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THE LONE GRAVE OF THE SHENANDOAH 
 
= FOR SALE EVERYWHERE. 
 
 BY 
 
 COL. BONN PIATT, 
 
 Author of " The Lone Grave of the Shenandoah," 1 " 1 etc. 
 Editor of " Belford s Magazine" etc., etc. 
 
 121110, clotli, gilt top, $1.50. 
 
 The Westminster Review^ which is the ablest of the great 
 Reviews of Europe, says of the above book, that it is the best- 
 written and most delightful work by an American that has 
 reached London in half a century. 
 
 BELFORD, CLARKE & CO,, Publishers, 
 
 Chicago, New York, and San Francisco. 
 
THE 
 
 LONE GRAVE OF THE SHENANDOAH 
 
 AND OTHER TALES 
 
 BY DOS ^ PI ATT 
 
 BELFORD, CLARKE & CO. 
 CHICAGO, NEW YORK. AND SAX FRANCISCO 
 
 1888 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1888, 
 BY BELFORD, CLARKE & COMPANY. 
 
DEDICATED 
 
 Go flD Wife. 
 
 THE BLOOM WAS ON THE ALDER AND THE TASSEL ON THE CORN. 
 
 T HEARD the bob-white whistle in the dewy breath of morn ; 
 
 The bloom was on the alder aud the tassel on the corn. 
 I stood with beating heart beside the babbling Mac o-chee, 
 To see my love come down the glen to keep her tryst with me. 
 
 I saw her pace, with quiet grace, the shaded path along, 
 And pause to pluck a flower, or hear the thrush s song. 
 Denied by her proud father as a suitor to be seen, 
 She came to me, with loving trust, my gracious little queen. 
 
 Above my station, Heaven knows, that gentle maiden shone, 
 For she was belle and wide beloved, and I a youth unknown, 
 The rich and great about her thronged, and sought on bended knee 
 For love this gracious princess gave with all her heart to me. 
 
 So, like a startled fawn, before my longing eyes she stood, 
 
 With all the freshness of a girl in flush of womanhood. 
 
 I trembled as I put my arm about her form divine, 
 
 And stammered as, in awkward speech, I begged her to be mine. 
 
 Tis sweet to hear the pattering rain that lulls a dim-lit dream ; 
 Tis sweet to hear the song of birds, and sweet the rippling stream ; 
 Tis sweet amid the mountain pines to hear the south winds sigh 
 More sweet than these and all besides was th loving, low reply. 
 
 The little hand I held in mine held all I had of life, 
 
 To mould its better destiny and soothe to sleep its strife. 
 
 Tis said that angels watch o er men, commissioned from above; 
 
 My angel walked with me on earth and gave to me her love. 
 
 Ah ! dearest wife, my heart is stirred, my eyes are dim with tears ; 
 I think upon the loving faith of all these bygone years : 
 For now we stand upon this spot, as in that dewy morn, 
 With the bloom upon the alder and the tassel on the corn. 
 
 M2372GO 
 
CONTESTS. 
 
 DEDICATION : TO MY WIFE. PAGE 
 
 THE BLOOM WAS ox THE ALDER AND THE TASSEL ON THE CORN 5 
 
 NOVEL I. 
 THE LONE GRAVE OF THE SHENANDOAH 7 
 
 NOVEL H. 
 PETER PEPPERTON S FOURTH o JULY TRIUMPH 22 
 
 NOVEL m. 
 LUNY LEN 34 
 
 NOVEL IV. 
 HANDLED GOODS 41 
 
 NOVEL V. 
 AUNT HETTY 51 
 
 NOVEL VI. 
 MR. BARDOLPH BOTTLES 66 
 
 NOVEL VTI. 
 
 ABOUT LOVE AND LAW . . 72 
 
vi CONTENTS. 
 
 NOVEL Vm. 
 OLD SHACK 
 
 NOVEL IX. 
 THE SALES-LADY OF THE CITY ...................................... 80 
 
 NOVEL X. 
 MONTEZUMA HAWKINS, REFORMER ... .............................. - 97 
 
 NOVEL XI. 
 THE WHARF-RAT 
 
 NOVEL XII. 
 THE FEMALE CLERK AT WASHINGTON ............................... 127 
 
 NOVEL XIII. 
 THE GREAT DYNAMITE SCARE ....................................... 138 
 
 NOVEL XIV. 
 A STORY ABOUT BEARS ............ ............................... 146 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 THE tales of love and labor collected in this little volume had 
 their origin in an attempt to respond to a long-felt want in the 
 pocketbook of their author. That they failed to fill that aching 
 void- -the vacuum which nature, human nature abhors was not 
 owing so much to a lack of excellence in the book itself as to 
 the law of supply and demand, which is about the only law vouch 
 safed our American author. Lacking any other law, especially one 
 granting an international copyright, theft augments the supply 
 and gluts the market of demand. Eminently respectable publish 
 ers respectable because rich and a pensive public have been 
 content, the one to enjoy and the other to fatten on stolen goods. 
 
 A number of earnest fanatics were hanged at Chicago for hold 
 ing that all property is theft, and resisting with bombs a police 
 with pistols that joined issue with them on this proposition. The 
 majesty of the law was maintained under the gallows, and the 
 axiom established that all property is held under a sacred right 
 sanctioned by God and sustained by common law and written 
 constitutions, save and except that form of human industry called 
 a book. A man may work his idea into a sewing machine, for 
 example, and the courts will punish by imprisonment any anarchist 
 or communist who dares appropriate the machine. But if he work 
 his idea into a book, it is a common possession, and may be appro 
 priated by any anarchist disguised as a publisher, and enjoyed by 
 the public without compensation. If a misguided son of man 
 approach the sewing-machine for the purpose of taking and carrying 
 off the same, the proprietor may use bombs in its defence, and pub 
 lic opinion, that is law, will approve of the defence. This, how 
 ever, does n t extend to the author of a book, and as such he must 
 submit patiently to the spoliation. 
 
 For nearly a century the authors of the United States have 
 been knocking in a feeble manner at the bronze doors of Congress 
 
viii PREFACE. 
 
 in search of a remedy for this wrong. From time to time the 
 doors have been opened, but the result is invariably defeat. This 
 comes mainly from the fact that Congress is a political body, with 
 no literary or scientific s de, and the authors are scientific or 
 literary, with no knowledge of or taste for politics. No Congress 
 man ever reads a book. He would not be a Congressman if he did. 
 No scientific or literary man studies or cares for politics. The 
 result is that the two august bodies ure strangers to each other ; 
 and the condition is not improved by an intr duction. A dis 
 tinguished Senator, the late President Lincoln s prominent rival for 
 a nominat on at Chica:o, gave our authors a name that clings to 
 them yet about Washington, as "them literary fellers ; " and the 
 book compilers are not slow to retaliate upon the Solons as "vile 
 politicians." 
 
 The writer of this sat for ten years in the reporters galleries of 
 Congress, and in that time learned to know the body of so-called 
 law makers, which a witty correspondent designated as " the dele 
 gated stupidity" of the United States. Whether this is correct or 
 not, the writer saw in the House the "cave of the winds, and in 
 the Senate a dead " fog bank. which had long since ceased to be 
 lifted by the thunders of a Webster or lit by the lightning of a 
 Calhoun 
 
 This observant reporter was taught that Congress never legis 
 lated designedly upon any subject other than that found in pro 
 viding \\ ays and means to carry on the Government. Left to itself, 
 the one constitutional duty was to meet, pass the appropriation 
 bills, and adjourn. 
 
 Lying back of the grave body, and not by any means concealed, 
 is a power that prompts legislation and passes laws. This third 
 house, and master of both houses, is the lobby. The lobby is to 
 Congress what a bar is to a court. It is composed of the accredited 
 agents of our legislative branch of the Government, and is a neces 
 sity. Since the war the General Government has entered the field 
 of private enterprise, and under pretext of encouraging capital and 
 protecting labor, seeks to insure a profit to certain moneyed inter 
 ests. As the Government has no means of its own to pay these 
 bounties, it gains its end in that direction by taxation. That is, the 
 
PREFACE. IX 
 
 tax is so adjusted that for every cent collected to sustain the 
 Government, three cents are assessed to pay the pet interests. We 
 rob Peter to recompense Paul, and as Peter represents a vast 
 majority of consumers, the process is extremely cheerful to all con 
 cerned. 
 
 This fetches to the capital vast crowds of people interested 
 in securing this bounty from the Government. Said General 
 Schenck, chairman of the Committee on Ways and Means, when 
 apologizing for his late appearance at a breakfast given him : " I 
 was routed out of bed by an anti-cow-kicker, an<\ chased in here 
 by grindstones, india-rubber goods, and hoop-skirtb." Every pos 
 sible interest and business is represented at Washington save 
 that of labor and agriculture. 
 
 Xow, all legislation is done by Congress through committees. A 
 member introduces a bill and it is referred to its appropriate com 
 mittee. The Lycurgus sees it disappear through a door into a 
 room where the committee sits twice a week from ten A.M. till 
 twelve noon. He may follow his bill to this secret and extremely 
 irritable body, l>ut he seldom does. He is too busy for that His 
 entire time from the rising of the sun to the setting thereof is 
 given to attending to the wants of his constituents. His mails 
 come loaded with letters demanding attention to everything on 
 earth but the purpose for which he was elected. If he neglects 
 these to study legislation, he is doomed. He will not be re-elected. 
 
 The parties thus interested in legislation must seek the accred 
 ited agents of Congress, called the lobby, to attend to their busi 
 ness. Those selected by Congress are made up mainly of fast men 
 and loose women. The same corps, selected for the same purpose, 
 about any legislative body of Europe is composed of learned and 
 respectable men. Our Congress will have none of that. " Xous 
 avons change tout cela. " And Congress has so far succeeded in 
 securing its agents of the lobby, that it is ruin co the character of 
 any reputable man to be seen in their midst. Efforts have been 
 made, from time to time, to purify this body, but ever in vain. 
 The representation represents, and the fountain never rises above 
 its head When Richard B. Irwin s;iid to the Pacific Mail Com 
 pany that if it would employ the accredited agent of Congress 
 
X PPEFACE. 
 
 called the lobby, and pay it a million of dollars, the sought-for 
 subsidy would be obtained and so it was Mr. Irwin was cruelly 
 abused; but no one paused to consider the condition of a Congress 
 that demonstrated the truth of his assertion. 
 
 As a member of the Authors League, the writer of this under 
 took to enlighten the book-makers as to the real condition at the 
 capital. He was treated with lofty contempt. The poets, novel 
 ists, scientific delvers, and other bookworms went up to the Capi 
 tol to plead the justice of their demand. 
 
 There is nothing that exasperates a member so much as to have 
 his time occupied by a consideration of the merits of a measure 
 unless the measure is political, and directly or indirectly affects his 
 return to office. The bearer of such meritorious measure not po 
 litical is a bore. The member shuts and double-locks his door. 
 If he sees his enemy on the street he incontinently dives down 
 a back alley. Getting his card upon the floor, he hides in the 
 cloak-room and blasphemes. The advocate of such meritorious 
 measure is a crank and a nuisance. 
 
 The lobby understands this and eschews the merit. He bases 
 his claim on its p litical aspect, which means immediate good to 
 the law-maker. 
 
 The maker of books cannot be taught any of this. He knows 
 all about it. His conceit is only equalled by his profound igno 
 rance, for he is college-bred and literary trained. He says truly 
 with Southey: 
 
 My days among the dead are passed, 
 
 Around me I behold, 
 Where er these casual eyes are cast, 
 
 The mighty minds of old. 
 
 The living alone are dead and unknown to him. The great 
 world goes roaring on around him, dimly heard and dimly seen 
 through the loophole of his book-lined vault, wherein rest his 
 mighty dead of a half -forgotten past. Books built on books are 
 of no good. Yet such is his work. The departed whose bones he 
 worships were men among men. He is like the artist who studies 
 great masters and sits a little fellow on a step-ladder, copying, in- 
 
PREFACE. xi 
 
 stead of facing nature, and getting his inspiration from whence the 
 masters won their immortality. 
 
 How little science and literature move and affect humanity one 
 may learn from a few facts. These facts teach us that all the 
 great discoveries and inventions that subvert the law of the ma 
 terial world to man s use were made mainly by ignorant men who 
 stumbled upon them. As for literature, it is the merest trifle. 
 Let us see We have a population of sixty odd millions in these 
 United States. Of these it is a liberal estimate to say that three 
 milli ms read books. Of the three millions the larger part read 
 love stories, mostly trash. Small wonder the politicians designate 
 authors as literary fellers " of small account. Yet, when one of 
 these puts himself between the covers of a book, and secures a sale 
 of a thousand copies, he swells in his own estimation to an object 
 of much public interest, and designs a monument. 
 
 Their latest effort before Congress was simply pitiable. They 
 appeared at Washington and gave public readings, through which 
 to raise funds, not to employ the lobby or subsidize the press, 
 but to pay their board-bills. But for James Whitcomb Eiley and 
 Mark Twain, with their grotesque humor, the shows would have 
 been dismal failures. The wives and daughters of a few mill 
 ionaire Senators bought tickets, and the wealthy people of Wash 
 ington yawned dismally in their seats until Whitcomb Riley, a man 
 of genius, who got his inspiration from living men while painting 
 signs for country stores, came to the rescue. 
 
 In the committee-room the poor fellows met their masters, the 
 publishers who have grown fat on theft, and then encountered 
 their terrible foe, the sixty thousand printers of the Typographi 
 cal Union. Our authors dropped into a mild condition that lost 
 all the indignation against unquestionable iniquity. A compromise 
 was agreed on that, like all compromises with sin. strengthens the 
 evil. Better half a loaf than no bread, said one, with an eager 
 concurrence on the part of all. Poor fellows ! There was not one 
 of them, save Mark Twain, who was not dependent on these same 
 thriving publishers for their daily crust. They did not get their 
 half loaf. They asked for bread and got a stone. The bill pro 
 vides that the foreign author may have a right to his property 
 
*Ai PREFACE. 
 
 provided the American pirate shall consent to the enjoyment. 
 That is, it is stipulated that if within a given time the foreign au 
 thor shall find favor with an American publisher to reproduce his 
 hook, his right shall be recognized ; but failing in this he can be 
 plundered as of old. In other words, the right is made dependent 
 on the will of the thieves, and they can make such terms as they 
 please ; or in other words, a legalized fraud. 
 
 What poor stuff is this! And yet these kings of thought marched 
 out as if they had accomplished a great victory. 
 
 Strange to say, that through all this contention, nearly a cen 
 tury old, there exists all the right of property for which King 
 Higginson and King Ho wells and other potentates of the pen have 
 so earnestly striven. Some twelve years since Mr. Lewis Abrams, of 
 Washington, a thoughtful man and a hard student, came to the 
 front with a legal opinion on the subject that is conclusive as to 
 the right of the foreign author to his property in the United 
 States. He called attention to the fact that a book had a commer 
 cial side to it other than its scientific or literary value. This, 
 under the common law of trade, since recognized by t eaties, se 
 cures a property right in any manufactured article, be it a book or 
 book-muslin, that can be sold. To protect this a trade mark is 
 recognized, and all the civilized world has resolved that the trade 
 mark shall be held sacred. When, therefore, an author files the 
 title-page of his forthcoming woik with the Librarian of Con 
 gress, he gets in return a copyright that is in fact a trade-mark. 
 Under our treaties, the highest law of the land, this trade-mark is 
 as good for a book as it is for balbriggan hose or a peculiar make of 
 Scotch tweed. AVhat more do you want, oh Higginson, How- 
 ells, and other " kings of thought" 
 
 " Who wage contention with their time s decay, 
 And of the past are all that will not pass away " ? 
 
 "A race of shopkeepers makes a nation of thieves/ said the 
 gr at Napoleon; but even a nation of thieves respect the trade 
 mark. 
 
 Poisrisr PIATT, 
 
 MAOO-CHEE, OHIO, March 29, 1888, 
 
THE LONE GRAVE OF THE SHENANDOAH, 
 
 NOVEL I. 
 
 THE old stone tavern known through generations as the Indian 
 Queen, that stands on a turn of the road down the mountains from 
 Sherryville to M , of the Shenandoah Valley, enjoys a land 
 scape a castle might be proud of. That this is the Indian Queen 
 runs on tradition and general consent, for the old-fashioned sign 
 board that creaks in front lost long since the work of art that pict 
 ured forth the name. Nothing remained on the one side but a 
 dim crown of feathers, nearly obliterated, and two staring eyes on 
 the other, that, put together by the curious observer, failed to 
 make up that imaginary creature known to tradition and dime 
 novels as Her Majesty Queen Pocahontas. 
 
 Virginia s little romance of that ilk is about as dim as the sign 
 board. Pocahontas did live and was the daughter of a chief. 
 But all else is the fringe-work of fancy, that, like the sign, would 
 have long since faded out but for a useful purpose the romance 
 serves, and that is, the manner in which our loved ancestors had of 
 accounting for well, say brunettes that appeared from time to 
 time among the noble Virginians. 
 
 To return, however, to my story : The view from the rude 
 porch of the inn is exceedingly beautiful, for it contains one of the 
 loveliest portions of that lovely valley. The green meadows and 
 rich fields, with groves and gleams of water, dotted by white 
 farm-houses half hid in orchards, were all framed in by moun 
 tains, the summits of which seemed to melt into the blue of heaven, 
 leaving the eye in doubt as to where the rounded rocky or wooded 
 tops ended and the clouds began. The sulphury smoke of battle 
 had obscured these fields, and the mountains had echoed back the 
 mouthing cannon of combatants, but at the time our little romance 
 
;{ I l.T&K^OME GRAVE OF THE SHENAXDVAH. 
 
 opens no harm had been done to the valley itself. Armies had 
 marched, fought, and retreated generally, up to that time, the 
 dear old flag had hurried ingloriously out of the row but no great 
 injury had come to the work of the farmer or the beauty of 
 nature. 
 
 The summer sun was sinking in the hazy west, with distant 
 rumblings of artillery telling of a far-off combat, as a girl, some 
 twenty years of age, sat in a rocking-chair, on the wooden porch of 
 the tavern, rocking softly to and fro, and gazing dreamily upon the 
 view before her. Her appearance was such as to attract attention. 
 In dress, bearing, and expression there was a refinement that in 
 dicated one city bred, rather than of rural local origin. She was 
 exceedingly attractive, with a claim to beauty that came under the 
 head of handsome rather that pretty. Her face, at rest, indicated 
 more force of character than that which ordinarily falls to the 
 sweeter sex. The perfect oval ended in a pronounced chin, while 
 the slight aquiline line of her nose made that chin aggressive. But 
 for the full red lips of the perfect mouth, and large dreamy eyes, 
 the pale face would have been too severe to excite other that a feel 
 ing of admiration. 
 
 The expression depicted from time to time, as the feelings 
 changed, had a wider range than is usual to such a cast of coun 
 tenance. As her eyes wandered over the beautiful view her face 
 was one to admire. When a little three-year-old daughter of the 
 stone tavern toddled to her and rested its little head upon her 
 knee, the long silken fringes of her tender eyes fell upon it as her 
 slender hands stroked its curly locks and her face was one to 
 love. Afterward, when she gazed at the brigade of Union soldiers 
 pitching their tents on the meadows below, scorn and hate gave 
 her a face to fear. 
 
 A movement below made In r start, as if to leave her chair. 
 Then, after half rising, she settled back and began again the 
 monotonous rocking. A cavalcade of officers was riding up the 
 road, as if coming to the Indian Queen. 
 
 At the head of this little escort rode a stout, middle-aged 
 gentleman, in the uniform of a Brigaditr General of the Northern 
 Army. Mounted on a superb horse, he sat with the ease of an ex- 
 
THE LONE GRAVE OF THE SHENANDOAH. 
 
 perienced rider, his high rounded shoulders holding a grim, res 
 olute head, that under other than a military hat would have been 
 repulsive in its severity. There was a face not to be trifled with, 
 as the historic annals of war and diplomacy have put to record. 
 
 Halting in front of the tavern, the officers dismounted, and as 
 the orderlies led the horses to the stable, they ascended the steps, 
 and gaining the porch instinctively lifted their hats to the girl be 
 fore them. She barely recognized the salutation, then continued 
 her rocking, as if their politeness and presence were alike in 
 different to her. 
 
 A grim change in the General s face left one in doubt whether 
 he was suffering from a toothache or indulging in a smile. 
 
 On the landlord making his appearance the chief gave his or 
 ders. They were for supper for himself and staff, one room for 
 the night, and quarters for a corporal s guard. While the supper 
 was being prepared the General sat in the split-bottomed arm-chair, 
 near our heroine, while the members of his staff, weary of a long 
 day s ride, stretched them -elves upon the sod under the trees. 
 
 "How many a vanished hour and day 
 Have sunlight o er me shed " 
 
 since last I parted from that gallant band of good fellows a loved 
 General held together during the four years of a terrible conflict. 
 I can see them now. I see the tall, slender, volatile Chestnutt, gay 
 as a lark, brave as a lion. Esterhaze, quiet, grave, yet ever alert 
 to duty. Comb, slender and awkward, but possessed of the keenest 
 sense of humor, as ready to jest under fire as in the camp. Then 
 came old Grenville. called old because he was so solemn. It would 
 take a surgical instrument to get a joke in his head, and then an 
 other to get it out. And last, but not least, for he is the hero of 
 my little romance, Bob Ellersly, young, handsome, and liable to 
 love and debt. 
 
 Two of these met violnt deaths, and the rest are scattered 
 world-wide apart. I send them greeting. 
 
 " I say, Bob/ cried Chestnutt to the aide, as he rested his 
 head on his elbows and kicked his toes into the grass, " rather 
 handsome girl that up there. 
 
10 THE LONE GRAVE OF THE SHENANDOAH. 
 
 "The old man seems to have discovered that," Bob responded. 
 See him doing the sweet on her, will you ? " 
 
 "Well, he is," Comb chipped in, " but he isn t making much 
 headway, I gather, from the expression on her lovely countenance. " 
 
 The General was doing the suave polite, for which he was fa 
 mous, and getting little in return but crisp monosyllables. 
 
 It does not require much time to prepare a meal in Virginia. 
 Ham and eggs, with hot biscuits, make the substantial, while 
 sticky, indigestible sueets, called preserves, form the entrees. The 
 General and staff were soon called to table, and ate with the hearty 
 relish of hungry men. After the supper had been disposed of the 
 General called his aide, Bob Ellersly, to one side and said : 
 
 "I have a rather pleasant duty for you, Bob." 
 
 "All right, General, the pleasanter the better." 
 
 "It is one, Lieutenant," continued the commander, " of ex 
 treme delicacy, and I trust to your tact to carry it to a successful 
 issue. Now, don t let any of your boyish impulses make you blun 
 der. You see that young lady on the porch ? " 
 
 "I believe I noticed her." 
 
 "Well, for the next ten da} T s, or until further orders, you 
 must not permit her to get out of your sight. You must do this 
 delicately, for she is the niece of the most prominent and im 
 portant loyalist of Baltimore. It will not do to offend her, for the 
 whole affair may be a mistake after all." 
 
 "What is the affair, General?" 
 
 " Simply this : the Secretary of War writes me that all the pa 
 pers concerning the coming campaign in Virginia were stolen from 
 the department and traced to Clara Willis, of Baltimore Miss 
 Clara has since disappeared, but there is every reason to believe 
 that she is somewhere in the Shenandoah Valley trying to com 
 municate with the enemy. This is the girl, Bob, I am satisfied. 
 I worried enough out of the landlord to convince me I am right 
 Put a guard about the house so no one can enter or leave without 
 your permission, and keep your eye on her." 
 
 "But, General, this is difficult. If I am not to make her a 
 prisoner, how am I to act ? " 
 
 " Make love to her, Bob," said his commander, with a twinkle 
 
THE LONE GRAVE OF THE SHENANDOAH. 11 
 
 in his eye. " Sacrifice yourself on the altar of your country. She 
 is a woman, and a devilish pretty one, and, therefore, may be 
 wooed ; she is a woman and, therefore, may be won." So saying 
 the Brigadier ordered horses, and Bob heard them rattling off in 
 the moonlight, leaving him to execute his diplomatic mission. 
 
 Calling Corporal Bang, Bob directed him to place a guard in 
 front of the house, and another in the rear, with orders to permit 
 no one to enter or leave, man, woman, or child, without his (the 
 Lieutenant s) orders. 
 
 "Do you know, Corporal, what has become of the young lady 
 who was seated on the porch before supper ? " 
 
 "She skooted up-stairs, Lieutenant, and every swish of her pet 
 ticoats had a secesh cuss in it. She lijt up the corner room, I cal 
 culate." 
 
 "Very well, you have your orders." 
 
 "All right, Lieutenant." 
 
 Bob Ellersly seated himself in the vacated arm-chair and 
 smoked his briar-wood pipe in the moonlight, revolving over and 
 over in his mind the strange duty imposed upon him. He was in 
 terested, and yet did not like the business. Young, ardent, and 
 ambitious, he thought of his comrades riding off to glory, while 
 he remained behind to circumvent a woman . Bouncing from his 
 chair, he walked the rough boards of the old porch impatiently. 
 Suddenly he descended the steps and stood under the trees, gazing 
 up at that corner of the room occupied by the enemy. Country 
 taverns are not graced with curtains, but something of the sort 
 had been improvised for this apartment, and he could only see a 
 shadow of the inmate, passing and repassing, as if she, too, was 
 restless and impatient. 
 
 As he stood leaning against a tree in the moonlight he presented 
 as handsome a figure as one would care to see. The broad shoul 
 ders, swung over slender hips, held over them a head in which 
 youth and manhood contended for the mastery. His face was boy 
 ish vs hen at rest, but when animated he seemed to take on years 
 in the way of expression which, added to his soldierly bearing, im 
 pressed his comrades as one capable of any duty. Left an orphan 
 at an early age, with a small property, on which he had been edu- 
 
12 THE [.ONE GRAVE OF THE SHENANDOAH. 
 
 cated, he stood alone in the world. He had not, he said, a relation 
 that he knew of on earth. " So much the better/ grunted cyni 
 cal Comb, "if you have poor relations you fear they will want to 
 borrow your money, or get hung ; if you have rich ones they are 
 sure to get into Congress, or the penitentiary, and worry the life 
 out of you. Relations are nuisances." 
 
 The next morning Ellersly informed Bang in the presence of 
 the landlord that they had been left to look after the forwarding of 
 important despatches from the front, and with an orderly rode to 
 Murrayville. He was scarcely out of sight before an ancient gig, that 
 wabbled in the wheels and groaned in the body, as if afflicted with 
 combined old age and sciatica, was drawn in front by an animated 
 hat-rack for a horse. The negro driver stopped at the foot of the 
 steps, and our heroine, fully prepared for a jaunt, seated herself by 
 the colored boy. When the horse was turned toward the road the 
 private on guard brought his musket down before the horse s nose 
 and arrested the concern. 
 
 "What s the meaning of this?" demanded the girl. 
 
 "Can t go, that s all." 
 
 Call your corporal ; I want to know the meaning of this out 
 rage." 
 
 Corporal Bang stepped to the front. 
 
 "What is the reason for this detention?" she continued. 
 
 "Them as gives orders has reasons; them as gets orders has 
 bayonets," sententiously responded Bang. 
 
 There was no help for it. With flushed cheeks and a firm, 
 set mouth, the girl descended from the vehicle and entered the 
 house. Every step was a protest. The ancient gig was restored 
 to its maison de sante and the hat-rack of a horse to its stall. At 
 noon Ellersly returned, and learned of the attempted escape. 
 After dinner, while smoking his pipe, the suspected girl approached 
 him. 
 
 " I attempted to drive out this morning, sir," she said indig 
 nantly, " and was arrested by your men. Am I to understand 
 that I am a prisoner ? " 
 
 " I am very sorry, madam," answered the aide, avoiding the 
 question, "very sorry so rude a thing was done." 
 
THE LONE GRAVE OF THE SHEXANDOAH. 13 
 
 " Don t apologize, sir. We know your miserable Government 
 makes war on women. You are only a hireling executing its 
 brutal orders. Again I ask you, am I a prisoner?" 
 
 " It is really painful to know that you entertain such an idea," 
 patiently continued the officer. " These men execute orders so 
 literally that mistakes like this will occur." 
 
 " I am not a prisoner, then ? " 
 
 "You are at liberty, I assure you, to go where and when you 
 please. To prove to you, however, how unjust you are to us I will 
 add that you shall go as you will and owing to the unsettled and 
 dangerous condition the country is in, I will furnish you an escort 
 of armed men to see that you go in safety. " 
 
 "Mr. Lieutenant, " she said with scorn, "when I need your 
 services, I will ask them." 
 
 "Do so, madam, and you will find me ready to serve you." 
 And so they parted. 
 
 " An unpleasant beginning for a love affair," murmured Bob, 
 resuming his pipe. 
 
 For the next twenty-four hours the Lieutenant saw little of his 
 suspect, and the little he did see was not agreeable. Meeting her 
 by accident on the stairs she not only gave way, but gathered 
 her skirts about her, as if she feared contamination from the 
 touch. 
 
 The day after, however, her mood changed. She received him 
 with a bewitching smile, holding out her little hand, saying : 
 
 " Mr. " and she paused. 
 
 "Ellersly," he added, lifting his cap. 
 
 " Mr. Ellersly, I wish to apologize for my rude talk. I forgot 
 that you were an officer on duty, and what is more, I forgot that 
 I was a lady. Pardon me." 
 
 "I have no pardon to grant, madam." said Bob. gallantly. 
 " Reproof is sweeter from some than commendation from others. 
 Now, what can I do for you ? * 
 
 "We will breakfast together," she said, "and then I will tell 
 you." 
 
 At breakfast she poured out his muddy coffee of beans and 
 chiccory. and was so very amiable that Bob, young as he was, could 
 
14 THE LOXE GRAVE OF THE SHENANDOAH. 
 
 not help thinking she was too confoundedly sweet, and he became, 
 in consequence, the more alert and suspicious. 
 
 " Now I ll tell you, Lieutenant/ she said on the porch, "I am 
 ashamed to confess it, but I have some poor relations in these 
 mountains almost starved by the war." 
 
 " That is a lie/ thought Bob, but he s.dd nothing only smiled 
 sweetly. 
 
 "I wish to communicate with and help them," she continued, 
 " and if you will furnish me with an escort I will make the 
 attempt." 
 
 An ambush, thought Bob ; but he smiled all the more and 
 added : 
 
 "Why, of course I will. I ll do better I will be your escort 
 myself. Shall we go immediately ? " 
 
 " Oh, no, there is no need of such haste ; to-morrow will do," 
 and they dropped into conversation as natural as if they knew each 
 other for years. Bob was shrewd, but inexperienced. He did not 
 observe the dangerous thread of the t;ilk. While dexterously 
 avoiding all reference to herself she kept on that most fascinating 
 subject to all men, when guided by a pretty woman himself. It 
 was Othello and Desdemona over again. Only Desdemona led the 
 conversation. Ah, me, if the beguiling sex only knew the full 
 power in their little ears, aided by deep, earnest eyes, none of us 
 would be safe. Bob talked well, at times eloquently, with a golden 
 thread of humor running through all, and he who set out to de 
 ceive through love-making went to his bed deep in love with the 
 fair charmer. 
 
 The day after the expedition was attempted. Alas ! it proved 
 a miserable failure. The old horse pulled them slowly to the sum 
 mit of the mountain, and then descending to the valley beyond 
 stumbled at every step, and at last fell down, breaking the shaft, 
 and throwing the fair emissary on his phrenological rump. 
 
 When a horse falls he takes a philosophical view of the situa 
 tion and lies still. Old Smooth Tooth lay stretched upon the 
 road, whith his shoeless hoofs full extended and his eyes half 
 closed, as if to say, " This is the end ; farewell, vain world j leave 
 me to the buzzards," 
 
THE LONE GRAVE OF THE SHENANDOAH. 15 
 
 Ellersly lifted his fair companion from the embrace of the 
 moist anatomy. She got up laughing merrily over the mishap, 
 and, leaving the wreck to the man, the two walked back. 
 
 " This is too bad/ said Bob. " The poor relations will never 
 get relief at this rate. Look here, Miss Clara "he had her name 
 " can you ride ? " 
 
 " Like an Arab/ she responded. 
 
 "Good ! he exclaimed. "Xow, if I can find a saddle, you 
 shall have my horse Chancellor. He is splendid. I will ride one 
 of the orderly s horses, and so we will penetrate every recess of the 
 mountains/ 
 
 She was delighted with the arrangement, and an old-fashioned 
 single-horned side-saddle, hard as the rock of ages, was fished out 
 from the stables. Bob worked long and laboriously in fashioning 
 one of his best blankets to the old affair, to make it more 
 presentable as well as easier, and the rides began. 
 
 Chancellor, when first mounted, snorted, reared, and lunged, 
 as if indignant, but the fair girl kept her seat composedly until the 
 steed quieted down, and then patting his arched neck put herself 
 on friendly terms with the noble animal. 
 
 Those rides were long and frequent. Both enjoyed them. She 
 was sweetly confidential in her young escort s life and affairs, and 
 every hour the delicious chain of love bound the poor boy nearer 
 and firmer to his adoration. Small wonder. The y^ung girl was 
 simply superb on horseback. The close-fitting riding dress seemed 
 part of her supple, graceful, engaging form, while the exercise and 
 excitement brought a delicate, shell-tinted rosiness to her cheeks, 
 that seemed the one thing necessary to make her pale face perfect. 
 Bob longed to avow his love, but youth is timid when the precious 
 treasure may be jeopardized by the avowa . He was blinded by 
 his passion, and did not see the game so openly played by the little 
 gambler. She was a true daughter of the South, and her heart 
 was with her poor brothers marching shoeless, with scant ra ment, 
 poorly armed, sleeping without shelter, and dying by thousands with 
 desperate bravery for their cause. To have that in her possession 
 that was, as she believed, of vital importance to them, made her 
 desperate. For such a cause she would play the Judith, and had 
 
16 THE LONE GRAVE OF THE SHENANDOAB. 
 
 Bob avowed his love, she was resolved to accept, let the conse 
 quences have been what they might to the poor lad. 
 
 Oh ! the golden glory of those sunny days. They took on a rose 
 ate hue, that made the blue summits of the mountains a deeper 
 blue, as if to bound that Eden that lies about each life in the gold 
 en glow of youth, when love touches the sweet, tender existence, 
 and the birds sing, and the flowers bloom with voices and odors 
 that penetrate the very soul, never again to pass away. The 
 scene fades, the birds die, and the flowers perish, oft in the hard 
 realities of life the blue mountains no longer frame in the fairy 
 paradise, but all the same we cling to it through existence, as our 
 first parents clung to the Garden to which they never could return. 
 
 Shakespeare tells us the course of true love never does run 
 smooth. No, indeed ; life s ways are not fitted for the sweet stream. 
 For a little while it murmurs along green meadows, and then, anon, 
 it falls among rocks and rough ways, and oftentimes is dashed over 
 precipices to be dissipated in thin mist, over which arches the rain 
 bow, not, alas ! of hope, but memory. 
 
 There were some little tricks the lovely girl indulged in that 
 exasperated her lover, who, although blinded by his passion, had 
 not lost sight of his duty. One of these was to stop at some 
 mountain hut, and persist in dismounting and entering the hovel. 
 Bob dismounted also, and would help her to the ground and ac 
 company her to the interior. He kept his eyes and ears alert, 
 and believed that he baffled any designs in this direction. 
 
 Another fancy indulged in was to banter the Lieutenant to a 
 race and dart off on Chancellor, at the best of his running pace, 
 and Bob, on his Government horse, would follow lumbering after, 
 scarce keeping her in sight, until it suited the girl to check up. 
 Bob remonstrated in vain, and all he could do was to direct the 
 orderly to keep a sharp lookout on either side of the road for any 
 thing the girl might drop. 
 
 One day Corporal Bang, who happened to be the escort, handed 
 the Lieutenant a letter, tied to a stone, that he had picked up 
 from a gully after one of those races. 
 
 " Got a reminder through my chappo, Lieutenant, when I 
 picked that up/ and he showed u hole in his hut. 
 
THE LONE GRAVE OF THE SHENANDOAH. IT 
 
 Ellersly looked longingly at the missive. It was directed to a 
 well-known guerilla of the mountains. Bob would have given a 
 good deal to know its contents. But he quietly handed it, without 
 a word, to the girl. Her face flushed, and somewhat embarrassed 
 she hurried to her room. In a few minutes, however, she returned, 
 letter in hand, with her cheeks yet holding the flush of her ex 
 citement. 
 
 "Lieutenant Ellersly," she asked, in an even, steady tone, 
 that was forced, " why did you not open this letter ? " 
 
 " Open your letter?" he asked in turn. 
 
 " Yes, open my letter. You are not doing your duty to your 
 Government." 
 
 " Miss Clara," said the boy proudly, " I tendered my life to 
 my country. I did not include in that my honor. When I am 
 sunk so low as to steal, I cease to be worthy of my commission." 
 
 Thegi;! tore open the letter. " Then ! " she cried, " learn 
 who I am, and what I am trying to do." 
 
 Ho tjok the letter and deliberately tore it into fragments, 
 throwing the bits to the wind from the porch. " Miss Clara," he 
 exclaimed excitedly, " I know all I want to know of you. You 
 are doing your duty, as you see it, like a brave hearted woman, 
 for your side ; leave me to do mine, as a gentleman, for mine." 
 
 She looked at him earnestly, half in surprise and half in ten 
 derness, and said in an undertone, as if speaking to herself, " My 
 task grows harder than I thought for." Then she added, offering 
 her hand, " Let us be as kind to each other as we can." 
 
 The day after this strange interview she insisted upon their 
 daily ride, although the morn opened with a thunder-storm, arid the 
 rain came down at intervals in torrents. Ellersly remonstrated, 
 but she laughed, saying, " We are soldiers, you know, and must 
 not be cowed by a little rain." 
 
 They started, followed by Corporal Bang, and after an hour s 
 riding gained the summit of the mountain, along which the road 
 ran for a mile or more comparatively level, and then she cried : 
 "Now for my last race," and started on the run. Bob followed 
 as well as he could, and while lumbering along, the girl rapidly 
 gaining upon him. he remembered that at the end of a mile the 
 
18 THE LONE GRAVE OF THE SHENANDOAH. 
 
 road sloped down gradually to the river, and he also remembered 
 a gully, along which ran a path dangerous for a horse, but that 
 cut off half the distance to the point where the main road touched 
 the stream. Instinctively he plunged down the deep declivity. 
 Fortunately his horse, though slow, was sure-footed, and in a few 
 minutes he gained the bank. He gained this just in time to see 
 his fair fugitive enter a light boat and push into the stream. He 
 was below the point she debarked, and saw before she could get 
 hold of the oars that the boat, caught in the swift stream, was float 
 ing down to where a large tree, nearly level with the water, leaned 
 over the stream. She would pass under this, and running out he 
 swung down, catching a limb with his knee, and caught the skiff 
 with his right hand. At that instant the sharp crack of a rifle 
 rung out from the opposite shore, and Bob fell wounded into the 
 boat. 
 
 His weight nearly upset the frail craft, but it righted, whirled 
 around, and the next instant the girl pulled it to the shore. Leaping 
 to the bank she beached the boat half its length, and then reaching 
 to him said : 
 
 " Are you much hurt ? " 
 
 " I believe so/ he answered, as, half crawling, he worked his 
 way out and fell upon the ground. A second shot from the same 
 quarter struck the ground within an inch of his body. 
 
 " The cowardly miscreant," she said, throwing herself upon him. 
 " If he kills you, he must kill me." 
 
 Poor Bob gave a grateful look and a weak smile in return for 
 this act of devotion. At that instant the clatter of a horse s hoofs 
 were heard upon the pike. Corporal Bang appeared. Taking in 
 the situation at a glance, he dismounted, pushed the girl one 
 side, and picking up Ellersly as he would a child, carried him 
 round the bend of the road, that made a shelter from further shots. 
 Placing the Lieutenant timidly upon the grass he asked : 
 
 "Are you hit bad, Lieutenant ? " 
 
 " Bad enough, Corporal, he gasped, and then added, "water." 
 
 Clara started hurriedly to the river. As she appoached the 
 brink she took the beautiful little leather sack Bob had so often 
 eyed suspiciously from her belt, opened it, drew out a package of 
 
THE LONE GRAVE OF THE SHENANDOAH. 19 
 
 papers, threw them into the stream, and then, stooping, filled the 
 sack with water. When she returned Bang was cutting the blouse 
 from the boy s shoulder, exhibiting a wound not larger than a 
 pea, from which the blood spurted like a fountain. At the sight 
 the girl nearly fainted, but rallying, administered the draught to 
 his eager lips. 
 
 Again the girl hurried away. Throwing off her riding-dress 
 she took her linen underskirt, tore it into strips, and, without 
 waiting to put on her dress, handed them to Bang, and then as 
 sisted him in binding up the wound. She presented a strange 
 sight to the two men in her short skirt, for the collar and linen 
 cover were displaced, and the white column of neck and snowy 
 precipice of shoulder were exposed. She did not seem to be aware 
 of her exposure, and started, blushing crimson, when Bang said : 
 
 "Now, Miss, git on your toggery and sit here while I go for an 
 ambulance. Give him a sip of this times along/ he continued, 
 handing her his canteen that seemed full of commissary whiskey. 
 Catching Chancellor, as the best horse of the three, he mounted, 
 without waiting to change saddles, and rode off at a gallop. 
 
 The girl, once more in her riding-habit, seated herself, and 
 putting her arms about the wounded man drew his head upon her 
 shoulder, like a little mother, all care and tenderness. The storm 
 had passed, the sun came out above the mountains, warm and 
 bright, and the mocking-bird, in the cedars near, poured out its 
 flood of joyous melody. The poor boy s passion found utterance 
 at last, and in words made eloquent by gasps and pauses, he told 
 his love. She listened in silence, responding only in tighter grasps 
 and sobs she could not repress. 
 
 Her heart, in a strange agony of grief, was communing with it 
 self. She found in this sad event a revelation and a revolution in 
 one. How different was this declaration from the ones he had 
 courted and intended playing upon. And up to the new-found 
 love in her heart came the cry, " You have murdered him." 
 
 A long silence followed, and Bob, feeling the hot tears falling 
 on his brow, tried to smother down the groans the fierce pain 
 wrung from him, and looked up with an expression of loving 
 tenderness no words could express. She saw his increased pale- 
 
20 THE LONE GRAVE OF THE SHENANDOAH. 
 
 ness, heard his shortened breathings, and clasping him to her, she 
 said : 
 
 " Oh ! Mr. Ellersly oh ! Bob, don t die. It is killing me." 
 
 Vain appeal ! Death s higher claim was closing in upon his 
 heart. He gave one more look, shut his eyes, a shudder quivered 
 through his frame, then all was still. 
 
 The sun glimmered brightly on the wet laurel leaves, the 
 mocking-bird sang in the cedar near, and the great world rolled on 
 in endless life, as it ever does, regardless of the comedies and 
 tragedies we mortals enact. 
 
 The driver and escort of the ambulance, hurrying down the 
 road, heard as they turned the bend only the low wail of a broken 
 hearted woman. For once a funeral procession had only its real 
 mourners, for Bang, as brave a man as ever stood unmoved under 
 fire, wept as a child. 
 
 Twenty years after, business called me to this part of the Shen- 
 andoah Valley, and I not only breakfasted at the old stone inn, but 
 I visited the rude burying-ground to look on Bob Ellersly s last 
 resting-place. As I entered I saw saw a carriage at the old gateway 
 with a colored driver in livery, and inside I met a slender gray- 
 haired woman coming from the graves. I caught only a glimpse of 
 a pale, hollow-cheeked mourner, as she passed me. 
 
 I found the sexton busy digging a grave for a new occupant, 
 and asking him to show me that of the Union officer he clambered 
 out and led the way. To my surprise I was shown a handsome 
 monument of marble, consisting of a pedestal and broken column. 
 I was the more amazed to find it garnished with rare flowers, and 
 inscribed on the base I read : 
 
 SACKED TO THE MEMORY 
 
 OF ROBERT ELLERSLY, IT. S. A., WHO FELL 
 
 FIGHTING FOR His FLAG AND COUNTRY 
 
 HTH OF AUGUST, 1862. 
 
 " Why, who erected this monument ? " I asked. 
 
 " Thar s whar you git me/ responded the sexton," for I don t 
 know. It come up from Baltimore ready made and we was ordered 
 to put it up. That s all." 
 
THE LONE GRAVE OF THE SHENANDOAH. 21 
 
 " Well, who strewed these flowers ? " 
 
 " Same as afore don t know. Every Decoration Day, as they 
 calls ife, that female critter turns up, strews, an cries, an then 
 vamooses. An I must say, cries as much now as at fust." 
 
 For fear my readers will think me guilty of a wild exaggeration, 
 let me call their attention to the fact that a woman will carry a 
 dead lov^r in her heart for twenty years, when she is sure to quarrel 
 with a live one within six months. 
 
PETER PEPPERTONJS FOURTH JULY TRIUMPH. 
 
 NOVEL II. 
 
 THE Fourth o July is a day set apart by the citizens of this 
 blessed country on which to glorify themselves and mutilate their 
 offspring. While the parents exalt their horn, in more senses 
 than one, and declare, one unto the other, with much vociferation, 
 that we are the bravest, smartest, and highest- toned people on the 
 face of the earth, with the best government under the sun, their 
 male offspring of tender age, armed with Chinese crackers, toy 
 cannon and pistols, make the day hideous, and in their patriotic 
 excitement burn out their dear eyes, blow off their sweet noses, 
 and in many instances climb the golden stair in a very hasty and 
 unseemly manner. 
 
 Were these accidents confined to the little actors, we might de 
 plore their mutilations and early deaths, but we would be comforted 
 with the thought that the tender patriots had themselves to blame, 
 if any blame attaches to the patriotic custom. But, unfortunately, 
 many consequences occur beyond the range of youthful exuberance. 
 Frightened horses dash off to utter destruction with patriarchs on 
 wheels. Women, in holiday attire, have found themselves in flames 
 as well and no fire escape available, while cities have been burned 
 and millions of property destroyed, all for the gratification, in a 
 barbarous way, of young America. 
 
 Any attempt at a mitigation of the nuisance is met with oppo 
 sition from the paren s themselves, who claim that it is well to 
 have patriotism developed in the children. But why should it 
 take suclra wild form as Chinese crackers and horse-pistols ? Why 
 not set the day apart as one devoted to a general breaking of win 
 dow-panes? Let it be promulgated, as the law, that on the great 
 Fourth every kid in the land, to illustrate his noisy patriotism, 
 shall smash with pebbles all the windows in sight. This would be 
 
PETER PEPPERTOX S FOURTH C JULY TRIUMPH. 23 
 
 less dangerous and offensive than the powder business, and quite 
 as sensible. 
 
 I never could comprehend why, in this patriotic demonstration, 
 we should pattern after the Chinese and have it go off in loud, 
 disagreeable noise and foul odors. Among savage nations it is 
 common to become a nuisance while rejoicing, but civilized races 
 take their joy and exhibit their rejoicing in a civilized way. Pro 
 cessions with banners and sweet music, festivals, in which wives 
 and children take part, occupy the day, while at night artistic dis 
 plays of fireworks please the multitude. The child that, on such 
 occasions, should bang off a pistol or rack the nerves with that 
 barbarous combination of red paper and powder, called a Chinese 
 cracker, would be seized and thrashed on sight. The little fiend 
 would find it unpleasant for days after to hinge on its centre, so as 
 to come to a sitting position. 
 
 Every Fourth o July gives me a realizing appreciation of 
 Lamb s humor, to be found in the question he propounded for a 
 debating society, to wit : " Was Herod as bad a character as history 
 represents?" I turn then to Hood s letter from the bachelor 
 brother, who, in view of the prophesied earthquake, was written 
 to by his sister in the country, proposing to put her children under 
 his care at London. The poor man answered : " Dear sister, send 
 up the earthquake, and keep the children. 
 
 There is but one celebration of the Fourth I treasure in memory, 
 and that because of the ludicrous incidents that survive the recol 
 lection of the noise. 
 
 I was a law student under my illustrious father, who had re 
 tired from the profession he adorned to a quiet farm -life in the 
 valley of the Mac-o-chee. My brother student was Tom Gallagher, 
 and together we delved in those beastly commentaries known to the 
 world as Blackstone. As all science is based on terms and a supposed 
 reason for them, Blackstone is invaluable to the dull fellows, who 
 accept his absurd definitions without being able to detect their ab 
 surdity, and take sound for sense. 
 
 At the time I write of law was regarded as a science and treated 
 as such. The bar was composed of men who came to the practice 
 from honest toil, who split rails and ploughed the ground for means 
 
24 PETER PEPPERTOWS FOURTH <7 JULY TRIUMPH. 
 
 on which to secure enough education to act as schoolmasters, and 
 who then taught in the winter so as to be able to study for tluir 
 profession in the summer. Hard-handed, knotty-headed fellows, 
 they made our judges, members of Congress andleadersof the peo 
 ple, and were generally as earnest and solemn as mules. 
 
 We had debating societies in those days, and one night of every 
 week in the winter the neighbors would gather in the country 
 school house, dimly lit with tallow dips, and hear great orators 
 discuss such grave questions as to which caused the* most evil to 
 humanity, war or intemperance ; or whether Caesar or St. Paul 
 was the greater man, or any kindred question capable of presenting 
 two sides. The subject chosen a week in advance, the orators 
 selected, and the advocates designated to think aloud on their legs 
 came around with authorities, and fairly lifted the roof with their 
 eloquent utterances. These were selected for either side by the 
 president of the society, who had to decide at the end of the debate 
 which carried off the tr umph. I observed that each orator suc 
 ceeded in convincing himself, whether he captured the audience 
 or not, and it was no uncommon circumstance for the eloquent sons 
 of thunder to appeal, after adjournment, to their muscle, and treat 
 the valley to sundry darkened eyes and bloody noses. 
 
 For the position of orator on the Fourth I am attempting to 
 chronicle, we were all candidates. . The committee of citizens 
 chosen to arrange the coming celebration of vociferous patriotism, 
 after due deliberation, gave the place to one Andrew Jackson 
 Fossett. Xow, Andrew J. was a young man lately admitted to 
 the bar, of a consumptive make, who ran mainly to voice. Set on 
 end at any time, he had only to open his large mouth to pour out 
 a stream of sound that would discount a steam- whistle and put a 
 saw-mill to the blush. He possessed a vocabulary of long words 
 that fairly dazed his audience. 
 
 There was something more in this contest for place than a 
 mere exhibit of patriotic thunder. The valley possessed a lovely 
 little country girl, who for a brief period of her existence answered 
 to the name of Pop Sloan. Of medium height, slender as a 
 sylph, she had the bloom of youth grafted on a delicacy of make 
 rare to the fields of our pastoral regions. She was as pretty, to 
 
PETER PEPPERTON S FOURTH O JULY TRIUMPH. 25 
 
 use a country expression, " as a painted wagon," or to put it stronger, 
 as "& Missouri mule." 
 
 To make her attractions, if possible, stronger, she was the sole 
 heiress to all old Sloan s possessions. The citizen thus designated 
 was a man of various occupations. He kept tavern and a thorough 
 bred of Connestogy origin. He was postmaster and auctioneer ; 
 but Jiis great claim to distinction came in on the fact that he was 
 the paternal author of the divine Pop short for Polly, and a vil 
 lainous corruption of Mary. 
 
 The venerable and many-sided Sloan appreciated his possession. 
 He knew that Pop, gotten up regardless, and waiting on the table, 
 active, smiling, and amiable, blinded his guests to the weak coffee, 
 strong butter, heavy biscuits, and rancid bacon, for which they had 
 to pay in hard cash and a harder indigestion. 
 
 He countenanced all of Pop s many admirers, careful to favor 
 no one, as he sought the custom of all. " Yell have to git up 
 mighty early in the mommy he was wont to say, "to catch my 
 Pop, and I ain t a-goin to gin any fellow a lift for tamt fair." 
 
 Among these suitors were two who seemed to be favored more 
 than the others by Pop herself. One was the oratorical limb of 
 the law, the young man of the wonderful vocal organs, Andrew 
 Jackson Fossett, Esq., and the other a country youth answering 
 to the name of Peter Pepperton. Peter, or, as he was generally 
 called, Pete, was a tall, stout, ruddy-cheeked fellow, well known 
 and popular for his &ense of humor and rough, but good-natured 
 power of retort. Pete was one of our debating orators, and when 
 he rose to speak a ripple of laughter would run over the audience 
 in reponse to the broad grin with which he began his " discourse." 
 And many were the laughs that followed at his quaint, humorous 
 way of treating the arguments offered by his opponents. 
 
 I became acquainted with this love affair at an early day and 
 in a queer manner. I met Pete in the woods one afternoon when 
 he was felling timber. Inviting me to sit beside him on a stump 
 he gave me his confidence. 
 
 "I want that gal, Donk." for that was the twist he gave my 
 unfortunate name, " and I m going to git her or break a trace 
 and if I don .t I m going to git up and git myself." 
 
26 PETER PEPPERTOWS FOURTH O JULY TRIUMPH. 
 
 (< What do you mean, Pete ? " 
 
 " I mean to pull out o this neck o woods, and go to San Jo." 
 
 And the poor fellow s face took on a rueful look, so foreign to 
 it that he seemed another man. 
 
 "Well, how are you getting on in your git, Pete? " 
 
 " There s where you git me. Derned if I know. Sometimes 
 she s sweet on me, and then agin she ain t. Derned if I don t 
 think she s more in the breechin than the collar, and all on account 
 of that ornary cuss Andy Fossett. You see he sorter outshines 
 me. He s picking up lots of money at Tountin, and bucks round 
 in store clothes all the time. I ain t got em only for Sunday, and 
 then I ain t used to em. He is. Then he comes down on Sunday, 
 my day, in a spanking rig, and takes her out a-riding, and the Lord 
 alone knows what s happening in them rides/ and a vexed expres 
 sion came over the poor fellow s face, from which the perspiration 
 fairly rolled. 
 
 " Why, Pete, you can have my rig any time you want it." 
 
 " Thank you, Donk ; but she d know it wasn t mine, and then 
 I wouldn t fit the harness. I mean," he continued, seeing my 
 puzzled look, " that the thing wouldn t hitch harmonious. You 
 see them oxen ? Well, you go to em and speak gently like, as you 
 would to a hoss, and they won t move. But let me take the gad 
 and fling it over em, with an oath or two, and they ll bend to it 
 unanimous. See ? " 
 
 "I think so." 
 
 " Now that ornary son o Satan has taken to writin her letters 
 longest sort, and full of honey. She reads em to me. I thought 
 T . d try it on, too, and I got a book from Miller s store that was just 
 the thing. Here it is." 
 
 He took from his coat-pocket, hanging on a sapling, a copy of 
 the " Complete Letter- Writer," and opening on page 18 showed 
 me a model of a letter from a young man to a young lady, making 
 proposal of marriage. It began, Kespected Miss," and was in 
 every respect a cast-iron model. 
 
 "Well," continued Pete, "I copied that out in my best hand- 
 write, on pink paper, and carried it to her myself. Just as I was 
 going to hand it over, skin my buttons if I didn t see that identi- 
 
PETER PEPPERTOXS FOURTH O JULY TRIUMPH. 27 
 
 cal book on the table. I just husked my letter, quick as a shake 
 of a sheep s tail. She asked me what I had there, and I said, 
 oh, nothing but some verses for her but I guessed Andy Fos- 
 sett was a-filling the demand in that line. She gin a little scorn 
 ful laugh, like, and said Andy was a beautiful writer cuss 
 him!" 
 
 "She said cuss him?" 
 
 "Oh ! dern it, no, I thought it. Xow, Donk, I want you to 
 help me.* 
 
 " With all my heart, Pete. Shall I make love for you to the 
 girl?" 
 
 " Thunder ! no. You would put in pounds for yourself for 
 every ounce you gave me. I ll tell you how. Folks say, Donk, 
 you have more laming than common- sense. That s a lie, of 
 course. How can a man have laming without sense? I want 
 you to write me a bully love-letter, and I ll copy it. You know 
 how to do it. You can do anything but make yourself useful, 
 and you re right about that. Ef a monkey could be taught to 
 hoe he wouldn t be a show in a red coat. You write me that 
 letter, and I ll go to town next Saturday and give Bill Smith 
 the cusseJest licking he ever got for lying about you the way he 
 does." 
 
 I declined the punishment offered my enemy in my behalf, but 
 promised the letter. This did not save William S., however. He 
 was somewhat surprised to find himself denounced as a reptile and 
 liar, who was not to be permitted to promulgate slanders on his 
 (Peter s) particular friend. And to emphasize these casual remarks 
 William S. was given a free admission to certain fireworks more 
 dazzling than pleasant. William, to his credit be it recorded, 
 used due diligence, and came off second best only after a general 
 engagement that was much admired. 
 
 The love-letter was written in choice phrase, and garnished with 
 elegant extracts from Byron and Shelley. I was rather proud of 
 my work, and, giving it to Pete, assured him that it was simply 
 splendid, and if it did not fetch the divine Polly there was no use 
 trying. When I saw Pete s copy I was disgusted to find that he 
 had not only interpolated certain ardent expressions of his own, 
 
28 PETER PEPPERTON S FOURTH O JULY TRIUMPH. 
 
 but had eliminated my sweet poetry, substituting some of his owi> 
 selection, such as 
 
 The rose is red, the violet s blue, 
 Sugar is sweet and so are you. 
 
 When I remonstrated Pete said : "Oh, look here, Donk, them 
 flights of yours are high pints, and mountainous, but Pop d know 
 I didn t come by em honestly, and I don t believe she d grapple 
 em anyway." 
 
 I permitted the letter to go, and a few days after the divine Pop 
 came into our vine-clad, maple-shaded office, and requested a word 
 with me in private. I looked at my brother student, but he de 
 clined taking the hint, so I invited the fair creature to a stroll in 
 the garden. Seating myself on the rustic bench I said : 
 
 " Well, Miss Polly, what can I do for you ? " 
 
 She blushed crimson, and in blushing took on a grace that was 
 perfectly bewitching. Her silken eyelashes dropped over her 
 dreamy brown eyes, like fringed mist over moonbeams, while 
 her pert little nose, borrowing expression from the coral cleft of a 
 mouth, seemed to be asserting composure amid confusion. Sudden 
 ly, putting her hand in her bosom, she brought out Pete s letter 
 and thrust it at me. 
 
 "Hello," said I, through my mental telephone, "has the little 
 rogue discovered our fraud?" But no. she immediately said, 
 somewhat hurriedly, " There s a letter writ me by Pete. It s first- 
 rate. I didn t believe Pete had it in him." 
 
 I pretended to read, and having completed the pretence, said 
 that it was the finest thing of the sort I had ever seen. I offered 
 it to her. 
 
 " No," she said, "you keep it." 
 
 " Why should I keep poor Pete s love-letter, Miss Polly? He d 
 kill me." 
 
 " Well," she said, turning her comely head away, " I want 
 you to answer it for me. 1 don t want Pete to think I can t give 
 as good as he sends. You help me ; you can do it, and not try. 
 
 "But, Miss Polly, he will know my writing." 
 
 " Not after I copy it. I write a good hand enough, but I can t 
 
PETER PEPPERTON S FOURTH O JULY TRIUMPH. 29 
 
 compose worth a cent, and then I ain t used to such highfalutin 
 flub-dubs." 
 
 By Jove, I thought, here s business answering my own let 
 ter, and a prospect ahead of carrying on a voluminous correspond 
 ence. I consented, and as a reward for my proposed services the 
 .little rogue permitted me to girdle as the country lads called it 
 her slender waist and imprint a kiss on her rosy mouth. 
 
 " Say," she added, extricating herself from my rather ardent 
 embrace, "while you re at it, you may as well answer some of 
 these," and she put Lawyer Fossett s letters in my hand. 
 
 "Now, Miss Polly," I cried, "which of these two love-sick 
 swains do you favor ? " 
 
 " I don t care a button for them. They just make me sick 
 with their palaver. If they only knew how to act, like some peo 
 ple, who don t seem to care for me, it would be better for them," 
 and the little coquette shot a glance at me from under her eye 
 lashes that made my heart jump to one side, like a colt shying at 
 a red petticoat. For an innocent, inexperienced country girl to wii-g 
 a fellow like that, knocked me dizzy. I made a bolt at he--, but 
 she shot under my arm and disappeared round a clump of lilacs, 
 with a musical, ringing little laugh that told of her keen appre 
 ciation of the fun, and my dire discomfiture. 
 
 What volumes of love-letters I wrote, to and from myself on 
 the side of Pete, poor fellow, who never suspecteJ, and in response 
 to the passionate Fossett s. All the while I found myself getting 
 more entangled in the meshes of the web this rustic beauty wound 
 about me. 
 
 Talk about the world s m-isters of diplomacy, there is m^re 
 subtle art and power in a girl just out than any ever possessed by 
 the Talleyrand s and Metternichs of h story. To see through one, 
 and yet remain unseen ; to be cool, collected, and shrewd in the 
 hottest contests, to win through inimi able tact the subject dealt 
 with, and make the wise-t man play the fool, give me a woman as 
 she comes from the hands of nature. 
 
 With all the advantage I possessed of Polly s confidence, I 
 failed to make any progres , and was kept at a certain distance 
 that always seemed to be about closing and never closed. 
 
30 PETER PEPPERTON S FOURTH O JULY TRIUMPH. 
 
 My friend Pete seemed satisfied with my love-letters written 
 him through Polly, and often brought them to me for a better in 
 terpretation of their meaning, as well as answer. I did not want 
 the pretty Polly to marry either. I was in love with her, in a cer 
 tain fashion, and feared Fossett more than Pete ; so trying a little 
 diplomacy in my part, I threw cold water on Andrew J. while I 
 encouraged Pete. 
 
 The time came for the celebration of the Fourth, and great was 
 the preparation thereof. All the farmers far and near agreed to 
 fetch provisions, which meant an unlimited supply of " chicken 
 fixins," pies and cakes, heavy enough to give dirt-eating Indian 
 diggers a dreadful indigestion. An old smooth-bore, said to have 
 seen service in the war of 12, was borrowed and a gun-squad or 
 ganized, with the aged Chop ank for captain, and it was much 
 surmised that if the ancient Choptank, who "fit under Perry," 
 could remain sober until after the salute of thirteen guns the 
 salute would be a success. Otherwise it was surmise 1 there would 
 be casualties, and some people s arms and legs would be sacrificed 
 to the old smooth-bore and the Fourth. A b ass band of six dis 
 cordant pieces from Fountain had volunteered, and gave assur 
 ances they would play tho " Star Spangled Banner," <f Hail Co 
 lumbia," and " Yankee Dor die," so as to distinguish one from the 
 other. A moral showman was licensed to exhibit his " natural 
 curiosities," which consisted of a fat woman and anacondas, the 
 skeleton man, and a bottled pig possessed of two heads and an 
 assortment of ta ls. 
 
 Such a Fourth had never before been celebrated in the val 
 ley, and probably never will be again. 
 
 Unfortunately, within a week of the great occasion, the elo 
 quent orator of the d <y, Andrew Jackson Fossett, was taken down 
 with a violent attack of the quinsy. He could not speak above a 
 whisper, and could not swallow at all. Of course, he had to be 
 eliminated from the proceedings. It was too late to engage an 
 other. No one of us, on such short notice., would undertake the 
 duty. Now a Fourth without an orator was " Hamlet" without 
 Hamlet, King, Queen. Ophelia, or even Yorick s skull. 
 
 To the amazement of every one, suddenly IVer Pepper- 
 
PETER PEPPERTOX S FOURTH O JULY TRIUMPH. 31 
 
 ton volunteered. It was Hobson s choice, and Pete was 
 accepted. 
 
 "Do you want me to help you?" I asked the volunteer the 
 day he was accepted. 
 
 "No, Douk. Got a better lay-out than that. Keep you re 
 off eye on me. I m goin to git her this time or break a trace. 
 Stay in the high grass till ye hear me yell, then tumble out an 
 see big Ingin." 
 
 The Fourth came, big with the fate of Peter and his love. As 
 sembled in Whopple s grove, the farmers and farmers wives and 
 children, gotten up in their store-clothes, perspired in profusion 
 while listening to the six pieces of a brass-band, that made up in 
 blowing all thry lacked in music. Captain Choptank, with his 
 gun-squad and old smooth-bore, at intervals startled the jays and 
 our assembly with a mouthing roar that to d in thunder of the 
 glorious struggle of our fathers for independence. The venerable 
 Choptank was very drunk, even at that early hour, but he 
 seemed quite as efficient drunk as sober. 
 
 The Eev. Doolittle Stubbs opened the ceremonies with an 
 eloquent address to the " Throne of Grace." Then followed the 
 reading of that elegant compos tion from the pen of the immortal 
 Jefferson, called the Declaration of Independence, and then Peter 
 came to the front, in gorgeous apparel and a high state of perspi 
 ration. Assuming a bold, pugilistic position, peculiar to Fourth of 
 July orators, he paused before giving the British lion one in the 
 countenance to take us into his confidence, by saying : " Feller- 
 citizens, ladies, and gentlemen." His opening sentence was lost in 
 old Chop tank s loar from the smooth-bore. 
 
 When the noise had subsided, I discovered that Pete had 
 launched the ship of state. The S. of S. is alwlays launched 
 in a Fourth of July oration. It has rough weather, of course. 
 The clouds darken, the thunder rolls, the mountain waves mount 
 to the skies. But there is a hand at the helm, and he steers 
 the bark, laden with the hopes of humanity, safely to its harbor. 
 This introduces Washington, and Washington is a Moses, a star, 
 a mountain peak, and a god. 
 
 Washington, of course, lets fly the American eagle. Pete flew 
 
32 PETER PEPPERTON S FOURTH O JULY TRIUMPH. 
 
 the eagle for all it was worth. He had one wing on the Alleghenies, 
 the other on the Rockies, while the tail o ershadowed the Can- 
 adas and while screaming and soaring in the most terrible man 
 ner the British lion was seen in full retreat across the stormy seas, 
 quite sick, and fearfully demoralized. 
 
 Pete was acquitting himself with rare excellence. He 
 had suddenly broken out like an Indian war in full bloom 
 as a great orator. I never had heard such a volume of sounds, 
 never such a collection of many-syllabled words. The audience 
 applauded every sentence, and Choptank s cannon roared in 
 response. 
 
 In the midst of this the sick Andrew J. Fossett appeared, and 
 was helped kindly to a seat. His neck was done up in a huge 
 poultice, and his face was pale as death. Suddenly the sick man 
 staggered to his feet. His face reddened to the tint of a boiled 
 lobster and his eyes glared with the gleam of a maniac. He could 
 only utter shrieks, while he gesticulated like a windmill struck by 
 a cyclone. 
 
 He was delirious, all thought, and kind but strong arms carried 
 him away, while Pete in his peroration had Columbia soaring and 
 tyranny sinking in the dark vortex of coming time. " Upward 
 and onward!" cried Pete, "the star of liberty gleamin with 
 dazzlin refulgence, in her crown of glory, casting its light 
 ning ray adown the coming centuries of untold time, reflaring, 
 reflecting, ad infinitum, onward and upward forever. E pluribus 
 unum ! " 
 
 Pete closed. The audience shouted. The women waved hand 
 kerchiefs, the men cotton umbrellas. Choptank fired his last 
 charge, and the band struck up blame me if I know what it 
 struck up, but it was a noise, to which the assembly scattered, and 
 I saw Pete, with Polly upon his arm, march off to the collation, 
 with her sweet face beaming in love and triumph. 
 
 Two weeks thereafter they were married. 
 
 Andrew Jackson Fossett was very ill for a month thereafter. 
 When convalescent he sank into a profound gloom, as if his life 
 were blighted. He proved this by throwing up his profession and 
 becoming that elegant enemy of man known as a hotel clerk, 
 
PETER PEPPERTON S FOURTH O JULY TRIUMPH. 33 
 
 with a diamond breast-pin, at a fashionable hotel in a distant 
 city. 
 
 Years after Pete confided to me a startling fact that solved 
 the mystery of this strange affair. He had stolen his rival s 
 oration. 
 
LUNY LE1ST. 
 
 NOVEL III. 
 
 THE railroad station known as Glen Cove is one of the dreariest 
 this side of that final abode said to be extremely sultry, where all 
 presidents, directors, and other railway officials, more especially 
 ticket-agents, fetch up and finish their labors. Were it not so 
 hard on Mugby Junction, I should say Glen Cove was the Mugby 
 Junction of America. Indigestion is kept there, like fixed ammu 
 nition in the quartermaster s department, to serve out at a mo 
 ment s notice to hungry and insane passengers, and it is safe, for 
 the trains carry the sufferers to die in distant localities. 
 
 One hot, sunny day of midsummer I found myself anticipating 
 the punishment due for sins and shortcomings in this world by 
 waiting for an eastern -bound train long overdue, as if the trains, 
 like the passengers, disliked approaching the depot at which I 
 suffered. 
 
 A surly telegrapher, also ticket agent, who jerked lightning, 
 shot insults and tickets through a hole at people, told me, after 
 an hour s cross-examination that was very cross, that my train had 
 brought up in a corn-field, and I could not possibly get away by rail 
 before midnight. 
 
 Now, what to do with myself from the noon of this information 
 to the noon of night was a question that sorely perplexed me. I 
 had no book, no papers, no anything to relieve the dull monotony 
 of that awful wait. 
 
 I wandered listlessly about the dirty depot and platform. Both 
 were hot enough to roast potatoes in the shade. I gazed on nay, 
 I studied all the colored bills, giving picturesque views of various 
 towns, and telling in assorted type the advantages each had over 
 the other the only bit of amusement I had, and it was very mild. 
 I found in guessing at the missing letters of a bill which read 
 " ROUGH LIKE TO CHICAGO," some scamp had cut out the initial 
 
LUNY LEN. 35 
 
 "Th" when the bill had originally read, "Through Line to 
 Chicago. 
 
 While upon the platform gazing at an accommodation train just 
 in, that was awaiting its conductor who was leisurely ge ting orders 
 from the telegrapher, I was attracted by a noisy crowd of men and 
 boys, gathered about a young fellow whose face indicated the idiotic 
 condition that originated their entertainment. 
 
 He was a tall, broad shouldered, well-formed youth, and well 
 dressed for one in his condition. But he had his clothes half-but 
 toned, in the loose, reckless manner of his class, while his face, 
 without its intellectual outlook, was regular in feature, and one 
 could see, had there been a brain back of it, would have been emi 
 nently handsome. As anxiety and care had ceased writing its rec 
 ord of age upon his face, it was difficult to tell his age. He had 
 the form of a man and the face of a child. 
 
 " It s the opinion of this crowd, Len," said the blacksmith to 
 the idiot, "that you can beat that locomotive in a race from here 
 to the tunnel, and we have bet ten thousand dollars on it." 
 
 The poor fellow s dead face lit up with an expression of de 
 light, so pitiable that it would have disarmed any other crowd than 
 the one engaged in chaffing him. He gazed wistfully at the huge 
 locomotive that stood hissing in the hot sun as if wrathful at the 
 delay, and then he turned to the cruel crowd as if the suggestion 
 was slowly working its way through his poor crippled brain. 
 
 " Go in, Len," cried one of the crowd, " we ve got our money 
 on you, and you re bound to win." 
 
 " We ll give you fifty yards the start. You keep on the track/ 
 cried the blacksmith, "and the thing can t pass you. 
 
 I could scarcely believe these scoundrels were in earnest, when 
 the surly engineer gave the last bang to his noisy bell, exploded a 
 short snort from the locomotive in the way of warning, and to my 
 astonishment I saw the idiot, throwing off his coat, start down 
 the track ahead of the train. Fortunately the engineer caught 
 sight of the poor fellow, and checking the speed of the locomotive, 
 began ringing him off the track. This was responded to by the 
 idiot bawling out with great glee: "Come on with your old tea 
 kettle!" and the brutal crowd cheered and roared with laughter. 
 
36 LUNY LEN. 
 
 The crowd, keeping along with the train, cheered lustily, and 
 the lunatic "spurted," as they say in a boat-race that is, shot 
 ahead and exhibited considerable power as a racer by the speed 
 with which he got over the ground. The engineer, infuriated at 
 the delay, put on speed and rattled after. But he was upon a 
 down-grade, and, fearful of overtaking the unfortunate, he almost 
 immediately put on the brakes and checked up again. 
 
 By this time heads were thrust out of windows and the plat 
 forms crowded by passengers whose excitement became noisy and 
 intense as they discovered that it was a human being instead of a 
 cow that impeded their progress. As for the idiot, he paused only 
 long enough to indulge in a jeering laugh and a gesture that was 
 more irritating than decent. 
 
 The crowd of brutal loafers that exhibited more industry in 
 accompanying the race on this occasion than they had probably 
 manifested in making an honest living for a year previous, went 
 tearing along each side of the locomotive, laughing, shouting, 
 cheering on the idiot, while hurling all sorts of exasperating 
 epithets at the engineer, who, by this time, was nearly blind with 
 rage. 
 
 At this moment the conductor made his appearance, and, crawl 
 ing out upon the tender, began throwing lumps of coal at the boy, 
 as the engineer, putting on steam, drew near the poor fellow. 
 
 Fortunately the conductor s aims were not well taken, for had 
 the young man been knocked down the locomotive would have 
 undoubtedly run over him. 
 
 From this the rough autocrat of the train soon desisted, for 
 the idiot s backers, with an American sense of fair play that ani 
 mates even the roughest of our brutes, began pelting the conductor 
 with stones, each pebble sent with the accuracy of a rifle-shot at 
 that part of his animal economy where the legs end and the body 
 begins. He retreated hurriedly to the engine-house, where he 
 rubbed his person in a comical way with one hand, while with the 
 other he assuaged his wrath by a furious ringing of the bell. The 
 engineer seconded his efforts by letting off short shrieks and keep 
 ing the locomotive frightfully close upon the heels of the wretched 
 youth. 
 
LUNY LEN. oi 
 
 Having begun life with a strange disposition to take upon my 
 self the ills of others, and finding such practice extremely unpleas 
 ant and useless, I have gradually trained myself into the other 
 extreme, and generally bear the misfortunes of my friends with a 
 philosophical indifference that is very composing. On this occa 
 sion, however, I forgot my cynicism and found myself running 
 under that broiling sun, shaking my fist, with my heart in my 
 mouth, at the conductor, and demanding in the most authorita 
 tive manner that he stop the train. 
 
 From the depot to the tunnel was about half a mile ; to accom 
 plish this distance the train and idiot occupied some four minutes. 
 The passengers, crowded at windows and on the platforms, took as 
 lively an interest in the affair as the entire population of Glen 
 Cove that accompanied the train and backed the idiot. It was a 
 Godsend to the passengers, and they expressed their satisfaction by 
 the liveliest betting and cheers, first for the locomotive and then 
 for its strange competitor. 
 
 It was neck-and-neck between life and the locomotive. A 
 false step, a stumble, and the huge mass of roaring, throbbing iron 
 would have gone crushing over the frail body of the man who so 
 strangely impeded its progress. And such result was imminent ; 
 for the poor fellow, exhausted by excitement and over-exertion, 
 staggered at times, and at times reeled as if about to fall, in a way 
 to make me shudder. 
 
 That such would probably have been the result became 
 painfully apparent, when an abrupt and somewhat unexpected 
 termination was put to the cruel sport. The man stationed at 
 the mouth of the tunnel and employed to keep its murky depths 
 clear of obstructions, suddenly seized tha youth, at the risk of his 
 own life, and threw him with some violence to one side. Such 
 was the effort that both rolled over, and the huge locomotive, 
 giving a shrill scream of triumph, dived into the tunnel, f Jlowed 
 by the long train, that disappeared as if the earth had opened and 
 swallowed it. 
 
 I sat down at the mouth of the subterranean excavation quite 
 exhausted as the crowd dispersed, and from the mouth of the 
 dark entrance was pleased to find a cool, damp air that came out in 
 
38 LUNY LEN. 
 
 puffs, as if a dragon were coiled up within and panted out its cold, 
 clammy breath. I asked the old watchman a series of idle 
 questions, of a statistical sort, such as a man under the circum 
 stances always indulges in. He grunted out the exact length of 
 the tunnel, the time required to construct it, the accidents that 
 occurred within his remembrance, and altogether, in response to 
 my leading questions, exhibited a good deal of information on 
 tunnels. For a, man to know one thing well is a power. It is bet 
 ter, however, to believe you know Fome one thing and impart the 
 information to your friends. It is a bore at best and just as well 
 when it takes the shape of a tunnel. 
 
 Having exhausted the hole in the ground and really, come to 
 think of it, there was nothing in it I spoke of the late race. 
 
 " Crazy jackass ! " quoth the sententious guardian of the 
 excavation ; " he ll git killed yet, and sooner the better for all 
 consarned." 
 
 " Why, do they often put him up to that?" 
 
 " No, not frequent. They do it on t at train sometimes, for 
 they hate the conductor. Onct, long ago, it wasn t needed. He 
 used to run ahead of every t ain, clear through the tunnel, a 
 warnin people off. They switched that out uv him. Now the 
 ornary cusses puts him up to it." 
 
 " Queer sort of insanity/ 
 
 " Isn t it ? and he was onct a bright feller a rale schollard." 
 
 " Indeed?" 
 
 " Yes, was onct, but left his senses in this tunnel." 
 
 "Why, how was that?" 
 
 " Well, you see, he s the son of old Judge Conrad, of these 
 parts only child at that and was sent to college, and no end of 
 trouble taken and money spent to finish and furnish up his 
 intellects. When he came home to study law, what does he do 
 but take after a little girl named Mary Grubbs, da ter of the 
 cooper, an she was poor as a pig an purty as a painted wagon. 
 Well, I guess she was about the handsomest critter in this part of 
 the vineyard. Len Conrad was struck, I tell you, after Polly, as 
 we called her, an I don t wonder ; for her hair was as soft and 
 light as silk on early corn, an she had the handsomest teeth, an 
 
LUXY LEX. 30 
 
 the biggest, wonderfullest dark eyes, air an angeliferous skin. 
 But neither she nor her old cooperin dad had a cent, so the 
 Conrads, bein toploftical mahogany high posters, just shut down 
 on her/ 
 
 "The old, old story." 
 
 " I don t know ef it s so old. Perhaps you ve heerd it afore, an 
 I can save my wind." 
 
 "I mean that the course of true love never does run smooth." 
 
 "Oh! that s it, is it?" 
 
 " Xo offence, old man. But proceed with your yarn and tell 
 me how Len Conrad left his senses in the tunnel." 
 
 "That s what I was a comin to when you put in your chin 
 music. When Len found the family was forninst the courtin he 
 took to mee:in her unbeknownst. That was found out, and then 
 it was decreed that Len should be sent to Yourope. The even in 
 upon Lens departure he meets his girl, av course, an they mean 
 dered naterly a li tie too late, an undertook to make a short-cut to 
 the cooper house through the tunnel. I saw the cloves go in. She 
 was a-leanin on his shoulder a-weepin, an he looked as if he d lost 
 his mother-in-law." 
 
 " Mother-in 1 iw ! " 
 
 " That s a little joke o mine, mister. I mean he looked like a 
 canned funeral. I warned em not to try the tunnel, for it was 
 close on to the time for the lightnin express. But they didn t 
 heed or hear me jes kept on in. After they had left I got that 
 oneasy I took my lantern an run arter em. Jes as I came 
 in sight the infernal thing came a roarin past Glen Cove it don t 
 stop there an I heard the whistle as the death on wheels plunged 
 into the tunnel. I jammed the wall, I tell yez. I could see Len push 
 his girl agin the same so the train might pass and not touch, an 
 like a flash I saw her tear away. Now, whether she was scart and 
 didn t know what she was about, or wanted to kill herself, can t be 
 known, but she shot right in front ovthat train. I saw the head 
 light shine like a flash uv lightn ng on a white, frightened face as 
 I crowded back ag n the wall, an then with a roar like thunder, an 
 the whole thing seemed wiped out as if a sponge had sorter 
 sponged us out. I heard the train s thunder sort of spread as it 
 
40 LUNY LEN. 
 
 left the tunnel, as if soundin the murder over the land, an I 
 stood there in a sort uv a daze listnin to that roar die out in the 
 distance. When I come round, which 1 did in a minit, I ran on. 
 I stumbled over po >r Len, lyin as if dead, an 7 then I run up and 
 down at least twict before I saw a heap that looked like a bundle 
 of rags soaked in bl od, an will you believe, the bundle moved. 
 It was only a quiver, an all was still. She d dn t make a lovely 
 corpse when we got it togther. S^me people sickened an fainted 
 when they saw it." 
 
 "AndLen?" 
 
 " We carted him home. The doct TS could not find any bones 
 broken, cuts, or hurt inside or out, but he lay sorter stoopid six 
 weeks and then got up an has been looney ever since." 
 
 "Poor fellow." 
 
 " Should think so. Queerest thing about the poor chap was 
 that he took to runnin ahead uv trains, gohr through the tunnel 
 a-warnin people off, He sorter got that hammered out uv him." 
 
 " The old folks learned a lesson, eh ? " 
 
 " Not much ; can t teach sich old stoopids much. They do 
 say the old Jedge has softenin uv the brain, but I don t believe 
 he had any to soften." 
 
HANDLED GOODS. 
 
 NOVEL IT. 
 
 MAKING a hasty escape from the Green Briar White Sulphur 
 Springs, where the wretched fare poisoned the day and the noise 
 at night robbed one of sleep, I took refuge at the Old Sweet 
 Chalybeate Springs. Xext to the Congressional Library at Wash 
 ington, this place is the least frequented and quietest resort 
 known to South- rn humanity. A few fashionable people willing 
 ever to pay for their exclusiveness ; a few noted men whose pock 
 ets accord with their taste and really seek for rest ; a number of 
 old habitues given to quiet games of poker and silent drinking ; 
 quite a number of invalids making a hard fight for life, compose 
 the patrons of the Old Sweet, and the quiet repose was so startling 
 that I felt like one escaping from a Donnybrook fair who finds 
 himself in an old moss-grown cemetery. 
 
 Sitting one morning on one of those instruments of torture 
 called a rustic bench at the Spring, I saw a fair lady com ng to 
 wards us along the elm-shaded walk, escorted by a youth got 
 up in white flannel, punctuated by a blue necktie, and as he 
 carried his light panama hat in hand, his blond hair appeared 
 evenly parted on that bulbous termination to a spinal column 
 called a head. The young man had an eye-glass screwed in before 
 one optic, that being held to its place by muscular effort, gave to 
 one side of his face the appearance of a much wrinkled monkey s, 
 while the other was as smooth and youthful as an infant s. 
 
 I knew the lady Miss Adelaide DePros. She was for many 
 seasons a belle at Washington, and lifting my hat at her approach, 
 got in return a smile of recognition that flashed over her fair, pale 
 face like sunlight over ice. As she sipped at a glass of water her 
 escort gave her, my mind went back over the years to the time 
 when this lovely girl appeared to rise on society like a new-born 
 Venus from a foamy sea of skirts. I use this well-worn figure 
 
42 HANDLED GOODS. 
 
 because of the fascinating freshness the little maiden gave the 
 fashionable world. Of course her family and the remnant of 
 wealth left from the civil war gave her position, but the winning 
 qualities were all her own. Her great beauty was enhanced by a 
 strange combination of frankness and diffidence that made her-at 
 once shy and confiding. 
 
 Ah me, social life has changed for the worse since that day, 
 and especially at Washington. Time was when beauty reigned 
 at our capital as wealth reigns to-day. I remember when Miss 
 Woodbury had a greater following than Henry Clay. The advent 
 of a fresh belle was heralded, and when she came a way opened of 
 itself before her in ball-rooms and at receptions, where a general 
 silence was followed by murmurs of admiration. That was the 
 day of bouquets and serenades, duels and public adorations. In 
 the smoking-rooms, cloak-rooms, and barber shops of House and 
 Senate, eminent solons interspersed political jokes with stories of 
 fair women, and eloquent members looked up to the galleries, not 
 in fear of journalists, but to get inspiration from lovely faces and 
 bright eyes. The fair forms and the eloquent solons have long 
 since mouldered into dust, and in their places the money-getters 
 of our busy life are the actors who move an empire and tread to 
 earth, as under the hoofs of animals, the poetry of life. 
 
 But to return to our mutton. Miss Adelaide s season ended in 
 a little romance wherein she fell captive to the wooing of a 
 Southern youth, about the worst selection she could have made 
 from the army of men who eagerly sought her hand. She be 
 came engaged, and her father consented only on an agreement 
 from the young people that the marriage should be deferred for 
 a year. Before the year was out the lover broke his troth, and 
 married a wealthy widow, so much older than himself that she 
 could have been his mother, and might well be counted on to be 
 his sainted Maria before many years of ill-usage. 
 
 Miss Adelaide did not sicken and die of unfortunate true love. 
 She had too tough a fibre for that, and too much self-respect to 
 marry from pique the first eligible offer. The lesson taught her 
 made a heartless coquette. She found amusement in playing 
 with hearts, while she kept her own untouched. 
 
 It was interesting to study the lovely face as through season 
 
HANDLED GOODS. 43 
 
 after season the girlish freshness faded. It gave place to an in 
 tellectual outlook almost as fascinating. Men fell as readily in 
 love with her as before, but while she favored many she commit 
 ted herself to no one, and stories were told of promising men 
 ruined by her as she dismissed them right and left. It was said 
 that some took to business and others to drink. Of course all 
 these stories of her fatal influence were got up by envious 
 rivals. Men have gone to drink and cards and ruined themselves, 
 but never from love. That would have been their end, of course, 
 had never an Adelaide De Pros crossed their paths. 
 
 Time was kind to Adelaide, and the winning beauties of her 
 face disappeared only to give place to others, but these others 
 were not of the sort to win eligible husbands, and at thirty the 
 beautiful woman found herself yet a belle, "followed, flattered, 
 sought, and sued," but not by men from whom she could select a 
 husband. Of late she had devoted herself to religion and litera 
 ture, but neither in piety nor books could she see for herself a 
 future that would render her either successful or content. She 
 had not entirely exhausted either Europe or our own continent, 
 but she had exhausted herself, and depressed in spirit and health, 
 she had come to the Old Sweet under the care of General Janson 
 and family, with nothing but a blooded horse and riding-habit to 
 detract her attention from cards, meditation, and a care of her 
 health. 
 
 As she walked away, a voice at my elbow said, "Handled 
 goods/ I turned with an angry interrogation point in my eyes to 
 stare at Hamilton Porkus, of Chicago. 
 
 This young man had made himself familiar to every guest at 
 the Spring. He did not rest with these, but was on the best of 
 terms with the diamond-breasted man of the clerk s office, whose 
 insolence of manner made every one long for a shotgun ; with 
 that gorgeous creature the head waiter of the dining-room, who 
 made one feel as if he ought to go out and buy some new clothes ; 
 and he had the run of the stables, where he passed the greater 
 part of his time. Young, rather handsome, easy, good-natured 
 and impudent, he offended nobody while failing to please any one. 
 
 The only son and heir of the late Doctor Porkus, the young 
 
4:4 HANDLED GOODS. 
 
 man lived to spend the million his medicated parent had accumu 
 lated through a patent pai extractor. Cool, cunning, and selfish, 
 the heir held well to the fortune. His earlier sorrow and disgust 
 came of the fact that society did not recognize his claims, and 
 later certain ills that flesh is heir to made him unhappy. He had 
 inherited enough of his father s money-getting instincts to shut 
 him out of an enjoyment of life. Hence travel bored him, art 
 and literature were dead letters to him, and, dimly conscious of 
 the fact that good society ignored him, he had but one ambition, 
 and that was to be one of that mythical world. 
 
 " Gambling," he was wont to say, "is no good. I don t want 
 a fellow s money, and, by God, I don t want him to have mine. 
 Dissipation well, I tried that can t stand it. At the end of last 
 winter I was sick to crying, as the country girls say. A friend 
 told me to see Fordyce Barker. I did ; he punched and pounded 
 me, tumbled me up and down, located my trouble in the liver, 
 gave me a prescription and a bill of two hundred dollars. Then 
 another friend said I must see Hammond. Hammond Porkus did 
 all Barker s punching and pounding, then he stuck pins in my legs, 
 looked into my eyes an-1 said he saw an obscure disease in the 
 base of my brain. He saw five hundred dollars of my money at 
 the same time. Then I went to Leart, and he said I had the 
 new nervous disorder that began with a bang in the head and 
 ended with softening of the brain. This information cost me two 
 hundred dollars. Then I tried Bartholow ; he gave me twenty 
 minutes and a demand for two hundred and fifty. While I was 
 counting out the money, he told me I didn t need a physician but 
 a hoe-handle and skim milk. Go to the country/ he said, live 
 on thirty-seven and a half cents a day and earn it. I came back 
 to Washington, and Garnett said I had Washington malaria that 
 was bottled and labelled champagne and whiskey, and advised me 
 to go to Old Sweet and soak it out." 
 
 This was the man that had said "handled goods" as the 
 beautiful Miss Adelaide swept away. As I did not like the coarse 
 expression, not taking it clearly, he continued : 
 
 " Handled goods, Colonel, are apt to be damaged second-hand 
 any how and a fellow wants the article fresh if he wants it at all," 
 
HANDLED GOODS. 45 
 
 " You find a good deal of handled goods at these summer re 
 sorts, Mr. Porkus." 
 
 "You bet. The guls are thrown on the market, and a good 
 deal pawed over before taken. Don t like it. Handled goods are 
 apt to be damaged goods/ 
 
 " You should go into the rural districts, and get some charm 
 ing, fresh country lass to make you happy." 
 
 Mr. Hamilton Porkus gave a quite little laugh, and responded, 
 "Tried it, by Jove! Xo-go, Colonel; was down for an autumn 
 at a country house. Had a sweet little blonde pitched at me. Xo 
 chignon, by Jove ! real hair on plump white shoulders ; little or 
 no pannier ; all natural as morning glories, moss-roses, and fresh 
 eggs. Thought my time had come. We rode and walked and 
 spoonied for three months. By Jove ! done up that parcel in 
 three weeks ; time flew so. Well, I popped, and she just come 
 down into pocket as natural and sweet and soft ; well, for a week I 
 was in a rural heaven with an angel done up in muslin and loving 
 simplicity. One day I came in from a bit of gunning, and passing 
 by the identical summer-house where I had popped, I heard a 
 little cry garnished with sobs. The leaves were dropping from 
 that summer-house, and the wind blew so that it might be a sound 
 from both ; but I turned in, and. by Jove ! there was my rural 
 felicity in the arms of a tall fellow, ugly to me as Satan, and 
 wearing a bob-tailed navy-blue. When they saw me the fellow 
 looked fierce, and my love flabbergasted. Well, in an instant she 
 flopped not in my arms, but down upon her knees, and with sob 
 bing voice and streaming eyes begged me not to break her heart, 
 that she loved Henry Augustus. I said handled goods/ and as 
 rural felicity didn t comprehend, I said, Rise up, Isabella ; take 
 her, navy-blue. Bless you, my children ! ; 
 
 I give Mr. Hamilton Porkus at length, for he is the hero of 
 our one bit of romance. He met his fate, and a better one than 
 he deserved, leaving out the million accumulated from the patent 
 pain extractor. It came about in this wise : Mr. Hamilton Porkus 
 had nothing to engage his active intellect but treatment, and it was 
 the most natural thing in the world that he should become devoted 
 to the fair lady. She received his attentions graciously. They 
 
46 HANDLED GOODS. 
 
 walked in pairs, rode together, and the gossips of the resort felt a 
 real pity for the poor youth who was being, as they said, led on 
 to be jilted in the end. 
 
 The affair had been going on some six weeks before I arrived, and 
 I was not slow in coming to the conclusion that Miss Addie meant 
 business. I thought it pitiful as others did, but from a different 
 standpoint. I saw the once famous belle, who had been fished for 
 by some of the more famous men of the day, turned angler, and 
 dropping an almost naked hook before the nose of this stupid in 
 heritor of a million. She who had gone idly and wantonly 
 through rich fields of flowers, now on a barren sand stooped to 
 this weed. I was infinitely amused to see the delicate, fascinating 
 way in which she approached and tempted, without appearing to 
 do so, her proposed prize, and I wondered how far Hamilton s 
 selfishness and cunning would protect him. I could observe that 
 he did most of the talking, and I could well believe that she was 
 bending her imperious impatience to a wearied hearing, under an 
 air of intense interest, of his dull stories about himself. 
 
 In the midst of this General H., now a brilliant, successful 
 lawyer, and lately a distinguished officer in the Confederate service, 
 appeared among us, and became the devoted of Miss Addie. They 
 were old friends, and poor Hamilton was completely cut out. The 
 walks and rides and dances once his were now the property of that 
 cool, quiet, impudent fellow. It was the old story of a loan of a 
 lover, and to make that story short I have only to add that Hamil 
 ton wakened to find himself desperately, blindly in love. He 
 could not sleep nor eat, and the dreaded symptoms again appeared. 
 What with a pain in his heart and a pain in his back the poor fel 
 low was in a bad way. 
 
 I have that in my countenance that induces people to put un 
 protected females under my care while travelling and drives 
 spoonies to making me their confidant. Hamilton came to me 
 with his grief. 
 
 " Pm stuck," he said, " I am stuck for that gul, and there s 
 no mistake about it, and she throws me over throws me over for 
 thatreb." 
 
 " Did you ever give her to understand your feelings? " 
 
HANDLED GOODS. 47 
 
 e< Well, no ; you see when I had her all to myself I was ass 
 enough to think she was after me. Now don t laugh. You see 
 I ve had lots of guls throwing out signals, and she s a little old and 
 had a lively time." 
 
 " Handled goods ?" 
 
 " Xow don t. You see there s no nonsense about that gul ; 
 she s all mind and gamy. But I thought she was in chase, and I 
 just fooled along for the fun of it. But Lord, Lord, what an ass a 
 fellow can make of himself when he thinks he isn t an ass ! That 
 fellow comes, and she tosses me over like an old glove. I tell you 
 I m in a bad way, and that blarsted pain, you see, is after me." 
 
 " See here, Porkus, don t be more of an ass than you can help. 
 That girl thinks more of you this minute than she does of that 
 ex-reb." 
 
 "Oh ! come now; don t chaff a sick fellow," he cried, but 
 his face brightened and I continued : 
 
 " Yes, she is a sensible woman, and has known a good deal of 
 the human race, and she sees that you are a good, honest-hearted 
 fello\v, one to make a wife happy, while she regards this legal 
 skyrocket as a nice fellow to flirt with, but one to break a woman s 
 heart in ninety days." 
 
 " Did she tell you that ?" 
 
 " Certainly not, but I can see. Xow I tell you, go in and 
 make love to her." 
 
 " I d as soon make love to Lady Macbeth 
 
 " Nonsense ! she is a woman, therefore may be wooed. She is 
 a woman, therefore may be won. I tell you what, now you go to 
 her yonder, she is reading alone ; say that it has been some time 
 since you have had the pleasure of a ride ; ask her to permit 
 you to escort her to Fern Falls. As you ride along, tell her how 
 happy she has made your visit to the Springs, that you never can 
 forget this summer, it has been so delightful. If she takes this 
 kindly, say that you don t know how you can be contented to leave 
 here and her both, and " 
 
 " Stop ! stop ! don t put in too much or I ll forget every word. 
 I ve got the beginning, and it s first-rate. If she lets me say that 
 much, hang me if I don t bolt it all out." 
 
48 HANDLED GOODS. 
 
 t Hold hard, don t do that on horseback, it s the most awkward 
 place to pop in the world. If you re rejected you can t get away ; 
 if you re accepted you can t embrace ; horses don t understand 
 that, and by the time you get your arm around her the animals 
 pull you apart ; and if you attempt to kiss you are joggled up and 
 down all over the countenance, kissing the nose and chin more 
 than any other place." 
 
 " By Jove ! what a knowing cuss you are ; I never thought of 
 that. ; 
 
 " Make love as you ride along. At the falls you ll have to 
 assist her to dismount ; give her a little squeeze as you climb down 
 the precipice ; give one squeeze of the hand to every jump ; when 
 down just out with it ; say in a sentence, * Miss Addie, I love you 
 I can t live without you will you be mine? She will say no/ 
 they always do. But don t mind that, seize her hand kiss it 
 put your manly arm about her slender waist and hold on till she 
 says yes/ : 
 
 " Well, I ll try it on, if I die for it." 
 
 I saw him approach the fair Addie ; I saw the sweet smile start 
 from her beautiful mouth and run over her face like the first flush 
 of dawn, and that afternoon I saw them ride away together. The 
 Confederate luminary undertook to put her on her horse, but she 
 gracefully waved him away and gave her slender foot to my 
 friend. As they rode off together I heard the Confed. deliver a 
 long, low whistle, that expressed surprise I may say ama/ement. 
 It was the most expressive whistle ever whistled by an ex- Confed 
 erate officer and an immediate legal luminary. 
 
 That night Hamilton conducted me to the most sequestered 
 bench on the lawn. It was ve y late. He and Miss Addie had 
 been pacing the main walk for hours. 
 
 "Well/ I said, "how did it work?" 
 
 "First-rate; but. Lord, how I did tumble through! I was 
 stringhalted, lame, and poll-eviled all the way. I let out as we 
 rode along how happy she had made me ; it was informal, husky ; 
 I seemed to have a frog in my throat, and my heart thumped like 
 a sledge-hammer. I had to say it twice, and then she turned and 
 looked at me in such a curious way I blushed ;;!! over. Then 
 
HANDLED GOODS. 49 
 
 she gave me a lecture two miles in length on the idle, worthless 
 life I was leading what I might do with my great wealth. I 
 wanted to tell her it was all because of her. But I did get in a 
 good thing, all my own. I told her a fellow must have somebody 
 to help him do the right thing, a lovely, superior woman, and 
 I never had anybody, and she said she felt sorry for me. I 
 tell you, old fellow, she s a noble creature, and made me feel 
 small." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "I helped her down and thought Fd squeeze her hand, but 
 I hadn t the pluck. I did going down the rocks, but Caesar 
 Augustus ! what was the use ? Her little hand lay in mine cold 
 and soft as a snow-flake, and she looked as unconscious as a gate 
 post. We dawdled about there, climbing rocks and gathering 
 stuff, weedy stuff, dirty and damp, that I had to put in my pock 
 ets for her. At last, in a very wild place, I just turned on her 
 and said, husky and jerky again, * Miss Addie, would you mind 
 taking a rough fellow in hand and show him how to do the right 
 thing ? She was giving me a long, snaky weed that she said was 
 a beautiful specimen, and I dropped it and seized her hand. 
 Good Lord ! but I was scared. She jerked away and colored up 
 and said, Mr. Porkus ! as if she was going to ask me what I had 
 to say why sentence of death should not be passed there and then, 
 but she didn t, and I stood there like a sick calf in a thunder 
 storm. Then she turned and sat down on a rock, and for a devil 
 of a time looked at the tumbling waters, pulling a weed to pieces. 
 Then she looked up at me with a sad sort of smile and said : 
 
 " Mr. Porkus, am I to understand that you are serious in all 
 this, and really love me? 
 
 "I was down by her side in a second and I seized her hand, 
 and, Lord, how I did go on. She kept looking at the water, and 
 I girdled her without knowing it. I don t know what happened, 
 only she . brought me up at last by saying, There, there, I hear 
 people coming down the rocks ; behave yourself and I will do the 
 best I can to make you a good man and happy one. But she was 
 cool, I tell you/ 
 
 "Handled goods, Porkus." 
 
50 HANDLED GOODS. 
 
 "Now look here, old fellow, you don t want to quarrel with 
 me, and that s chaff on the raw." 
 
 "No, my dear fellow, on the contrary, I congratulate you; 
 you have won the most beautiful and the noblest woman in 
 Virginia. Your rival, the reb and immediate luminary, went off 
 to the White Sulphur after you left, a good deal in love and 
 deeper in liquor. 
 
AUNT HETTY. 
 
 NOVEL V. 
 
 NATIONAL traits in their popular acceptation are national 
 superstitions. Humanity is about the same the world over, and 
 while the earth has its uniformity with slight differences in 
 mountain and plain, so its products are very nearly alike. The 
 rattlesnake of the temperate zone is the cobra of the torrid, and 
 that strange combination set on end and called man may be black 
 hi Africa, yellow in Asia, copper-tinted in America, and white in 
 Europe, but he is man all the same, having reason and like appe 
 tites. The boa of India is larger than the black-snake of America, 
 but the traits are about the same, and so with men of different 
 climes. 
 
 For ages we have had the Englishman depicted in the popular 
 mind as a beef-eater, hearty, bluff, and brave. The Frenchman 
 appears as a thin, excitable, dark-haired consumer of frogs. The 
 witty, roystering. combative Irishman of the stage is the Irishman 
 of life, while we Americans are Yankees with a nasal twang, and 
 ready at any moment to turn our grandmother s bones into but 
 tons. Yet the practical observer looks in vain through England 
 for the blond beef-eater ; through France for the man who cooks 
 frogs and lives in an excited state of sacre lieu. The Irish may 
 be a rather combative people under an oppression that would stir 
 Holland to a revolt, but the stage Irishman has an exceptional ex 
 istence in real life, while the New Englanders can show, in public 
 charities, as much generous impulse as any people on earth. 
 
 This is written because of all humanity the negro has been 
 most clearly defined as possessed of certain traits that distinguish 
 the race as a separate and distinct creation from the rest of human 
 ity. This comes mainly from writers of fiction. As Cooper cre 
 ated the noble red-man, Bret Harte the heathen Chinee, so Mrs. 
 Stowe and others have given us the negro. To the critic who 
 
52 AUNT HETTY. 
 
 coolly analyzes plots and characters, this building up of the negro > 
 especially as a slave, is extremely ludicrous. It presents the 
 strongest possible argument in favor of slavery. For dramatic 
 effect the masters are presented to us as monsters of cruel iniquity, 
 and the poor slaves as wonderful specimens of patient, Christian 
 goodness. If this is the result of human servitude, such a state 
 has done more for the sway of Christ than all the gospel teachings 
 to a fallen race that ever were put to record. For one Uncle Tom 
 we can well condone a hundred Legrees. 
 
 This is written not as an essay, but to introduce a strange char 
 acter, deeply impressed on the mind of the writer ; a negro 
 woman, but so different from the accepted negro that to win belief 
 I have had to call attention to some errors of superstition that 
 forbid credence. When quite young I came to know Aunt Hetty, 
 and had for her a feeling of mingled fear and affection difficult to 
 understand and put in harmony. She was old, very old, when I 
 knew her, I being then a boy, but to the last she was erect, vigor 
 ous, and positive. When so old that her hair was white, and her 
 dimmed eyes called for spectacles, she taught herself to read, that 
 she might have her Bible to herself, and all that Bible taught she 
 construed into lessons that might have shamed many a learned 
 theologian. She found no difficulty in harmonizing the God of 
 vengeance with the Christ of love, and while tender and loving to 
 the little ones left to her care, she was as stern as fate in the pun 
 ishment of youthful wrong- doing. The keen insight of youthful 
 character she possessed gave her a knowledge of our wicked ways, 
 that seemed to us miraculous. There was no orchard robbed, no 
 hen-house despoiled, no swimming on Sundays that old Aunt Hetty 
 did not know of, and she could single out the leader with an un 
 erring certainty that made our vigorous lying of no avail. 
 
 There was a tradition, to the effect that Aunt Hetty was an 
 African princess, afloat, and, in our youthful eyes, she certainly 
 had the ways of one. Tall, slender, with a skin as black as ever 
 Africa produced, she had a quiet dignity of movement that im 
 pressed itself upon all. She had not only taught herself to read, 
 but she had trained her tongue to a better use of the English 
 language than shown by many of her superiors, white and edu 
 cated though they were. 
 
AUXT HETTY. 53 
 
 In all self-training Aunt Hetty had one model she studied and 
 imitated, and that was her old master, Colonel Jacob Parnne. The 
 individuality of this old soldier of the Revolution was so marked 
 and strong that no one could come within its range without feeling 
 its influence. Of Huguenot blood he was by birth and through 
 generations a French Puritan. His keen, dark eyes, prominent 
 Roman nose, and no less prominent chin, with his spare, upright 
 figure, indicated that he was a man who walked with God, and 
 walked in a very upright and soldierly manner. There were with 
 him no questions of morality and religion. They had all been 
 ended, judgment rendered, and the book closed when John Calvin 
 announced the decisions of the Lord. 
 
 Entering the service as a private when the colonies rebelled 
 against the mother country, he fought his way up, through all the 
 great battles, to the rank of Colonel. 
 
 Colonel Jacob Parnne s reasons for this patriotic service were 
 strictly private and his own. The political aspect of the quarrel 
 did not interest him. The taxation without representation and 
 all the list of other grievances he treated with contempt but as 
 his grandfather had fled from France rather than submit to the 
 rule of the Catholic Church, he regarded the Church of England 
 as the bastard offspring of what he called the " scarlet woman of 
 Rome," and against the Established Church he carried on the war. 
 As he found no one to sympathize with him in this view of the 
 contest, he felt that he alone was the instrument of God to carry 
 on the war. 
 
 Next to Calvin the old Colonel believed in George Washington. 
 The intense seriousness of the rebel General, with the imposing 
 length of his figure, impressed his admirer to such an extent, that 
 even the great Virginian s profanity could not shake his confidence. 
 On the contrary, through one of those subtle processes of mind 
 common where the will is the principal agent in forming belief, 
 General Washington s profanity strengthened the Colonel s faith. 
 
 He sat one day, for example, on a pile of rails binding up a 
 wound with a handkerchief, when, in the road near him. Wash 
 ington and Lee met, and that historical interview, when the war 
 riors cursed each other like fishwives, occurred. "He was a 
 
54 AUNT HETTY. 
 
 traitor, sir," said the Colonel, recounting the event, and referring 
 to Lee, "and deserved the curse God gave him through the 
 mouth of General Washington." The form of the anathema, 
 however, was not of the sort one would look for in Holy Writ. 
 
 After the war the Colonel settled upon the bank of the Ohio. 
 There he "built himself a huge stone house, and for many years lived 
 in a gloomy sort of content, praying morning, noon, and night, and 
 when not looking after his farming interest, steadily reading his 
 Bible. He gave his pension to a Presbyterian parson and all his 
 time to the Lord. 
 
 Aunt Hetty was a house servant and a favorite of the old 
 Colonel, for while deeply religious, she differed from the other 
 servants in being very quiet in its expression. The master, a 
 taciturn man himself, seemed to recognize in this dignified, seldom- 
 speaking woman the sort of faith that moved his own soul. Per 
 haps it was this gained for her more consideration than was 
 awarded the other slaves. No whip ever touched Aunt Hetty s 
 back. Even the overseer, a huge brute as an overseer was forced 
 to be, spoke to this strange woman in a respectful manner. The 
 old housekeeper had but one trouble, and that was her grandson, 
 the only living creature claiming kinship to her, and all the love 
 of the strong woman went out to this boy. He had white blood 
 in him and an exceedingly wayward nature. The real trouble 
 lay in the fact that the grandmother was so anxious to have this 
 pet of hers well trained that she over-trained him. The owner 
 had no need to interfere for the purpose of punishing the boy. 
 The whippings adminis:ered to the youth were so frequent and 
 severe that the Colonel s wife, in very pity, would, at times, inter 
 fere. When the lad ran away and spent a day in the woods, as he 
 did frequently, he was certain on his return to hang about the 
 premises until he could see his kind protector, and then run to 
 claim her interference. 
 
 The time came when this kind protector could be found no 
 longer about the sombre stone house. The stately old mother of 
 ten children passed away. With thin, matronly hands folded 
 across her meek breast, she was solemnly laid to rest with five of 
 her offspring, near the place, and the old Colonel found himself 
 
AUNT HETTY. 55 
 
 alone, for the other five had grown up, married, and gone to make 
 homes of their own. 
 
 The believer in Calvin and Calvin s God found it not good to be 
 alone, and he called in the minister and elders to advise as to the 
 propriety of his taking another partner to his house. The grave 
 matter was, with much prayer, solemnly discussed, and the con 
 clusion arrived at that it would be well for the old soldier to 
 console his remaining days on earth with a suitable helpmate. 
 Had the Colonel confided to this little council in the Lord the 
 name of the woman he had selected, probably the council would 
 not have been so unanimous. They thought, of course, that some 
 staid elderly dame would be chosen, but the old man, like unto 
 any other aged widower, saw to his liking a little girl scarcely out 
 of her teens, and, with the recognized Biblical example of the 
 Hebrew patriarchs before him, had authority for his choice. 
 
 The Widow Bentley, relict of the Hon. Richard Bentley, had 
 come to the West with her only daughter to occupy the one piece 
 of property the Hon. Virginian of Richmond had spared from his 
 drinking and gambling to his family. They were very poor and 
 very proud. The fall from the gay life of luxury at Richmond to 
 the log-cabin on the Ohio, with all the privations of such a life, 
 was hard on mother and daughter, so hard that when the Colonel, 
 with dignified grace, offered himself as a husband to the little girl, 
 it was a proposition to lift them from indigence to wealth again. 
 There were tears shed over the consideration, but they were shed 
 in private. The aged wooer saw only smiles as his offer was 
 accepted. 
 
 The rude little church of God saw the sacrifice that the min 
 ister sanctified. The union of May and December received in this 
 way the sanction of the border community, that, wild and rough 
 in many respects, had a deep religious feeling of helpfulness lying 
 under its rude structure, that saw in the old Colonel s choice only 
 a special providence to the poor widow and orphan. 
 
 Both the recipients, however, awakened to the fact that the 
 blessing was not an unmixed good. The same rigid economy that 
 had marked the old soldier through life, the economy that made 
 him live on the poor, uncertain pay of the Continental Army until 
 
56 AUNT HETTY. 
 
 a property, east of the mountains, left him by his father grew into 
 a valuable estate, reigned in all its parsimony at his house. The 
 widow and daughter looked want in the face from the door of their 
 poor cabin, and privation followed them to the lonely stone mansion. 
 
 The worse feature, nevertheless, was found in Aunt Hetty. She 
 had been for years housekeeper, and, during the widower-hood of 
 her master, mistress of the mansion. Her good sense, and she 
 had more of that than all the rest combined, would have dictated 
 a quiet resignation of her post, but the Colonel regarded his new 
 wife as a mere child a fact, by the bye and would listen to noth 
 ing of the sort. It was decreed that Aunt Hetty should continue 
 to carry the keys and be responsible for the housekeeping A 
 rigid disciplinarian, his orders were law, and the poor mother, 
 making a fierce fight for her daughter s rights, brought matters to 
 a crisis that terminated the struggle. Aunt Hetty was disposed 
 to yield to the young wife, but she conceived a fierce hatred for 
 the widow. SheVent a little too far one day and gave the poor 
 woman treatment that, from a negro, was insult. There is some 
 thing in the subtle insolence of the slave that is maddening, and 
 mother and daughter, in hot wrath, ordered Aunt Hetty to be 
 whipped by the overseer. 
 
 Unfortunately this happened in the absence of the Colonel. 
 The poor woman had so managed through her life of unrequited 
 toil as to escape the lash. She submitted in silence. The over 
 seer, who hated her, did his brutal business with a will, and the 
 result was that Aunt Hetty was carried to her quarters insensible, 
 and when her master returned he found her delirious from fever. 
 From this delirium the old Colonel gathered an intimation of 
 what had occurred. He brought forward the overseer, got the 
 truth, and drove his respected mother-in-law from the house. He 
 had the one grace to give her enough money to make her way to 
 Richmond. 
 
 Aunt Hetty suffered in soul and body from the cruel torture to 
 which she had been subjected, but her real danger came in the 
 shape of a doctor, who bled, purged, and blistered the poor creat 
 ure until there was scarcely any life left her. But her strong 
 physique brought her through, and in a few weeks she returned 
 
AUNT HETTY. 57 
 
 to her duties as housekeeper. Whether the descendant of a king 
 ly line or not, she had the true instincts of a slave, and, while she 
 suffered keenly the punishment inflicted, she returned humbled 
 to her work, and from that out tempered her service with a con 
 sideration for her young mistress never shown before. The poor 
 wife g< t little comfort from this. The loss of her mother made 
 life doubly miserable. The dreary monotony of the gloomy house 
 fell upon her like a pall. She seemed buried alive, and the con 
 tinuous religious exercises appeared to her prayers for the dead. 
 Preachers, elders, and deacons came and went, and the stately old 
 Colonel took no note of time in his meditations on eternity, and 
 little of the so-called life save to keep a keen eye to the economi 
 cal expenditures of the household. 
 
 The young wife looked up to her husband in fear. She heard 
 his regular military step as he came with a shudder, and as he 
 left with a sense of relief. While he was impressively polite, 
 there was no tenderness in h : s voice, no gentleness in his manner. 
 He walked so much with God that he had no time for walks with 
 his wife. 
 
 An event soon occurred that turned the wife s fear into posi 
 tive aversion. One summer day there appeared a man at the 
 mansion who seemed to bring the atmosphere and sunlight of an 
 other world to the sombre stone house. He came unexpectedly, 
 for mails at that day were few and far between, and when Captain 
 Philip Parnne walked in even the old Colonel, his uncle, gave a 
 look of surprise. In his formal fashion he made the young man 
 welcome as he presented him to his wife. 
 
 The wife saw before her as handsome a specimen of physical 
 perfection as ever nature sat on end and endowed with human 
 impulses. He had the Parnne features greatly improved. His 
 dark eyes were larger and milder ; his Bonian nose subdued to 
 something less than an eagle s beak, while his marked ch n made 
 only a foundation to his well-formed head where the wealth of 
 chestnut hair collected in a queue behind gave a grace unknown to 
 his elders. Six feet in height, of spare figure, he balanced a pair 
 of broad shoulders above his narrow hips with such ease that every 
 movement was modulated and graceful. 
 
58 AUNT HETTY. 
 
 Captain Phil. Parnne was on the best possible terms with him 
 self and the world, for he was in superb health. His courage, like 
 his stomach, was so perfect that he did not know that it existed. 
 He had, in consequence, no fears to consult and no favors to solicit. 
 Good natured from habit, he pleased his associates, who termed him 
 a good fellow without calling for any real kindness that would 
 have disturbed his comfort. These surface readers would have 
 been astonished to learn that their good fellow was as selfish a man 
 as ever na ure created. A close observer would have read in his 
 face the fact that he had all the selfishness Nature creates into in 
 iquity so well defined that nothing but circumstances saved him 
 from being a recognized ciiminal. 
 
 It was the fashion of the day, got from the mother country, 
 where soldiers and statesmen were alike profligate, for our promi 
 nent men to be scoffers of religion and debauchees in social life. 
 Phil. Parnne partook of this condition. He had many vices, all of 
 which were then consid red gentlemanly, and he had little princi 
 ple and less conscience to offer any restraint. His very visit to 
 his uncle s house and his stay there came of this lack of integrity. 
 
 Aaron Burr, with a few men on a raft, floating down the Ohio, 
 had alarmed the whole country. We know now that this alarm 
 came from an affected anxiety on the part of Tom Jefferson, who 
 saw in the expedition an opportunity to rid himself of a dangerous 
 rival. Be that as it might, Captain PhiL Parnne, IT. S. A., was 
 sent in pursuit of the traitor. Now it happened that Aaron Burr 
 was one of Captain Parnne s most intimate friends, and while he 
 (Phil.) kept himself clear of Burr s bold intrigues he was not in 
 clined to make himself disagreeable. To this end he tied his boat 
 to the shore, below his uncle s house, and quietly made a visit long 
 enough to enable Burr to escape the arrest the Government had 
 ordered. 
 
 The noble Captain expected to find the stay at his uncle s 
 house an unmitigated bore. The sight of his youthful aunt brought 
 a change in that respect. He saw before him a beautiful woman, 
 with a child like, trusting face, from whose deep blue eyes came a 
 sad, wistful expression that told of her unhappy life. There are 
 some men who seem born without mothers, a A -d bred to manhood 
 
AUNT HETTY. 59 
 
 without sisters. Captain Phil. Parnne was of this sort, and from 
 the first moment of his introduction he saw a means by which he 
 could alleviate the monotony of his visit. 
 
 Another discovery dawned upon our Captain, that was that he 
 bid fair to starve upon the meagre allowance of his uncle s table. 
 To remedy this he not only brought up stores from the Government 
 boat, but seizing his gun brought in from hunting enough to rem 
 edy the unpleasant deficit. He was returning from gunning one 
 day, when he encountered his aunt on her way across the fields and 
 through the woods to a friendly visit at a neighbor s. He turned 
 and escorted her to her destination. Xot only that, but under 
 the plea that such excursions alone were dangerous, he learned 
 the hour of her return and accompanied her home. These visits 
 became singularly frequent, and as singularly delightful to both 
 parties. AVhile in the house the old Colonel was much given to 
 religious disquisitions, to which the infidel nephew had to listen with 
 profound attention. Away from this restraint the Captain and the 
 fair wife gave free rein to merry talk that to her was simply delicious. 
 
 To all this the Colonel was blind. Xot so, however, another 
 pair of eyes that looked out from a shrewd, thoughtful mind. Aunt 
 Hetty regarded the conduct of the two with great suspicion and 
 no favor. She knew the wrong impending, but, strange to say, 
 instead of moving to expose it, did all in her power to conceal it. To 
 understand this it is necessary to know Aunt Hetty s motive. She 
 fairly worshipped her master, and with her pride of family, so com 
 mon to household slaves, would have submitted to any torture 
 rather than have had any disgrace come to the house. It was not 
 only the stain from which she shrank, but the pain and humilia 
 tion that would fall upon her idol, the Colonel. 
 
 If she had any doubt as to what had occurred, that " ?ubt was 
 solved by her grandson, who, still given to wild excursion came in 
 one day out of breath and with stretched eyes, and tersely told to 
 Aunt Hetty what he had seen. The revelation had scarcely fallen 
 from his lips before Aunt Hetty, seizing him by the wool of his 
 head, and shaking and pounding the poor boy until he was dazed, 
 told him that if" he ever dared utter such a lie aga n she would 
 have the overseer whip him to death. 
 
60 AUNT HETTY. 
 
 The autumn-time wore on and the forest livery of green 
 was changing to the hectic hue that told of coming winter, when 
 one still hazy afternoon of the Indian Summer the report _ef a 
 mountain howitzer was heard up the ri\er, and from the porch of 
 the Colonel s house the family saw a boat a broad- horn it was 
 called sweep round the bend. Upon the deck stood a group of 
 officers, while the long oars were worked by soldiers. The b at 
 was rounded to and tied immediately below the house, and three 
 officers in full dress landed and ascended the long hill to the 
 house. 
 
 Captain Phil. Parnne s self -granted leave of absence was at an 
 end. Another army numbering sixty men was in pursuit of 
 Aaron Burr. There was no excuse left for delaying immediate 
 pursuit, and Captain Phil, felt no reluctance to moving, for he not 
 only knew that his friend Burr was beyond pursuit, but was weary 
 of a dalliance that had passed from smiles to tears. The poor 
 woman had awakened from her guilty dream to a frightened 
 consciousness of wrong that brought home to the handsome lover 
 the fact that he was paying more for the gratification of his wicked 
 passion than it had been worth. Fearing a scene at the last 
 interview from her hysterical condition, he sought to have it in 
 private. To this end, the day after the arrival of the troops, 
 he shouldered his rifle and started for a last hunt, and she, under 
 standing this, followed him under pretence of a visit. 
 
 They met in the wood but too well known to both, and 
 immediately the poor creature threw herself with a piteous cry 
 into the arms of her lover. He tried in vain to soothe and quiet 
 her, and failing in this would have given more than he was worth 
 to be rid of what he had so anxiously sought and obtained. 
 
 Oh, take me with you, Philip," she wailed ; "I shall die, 
 I shall die/ 
 
 i Come now, little one," he cried, " don t be silly. I cannot 
 take you, not now at least, but I will return in a few weeks 
 and then 
 
 Captain Phil, paused suddenly and threw the woman from 
 him so quickly, and with such violence, that she fe .l with a cry. 
 He had happened to look up, and saw in the oak immediately 
 
AUNT HETTY. 61 
 
 above him a pair of bright eyes that belonged to the half- 
 hidden figure of Aunt Hetty s grandson. Seizing his rifle that 
 he had leaned against the trunk of the tree he brought it to his 
 shoulder. The poor woman, taking in the situation at a glance, 
 spiung to her feet and caught her lover s arm as she cried : 
 
 " Oh, don r, Phil., for God s sake,, don t/ 
 
 He lowered the gun. 
 
 " Come do AH, you scoundrel, come down." 
 
 The boy slid to the ground and stood trembling before the 
 two. 
 
 " Xow go on to your visit,* he continued to the woman. 
 
 " But you won t hurt him, Phil? " 
 
 "That depends on his hurting us, but you must hurry," and 
 seeing her hesitation he added to the boy : "Get home, you 
 damned idiot, get home. " 
 
 Satisfied with this, the two, mistress and slave, started in oppo 
 site directions. 
 
 The path on which Captain Parnne stood ran straight in view 
 to him for nearly a hundred yards. He was not, however, at the 
 centre. The woman had the shorter space to travel before reach 
 ing the turn, but she staggered on slowly. The boy had the longer 
 distance, but he almost ran. 
 
 The Captain, gun in hand, watched his love. He saw her 
 disappear behind. the bushes, and turne-1 in time to see the boy 
 just at the end of the path. Throwing up his rifle, he fired 
 instantly. The whip-like report rang out, a sL nder stream of 
 smoke spurted from the muzzle, and the poor boy, throwing up 
 his arms, without a cry, seemed to leap into the gully ahead, from 
 which the path turned to the right. 
 
 The Captain walked t > the point where the woman had disap 
 peared and saw her yet wending her way. Then he returned and 
 looked down the ravine into which the murdered boy had fallen. 
 He saw the body hanging across a bent sapling. Descending 
 the steep declivity, holding to shrubs and roots, he removed 
 all traces of the fall. Then pulling the body from over the bend 
 ing sapl ng, muttered " That will do," and continued his hunt. 
 
 Some hours afterwards, returning to the house, our Captain 
 
62 AUNT HETTY. 
 
 coolly informed his uncle that he had accidentally shot one of his 
 negroes. 
 
 The old soldier gazed at him from under his shaggy eyebrows 
 and said : 
 
 " How could that happen ? " 
 
 " Stupidly enough. I heard a breaking of brush in a ravine 
 below me, and thinking it a deer, fired at the object I indistinctly 
 saw, and killed that boy whose life seemed to be spent in larking 
 through the woods." 
 
 "Yes," said the Colonel, "and I expected him to come to 
 such an end ; where is the body?" 
 
 " If you will give me a couple of men I will show them," said 
 the Captain, and the order was given. 
 
 Aunt Hetty had heard all this ; a shudder passed through her 
 frame, and a sharp glance came from her keen eyes, but she said 
 nothing. Clamping her teeth together, she even gave the order 
 for the improvised pall bearers. What agony the poor creature 
 suffered was never known, for she never gave it sound. When 
 the limp remains of all she had on earth was carried in, her grief 
 was either under too strong control or too deep for tears. She 
 neither wept nor wrung her poor labor-hardened hands those 
 humble, motherly hands that had caressed and punished this 
 sole recipient of all her love and care. There was a look in her 
 eyes, however, that, had the Captain noticed, would at least have 
 made him feel uneasy. 
 
 Under the Colonel s orders, the body was laid on sheet-covered 
 boards in the hall until a coffin could be procured and a minister 
 brought to render the last rites to the dead. 
 
 The Captain had his luggage carried to the boat without wait 
 ing for his aunt s return to take his leave. It was late when she 
 came. As Mrs. Parnne left the Captain, it happened that the 
 wind wa,s blowing from her towards the fatal spot, so that she 
 did not hear the crack of the rifle that did the fatal work. She 
 was only troubled by the thought of the exposure that might 
 follow the boy s return. Anxious about this and this alone, she 
 lingered at the neighbor s until the last moment, and then re 
 turned in ignorance of what had occurred. 
 
AUNT HETTY. 63 
 
 The sun was sinking in the hazy west, and shadows had 
 gathered in that gloomy hall when she entered. She gave one 
 look at the dead, and then, without a sound, fell to the floor. 
 
 Aunt Hetty would have warned her had she dreamed that the 
 guilty wife was unaware of the murder. Her keen sense had 
 comprehended the situation, but she had included one too many 
 in the crime. As it was, she hastily seized her mistress in her 
 arms and dragged her to her bedroom. 
 
 " Hush, missus, for God s sake, hush," she cried, as the poor 
 woman, after much rubbing, returned wailing to consciousness. 
 "Don t say dem words, de mars ll heah you shriek/ 
 
 As her admonitions had no effect, she hastily opened the 
 Colonel s medicine-chest, and grasping the laudanum, poured a 
 heavy dose down the throat of her mistress. When the old 
 Colonel looked in not long after, he found his wife sleeping like 
 an infant. But Aunt Hetty watched her all the night through 
 all the same. Between the dead boy in the hall and her sick 
 mistress in the room, that stern nature counted the hours until 
 near midnight, when her mistress awoke too exhausted to cry out. 
 
 "Go to him," she gasped, "tell him I am dying, and that 
 with my last breath I pardon and bless him." 
 
 Captain Parnne and his companions were having a carouse on 
 the boat. A table had been spread in the rude cabin, and with 
 an abundance of game, and yet more of liquor, the midnight 
 came upon them all more or less drunk. The noisiest one was 
 the Captain, who laughed and talked and sang incessantly. It 
 was the day when such feasts were garnished with songs, in which 
 the landlord was admonished to "fill the flowing bowl" that they 
 might "drink to the lass," and our Captain had a rich, mellow 
 voice with which to roll out the* stupid numbers. 
 
 Did the Captain seek to drown the voices of the dead and dying, 
 that a little way from him were speaking, speaking as if they 
 never would be still. Let that be as it may, he was startled when 
 his sergeant touched him on the shoulder and told him that a 
 woman on the bank wanted to see him. He followed the man 
 out across the plank and ascended the steep bank as directed. 
 
 The moon at the full cast a light on wood and river, which 
 
64 AUNT HETTY. 
 
 would have been that of day but for the fog that floated on the 
 cool autumnal air along the stream. While the wooded bluffs 
 above were clear and well-defined against the sky, below and 
 about him the white vapor made an inland sea almost as dense to 
 the eye as the waters of the Ohio. Captain Parnne found himself 
 in the presence of Aunt Hetty. 
 
 " Well, Aunty/ he said, " what is it now ? " She straightened 
 herself up in the misty moonlight, appearing far taller in the dim 
 light, and said in a voice in which anguish seemed held at the 
 throat by a stern resolve : 
 
 " Captain Phil. Parnne, I come to ye wid de blessin ob de 
 guilty, and de cuss of de innercent. De woman ye has ruined is 
 a dyin , and de blood of my poor boy cries to God from de ground 
 foh vengt ance. I cuss ye, I cuss ye ! May ye walk in trouble all 
 yo days, and when ye dies may death come to ye wid de woe ob 
 hell befo ye feels it. De mark ob Cain is on yo fo head. Tak 
 de blessiri of de wicked an de cuss ob de innercent/ 
 
 "Oh, go to hell, you old hag! " roared the Captain, as the tall 
 form of the terrible woman seemed to melt from him in the mist 
 of the river. 
 
 Propped on pillows poor Mrs. Parnne gazed through the win 
 dow with wistful eyes upon the river far below. The beautiful 
 stream, framed in by the golden foliage of autumn, offered to her 
 sight a long stretch in the mellow sunlight. Boats appeared at 
 long intervals, floated by and disappeared, but no flag waved above 
 any one of them ; no roll of drum or clear bugle-call told of what 
 she longed with aching heart-hunger to see. The river had swept 
 all that from her life a frail woe-stricken life, that erelong 
 floated out on that mightier river of death into the vast unknown. 
 She was given sweet Christian burial. The minister dwelt upon 
 her many virtues and chaste womanly li r e, and a text of Scripture 
 indicating the same was duly inscribed upon her tomb. The real 
 story, the terrible truth, lay locked in Aunt Hetty s heart, nor 
 would it have ever been known, but for a revelation made to a 
 brother officer by Captain Philip during a carouse. It reached 
 the ears of m;my of the family, but never those of the widower. 
 The old Colonel died lamenting the loss of his young spouse, and 
 
AUXT HETTY. 65 
 
 to-day the mouldering bones lie buried between those of the two 
 wives, and upon the moae-covered headstones one may read of 
 pious and chaste lives ; but no monumeft*, humble or pretentious, 
 tells of the one heroic life of the poor slave, who carried to her 
 narrow grave the silent agony of her grief and pride. 
 
ME. BAEDOLPH BOTTLES. 
 
 NOVEL VI. 
 
 THE Hon. Bardolph Bottles I call him that because that is 
 not his name is a gentleman and 1 call him so because it is 
 polite of stout body, florid complexion, with the little mind he 
 possesses spread all over him. 
 
 By this I mean that the Hon. Bottles has his character and force 
 thereof more in his temperament than in his development of 
 brain. All men of action are more or less of this sort. All men 
 of thought are the reverse. That is, thought begets caution and 
 distrust in one. The absence of thought gives place to confidence 
 and quick action, which satisfies the masses, and makes the prompt, 
 conceited man a leader of men. 
 
 If the last named is lucky, and he is apt to be, and is solemn 
 enough, he wins a monument. " All the great monuments of earth 
 were built to solemn asses, " said the witty and eloquent Tom Corwin. 
 
 Now, Bottles is not solemn, and therefore will miss his monu 
 ment. But Bottles does not want a monument. He can tell you 
 that he does not want a monument ; if he did he would buy one, 
 for Bottles is a millionaire. He would rather use his money in the 
 purchase of Congressmen, salting of mines, organizing construction 
 companies for the building of railroads, and other processes of an 
 ingenious sort, through which money may be accumulated. 
 
 " Monuments, sir? What the blank do I want with a monu 
 ment? Monuments don t pay. What is it to old George that he 
 has a smoke-stack six hundred feet high ? They call that a monu 
 ment. I suppose it is. It is certainly not anything else. I 
 wouldn t give three dollars and thirty-seven and a half cents for it. 
 Might use it for advertising purposes. Wouldn t be a bad dodge," 
 and the Honorable Bottles will laugh until his round face gets red 
 der than ordinary. 
 
MR. BARDOLPH BOTTLES. 67 
 
 My hero began active life when quite young, as a stable boy. 
 He picked up his reading and writing as he did old clothes, and 
 worn hats and toeless shoes. As for arithmetic, it came to him, 
 as Dogberry asserted of the kindred branches, by nature, but 
 he did not thank God for it, any more than he did for his fat nose 
 and cunning disposition. 
 
 He developed into a jockey, and rode racers to win or lose, as he 
 was paid to win or lose. When grown too heavy for this, he bought 
 the stock of a failing liquor dealer. He opened a lager-beer saloon 
 at the entrance of a camp-meeting ground. The pious men who 
 established this camp of the Lord in the wilderness of sin could 
 prohibit the sale of alcoholic liquors within a mile of their tents, 
 but there was some sort of a mystery about beer that baffled all 
 their efforts. They were forced to buy out Bottles, on his own 
 terms, and Bottles was pleased with the transaction. 
 
 Bardolph used his money to purchase a billiard-room, and, back 
 of this i oom, opened a gambling resort. The young men entering 
 the gilded saloon for a game of billiards were invited back to a 
 supper, and when well stimulated with liquor were robbed under 
 a show of gambling. A few defalcations, several thefts by clerks, 
 and at last a suicide upon the premises, made the business "too 
 hot for him/ as Bottles expressed it, and he sold the billiard- 
 room and abandoned the place. The war breaking out ab lut this 
 time, Bottles, full of patriotic enthusiasm, joined the army as a 
 sutler. This was Bottles worst speculation, owing to the sudden 
 and continuous retreats of our armies that occurred, although we 
 have quite forgotten the fact, during the first two years of the war, 
 "profits did not accrue. " On the contrary, Bottles was so reduced 
 in pocket that he was forced to ask for, and secured, a commission 
 in the army. 
 
 Xow, Bardolph, unlike the warrior I have named him after, is 
 a plucky fellow, and he fought his men at all hours, on all occa 
 sions, and rose rapidly in rank. One day, when the shoeless, shirt 
 less, half starved host of rebels, und* r Lee, were falling back, leav 
 ing behind them a highway of dead and dying, Bottles made one 
 of his impetuous rushes, and got hurt by the dying tiger. A shot 
 through his shoulder lifted Bottles from his saddle, and twenty 
 
68 MR. BARDOLPIT BOTTLES. 
 
 soldiers carried him off the field, with that tender solicitude always 
 shown by, men going to the war toward a wounded comrade. 
 
 As our hero had no limbs to amputate nor a wound that would 
 justify any sort of surgical operation, he was left for the good Sis- 
 te 6 of Charity to nurse into life. 
 
 The care given Bottles by the pious sisters had a religious influ 
 ence on the man. He will to this day knock a man down who 
 dares to say aught against the Catholic Church, and he will s\vear 
 the most awful oaths to strengthen his eulogy, often uttered, of 
 the patient angels who nursed him vhile wounded. 
 
 While lying between life and death Bottles had time to gravely 
 consider his condition, and, with pious determination, resolved to 
 give up soldiering and turn his attention to cotton. 
 
 As soon as he "got on end," to use his own phraseology, he 
 bade the sisters a tender adieu, and, working his way to Washing 
 ton, so icited and obtained from Secretary Chase a permit to trade 
 beyond our lines in cotton. He was a gallant soldier, decorated 
 with an ugly wound, and had a right, therefore, to privileges. 
 
 It was Bottles great opportunity, and he seized it with avidity. 
 His experience as a sutler, and a soldier, added to his audacity, 
 made him take risks his brother dealers in cotton shrank from. 
 He found it much easier to pierce our lines with cotton than he 
 had the enemy s lines with bayonets. He came out of the business 
 with over two hundred thousand dollars in bank. 
 
 After Lee s surrender he was assigned to duty, at his own re 
 quest, in the Freedman s Bureau, and was sent South. From that 
 part of our great country he returned a United States Senator. 
 He served two terms in that solemn body, but was found inel 
 igible for a third, owing to a lien being developed by the peniten 
 tiary, from certain transactions in bonds that the State he was 
 supposed to represent considered fraudulent. How he escaped the 
 scandal of even a trial I never learned. 
 
 Eetiring from the Senate, Bardolph soon appeared as a railroad 
 operator at the South. The railroads of that region having been 
 almost destroyed by the war, my hero used his short means in buy 
 ing up, for a mere song, the more important lines, and, associating 
 with himself certain prominent Confederates, went to reconstruct- 
 
MR. BARDOLPH DOTTLES. 69 
 
 ing, well knowing that as the South recovered from her prostra 
 tion these lines would be of immense value. 
 
 Had the business been pursued honestly no one could question 
 the right to the money accumulated by the promoters. But hon 
 esty was a quality Bottles knew little of, and cared less. He took 
 the prominent Southerners in with him, as a guard against inves 
 tigation of his bond business, and to give color and popularity to 
 his ventures. It v as not long, however, before these associates 
 discovered that Bottles was making an unfair divide, and war broke 
 out. These associates were not the sort of men to trifle with, but 
 Bottles was their equal in that respect, and would have fought it 
 out, probably to a success, but for a little transaction that had oc 
 curred when Battles was Senator and yet dealing in fraudulent 
 bonds. 
 
 Once upon a time there existed in AVall Street a couple of female 
 brokers. They were lovely to look upon, and while wise as ser 
 pents were innocent as doves soiled doves. Bottles, like all of us, 
 has his weaknesses, and the elder of the lovely brokers proved 
 one of them. To his eyes she was " as pretty as a painted wagon 
 or a Missouri mule," to use his own comparisons, and he was fool 
 enough, while in Xe\v York seeking to conceal his bonds, to em 
 ploy these women. It was during an entertainment at their gor 
 geously furnished house, after my hero had probably imbibed too 
 much champagne. 
 
 Be that as it may, some time after, when sick of his brokers, 
 he had a settlement. One item in their account was $10,000. 
 He swore with a great oath, that he would allow no such swindle, 
 and a quarrel followed that cost him twenty times the $10,000 
 charged. 
 
 Tlies? gifted and gentle brokers were cats, that could sit at a 
 hole quietly a long time, for an opportunity to steal out. 
 
 The opportunity appeared when Bottles quarrelled with his 
 Southern associates. The gentle brokers were quick to sell their 
 information, and his wronged brother railroaders were able to fetch 
 the penitentiary again to the gaze of Bottles, and so force him out 
 of the enterprise. 
 
 Life is a campaign, not a battle, and has its defeats as well as. 
 
70 MR. BARDOLPH BOTTLES. 
 
 its victories. Bardolph was defeated, but not destroyed, and he 
 next turned his attention, as a great financial operator, to railroads 
 being built, at the West, on appropriations of money and land 
 grants from the Government. 
 
 Entering this great national enterprise, the ingenious mind of 
 Bottles suggested a plan through which the great national thorough 
 fare could be built by the Government, and owned by the company. 
 Organizing this last named, he immediately proceeded to create a 
 construction company out of the railroad company itself, and 
 then contracted for the construction. As the two companies 
 consisted of the same men, the contracts were extremely liberal, 
 so that the great national throughfare was made to cost twice the 
 amount necessary to build it, and after an expenditure of appro 
 priations in making the road, those ingenious gentlemen, who had 
 not expended a cent, issued to themselves evidences of indebted 
 ness, some of which were distributed through Congress where it 
 was supposed "they would do the most good." 
 
 The members caught holding this stock were investigated and 
 severely censured, but the men who succeeded in stealing some 
 eighty millions are yet unpunished, my hero, Bottles, among the 
 rest. 
 
 I was travelling West some years since, when the Honorable 
 Bottles invaded the sleeper I helped fill. Time, like Justice, had 
 dealt gently with the sutler, soldier, statesman, and r ilroad king. 
 The snow of years was sprinkling the little hair and profuse beard 
 left him. His waist had become traditionary, and his legs more 
 slender than of old, but his form was yet erect, his movements act 
 ive, his voice strong and hearty, and his eyes bright as ever. He 
 greeted me with a hearty shake and a merry laugh, as he directed 
 and aided in distributing his luggage. 
 
 He had, among other things, a huge lunch- basket and a case 
 of champagne. As the day promised to be exceedingly hot, for it 
 was in midsummer, he directed the conductor of the sleeper to 
 take the bottles fr, m the basket quietly and drop them in the 
 ice-cooler of the car. 
 
 "Why, General," I said, "you surely are not going to put 
 those dirty bottles in the water the passengers have to drink?" 
 
JIK. BARDOLPH BOTTLES. 71 
 
 " Oh, Tom can wipe them off. Wipe em off, Tom. That s 
 all right." 
 
 Tom left to execute this extraordinary order, and soon the Gen 
 eral and I were deep in reminiscences of the past, for I had known 
 him for fourteen years, in and about the national capital, and 
 always found him exceedingly entertaining. 
 
 As time wore on that morning I observed that the passengers 
 of our sleeper were exceedingly thirsty and resorted continually to 
 the cooler for water. I further observed, after a time, that the 
 women and children had flushed faces and brightened eyes, and 
 that, after a time, they grew noisy. An old lady, weighing some 
 two hundred, after a vain attempt to look at the end of her nose, 
 settled back into a sleep, with her head thrown back, that opened 
 her mouth, and not only start- d a heavy article of snore but 
 dropped a very fair article of " store teeth" in her lap. Four 
 young men, evidently commercial travellers, engaged in a game 
 of poker, grew loudly hilarious at first, then got quarrelsome, and 
 at last drew revolvers and were disarmed by the conductor and 
 brakeman, amid shrieks of the women that were unusually loud. 
 
 ( Well/ said Bottles, " this is the crankiest car I ever boarded. 
 What the blank is the matter with them anyhow ? " 
 
 The mystery was solved about roon. Bottles opened his lunch- 
 basket, and made a spread of cold quails, pickles, pate de foie gras 
 and other costly delicacies, and then sent the porter for a bottle 
 of champagne. The man returned, looking as if he had seen the 
 ghost of Guiteau. 
 
 " General," he said in a stage whisper, " dere ain t no cham 
 pagne, sah." 
 
 " Why, what s gone with it ? " 
 
 Well, you see, sah, de motion ob de cah, or ice, in de coolahs, 
 hab done broke all de bottles, and dese or nary people has been 
 diinkin youah champagne all mawnin , sah." 
 
 "Well, I be damned," said the Honorable Bottles. 
 
ABOUT LOVE AND LAW. 
 
 NOVEL VII. 
 
 " I TELL you, young gentlemen, that I once enjoyed this sort of 
 thing probably more than you do. When a young man I was 
 very much of a young man. I was impulsive, propulsive, senti 
 mental in fact, considerably troubled with the fool." 
 
 The Judge leaned back in his arm-chair, and, looking at his 
 handsome and rather hard face, it was difficult to believe, even 
 seen through a cloud of cigar smoke and a glass of champagne at 
 his elbow, that the Judge had ever been troubled with a weakness 
 of any sort. Standing at the head of his profession, he was noted 
 not only for his brilliant qualities, but his steady, unremitting 
 hard work. The speech I have put to record was made after 
 a bar supper, when a few young men gathered around him in 
 a eosey sitting-room to enjoy his sharp utterances and witty re 
 marks. 
 
 " Come, Judge, tell us about yourself at that mythical age you 
 speak of." 
 
 "Well, young gentlemen, I was admitted to the bar at the 
 town of Herat, in New England. To tell you the truth, I made the 
 closest shave ever accomplished by an idle student. Admitting 
 me to the bar under the circumstances was simply ridiculous. I 
 owed my success to old Judge Oolville, the chairman of the com 
 mittee, who said to his associates, after they had got through the 
 fatiguing process of finding how little I knew, Gentlemen, we 
 have admitted a good deal of information, with little ability, and 
 I want now to admit one possessed of much ability and no infor 
 mation/ The whimsical proposition took and I was duly com 
 missioned attorney at law and solicitor in chancery. 
 
 " The reason for this ridiculous exhibition was in the fact that 
 for nearly a year previous I had been devoting myself to a little 
 
ABOUT LOVE AND LAW. 73 
 
 widow instead of the law. I had collided on a sweet creature of a 
 blond make, relict of a departed music-master, who, dying, had 
 left his charming widow sole possessor of an old piano, worn-out 
 music-stool, and the name of Mrs. De Wiggles. She had what the 
 world would pronounce a baby face, but to me it was that of 
 an angel. She had large, dreamy blue eyes fluffy light hair, rosy 
 round cheeks, and a mouth so perfect that when her lips opened 
 and displayed the regular little ivory teeth it Appeared the pearly 
 gate of paradise. Her father was min ster of a fashionable 
 church and she sang in the choir. She had a shy, and yet 
 frank, \\ ay with her that played old Satan with all the students 
 of Herat. 
 
 " I fell madly in love with the little widow and sold my gun to 
 purchase a guitar. When not clawing at this vile instrument, I 
 was dancing attendance on my love, escorting her to church, for I 
 became extremely devout, praying earnestly to the little cherub 
 that sat up aloft that is in the choir going to lectures, pious 
 picnics ; and when not thus engaged I put in my time writing 
 love-songs and howling them out by moonlight under her window. 
 
 " The little creature favored my suit and we were engaged, 
 with an understanding that the marriage was not to come off until 
 after my admission to the bar, when a practice would enable me to 
 support my divinity. 
 
 " I nearly ruined myself in the purchase of an engagement- 
 ring for her. It was a sweet little thing, made up of a serpent 
 with its tail in its mouth, to indicate eternity, and clustered with 
 pearls, having two little diamonds for eyes. 
 
 " After securing my prize I sat down to hard work. It was too 
 late. The law is a jealous mistress, young gentlemen, and is 
 especially hostile to blue eyes, fluffy hair, and a pearly gate to par 
 adise. I toiled on in a vain endeavor to make up for lost time, 
 and got through, as I tell you, on the whim of an eccentric old 
 gentleman. 
 
 "To open an office and make a bid for business followed, 
 of course. On the score of economy I made my office and bedroom 
 one. I had a folding couch that I made up myself every morning 
 into the form of a wardrobe. At least this was the delusion I 
 
74 ABOUT LOVE AND LAW. 
 
 indulged in. It had an aggravating way, after it had been set on 
 end, of escaping the spring and coming down with a bang most 
 decidedly offensive. I think the bugs used to start that spring, 
 otherwise it must have been Satan himself, for it came down one 
 day on the only client that ever ventured into my den. 
 
 " She was a feeble old lady, and suffered so from the dead-fall 
 that I had to support her for weeks at the hospital. 
 
 " This bed, when a bed, stood across a door that led into a 
 vacant room back of my office. I give you these particulars, young 
 gentlemen, because they are necessary for a better understanding 
 of the ex raordinary case that followed. 
 
 " The course of true love never does run smooth, and mine got 
 into the rapids caused by a fat hatter before it took its tumble over 
 the precipice where it disappeared forever. This hatter, who 
 answered to the name of Amity Dodd, was an acquaintance of 
 mine, and a creditor, for I not only owed him for hats and caps, 
 but I had borrowed of him divers sums of money. He was a good- 
 natured clam on legs, \vith a bulbous termination to his back-bone 
 which resembled a pumpkin. He always reminded me of the two 
 lines in the old ballad which said : 
 
 His head being larger than common, 
 O erbalanced the rest of his fat. 
 
 " Amity Dodd played upon the flute. I never knew a clam on 
 end but what did play upon the flute. And, being thus musically 
 inclined, took it into his bulbous adipose that he would like well 
 to be acquainted with the widow, De Wiggles, and so he asked me 
 to introduce him. I could not well refuse on account of those 
 bills. I asked permission of my love, telling her at the rame time 
 that he was a poor sort of a creature, but played divinely on the 
 flute and sold hats at a great profit. 
 
 "Amity Dodd was introduced. Amity Dodd got to be very 
 intimate. At first his flute and my guitar, the widow s piano, and 
 sweet voices made up little concerts that caused the neighbors to 
 wish they were dead. After a time my guitar was dropped out, 
 and the concerts went on without me. Then the hatter got to be 
 sort of an escort at church, concerts, lectures, and when I remon- 
 
ABOUT LOVE AND LAW. 75 
 
 strated my little intended wife would laugh like a child and say, 
 Poor fat man, I feel so sorry for him/ 
 
 "One fatal afternoon I called unexpectedly upon my love, and 
 entering the parlor unannounced, as was customary, I found my 
 love in the arms of my hatter. 
 
 " I was jilted, betrayed. I felt myself destroyed and left the 
 house in a frenzy of madness which expressed itself with a slam of 
 the front door that broke the hinges, knocked out a panel, and 
 made the paternal author of the fair De Wiggles bounce out of his 
 chair under the impression that an earthquake had struck that 
 part of the town. 
 
 "Ah, me, what days and nights of desolation s nakedness fol 
 lowed that awful betrayal of my youthful affections. I fled the 
 town, lived in a gloomy way at a country farm-house on heavy 
 bread, sour milk, and soul-destroying fried bacon. When at last 
 resolved into a cynical, Byronic, cut-my-throat-at-midnight sort of 
 character I returned to find that the faithless De Wiggles was con 
 verted into Mrs. Amity Dodd. I tell you, young gentlemen, that 
 those scornful words wrought into the poetry of Locksley Hall 
 by Lord Tennyson were milk and water to the feelings of a young 
 man who finds his love captured and carried off by a low hatter 
 who plays the flute. 
 
 " I survived, however, and gradually returned to my ordinary 
 food and sleep. This sleep returned to me slowly, and many a 
 night I found it extremely difficult to escape a sense of my misfort 
 une and the music of the mosquitoes. One night I had dropped 
 into a profound sleep, and dreaming that I had converted the mis 
 erable hatter into an old smooth-bore and was firing him at the 
 perfidious widow, I was suddenly awakened by some one falling 
 upon me. Throwing up my arms instinctively, I seized a man 
 just as a revolver exploded in the room. Clutching the intruder 
 firmly by the throat, I found myself dragged into the vacant room 
 back of my office. Here a fierce tussle occurred, my assailant evi 
 dently trying to escape me, while I instinctively held to him. He 
 succeeded, however, in escaping out of my grasp through an open 
 window to a roof beyond, and as he clattered down I. heard a 
 shout, a shot, and then came a dead silence in the bright moon* 
 
76 ABOUT LOVE AND LAW. 
 
 light of the summer night. I returned to my office and bedroom, 
 struck a light, and found a revolver, with one chamber exploded, 
 lying upon the floor. The next day s papers told of a burglary 
 that had been committed upon the residence of the Rev. Mr. Tim- 
 mins, in which certain valuables belonging to Mrs. Amity Dodd 
 had been abstracted. The papers went on to say that the thief 
 had been captured after a chase over roofs, and the valuables taken 
 found upon his person. 
 
 " I laughed a scornful laugh at this circumstance, and had dis 
 missed it from my mind, when, one day, entering iny office after 
 breakfast, I found the engagement-ring I had given my late fiancee, 
 now Mrs. Am ty Dodd. 
 
 " I called up the old Irishwoman and asked where this article 
 came from. * Shure, she said, ( I found it on the floor, and put 
 it on your table. I thought, of course, the fickle woman had 
 been taken with sudden compunction and returned me my poor 
 ring. 
 
 "At the next term of court the burglar of the Dodd apart 
 ment was arraigned, with other prisoners, and having told the 
 court he was too poor to employ an attorney, Judge Colville turned 
 to a friend of mine, Brock Harrison, who had just been admitted 
 to the bar, and said : Brother Harrison, take this prisoner and 
 see him legally convicted. 
 
 "A sudden impulse seized me, and I volunteered to assist. There 
 wasn t the ghost of a chance for the fellow s acquittal. He had 
 been seen to enter the house, and when the alarm was given and the 
 police rallied he was observed stealing out. He escaped over some 
 roofs, and for a moment seemed to have got free when the re 
 port of a pistol attracted attention and the thief was c.iught coming 
 from my room with the missing valuables upon his person. His 
 stumbling over my bed, dropping his revolver that exploded as it 
 struck the floor, proved his ruin. I don t know why I did such 
 an insane thing as to interfere in this trial. But I knew that my 
 late love had to be the prosecuting witness, and a morbid desire 
 to face her, question her, and put her down with my lofty indiffer 
 ence, took possession of me. 
 
 tf On the day of the trial the court-house was crowded., and all 
 
ABOUT LOVE AND LAW. 77 
 
 the congregation of the Rev. Mr Timmins made it a point to at 
 tend. The trial began, and after the police had told how they 
 caught and captured the thief, Mrs. Amity Dodd was called to the 
 stand. My heart for a second stood still as she lifted her little 
 hand to be sworn. I mastered my emotions to see that she ap 
 peared prettier than ever, and she was just as shy, yet frank and 
 winning, as at any period of her treacherous life. At the request 
 of the prosecutor she told the story of the robbery. When through, 
 the State turned her over to me for a cross-examination, and I set 
 myself to the task. A dead silence pervaded the court-room. In 
 a low, steady voice I said : Madam, will you please tell the court 
 what those articles were that were taken on the night of the rob 
 bery ? She went over the list, and among the rest described my 
 ring. Madam, I said, do you mean to assert that this ring was 
 among the articles taken that night ? and I took the little jewel 
 from my vest-pocket and held it before her. She faltered, hesi 
 tated, and then answered : Yes. ( Is it your property ? I 
 asked. She answered in a low tone : Yes. Was it purchased 
 by you? I asked The court could just hear the word "gift* 
 gasped out. l Given you by whom ? I asked. Mrs. Amity Dodd 
 faltered out something and fell over in a dead faint. 
 
 " What is the meaning of this examination ? demanded the 
 little dried- up prosecutor. 
 
 " We were about to ask the same question/ said the Court. 
 
 " Nothing, I replied, only to show that the prosecuting 
 witness has a very unreliable memory. The ring, as we are pre 
 pared to show, has been in our possession for some time and could 
 not, therefore, have been among the articles stolen at night. 
 
 " Hold on, Bob. whispered Brock to me, you are driving 
 into trouble. Our fellow tells me he did steal that ring. 
 
 " He lies, I retorted, I gave her that ring, and she returned 
 it tome. 
 
 " Well, remarked the court, the point is immaterial ; there 
 seems to be enough of yellow jewelry to make this grand larceny. 
 Proceed with the case. Brock and the prosecutor declined argu 
 ing. Brock told me in an undertone that we hadn t a leg to stand 
 on. I became possessed of a devil, and occupied half an hour in 
 
78 KB OUT LOVE AND LAW. 
 
 addressing the jury on the unreliability of testimony offered by 
 women, children, idiots, and policemen. I was exceedingly sarcas 
 tic on females in general, and I stuck that ring under the nose of 
 the prosecutor, flourished it in the eyes of the jury, until the ring 
 got to be the most prominent feature of the case. The sensation 
 created by the fainting of the prosecuting witness was continued 
 till the close of my extraordinary speech. 
 
 " The prosecutor, a specimen Yankee run to seed, sat grim and 
 silent, and when he arose to reply had in his grim countenance an 
 expression of dry humor that soon found vent in words that were 
 first followed by smiles and then roars of laughter on the part of 
 the court-room. He began by telling of my love affair, how I was 
 led on and then jilted, and he drew a pathetic picture of my 
 blighted affections. He told how a villain of a hatter had wound 
 himself around the heart of the fair widow and crowded me out 
 into a cold, unfeeling world. He said, of course the hatter made 
 himself felt, and all true maidens and gallant swains were bound 
 to feel for me. He felt for me himself, for he had been in love, 
 had been disappointed and stunted in his growth, and had never 
 developed into the handsome manhood once promised him. 
 
 All this was uttered in the deepest solemnity and most earn 
 est manner. When a roar of laughter greeted him he would turn 
 and look upon the crowd, with an expression of amazement, which 
 seemed to say, Why this unseemly levity? 
 
 " This would be followed by yet more boisterous merriment, 
 lasting sometimes for a moment or more. 
 
 "The crowning outrage of this wretch came in on his theory of 
 defence. He claimed that, driven to madness by my wrongs, I had 
 employed this villain of a burglar to break into the hatter s matri 
 monial bower and abstract the token of my affection, which the 
 fair widow, now the wife of the skilled artisan in headgear, had 
 failed or refused to return. 
 
 " Why, gentlemen/ he cried, the burglar made a bee-line 
 from the bower across the house tops to the bedroom and office 
 of his employer, this blighted being, and then left this token of 
 former bliss in the hands of this melancholy man. That the low 
 born villain, without a particle of romance in his soul, under- 
 
ABOUT LOVE AND LAW. 79 
 
 took to do a little business on his own account, abstracting the 
 hatters watch, a silver time-piece of great value as a family heir 
 loom, the madam s hair-pins, and other valuables, is not to be 
 wondered at. It is to be be deplored that a beautiful little ro 
 mance was destroyed by this low-born villain of a burglar. 
 
 "How I got from the court- room to my office I do not know. 
 My self-possession, indeed, my mind, as the Pennsylvania!! remarked 
 at the battle of Gettysburg, was all tore up. I had scarcely time 
 to remove my hat when the place was invaded by the indignant 
 hatter. He was accompanied by his foreman, a limestone forma 
 tion, tinctured in blue and black by the dyes he handled. 
 
 " You have insulted my wife/ cried the hatter, putting hia 
 unpleasant countenance near mine. 
 
 " Of course I have/ I roared insanely, and lam glad of it. 
 She will find now what it is to lack the protection of a man., 
 
 " Hit him, boss/ exclaimed the foreman, with that self-corn* 
 posed manner always peculiar to the man who goes along as a 
 friend. The indignant hatter lifted his arms, raising his pudgy 
 fist as high above his head as he could, intending to bring it down 
 upon me with great force. 
 
 " I had not studied the noble art of self-defence for nothing, 
 and I struck my entire weight from the shoulder into his intel 
 lectual countenance, that, encountering his nose, his only guard, 
 knocked that member, having struck it, flat, and sent the hat- 
 building, flute-playing enemy prone upon the floor. The foreman 
 first picked up the hat of Irs boss, and then the boss himself. 
 While holding him in his arms, I proceeded to paint his intellect 
 ual outlook a deep red. 
 
 " Stop that ! cried the foreman, and as I did not obey, he 
 struck at me, and I proceeded at once to give him the benefit of a 
 paper-weight that brought the entire establishment to the floor. 
 Rushing out to the street, with a bang of the door behind 
 me, which had upon it a placard notifying my supposed clients 
 that I had gone to dinner and would be back in twenty minutes, 
 I unfortunately encountered the prosecuting attorney. He was 
 returning from the court accompanied by two other lawyers. 
 They were in a most hilarious mood, laughing, doubtlessly, over 
 
80 ABOUT LOVE AND LAW. 
 
 the late trial. This was too much for me, and, rushing at the 
 humorous legal luminary, I slapped his mouth ; his comical ex 
 pression of utter amazement and fright on this occasion was 
 genuine. Dropping his green bag, he turned to fly. As his rear 
 elevation presented itself to me, I administered a kick that seemed 
 to lift him from the pavement and so accelerated his flight that 
 he disappeared like magic in a tin-shop near us. 
 
 " That night I was surrounded by a gang of students singing a 
 refrain, part of which, as I remember it, ran something like this: 
 
 When first I lost my little rose, 
 
 I eased my aching heart with blows 
 
 And hit the hatter on the nose, O M riar ! 
 
 " The M riar went off into cat yells of the most exasperating 
 character. 
 
 "The journals next day were full of me. In some I was 
 treated of as an idiot ; in others as an assassin and thief. 
 
 " I should have been driven into an asylum for lunatics had it 
 not been for my old friend. Judge Colville, who came to see me. 
 
 " You have got yourself into a pretty mess, my boy/ he said, 
 and the best thing you can do is to vacate this town and go 
 West/ 
 
 "I replied humbly that I would be glad to do so had I the 
 means. He volunteered to loan me a hundred dollars, and that 
 night I left the town of Herat never to see it again." 
 
OLD SHACK. 
 
 NOVEL Till. 
 
 IT was Josh Billings, I believe, who called our attention to the 
 fact that monkeys and negroes were born old. A young monkey 
 and a negro baby have an expression of vast experience from the 
 first stage. It docs not change as the years roll by. A negro 
 retires from active life at about forty years of age, and at sixty 
 tacks on a hundred years and becomes one of Washington s body- 
 servants. There is nothing in his appearance that contradicts 
 this assumption. On the contrary, his wrinkled solemnity and 
 words of worldly wisdom go far to confirm his assumption. 
 
 I never ki,ew how old the venerable Shack was. He claimed 
 to have been my grandfather s body-servant during the Kevolu- 
 tion and through the war of 12. He could have been this and 
 not reached over a hundred when he appeared at Macochee at the 
 head of about twenty colored men, wome . , and children, escaped 
 slaves from my grandfather s farm, Federal Hall, Boone County, 
 Kentucky. My father was perfectly amazed at their appearance, 
 for slavery at Federal Hall, as he remembered it, was purely 
 nominal. The negroes worked when they felt like it, which was 
 very seldom ; and. owing to the disappearance of fences, crops 
 had come to be traditional. When Shack was remonstrated with 
 for his ungrateful conduct he replied : 
 
 "I ze got as high regard for de ole Kurnel as I ze got for 
 Gineral Washington hisself. But you see, young Mass Saunders 
 comes up and is mi ty handy \\it de whip. We goes up to the 
 ole Kurnel to monstrate, and de ole Kurnel says, says he : You 
 is a lot ob or nary niggers. You is/ says he, a burden and a 
 nuisance/ says he. I wish you d jes cl ar out/ Dat talk ob de 
 ole Kurnel jes brought de tears to my eyes, foh you see I d been 
 wit him troo all de big wahs. I nu s him when he was sick, I 
 
82 OLD SHACK. 
 
 nil s him when he was wounded ; I served him like intelligent 
 nigger all the time, and to hav him use dem language hurt de ole 
 niggers feelin s. So we jes up and said, Good by, massah, we s 
 goin . De ole massah s mighty pious man ; but, my sole, but he 
 did use some mighty profane langwidge. Den we all lifted up 
 our Ebinezers and wept. Den de ole man took his big stick wid 
 de gold head, which his regimen gib him, and he jest drove us 
 niggers out. I don t think, Massah Ben, dat ole Massah Kurnel 
 is in his proppah mind." 
 
 However indignant the old Colonel might have been to see his 
 slaves leave in broad daylight, he made no effort to reclaim them. 
 On the contrary, when my father wrote him that his negroes were 
 at Macochee, and wished to know \\ hat he should do about it, he 
 replied by post, in a letter that cost twenty -five cents, that he felt 
 very much relieved at their going, and hoped steps might be taken 
 to prevent their return, especially that old rascal Shack, who had 
 been at the bottom and cause of all the laziness, lying, and theft of , 
 the gang. 
 
 To understand and appreciate this it is only necessary to know 
 that the old Colonel, like many of the more conscientious first 
 settlers of Kentucky, was at heart an Abolitionist. His soul re 
 volted at the thought of unrequited toil on the part of these poor 
 creatures. He had attempted to treat them as free laborers, and 
 failed in the most ignominious manner. 
 
 The escaped slaves scattered and disappeared, all save old 
 Shack, who stuck to Macochee the rest of his days. 
 
 He persisted in going through the forms of work, sometimes 
 to the vexation of my father, but generally to the amusement of 
 all the family. As the body-servant of the old Colonel through 
 two wars, it was entertaining to note his sense of superiority over 
 all of us, and the care he felt for the old Colonel s dignity and 
 reputation. The old gentleman used to relate that there was but 
 one occasion when Shack forgot himself and the respect due his 
 master. That event happened when in full retreat, on horse 
 back, from the Indians, after a frightful defeat and massacre. 
 The two came upon a swamp. The Colonel, reining up his steed, 
 turned to Shack and said ; 
 
OLD SHACK. 83 
 
 "Well, Shack, what shall we do here? 
 
 " Lor bress you, massah, dis no place toconversate !" cried the 
 poor negro, driving past his master and plunging into the swamp, 
 for in the distance he heard the yells of the pursuing red men. 
 
 Fortunately, the Indians missed their trail and went off to the 
 left, leaving the Colonel to pull his servant out of the quagmire. 
 
 Much of my boyish entertainment consisted in tricks played 
 upon old Shack. He was extremely superstitious, and generally 
 attributed my doings to the active interference of Satan. 
 
 I remember once coming upon Shack in a deep snow, engaged 
 in hauling a sled-load of hickory fuel from the woods to the house. 
 He was riding one of the horses while leading the other, and so 
 engaged with the team that he passed without seeing me. I ran 
 after and got upon the load and then went to work throw 
 ing it off, a stick at a time, without his knowledge, until all was 
 gone, when I jumped off and saw the old man pull the empty 
 sled solemnly into the wood-house. A moment after I came upon 
 the scene and saw Shack regarding his empty sled with a ludicrous 
 expression of amazement no words can describe. 
 
 "What s the matter, Shack?" I asked, with assumed inno 
 cence. 
 
 " I dunno," he responded, scratching his gray wool, while great 
 beads of perspiration started from his frightened countenance. 
 " You see, I started from Hickory Hollow wid a big load, an jess 
 see you self. I gits here widout a stick." 
 
 "You old fool/ I cried, "you loaded it so badly it all fell 
 off." 
 
 "No, Massah Donn, dat ain t de way of it. When I was load 
 ing up in Hi kery Holler I ze smell somefin ." 
 
 " Smell what, Shack ? " 
 
 " Well, Massah Donn, somefin , like brimstone ; and I hear a 
 voice, low-down like, say, Shack, Shack. Shack/ tree times. Den 
 I got on dat Tom horse and got out ob dat holler mighty quick, I 
 tell ye. Den all of a sudden I hear somefin , as if dat wood was 
 agoin , and I didn t dar look round foh feah de devil take me too." 
 
 "Why, Shack, what an old liar you are ! What did the devil 
 want with your wood ? " 
 
84 OLD SHACK. 
 
 " Why to toast wid, of course. I spec he s mighty nigh out of 
 cord-wood dis winter, and dat ole hi kery berry good for dat pur 
 pose." 
 
 I am afraid I hastened the demise of this old man by the last 
 trick I played upon him before I was sent away to school. He 
 was the cause of my getting a severe thrashing, and I set about his 
 repayment. While studying up my way to do this I caught a huge 
 tom-cat, that had forsaken the ways of civilized life, in a box-trap 
 set for coons. 
 
 Now, it was in midsummer and Shack slept in a little log-cabin 
 built by himself, that had a clapboard roof. I spent nearly a day 
 getting Tom, the cat, into an old boot, head foremost, with noth 
 ing protuding from the top but Tom s stiff and indignant tail. 
 At night, in the bright light of a harvest moon, armed with a 
 stout cord, and holding to my infuriated prisoner, T softly clam 
 bered to the roof of Shack s cabin. Cautiously removing the 
 loose clapboards I made a hole immediately above the sleeping 
 body of the Revolutionary body-servant. Looking down I could 
 see the old man sound asleep in the moonlight that streamed 
 through his cabin window. I tied the end of my cord to Tom s 
 tail and let him, yowling, down upon the countenance of my enemy. 
 
 Fortunately for Shack the infuriated cat struck the head-board 
 instead of the face aimed at. The scratching and yowls awakened 
 Shack, and he arose just as I pulled Tom up for a second and more 
 accurate aim. Shack saw the cat flying, as it were, in mid-air above 
 his head, and with a wild yell of fright he rose up in time to get 
 four claws scratched through his gray wool. He fled through the 
 door towards the house, using every breath he could catch into his 
 lungs in such a yell as never had been heard since the Indians left us. 
 I hastily pulled up my cat, and cutting the cord, saw and heard it go 
 over the roof to the ground with a scratching noise that indicated 
 quite a destruction of clap-boards. Hastily descending, I sought 
 my own bed, from which I came, very like the rest of the family, 
 in wonder at old Shack s disturbance. It would have been taken 
 as a bad dream but for the old negro s scratched and bleeding 
 countenance. As it was, it remained a mystery for years, and Shack 
 to the day of his death told how "de debil come fru de roof/ and 
 
OLD SHACK. 85 
 
 every time he told the tale he added more horns, bigger eyes, and a 
 larger assortment of tales to the apparition. 
 
 Poor old Shack ! his form lies mouldering in the old graveyard, 
 and on the mossy tombstone one can yet read. " Well done, tliou 
 good and faithful servant. It is just as well we should think so. 
 Old Shack certainly did. 
 
THE SALES-LADY OF THE CITY. 
 
 NOVEL IX. 
 
 LILLIAN STUBBS, sales-lady, as she called herself, stood irres 
 olute, for a moment, behind the storm-doors of that fashionable 
 emporium known as Dunn, Dusenberry & Co. It was the hour 
 for closing, and counters were being draped and lights extin 
 guished by the many clerks, preparatory to locking up that 
 vast establishment for the night. 
 
 Well might Lillian Stubbs hesitate making her plunge into 
 outer night, for it was a cruel cold one, and a furious December 
 storm was tossing it about. Pulling the hood of her waterproof 
 closer about her head, and clutching both shawl and light rubber 
 together in front, so as to shield her thin, naked hands, she bolted 
 at last into the tumult outside. 
 
 It was an awful night. About dark, a qu ; et, well-behaved 
 snow-storm set in, and flakes like feathers fell into the murky 
 streets. Some roystering winds that were making a night of it far 
 to the north, hearing of the " beautiful snow," hurried down and 
 went to ruffling, chasing, and blowing the lovely thing to and fro 
 in the wildest glee. They did this while shaking shutters, swing 
 ing old creaking signs, and knocking venerable chimney-tops into 
 the street. They drove to shelter all citizens possessed of homes, 
 while the belated ones, or the unfortunates, were pursued and 
 buffeted with a fiendish delight that found expression in wild 
 shrieks ; and up the street and over the house-tops they would 
 sweep, meeting other winds tearing round corners and whirling into 
 each other, making lesser storms that sent up in circles snow, soot, 
 and lighter garbage far into the murky night. The gas lights on 
 the streets sputtered discouraged, like tallow-dips burned to the 
 socket. 
 
 Through this tempest Lillian Stubbs, sales-lady, struggled 
 
THE SALES-LADY OF THE CITY. 87 
 
 along. At times the winds seemed to seize and hurry her on ; at 
 others, they woul 1 smite her in front and make her fairly reel, 
 while pulverized ice mountains appeared to penetrate her thin 
 wraps, until her little white teeth fairly chattered. 
 
 Our slender heroine had gained the corner of Elm and Sixth, 
 when she unhappily stepped upon an icy gutter her feet slipped 
 from under, and she fell with cruel force upon the frozen pave 
 ment. For a second she lost consciousness, and when she recovered 
 a ftrong arm was lifting her from the ground. 
 
 "Much hurt, Miss?" asked the kind voice above the strong 
 arm. 
 
 " I guess not/ she gasped in reply. 
 
 The gas above shown clear, in spurts, upon her pale, wet face, 
 and by the same light she saw one half hid in a muffler, sur 
 mounted by a silk hat, that seemed nailed to the head, while the 
 overcoat, buttoned to the chin, was of some light-colored cloth. 
 The thought flashed through her mind, half stunned as it was, 
 that her sympathizer was a swell. 
 
 "Going far ? v again asked the voice. 
 
 " Liberty Street," she answered. 
 
 "Better take a car." 
 
 " If you please." 
 
 One of these family carriages of the people at that instant came 
 slowly jingling along. The man hailed it ; and, half carrying his 
 charge, thrust her on the platform into the crowd that thronged the 
 entrance. He elbowed and pushed his way until the girl was well 
 in, and then he paid the conductor for both. 
 
 " Get up there, will you?" he said to an old fellow comfortably 
 seated. " This gull has h:;d a tumble, and is hurt/ The aged party 
 slowly complied, and the gallant rescuer, after a searching look at 
 his charge, fought his way out, and jumped from the moving car. 
 
 The vehicle was densely crowded. Fifty people made a dead 
 weight behind the weary mules, that a brutal driver of a brutal 
 corporation was whaling along. It was hard on the mules, but kind 
 to Lillian, for the cro-.vd made the interior warm to her. Of course 
 the corporation can afford nothing but wet straw to accommodate 
 a public from which it dra^s its comfortable dividends. 
 
88 THE SALES-LADY OF THE CITY. 
 
 Lillian had four squares to walk, after she left the car, before 
 reaching home. Stiff and sore from her fall, she fairly stumbled 
 into the wretched home, and nearly fainted as she sank into a 
 chair. The house consisted of three rooms. Poverty and sickness 
 drove the family into one apartment. Want was written in dirt 
 over every part of it. It was warmed by fever and an old cook-stove. 
 A dirty, dim coal -oil lamp made privation visible. Two chil 
 dren, gaunt-eyed and ragged, were scraping an old skillet. A half- 
 grown, frowsy girl was turning slapjacks on the stove. The moth 
 er, a hard, hook-nosed creature, was doing up a bundle of overalls 
 she had but finished at the sewing-machine. On a low bed in a 
 corner was the father, evidently ill. 
 
 " What s up now, Lil ?" he asked. 
 
 "Got a fall that broke every bone in my body, and then Pm 
 frozen through and through." 
 
 " I wish I could give you a liitle of my fever. I am burning 
 up," he growled. 
 
 " I had to take a car," the girl continued, "or Pd never got 
 home." 
 
 " You did not waste money on a car?" exclaimed the mother. 
 
 "No, I didn t, for the swell that helped me up, seeing how 
 p r or I was, paid my fare." 
 
 " A swell, eh ! " cried the father. " He ll be around to get his 
 pay out uv you, an ef he does, Pll brain him wi h my hammer 
 I will." 
 
 " Don t worry yourself, dad ; I can take care of myself in a 
 poor way ; " and she went to eating, ravenously, the heavy cakes 
 her sister tossed to her, as if she were a dog. 
 
 A few days after this, Lillian was at her post near the gorgeous 
 entrance to the fashionable dry-goods store of Dunn, Dusenberry 
 & Co. She went on duty at seven in the morning and left at 
 seven in the evening. She had a rest of half an hour at noon, in 
 which to eat her miserable lunch, and, with this exception, was on 
 her feet through that long stretch ; and, when not serving custom 
 ers, was expected to be busy brushing and rearranging the goods 
 under her charge. 
 
 For this labor she received all of three dollars a week. Her 
 
THE SALES-LADY OF THE CITY. 89 
 
 mother made overalls at eighty cents a dozen, and her father, when 
 able t o work, got a dollar a day. 
 
 AVe spent a great quantity of sympathy our money and blood 
 in behalf of the negro slaves at the South, born, through untold 
 generations, to unrequited toil. We cannot see a worse slavery 
 here. The slavery that tortures in our midst has our own s nsi- 
 tive flesh and blood that are made to suffer. The negro, when 
 well, was fed, clad, and sheltered by the master ; when sick, he 
 was doctored and nursed by his owner ; when he died, the slave- 
 driver buried him. Our slaves feed, c othe, and shelter themselves; 
 when sick, they nurse and doctor themselves ; when dead, the 
 township buries and the doctors dissect the : r bodies. 
 
 Old Phmeas Dunn, of Dunn, Dusenberry & Co., came into life 
 on a doubt. Nature hesitated whether to work up certain refuse 
 material into a man or a buzzard. The stuff on hand was not good 
 enough for a human being, but was too good for a buzzard. Na 
 ture, more from whim than kind impulse, resolved in favor of 
 a man, and Pbineas Dunn was set on end, with all the cruel, 
 grasping instincts of a buzzard. Long slender, gaunt, and greedy, 
 he ha I a stereotyped smile a regular mask of a grin for his 
 customers and a real scowl for his slaves. To the one he was as 
 tyrannical as to the other he was servile and obsequious. 
 
 No one had ever seen Dusenberry, no one had ever known the 
 " Co.." a id it was a belief among the more knowing that Dusen 
 berry was dead and that old Phineas had frozen out the " Co / so 
 that the entire firm walked the i arth in the form of the venerable 
 but not venerated Dunn. 
 
 This hard old miser is not alone in his cruel oppression of 
 helpless women. He makes one of a large class and that class 
 Christian civilization calls for instant suppression. Women are 
 < mployed as clerks, not because they are efficient and therefore 
 desirable, but for that they are cheap. Women customers hate 
 female clerks, "salesladies" as they call themselves because the 
 main part of the intense satisfaction found in shopping is in the 
 chaffing that is supposed to lessen prices and effect bargains. 
 The female mind is impressed with the belief that her charms 
 can influence the male specimen on the other side of the counter. 
 
90 THE SALES-LADY OF THE CITY. 
 
 Then, again, whether profits do accrue or not, it is a mild sort 
 of flirtation that even the most sedate cannot resist. This is all 
 utterly rendered null and void with a girl for a clerk. The poetry 
 of life found in shopping is lifted from the business, and with 
 it goes all hopes of bargains. Women instinctively hate each 
 other, and when the fair customer rustles majestically along the 
 centre of the well-stored display of goods she feels as if she were an 
 honest cruiser sailing down a double row of armed enemies of a 
 piratical sort. She knows that she is being gazed on with mali 
 cious eyes, her dress mentally criticised, her movements commented 
 on, her pocket-book measured and sneered at. When she tackles 
 one of the enemy, it is with a sneer that destroys all entertainment 
 and banishes all hope of bargains. 
 
 Therefore it is that merchants accept female clerks under pro 
 test, and engage them only because they a:e cheap. The compe 
 tition that is fierce and without reason favors enslavement. For 
 one vacancy there are (wenty applicants, and price and labor no 
 consideration, and the poor creatures are abused in a way to fill 
 houses of infamy, hospitals, and graves. A man s tyranny is meas 
 ured only by his power to abuse. It is not controlled even by his 
 interest. There is something in us God knows why it should be 
 that gives a fiendish pleasure in the torture of the dependent, 
 and when to this we add the miserly i stincts of trade, we realize 
 the white slavery of helpless w men. 
 
 We have, in all cities, an army of good women devoted to charita 
 ble work. Here is work for them. Let them give the Phi 1 eas 
 Dunns to understand that they are in danger of fashionable "boy 
 cotting " unless they raise the wage : and amend their t: eatment of 
 these slaves of the yardstick. Of course this will not be done. The e 
 fashionable ladies who go abo ;t distributing stoves, coa 1 , and flan 
 nels, are animated only by a wish to see their names in prkt, asso 
 ciated with those of high social pos tion, and known as pi. blic bene 
 factors. To do anything so ra "ical and effective as what I suggest, 
 is as wild as if I were to ask them to be kind to, and conside;ate 
 of, their own ,-ervants. 
 
 Lillian Stubbs, sales-lady, ha<l one of the most trying and un 
 healthy positions in the storehouse. Near one of the doors, and al- 
 
THE SALES-LADY OF THE CITY. 91 
 
 most above a register, she got overheated from the one, and a chill 
 whenever the storm- door opened and let in a column of freezing 
 air. Her feet were frosted from exposure, in her old worn-out 
 slices, and it was only a question of time as to when she would suc 
 cumb and be carried to the hospita 1 . 
 
 Some days after her fall, she was bu^y at her post. A little 
 romance had woven itself hit spider-like existence, from her 
 shallow brain, over that incident. \Vho was it who so kindly and 
 tenderly lifted her into the car t at night? It was not Eeuben 
 Springer, for he was dead. It could not be Julius Dexter, for he 
 did not wear swell clothes. Xor v as it David Swinton ; he deals 
 only with classes. He was, evidently, a young man in gorgeous 
 apparel. 
 
 While thus her absurd mind ran on as she dusted and rear 
 ranged her goods, she noticed a man standing over the register and 
 regarding her \\ ith a puzzled expression, as if in doubt about know 
 ing her. He was a vulgar, over-dressed fellow, of about thirty-five 
 or forty, of slender yet sinewy build. He wore a plum-colored 
 overcoat, lavender kids, patent-leather shoes, and a shiny silk hat. 
 His face was pale, the expression cruel and cunning. He seemed 
 to solve his doubt, for, stepping to the counter, he said, in a soft, 
 low voice to Lillian : 
 
 " Glad you got over your fall, miss." 
 
 " It wasn t much." she responded, " but I thank you all the 
 same. I b lieve I owe you for my car-fare/" 
 
 " Xo, you don t, I was glad to help you." 
 
 Further conversat on was prevented by the approach of a 
 woman, who, touching the over-dressed good Samaritan on the arm, 
 said : 
 
 Come on ; I ve got what I want, and I m hungry. 
 
 Lillian Stubbs knowledge of man was defective. She could 
 not distinguish a vulgar fellow from a fashionable swell. But 
 when she hit her own sex she v as n:o e at home, and in the loud 
 get-up of the painted creature before her she saw a soiled dove 
 that it was her womanly duty to s one to death at all times and on 
 all occasions. 
 
 After that it was seldom Lillian walked home of an evening 
 
92 THE SALES-LADY OF THE CITY. 
 
 that she did not huve the man her companion. He had informed 
 her that his name was Clarence Fitz James Allen ; that he was the 
 son of a wealthy old duffer who had disowned him because of his 
 refusal to marry a lovely girl said paternal duffer had selected ; and 
 he spun out a dime novel about himself that Lillian accepted as 
 fact, although she felt rather than knew that the fell w was lying. 
 Like the rest of us, she believed that which she wished to believe. 
 Poor girl ! her life was hard, and so hopeless, that this little episode 
 proved too precious to be given up lightly. She felt satisfied that 
 this noble youth loved her ; and it was the first time in her dreary 
 life that love came to lift its hard realities into fairyland. 
 
 Clarence Fitz James, etc., was liberal with his money. Every 
 night he took the little shop-girl to a restaurant and ordered a 
 sumptuous repast for both. Clarence Fitz James drank sparingly, 
 and seemed anxious to get the p<>or girl to indulge. She touched 
 the beer gingerly really not liking it. But if a fourth of a glass 
 set her tongue to going more liberally than usual the lover seemed 
 delighted. He was, for some reason, deeply interested in the char 
 acter and ways of old Phineas Dunn. He listened eagerly to the 
 mean and miserly treatment of the clerks. He learned that the 
 old Shylock was too stingy and suspicious to h;.ve a watchman on 
 the inside of his store at night, but kept two employed watching the 
 premises from the outside, front and rear. He locked the store- 
 door and the storm-door himself, and put the keys in his own 
 pocket. 
 
 One night Clarence Fitz James, etc., treated h s love to seats in 
 the orchestra at the Grand Opera House. After the performance, 
 he gave her an oyster supper, and at that supper offered himself as 
 her future husband, and, being accepted, bound the engagement 
 by a large diamond ring, and then made a rather startling propo 
 sition. It was that the sales-lady, his fiancee, should procure an 
 impression on wax of the key to the storm-door of old Dunn s store. 
 He gave a rather confused and contradictory statement of why he 
 wanted this impression, but said that it was for a gent who would 
 give five hundred dollars for the impression. Clarence produced 
 from his pocket the lump of wax on which the impression was to 
 be made, and as Lillian knew where the key hung during the day, 
 
THE SALES-LADY OF THE CITY. 93 
 
 it would be easy to procure what he desired. As soon as he got 
 the five hundred, they should be married, and then he would take 
 his bride to the palace of his noble father and plead forgiveness. 
 
 Lillian Stubbs was not altogether idiotic, and she understood 
 precisely what her lover meant. But the girl was in love, and com 
 promised the iniquity by believing that her noble lover was being 
 used by some great burglar who proposed to relieve old Dunn of 
 some of his surplus stock. Her first impulse was to denounce the 
 wicked scheme and say good-by to the man who had proposed it to 
 her. But the beautiful ring glittering on her thin, hard -worked 
 hand, and a glance at the kind, anxious face the only face that 
 had ever been kind to her made her hesitate, and in the hesitation 
 she gave way, and, like many of us, compromised by accepting the 
 lump of wax, and saying she would think over it. 
 
 That night, or, rather, morning, Lillian found her parents up 
 and awaiting her return. 
 
 " Well, you trollop ! " cried the paternal Stubbs, " where have 
 you been all this night ? " 
 
 " Come, out with it/ added the mother, with yet more wrath 
 in her demand. 
 
 " I have been to the theatre with Clarence Fit z James Allen, 
 my future husband," boldly responded the girl. 
 
 " Fitz hell ! " roared the father ; "you have brought your pigs 
 to a pretty market, to be sure. Xow, hear me, girl. My brother 
 Tom, you know, is on the force, and lie has been here telling us 
 all about it ; how you ve been philanderin about with Peg Alick, 
 the well-known house-breaker and thief. What ve you got to say 
 fer yourself, you hussy? If I was able I d take a strap to you." 
 
 The poor girl was stunned ; she stammered and wept, and then 
 made a full confession of all that had occurred between her and 
 her proposed husband, not omitting the diamond ring and the offer 
 of 8500. 
 
 The father received the story in wrathful blasphemy, and 
 avowed his intentions to have the scoundrel jailed immediately. 
 The mother, however, was in deep thought. Five hundred dollars 
 appeared to her a great fortune. So, after the father had exhaust 
 ed wrath and epithets, she said : 
 
94 THE SALES-LADY OF THE CITY. 
 
 " I don t know about thus. Why not get the thief s five hun 
 dred ? Let Lil put any key on his wax, get the money, and then 
 turn him over to the police." 
 
 "Good enough ! " cried the father ; "serve him right. Do it, 
 Lil." 
 
 And Lil did as she was bidden. Clarence Fitz James, alias 
 Peg Alick, took the w^x impression tenderly, but with eagerness, 
 and, in proof of his good faith and generous impulse, thrust a roll 
 of money in the girl s hand. Poor child ! she stood forlorn amid 
 the ruins of her fairy castle, sick and indignant at the deception 
 practised upon her. 
 
 The mother s cunning did not end with the capture of Peg s 
 money. Giving her daughter fifty dollars of the treasure, she 
 locked the rest in an old bureau, and said : 
 
 " We ll go to old Dunn and tell him how we saved his store, and 
 he s bound to promote you." 
 
 To the venerable Shylock of the yardstick they went, and, in 
 an interview in his little private office, the mother told her story. 
 It was comical to note the effect it had upon him. His cold, steely 
 eyes seemed to start from his narrow forehead, while his ash-tint 
 ed face fairly mottled in pale splotches, as the revelation revealed 
 the purposed crime. When the key business was reached, he looked 
 up, with a scared expression, and hastily clutching the innocent 
 instrument, he thrust it in his pocket. When the story ended, he 
 gasped for breath, and seemed to be pumping his emotions from 
 some unknown depth. 
 
 " Great heavens ! " he cried in falsetto spurts, "have we been 
 harboring the associate of burglars ? Go away, women ! go away ! " 
 And he hurried them through the long store-room to the street, 
 looking anxiously to the right and left, lest they should pilfer some 
 valuables on their way out. 
 
 "The nasty old sneak !" exclaimed the mother, vhen the 
 two were alone ; "just to think of serving us that way, when 
 we saved him thousands ! Never mind, Lil, we have the money, 
 and we ll dress up right smart and get a better place right 
 off." 
 
 The girl was delighted with the proposition. She had seen, 
 
THE SALES-LADY OF THE CITY. 95 
 
 day after day, a gorgeous wrap offered in a show-window in Fifth 
 Street, at a very low price, and her female soul longed for its pos 
 session. To this place she led her mother. The Hebrew proprietor 
 received them with that insinuating politeness peculiar to such 
 dealers in fashionable raiment. 
 
 " Dot berline vas made vur Madame Langdry, he claimed, 
 "pon my shoal it vas. She made dot depositj ven she ordered it, 
 and den she not like it, and ve zells em vor notings." 
 
 The women, woman-like, tried to reduce this nothing, and at 
 last ended by offering one-half the price at first demanded. With 
 much protestation the dealer accepted, and Lillian counted the 
 money into his eager, and, I must say, rather dirty hands. After 
 receiving the money, which he eyed closely, he proposed giving a 
 receipt, and was gone so long the women began to wonder whether 
 the polite child of Israel could write. He returned at last, accom 
 panied by a policeman, and put the two unfortunates in custody 
 for attempting to pass counterfeit money ! 
 
 Our police, as a general thing, is a political body, developed by 
 our self-government, and is organized to influence, and, if possible, 
 control the polls, in behalf of the party calling it into existence. 
 This is its main purpose, and during its leisure moments, between 
 elections, it dabbles in arrests for crimes. Xow, a criminal may 
 commit any offence, but one, with comparative safety. If the of 
 fender is not a very stupid bungler he can always compromise the 
 crime charged by a divide with the sufferer and the police. The 
 one exception, in a list running from murder down to petit larceny, 
 is that which touches our currency. This is a serious business, and 
 the counterfeiter, or his agent in passing false money, is hunted 
 down and punished without mercy. 
 
 The mother Stubbs and her poor daughter were hurried to the 
 lockup, and the detectives, searching the hovel, found conclusive 
 proof of guilt in the $450 of miserable counterfeits concealed in the 
 old bureau. But for Uncle Tom, of the force, the two women 
 would have fallen into the hands of a shyster, and found their way 
 to the penitentiary. As it was, Tom saw the Chief of Police, and 
 the two interviewed the Judge of the Criminal Court, and the last 
 named ordered their release, retaining them only as witnesses against 
 
96 THE KALES-LADY OF THE CITY. 
 
 Peg Alick, who had been caught trying to break into the fashionable 
 emporium of Dunn, Dusenbury & Co. 
 
 Before the discharge could be effected, Lillian, worn down by 
 hard work, and suffering from shame, excitement, and exposure, 
 was attacked with fever, and carried delirious to the hospital. 
 She awakened from the delirium, but never raUied from the fever. 
 All that science could do, in the hands of skilful Doctor Murphy ; 
 all that care in nursing by the good Sisters could contribute, were 
 at the service of the poor slave of the yardstick. 
 
 They came too late. She was down with a disease that baffled 
 medicine that might be called a malignant attack of Dunn, Du 
 senbury & Co. She, who had sweated under a heat of summer 
 that marked 90 in the shade, and scurried on, with wet feet and 
 frozen body, through the storms of winter, to her twelve hours 
 daily toil, unnoticed and almost unknown, had, when unavailable, 
 all the care and skill that are given the most fortunate. 
 
 Poor little homely wretch ! There was not much of the heroic 
 in her, but it was pitiable to see this great brute of a world sacri 
 ficing her miserable life to its selfish greed. Hour after hour, 
 fever wasted her form, and death stamped his seal upon her ashy, 
 pinched face, as, with half-closed eyes, she heard the subdued roar 
 of the great traffic pounding along the stony horror of the boul- 
 dered streets, under which she had gone down to death. And, 
 while dying in that warm, but bare and painfully clean ward, how 
 many thousands of her sisters were struggling in the winter s cold 
 for a bare subsistence ; how many thousands, driven on by 
 starvation, were giving their homeless bodies to beastly gratification 
 of men s lust. " Holy Mary, mother of God ! " when will the 
 crucifixion end? From the killing of Our Saviour, we go on, 
 through the ages, torturing, debasing, and destroying those from 
 whose class come our mothers, sisters, and daughters. 
 
 The dimmed rays of a wintry sun shone through a curtainless 
 window, in its setting, upon the still couch that a good sister ap 
 proached softly, in prayer, to close the glazed eyes and fold meekly 
 upon the sunken breast the thin hands of the Dead Slave. Upon 
 one finger yet shone the Mock Diamoi d, that gleamed like a mock 
 light from our decayed, Christian civilization, 
 
MONTEZUMA HAWKINS, REFORMER. 
 
 NOVEL X. 
 
 MONTEZUMA HAWKINS, Friend of Man, sat at his noon-day 
 meal. The room in which this banquet was held indicated ex 
 treme economy or privation in its occupant. The ceiling was low, 
 and not much of it. It started some seven feet from the floor, ran 
 parallel for half the width of the room, and then seemed to get dis 
 couraged and fell away rapidly until but two feet made its sup 
 porting wall at the other end. One window on that side, of small 
 dimensions, let in the light to exhibit the furniture that was neither 
 choice, rare, nor antique. A cot, thrust into one corner, met the 
 descend ng ceiling on one side, and held a mattress of straw that 
 once, in its early youth, seemed stuffed with grasshoppers, but had 
 evidently given up its young elasticity, and was as hard as the 
 heart of an alderman. The bed-clothes indicated former circum 
 stances of cleanliness, while the pillow was of that diminutive sort 
 that looked as if the sleeper had to hold on with both hands to 
 keep it from slipping up his nose or disappearing in an ear. A 
 pine table and three chairs, if not strangers to each other, of that 
 various make that indicated second-hand auction-rooms, when the 
 drift of poverty gathers in a great city. 
 
 Montezuma Hawkins* banquet was in keeping with his sur 
 roundings, and consisted of a section of bologna sausage that com 
 pound of red flannel, pepper, and pork a sandwich, so called, be 
 cause of the thin slice of dyspepsia held between two heavy layers 
 of in igestion, and water nicely warmed by the summer air in a 
 brown stone pitcher. 
 
 The proprietor of this apartment, and the consumer of this ban 
 quet, ate rapidly, ami as he did so. he quite as eagerly turned over 
 the leaves and road from a book that he held in hi* left hand, 
 while he helped himself to food with his right, 
 
98 MONTEZUMA HAWKINS, REFORMER. 
 
 No artist would select Montezuma Hawkins as a model for an 
 Apollo. Reappeared to be about twenty-eight or thirty years of 
 age, and he ran to length, without the proportionate breadth and 
 thickness. His front and rear elevations, as an architect would 
 say, suggested the Washington monument. His legs were long 
 and slender ; his body was long and flat ; his face long and sallow. 
 His black hair fell in straight locks from his high, narrow head. 
 His features were in keeping, the more pronounced of them being 
 a nose not prominent, but of unusual length, with a slight eleva 
 tion at the end, indicative of an inquiring mind. The eyes were 
 prominent, dark, and rather handsome, while his mouth and chin 
 exhibited more sensitiveness than strength. In his movements, that 
 were restless, eager, and anxious, Montezuma Hawkins, Friend of 
 Man, struck a close observer as the embodiment of a fever set on 
 end and endowed with great activity. 
 
 Finishing his repast with a drop from the brown pitcher, he 
 took from his pocket a brierwood pipe, filled it with tobacco from 
 another pocket, and, giving a hasty glance at the sunlight creeping 
 in at the one window, he continued his eager reading of the book. 
 In this he was interrupted by a heavy knock upon the door, and, 
 before he could say " Come in," it was thrown open with a bang, 
 and three men entered. They were men of red faces and rough 
 clothes. Montezuma exhibited no surprise at this unexpected intru 
 sion. He nodded familiarly to them, and they nodded in return. 
 Two possessed themselves of the rickety chairs, while the third 
 seated himself upon the table. 
 
 " What s up ? " asked the host, continuing to smoke and look 
 ing up reluctantly from his book. 
 
 " Notice to tend a meetin of delegations at the Brown Jug to 
 night, to consider what s got to be done in the comin elections/ 
 was the reply from the man on the table. 
 
 " That means chin music and beer. Won t go." 
 
 " Now look here, Monty/ said the man ; " you set up to be a 
 reformer, and you don t reform worth a cent. When we buckle 
 down to the collar, you re in the britchin ; when we re in the 
 britchin , you re strainin at the collar. What s the good of 
 that?" 
 
MONTEZUMA HAWK1XS, REFORMER. 99 
 
 " I give it up," replied Hawkins ; " I am tired of it. No two 
 of you agree ou anything but beer and talk. There s no good, 
 Jim Brice, in that. I don t want beer, and I m too busy for idle 
 talk." 
 
 " There s goin to be something done this time," continued 
 Brice, "and don t you forget it. But you will, and be sorry for 
 it ef you don t come." 
 
 " I ll think about it. Xow I must go. Time s up, fellows ; 
 good day ; " and so the visitors and the visited walked out to 
 gether. Descending the three flights of steep stairs, and gain 
 ing the street, Jim Brice said : 
 
 "Take a nip, Monty?" 
 
 " Xever nip, Jim." And he strode away as the three turned in 
 at the nearest lager-beer saloon. 
 
 The three men were political agitators and lived mainly on the 
 agitation. Professing to represent the labor movements, they 
 really made three of a large army who had no more to do with the 
 sons of toil than they had with the Apostles. Hawkins had a 
 contempt for them he did not even care to conceal. It was, there 
 fore, through accident that he attended the meeting. 
 
 The casualty came about in this way : 
 
 There was a girl, daughter of a widow, in straitened circum 
 stances, very lovely and quite accomplished, who had won the 
 heart of our hero. Clara Callan had bloomed into womanhood, 
 amid commonplace and base surroundings ; but her beauty was not 
 as much above the humble life to which she had been born as 
 were her educational attainments. An only child, the poor wido.w 
 had starved over scanty food and shivered under scant apparel, to 
 keep her daughter well clad, and at school. The little girl re 
 sponded admirably to the demand, and became and continued the 
 envy of her classmates at the free school, and the pride of her 
 teachers. 
 
 This had come to an end, and the poor girl found herself 
 graduated into a position not provided for, to be either comfort 
 able or pleasant. Too well educated and refined for a servant, she 
 was without the means to live as a lady ; and, looking down upon 
 the associates poverty furnished, she was shut out from the more 
 
100 MONTEZUMA HAWKINS, REFORMER. 
 
 fortunate who could wait in idleness for the husbands to support 
 them. 
 
 While in this state of discontent, she made the acquaintance of 
 Montezuma Hawkins. The son of a drunken bookbinder, the boy 
 had been brought up to the same work, and seemed born to be as 
 sober and industrious as his unfortunate father had been idle and 
 dissipated. At the time I introduce him, he was the sole support 
 of a widowed mother and two maiden sisters, older than himself. 
 Through these sisters be came to know Clara, and was soon her 
 devoted lover. An enthusiast and hard student, the bookbinder 
 gave her some intellectual life, and was a relief to the dull com 
 monplace of her pinched and dreary existence. 
 
 The young man s dreams of labor reform and the future eleva 
 tion of his class through his own exertions, were not only stimu 
 lated by his passion, but his hard, rough nature was softened by 
 his love. Dogmatic, impatient, and irritable as he was with his 
 fellow-laborers, he was strangely kind and modest in the presence 
 of this, to him, angel, whose beautiful nature was to be the sun 
 light of his life. 
 
 On the evening I speak of, he had dressed with the usual care 
 for such visits, and went to call upon her. She was not at home, 
 and from lack of aught else to do he dropped in at the Brown Jug. 
 To his surprise, he found the place crowded not only by the rough 
 element common to such places, but on all sides by brother work 
 men from different associations of organized labor. He soon 
 learned that the matter under consideration was the nomination of 
 an independent ticket for the approaching election. 
 
 This project of making labor felt at the polls had been long a 
 favorite with our hero ; but every effort, in which he was aided by 
 a few earnest radicals, had proved a failure, and every year he saw 
 with disgust his fellow-workmen fighting on one side or the other 
 of contests that had in reality nothing at issue of interest to his 
 class. He gave up at last in despair. 
 
 The fact is, Montezuma Hawkins, like every other eelf-made 
 man, had many disagreeable qualities that he took no pains to 
 conceal. His intense egotism, when opposed, found expression in 
 biting sarcasm ; and if pressed further than his short allowance of 
 
MONTEZUMA HAWKINS, REFORMER. 101 
 
 patience, he would fiercely ride down, as it were, his opponent. 
 Nothing but his purity of character, deep earnestness, and, above 
 all, his power to think aloud on his legs that his crowd sneered 
 at as " gab " and yet admired made him tolerated at all. He 
 was greeted from all sides as " Monty," but seldom invited to join 
 any one at the bar, and seemed, as he was, indeed, something 
 separate and apart from the crowd. The men who called him 
 "Monty" to his face, styled him " hog " after he passed. Haw 
 kins, in fact, reciprocated the feeling. He had no confidence in 
 the crowd about him, and soon withdrew, seeking his solitary den 
 to read, far into the night, Henry George s fascinating book on 
 land reform, "Progress and Poverty." 
 
 While the noisy, half-intoxicated crew were discussing the 
 proposed movement at the Brown Jug, quite another sort of an 
 assembly had the same subject before it in a room at a fashionable 
 hotel. Instead of rough workmen, or representatives of the bum 
 mer element this collection was composed of the so-called "gen 
 tlemen," w r hose clothes and conduct indicated that they owned 
 something beside themselves, and were easy in their ownership. 
 
 (i I tell you," said a man of some sixty years, whose bald head 
 shone in the gaslight like a billiard ball, " the Democrats are cut 
 ting into us like the devil with the Prohibitionists, and unless we 
 can counter in a labor movement, we may as well hang up the 
 fiddle and the bow." 
 
 "I know that," responded a younger man, "and we ve been 
 trying to start it, but it won t start." 
 
 " These paper-caps have been fooled so often," remarked 
 another, "that they are suspicious and indifferent. They won t 
 listen any longer to the old spavined hacks we have been using." 
 
 " Can t we find a new leader?" asked the first speaker. 
 
 "I know of one," said a tall, tliin-visaged man, " if we could 
 only bag him. He is quite young, lives in a garret on bread and 
 water, and wears clothes scarcely decent, certain! v not comfort 
 able, that he may support an old mother and two sisters." 
 
 "Such a fellow is no good/ chimed in one. 
 
 "I don t know about that," said the thin man. I happened 
 to hear him one night at a free library meeting we got up for 
 
102 3LOXTLZUMA HAWKINS, REFORMER. 
 
 workingmen. lie has the most wonderful voice and remarkable 
 flow of words I ever listened to. But how to capture him is the 
 question." 
 
 "Money?" suggested one. 
 
 "Won t work. It would be dangerous to try it. He s jusfc 
 the sort of a crank to howl over the attempt on his virtue. Yet 
 every man has his price. I have been thinking of this and study 
 ing the fellow. I think I see the way to his capture." 
 
 " What is it ? 
 
 * There is a devilish pretty girl who, with her mother, lives 
 in a tenement- house of mine. He is sweet on that girl." 
 
 " Don t sec it," said the bald-headed man, helping himself to 
 a glass of wine. 
 
 "That s a pity/ 7 dry y remarked the cadaverous plotter ; "but 
 I bel.eve I do. Harry McLain, are you willing to put yourself at 
 the head of the labor movement ? 
 
 "I?" responded the handsome young man thus addressed, 
 " What do you mean?" 
 
 " Come out as an independent for Congress on the noble work- 
 ingman s ticket. Your late affiliation with the Democracy will 
 make it consist." 
 
 "Go whooping around with a lot of greasy mechanics? No, I 
 thank you." 
 
 " The main run of voters are greasy, my boy, let them be Re 
 publican or Democratic. They are all alike in that respect, as 
 they are all alike when it comes to what they call principles. We 
 furnish the money, the greasy fellows the votes. It won t do to 
 be nice.* 
 
 "Don t take it," said the young man. I don t know any 
 thing about their rot. I shouldn t be able to utter a sentence of 
 if 
 
 "It is easier picked up than our rot, my boy. You ll get in 
 terested in it when you come to consider the subject. You may 
 think it strange, but all the brain of the country is enlisted on 
 that side. If the fellows had a press, an organization, and some 
 money, they would move our bowels, I can tell you." 
 
 A lengthy discussion followed, that held these politicians to- 
 
MOXTEZUMA HAWKIM3, REFORMER. 103 
 
 gether far past midnight. It was determined, at last, that young 
 McLain should be put forward as the independent candidate, and 
 his thin, Cassius-like companion undertook his guidance. 
 
 Harry McLain was " human, handsome, and liable to debt." 
 His principal business in life seemed to be immediate dissipation 
 of the fortune his overworked father had left him. He had dabbled 
 in politics, for the sake of the excitement, and after a trial of the 
 Democracy turned over to the Republicans, incurring thereby a 
 character for inconsistency that no serious people will tolerate. 
 One may change his opinions frequently as he will, he may avo v 
 any, or live upon none, provided he votes the ticket of his partv. 
 To vote the ticket is like paying church dues. It is the sanctifica- 
 tion of faith and good works. 
 
 Xot long after the independent movement had been determined 
 on, Montezuma Hawkins and his betrothe 1 were walking in the 
 park. It was the one source of enjoyment they could afford It 
 was something more than enjoyment to the young man. He was 
 deeply in love with his Clara, and every moment in her society was 
 an hour of heaven. Along the dreary pathway of life the softened 
 sunlight fell through the roseate atmosphere, and flowers bloomed 
 and sweet birds sang, as flowers and birds never bloomed nor sang 
 before. It was a strange thing to see this elongated piece of ani 
 mated egotism, this embodiment of sarcasm and ill-temper, this 
 fierce reformer gazing at this girl, with all the wistful humility of 
 a dog, living on her slightest word and eager to obey her slightest 
 wish. 
 
 It was more than stranee, it was pitiable, when we know that, 
 with all his awkward ways and disagreeab e self-assertion, he had 
 a delicate brain in his head, and a deep, earnest, sensitive heart 
 in his bosom. Of neither did the little girl have the slightest 
 knowledge, or indeed care. 
 
 On the day to which I refer, Monty had been promoted to fore 
 man in his shop, and, with the increased wages, he thought he 
 might venture to marry, provided his bride consented to share the 
 house with his mother and sisters. 
 
 " That is all very good of you, Monty, dear," she said, when the 
 plan was first proposed; "but what will become of my poor mother ? " 
 
104 MONTEZUA1A {IAWKINS, REFORMER. 
 
 Monty knew that the poor mother, so lovingly referred to, had 
 been running a sewing-machine for many years, so that her daugh 
 ter could be kept at school ; and he knew that to take the daugh 
 ter off her hands would be a relief. To undertake the support of 
 the mother would be to leave his own out in the cold. 
 
 "We can get rooms of our own, Clara, if you say so." he 
 pleaded; " but then they will not be so well furnished, for I must 
 continue my support of mother and the girls." 
 
 "Oh, Monty, do be more patient!" she cried. "We must 
 wait a while longer; something will turn up one of these days. We 
 won t always be so poor." 
 
 The young man shook his head and sighed. lie felt that 
 his ardent advances had been coldly received, and that his good 
 fortune, found in tlr* promotion, was treated with indifference. 
 
 " Monty dear," she said, after a long silence, "why don t you 
 make more speeches ? " 
 
 "Speeches?" 
 
 "Yes I said that. You make beautiful speeches. lam so 
 proud of you, standing up making the crowd cheer and applaud. 
 I do wish you would." 
 
 The unexpected interest shown in him by this angel of light 
 and graco sent a thrill through him that made him gasp almost. 
 Poor fellow! he did not know that it was the whisper of the devil, 
 sent through his love. lie was delighted, yet he responded, after 
 a pause: "I d like to please you, Clara, but there s nothing in it. 
 I am beset every day by fellows urging me to take the stump for 
 the Independents." 
 
 "Oh, do, Monty ! I wish you would; I wish you would, for 
 me." 
 
 This was an unexpected interest in a subject never before in 
 dulged in, and Monty, looking at her surprised, asked what on 
 earth had given her such a liking for politics. 
 
 "Oh, I don t know !" she replied. "Yes, I do. A friend 
 told me that if you d come out, it would be a great success." 
 
 "What friend is so complimentary of my poor powers?" he 
 asked. 
 
 She colored, stammered, and then said that it was her mother. 
 
MONTEZUMA HAWKINS, REFORMER. 105 
 
 "No," she added, " it was not mother. It makes no odds who 
 it was. I want you to make the speeches." 
 
 "I will, if you wish, " he replied. 
 
 She actually kissed him for his compliance, and the kiss 
 sealed the compact. That night he reported at the headquarters 
 of the Independents, and was almost immediately launched in the 
 canvass. 
 
 The display of vitality exhibited by the noble working men in 
 this contest was unparalleled. 1 he headquarters were thronged, 
 the night air poisoned by torchlights of processions. Brass bands 
 stunned the ears, while at stands erected in the open air meetings 
 were held, t ) which came the torchlight processions, and from 
 which, night after night, the Hon. Harry McLain and Montezuma 
 Hawkins, workman, as he was styled, i eld forth, on the wrongs 
 of the toiling millions. Of the t\vo orators, our friend Monty was 
 far the more popular. As a mere deolaimer. he was the best I 
 ever hear t. His clear, sweet voice was equalled by his happy fa 
 cility of expression, in which the choicest words seemed to fit in 
 and flow out on tue sentences, as if a great composer had inspired 
 a great piece of music. The crowds responded with cheers to his 
 impassioned appeals. And, really, to those who knew him pe - 
 sonally. it was remarkable how he changed in appearance when 
 under the spell of his own inspiratio . His sallow face flushed, 
 his dark eyes gleame ! , while his gesticulations were not only ap 
 propriate but graceful. 
 
 He was soon carried a ong by the excitement he aided in creat 
 ing, and what began in a wish to gratify the girl he loved, soon 
 passed to an earnest and intense belief in his effort. He first 
 neglected, and then quite ahandone , his workshop, for the pro 
 prietor happened to be a Democrat, and was quick to reseat 
 a movement calculated to de eat his party. During the day Haw 
 kins was busy preparing and mailing documents ; at night he was 
 either on the stand addressing crowds in the open air. or visiting 
 lodges and unions, where he urged all his fellow-laborers to take 
 part in the good cause. 
 
 The labor movement represented, of course, only one fourth of 
 the conflict going on. Three other parties were as busily at 
 
106 MONTEZUMA HAWKINS, REFORMER. 
 
 work, and had our oratorical friend been less carried away by his 
 zeal, and given closer attention to what other cool lookers-on saw, 
 he might have found a difficulty in separating the torchlight pro 
 cessions of the Democrats from their own ; and a Prohibitionist 
 would as well have seen in amazement the Democrats and Tem 
 perance men so mixed at the meetings as not to be distinguished. 
 One fact Hawkins did observe and puzzle over that was the lib 
 eral expenditure of money. Some one, or ones were paying for 
 the long processions, fireworks, and free bars of lager-beer saloons. 
 Hawkins got no solution to the mystery, nor did he make much 
 effort in that direction. Our Roman virtue softens in the light of 
 our own desires. If the enemy was furnishing means to further 
 their own destruction, Heaven forbid that they should be even 
 discouraged, let alone exposed. 
 
 Hawkins fame as an orator spread, and men and women who 
 cared nothing for the cause gathered about the stand to hear the 
 silver-tongued advocate. It was common for the Hon. Harry Mc- 
 Lain to open with a neat speech, made up mainly of solemn com 
 monplace. Afterward, Montezuma would address the crowd for 
 an hour or an hour and a half. The audience never seemed to 
 weary of his declamation, that was lit by flashes of sarcasm that 
 brought out hearty responses of laughter and cheers. 
 
 The orator knew that Clara was among the listeners, and the 
 knowledge inspired him. After a time he missed Iier sweet, 
 upturned face, and became to notice that his honorable associate 
 also disappeared from the platform and \\as seen no more that 
 night. He did not, however, connect the two facts. 
 
 Election day came and the vote was heavy ; it almost equalled 
 that of a Presidential contest. That night, Montezuma observed. 
 much to his surprise, that while the Democratic and Republican 
 headquarters were crowded with eager, noisy people, his own were 
 almost deserted. A few stupid cranks alone hung about the 
 tables, and got no returns. The fact was, that the Prohibition 
 rendezvous was in about the same condition. Finding that he 
 could get no returns at either place, he hurried to the Republican 
 headquarters. They were coming in freely, and full statements 
 were given of Democratic and Republican votes, hut few or none 
 
MOXTEZUMA HAIVKIXS, REFORMER. 107 
 
 of the Independent ticket. While wondering at this, he encoun 
 tered his own boss of the bookbindery where he was employed. 
 
 "Well, Monty/ he said, wrathfully, "I spose you made 
 enough to do without work, laboring for those thieves. Anyway, 
 I don t want you any more." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " demanded Hawkins. 
 
 " Oh ! don t play innocence, damn you ; it won t go down," 
 and the man turned his back upon him. 
 
 Monteznma soon had confirmation of the fact asserted. He 
 was congratulated on all sides by half-drunken politicians for his 
 success in fooling the Democracy. He awakened to the dismal 
 fact that he had been sold by the very class he had sought to de 
 stroy. The choicest efforts of his brain, the noblest impulses of 
 his heart, had baited a vulgar trap, and he had been the ridiculous 
 victim of a miserable cheat that all saw but the victim. 
 
 Weary of body and sick at heart, the poor fellow wended his 
 way along the fashionable street to his humble garret. Feeling 
 his humiliation and shame, he fairly shrunk into the shadows of 
 the lofty houses all aglare with light. All was lost to him but one 
 sweet hope, that in this dark hour seemed his resurrection and his 
 life. Above the dark cloud of adversity shone, like a star in a 
 space of blue heaven, the face of Clara, his love. After all, what 
 was the worth of these shadows with such a consolation ? 
 
 At the moment this thought shot through his frame and lifted 
 his manhood into his better self-respect, while he was saving to 
 himself, "In all this world I have but one who believes in and 
 loves me, but that one is an angel worth them all/ he happened 
 to look up and into a plate-glass \\indow of a fashionable restau 
 rant. He started as if a wave of electricity had been shot into 
 him. At a little table, laughing and eating, he saw two people. 
 One was unmistakably his friend and brother-orator, Harry McLain, 
 
 but the other . A mist came upon the poor fellow s eyes, 
 
 and, amid the falling sleet for winter had suddenly come upon 
 the town he staggered against a lamp-post and stared as if dis 
 traught. It was the face of Clara his Clara, his love ! But, oh, 
 how changed ! Rich feathers fell over her lovely face, costly 
 jewelry adorned the white column of her neck, a rich dress partly 
 
108 MONTEZUMA HAWKINS, REFORMER. 
 
 exposed the snowy precipice of her dazzling shoulders ; and she 
 gazed with those soft, dreamy eyes on this man as she had never 
 looked upon the poor bookbinder. Great God ! what a revelation 
 and revolution ! 
 
 How poor Montezuma got to his garret he could not have told 
 himself. He did get there. Lighting his lamp with mechanical 
 impulse and precision, he set it upon the table, and, taking a key 
 from his pocket, unlocked and opened an old box. From tlas he 
 took a package of notes and letters. Well worn they were, those 
 oft-read missives. Then he picked out some little womanly pres 
 ents poor in material, but delicately wrought by female fingers, 
 that seemed to weave in the threads the tenderest affections of the 
 worker. For nearly an hour he sat with these things in his trem 
 bling hands, and gazed upon them with a dead, stony expression 
 that was pitiable. He was too strong to weep, too weak to kill. His 
 neck was slender, and the base of his skull was not rounded out 
 with those animal passions that make the man feared. And so, 
 between the two, he suffered an agony that would have made that 
 of the cross itself a lesser punishment. 
 
 Rising wearily at last, he left his room without extinguishing 
 the lamp, and strode on through the night and the storm to the 
 house occupied by Clara. Ascending two flights of stairs, he 
 paused upon the landing, and shrunk into one corner, where, 
 crouching down, he could remain concealed. He knew instinc 
 tively that Clara had been taken to some place of amusement, and 
 shuddered with horror, not with cold, at the thought of how 
 much longer than the play would take he would have to wait her 
 return. 
 
 Hour after hour went slowly by. He heard the noises of the 
 street die out, and ever and anon some people, in groups or 
 singly, would come up the steps and pass him. Once a female 
 garment swept across his knees, and he heard doors open and shut 
 as the lodgers of the building sought their rooms. At last, away 
 past midnight, he heard wheels rattle up and stop at the entrance 
 below. There was a gleam of light, his quick ear caught the low 
 uttered " Good-night," and then the light, well-remembered step 
 upon the stairs. 
 
MONTEZUAIA HAWKIXS, REFORMER. 109 
 
 It was Clara. She paused on the landing, without seeing him 
 of course, and opened the door with a night-latch, that she handled 
 so delicately that she had entered before he was aware. Fortu 
 nately she left the door ajar, and he noiselessly followed. She, 
 dexterously striking a match, lit a lamp, and the haggard, love- 
 stricken man stood before her. Her clamped teeth caught the 
 scream her heart sent up, and she seized a chair-back to keep 
 from falling. 
 
 "Oh, Monty!" she exclaimed, in an undertone, " how you 
 frightened me ! " 
 
 " Clara ! " he said. His low, sweet voice seemed to thrill through 
 her, as he touched the rich sealskin sacque that had partly fallen 
 from her shoulder. " I don t ask whore you got this livery of hell. 
 I have only to say that, in getting it, you walk over the body of 
 the one honest man who loves you better than life. " 
 
 The girl s face flushed and then paled, showing out in painful 
 contrast the rouge upon her cheeks. Then she wailed piteously, 
 as the tears started from her eyes : 
 
 " Monty, Monty ! don t be hard on me. I could not help it." 
 
 " Oh, no," he responded bitterly; " you would rather be a rich 
 man s mistress than a poor man s wife." 
 
 " Don t be hard on me ! don t be hard on me ! I pity you, 
 Monty and, oh ! God, I pity myself. But, Monty, I would have 
 been only a burden to you.* 
 
 And the tears streamed from her eyes. 
 
 "Clara," he said, taking her hand, "come to me yet come 
 now. I love you, Clara. I never knew till this hour how much 
 I love you. Now don t don t say anything. Wait, think you 
 hold my life in your little hands. That man don t love yon. We 
 will forget him." And no dumb creature begging for its life ever 
 put in an eager face such a piteous expression of appeal. 
 
 I am sorry to write of the miserable condition of my po r hero. 
 I am p. lined to add that his crawling humility was met, on the 
 part of the girl, with a feeling of disgust and aversion. Had he 
 g- ne out and killed the betrayer ; had he even flung her tokens 
 and gifts in her faco, as he had intended, he would have stood a 
 oetter chance for the wicked and ruined love he solicited. Clara 
 
110 MONTEZUMA HAWKINS, REFORMER. 
 
 crowded down her disgust, and, woman-like, threw a grace over 
 her refusal. 
 
 " Monty/ she said, " I love you too well to listen, I can de 
 grade myself; I cannot degrade my husband for that is what you 
 mean. Monty, let us submit. We are, as you have said night 
 after night, the slaves you to your unrequited toil ; I to my 
 shame. They own us, Monty ; they own us." 
 
 I cannot dwell on this scene. He begged, poor fellow, on his 
 knees, and the more he grovelled and debased himself, the firmer 
 she grew. Poets have sung of the generous, self-sacrificing quality 
 of love. It is a lie. There is no more cruel, selfish, and implaca 
 ble passion given humanity. Love of the handsome Harry Me Lain 
 made Clara a beast, and sent her old lover down to death, and she 
 knew it. 
 
 Let me make a finish of the little left. Two days after this 
 parting the horror stricken mot erand sist rsof poor Monty found 
 his body in a kneeling position in his garret, one end of his sus 
 penders around his neck and the other tied to a hook in the wall. 
 The sisters saw through their tears, in the suspenders that served 
 as a rope, a gift worked by the fair fingers of Clara Callan. 
 
Ill 
 
 THE WHARF-RAT. 
 
 NOVEL XI. 
 
 ONCE upon a time a slender little street Arab, without par 
 ents and of course without a home, who sold papers in the morning 
 and polished shoes in the afternoon, found on an abandoned piece 
 of a raft an old barrel that he converted into a bedroom. By shift 
 ing the open end of his apartment to the leeward of cold nights, 
 and covering himself well with shavings and straw, the poor boy 
 slept the sleep of peace and innocence. The rain pattering upon 
 his barrel and the dashing waves of the great river only lulled his 
 slumbers to a deeper rest : and, although he did not thank God 
 for his shelter for the waif was untaught he had about the same 
 sense of thanksgiving that a bird or houseless dog might have on 
 finding a safe retreat from harm. 
 
 The river on which the lad rested had extremes of high and 
 low water. In midsummer his old wreck was high and dry on a 
 sandbar ; in spring and autumn it rode upon the waves. One 
 morning, in an unusual flood, the old rotting structure broke away, 
 and, with its sleeping occupant, swept out into the stream. That 
 part of the little fellow, common to all of us, that never sleeps, 
 wakened him, and at first he was somewhat startled to find himself 
 and his home on the highway to New Orleans. 
 
 He was however a born wharf-rat, and knew that he could 
 plunge in and swim ashore, let the shore be ever so far ; but he 
 mourned the loss of his home. Like a self-reliant, plucky little 
 chap as he was, he determined to cling to his possessions to the 
 last moment of hope ; and, so resolving, he sat down and gazed 
 about him. 
 
 He gazed as well as he could, for it was yet night. The long, 
 heavy rain-storm had passed. The stars were bright, shining 
 through the purified atmosphere ; and from either bank the high 
 
112 THE WHARF-RAT. 
 
 chimneys of manufactories vomited red flames that shone in paths 
 on the river, dazzling the eyes in places, and leaving all else in a 
 deeper gloom. The lad sat and shivered in the cold, wondering 
 much what next would happen. 
 
 He was not left long in doubt. Suddenly a huge mass, with 
 gleaming open furnaces and a roar like distant thunder, bore to 
 ward him. It was a steamboat, and was coming so directly upon 
 him that the lad made ready to plunge and swim for his life ; but 
 while, with a coolness his career of self reliance had taught him, 
 he hesitated, in order to select the side for his swim, so as to avoid 
 the wheel, he realized somehow that the steamer was rounding to 
 for a landing. This saved the little raft, and, although it was 
 tossed wildly in the wake of the steamboat, the lad clung to his 
 old home. 
 
 While doing so, and almost under the towering side of the steam 
 er, he heard something fall, splashing, into the water. This might 
 be a stick of wood or a bucket of slops that disturbed the waves, 
 and the lad settled himself to looking again at this dark uncertainty 
 in the face. The waves of the steamer had floated his frail struct 
 ure out into the stream, and our little hero became aware of the 
 fact that he was making one of a string of strange articles being 
 carried along by the flood. In the deepening gloom, for he had 
 passed the furnaces that lined the bank, he could not make out 
 his neighbors, other than dark objects half submerged, some of 
 which grated and sawed against one another, as if quarrelling in the 
 contact, while others moved on in silence. 
 
 The roseate streaks of day dawned along the east, and soon 
 apace the sun came up in clouds, for the bright, clear night dis p- 
 peared in a haze, and day s huge luminary seemed a larger moon, so 
 shorn was it of light. The scene about our little hero was not en 
 couraging; a vast yellow flood of water, spread above the river s 
 banks, opened on each side. Immediately about him along streach 
 of floating trees, boxes, barrels, stumps, outhouses, and pens swept 
 along with him, while a steamboat, brea ting the current, and 
 therefore keeping from the centre, came roaring along. 
 
 At the sight of this source of rescue, the lad did not cry out 
 or wave any signal of distress. Young as his lii e was, he had 
 
THE WHARF-RAT. 113 
 
 learned the bitter lesson taught us all, and that was that to stop a 
 huge steamboat to rescue one little life would be an absurdity quite 
 outside all Christian calculations of charity. 1 put the case too 
 strongly. The fact is, Eat Ely, as he was known among his 
 brother newsboys, did not consider that he was in any peril, only 
 somewhat puzzled by the abrupt change being made in his sur 
 roundings. He therefore drew from his barrel the provisions he 
 had put aside the night before for his breakfast ; and, with sharp 
 little teeth, went to eating the chunk of bread and slices of 
 ham a kind hearted woman had given him. 
 
 While thus engaged he happened to glance along a tree, the 
 trunk of which touched his raft as the two floated along ; and he 
 saw resting on a limb ahead of him th} body of a man. Rat 
 dropped his breakfast, and, seizing the bark of the trunk with his 
 muscular little hands, he pulled along until he brought himself 
 within reach of the body. Resting for a few moments, he then 
 seized upon the coat of the man ; and, with infinite labor and after 
 a long time, succeeded in rolling the body in on his raft. 
 
 Rat saw that his find was handsomely dressed. Indeed, the 
 glitter of a heavy gold chain on the vest made the lad s eyes fairly 
 gleam. He was about to seize it, when the dead glare of the half- 
 opened eyes made him shudder and draw back. He turned from 
 the body, looked over the waters, and then went to gnawing at his 
 bread again. The lad knew that at the end of that chain there 
 was a watch. He reasoned that a man possessed of a watch must 
 have a pocketbook, and h" thought how cunning it would be to pos 
 sess himself of the valuables and then tumble the body back into 
 the water. 
 
 The boy had about determined on this, when, looking again at 
 his treasure, he saw a cut on the man s head, which was bleeding 
 afresh. While lie gazed the man moved. Rat s eyes opened in 
 amazement, and he continued to stare at the sufferer until the man, 
 a ter a brief struggle, sat up. The unfortunate gazed in a dazed 
 way at the lad for some time, and then asked, in a voice scarcely 
 above a whisper, how he got where he found himself. 
 
 " Fished ye out," responded the boy, with a nod at the river. 
 
 The man, drawing his feet from the water slowly and with 
 
114 THE WHARF- RAT. 
 
 difficulty, as if very weak, sat pondering, with the blood dripping 
 from his head, as if vainly endeavoring to pull his mind together. 
 At last he pointed to the breast-pocket of his overcoat, and said 
 in a whisper : " Git it out/ Thus instructed, the lad thrust in 
 his hand, and produced a leather- covered flask. Unscrewing the 
 stopper, he put the flask to the man s mouth, and the poor fellow- 
 drank eagerly of the contents. This seemed to revive him, but 
 brought on a chill that shook him from head to foot. Again and 
 again he drank, and then offered it to his preserver. Eat Ely took 
 one swallow of the fiery liquor, and then, nearly choking, handed 
 the flask hastily back. The man smiled faintly, and then, much 
 strengthened, said : 
 
 " Well, my, lad, what can we do now ? " 
 
 Rat pointed to a couple of men in a skiff not far off. One of 
 the men was pulling at the oars, while the other, standing in the 
 boat, was gazing at the drift as if in search of something more 
 valuable than logs. The sufferer on the raft threw up his hand, 
 and the boat was headed toward them. As it drew near, the back 
 of the man rowing was toward them, but the face of the fellow 
 standing came in full vie \v. Rat s companion hastily thrust his hand 
 into his bosom, and drawing out a Russia leather book, long and 
 flat, ha 1 ded it to the boy, telling him n an undertone to hide it. 
 Rat thrust it under the shavings of his bed in the barrel. The 
 bow of the skiff was thrust in over the raft, and the man, standing 
 erect, asked, with an oath, how the two got there. 
 
 " That s not the question," answered the rescued, with ap 
 parent nonchalance ; " what we are considering is how to get 
 out. See here, men, I will give you all my money (some $80) and 
 a reward besides, to get us safely ashore." 
 
 The men in the skiff conversed in an undertone with each other 
 for a moment, and then the spokesman of the two seized the 
 rescued and pulled him into the skiff. Rat Ely turned to secure 
 the hidden book, when the skiff was shoved off, leaving him on 
 the raft. He heard his friend remonstrating as he seized the arm 
 of the man who liad pulled him in, and saw him pushed down, 
 and the boat rowed rapidly away toward the shore. 
 
 Rat Ely felt angry, of course, but he was so accustomed to 
 
THE WHARF-RAT. 115 
 
 rough treatment in his young life that his indignation was short 
 lived, and he gazed after the skiff and its occupants until they 
 were lost in the hazy distance. Then he turned his attention to 
 his own unpleasant condition. After a time, he drew the book 
 from the barrel, and, opening it, found a mass of water-soaked 
 papers. The boy could not read print, although a newsboy, let 
 alone writing, but he tenderly unfolded the sheets and spread 
 them out to dry. As the sun rose brighter in the heavens, the 
 mist lifted and disappeared, giving way for the warm rays to assist 
 in the task. The papers soon lost their dampness ; but the leather 
 case remained so wet for hours that he could not replace the 
 documents This, however, was at last accomplished, and the 
 boy, lost in replacing the papers, did not notice a boat that, ap 
 proaching, gave out a hearty hail. Looking out, he saw a large 
 ferryboat, worked by horses, laden with people. 
 
 "What ar ye doin thar? " cried the man in command. 
 
 "Nuthin," responded the boy. 
 
 "Well, hurry through and git aboard. * 
 
 Rat, thrusting the package in his bosom, and picking up the 
 flask that had been dropped on the raft, responded, and scram 
 bled up over the side of the boat, nimble as a squirrel. No further 
 attention was paid him by the master of the raft. A stout woman 
 with a kind face tried to draw out of the boy some account of his 
 adventures, but, meeting with no encouragement, abandoned the 
 attempt. Eat watched his home float off, but took the loss with 
 the sense of the inevitable to which he had been trained. With 
 the same quiet indifference, he accepted his rescue. The flood 
 had submerged the village bluff where they landed, and while the 
 passengers, horses, and wagons disappeared in the town, Rat re 
 mained upon the wharf-boat, with his box and brushes strung 
 over his shoulder, well knowing that, sooner or later, a steamboat 
 would come puffing along, on which he proposed returning to the 
 city. This happened in an hour after his landing ; and, waiting 
 his opportunity as the steamboat was moving out, he sprang aboard 
 and disappeared among the pile of boxes and barrels like a veri 
 table rat. 
 
 Our little hero returned to the city and plunged again into his 
 
116 THE WHARF-RAT. 
 
 fierce fight for existence. He had suffered a severe loss in the 
 great calamity of a flood such as the country had never seen before. 
 His house was gone, and had he been called upon to make an as 
 signment the remaining assets would not have paid a cent on the 
 dollar ; but, as he had no creditors, that formality was not pressed 
 upon him. Had he taken account of stock, which he did not, he 
 would have found himself possessed of his health, brushes, blacking- 
 box, and the indomitable energy of Armand Richelieu sung of by the 
 lascivious Bulwer. Rat Ely did not read the papers he dealt in. 
 Certain striking features of the sensational daily sewers he dealt 
 out were given him arid his comrades, and these at that time 
 were, "All About the Flood," and a particularly interesting 
 execution of a brutal murderer that the cultured wives and 
 children of the reading public were permitted to enjoy. 
 
 Had the Rat read his wares, he would have found that he had 
 taken part in a mystery which was then agitating the social world, 
 and which told of the strange disappearance of a prominent 
 citizen. 
 
 Mr. Arnold Stevens had left Central Pennsylvania, where he 
 had converted an inheritance from an uncle into bonds to the 
 amount of fifty thousand dollars, and, returning home, had 
 diverged to a point in Virginia where he had relations and some 
 business. From this point he had travelled to the village of 
 Clamdon on the river, where he took the steamboat Helen Marr 
 for home. As the boat was expected to land at the city in the 
 night, Mr. Stevens did not retire to his stateroom, but spent the 
 time at cards with three passengers in the cabin. When informed 
 that the steamboat was about to round-to for the wharf, he went 
 to his stateroom to put on his overcoat and secure his satchel. 
 This was the last seen of him. As the stateroom opened upon the 
 guard, by another door, that would be nearer the city, the boat 
 clerk supposed he had gone out that way and so got ashore. The 
 three passengers who had been playing cards with him also disap 
 peared. 
 
 Some davs after, a lumberman getting a load of boards from a 
 yard found Mr. Stevens satchel cut open and the contents scat 
 tered about the place. 
 
THE WHARF-RAT. 11? 
 
 Here was a clue to foul play that the police seized on. From 
 it. policeman-like, they worked up a theory, in which they were 
 aided by Mr. Stevens creditors, to the effect that the unfortunate 
 man had made off with his fifty thousand dollars, and had, \\ hile 
 doing so, cut open his own valise as a blind. It was soon found 
 that a disreputable woman had disappeared at the same time, and, 
 although Mr. Stevens left a wife and family, to whom he was ten 
 derly attached, in the deepest grief and financial distress, nothing 
 could shake the efficient police in their cunning theory and cruel 
 result. 
 
 The one little braia that could have solved the mystery was not 
 called on nor consulted. 
 
 In his ten years of life the Rat had grown cunning and cau 
 tious. He had but one hope, and that was his dail) subsistence, 
 and but one fear, and that was the police. Once in his life a 
 drunken Kentuckian had given him a valuable pin. In attempt 
 ing to realize on this, he had been seized and sent to what we are 
 pleased to call a Reform School " for six months. The little 
 Arab had not only pined in his prison, but got so much "reform/ 
 bad food, and a stick that he wisely resolved never to have any " re 
 form in his " again. 
 
 The hair-mattressed and linen-sheeted world that grumbles in 
 its morning rest at the newsboys cries at daylight, little dream of 
 the privations from which these ragged Mercuries emerge, yelling, 
 as they run along, the "news," which the Hoe presses have been 
 throwing off at the dead hour of the night. From arched ways 
 and areas, from damp cellars and suffocating tenement rooms, half 
 clad and all starved, these homoeopathic doses of humanity swarm 
 out with a fierce activity that tells what they may come to be if 
 they grow to manhood. It is fortunate for society r that only 
 i he m re rugged and tough survive, for there is here the raw ma 
 terial being worked up to feed jails and fill penitentiaries, with, at 
 intervals, the skull of a born murd rer to supply the gallows. 
 
 Among these Rat Ely found place. His first sleeping apart 
 ment was in the area of a restaurant, where the hot steam made 
 warm the half-dozen boys huddled together, but had the exasper 
 ating indeed, at times, maddening odor of cooking, that brought 
 
118 THE WHARF-RAT. 
 
 to their empty stomachs a realizing sense of their keen demands. 
 As winter melted in the warmth of spring, the little fellow, 
 with a partner, found an old store box in the back yard of a 
 shop, that they fitted up with shavings and bits of old carpet, 
 so that it served their purpose for the half-nights they gave to 
 sleep. 
 
 Eat Ely s wearing apparel was more comfortable than elegant. 
 It consisted mainly of a woollen jacket, a world too wide for his 
 slender body, and which, reaching to his knees, concealed his lack 
 of underwear. In the huge breast-pocket of this he concealed his 
 treasures, together with such scraps of food as, dog like, he could 
 gather from waste barrels set out to be carted off by dealers in 
 such refuse. Of the two treasures, Ely s affections centred on 
 the silver-mounted flask that he often contemplated with the 
 delight of a miser, and from which he, from time to time, tasted 
 sparingly, quite pleased with the cheerful frame of mind that fol 
 lowed. He, however, regarded with some awe the book his un 
 fortunate friend so earnestly sought to hide. Poor boy, he little 
 dreamed that he was carrying hid in his bosom a wealth for 
 which many a man, high in the social scale, would barter his 
 soul. So little did he know of this that often, when suffering 
 from the pangs of hunger, he was tempted to offer it for a mince 
 pie or a slice of cake. He was wild for sweets, the quality of 
 a healthy stomach, as the tastes of children, women, negroes, and 
 Indians prove. The fear of the police ai;d the workhouse re 
 strained him. 
 
 One day, turning the corner of the post-office, he found a 
 crowd of newsboys and shoeblacks gathered about something that 
 seemed to give them great satisfaction. Impelled by curiosity, 
 he struggled through the ring of urchins, and found in the mid 
 dle a little neatly-dressed six-year-old being baited by the cruel 
 fiends. The poor boy, frightened fearfully, stood pale and trem 
 bling in their midst, his little store of newspapers tumbled together 
 at his feet. Ely was aroused. Swinging his box viciously around, 
 leaving bloody marks on noses, he cried out, with more profanity 
 than I care to record: "Give the kid a chance ! give the kid a 
 chance ! " 
 
THE WHARF-RAT. 119 
 
 This diversion brought on a general engagement, that a good 
 natured policeman arrested. 
 
 Stop yer fightin , ye dirty little devils, and don t disturb the 
 public peace! " exclaimed the stout guardian of the peace and dig- 
 nitv of the commonwealth, as he knocked the contestants to the 
 right and left. 
 
 The lad thus rescued clung to Rat Ely as his preserver. The 
 Rat felt proud of his guardianship Gathering up the fallen 
 papers, he conducted his ward to a seat on the plaza, and consoled 
 the boy by telling him not to be a spooney. The lad could not, 
 however, recover from his scare, and begged his preserver to take 
 him home. Ely, without concealing his contempt, complied. A 
 long walk brought them to a rather handsome house, in a hand 
 somely-built part of the city, and Ely would have parted v ith his 
 ward at the foot of the stone steps leading to the front door, 
 but the boy begged so hard to have him enter that he did so. 
 The door was opened by a stout domestic in petticoats, who 
 stared in amazement at the ragged newsboy. She made no com 
 ment, however. In the hall they met a little girl of about twelve, 
 a bright-eyed, curly-headed miss, who exclaimed: 
 
 " Why, Arnold ! " and her face expressed what her lips failed 
 to, as she gazed at Arnold s companion. 
 
 " He saved my life, he did !* exclaimed the lad, "and I want 
 mamma to thank him." 
 
 His mamma, thus appealed to, soon appeared. She was a 
 woman of about thirty, in whose pale face were imprinted lines of 
 grief and anxiety. She heard the story of how her little hopeful 
 had started out to make a living for the family by selling papers, 
 and how he had been set upon by bad boys, and would have been 
 killed but for the interference of this ditty, much-coated little 
 Samaritan. The good woman listened, as tears coursed their way 
 down her pale cheeks, and then, to Ely s alarm and great embar 
 rassment, caught him in her arms and kissed him. Rat had never 
 been spoken to kindly, let alone being caressed, and he stood in 
 pitiable trouble at the demonstration. 
 
 "Only to think," sobbed the mother, "of my angel going out 
 to sell papers to get us bread, and you protected him ! God bless 
 
120 THE WHARF-RAT. 
 
 you." And then she put Ely to the question as to his home, life 
 and all. As he jerked out his short replies in awkward sentences, 
 her heart was still more stirred. 
 
 " No parents, no home, poor little fellow ! t is dreadful/ she 
 exclaimed, and then after a thoughtful pause, added : "You shall 
 have a shelter at least ; we are poor, and, God knows, suffering ; 
 but as long as we, have a shelter you shall share it. What is your 
 name ? " 
 
 "Rat Ely," he responded. 
 
 " Oh no, not that ; that cannot be your name ?" 
 
 "Yes, it is though; ain t got no other." 
 
 " Well, Ely, you return here to-nigh^, and I will have some 
 clothes for you, and you shall have a supper and a bed." 
 
 Eat Ely took all this without thanks. He had been so roughly 
 treated through life that such generosity seemed suspicious. He 
 looked inquiringly at the mother, then at the pretty girl from head 
 to foot, and having reached the lowest extremity, said : 
 
 "Shine em up !" 
 
 The mo her smiled and the little girl laughed. 
 
 "No, my boy, " the lady responded; "but you may in the 
 morning every morning if you will." 
 
 Thinking he had discovered the origin of the amazing proposi 
 tion that gave him food and lodging, he got out of the house as 
 quickly us possible. 
 
 The kind Providence that yet works miracles in behalf of the 
 innocent and oppressed had brought our hero in contact with the 
 d stressed and sor owing family of Arnold Stevens. The agencies 
 pre ared bv unbelieving men had failed, but Christ, who promised 
 to be with us to the end of time, is still here. He gazes lovingly at 
 us through the mother s eye ; walks unseen under the humble 
 garb of the good Sister of Charity ; devotes a life to service and 
 privation ; cries out for mercy to the poor dumb brutes through 
 the heart of a Bergh ; on every hand testifies to the truth of His 
 promise to be with us to the end. 
 
 This strange disappearance of the one bre .d-winner had brought 
 not only the shame of slanderous tongues, but the distress of 
 clamotous creditors. "There is but one thing more cruel than a 
 
THE WHARF-RAT. 121 
 
 million of dollars,* said Senator Sprague, " and that is a million 
 and a half." 
 
 Rat Ely returned, and quite alarmed the family by his vora 
 cious appetite, that threatened to clear the poor larder. The 
 good hearted mother worked diligently all day in making him a 
 new suiu out of some old clothes of her lost husband, and a cot 
 was given the lad in a room immediately under the roof. 
 
 AY hen Ely came to don his new suit a grave trouble oppressed 
 him. It afforded him no room for the concealment of his treas 
 ures. After some study he tore a hole in his mattress and hid 
 book and flask therein. He was so unused to the ways of civilized 
 life, that he did not know that a bed had to be rearranged every 
 morning and the first bed making by Bridget brought that honest 
 and indignant domestic to Mrs. Stevens room. Bridget had not 
 approved of this charity on the part of a woman too poor to pay 
 her wages, and she cried, with a red face : 
 
 { It s a dirty little sot and thafe yer harborin , ma am ! Look 
 what I found hid in his mattress. " 
 
 Mrs Stevens did look, turning pale and trembling so that she 
 could scarcely stand. It was her own Christmas gift to her hus 
 band, and through the stains of us. and abuse could yet be traced 
 the monogram painted upon the side. With trembling hands she 
 seized the precious relic and looked at it through tears, until, to 
 Bridget s astonishment and alarm, she fell fainting to the floor. 
 All day 1-ng she sat with the flask in her hand. How slowly the 
 hours wore away until evening brought Ely back to his supper 
 and bed; Then she told him of her sad affliction, and begged to 
 know how he got possession of the flask. The boy, in return, 
 related his adventures ; more briefly and graphically told than I 
 have been able to give them. When he ended she said : 
 
 " The book, Ely, the book/ 
 
 " Got it ! he said, and hurrying to the dorm tory, returned 
 with what Bridget had failed to discover. Mrs. Stevens opened it 
 and found the fortune for which her husband had probably lost 
 his life. 
 
 Possessed of means, not only sufficient to relieve the irate cred 
 itors, but to employ men to trace her lost husband, she again con- 
 
122 THE WHARF-RAT. 
 
 suited the detectives. These able men, who figure so prominently 
 in fiction, listened incredulously to the story. However, as money 
 was to be had to pay expenses, and a reward of 15000 was offered 
 for success in working out the mystery, the miraculously endowed 
 detectives endowed, I mean, in novels and plays went to work. 
 The detective of literature is a wonderful man. He is a Fouche 
 and a Bucket rolled in one ; who, to great honesty, adds a wisdom 
 thtt makes the reader hold his breath. In real life, he is a fellow 
 who fails as a thief, and turns detective that he may share the 
 plunder without fear of punishment. 
 
 Mrs. Stevens soon learned that, to accomplish her purpose, she 
 would have to take control. The head detective proved ineffably 
 stupid, and made his stupidity offensive by his conceit. Little Ely 
 volunteered to show the police from the river the place where Mr. 
 Stevens left him and Wjas landed. The wise detectives treated the 
 proposition with contempt. But the wife accepted, and a party 
 was made up to row in ;<n open boat down the river. Ely sat in 
 the bow of the boat, looking out eagerly, w thout any misgivings 
 as to the accuracy of his lead. It was no light task. The river, 
 familiar enough to the lad at the city, was an unknown region be 
 low, and the change, from a terrible flood to an ordinal y stage, 
 Wi.s so great that he might well be puzzled. The brain, however, 
 that has not been obscured by book learning, and the eyes not 
 dulled by reading, take, up and retain all of this material world 
 they encounter, and, at a point in their progress, the little fellow 
 threw up his h nd and cried, " Here - the place ! " 
 
 The boat was he ^ded to the bank, and the search began. Every 
 body living along the shore, and all within a mile in the country 
 back, were questioned. It was slow and tedious work, and without 
 eliciting a particle of information. All seemed dead, blank igno 
 rance. The se i rch was render d irritating by the conduct of the 
 detective. He was sullen and inattentive. 
 
 " You seem to be without hope, said Mrs. Stevens. The man 
 shook his head in assent. " Well/ continued the wife, " what do 
 you think ? " 
 
 " I don t want to discourage you, mum," replied the creature ; 
 "but it s wild-goose, all uv it," 
 
THE WHARF-RAT. 123 
 
 " What is wild-goose?" 
 
 "A follerin this little thievin cove. Now, "biz is biz, an" it s 
 my biz to speak out. It s all plain to me, for I ain t a woman, 
 an s my heart don t blind my sense, I see it." 
 
 "What do you >ee?" 
 
 " The gent is tumbled senseless off uv the Helen Marr. He is 
 caught in a tree. This little cove is a-sailin down on a raft all 
 likely. Well, he just helps himself to the valuables, and lets the 
 body go ; an 7 now he eads ye a wild-goose chase, on a shore where 
 ye see nobody knows nothin . Oh, I m up to these wharf -rats. 
 They are as cunniu as Satan, an can lie like sin." 
 
 The poor woman at this brutal speech, made in the presence 
 of the lad, felt at first dismayed, and then, glancing at his indig 
 nant face, had her confidence restored. Crowding down the pain 
 and disgust, she said quietly : 
 
 * That is harder to believe than his story. This river gives up 
 its dead, and had the body of my poor husband been carried off on 
 this great highway, it would have been discovered sooner or later, 
 and the newspapers filled with the fact. No, the boy tells the 
 truth. We wiil search from here to the city, and from here south, 
 until he is found. You take whichever direction you please. This 
 lad and I will take the other. I pay you for your time. Which 
 way will you go ? " 
 
 " Weli, mum, if you will, you will. If the gent did get to shore 
 alive, he uv course made for home." 
 
 No, he didn t ! " cried Ely. 
 
 * Why not ? " asked the detective, contemptuously. 
 
 "Coz he d a-got there fore this." 
 
 T e detective grunted. It was arranged that he should con 
 tinue the search in the direction of the city, while the wife and Ely 
 went south. The detective obeyed by walking to the nearest rail 
 way station, scorning to ask another question, and so returned to 
 the city and his associate thieves and beer. 
 
 The unhappy wife procured a conveyance and slowly and weari 
 ly continued her sad quest. She not only questioned at every 
 house, but sought the country doctors and undertakers on the way 
 this for days, but all without avail. Had the earth opened and 
 
124 THE WHARF-RAT. 
 
 shallowed her husband on his reaching shore, he could not have 
 more entirely and suddenly disappeared. 
 
 All this time the words of the detective were working at her 
 heart. She gazed earnestly at the boy, and again and again made 
 him tell over his story, hoping yet fearing to find some contradic 
 tion upon which to base a doubt. But the little fellow never 
 varied. Her husband could not be dead ; death makes an event 
 in a quiet community. It is known of all men, and goes to the 
 record of memory, if not to print. Yet where could he be ? 
 
 At last she caught a clue. A woman, bending over awashtub 
 in a farm-house near the river, being interrogated, said: 
 
 " Ain t hearn tell of any sick man. Cut there is a sick feller 
 as was took off the river in the big flood, lynY very poorly at the 
 Widder Tuckerman s." 
 
 " Whi re, where is that?" asked the wife, eagerly. 
 
 " Well, nigh on to a mile from here. The man what had the 
 poor cretur in a wagin couldn t get anybody to take him till Doc 
 tor Olds hit the pcrcession, and he pursuaded the widder to take 
 him. She is grevin for her man, that was drowned in that same 
 flood, and felt more like doin somethin 7 for the poor cretur." 
 
 " He is sick ! " exclaimed the wife, motioning the driver to 
 move on, and then, catching her breath and his hand, stopped him 
 to get the reply. 
 
 " Well, yes, mity poorly and flighty keeps up a great talk 
 about nothin and sumthin along at the same time tho I did 
 see the doctor goin by yesterday, and he allowed there was a 
 turn." 
 
 Along the rough road the carriage was hurried, until the hum 
 ble home of the widow was reached. It was well for the patient 
 that Mrs. Stevens met the old doctor at the door. To him she 
 hurriedly told her story. The physician listened patiently to the 
 end, and then said: 
 
 " Your husband has been very ill of brain fever. He is yet 
 hanging doubtfully to life, but is better. Glad you have come, 
 for he nee Is nursing." Without another word, he led the way to 
 the sick-room. 
 
 The appearance of the sick man shocked the wife, ai.u made 
 
THE WHARF-RAT. 125 
 
 her for a moment doubt the identity. Stretched upon a rude bed, 
 under the glare o. curtainless windows, lay an emaciated form 
 with such a ghastly paleface, pinched features, and cavernous eyes, 
 that her heart stilled its beating, and she nearly fainted. Love, 
 through tears, found recognition, and, woman-Hke, the wife turned 
 instantly to nurse. The go d old doctor, in a whisper, called her 
 attention to the fact that he was sleeping quietly, and said that in 
 this, his first natural sleep, was promise of health. He hoped that 
 with waking would come reason. 
 
 So it proved. After a long, long sleep the patient opened his 
 eyes, and, recognizing his wife, whispered, " Darling." With 
 tears falling on his wasted face, she kissed him, and then remem 
 bering the warning of the doctor, put her finger to her lips with a 
 reproving nod, and went about her silent work of restoration. 
 
 Arnold Stevens fine constitution, aided by skimmed milk and 
 tender nursing, grew strong apace. Some days after, with his 
 poor head resting on his wife s bosom, he told, in broken frag 
 ments, of his misfortunes. He had evidently been followed from 
 Pennsylvania by men bent on robbing him. When he left the 
 card-table to get his overcoat, he went from the stateroom through 
 the door upon the guard, which, as the boat rounded to, would 
 fetch him nearest the landing. Hearing the door close, the rob 
 bers ran round, and while one, as he thought, seized his valise, 
 supposing it had his valuables, the other struck him on the head, 
 and the three threw him into the river. 
 
 " A ragged little fellow/ he continued, pulled me out of the 
 water." 
 
 "Yes, yes," said h s wife, "I know that ; but afterward, when 
 those bad men took you from the raft, what happened ? 
 
 The husband looked surprised at this interruption, and then 
 continued : I quarrelled with them for leaving the poor lad. I 
 called them miserable brutes, and when we reached the shore I 
 was knocked senseless for my epithets. I don t know how long I 
 lay there, but when T recovered my senses, I had been robbed of 
 my watch, pocketbook, overcoat and all my papers. Some hours 
 after a stout fellow rowed by, and. hailing him, I offered him fifty 
 dollars to row me after the raft and rescue the lad. I was half 
 
126 THE WHARF-RAT. 
 
 crazy, for the poor boy had my bonds. I suppose I became un 
 conscious, for I knew no more until I opened my eyes here on you, 
 dear wife." After a pause, he asked, anxiously : " Did that man 
 find the lad ? " She shook her head, and, with a deep sigh, be went 
 on : "Poor little fellow and poor me ! You get your miserable 
 husband again, Pet,* but you get a ruined man." 
 
 "Oh no, not quite that," she laughed; "the little fellow 
 found himself, and, what is more to the purpose, he found me, 
 with all your wealth. Ely ! Ely ! come here." 
 
 The husband started up in amazement as the little fellow 
 ran in. 
 
 "God bless you !" cried Mr. Stevens, putting his emaciated 
 hand on the round head. " You shall be my boy after this." 
 
 It is a melancholy fact that the Rat received this benediction 
 and promise with solemn indifference. The emotions o f sensibil 
 ity are the result of culture, and the Rat had not yet been taught 
 and trained to that luxury. 
 
THE FEMALE CLERK AT WASHINGTON. 
 
 NOVEL XII. 
 
 THE "Department at Washington is a cross between West 
 Point and the penitentiary. It has all the discipline and degrada 
 tion of the one, and the despotism of the other. Filled with 
 workers from the political fields, who have gotten places for ser 
 vices at the polls through the influt-nce of politicians, and as their 
 offices are held subject to the selfish wants of the patrons, the 
 laborers live in constant horror of dismissal. The rod held over 
 them is more potent and cruel than was the whip of the overseer 
 on the Southern plantations. 
 
 To make more clear the despotism, there is no part of the 
 civilized world in which the iron law of caste has such firm foun 
 dation and such immovable power. The President of the United 
 States to a " Department " is a god in whose presence clerks must 
 stand with heads bared, and speak when spoken to with bated 
 breath. After him comes the Cabinet officer, and as he stalks 
 along the corridors, head up and form composed, with a look that 
 glares from his face, flashes from his step, and waves majestically 
 from his very coat-tails, a silence precedes and follows him, like 
 that which pervades a grove when an old hen-hawk goes swooping 
 through. All the little birds suspend their singing until the 
 feathered pirate is gone. How the messengers bow down in the 
 humility of mannered prayer as they swing open the heavy doors 
 to this incarnation of official flummery ! 
 
 After the Secretary appears the Senator. The Senator carries 
 a heavier pressure of official dignity to the square inch than even 
 the Cabinet officer. But he does not get such an awful and im 
 posing recognition as that " tin-god-on-wheels " known as the 
 head of the Department. 
 
 The Member of the House comes next. He mars his dignity 
 
128 THE FEMALE CLERK AT WASHINGTON. 
 
 through his hurry ; a steam-tug cannot pose as a seventy-four. 
 Then the average member chews tobacco, and this use of the weed 
 indicates human weakness. True official dignity calls for a sub 
 limated, godlike condition of fog that lifts one above common 
 human wants and weaknesses. The late George Washington, as 
 seen by the multitude, emblems a Department notion of true 
 greatness. 
 
 After the Member of the House appears the Head of a Bureau. 
 Great Scott ! what an immense creature he is in his own estima 
 tion. Now, next to being immense in the mind of others, the best 
 thing is to be gigantic in your own. 
 
 And so file in the captains of thousands, and captains of hun 
 dreds, until the poor, wretched clerks appear, living on a bare sub 
 sistence, and not able to sleep of nights lest this be taken from 
 them. The misery of the. place comes from the uncertain tenure 
 of office. The male clerks are mostly men unfitted by nature for 
 the fierce competition of human life. This drove them in the 
 first instance into politics, and from thence they drift into the De 
 partments. Originally helpless, they mould into deformities, and 
 expulsion from office means starvation. 
 
 The tenure is uncertain because every new member fetches 
 to Washington a fresh following to be provided for, and he is fierce 
 in his demands. The new civil service rules are meant to mitigate 
 this evil. The trouble with them is that they are based on false 
 premises. The Hon. Eaton, of Connecticut, and the lion. Pen- 
 dleton, of Ohio, a politician I christened some years since by the 
 name he is now known by, "Gentleman Gqorge," copied this 
 competitive system from the English Government, where the 
 service suffered from being monopolized by the aristocracy, and all 
 the places were filled with incompetent younger sons and depend 
 ents. To rid the Government of this, and throw the positions open, 
 the competitive examination was instituted. 
 
 Now the trouble with us is, not in the lack of aHlity, but in 
 the absence of honesty, the poor pay, and the uncertain tenure of 
 office. An official with us has to steal to live and that rapidly, in 
 view of the uncertainty of official life. 
 
 The English competitive nonsense is, with us, the mere shift- 
 
THE FEMALE CLERK AT WASHINGTON 120 
 
 ing of responsibility, or rather the appearance of it, from the 
 appointing power to the board, and the board is accommodating. 
 It comprehends the force of a wink. 
 
 However, I am not engaged in treating on civil service,but to 
 illustrate it in the story of Miss Alice Doehead a would-be female 
 clerk at Washington. 
 
 Hon. Daniel Doehead was a wealthy man, who bought a seat 
 in the Senate, very much as his wife bought her carriage, to en 
 hance his social position. A quiet, inoffensive, solid man, he filled 
 his place as a- butter-firkin would have done no more, no less. 
 He looked to the committee for instructions, and followed his 
 leader in his votes, and so glided quietly along the well-oiled tracks 
 of legislation. 
 
 In the same way the family, consisting of wife and daughter, 
 assumed its place in society. Renting the gorgeously furnished 
 house of a retired Cabinet official, the Hon. Doehead gave dinners, 
 and Mrs. D. receptions. The roll of carriages and the crowd of 
 visitors told in the usual way of their social success. Alice, the 
 lovely little daughter, shy as a fawn, shone as a belle, and, for the 
 two seasons given the family, had in train suitors, running from 
 the bald headed widowed Senators down to Dick Wingate, her 
 father s private sec etary, a handsome young fellow, who had lifted 
 himself from a thousand-dollar clerk to a twenty-five hundred 
 dollar secretary, through, first, his knowledge of short-hand, and, 
 secondly,, his power to supply the brain necessary to make the 
 phonographic skill available. He loved the little Alice, but 
 dared not say so ; and she, regarding the secretary as the hand 
 somest and most fascinating of men, treated him, on that account, 
 with ex reme reserve. 
 
 The political world has forgotten for the political world is as 
 short of memory as it is short of principle how a vacancy once 
 occurred in the Senate by the sudden death of ilie Hon. Doehead. 
 The remote cause of his demise was attributed to the Washington 
 malaria that, born of the Kid well bottoms, is said lu iioat over the 
 national Capitol and kill the solons. The fact is that the fatal 
 malaria did not float at all. It is in perpetual solution and well 
 bottled. It is composed of cheap champa.ne and doctored whiskey, 
 
130 THE FEMALE CLERK AT WASHINGTON. 
 
 and kills on sight. The Hon. Doehead not only disappeared 
 from earth, but his riches went with him. The poor wife, who 
 had been kept in ignorance all her married life of her husband s 
 affairs, awakened to the dismal fact that she and her daughter 
 were without a cent on which to live. 
 
 While casting about for a refuge from their poverty, the daugh 
 ter thought of and suggested a clerkship at Washington. The 
 suggest on was acted on, and so wretchedly poor were they that a 
 sale of their personal effects only gave them mom y en ugh to reach 
 the national capital. 
 
 They arrived in a vacation of Congress, when the wide, hot city 
 seemed to be sleeping without even the disturbing noise of a snore. 
 The street cars, running empty, alone awakened, with their rattle, 
 the echoes of the deserted streets. At the hotels, that superior be 
 ing, the head clerk, rested like a volcano in repose ; nothing but 
 the dazzling gleam of his diamond bosom indicating the fearful 
 power that lies hid in the awful explosion of the word " Front," 
 when he consigns the wretch of a guest to the hands of a call-boy. 
 
 Mother and daughter did not disturb the repose of this su 
 perior person, but found refuge in a humble room located on 
 Boundary Street, and immediately went forth to seek the means of 
 livelihood. The Administration was absent. At the Executive 
 mansion the servants alone lounged about its lofty room", arid 
 through its lofty windows the pungent odors of the Kidwell bot 
 toms wafted to and fro. At the Departments, in the cool corri 
 dors, the messengers, tilted back in easy chairs, dozed undisturbed. 
 Two of the Cabinet alone remained at their posts. These were 
 patriotic, conscientious officials, who could not consent to vacate 
 their positions while certain heavy contracts were being executed. 
 Some vile calumniators insinuated that these officials were person 
 ally concerned in the millions involved, by asserting as much in 
 the columns of journals, under huge head-lines. But no one 
 heeded t !i eir libels ; and, although these high officials were subse 
 quently dismissed from place, and one of them indicted, they yet 
 bid fair to die lamented, and leave memories sweet to the mind 
 of the American multitude that piously refrains from speak- 
 
THE FEMALE CLERK AT WASHINGTON. 131 
 
 ing ill of the dead while heaping vast oceans of abuse on the 
 living. 
 
 The poor women, walking in from their distant home, trailed 
 wearily from Department to Department in vain. The two Cabi 
 net officials, who had partaken of their hospitality in their pros 
 perous hours, received them politely, one each, and after that it 
 was found impossible to gain the presence of either. Hour after 
 hour they sat in the ante- chamber of the one or the other, and 
 saw hard-looking men and bold women admitted and dismissed, 
 but their turn never came. They had no political influence, that 
 open sesame to the cave of the forty thieves, and our Saviour him 
 self without this might have starved in the ante- chamber of a 
 Government official. 
 
 As time wore on their few clothes wore out, especially the 
 shoes, and their little store of money got less and less. At last, 
 reduced to one pair of shoes, and a few crackers each day, that 
 they moistened with tears, the shy little girl was forced to go 
 alone, the mother remaining at home, having nothing to put on 
 her feet. The poor girl lengthened her walk by a square to avoid 
 a certain bake- shop, not that, like Dick Swiveller, she had a debt 
 there, but to avoid the odor of the place that fairly maddened her. 
 She thought of her old friend and father s secretary, Dick AVin- 
 gate, but found that he was off with a Senatorial committee 
 appointed to put in the summer junketing in the North. 
 
 There was one hope alone left mother and daughter. The 
 Secretary of the Department devoted to Jobs and Expenditures 
 had been not only the warm personal friend of the late Senator, 
 but the Senator had been actively instrumental in elevating the 
 Secretary to his high and responsible position. He was away from 
 the capital, but expected back every day. 
 
 At last the great man arrived, and Alice was ushered into his 
 presence. It was an imposing presence in every sense of the word. 
 He was tall, broad-shouldered, full-stomached, and needed only 
 two ram s horns to make him a living representative of the dead 
 satyr sung of in Greek mythology. His coarse face, full of animal 
 feeling, was so without intellect that a wicked Sunday journal let 
 fly at him an epigram that read : 
 
132 THE FEMALE CLERK AT WASHINGTON. 
 
 " In Goldsmith s day there once a wonder grew, 
 How one small head could carry all it knew ; 
 But now tis changed, we here a wonder find, 
 To see so large a carcass, with so little mind." 
 
 Nature is considerate, and gave to the huge Secretary a cun 
 ning that more than compensated for an absence of intellect. 
 
 The huge animal received Alice with gushing cordiality. In 
 deed he held her little hand in his much longer than the occasion 
 called for, and gazed into her delicate, lovely face with an inten 
 sity of expression that made the poor maiden drop her eyes and 
 blush, she scarcely knew why. He promised her an immediate 
 place, took her address, and, to the confusion of the two women, 
 dashed up to the door of their humble abode, and insisted on 
 their ridi 1 g with him to the Soldiers Home. Both could not go, 
 for one would le in her stockings, and Alice was consigned to his 
 fatherly care. 
 
 The ride was not pleasant to Alice, for, in the first place, she 
 was famishing, actually sick and dizzy from lack of food ; in the 
 second place, the great man s conversation and manner were un 
 pleasant. He dwelt upon her beauty, her old lovers, and insisted 
 upon holding her hand. Alice was young and confiding, but not 
 altogether inexperienced, for two seasons in Washington had forced 
 much on her mind that had given her knowledge without affecting 
 her purity. The ride, at last, came to an end and was followed 
 by a stipper at Welcher s. The poor girl tried hard to restrain 
 herself, but hunger was too much for her, and she was ashamed of 
 the fierce appetite she exhibited. The Secretary did not eat, but 
 did drink enormously, and was immensely amused at his little 
 friend s enjoyment. She ate all offered her, but refused the prof 
 fered wine. 
 
 "Your mother looks delicate, Alice." He was very familiar, 
 this great man. " The grief at the loss of your dear father and 
 my dear friend is telling on her ; she needs delicacies and some of 
 this old wine. I must see that she has quails and some old sherry. 
 We will start now." He gave an order that Alice feebly resisted, 
 and a basket, well laden, was placed in the carriage and left with 
 Alice at her home. 
 
THE FEMALE CLERK AT WASHINGTON. J33 
 
 Poor Mrs. Doehead thanked God upon her knees that night 
 long and earnestly for thus sending this great and good man to 
 their relief. It may have been our heavenly Father who sent 
 him, but Alice was distressed. There was something in it that 
 made her pure white soul feel, to say the least, uneasy, and when 
 she prayed it was to the holy Mary, Mother of God, to protect the 
 orphan and the widow. 
 
 I have not the space nor the inclination to dwell upon what 
 followed in the continued and unremitting favor of this good man. 
 It is true he gave Alice no clerkship, but the rides continued. 
 The supply of delicacies and wines went on ; and one day the 
 great Secretary, while excusing himself for not finding the place 
 he desired, insisted on loaning the widow some money, to be 
 repaid from the girl s salary when she secured the position he had 
 in view. 
 
 The summer wore on, and as autumn came in with its cool 
 sea breezes from the Potomac, Washington seemed to wake up 
 from its sleepy recess. Alice noticed, in her rides, the increased 
 number of gay equipages they met, and she was also forced to note 
 the strange stare the occupants gave her as. nodding to the Sec 
 retary, they swept by. Once or twice she caught the gleam of 
 a smile that flashed like sheet-lightning over faces that had 
 greeted the Secretary, after the carriages had passed. 
 
 There is no city on earth where the tide of human life 
 changes so rapidly and completely as at Washington. It is true 
 there is a population of old families, and it marries, has children, 
 and lives and dies as elsewhere ; but it is not upon the surface. 
 It lives unseen, and deep sea-soundings are necessary to bring 
 specimens to the surface. Xow a new world of faces came 
 sweeping into Washington, as Alice saw it ; but there was enough 
 of a remnant left to teach the child a lesson. There were peo 
 ple who had partaken of her father s generous hospitality in their 
 more prosperous hour, and had. many of them, followed, flattered, 
 sought, and sued the little heiress. Now they gazed at her with 
 cold, averted faces and so all the world was strange. 
 
 The cruelest blow came when the long-looked-for Dick Win- 
 gate, the handsome, genial, clever young man, whose manner had 
 
131: THE FEMALE CLERK AT WASHINGTON. 
 
 told her instinctively that he loved, although no vow of love had 
 ever passed his lips. I say the blow came when he returned. Alice 
 met him upon the street, and she could not refrain from hurrying 
 her steps and holding out her hands with a sunny smile. What 
 was her amazement, her distress, at receiving from him only a cold 
 bow, and no notice of her outstretched hands as he passed. Her 
 heart and breath seemed to forsake her, and as the one came back 
 through a sob, the other seemed to bound back as if struck with 
 a blow. What could it mean ? Why should he, too, turn on 
 her? 
 
 She did not know that, hearing of the family misfortunes, and 
 her return to Washington, the young man had hurried, with his 
 heart in his mouth, to the Capitol as soon as his official duties 
 would permit ; and that on his arrival all his lov ng hopes were 
 blighted by the cruel scandal that met him at every turn. Scan 
 dal is the moral miasma of Washington that touches all, and 
 taints all it touches. Common report made his little love the mis 
 tress of a man (his own chief, for Dick was his private secretary), 
 whose very presence was pollution to womanhood. 
 
 She did not know this, of course ; she would have died of 
 shame and mortification had the slightest whisper reached her ear. 
 Nor did he know that his cruel blow had dr ven her to the 
 edge of the precipice over which he believed she had already 
 fallen. The Hon. Secretary, madly infatuated, had been cun 
 ningly careful not to frighten the timid fawn he meant to sacri 
 fice. He had, it is true, done all in his power to compromise the 
 girl, well knowing that when reputation is lost a great safeguard 
 is broken down, and desperation accomplishes what passionate ap 
 peals fail to win. To this end he had sent his carriage at midnight 
 to the corner of the block upon which t e helpless women lived 
 a neighborhood of clerks, where rowdies out late or police out 
 early could see it drive away. 
 
 Let no one believe for a moment that I am romancing. That 
 fact last told was notorious in Washington when our Government 
 reached, let us hope, its lowest plane of pollution a level that made 
 the most shameful and shameless periods of European court-life 
 both refined and respectable. 
 
THE FEMALE CLERK AT WASHINGTON. 135 
 
 "While Alice remained innocent, her womanly instincts kept her 
 warned, and although the social and political world was busy with 
 her name, she had kept the wrong-doer at arm s distance. He had 
 passed from rides and suppers to gifts ai.d notes, all the while 
 holding out the promise of immediate place that was never given. 
 Returning home after the cruel cut from her old associate and 
 lover, crowding down as best she might the grief that had made 
 her wild and desperate, she found a note from her patron, asking 
 her to come to his house at five that afternoon. At any other time 
 she would have declined this meeting. But now as she was, she 
 resolved to comply ; the consequences of such a step dimly shad 
 owed themselves upon her maidenly fears, but she thrust them 
 aside. There was the one man of all the world who had taken 
 pity on them, saved them from starvation, and stood ready to give 
 her an honest and honorable calling ; so she complied. 
 
 Ascending the broad stone steps of the then most aristocratic 
 mansion of Washington, she rang the bell, and the huge door 
 swung open immediately, the Secretary himself ushered the little 
 girl into his library. The wide, lofty hall, dimly lit, exhibited a 
 wealth of art and upholstery such as Alice had nearly forgotten 
 in her banishment from luxury to privation. In the superbly- 
 adorned library she was somewhat startled to find the daylight 
 shut out, and the beautiful room lighted by a lamp on the library 
 table that made heavy shadows on all sides. 
 
 The presence of innocent maidenhood awed the selfish brute. 
 He found it difficult, although fortified with wine, to advance in 
 his purpose. Seating himself, he said that in the absence of his 
 family he kept but one servant, and the fellow had taken a holiday 
 to himself. He went on to say that he could not consent to have 
 the lovely daughter of his dear old friend placed in a miserable po 
 sition, and had made up his mind to share with Alice and her 
 mother some of the wealth it had been his fortune to acquire. He 
 wanted to be a protector to her, and surround her with all the 
 luxury to which she had been so accustomed. She should live with 
 her mother in a lovely little house, servants at will, and the love 
 liest little coupe to be had for money, and all he asked in return 
 was her love. 
 
136 TUE FEMALE CLERK AT WASHINGTON. 
 
 He approached as lie spoke, and she rose from her chair, 
 shocked and frightened, now that the fact of degradation was 
 frankly presented to her. She drew back, pale and trembling ; 
 but the creature had gone too far to retreat, and seizing her in 
 his arms he attempted kisses that came to her face heavy with 
 whiskey and tobacco. She struggled to free herself, and failing, 
 screamed out a piteous appeal. 
 
 "Oh, let me go ! " she screamed ; "oh, for God s sake, let me 
 go. I cannot, I cannot " 
 
 Further resistance was suppressed in his embraces, and as she 
 freed her face she gave utterance to a wild despairing cry, the Hon. 
 Secretary felt an iron grip at his throat, and before he could 
 realize the interruption, he was hurled over a sofa, and, striking 
 his head upon a projection of the library shelves, fell stunned to 
 the floor. Alice had fainted, and Dick Wingate stood for a second 
 between the two. Seizing a glass of water, he proceeded to revive 
 the little girl, and having succeeded, looked over his shoulder to 
 see the Hon. Secretary in a sitting position with the blood stream 
 ing from his wounded head. Had the great sovereign State of 
 
 that delighted to honor her favorite son seen his plight and posi 
 tion, doubt ess great sympathy would have been felt. The favor 
 ite son of a sovereign State, continuing in his recumbent position 
 upon the floor, let loose his opinion of his private secretary in lan 
 guage more profane than polite. 
 
 Dick Wingate would have responded, and continued the gen 
 eral engagement then and there, but for a faint appeal from 
 therescued maiden to take her thence, which caused him to 
 lift her from her chair and leave the house. That he es 
 corted her home, that he soothed her troubled soul witli 
 loving words that were received and in a manner returned, 
 followed of course. 
 
 The next morning Wingate, private secretary to this lofty 
 chief, received a summons from his master and responded promptly. 
 Wingate thought of his providential interference with great com 
 fort to himself. He remembered coming unexpectedly to the 
 Secretary, into the city ; he had hurried with his report to the 
 house, and, finding the bell unheeded, had let himself in with his 
 
THE FEMALE CLERK AT WASHINGTON. 13? 
 
 latch-key, and, moving along the noiseless carpet of the lofty hall, 
 had been a witness to all that passed. 
 
 Dick found his chief in a woful plight, with his head bandaged 
 and his eyes indicating a s eepless night. He expected from the 
 Secretary a torrent of abuse and instant dismissal. To the youth s 
 surprise, he was received pleasantly and invited to seat himself. 
 
 " Dick," said the Secretary, after a pause, " you did me a 
 favor yesterday. You saved me from an awful scrape. The fact 
 is, my boy, I had been drinking Tom Laphanrs whiskey. Tom s 
 whiske} 7 does not make a man drunk, it makes him crazy. You 
 did right to knock me down, and I wish you had gone on and 
 given me a damned thrashing. You can do so yet. I believe it 
 would relieve me from this mean feeling. Kick me ! Dick ; kick 
 me ! " 
 
 The proposition was so grotesque that the lover, greatly re 
 joiced to find the girl of his heart innocent, could not help laugh 
 ing. 
 
 " You have the laugh Dick ; you have the laugh, 7 continued 
 the high official, and it hurts more than the blow. It won t 
 do, my boy. for yon to remain here You will be a continual re 
 proach to me. There is a place vacant in Dakota, good for $6000 
 a year, with the perquisites, Dick ; healthy pc quisites, my boy. 
 Go, and God bless you ! " 
 
 Dick AVingate accepted the position, and soon left Washington 
 for his distant post. Before doing so, a little sacrament at St. 
 Matthew s Church made Alice his wife ; and, kneeling at the altar, 
 the beautiful bride returned her prayerful thanks from her heart 
 to the Blessed Virgin for protection through perilous trials. 
 
THE GREAT DYNAMITE SCARE. 
 
 NOVEL XIII. 
 
 THERE is no superstition so well fixed in the popular mind 
 that is so uufounded as that which prevails under the phrase of 
 national traits." Humanity is about the same the world over, 
 and the modification which comes of climate, different pursuits 
 and races, is so slight that it leaves man very much as nature made 
 him. The dude Absalom of Israel is the dude of to-day, and the 
 brutal man-killer worshipped in the barbarous ages is the same 
 man killer we bury in glory in this afternoon of the nineteenth 
 century. 
 
 Nevertheless, we continue to ascribe to the German, as a na 
 tional characteristic, honest simplicity, that no facts to the contrary 
 can disturb 
 
 Diedrich Von Cot f , of Von Cott & Co., Soap and C indies, 
 came in this way to be regarded as an amiable and guileless old 
 gentleman, whose word was better than an average man s bond. 
 This came of the fact that he was a stout man, of full, round stom 
 ach, and a genial, round, red face, reminding one of the Western 
 
 song which said : 
 
 When he liveri, he lived in clover, 
 And when he died, he died all over. 
 
 Only the line should read, " When he laughed he laughed all over." 
 A smile would spread o er his broad face as a batter cake spreads 
 on a griddle, and then a subterranean agitation would seem to dis 
 turb his huge paunch, and extend to all pa its of him out to his 
 chubby fingers and down to his fat toes. 
 
 The curious part of it was that this manifestation of humor 
 seemed to be of a physical origin. In his intellectual processes, 
 Diedrich was without any sense of humor. The fact is, that part 
 of his get-up was singularly serious. His money getting, for ex- 
 
THE GREAT DYNAMITE SCARE. 139 
 
 ample, had no shade of fun in it. He gave to profit and loss the 
 keen- eyed attention of serious thought. There was no laughter 
 over business. Had it been otherwise, he would not have built up 
 a vast trade out of ;in humble beginning from a shop that a stout 
 man could have run a stick through, and, shouldering up, march 
 off with. From this small beginning, Diedrich progressed until it 
 represented a million in capital, a manufacturing concern that 
 made a village of some hundreds of workmen, and so well out of debt 
 that the hard times seemed to leave the concern undisturbed. 
 
 Yet Diedrich laughed through life. He could even laugh over 
 a joke at his own expense, and his associates had one that they 
 never tired putting at him, and he never failed in his earthquake 
 of merriment in response. The joke was this : One day the old 
 gentleman stumbled over a box of candles, and went down a flight 
 of steps to the basement of his storehouse in a way that made his 
 clerks and workmen believe that the head of the firm had split all 
 to pieces. He was picked up. if I may use such an expression of a 
 man weighing two hundred and twenty-six, but could not be set on 
 end. The stout workmen deposited their damaged boss in his 
 carriage, and from his carriage to his bed. 
 
 "Ah ! mine frau," he said, with some profanity I do not record, 
 " I m kil d in mine pack." The German physician called in found 
 no bones broken, nor co:ild he discover any internal injury ; so he 
 bound up the old gentleman s head and put him on active treat 
 ment of whiskey and water. The one he applied externally, the 
 other was poured down his throat. 
 
 A few weeks after, the great manufacturer of Arnold s "light 
 and grace " I mean grease rose from his bed to a sofa, and, in 
 course of time, to his feet. But in the pedal extremity a new 
 trouble manifested itself. Diedrich s big toe of his right foot was 
 so swollen and sore he could not walk. Again the German doctor 
 made a diagnosis, and pronounced it gout. The burly patient 
 was treated for that aristocratic disorder. He was put on low diet, 
 which he violated whenever his w ife s back was turned and his 
 daughter Catrina had an opportunity to obey her father s wink and 
 surreptitiously give him all sorts of indigestible food. Of course 
 he grew no better, rather worse, and, propped up in one arm chair 
 
140 THE GREAT DYNAMITE SCARE. 
 
 he had his leg, fearfully bandaged, on another, while his temper 
 got to be something awful. Using his crutch as a weapon, offen 
 sive and defensive, he had the servants dodging about him to avoid 
 the pokes and blows, or off in their rooms bathing each other s 
 bruises with arnica. 
 
 The German physician brought in other German doctors, and 
 the solemn conclave smoked and sputtered over the irritable pa 
 tient until he drove them all out. 
 
 "Mine frau ! " he cried, " ve mid Catrina to Europe goes, py 
 tarn, und consulds mid doctors vot knows so meting. Dose Tellers 
 is jakasses." 
 
 To Europe they sailed, and from Europe he returned with his 
 afflicted wife and daughter, the ailing toe in a worse condition 
 than when they left our shores. Diedrich was not only losing his 
 genial disposition, but he was losing flesh. His cheeks lost color, 
 and his skin hung loose as his clothes. One day, a little Hebrew 
 horse-doctor, a great friend of Diedrich s, while talking to the old 
 gentleman, asked to see the gouty part. The bandages were un 
 rolled, very much with the pride that Dogberry boasted his losses, 
 or a boy shows another boy his stone-bruise. The son of Moses 
 looked long and earnestly at the swollen and inflamed member. 
 Suddenly, without a word of warning, he seized with a frightful 
 grip of his right hand the swollen toe, and threw his entire weight 
 and strength in one pull at the member. Old Diedrich uttered a 
 yell to which that of the wild Indians or the armed Confederates 
 was a mere infant. 
 
 "Oh, mine Cot! mine Cot!" he gasped, "you kil d me!" 
 And he made a pass at the little Hebrew with his crutch that 
 would have ended then and there the valuable life of a veterinary 
 surgeon had not that child of Israel dodged the blow. 
 
 "Mine friend," said the Hebrew, calmly, from the further side 
 of the room, " your dam t old toe vas oud ov joint." 
 
 So it proved. In a few weeks the old gentleman was on his stout 
 legs, as well as ever. From that out, it was the thing for all of Mr. 
 Von Cott s friends and associates to ask him gravely about his gout. 
 He would respond : " It is petter as veil/ and then the laughter 
 would follow, no one enjoying it more than Diedrich himself. 
 
THE GREAT DYNAMITE SCARE. 141 
 
 The great bulk of Diedrich & Co. s wealth came from the " Co." 
 The "Co/ was a thin, angular, misbegotten son of man, who had 
 discovered or invented a cheap soap that was fair to look at, sweet 
 to smell, and bound to remove the dirt if it took the skin. There 
 was one fact generall} r recognized, and that was that ( Id Fakin, 
 the inventor, never tried the soap upon himself. As he grew rich, 
 he bought a huge diamond, and when he put on full dress it con 
 sisted simply in placing this head-light of a locomotive in his dirty 
 shirt-bosom. No one knew when the "Co." was b^rn. I doubt 
 whether any one ever inquired. This was before the newspapers 
 went into the production of hideous cuts from their cheap process 
 that pillory everybody, and make the subject writhe in anguish, 
 and one s family and friends fairly howl in wrath. Had Fakin 
 survived to this day. he would have had his face, that was ugly 
 enough to scare horses, adorning the fifty columns of the New 
 York World, and two-thirds of the readers would have passed it 
 with a glance of horror as the head of an assassin or Jay Gould. 
 
 A solitary, miserly man, of no emotions beyond the accumula 
 tion of money, the Co. one day took old Diedrich s breath by 
 proposing to marry Catrina, his partner s only child. Had he 
 suggested to the father that the two should walk hand-in-hand to 
 the centre of the Brooklyn Bridge and then jump off, he could not 
 have been more astonished. But how is that about "Sin," that 
 we first decline an introduction to and end by embracing? In the 
 same way Von Co*t had come to regard the " Co." This Sin-on- 
 legs had grown familiar in a business way, it is true but it had 
 paved the way to the matrimonial proposition ; and the senior, 
 after recovering from the shock, began to think that it would not 
 be a bad arrangement after all. He had been worried over Fakin s 
 getting out of the business as much as he did. and now the way 
 was open. He told Fakin he would refer the matter to Catrina, 
 and he did. 
 
 This "sole heiress of his house and heart" had bloomed into a 
 German angel, such as Rubens was wont to paint. One, at first 
 glance, was struck with her large blue eyes and white little teeth. 
 Then came the delicate to notice complexion, in which the peach 
 seemed to tinge the purest cream, while her hair was light, 
 
H2 THE GREAT DYNAMITE SCARE. 
 
 and soft. Her figure was voluptuous without being coarse, and 
 altogether the little girl had a right to rule her fond old father, for 
 she was so cunning in her ways, as well as beautiful in his sight. 
 
 When the paternal Diedrich came to consider his rash promise 
 to submit the proposition to his daughter, he was not altogether 
 certain as to how it would be received. At last, however, he 
 screwed his courage to the sticking-point, and said : 
 
 " Catrina ! mine pardner, Fakin, lubs you ! " 
 
 " Well, mine fadder ! " responded the little girl, imitating his 
 broken English. " I am glad he loves something besides his 
 money." 
 
 " Mine chile, he me asks dot you marry mid him." 
 
 The girl opened her beautiful blue eyes and broke into an un 
 controllable fit of laughter, in which, vainly endeavoring to restrain 
 himself, the father joined. 
 
 " Well/ she said, recovering her speech, " you tell Mr. Eakin 
 that I am much obliged, and if he really wants a wife I ll speak a 
 good word for him to the Widow Borgman." 
 
 Again a merry peal rang out, in which the old man joined with a 
 tumultuous shaking of his stomach, until there was danger to the 
 buttons of his vest. 
 
 "Veil, veil, Catrina, I dells him, but, mine chile, I gets old 
 burty soon, and you must a husband have burty soon, too, eh ? " 
 
 "Yes, mine fadder," she said, sitting upon his knee, and put 
 ting her arms about his neck, I have been thinking of that." 
 
 " Ah, you little rogue, you aboud dat tinks, eh ?" he said, fond 
 ly stroking her silken hair. 
 
 " Yes, and I was going to tell you this very day. I promised 
 Tom I would." 
 
 " Yas ? Tom ! vot, Catrina ? " 
 
 " I mean that Tom Slater loves me, and 1 love him, and we re 
 going to be married. " 
 
 " Catrina, you preaks your old f adder s heart vot you say I 
 cannot mine ears pelieve Tom Slater ! dot veller vot works mine 
 vactory in ? " 
 
 " Yes, indeed, and he s just the handsomest, cleverest, and best 
 fellow in. the world." 
 
THE GREAT DYNAMITE SCARE. 143 
 
 " Catrina ! " said her father solemnly, as he put her from him, 
 " Catrina ! you dot Teller drops alreaty. Mine Cot ! mine Catrina 
 marry such Tellers as dot ! " 
 
 Why, father, you began in that way you know you did, and 
 Tom s just as good as we are and I IOTC him and and, if you 
 don t let us marry, Fll I ll kill myself." And the girl began to 
 weep. 
 
 Catrina, Catrina ! you stops dot. You ish Tun grand lady, 
 mid money, eber so much monies. You, a vorkman in mine Tac- 
 tory marry mid Catrina ! If dot Teller comes mine house round, I 
 hid mid a shtick ! " 
 
 The little Catrina knew the paternal author of her being well 
 enough to be satisfied that he was not only in earnest about this, 
 but that any attempt to moTe him from his resolve would be in 
 Tain. He was amiable in all small things, but obstinate as a 
 mule in matters when he made up his mind to be firm. 
 
 The little girl managed to meet her loTer and report the sad re 
 sult of her interview. The place of meeting was not poetic, being 
 in the store-room, amid great piles of boxes, containing the Won 
 derful Soap and the Superior Candles. But Tom looked enough 
 handsome to make up for all lost in that direction. He was a tall, 
 square-shouldered good looking young man, and. under his paper 
 cap and blue-flannel shirt, would haTe won the heart of Oscar 
 Wilde. 
 
 " Well, frauline, are you going to throw me OTer for old Skee- 
 zicks?" Tom asked. 
 
 Catrina had inherited something of her father s firmness, and 
 she said she d die first/ Tom sealed the TOW with a long Abbott- 
 kiss on her loTely mouth, that she held up to him with an inno- 
 cent faith of a Mather s abandon that makes her Juliet so fascinat 
 ing. 
 
 " I say, Catrina, my kitten," cried Tom, "if you ll stand by me, 
 and do as I want you, we ll fetch the old bird round in no time." 
 
 Catrina promised, and then followed a long confidential talk, 
 that ended with the little girl returning to her carriage, holding 
 a knowing smile upon her lovely face, while Tom returned to the 
 counting-room with a grin that he punctuated with no end of winks 
 
144 THE GREAT DYNAMITE SCARE. 
 
 and finger-snapping, that made old Fakin stare, and the clerks be 
 lieve that Tom had been indulging in liquor. 
 
 About that time the city was disturbed by certain socialist dem 
 onstrations of a most unpleasant sort to the solid men, who were 
 singularly prejudiced against any other treatment of property than 
 that which pertained to their possession. This culminated in the 
 explosion of some dynamite bombs under bay-windows that shat 
 tered a large amount of plate-glass and scared a truck horse, an ex 
 perienced and aged animal, to such an extent that he fell down, and 
 although much urged by an efficient police refused positively to 
 get up again. I believe the efforts of the efficient police ended in 
 setting this aged animal on his legs again. Nothing was ever 
 known as to the origin of this explos on save a significant wink 
 and a solemn shake of the head by Donovan Kossa, which cleared 
 the great Irish patriot of any suspicion as to his having any hand 
 in the violence. 
 
 The corpulent Diedrich shared with the other solid men a prej 
 udice against such unseemly conduct. But his disgust was in 
 tensified, not long after, by receiving an anonymous letter, not 
 only written in red ink, in which he was denounced as a " bloody 
 bondholder, doomed to death," but adorned with an awful picture 
 of a skull and cross-bones, over a cut of a very fat man swung up 
 by the neck. The miserable soap and candle-maker affected to re 
 gard this as " dam t foolishness/ but his hands trembled, while 
 the red left all of his face, save and except his corpulent nose, 
 that seemed to deepen in color while the alarm lasted. 
 
 Catrina seemed more alarmed than any one else, and begged her 
 dear father to send the wretches all his bonds, and not to move 
 from house or store without a body-guard, in the person of the 
 valiant and active Tom Slater. The old gentleman pooh-poohed I 
 both propositions. But, terror seized him the day after, when he 
 went to shave in the morning, and found another missive, skull 
 and cross-bone?, suspended fat man and all, beneath his shaving- 
 glass. After that he could not open his paper, or turn down the 
 sheets of his bed, without encountering this awful warning, and 
 he began to think seriously of Catrina s advice, as to a body-guard. 
 
 The troubled mind of the worthy old gentleman turned him at 
 
THE GREAT DYNAMITE SCARE. 145 
 
 last to the handsome Tom, who readily undertook the guardian 
 ship of the threatened man. As there seemed to be no let-up in 
 the terrible threats, Mr. Von Cott clung to his protector in the 
 most confiding manner. 
 
 One evening, after a pleasant little dinner-party, at which the 
 amorous Fakin appeared in full dress that is, with his diamond 
 pin to the front and several friends were gathered in the parlor, 
 the men smoking, while Catrina gave them some complicated 
 Wagnerian music at the piano, a bomb was thrown in at the win 
 dow. It was an awful thing, about the size of a cocoanut, quite 
 as round, and had issuing from a hole a blue fire that burned and 
 smoked in the most fearful manner. The women shrieked and fled, 
 the men scattered, the servants yelled as they disappeared, while 
 the thin old Fakin shot out at the door and never stopped running 
 until he gained the depot, and took passage to Yonkers. Old Mr. 
 Diedrich went down in a sitting position. The only one present 
 who exhibited any presence of mind was Tom Slater. AVith a cool 
 ness and courage that cannot be overpraised, he seized the deadly 
 bomb, and, carrying it to the rear of the house, threw it into the 
 back-yard, where it exploded with a sickening thud that made 
 Diedrich Von Cott s heart sink into his shoes. 
 
 After that all opposition to Tom Slater s wooing was withdrawn. 
 A parent will do much for his daughters happiness, and a good 
 deal more for his own safety. The lovers were duly married, and, 
 strange to say. no mor^ skulls, cross bones, suspended fat men, or 
 bombs appeared to mar the domestic felicity of the Von Cott 
 family. 
 
A STORY ABOUT BEARS. 
 
 NOVEL XIV. 
 
 CONSULT any number of boys as to their favorite animal, and 
 nine out of ten will cast their free suffrage in favor of Bruin. 
 There is something about the bear that fascinates a boy. The lit 
 tle four-year-old, climbing upon your knee, will call for a story 
 about bears, and after hearing the thrilling recital he will get 
 down behind a chair and act the part, to the mute amazement of 
 his little sister. 
 
 This interest in the clumsy creature seems to be as instinctive 
 as our horror of snakes. My earliest adventure, that had conse 
 quences of sufficient importance to procure me a paternal thrash 
 ing, and leave a life-long remembrance, came of an attempt to 
 play bear. Surreptitiously possessing myself of a hair-rug that 
 ordinarily graced the hall, I pulled it over my back and head and 
 hid behind the gate, where a beautiful hawthorn hedge afforded 
 superb concealment, and solemnly determined to scare some one 
 into fits." That "some one" happened to be old Uncle Shack s 
 horse Gunpowder, so called from the difficulty experienced in get 
 ting him to go off. 
 
 Now this Uncle Shack was an American citizen of African 
 descent, a sort of commissary attached to our family headquarters. 
 He had become superannuated at the age of forty, and devoted 
 the remainder of his colored existence to a light pursuit of vegeta 
 bles. At the time I proposed to make his aged horse acquainted 
 with bears, Uncle Shack was about sixty, gray-haired, blear eyed, 
 and with well-settled convictions, the most prominent of which 
 appeared to be that boys, as a general thing, ought to be killed. 
 On this occasion, having gathered an assortment of vegetables, he 
 stood up in his crazy vehicle, such only as a negro can devise, and 
 drove slowly to his doom. His horse had a tradition attached to 
 
A STORY ABOUT BEARS. 147 
 
 him that at one time in his past life he had been a spirited ani 
 mal. Wild stories were afloat of deeds on the road that were pos 
 itively incredible to the observer. He was, at the time referred 
 to, a living hat-rack, with nothing left of his former activity but 
 an eccentric movement in his right hind leg, that came of the 
 string-halt, and, while the animal seemed to be moving with the 
 solemnity of a funeral, this leg continued the famous old trot of 
 the road. 
 
 When directly opposite my ambush, I moved out, with 
 head covered, on my hands and knees, growling in approved bear- 
 fashion. Gunpowder at first seemed lost in amazement. He 
 stopped abruptly, stared, and then, as I approached making hide 
 ous noises, he gave a fierce snort, and actually broke into a gallop. 
 Uncle Shack attempted to arrest this by wild orders of "Whoa ! 
 whoa I" and drafts upon the reins. These last were old and de 
 cayed ; in the midst of the effort they snapped, and the aged 
 African came down in a sitting position upon his vegetables. 
 
 The fates then took command. From the gate to a bridge 
 below the mill the road was descending. Along this I saw and 
 heard the doomed vehicle roll and rattle. The race was not swift, 
 but it was portentous in its noise and grave in its consequences. 
 The wild horse of the vegetable garden, unguided, missed the 
 wooden structure, and I saw wagon, rider, horse, and all disappear 
 down a dreadful abyss of six feet. Then followed a silence fearful 
 in its contrast to the late uproar. The wagon, horse, and man, so 
 full of vigorous life and sense, seemed to drop through a hole and 
 vanish from the earth. 
 
 With that diplomatic ability that has since distinguished me, 
 I ran into the house, replaced the rug, and was among the first 
 to give the alarm. Indeed, no proof could be adduced that I had 
 been guilty of this outrage on bears and Africans, but I was sub 
 sequently thrashed on presumption. 
 
 The vehicular convenience for vegetables was fished out. The 
 horse died soon after from over-exertion, and Uncle Shack sur 
 vivedthe shock only twenty years. He dated from that event his 
 decline and death, and, retiring from business, existed on the char 
 ity of the family and a detailed account of the dreadful affair. 
 
148 A STORY ABOUT BEARS. 
 
 Looked at from an intellectual point of view, Bruin can 
 scarcely be considered a success. He lacks the keen instinct of 
 the dog and the ponderous sagacity of the elephant. He has no 
 sense of fun in his composition. He is as serious as an ass, and 
 far more stupid. Numerous stories were told us in early youth 
 touching this lack of common-sense, such, for example, as that of 
 the man in the wilds of the West who was superintending a saw 
 mill. While sitting upon the log that was being sawed, and eat 
 ing his frugal repast, a huge black bear suddenly bounced in and 
 invited himself to dinner. The proprietor politely withdrew, 
 clambering into the rafters above, while Bruin took his place upon 
 the log and continued the meal. In a few seconds the approach 
 ing saw touched the rump of the bear, and he edged forward. It 
 again rasped him, and he resented the indignity with a growl. 
 The third time he turned furiously and hugged the saw. Then a 
 contest ensued that was very lively but exceedingly brief. At the 
 end the modest sawyer descended to find a remnant of his dinner 
 and considerable bear-meat. 
 
 Again, we were assured that the common way of killing bears 
 in Hard in forests was to suspend a log by a grape-vine to a bee- 
 tree. Bruin, who is passionately fond of honey, in ascending the 
 tree would knock the log aside with his paw. The log returning 
 would hit and infuriate the bear, and, a contest arising be 
 tween the two, would bring the poor beast to grief for the harder 
 he would strike the more severe would be the rebound. Not a 
 bad fable is that to illustrate the evil which comes to the individ 
 ual who creates strife in his own heart through hate, envy, malice, 
 and all uncharitableness. 
 
 This fondness for sweets is only equalled by Bruin s taste for 
 infant pig. He cannot resist the squeal of the young porker, and 
 will run his stupid head into all sorts of traps baited with the liv 
 ing animal. 
 
 There is a certain lumpish activity about the bear that is ex 
 tremely diverting. One must not count too positively, however, 
 on his lack of dexterity. The late witty and eccentric Judge 
 Tappan once had a realizing sense of this. He, with two or three 
 companions, was boating on Lake Erie, near Sandusky, at an early 
 
A STORY ABOUT BEARS. 149 
 
 day, when they observed a bear swimming from the mainland 
 toward an island. The party, armed only with an axe. rowed in 
 pursuit. As they approached their proposed prey, the Judge 
 stood with axe in hand, intending to hit Bruin on the skull. But 
 the animal, eyeing his enemy warily, was prepared, and as the axe 
 descended he turned suddenly in the water, and with one swift 
 stroke of his paw sent it flying from the grasp of his foe far into 
 the lake. Then Bruin passed from the defensive to a vigorous 
 attack, and began climbing into the boat To take such a passen 
 ger aboard was exceedingly unpleasant, and, armed with oars, the 
 party used due diligence. It proved impossible to keep him out, 
 but by quick concerted action they succeeded in passing him over 
 into the water again. The bear returned to the charge, and was 
 again tumbled out. In the third assault the boat was so filled 
 with water that it capsized, and the adventurous pioneers found 
 themselves swimming for life. Bruin was master of the situation. 
 but stupidly declined the advantage As the party, clinging to 
 the oars, swam away, thev saw the bear seated upon the upturned 
 boat regarding their exertions with philosophical indifference. 
 
 The common brown bear of North America is an insignificant 
 creature ; and it remained for the grizzly bear of the Rocky Moun 
 tains to give dignity to the species. What an immense, fearful 
 animal it is ! We owe much to the grizzly bear. He aided, in 
 lieu of war, to lift our money-getting people to a higher level of 
 manhood. Nothing but the discovery of gold in California could 
 drag us from our counting-rooms, workshops, and fields. The 
 hazardous crossing of vast deserts and trackless mountains, the 
 fights with Indians, and, above all, the adventures with the grizzly 
 bear, developed the manhood found, strange to say, in the com 
 bative instincts of our nature. I never meet with a Calif ornian 
 now bi t I am impressed with the presence of a stronger and larger 
 man than the ordinary American. 
 
 An encounter with a grizzly bear is fraught with peril. The 
 creature s strength, courage, and strange vitality, make the deadly 
 contest nearly even between the armed man and the unarmed 
 beast. Heaven help the hunter whose unsteady aim leaves the 
 bear uncrippled. Before he can reload, the enemy will be upon 
 
150 A STORY ABOUT BEARS. 
 
 his works. When the contest is narrowed to that pass, Daniel 
 Boone s celebrated prayer, when the famous pioneer found himself 
 face to face with the common brown bear, would be a v\ aste of 
 breath. The petition is well worth puiting to record as a speci 
 men of Western humor, if not an incident in the life of Boone. 
 "0 Lord/ piously cried the fighter, in the brief pause given him 
 previous to the deadly combat between a scalping-knife and the 
 claws, "here s a-goin to be one of the biggest b ar-fights you 
 ever did see. Lord, ef you can t help me, for God s sake don t 
 help the b ar." 
 
 A friend of mine, a bold hunter from England, told me once 
 of a scrape he found himself in, while hunting the grizzly bear of 
 the Rocky Mountains. He came upon his prey quite unexpectedly, 
 and man and beast stared at each other in some astonishment, not 
 fifty yards apart. The bear exhibited no disposition of a mo Jest 
 or retiring sort, and my friend made haste to tender him a warm 
 reception. He fired with more quickness than accuracy. The 
 bullet from the heavy rifle tore away a portion of Bruin s ear, and, 
 grazing the skull, stunned the brute for an instant. The hunter 
 hastened to reload, but before he could do so the bear had regained 
 his legs, and, although somewhat groggy, came at his enemy. My 
 friend had time only to drop his rifle and spring into a tree, up 
 which he clambered with an activity worthy of earlier youth. 
 Grizzly, one of the largest, made short work of the rifle. Then he 
 sat on his haunches and gazed stupidly at the man in the tree. 
 As the pain of his mutilated ear increased, he grew furious, and, 
 seizing the pine in which his enemy had taken refuge, he fairly 
 shook it in his rage. My friend had a revolver in his belt, and, bring 
 ing this to bear, he favored Bruin with six shots. He might as 
 well have popped his lead into an iron-clad. At every discharge 
 the bear expressed intense disgust and renewed his assault upon 
 the tree. 
 
 A seat upon the branches of a tree is not comfortable at any 
 time ; but with a bear below on the watch, it may be considered 
 exceedingly unpleasant. Hours wore slowly away, with the bear 
 moving about, at times in full view, and again hidden by the un 
 derbrush. At last, about sunset, he took himself off, and our 
 
A STORY ABOUT BEARS. 151 
 
 hunter was about to descend, when he again heard reports from 
 his enemy. These were fierce growls of rage that issued from a 
 gorge near by. My friend at first supposed the bear had encoun 
 tered other hunters, but, as he heard no sound of guns nor other 
 evidences of mortal combat, he resumed his seat and listened. The 
 mysterious uproar continued, and what was s range appeared in 
 the fact that it came from the same spot. Unarmed, and faint 
 from hunger and fatigue, my friend remained all night clinging to 
 his perch ; and at intervals he heard the bear growling and tearing 
 furiously. The comical idea seized on the hunter, that Bruin had 
 stupidly mistaken some other pine for the one that sheltered his 
 enemy. 
 
 The night wore slowly away. The stars, glittering as stars can 
 glitter only in those mountain regions, passed in their solemn 
 march, while the deep forests of evergreens we:e full of strange 
 noises to which the bear added through his eccentric conduct. 
 My friend slept from time to time, and invariably dreamed of fall 
 ing, to waken with a start, and find himself clinging to the 
 branches of the pine. When a man sleeps in a tree, the muscles 
 necessary to his safety do not relax as in an ordinary sleep ; but when 
 through fatigue they are about to lose their tension, the sleeper 
 is awakened by a dream. This is one of the singular little p 1 e- 
 nomena we overlook while in search of larger ones. Who has not 
 seen a mother in a railroad car or stage-coach, holding her infant 
 when tired nature had forced sleep upon h r ? Her head will drop 
 in sleep upon her breast, but the arms will not sleep ; and when, 
 exhausted, the muscles are about to relax and let the child fall, 
 the loving mother will awaken with a start and gather her babe 
 nearer to her heart. Of the same sort is the fact so familiar to us 
 all, that when one is about to start upon a journey early in the 
 morning, and fixes in his mind before going to sleep the hour nec 
 essary to awaken, at that hour the sleeper will start into conscious 
 ness as if shaken by some friend. And I have often asked what 
 part of us it is that remains awake to guard the infant or arouse 
 the sleeper. The evidences of a spiritual life lie all about us, but, 
 like our Saviour in the manger, seem so humble and insignificant 
 that we magnificent creatures take no notice of them. 
 
152 A STORY ABOUT BEARS. 
 
 But to return to my friend. Day dawned at last, and be crawled 
 down, sore, faint, and hungry. He was about to gather up the 
 fragments of his rifle and hurry back to camp, when a fresh burst 
 of rage from the wounded bear, and issuing from the same locality 
 as during the night, so excited his curiosity that he determined to 
 investigate, and therefore crept cautiously towards the gorge from 
 whence the noise proceeded. The explanation made him laugh. 
 Old grizzly had fallen into a log trap, such as hunters set when 
 seeking to capture a living specimen. There was the last night s 
 foe well secured, and my friend was mean enough to laugh in his 
 face, while regarding curiously the wound his hastily discharged 
 rifle had made. The left ear was torn away. 
 
 Nearly a year after this event, my friend, the assistant hero of 
 the adventure, was passing along East Broadway, in New York, 
 when his attention was attracted by a sickly hand-organ that made 
 an orchestra to the show of a grizz-ly bear, with the usual accom 
 paniment of a fat woman, the anacondas, a calf with two heads 
 and an assortment of tails, and a monkey. Wishing to renew his 
 acquaintance with an animal that had so nearly closed his career, 
 my friend paid the necessary dime, and entered through a f ul 
 odor of decaying sawdust and fried sausages. To his amazement, 
 in a huge iron cage, scarcely large enough to allow him standing 
 room, was the grizzly bear he had marked in the mountains. He 
 had been carried to San Francisco, and won great renown in several 
 fights with bulls and dogs. He was now being exhib ted en the 
 Atlantic slope to admiring thousands. My friend tried to catch 
 the eye of his old adversary, but in vain. The creature s ill-tem 
 per seemed to survive his many fights and long confinement ; for 
 an awkward fellow, evidently from the interior, turned rather 
 near the cage to gaze at the Corpulent Woman, then being 
 festooned with anacondas, when old grizzly with a growl threw out 
 his huge paw with such force, rapidity, and precision, that not 
 only the back of the countryman s coat, but the seat of his stout 
 pantaloons disappeared. My friend left the place in the midst of 
 a fierce altercation between the country fellow and the showman, 
 as to who should pay for " them clothes." 
 
 The strange acquaintance did not end with this. Years after, 
 
A STORY ABOUT BEARS. 153 
 
 in a visit with some friends to the Zoological Gardens of Paris, the 
 Englishman was delighted to recognize again his former foe. Old 
 age, added to a better knowledge of the world, had not only sub 
 dued his ugly disposition, but life in Paris affected him as it does 
 all native Americans, and rendered the beast positively luxurious. 
 He received a bone kindly from his once deadly opponent, and, as 
 the weather was extremely warm, he rolled into his stone trough to 
 lie on his back, permitting the cool water to trickle over his hairy 
 head, while he lazily gnawed at the bone. This falling from his 
 indolent grasp, he closed his eyes and dropped off into a sleep, to 
 dream such stuff as bears dreams are made of. 
 
 I was once told how a bear was used to illustrate a fact in sci 
 ence. It was at an early day in the history of galvanism. A negro 
 had been condemned to suffer death on the gallows for murder in 
 Cincinnati, and some learned men announced that, for and in con 
 sideration of twenty-five cents admission, to be collected at the 
 door, for the benefit of a hospital, experiments with the galvanic 
 battery would be made upon the body of the miserable man. A 
 circus tent had been procured for the purpose, and the medical 
 savans counted largely on the profits to accrue. 
 
 The fatal day came, and with it thousands on thousands of 
 people, men, women, and children, to witness the perpetuation of 
 this remnant of stupid barbarism called hanging. From midnight 
 until morn, from all the hills and valleys of Kentucky, Ohio, and 
 Indiana, came pouring in the motley crowd of ignorant, curious 
 humanity. The taverns, stores, streets, and alleys were crowded 
 with people ; and when the sentence hour approached, the proces 
 sion that accompanied the cart made a sensitive mind sick of the 
 human race. 
 
 The better cultivated and more refined gathered in the huge 
 tent to witness the scientific experiments, that promised to restore 
 the wretched convict to life, or, failing in that, to make his dead 
 body struggle and kick in the mo?t exciting manner. The prep 
 arations were significant and startling. Near the centre of the 
 sawdust ring was a table, and by it the wonderful instrument that 
 was believed to hold the mysterious essence of life. About 
 them were gathered in groups the medicated philosophers con- 
 
154 A STORY ABOUT BEARS. 
 
 versing in low measured tones, or walking to and fro, calmly in 
 different to the gathered crowd, as great men are wont to do on 
 such occasions. 
 
 Hours wore away. The noon came and passed. The excite 
 ment grew intense. At last a rumor spread and reached the tent 
 that the sentenced man had been reprieved upon the scaffold. This 
 was confirmed by the returning crowd, that pushed in without 
 paying and packed every available space. Hisses and cries of dis 
 content broke out, and were taken up by the motley crew of the 
 non-paying audience, in a high state of wrath at being disappointed 
 in the hanging In the midst of the tumult Professor D 
 mounted the table, and, commanding silence, said : e< Ladies and 
 gentlemen, we regret deeply that a mistaken clemency on the 
 part of the Governor has robbed the gallows of its own and science 
 of a subject. It is impossible to return you your money, for so 
 many have rushed in without paying, and they would be precisely 
 the sort to demand the admission fee. We have determined, how 
 ever, so that you may not be disappointed in your laudable curios 
 ity to witness an execution and those wonderful exhibitions of 
 modern science, to purchase of Mr. Brown a bear that he has fat 
 tened to kill, hang the animal here, and then proceed with our 
 experiments. Will this satisfy you ? 
 
 An uproarious and unanimous shout in the affirmative was the 
 response. The bear was sent for. But Bruin had not been con 
 sulted, and declined the engagement. The audience waited 
 impatiently for hours. At last a great noise of men, boys, 
 and dogs on the outside gave welcome note of the coming 
 event. The fat janitor of the Medical College, a bald-headed en 
 thusiast in the cause of physic, appeared inside the entrance, tug 
 ging at a rope that seemed to be held by some reluctant party 
 outside. So reluctant was this party that twice the fat janitor 
 disappeared, pulled back by superior force. The janitor, cheered 
 by the crowd, and at length assisted by stout men, pulled the ani 
 mal into the arena. 
 
 To hang a bear without the animal s consent (and I never 
 heard of one committing suicide) is at any time difficult ; but to 
 hang a fat bear is almost impossible. The muscular neck is quite 
 
A STORY ABOUT EARS. 155 
 
 as large as the head, and on this occasion Bruin was pulled up 
 twice, and twice, assisted by his paws, he twisted his neck out of 
 the noose and came down with a sickening thud amid loud cheers 
 from the crowd that was lapidly passing into sympathy with the 
 four-footed animal. The third attempt proved the charm. Bruin 
 kicked and struggled at the end of a line as naturally as a man 
 would have done, and at the close of twenty minutes he was pro 
 nounced a dead bear by the learned faculty in attendance. 
 
 The body was lowered with some haste and placed upon the 
 table. 
 
 Professor D., getting on a chair, said: "Ladies and gentle 
 men, we have at last hanged the bear. To satisfy you, however, 
 that he is dead, we will now proceed to amputate his tail." 
 
 Loud applause followed this announcement. It prolonged the 
 show. Brown, the butcher, performed the surgical operation by 
 one blow of his cleaver. The bear never moved, but the flow of 
 blood that followed demonstrated that hanging a bear causes a 
 congestion in the tail. The battery was applied and at the first 
 shock the struggles were renewed. At the second discharge the 
 efforts were more decided, and growls were added. At the third 
 shock Bruin sat upon his haunches and gazed stupidly at the 
 audience. The audience reciprocated the attention by still louder 
 cheers. While this was going on, the subject of these won 
 derful experiments happened to get sight of the fat janitor, 
 and, while the fourth shock was being administered, he suddenly, 
 with a terrific growl, jumped from the table and ran after his cor 
 pulent foe. The ring, that up to this moment had been some 
 what crowded, was abruptly cleared. A fair field was given the 
 affrighted official, who fairly astonished himself at the r.te with 
 which he carried his adipose over the ground. The entertainment 
 was impromptu, but well regulated, and, to everybody but the 
 janitor, extremely diverting. The two were near enough matched 
 to allow even bets,, that were freely offered and as freely taken. 
 The janitor was impelled by fear ; the bear by electricity. The 
 janitor was short of wind; the bear short of blood, and it was diffi 
 cult to say which would prove the victor. 
 
 In all such exhibitions, however, certain women are sure to 
 
156 A STORY ABOUT BEARS. 
 
 be present who mar the enjoyment by screaming at the wrong: 
 moment, and then, fainting, force people to carry them into the= 
 open air. This is to be reprehended, and the women should be 
 rebuked. On this occasion, when the popular enjoyment was; 
 at the highest and the hated janitor by the way, a body-snatcher 
 was making his third round, with the bear gaining on him, 
 three or four inconsiderate women began screaming. The 
 people of that day were familiar with bears and had na 
 fear of the animal. But there was something mysteriously 
 alarming about a bear that had been dead and was alive 
 again. And so when the screams were heard a great panic 
 fell upon the crowd. The effort made to escape was fear 
 ful. Over the seats, under the seats, out through the thin 
 canvas in every direction, the multitude fled like rats from a fall 
 ing house, and in the midst of the tumult the canvas came down. 
 Out from under it the audie ce hurried, climbing on fences and 
 roofs, or disappearing down streets and alleys. Among these was- 
 the persecuted janitor. At last the medicated bear, full of gal 
 vanism, appeared and set off over the common, followed by all 
 the dogs of the country. 
 
 For many years after this strange event in Cincinnati and it& 
 vicinity, hanging was regarded with great contempt. The simple 
 folk believed that all the condemned had to do was to sell him 
 self to the doctors. "Then those learned chaps would knock a. 
 little lightning into the body, and set it on end as good as ever." 
 

 
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