I ROM SIDE STREETS AND BOULEVARDS A COLLECTION OF CHICAGO STORIES PRESERVED WHEELER CHICAGO R. R. DONNELLEY & SONS COMPANY, PRINTERS COPYRIGHT BY PRESERVED WHEELER, I8 93 . ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. DEDICATED TO CHICAGO. " But, truly, for mine own part, if I were as tedious as a king, I could find it in my heart to bestow it all of your wor- ship." CONTENTS. A VAGABOND FOR A YEAR, - ALL ON A CHRISTMAS EVE, - i 6 c A PIECE OF LAND, - - 281 POEMS : GRANDMA, . 3^ THE FROST UPON THE PANE, - 34 2 COMING HOME, 344 RETURNED, 345 FOR ONE DAY, - 34" ROSE HILL, - _ 34 FORGET ME NOT,- A VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. IN the year 1858 lived in a diminutive cottage, on the outskirts of one of our large eastern cities, a small family in rather reduced circumstances. This family differed from the thousands similarly situated in the misfortunes leading to their pres- ent condition. The father was one of the younger sons in a wealthy English family; he had been scrupulously taught the manly accomplishments appertaining to his station in life, received a liberal education, particularly in the art of spending money, and on reaching his twenty -fifth year fell in love with a handsome, highly educated girl, the daughter of a minister ; this lady brought to her husband no larger dower than her beauty and devotion. All might have been well if the young husband had not already formed that taste for ardent spirits which has been, and is, the blight of so many hearthstones. The father of this young man, whose name was Trevanion, remonstrated with him gravely on his faults; he encouraged the attachment which resulted in his son's marriage, under the impression that this tie might prove a powerful lever to work against his son's besetting sin. For a few months these hopes bade fair to be realized, as young 9 10 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. Trevanion' happiness and absorption in domestic life kept him from the gay companions who helped to lead him into excesses. This was not to last, how- ever, for when a baby girl was born to him he seemed slowly but surely drifting back to his old debaucheries the entreaties of his family, the prayers of his young wife, appeared powerless to save him. Young Mrs. Trevanion held anxious consul- tations with her father-in-law concerning what had best be done to try yet the reclaiming of her husband. She thought, reasonably enough, that entire separation from the companions of his youth, the associations of his orgies, new scenes, new peo- ple, necessity for greater exertion in the care of his family, might break up the old habits and all would end happily yet. At length it was decided that the little family would leave their fair English home to "adventure all" in a new land. With many kind farewells from friends, and hopes for their future prosperity, they sailed from that old world they would never see again, and entered on the new life. How hard, how strange the new life was at first but those first couple of years hope sang beside the door, whilst joy companioned her, for the husband and father was so kind and thoughtful ; drink that nightmare of their lives remained behind upon that English soil. Could this have lasted poverty, anxiety, even sickness, would have seemed to them but light calamities. VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 1 1 It did not last ; by slow degrees their beloved was falling into his sodden ways again. So long as his circumstances permitted, old Mr. Trevanion had given his son pecuniary assistance ; now, with increasing years upon him, a large and expensive family, and this son across seas, these allowances began to dwindle, then ceased completely. After many reverses this little family had been living for the last two years in the modest cottage where our story finds them. Trevanion's education, com- bined with some literary ability he possessed, suf- ficed to provide for their wants during his spells of sobriety ; but those terrible periods in between, when books, clothing, furniture, even food, was pawned by him to satisfy his insatiable thirst who can tell what his family suffered at those times ? Trevanion's oldest daughter, Christine, was now approaching her fourteenth year. She was plump in figure, quite womanly looking for her age ; this child was really the light of the household the gayety of her spirits never flagged, her hopefulness remained undaunted through all reverses. They called her Crissy no severer appellation would have suited the merry child - face and figure. Crissy shared faithfully the cares of their pre- carious lives. When her father's excesses drove her mother to the very verge of despondency the young girl would cheer the broken - hearted woman with the fancies of what pleasant things their future might yet hold in store for them with 1 2 FAG A BOND FOR A YEAR. promises of what she would try to do to lighten her mother's burden. Crissy was intellectually precocious. Her father, in the happy weeks of sobriety which broke his long debaucheries, read with and instructed the child; the little cottage was visited by many persons of a literary, also a theatrical, tendency, newspaper men, playwrights, many people of this ilk. Trevanion wrote for papers and magazines, reviewed the latest works of fiction in fact, turned his hand to anything where paper, pen and ink came into requisition. In addition to his other capacities he was an able accountant, but, owing to his erratic habits, could not retain such positions of trust for any length of time. In such a country as the United States of America a man of Trevanion's capabilities could readily have secured a competence had his habits been steady; even as it was he managed in those short intervals when he abstained from drink to collect some comforts, even luxuries, about his hearth. Crissy never lacked for books, for in the little parlor stood two well-filled book cases, busts and statuettes adorned the room, upon the walls a few good pictures bore testimony to Trevanion's taste. Thus the young girl, brought up in poverty, sorrow, anxiety, was in contact with tastes beyond her condition; she listened for many hours to brilliant conversations between men of exceptional talents, who, like her father, had in most cases ostracised themselves from culture and wealth VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 13 by their own excesses. It could not be a matter of surprise that this girl, who was more familiar with the latest novel, the newest play, the opera just out, than most girls of her age would be with their French grammars, drawings or water- colors, should imbibe tastes of a decidedly dra- matic tendency. Crissy therefore wrote poems at the mature age of ten, recited Shakespeare accept- ably at twelve, astonished her friends by the exuberance of her fancies in prose at fourteen; she could at all times do what was far more indispen- sable to the family comfort control her father in his wildest conditions ; she was always helpful, always hopeful, invariably cheerful, yet many a time, as she sat apparently absorbed in some fav- orite book, she was really in serious thought. This girl idolized her mother her dream by day and night was what she could do for her mother, that sweet, patient mother who bore hard fortune so uncomplainingly. She had heard these people who called upon her father tell of young girls poor like herself who had essayed to make their way upon the stage, who had secured plaudits, but, better still, fine incomes, had helped indigent friends to comfort, even to independence why should she hesitate? Those who heard her recite praised her, prognosticating, with kind looks, bright things for her future ; her father's editorial friends published her little poems, calling her a genius ; such praises have misled older heads than Crissy's 14 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. many a time. After weeks of secret thought, Crissy astonished her mother and shocked her father by openly declaring a desire to go upon the stage. The first shock of such an idea is something like the first plunge into cold water a couple of shivers then it's all right ; such at least was the effect upon Mrs. Trevanion. Her husband regarded Crissy's fancy much more seriously, expressing very decided disapprobation. He realized more fully than his wife what it was to let a child in her four- teenth year essay the " battle of life " in such an arena; but, alas! his fatal habit conquered him just as his hand was needed at the helm. One night in the fall of the year 1858, Crissy and her mother sat in earnest conversation in one of the chambers of their unpretending home ; they spoke in hushed voices that they might not disturb the children sleeping near them. " Yes, mother," Crissy was saying, " Mrs. Burton has promised to take every care of me, to teach me all relating to the profession. Mrs. Burton and her husband have been upon the stage so many years that they know all that can be known in theatricals you'll come with me to-morrow to sign the papers, then next day we'll be on the road." " Oh, Crissy dear," said the poor mother, " my heart fails me now! you are so young! and yet ' here she looked proudly at the girlish face beside her, " I can't help thinking you will do well, you have such VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. I 5 talent! such perseverance! " After a long pause she turned upon the girl a searching gaze, then said: " One thing troubles me, dear. You will be thrown in contact with so many men, young men, who will flatter you and try to steal your heart away; be careful when they talk to you never en- courage the attention of any man unless he asks you to be his wife" Here the mother's voice trembled, it was so hard to say just what she want- ed to the child, who looked at her with such large, innocent eyes. " Remember," she continued, more firmly, " that any man who behaves in a lover-like manner to you, without asking you to be his wife, insults and would degrade you ; if that happens and your heart fails you, proving weak, recall your mother's words, and then run away from him." The girl listened silently, apparently without pay- ing much attention, yet many months after, this advice recurred to her with startling distinctness. At this time Trevanion was on one of his wildest sprees. Poor Crissy couldn't even say good-bye to him she dared not venture to do so. She and the mother hastily completed their arrangements for the journey, talking hopefully together like two big children; these simple souls knew not the grav- ity of their undertaking, what dangerous shoals, what quicksands would lie along Crissy's path; to them it was a few months of study and experience on Crissy's part, then approbation and quick re- ward. The papers between Mrs. Trevanion and i 6 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. the Burtons had been duly signed and witnessed, to the effect that Miss Crissy Trevanion, in consid- eration of her professional services, should receive from the Burtons six dollars per week, as well as adequate instruction in the theatrical profession, also one benefit every six months, the proceeds of such benefit over and above its expenses to be placed in the hands of the beneficiary; in addition to this, that her traveling expenses and living expenses would be paid by said Burtons for a term not exceeding one year from date. The mother tremblingly implored Mrs. Burton to be careful of the child, then with many tears the final separation took place. It must be confessed that as Mrs. Trevanion walked slowly home her feelings par- took more of anticipation and triumph than actual sadness ; she had such faith in Crissy's powers this child was to lift them all from the " slough of des- pondency " into which the father had plunged them. Crissy had little time for homesickness, as she was put to studying a part at once, being told by Mrs. Burton that she had better study it during the railroad journey, the better to be ready for rehearsing the next day. Crissy had no need to be told twice ; she was charmed to begin her duties everything delighted her, the bustle of starting for their destination, the bustle of getting to it, the being packed tightly, like sandwiches, into an om- nibus and driven to an hotel, then, after a night of such intense repose as falls only to the young to VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. l^ sit shyly beside Mrs. Burton at the long breakfast table as that lady told her in whispers that such a young man sitting on the other side of the table, the one with red hair, was their " walking gentle- man," that the fat person farther down, with the good natured face, was their " heavy villain," that the extremely cadaverous, melancholy gentleman, with long legs, who was dressed in seedy black, was their " first comedian." Crissy surveyed these per- sons with astonishment, also some trepidation the comedian, in particular, inspired her with awe, he took his food with such an air of overpowering de- jection; when Mrs. Burton called out a morning salutation to him, he looked ready to weep, only responding with a melancholy wave of the hand. Crissy, whose appetite was excellent, soon became too much occupied with her breakfast to take more notice of these people; at a later hour the ten o'clock rehearsal, she was introduced to them all in form; the feeling of dislike with which the comedian inspired her was not lessened when she noticed him looking at her in a disparaging man- ner, and remarking that she was much too young and small to be entrusted with the part Mrs. Bur- ton had assigned her. Crissy inwardly wondered if it always made men cross and sad to play com- edy. Her wonder increased when a diminutive, very young-looking person with a sweet child -like face, was pointed out to her as the comedian's wife; a greater contrast than this pair presented, could 1 8 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. not be imagined. Crissy longed to talk to this pretty little woman at once, but was too bashful to do so ; she was unable to note her companions longer as the rehearsal of her part claimed pretty thorough attention. On her way back to the hotel with Mr. and Mrs. Burton, she heard the former say to his wife that he feared the town had not been thoroughly " billed." Crissy was puzzled as to the meaning of this. Burton added, that the result might be a " slim house." The place itself -was a lively country town where they intended playing only one night, appearing the next night in a town some distance beyond. That evening, after a hasty supper, they repaired to the large hall dubbed by courtesy a theatre. Here in the dressing room Mrs. Burton initiated Crissy into the mysteries of the " make-up;" having darkened Crissy's eyes after the conventional manner, rouged her cheeks and lips, and so forth, she proceeded to beautify herself, keeping up a continual flow of conversa- tion as she did so. " I hope, Crissy," she said, " that you'll not suffer from stage fright, tho' it is an understood thing that the harder the stage fright a woman has, the better actress she is sure to turn out." "What does it feel like?" asked Crissy, " did you ever have it?" "Oh, yes!" responded her instructress, " I suffered dreadfully from it ; you see it acts differently with different people, some forget their lines the instant they set foot upon the stage, being hardly able to get out a word, even VAGABOND FOR A YEAR, 19 when prompted ; others tell me that they have a feeling of deadly faintness and sickness when they first stand behind the footlights. But, dear me," exclaimed Mrs. Burton, " it's getting quite late, here we are all dressed, yet I hear no stir at all! " Just then came a tap upon the door, Mr. Burton thrust in his head with a very rueful countenance: "Turned out as I half-feared Lizzie- we didn't bill the thing long enough ahead. I'll be hanged if there's any audience! so change your gowns and come home." " Dear me," said Mrs. Burton, as the door closed upon her retreating spouse, " just to think that we wasted all this paint and powder!" As they trudged back to the hotel Crissy thought it all over it was such an astonishing thing that they should have no audience. That night in her dreams she was always coming on the stage with rows of empty benches in front of her and the powder partly washed from her face. The next night in the new place they met with better suc- cess; a large and very enthusiastic crowd judging from the noise they made greeted their efforts. The comedian came out in full force one look at his woe-begone countenance as he stepped toward the footlights would provoke the wildest hilarity, incessant laughter greeted his every word; when he stalked off at the stage exits his saturnine face would become more unprepossessing than ever, as shouts of merriment followed his departure. Crissy told Mrs. Burton that she didn't see how 20 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. he could do it ; the latter laughed and said, " That was acting!" Crissy did so well in the role she filled that the Burtons bestowed warm praises on her. Then the poor child went to bed tired but happy; her last thought as she fell asleep was of h^r mother. Three weeks passed in this manner, the company never sojourning longer than two nights in one place; varying success met their labors. All this time Crissy wrote home frequently, giving lively descriptions of their surroundings and suc- cesses. Of their failures she never wrote; child-like, she looked always upon the bright side, paying lit- tle attention to the occasional mishaps which over- took these poor actors; notwithstanding, she noted many things. She had been wont to associate the idea of theatrical life with something superior, feeling quite sure that the people who devoted their time to it must be more intellectual than the ordinary run of mortals now she discovered them to be for the most part quite commonplace. They interlarded their conversation with slang and strange phrases, rather repellant to her unaccus- tomed ears, they seemed so incongruous; the oddi- ties and contradictions of that abhorred comedian appeared to be repeated to a modified extent in almost all the rest. Mrs. Burton and her little daughter, a child of eight years, realized Crissy's ideals more closely; the former was a finely edu- cated woman who in early girlhood made the mis- take of running away from a comfortable home to VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 2 I marry a talented but poor actor. This woman, in spite of her environments, the many hardships she had passed through, preserved her gentleness and a purity of manner not always found in women of her condition. The child, carefully reared by such a mother, was a lovely being; with her sweet voice, golden ringlets and pretty features, she was very engaging. Crissy became close friends with her at once. The mother encouraged the affection be- tween these children, thrown by such chances of fortune into each other's companionship. Crissy in spare hours talked with, walked with, invented plays and toys for the little Leoline. By the end of the third week of their wander- ings Crissy made another discovery. She didn't know exactly why, but she had been under the impression that Burton had some means with which to push his enterprise; from a portion of a conversation she heard between him and his wife she was now led to the conclusion that this was not the case. Crissy was such a silent girl that people seldom noticed her proximity ; thus it chanced that they often spoke quite unreservedly in her presence. One day she heard Burton say- ing : "I've been lucky today struck a fellow with lots of money, and as green as a leek! he's per- fectly stage-struck! talked to me about my com- pany and said he reckoned there was heaps to be made in the show business, and said he'd like to be part proprietor in such a show as mine. Well, I 22 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. kind of led him on and sure enough the fellow had lots of cash, for he showed it to me; so we struck a bargain. He puts in all he has against my brains and experience ; he will act as our agent, going ahead to advertise and make all the business arrangements. He may be pretty good at that in fact," added Burton, reflectively, "that's about all he is good for ; he has no more understanding of theatricals than the 'man in the moon,' but it's a fine thing for us; the new partner comes in to- morrow." The partner alluded to was not seen by Crissy for a week subsequent to this conver- sation. One Sunday evening, as she sat in the private parlor with Burton and his family by the way, this was previous to the time that the public had learned to ask for Sunday performances Crissy, who sat near the door, which was slightly open, be- came conscious of a penetrating and somewhat dis- agreeable odor. There was a gentle tap upon the door; to the summons of "Come in!" a lank, ill- dressed man appeared ; every feature of his face proclaimed him what is called "low," his retreat- ing brow, puckered lips, eyes set close together, produced anything except an agreeable impres- sion. When Burton greeted him by name, asking him to be seated, Crissy knew at once that this must be the new partner; at the same moment, too, she became thoroughly cognizant of the odor which offended her it was decidedly horse. The VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 23 man sat talking with Burton for an hour. Crissy saw that during the interview, which related princi- pally to advertising and general business of the concern, this man never looked anyone in the eyes. His orbs, which were dark and narrow, seemed to be playing hide-and-seek with every- body in the room; some fascination drew Crissy's gaze frequently to his face, but he never looked squarely at her, though she was aware that he re- garded her with covert glances. After he left the room, accompanied by Burton, Mrs. Burton asked her how she liked Mr. Smith. "Not at all!" an- swered Crissy decidedly, "he is horrible! He smells so of horses!" "Well," exclaimed her pre- ceptress, in surprise, "I never noticed that! How- ever," she added with a smile, "he is not pleasant in either look or manner." As a couple of weeks passed by Crissy noticed another peculiarity of Mr. Smith's he was very seldom seen by any of the company of whom he was the financial head; he did not stop at the same hotels with them, he seemed to shun speech with any one except Burton. Owing to these oddities remarks of an uncomplimentary turn concerning him could frequently be heard from members of the company. One day the comedian, who never withheld unfavorable criticism against any one, was heard saying : "That fellow Smith behaves like a mean, miserable, slinking hound, going about the way he does. I came upon him unexpectedly on 24 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR, the street the other day, and I'll be hanged if he didn't dodge around the first corner to avoid me, actually looked scared at the sight of me!" This statement produced a general smile, for the come- dian's countenance was built upon a plan so lugu- brious that it might by a very slight effort of the imagination be supposed to strike terror or senti- ments approximating to that into anybody. There was another thing which began to press upon Crissy's conceptions this was that there seemed something out of the way with Burton him- self. In appearance he was a tall, handsome man, with aquiline features ; he belonged to the class which in those days was denominated " down - caster." He had the quick, nervous manners of his race, energetic and keen ; he was a fine actor, especially in his rendition of Yankee character not the Yankee of these days, but the " stage Yan- kee" of thirty-four years ago, the one all spring and sharpness, who came before the footlights in a pair of striped pants tightly strapped down, a long- tailed coat, an impossible hat; whose dry jokes con- vulsed with laughter an audience always apprecia- tive of them, whose "local hits" always hit just right a delightful and good- natured caricature of the typical Yankee ; this character is rapidly disap- pearing, if not altogether obsolete, from the mod- ern stage. Burton was a man nearing middle age when Crissy was put in his care ; somewhat brusque, yet kind in his manners, he treated Crissy as he VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 25 did his own child, taking pains in her instruction, firmly correcting her stage faults. Crissy became conscious of a vague anxiety in her observations of him ; first she felt this through seeing the glances his wife sometimes cast upon him searching, yet fearful, long looks, which trembled in the balance between hope and dread ; she had observed her mother looking at her father thus, hundreds of times. A thought presented itself which caused Crissy to shudder ; could it be that she had left misery and despair at her own fireside only to find herself afloat again upon that dreadful sea which wrecks home, honor, life itself ? These fears soon became confirmed, for, during a rather stormy in- terview held between Smith and Burton in the pri- vate apartments of the latter, it became unmistakably evident that Burton was intoxicated. That Crissy was so often present on these occasions was because Mrs. Burton kept the girl always near her, for, as Mrs. Burton truly and bitterly remarked to her hus- band, "the mere fact of Crissy being an actress would expose her to continual insult." The after- noon of this particular day in question Mr. Smith was urging Burton to move the company on more rapidly, saying that in the West they could play to big houses that these eastern towns didn't pay. Burton angrily denied this statement, calling to witness the excellent houses they played to in this very town, where they had been two days. Smith, 26 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. who was generally very reticent, being what is termed a "slow talker, became rather excited and anxious in advancing his views on the moving westward at once. When he found that Burton would not do it, he exclaimed coarsely, " It's easy to see why I can't get you to listen to reason, you're drunk!" Burton sprang to his feet with clenched hands and flashing eyes, his wife ran to his side to quiet him ; just then there was a commotion at the door, heavy footsteps, loud voices, Smith turned deadly pale, running as if by instinct to the window, which he endeavored to raise ; the door was thrown violently open, two stalwart policemen entered, with them a little man shabbily dressed, who held a written document in his hand. The little man called out, " Smith, alias Henly, I arrest you for horse stealing." The policemen came each side of Smith, who, turning with a savage look upon his sullen face, fronted the occupants of the room. "This is your fault," he said to Burton; "if you had gone on as fast as I wanted you to, they could not have caught me ; you can take your company where you please now ! to hell if you like. I've stolen horses right along to keep your d d ex- penses paid ! you've lived well, too," he added, with a sarcastic grin, giving a last defiant look at Burton as he was led from the room. The woman and Crissy listened to all this in silent terror. Burton ank into a chair, almost sobered by the shock. After a few minutes his wife said pointedly, " One VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 27 needs to keep a clear head in this business ; you'll have to look into things at once, Burton. Here we are living in the most expensive hotel in town ; a good -sized company, two days' board for all may be a serious matter if unpaid ; you can't tell what position this man has left you in. For my part," she continued, "I would much prefer that right along we had stopped at second or even third - class houses, and avoided so much expense." "It couldn't be helped !" said Burton desperately. " Smith was bound to have it so! He said living in style, hiring carriages, and all that sort of thing, would create a favorable impres- sion and bring in trade, as he called it! " He said this last with a grimace. Burton found his wife's words prophetic. Mr. Smith had ordered for all the best that the place afforded ; being nabbed before he had time to dispose of his last venture in horse-flesh, he had not liquidated these little bills. The landlord, being quickly apprised of the state of affairs, came at once to Burton's room to have speech with him upon the subject ; the corridors were filled with groups of people talking excitedly over the affair. Crissy felt her cheeks burn with shame as the stout, coarse, but good-natured land- lord said to Burton, " You're in a pretty fix now, with this horse - thieving fellow; you'll have to see what can be done about what's owing me and others unless you have plenty of money by you to straighten out these things." Burton was obliged 28 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. to admit his inability to do so, Smith had managed both receipts and expenditures. "The only facul- ties," Burton said, angrily, "Smith had, seemed to be those of managing money and stealing horses, though, of course, the last accomplishment no one but Smith himself had been aware of." Then Burton and the landlord summoned the members of the company into the room and held a consulta- tion on " ways and means." Crissy sat sadly in a cor- ner, listening to this curious confab; the degrees of impecuniosity confessed by all of these poor actors was astonishing ; in fact, their impecuniosities ap- peared measureless! The good-natured landlord looked from one to another in perplexity. " Well! " he exclaimed at last, "there's only one thing to do; the longer I keep you here the worse off I am. I could keep your baggage, of course, but I opine that it wouldn't be worth much ; so just go right on and play to - night, perhaps when the proceeds are divided up you'll have enough to carry you out of town ; if there's any over," he added, with a twinkle in his eye, "just let me have it on account, that's all." This being on the whole a very kind arrange- ment for the landlord to make, all acceded to it joyfully. After that functionary left the room they all with one accord fell upon Burton with violent vituperations. Why had he Burton been so short-sighted? Wasn't the man Smith a scoundrel on his very face? Here had Burton decoyed them VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 29 from their homes, perhaps from better engage- ments, to strand them in a far-away place ; what excuses could he offer for treating them this way? The comedian was the fiercest of them all. He stalked up and down the room uttering the most dreadful denunciations ; poor Crissy fairly trembled under his wrath. When the excitement consequent upon these recriminations had somewhat subsided Burton told them calmly that as they felt so aggrieved, the best thing for them to do would be to cancel their engagements with him and go their separate ways ; they knew that all along they had been playing to very poor business ; there was lit- tle hope for any better; let them then divide what they would take in this night, and separate. Two of them declared their intention of sticking by Burton, the rest grumblingly closed with his propo- sition. Fortunately for the stranded actors they had a good house that night. At the end of the performance they all met by arrangement in Burton's apartments, where the results of their last appear- ance together were evenly divided ; each one looked rather sharply after his or her share, but the wrangling of the afternoon seemed done away with. Had Burton been more reliable, they would probably, at least the greater portion of them, remained by him ; as it was they felt that they were leaving a sinking ship and had the right to do so. The two exceptions, both men, declared openly that they intended going on with him to the Far 30 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. West ; a young man named George, a callow youth, was one of them. He was a good - hearted, loud, enthusiastic talking fellow, full of hope, and really sorry for the position Burton's indiscretions had placed his family in. This ingenuous youth rea- soned with himself thus : "There's poor little Crissy, too ! what is likely to become of her? I guess I'll stick by them and see this thing through." The other exception was a middle-aged man, a musician, one of the orchestra Burton had attached to his company. This man had apparently no domestic ties to trouble him, and said merrily that he could afford to take his chances. The ensuing morning all started. The animosity they had previously exhibited to Burton had quite gone now ; the careless souls, living, as they did, " from hand to mouth," thought of this only as one of the incidentals of their lives. The remainder then hastily arranged their plan of campaign. "There's only one thing we can do now" said Burton ; " travel as a. family, that'll be quite a card tell you it's a taking thing now-a-days ; call our- selves the Burton Family." "But," urged George, "how can we play anything, so few of us, only two women and three men ; don't see how we'll man- age it!" "Just look here," explained Burton, "I'll figure it all out for you: two women, true enough, but you forget the child, she'll be a good deal to us. Bless your heart, we can play lots of things by doubling. Got plays of my own, my VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 31 boy, in MSS. ; they'll be worth lots to us ; can cut and adapt them to suit emergencies." "You're a smart man ! " cried George, admiringly ; " most fellows would lose heart, but you take hold of your difficulties in fine shape." "Then, as for orches- tra," went on Burton, smiling, "we have Snidacker here ! he can play on anything ! he'll be a host in himself; he can furnish music enough." "What," gasped George, "an orchestra composed of only one!'' 1 "That doesn't matter," answered Burton, sturdily; "remember we travel as a family now; can't afford more than one musical brother in a family small as ours. As this landlord is so kind to us, the best thing we can do now is to pack up and make for the first smart town ; we can look over some plays with a short cast, and plan out the first performance as we go along ; after a few days we can get something the child will work into for instance, 'King Charles,' in 'Faint Heart Never Won Fair Lady.' A child is very pleasing before the footlights ; Crissy will help to teach her." This being settled, the small remnant of the show was soon on the road again. All had been trans- acted so quickly that when Crissy found herself on the train once more she had no opportunity for uninterrupted reflection, for, as they journeyed along, the little party looked over plays and MSS. together, even the child, who seemed to take an odd pleasure in finding herself a working member of the group, volunteered suggestions. Burton 32 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. bent all his energies to this new task. He eschewed liquor, being the genial, painstaking soul that Crissy had first known him ; his wife was equally happy. She conversed with Crissy on the ever- momentous question of "wardrobe." She found, on their first acquaintance, that the girl was remark- ably ignorant of the art of sewing, so the older woman imparted knowledge to her in this indis- pensable adjunct to feminine learning ; together they planned many interesting costumes, where gossamer materials and wall-paper flowers figured conspicuously. From this time out they would have a good deal of such planning and alteration on account of the doubling of parts. Mrs. Burton said, " You'll learn to make these changes of dress very rapidly when you double so much ; every second counts then. It will be just as well for you to learn this ; really, you will get on much faster in understanding professional duties than if we had remained as we first started out." George's reasons for remaining with Burton have been slightly touched upon before; he had the additional one that in traveling westward he would also be journeying homeward. This youth was the red-headed one pointed out to Crissy on that first memorable morning as "our walking gen- tleman." When they made their plans together after the breakup of the company, this youth was the most sanguine of all. He talked incessantly of what they might be able to accomplish, of the VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 33 good luck they might have ; he adduced examples of what a few people had done in traveling theatri- cals. He told them with considerable verbosity that his abilities, such as they were, would be en- tirely at their disposal for instance, he might say, without incurring the accusation of selfpraise, that he was quite a hand with the brush. Give him some big paper, a brush and colors, he'd turn out posters for them that would astonish the natives. Really there was nothing more captivating to the rural imagination than posters, your big red, blue and yellow ones, that would cover a whole fence! He then proceeded at great length to tell of com- panies who had made independent fortunes by the judicious use of such conspicuous advertising. Mrs. Burton responded that such talents as George's should not be wasted, that upon arriving at their destination he should go to work at once upon the preparation of these colored productions. Crissy thought that, after all, they seemed much happier together since their misfortunes than they had ever been before. Her acquaintance with George the voluble might be said to date from this period. Snidacker the musician listened to these plans with a benign smile, saying that he would do all he could for them in the musical way, also working in on general utility. Of the private sentiments leading to Mr. Snidacker's desire to re- main with them, more will be said hereafter. Fortune, for a time at least, seemed to smile upon 34 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. the little party. As one family on the bills, they made quite a startling impression of the versatility and talent sometimes to be found in a single fam- ily. In the meantime Crissy and Mrs. Burton carefully instructed the child in the characters of "King Charles" and "Eva." At the time we write of, "Uncle Tom's Cabin" was one of the "big cards" in the northern theatres; owing to the great stir being made by the abolitionists, this play generally drew well whenever presented. It was not the Uncle Tom's Cabin of the present day. It was an eminently respectable play, in comparison with the wretched travesty presented to the public own. It was a six-act play, taking a long, some- times a very long, evening to play it through. The eloquent language, Mrs. Stowe's own, was to a great extent retained. The Eva of those times always created strong sympathy, especially when as in Leoline's case the child bore so close a re- semblance in form and feature to the beautiful original. The child learned with great rapidity; she understood thoroughly the expression she should put into her lines. Crissy was charmed by so apt a pupil, looking forward with pleasure to the production of this play by their little family, though with any amount of doubling, they scarcely saw how they could put it on. In " Faint Heart " and kindred plays they managed nicely. Leoline's success as Prince Charles was very flat- tering. When the boy's slight form, with his wealth VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 35 of golden ringlets hanging over his shoulders, clam- bered in at the window, he was invariably greeted with shouts of delighted applause. They had now by slow degrees journeyed considerably westward. Crissy was continually finding new cause for won- derment and laughter in the odd fancies of her friend George. He said frequently, "wait till you see Chicago! that'll be a treat I can tell you; I was born there." "Indeed!" said Crissy quietly, " is that the circumstance which makes that city so far ahead of all others?" George laughed good naturedly. "You can't form an idea of the splendor of my native city until you see it, it really is something to be proud of; the fact of hav- ing been born there." "/was born in a very fine town in England," said Crissy, "but I never thought of making a boast of it." " England," answered George contemptuously, "why all the cities and towns in England are old. What makes Chicago so wonderful is its youth. Just imagine it, that thirty years ago, nothing more than a few miserable log cabins and the like stood where a city is now stretching its long arms upon the lake shore." Then George went on to tell Crissy a very thrilling story, which she couldn't thoroughly understand, of how his, George's father, would have died a rich man, if some canal running through the city and projected by said father had only been accepted by the council, or by some body of men, at the proper time. But, as it turned 36 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. out unfortunately that George's father expired be- fore any of these hopes could be fulfilled, his mother kept a boarding house, assisted by his younger sister, that he and his brothers did what they could to help the old lady, hence his George's wandering life. Being convinced that he had dramatic talent, he was determined to keep on in this line until he learned his chosen profes- sion. Crissy, finding him a congenial spirit in his dramatic aspirations, imparted to him in turn some of her hopes and fears. George listened sympa- thetically, telling her to count him her friend in everything. A few days succeeding this time, the "family" lost one of its members, receiving a severe mental shock simultaneously. Mr. Snid- acker had proved as good as his word about making himself generally useful; he played touching selec- tions between the acts for them; furnished slow or fast music for the scenes as occasion demanded, came on sometimes as heavy old man. He was so quiet and reliable, that Burton often said he didn't see how they would get on without Snidacker. It chanced that the town they were stopping at had, for that very afternoon, a counter attraction, a " circus," the regular old fashioned circus, ele- phant and all! It is an odd thing that profession- als, though they abhor circuses, considered from a caste point of view, can seldom resist going to them. At that time it was a courtesy extended to all professionals, that they were admitted free of charge VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 37 to any entertainment of this nature. At dinner time, Burton and George laughingly proclaimed their intention of dropping in to take a look at this show. They went accordingly. Shortly after, Crissy was passing alone through one of the cor- ridors of the hotel when she met Snidacker. "Lit- tle girl," he said kindly, " you'd like to go to the circus, wouldn't you?" Crissy's face beamed with pleasure, " O yes," she answered. " Then run, put on your bonnet," he said, " I'll take you there right away." " I'll have to ask Mrs. Burton, first," said Crissy, rather startled by his suddenness. " Never mind then," he said crossly, "I can't wait, it's late now! " With that he turned on his heel and was gone in an instant. Crissy felt surprised, some- what disappointed, too, but girl-like forgot the cir- cumstance in a short time, not even remembering to mention it to Mrs. Burton. In this town they were making a two-nights " stand." The next afternoon Crissy was walking rapidly along the main street, holding in her hand some little purchase Mrs. Burton had sent her out for, when she came upon Snidacker again unex- pectedly. He darted around a corner, and catch- ing her by the hand, said excitedly, " Mrs. Burton sent me after you, they have changed all their plans; won't play here to-night, go by a train which leaves here in ten minutes. She told me to bring you to the train at once, so come along!" "Oh!" cried Crissy, catching her breath with surprise, " how 38 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. can it be? She never said a word to me about it when I left the hotel!" "Come on," said the man, impatiently, " the train goes in ten minutes." " Go to the train then," said Crissy, " as soon as I get the parcel I left in this store, I'll join you." As she spoke, she motioned toward a store close by. " Hurry then! " cried Snidacker, as he made hastily in the direction of the depot. Crissy disappeared into the store to emerge in an instant breathlessly from a side door of that edifice, opening on an- other street, where she took to her heels for the hotel. A few moments later she found herself panting in the middle of Mrs. Burton's room; the latter^ seated quietly at her sewing with Leoline near her, rose in astonishment as Crissy, hot and disheveled, tore into the apartment. " You are not going then! " exclaimed Crissy; "why did he tell me to go on that train? what does it all mean?" Mrs. Burton tried to calm the excited girl sufficiently to get the true state of affairs from her; the surprise of the older woman was unbound- ed. " It's a fortunate thing you used some judg- ment in this, Crissy, and came here first to make sure of the truth of his statements," said her pre- ceptress, gravely. " I will send for Mr. Burton at once to have this looked into." The looking into only developed the unmistakable fact that Mr. Snidacker had left, and that he intended to have taken Crissy as his companion, had the girl shown that implicit confidence in what he told her, that VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 39 he evidently expected she would. This turn sur- prised all, but no one more than Crissy. She did not realize how great her escape had been. Mrs. Burton looked after her more closely than ever from that time out; she also gave her some warn- ings for the future. Many and unexpected as had been the vicissi- tudes attending her stage career, this last episode astonished Crissy the most. She never wrote a word of it to her mother, for she saw from the gravity of Burton and his wife that they regarded it very seriously. Thinking it all over, she con- cluded it would be better for a time at least not to let her mother know how very different the stage of reality was to that of their expectations. The loss of Snidacker crippled them greatly; they had to have some music, and hired it from place to place. This was precarious as well as expensive. Even under this misfortune George's spirits, as usual, rose triumphant. " Wait till we strike the Far West," he said, "then we'll get big business and lots of cash! Tell you, the westerners are the people for fun and generosity; hard work to squeeze money from these eastern fellows, they are natural- ly stingy, they count every cent, they do; but from Chicago, westward, everything will be booming! " George's high hopes scarcely seemed likely to be realized, for this was an unfortunate time finan- cially for the whole world of amusement in this country. The nation was occupied by agitations 40 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. so intense, thoughts so momentous, that very little time was given to patronizing pleasure; money, too, was tight, very tight, people in the lower and middle walks of life found it as much as they could do to " make all ends meet." Amusement being a luxury, could be dispensed with; even now, the throes of that great convulsion which armed brother against brother in our civil war, began to shake the nation through every fiber; only a half interest was felt in anything which did not relate to the great topics of the day. In spite of themselves the party could not resist being somewhat cheered by George's glow- ing pictures of the West ; hope had carried them through so many ups and downs they surely could wait a little longer for the golden rewards. One stormy evening in December they arrived in Chicago and put up at the old Girard house. This landmark of Chicago has long since departed. A light snow was falling, which, mingled with the black mud of the streets, made walking horrible the air was smoky and heavy. Crissy shook with cold as the raw wind from the J v ake struck her slight figure. Leoline with a child's frankness called out: "Oh George! your city is dreadful, I don't like it one bit!" The weary party reached this point at eleven o'clock at night ; they retired to their needed rest as soon as possible; they had no intention of making a stay in the city they wanted to push right on but railroad travel in VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 41 those days was not what it is now ; they suffered exasperating delays very often in making their connections. The next morning Crissy was astir early, being anxious to take a look at George's boasted birth-place. As she stepped from the hotel the first thing which riveted her gaze was the lake. After the storm of the previous evening the morning broke sunny and clear ; far away spread the blue water, reflecting sun and sky in prismatic hues. Crissy looked at it enraptured. Oddly enough, this the crowning glory of his western home George had said little about. She then turned her footsteps along the streets, inspecting all about her with girlish inquisitiveness. As she walked slowly along George overtook her; she was on Lake street, climbing laboriously up a long flight of rough wooden steps. What an odd place it was, to be sure, for she had scarcely gone thirty feet on the level when she had to descend again; then another flight of stairs. "Well," inquired George airily, "how do you like it?" "Like!" answered Crissy, "I really can't say, it's the strangest place I ever was in!" She turned interested looks on magnificent buildings, to her eyes marvels of architecture, standing on either side of a broad but desperately muddy thoroughfare, with always every few steps this business of climbing up, then down again. " You don't like the stairs," said George complacently. "That's all right, they're just raising to grade when this street 42 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. is finished it will be the finest in the world." Crissy glanced quickly at her companion to see if he was serious; he certainly was he spoke from the depths of conviction. "Perhaps," said the girl timidly, "you may be right, I don't know much about such matters, but at present it's very uncom- fortable and incongruous. " She relapsed into silence during the balance of the walk. But not so George. He entered into elaborate explanations of all the improvements planned for the city of his love, the brilliancy of its future. Crissy finally interrupted these rhapsodies to lament that it was so very flat, not a hill in sight it would be so much prettier if hilly. " Hills do not amount to anything," said George, contemptuously, "they're only a bother! If we want hills very badly we can make them after a while. " Crissy laughed at this. They then repaired to the hotel where, after a hur- ried breakfast, they were soon on the road again. During this journey George was not as loquacious as usual owing to his intense weariness. He informed Mrs. Burton that he spent the previous night in conversing with his family about his past adventures ; having only a few hours in which to do this, he had been unable to get any sleep ; this solace he soon secured, however, aboard the train, though it was rough traveling those times. They took in the small towns along their route. An unusually severe winter was closing in upon them ; they began to think seriously of giving up VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 43 the plan of reaching the Mississippi in time to accomplish anything that winter. Now, too, Bur- ton's besetting sin assailed him again. This made their mode of living even more precarious than it had been, for at these times he was so little to be depended on that on several occasions his wife was obliged to don his costume and take his place be- fore the footlights. Nothing much was said by any- one about Burton's eccentricities ; they all made the best of the misfortunes caused by him. From the time that the remnant of the company merged into one family on the bills, Crissy had always appeared as Crissy Burton. When Mr. Snidecker took his sudden departure it was decided that from that time out it should be understood, wherever they went, that Crissy was Mr. and Mrs. Burton's own daugh- ter. George was the only one outside of them- selves cognizant of the truth; he would say nothing; it was thought that this might prove a protection to Crissy in the future; she, poor child, began to think that she really ought to write to her mother acquainting her with the true condition of affairs. Then she would steal a glance at Mrs. Burton's pale, sad face, near the pensive countenance of the little Leoline, and change her mind. Another feeling, too, moved powerfully against telling her mother all ; this \v 'as pride. It would be such a blow to the anticipations of all at home. Her time was not lost either ; she was learning more every day; she couldn't reasonably expect to gain much more than 44 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. knowledge the first year. There was more to learn in this than her mother had ever dreamed of ; no, she would go on leading this vagabond existence for awhile longer. She would not turn back at this early stage; she would remain at it until she could demonstrate her own capacities, for she now felt serious doubts ; she began to realize that possibly she had mistaken her calling ; this was the bitterest disappointment of all ; she would make sure, though, by waiting. In a large town in Northern Illinois they came unexpectedly upon some of Burton's professional friends; meeting in a locality so far from home, they all found topics for conversation. One of these friends- a gentleman named Hendricks was organizing a stock company to remain in this place a smart mining town for the balance of the winter. Our little party had so sickened of their wanderings in such inclement weather that, when Hendricks proposed they should all remain with him as salaried members of his company, they re- ceived the proposition favorably. Crissy was in her heart the most pleased of all by this change ; she was heartily weary of the nomadic life they were leading, it had curtailed her opportunities for study, beside the many hardships and exposures con- nected with it. It soon transpired that Mr. Hendricks was a man who expected the full worth of his money; the peo- ple he employed certainly worked very hard for what they received; he had the name a well-de- VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 45 served one of being a man of his word, whatever he agreed to pay or do was performed to the letter, he in turn exacted the same treatment from others. This reputation enabled him to secure good talent wherever he went. In those times, so precarious in the show business, a manager with such a reputa- tion as his was an anomaly. In order to meet every expenditure he contracted he worked hard, look- ing for his employe's to do the same ; he was stage manager and proprietor, also playing heavy busi- ness, his doing the latter was a vanity as well as an economy. He was totally unfitted in voice or figure for the part he played, his form was after the pat- tern generally denominated "squat," his hair and beard of a fiery redness, his eyes small and features heavy. As Macbeth, Hamlet and kindred characters he seemed so utterly absurd that Crissy wondered how he could have the courage to attempt them. In his capacity as stage manager he was extremely severe, he made Crissy perfectly aware of her own ignorance ; after two weeks under his direction she realized what a tyro she was ; she discovered that her preconceived notions of acting as an art must have been mistaken ; her fancy that people should act naturally was entirely wrong, that to laugh, cry, declaim, walk or faint upon the stage, must be done in a manner never attempted by people in real life ; then, too, her voice was weak, her figure too petite, her understanding of stage business very limited. On the whole, Mr. Hendricks played a successful 46 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. season through, the sagacity and honesty which years after raised him to an elevated position among his compeers stood him well through these troublous times, enabling him to make bread, butter, and some- thing more where many other men would have failed. Despite her disappointments and failures, these proved pleasant weeks to Crissy ; her time was filled by occupations of such regularity, what with rehear- sals in the forenoon, the mending of wardrobe and packing champagne baskets in the afternoon, the playing at night, and no matter how weary the conning over her lines for next rehearsal just before she retired for the night her time was completely filled. Then, too, it was agreeable to know that when the pangs of hunger recurred with that annoy- ing regularity which is their characteristic, there would be something to assuage them ; frequent suf- fering from hunger had been a concomitant of their traveling experiences. Crissy's mind being after the true feminine pat- tern, " took notes" continually; she found the per- sons she met who seemed most successful in dra- matic art most thoroughly qualified for it had been literally "born" into it; their parents in some cases even grandparents having been in the profession all their lives; of course she saw a few brilliant exceptions to this rule, but very few. Mr. Hendricks' wife, a young woman with a beautiful face and figure, was the daughter of an actress now dead who had been celebrated in her day. VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 47 Mrs. Hendricks was attracted by Crissy's youth and unsophisticated manners ; she entered into conversation with the girl, giving her sketches of her own early history. From these Crissy learned that this lady began her professional career at the tender age of six months, being frequently carried upon the stage in cases where a real live baby was indispensable ; from the time she could walk and talk she appeared in children's parts, the stage had really been her study from infancy. At the end of the winter engagement Crissy said good-bye to this attractive little lady; she never met her again, but heard of her many years afterward as a talented and successful writer of plays. Crissy thought that people like George and herself, joining the great caravan of dramatic art, seemed like the hangers-on following some big army, the army trained and equipped for fighting, did all the work, whilst the rabble rushed in to share the spoils; more and more the conviction was forced upon her of her disqualification for this sort of employment. Then, too, the women who proved successful at this had to have what might be called, " a choice assort- ment of genius;" they had to do almost as much acting off the stage as on it, they must flatter, wheedle and flirt. To Crissy's ingenuous disposi- tion all this was horrible, particularly the latter; but even Mrs. Burton who, in Crissy's estima- tion, stood nearly as high as the dear mother at home often resorted to these expedients to 48 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. smooth the hard path she trod. Her smiles, her gentle words, had taken the edge from many a landlord's righteous wrath, had gained the good will of many an impressible newspaper man. They didn't call them reporters those days. Flirta- tion, this lady explained to Crissy, was the harm- less but glittering little sword with which she cut her way to favors and leniency; undoubtedly this was the case, but Crissy didn't like it, feeling that if this was a portion of the training for public life she'd sooner be out of it. The young girl was heartily sorry when the time came for the company to break up. They were all good people most of them had been very kind to her, she had grown to look with pleasure to the meetings at rehearsal, the short conversations at the wings in the com- panies of those times they had not the strict disci- pline which now enforces silence behind the scenes. It was almost equal to leaving home a second time when she bade these kind souls good-bye. They started once more under cheerful auspices. Burton had behaved very well; their joint earnings had paid the living expenses and left them a handsome surplus to make their way with; the faithful George accompanied them, saying that it had been the dream of his life to see the Mississippi; he said to Crissy, confidentially, that, " next to Chicago," he reckoned the " Father of Waters " was the finest sight in the United States ! Hearing so much of this great stream, the girl was impatient to see it. VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 49 When they reached Burlington at sunrise one morn- ing they had their first look at it. Crissy was dis- appointed. It wasn't half so fine as she expected. " Oh ! " said George, " you can't tell by this; this is only a little patch of it ! " They went down the river about thirty-five or forty miles to a flour- ishing town on the Iowa shore. Burton had heard that this town contained a nice little theatre and amusement-loving population. As they progressed down river Crissy confessed that she had been mis- taken in her first impression, for at their final des- tination the river was grand and beautiful. Here, then, was to be their stopping place for a time. It was the month of May; the delicate verdure of the early season beautified the wooded shores on the river; the line of beach glistened with white peb- bles and bits of sparkling shell; along some por- tions of the shore great trees were standing, as one might say, knee-deep in the water, for it was the time of Spring freshets. Life and activity blew in the fresh winds about them as mother earth sent forth her call to wake the sleeping flowers. Crissy shared Leoline's delight in the panorama of gor- geous colors unrolled before them ; hand in hand they wandered along the river bank to gaze on everything with unsurfeited pleasure. No whisper of misfortune, crime and death was in the balmy breeze, no hint of wretchedness to come; the future locked up its secrets with jealous care, as the little party of friends went on to meet their destiny. 50 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. Burton began his operations immediately. He rented the theatre, which proved even better than he had been told. He got a few good profes- sionals together; these, with Crissy, George and his own family, made an excellent stock com- pany. Then he wrote to different parties to make arrangements for "stars" to come to him every week or so. This was the favorite method in the middle of this century for supplying the public with variety. It was pretty hard on those who "starred "it; in every place an entirely different support to the star, often the support was indiffer- ent indeed. The prospects for patronage seemed to justify Burton in these undertakings. The first few days in this town they put up at the best house, but Mrs. Burton's good sense soon convinced her hus- band that it would be better tc be careful of their means and go to a private boarding house. They opened to crowded audiences, though their first attraction had not yet joined them. George expressed his satisfaction over their success with his usual volubility. He reminded them of what he had said about the open-handed generosity of the Westerners. The stars came along with reasonable punctuality. During these weeks Crissy came into personal contact with some of the most famous dramatic talent of the day. Charlotte Cushman was a warm personal friend of Mrs. Burton's ; she engaged to play with them some VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 5 1 weeks later in the season, but by reason of illness was obliged to cancel her dates. Crissy was most deeply interested, however, in a certain young woman of great beauty and promise. This lady owned a voice of rare sweetness and power ; crowds flocked to listen to her singing. The way in which she rendered Irish melodies was something never to be forgotten. Her acting at that time was decidedly faulty. This was from youth and inexperience, as she could not have been much over twenty years of age. Her commanding presence she was tall, with a faultless figure her beautiful, expressive countenance, overbal- anced these deficiencies. The two weeks she spent with Burton's company was a season of continuous ovation to her charms. She showed a decided partiality for Crissy's society ; she said that Crissy made her think of a wild flower placed amidst half faded, fully overgrown exotics. She would stand behind the scenes with her beautiful white arms twined around Crissy's little figure, listening with pleasure to the girl's artless talk. Crissy in turn was attracted by this superabundance of beautiful animal life, the nightingale voice, the mesmeric kindness of the lovely woman. Ten years later she learned that this living embodiment of grace and genius died a raving maniac in one of the asylums of her native state. The late summer was upon them, and business getting very slack. At that hot season of the 52 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. year most people who could manage it spent a few weeks farther north; the lively town was compara- tively empty now, but a greater trouble than the slackening business came to them. Burton who had for a little time been "tippling " went on one of his wildest sprees. He neglected things entirely, defy- ing control of any sort. George essayed reason with him, even pleadings, but uselessly. The demon drink, whose victims, once millions, can now scarcely be counted they are too numerous for that held sole sway over an intellect, which, had it not been for this vile habit, would have made its possessor a "light in the land." The lease of the little theatre had to be closed prematurely, with the lessees something in arrear ; worse yet, they found a board bill increasing on them ; they knew not which way to turn. George searched the town for work of some kind, no mat- ter what ; to earn their bread he would do anything within his power. Just as things had reached the darkest point Burton regained his senses again, to find his family reduced to a shocking predicament by his folly. For a few days succeeding Burton was very ill, as men generally are after excesses. The first day that, pale and shaking, he crept from his bed and regained his feet once more, George rushed in excitedly; he had been absent a couple of days in his hunt for work. "It's all right," he shouted, "lots of work to be had outside of this in the harvest fields ; men scarce ; wages VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 53 high ; you and I," this to Burton, "will go to work at once and save the others from starvation." The kind-hearted fellow danced around for joy. The landlady, who was a widow, pushed a fat, puckered and sour face in the doorway, and hearing what was going on, reminded them of their indebted- ness to her. " Now, my good woman," said George, persuas- ively, "what we already owe we haven't a cent to pay, but we'll go to work at once and pay for these from this time," pointing to Mrs. Burton and the girls. " We will keep you paid for their board right along ; just as soon as we get on our feet again we'll pay you what is due." The woman looked at him with flashing eyes, then making a hasty stride to the middle of the room said, "No you don't, mister! you'll not cheat me out of my board bill that way; you think you can skip and leave me in the lurch, but there," (pointing toward the two chambers occupied by Burton's family) "are your trunks and baskets. You'll give me them things for security; I'll keep 'em too till the back board is paid." "Impossible!" cried George, aghast, "why we wouldn't even have a change of linen! besides they would be comparatively worthless to you." "Look here!" said Burton to the woman, "you would keep from us the tools with which we work in our profession ; what could we do without any wardrobe? As for a lot of muslin trash, covered 54 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. with gold lace and spangles, being of use to you, that's sheer nonsense!" "Yes," answered the woman with a cunning leer, " that's true enough, but it's of great use to you; you 1 II need it; you'll raise heaven and earth to get it, and manage to raise what's owing me." " You talk like a fool! " said Burton, impatiently. "If I know anything of law you couldn't take such security anyhow, as nothing belonging to me individually is there ; the man is the party held responsible in these cases." This was true, for it happened in the recent con- fusion that Burton's wardrobe, and even manu- scripts and plays, had been left in the property room of the theatre. " I don't care," said the woman doggedly, "you shall go yourselves; I'll not feed you a day or an hour longer, but your belongings don't leave this house if I know my- self. You calling me a fool, too!" with a blazing glance at Burton and a shrill raising of her voice ; "you, a drunken sot! bringing your fine lady wife and stuck-up girls to steal a poor widow's bread!" George trembled with rage when he heard this. Burton said, angrily, " Put on your bonnet, Lizzie, we'll go down the street to Lawyer Haley's office and consult him at once on this matter ; you stay there" looking at Crissy, and waving his hand toward the door of the chambers occupied by them. " Come with us, George, and help unravel this tangle." Just then a childish voice piped out, "Let me go, too, papa!" Leoline had been VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 55 noticing all that passed, and felt afraid of this cross, fat woman. "Come along, then," said Bur- ton, hurriedly. Crissy, with her eyes full of tears, retired to the chamber, where she sat upon the broad old-fashioned windowsill and watched the rest walking down the street in anxious consulta- tion. What would her mother think could she look in upon her now? This episode seemed to Crissy even worse than the horse-thief one ; always this way just as things began to look bright to them this awful drunkenness laid all waste. Her melancholy reflections were interrupted by the harsh voice of the landlady at her door. " Miss Burton," she said, " there's some one at the front door wanting to see you in a hurry." Crissy sprang to her feet and ran from the room unsus- pectingly ; she opened the front door, no one was there ; she heard a clicking sound, a lock turn- ing ; she looked around there was the landlady locking the chamber door ; she placed the key in her pocket and said with a disagreeable smile, "Now I've fixed you!" "What do you mean?" asked Crissy, bewildered. " I mean," said the woman, " that I've got your trunks and all for keeps ; pos- session is nine points of the law ; I rather think I'll hold possession." "Oh!" cried Crissy, wring- ing her hands as the truth flashed on her, " what shall I do!" "Go," said the woman, "and tell that precious father of yours that I've got the bet- ter of him!" She had no more than spoken when 56 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. Crissy was on the street, bareheaded, running to the lawyer's office. She ran in and told her story ; they all regarded her for a few minutes in silent consternation ; then Burton, being in reality the one most to blame, upbraided the girl sharply ; she wept. "Never mind, Crissy! "said George, "it's not right to blame you ; none of us thought to tell you to be sure not to leave that room on any account." "That's true," said Mrs. Burton, " we should have explained it to her before leaving her alone there." The lawyer was listening atten- tively, but with a contracted brow." "See here!" he said to them, " there's no time to be lost. If none of your property," addressing Burton, " is there, we must take an affidavit from your daugh- ter to that effect I don't know that your wife's testimony could count. Come here," continued the lawyer, looking at Crissy. She crossed the room and stood in front of a kind of railing with a desk inside of it. "Put your hand the left one on the book." Crissy, not knowing in the least what it all meant, but following the lawyer's eyes, which rested on a small black book, placed her hand upon it as directed. " Now raise your right hand." Crissy did so. " That's all straight," con- tinued the lawyer briskly. "Now we'll get out a search warrant at once and replevin the goods, if we are in time. You may be sure that woman is not idle ; I know her well ; she's a hard one. If whilst we are fooling here she gets the things out VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 57 of the house and hidden, we can't help ourselves." What the lawyer apprehended came to pass. By the time the search warrant was out and an officer procured to serve it law in some cases seems specially adapted to frustrate justice- the land- lady had removed every vestige of the property belonging to the poor players. A thorough inves- tigation of every corner of the house failed to reveal even a shred of it. The family had repaired with the officer to the landlady's house ; they all stood in the parlor anxiously awaiting the result of the search. When informed of its uselessness, despair was stamped on every face ; the landlady contemplated them with a sardonic smile. Crissy was desperate. " It is all my fault!" she cried ; then running to the landlady she caught that person's big, hard, right hand in both her own and said: "Oh, let me work it out; take me into your kitchen to wash dishes, scrub, do any- thing until the amount is paid ; only let them have their clothing." The woman gave a derisive laugh. " You" she answered, "a little fine lady in the kitchen, much good you'd be. No, no, you'll never get them till you pay, so be off!" The little group turned into the street without the faintest notion where they would go. " Let's go to the theatre," said George, "the offices are open ; if not, I'll get the keys ; we can talk it over there." 58 'VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. Having nowhere else to go they took his advice ; they walked sadly enough to the broad flight of stairs leading to the vestibule which opened the way to the disciples of Thespia. On either side, at the head of these stairs, stood the offices, large, high ceilinged rooms with windows facing the main street. They sat down wondering where and how they could live. "Tell you what," said Burton, "you and the girls must stay right here, Lizzie ; we'll all go up into the property room and look around there for furniture ; we can get benches and cushions to make beds for you and the children." "That's grand! " said George gayly, "we can find lots of things for housekeeping ; here's a stove, too, to cook the meals on ; " he pointed to one of those long -shaped stoves adapted to the burning of extra large sticks of wood ; near it was a wood box with a few sticks left in it, "lucky it's warm weather, we'll fix things up firstrate for you ; we must leave here the first peep of day to-morrow morning to start work for our farmers." They found many things in the property room for their wants ; even some corn meal and a few potatoes. It happened in a play recently per- formed by them that an Irishman by one of those remarkable vicissitudes of fortune common on the stage became a Rajah somewhere in India, and when asked what he would have for dinner he demanded "praties," and the real article VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 59 had to be produced to satisfy him. They managed quite a supper for all by making some corn meal mush and boiling the "praties." With the last small coin he owned, George purchased a loaf of bread and some salt. The poor things had quite a pleasant meal set out in the dishes with which Claude Melnotte's mother had her simple supper table laid when she was expecting that hero home. Leoline enjoyed the novelty when her mother tucked her into the improvised bed formed of theatre benches and crimson cushions ; she said it was ever so much nicer than living with that cross woman. The next morning, as day was breaking, Crissy woke from slumbers which had been sound despite her strange surroundings ; she remembered at once that the men would be starting for their new occu- pation. She dressed rapidly and noiselessly, not to disturb the sleep of the weary woman and child. Stealing softly from the room she endeavored, from the scraps of the evening's supper, to prepare a meal. The corn meal mush slightly warmed over, with a few cold potatoes, made an indifferent repast, but George, gay as a lark, assisted Crissy with the breakfast, giving at the same time a description of how he and Burton had slept in the auditorium of the theatre, and how, upon the stage lighted by the moon shining through an open doorway in the rear, they saw the rats come out to give a very private and select performance. 60 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. "I assure you," he said, "that they made quite a large company ; if I had not been so sleepy I should have enjoyed watching them immensely." The men soon departed, but not before Burton had tip -toed into the room where his wife and child lay sleeping, there, rinding his wife awake, he kissed her tenderly and bade her be of good cheer, telling her that as soon as they could earn and get some money paid them, he would bring it with all speed to her. Then with moistened eye- lids he strode rapidly away. This man, when sober, was the gentlest, kindest soul who ever breathed ; this sweetness of nature, which showed so strongly in his periods of sobriety, was the invisible chain which held the patient woman true to him through shame and starvation in the terrible years of their wedded life. George gave Crissy a friendly good-bye shake of the hand, looking meantime into her eyes a very long and earnest look which the young girl scarcely heeded, certainly did not understand. Shortly after the departure of Burton and George, Mrs. Burton joined Crissy in the room where they had breakfasted ; the child was still sleeping. Upon the table, where many a ticket seller and treasurer had beguiled the tedium of the evening performances by games of cards, lay the remnants of the breakfast, consisting of a handful of raw corn meal and the "heel" of the loaf of bread ; the bread would be about two slices. The VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 61 woman and girl looked each other squarely in the eyes ; from the two pairs of eyes looked the same thought ; that thought was the child! " Give her a part of the bread for her breakfast," said Crissy, "the rest will do for dinner time, when she hungers again." Crissy looked at Mrs. Burton for a suggestion. Mrs. Burton sat down with her hands folded in her lap, thinking deeply ; Crissy regarded her with silent attention. People in sorrow and perplexity do very little talking ; anticipation and happiness are always loquacious. After what appeared to Crissy a very long time Mrs. Burton said, in a voice which had a tremor in it, "There is nothing I can do just now; the burden must fall on you; I am so ill and weak this morning that it is hard to walk even a few steps, yet something must be done, or we will starve before help comes ; to beg is terrible ! but it can- not be a shame to beg for work; you are so young and helpless looking that they will be more inclined to assist you then they would me ; if we could get some sewing to do, we could, between the two of us, at least earn our bread until the men get back." "I will do it, "said Crissy, sturdily; "just tell me how to go about it; let me start at once!" Mrs. Burton smiled sadly at her eagerness. "It will be best," she said, "to leave the business por- tion of the town, and, walking along the residence streets, go from door to door, asking them to give 62 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. you work to do, stating to them plainly and truth- fully the circumstances; telling them, if need be, that we cannot earn our bread by our profession just now, as our wardrobes have been taken from us. Tell them that we can do almost any kind of hand sewing, that we will be very thankful to get work." At the period we write of, the sewing machine was a comparatively new invention, very few of them being in general use in the Far West. Crissy was all anxiety to start at once ; but what should she put on her head? The broad brimmed hat she was in the habit of wearing was locked up with all the rest by that hateful woman. She had to don the matronly little bonnet worn by Mrs. Burton. This was of course more respectable than going bareheaded, but was useless in warding off the rays of a burning sun from her face. It could not be helped ; so Crissy, with a brave assump- tion of cheerfulness, trudged off. Crissy having had no experience in this sort of r61e, started out with a stock of hope in her active little brain. She walked quickly up the main streets to those outlying ones where well-built houses, surrounded by trees and gardens, stood in- vitingly. She trembled and blushed at the first door where she made her humble application. A stylishly dressed young female opened it. She re- garded Crissy with inquiring eyes, the expression of which changed to strong disfavor when she VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 63 knew the nature of her business. She said with great decision that they did not require to give out any sewing, as they had reliable and respectable per- sons employed upon it in the house. Crissy turned away, more dismayed by the tone and look than the blunt refusal. She called at fully thirty houses or more during the blazing forenoon with the same discouraging result. Then, being quite worn out by the heat, lack of food and drink, she sat under the shade of a tree to cogitate. Crissy, drawing upon the memories contained in her life of fourteen years, found staring her in the face one indisputable fact, this fact being that rum was the cause of all the misery she had known in her own experience, as well as that of those around her. She was too young as yet to reason out that as every sickness in nature has its palliative and cura- tive medicine, so must this awful vice have some- where in the wide universe something to counter- act it. If you had asked her, at that immature age, what she would do about it, had she the power, she would have answered instantly, "Abol- ish every form of intoxicating fluid; put it where men can't get it; that is the only cure." Then when you told her, gravely, that it was an impossi- bility, because it would destroy the " revenues of her country," how astonished she would have been. How much more astonished when you supplement- ed this statement on "revenue" with the old famil- 64 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. iar twaddle about the redeeming power of " home influence." Think of Crissy swallowing such pap as that after her own experiences. This idea of "home influence," as a saviour from the liquor habit, has been refuted over and over again. How many thousands of true-hearted men and women have clung to this faint hope, this very straw, only to see those they loved best pass to their dishonored graves victims to the last of this frightful practice. One of the most earnest men of our age, who has examined this subject thoroughly, tells us that "nine -tenths of our pov- erty, squalor, vice, and crime, spring from this poisonous tap-root." Think of it, nine -tenths; and yet, what efforts ha/e we made, or are we making, against this devastating sin? The rum- shops stand in close array about us, tempting our poor fallen creatures at every hand ; we try by heavy licenses to control the increasing sale of in- toxicants. It has been demonstrated how little that course avails. The struggle waged against intemperance in our times has many pathetic features. When women, rendered desperate by their increasing agonies, rushed upon this hydra-headed monster, endeavoring by force to kill it, an unthinking multitude stood by and laughed, as despairingly these women tore open the hoards of the rum-sel- lers and threw the fiery liquids in the dust. Such futile attempts may have possessed a certain grotes- VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 65 queness, but they are dignified as the expression of a righteous, albeit impotent, wrath. Alcohol is the torch which lights treason and anarchy to their deadly work. With that removed, you would need no armed detectives ; no troops. Reason, unclouded by the fumes of liquor, would listen to reason. If the labor question is to be the great question of the day, as many say it is, it will be met far better when sobriety is the rule not the exception. Talk of agitators! there is no agitator whose influence can equal that of whisky. Crissy found that chewing the bitter cud of reflection was not likely to help her toward getting food ; she rose wearily, very dejectedly now, to essay the task again. At the different houses she had plaintively stated her case thus : She wanted work ; she needed work because those she loved were suffering for food. She had not told the story of how they happened to be in this predicament, for this would involve the mention of their pro- fession. Crissy felt some lately-born instinct within her which kept her from telling all unless posi- tively necessary. The day was advancing ; by this time Leoline would have eaten the last mouthful of that precious piece of bread, where would the next come from? Strengthened by this anxious thought, Crissy went on. At the first door a middle-aged matron appeared ; a number of giggling young women, eager to hear what was going on, pressed behind her. Crissy 66 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. began to make her application for work and state her case ; the middle-aged lady listened with interest. Crissy, feeling encouraged thereby, stated the whole case. She was painfully conscious that the faces in the rear began to look scandalized ; the middle-aged hardened visibly, and said it was a very peculiar story; she might call at the theatre next day, look into it and see what she could do. As the door was closing Crissy could hear one of the young women say scornfully, "That play-acting girl!" Crissy tried not to cry, but the tears rolled down her hot cheeks. She thought, what am I now? a mere vagrant! a vagabond on the face of the earth! Ah, what would her mother think of this, could she see her now? Nothing could have in- duced her to go on after this rebuff save the thought of the feeble woman and little child ; she felt that to lie down in a remote corner of some unnoticed place and starve to death would be easier than to beg work from these hard-hearted ones. She had sometimes before this suffered hunger in her own home, but she had not been exposed to sneers or insults. Go on she must ; her story in most cases met an incredulity masked by a veil of cold politeness ; in other cases with open insult, particularly when she spoke to men more particularly when these were old men. If Crissy had realized the import of the glances these old men cast upon her she would have thrown herself into the river sooner than run the gauntlet VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 67 of such dreadful insults! Her innocence was the thick wall which stood between her and this knowledge. The stage was unjustly regarded as a degrading institution. At that time there was scarcely a pulpit in the land which did not thunder forth denunciations against it ; respectability pulled its cloak very closely around it when anything connected with the drop curtain and footlights passed near. We think a more liberal, certainly a more Christian spirit, prevails now. The blazing sun, which had nearly blistered poor Crissy's face, was traveling quickly to its rest. She had accomplished almost nothing. At her last stopping place a sallow-faced young matron, with an infant in her arms, had listened rather kindly to her. After a long spell of thinking, this matron had placed her baby in its crib and brought to Crissy a piece of white work she would like done; also a tiny package containing perhaps a quarter pound of tea. By the way, this work was a night gown, woman's size, to be embroidered around the collar, sleeves, and down the front after being made. Some days later the matron paid Mrs. Burton the munificent sum of fifty cents for this piece of work and the tea aforesaid. Crissy accepted this help very gratefully, though she felt some doubts as to the tea satisfying those places which needed filling, she was too afraid of degenerating into utter beggary by saying how much sooner she would have bread than tea. Then 68 VAGABOND FOR A YAR. she trudged forth once more ; as she looked about her, she thought very sadly that the town and river never seemed so pretty before, the town with its white streets. Upon these nicely graded streets a very white stone finely crushed was spread, making a beautiful contrast to the green of trees and lawns, which sloped gently down to the levee, and beyond this lay the broad river, blue and silent, holding in its translucent depths the mirrored shores. Crissy trembled with fatigue and faintness as she gazed. "Ah!" she groaned wearily, "how can things be so lovely in this world of sin and trouble!" She made her way to the main streets ; her thought was always no food, no food. How could she go to those waiting ones without it? As she was passing a large church its broad stone steps invited her wearied frame to take a few moments rest. She sat down despondently ; she was too tired to even think. How, after a melan- choly interval, the idea came to her, she never quite knew, perhaps it was from a longing for her mother. She remembered in a hazy, dim way, that no one had called at the postoffice lately. She had failed to procure food, perhaps she could get letters. She dragged her tired limbs to the postoffice. A supercilious young man at the little window looked at her impudently, and hardly troubling himself to search, said carelessly that there was VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 69 nothing. Crissy turned away silently ; there was such a plaintive limpness in her young figure, such wretchedness in her burned, tear-stained face, that the young man, after another look at her, seemed to receive a nervous shock, which caused him to search again, with the result that he ran out, just as she stepped from the door, with a letter in his hand. Crissy looked and saw joyfully that it was her mother's handwriting ; she had not heard from her mother for a number of weeks. She sat down on a step in the street; then, heedless of inquisitive glances, opened it. Something dark was carefully folded into the letter. Crissy drew it out ; bank bills! Here then was food for the starving ones! Crissy was astonished beyond measure. Why should her mother think of sending her money? She would read later on and see ; but now to the nearest baker's. With help in her very hands Crissy's despair was gone, and her healthy young appetite revived. It did not take her long to obtain enough to make a hearty supper for three. Just as the sun was sinking she turned her steps, quickened now by the joy she was bringing, up the stairs of the thea- tre. A childish voice was calling " Crissy " the minute she had mounted the first three stairs. "Dear, dear Crissy!" cried the child, excitedly, " have you come at last ? The day was so dull without you ; poor mamma was so sick, and I am so awfully hungry, only I didn't tell mamma that /" 7 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. Crissy laughed, showing her the bundles. They entered the room together. Mrs. Burton sat in one of the big office chairs quite colorless from her long fasting. It was no wonder; she had not tasted food for twenty-four hours. Crissy was too wise to do any talking till, with Leoline's assist- ance, the supper was spread and a strong cup of tea made from that precious little packet. Then she and Leoline went to the nearest milkman for a few pennies' worth of milk, and the feast was ready. How gladly the child, how thankfully the woman and girl, partook of this simple repast we need not tell ; very little was said, but sometimes Mrs. Bur- ton would look across the small table at Crissy with glistening and grateful eyes. When the meal was finished Leoline neatly cleared away the remnants and washed the dishes, declaring that Crissy was too "awfully tired" to do anything but rest. Then Crissy read her letter, where the meaning of the bank bills was fully explained. By the time she received that letter her father, mother, and the rest of the family would be living in Chicago. The father had been offered a lucrative position in the growing metropolis. His wife urged him to accept it, as it would take them nearer to that West where Crissy was. The mother, after four pages of home details so interesting to a young girl, added a postscript, in which she said that in a few months more it would be a year since Crissy left home ; that they all yearned to see her ; that VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. ^ l the enclosed bank bills were to pay Crissy's expenses home as soon as Mrs. Burton thought it would be a convenient time to let her come and visit for a few weeks. Furthermore, that the father was behav- ing admirably just now, and they all felt very happy. Crissy held the letter in her hand with a conflict of feelings. So strange that her mother should think of sending her money for this pur- pose. Could her mother have any suspicion of the trials surrounding her ? She had been so careful never to hint a word concerning them. Oh ! Crissy ! Crissy ! you did not know a mother's love, her intuitions. Your studied descrip- tions of your journeyings, your experiences, couldn't deceive that tender, watchful intelligence. She knew that something must be wrong, and tried with a woman's delicate care to get at the root of it without seeming to question. Crissy didn't puzzle over it very long, it was delightful anyhow that her own dear mother had been that ministering angel who lifted her from the depths. It may seem strange that when Crissy first received this unhoped assistance she did not fall on her knees immediately in thankfulness to God. It must be remembered that she was very hungry. It is likely that when the children of Israel found the manna they fell to eating first and praising afterwards. When Leoline was sound asleep the woman and girl sat together as Crissy, in low tones, recounted 72 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. the incidents of the day. To Crissy, looking back upon it, it appeared the longest day she could ever remember, so much of varied feeling was crowded into it. Mrs. Burton listened with compressed lips and flashing eyes as the girl frankly told her the many insulting remarks addressed to her because of her profession. " It is so ! " said the older woman, sadly ; " every ruffian feels himself licensed to insult an actress, no matter how good she may be ; how care- ful in her actions, she is made the target of low innuendo. From the minister of God down to the layman she is held up as an object of derision; it is a shameful fact." She sighed as she spoke. The next morning, at five o'clock, when the child lay wrapped in slumber, the two women sat sewing on the long white seams of the nightgown. Mrs. Burton said, with justice, that Crissy's mother, hav- ing sent that money for a certain purpose, it was their duty to try and hold it for that purpose, replacing as soon as they could the amount taken from it; for though it could undoubtedly be consid- ered in the light of a divine providence, they, on their parts, must not take too full advantage of that providence. Crissy coincided with this. She was far too active in mind and body to want to lean too heavily on providence or anything else. When the child, awakening, saw the women busily employed, nothing would do but she must get the breakfast ; so, with a large piece of bagging VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 73 in lieu of an apron tied around her, she went about it with much clatter and laughing. Crissy, how- ever, built the fire, saying that was too much for Leoline's strength. As the long summer day was wearing to late afternoon, and the slanting rays of the hot sun glanced scorchingly through the big uncurtained windows of the offices, the women rested a little from the weary sewing. At this period came a verification of the saying that God helps those who help themselves. Over from a dry-goods store, directly across the street from them, stepped a kindly-faced young man with a large bundle in his arms. He tapped gently at the office door. Crissy admitted him. He hoped he was not guilty of an intrusion, but he under- stood that they wished to secure some sewing. He had some netting there he would like them to make up. In the Mississippi river towns they frequently canopied their beds with fine netting, as the mos- quito of that famous stream is renowned for the fierceness of its sting. He gravely unfolded the work, explaining how the pieces, already carefully cut, should be joined ; then he named the sum he was willing to pay for it, which sum appeared to the ladies startling in its liberality. Crissy listened with the ready belief of youth ; the older woman compre- hended at once that the work was really a delicately veiled gift. When the youth departed little Leoline ran to the window to watch him as he crossed the street, meantime pronouncing him "a darling." 74 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. In a few minutes came another tap at the door. There stood a little, faded, sunken-eyed woman, who looked so brown and shriveled that she was exactly like an overdry bean pod; she proceeded to shake each of them warmly by the hand and to tell them, in a feeble voice, with a strong nasal twang to it, that she was proprietress of a shirt manufactory a couple of doors from them ; that she understood they wanted work ; that she ran a sewing machine. She said this with a tinge of pride, a sewing machine was quite a possession then, when they were high-priced and scarce, that she could give them plenty of fine button- holes to make and gussets to set. It need scarcely be told that they accepted her offer very gratefully. As soon as she left the woman and girl looked at each other with a world of meaning in the look. They realized that Crissy's day of hopeless applications, her wretched trudg- ings from door to door, had brought forth fruit at last ; that the longed-for work should come from the business part of the town, from people at their very doors, seemed to them surprising. They should not have been surprised. We never find our blessings, any more than our sorrows, in the spots where we look for them. Short-sighted humanity is always searching in the wrong places for what it wants. Thus ended the second day of their housekeeping in the office rooms of the theatre. VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 75 On the third morning Mrs. Burton laid out an organized as she called it plan of work. This was, two hours' sewing before breakfast ; then Crissy and Leoline went out and purchased the day's pro- visions ; then breakfast, then work again until one o'clock ; then th'e light repast which served for din- ner ; then work until sundown. As they sewed the child busied herself with the cares of their very light housekeeping; she often amused herself inves- tigating every portion of the auditorium, the prop- erty-rooms, and those loft-like places where the scene painters used to do their work. Many a fan- tastic drama did the child dream and play out by herself upon the forsaken stage; many an airy dance she executed to the music of her own hum- ming voice. The woman and girl often sat at the back of the stage as the child played ; they sat with their sew- ing at a door, which, opening at the rear of the stage and third story of the building, was closed across its lower part by wooden bars to pre- vent any one from falling out, for this door had no stairway on the outside. From it they looked down upon the broad river to where the other shore, a mass of verdure, gazed at itself in the rippling water; they frequently sat here with their work to enjoy the refreshing cool- ness of what breeze happened to be stirring, for the weather was intensely warm. Many a time at sunset the girl would lean against the bars of this 7 6 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. door, and looking pensively across the water, almost fancy she could see her mother a grace- ful figure, with soft, dark eyes and blackly-falling hair step gently over the watery chasm to come to her. The child played out her day dreams on the empty stage ; the girl brought her's out in the sunset light and kept her courage up by the pleas- ing fancies her affections evoked. The days wore on to nearly a week of their strange housekeeping, yet not a word or sign from the men who had gone to the harvest fields to earn them sustenance. Mrs. Burton remarked that if they had been content on their parts to remain supinely waiting for that assistance, they .would have had a long wait of it ! In the meantime they received ample help in the way of employment. For a wonder, no one appeared to remonstrate with them on the forcible possession they had taken of their odd lodgings; they had suffered some natural forebodings on this score. Perhaps the owners of the property, hearing of their forlorn condition, had concluded not to interfere with them. " Well," said Mrs. Burton, as they sat diligently sewing on the morning of the sixth day, " I hope we will soon hear something of Mr. Burton and George. Now that we have, for the present at least, solved the enigma of how to earn our bread, I begin to feel some anxiety on their account." " You needn't, mamma," said Leoline, confi- VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 7 7 dently; "they are all right; it's easy for a man to come out all right." Mrs. Burton smiled at the child's implicit faith in manhood. The afternoon of that day brought them a great surprise. A dray stopped in front of the theatre; a stout drayman alighting from it, began carrying heavy packages up the stairs. Mrs. Burton stepped into the corridor in surprise to see what it meant ; the man, tipping his cap to her, produced a card, upon which her own name was written in a large, clear hand, underneath, in smaller writing, a few lines to the effect that, hearing of the sad necessi- ties of herself and family, some parties unknown took the liberty of sending these necessary provi- sions to them. The man carried all into the apartment which served as kitchen and dining room, then silently departed. The women felt quite overcome by this unexpected kindness. Leoline examined the pack- ages with joy, especially when she came to a very large one of white sugar. " We are in no danger of starving now" exclaimed Mrs. Burton; "proba- bly when our gentlemen return we can surprise them with our abundance." They never found out who the kind donors were. It is possible that those donors had a pretty comfortable feeling about the region of their hearts that evening. On that night, after the sun had been in bed for a long time, the woman, girl and child sat talking together by the white moonlight 7 8 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. streaming in through the large windows. The night was almost too warm for sleep, even to them, tired as they felt. Suddenly they heard heavy footsteps on the stairs. "My darling papa," cried the child, and she was out of the door in an instant. She had recog- nized her father's steps. In they came, the child joyously holding a hand of each; the men looking very brown indeed from the sun's hot kisses, but they looked well despite their laborious and unaccustomed work. They did what people generally do when excited and happy. They all tried to talk at once. At last Burton smilingly declared that one at a time must take the stand, he himself would have first say. Then he recounted how they tried to get the farmer to pay for the first day's work, and let them take the money to their folks, solemnly promising to return the next morning. How the farmer wouldn't " hear to it," saying that he had a " pesky " hard time to get any hands into his fields; that it was one thing to say they'd come back, another thing to do it. " Yes," broke in George, "he was bound to make sure of us, for he locked us into our bed room every night, saying he'd be "goll durned " if he'd trust us out of his sight!" "To make a long story short," continued Bur- ton, "he wouldn't pay us a cent till we'd worked six days for him. 'Tis an actual fact that he locked VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 79 us in every night. I'm quite sure that he never ex- pects to see us again. If we hadn't taken to our heels and run for it the length of several fields right after supper to-night, we wouldn't be here now." They all laughed over this account, which is not exaggerated, for help was very scarce indeed ; the work of the farm being done to such a great extent by hand in those days. It is difficult now to realize such a state of affairs. The men proudly handed over their earnings to Mrs. Burton. George, kind simple soul, feeling as much pleased to have earned it for them, as if they had been his very own. When she represented to him that they had no right to it, he wouldn't listen to her. He said it was the result of his toil for the woman and child, and that she must say no more. "There's one thing," said George, "though we might be called prisoners, and worked from sun-up till sun-down, we feasted like lords in that farmhouse. Talk of a land flowing with milk and honey! Tell you what," he continued unctuous- ly, " I wish I could put some of those big chunks of honey in my pocket for you, Leo! Here's all I could bring!" At this he emptied from his pockets a lot of harvest apples. The child received them with delight. The women gave their story now, dwelling on the many kindnesses they had received, dropping So VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. from the narrative the whole extent of their suffer- ings that first day. George suspected there was something held back. He looked at Crissy with a suspicious tenderness in his eyes. Burton and his young friend soon r tired to their old sleeping apartment in the auditorium. They would have the next day Sunday to talk things over, returning to their farmer toward even- ing, to be on hand for next morning's sunrise work. At breakfast the following morning, where plenty reigned, though elegance was decidedly lacking, Burton told his wife that he was on the track of a way out of their difficulties. He had made an acquaintance in the country who would likely serve them a good turn. He wouldn't say much about it yet, but she should see. For the present they must all keep on working to try to get enough together to redeem their wardrobes. Mrs. Burton knew well her husband's extraordinary facility for getting out of the apparently hopeless positions his excesses plunged him in. The Yan- kee faculty, called "gumption," he employed for this purpose was remarkable in its results. If he had been a strictly temperate man, he would have been astonishingly successful in all he undertook. The Sunday passed too quickly. When the men prepared to leave, Leoline wept and clung to her father. This child loved her father passionately. She knew he was the cause of VAGABOND FOR A YEAR, 81 their many sufferings, yet she felt for him a pecul- iar tenderness. Much as she adored her mother, she loved her besotted father still more. Another week passed uneventfully. Their great- est trial was the lack of wearing apparel. They had to put Leoline to bed till her clothing could be washed and dried. The poor child, covered by a light quilt sold to them by the kindly - faced young dry goods man, at a price which was a mere pretence of selling would sit in her bed of thea- tre benches, conning over old play books to amuse herself. None of them minded these trials very much; there was hope ahead. When the men returned the ensuing Saturday night, George brought Leoline a bunch of flowers as big as his head. The central blossom of this great bouquet was a sunflower. It appeared that the farmer felt such delight at their totally unex- pected return to him, that he inquired more close- ly into particulars about their "folks." Ascertain- ing that a child was one of the group, he sent her " this han'ful of hum grown posies." Burton also carried, as an offering to the loves and graces, a dish of that delicious honey. On Sunday morning Burton produced his " plans," fully matured, for the admiring inspec- tion of the rest. He had formed the acquaintance of the captain of a steamboat, a stern wheeler ; "never saw her yet" observed Burton parentheti- cally, "but understand she's a great big thing, 82 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. slow and sure ; that will be all the better, we won't want anything fast for our purpose." His wife looked amazed. "What under the sun," she exclaimed, "would we have to do with a steamer?" Then Burton went on explaining how they in- tended to turn her meaning, of course, the steamer into a floating theatre ; go up the Mis- sissippi, stopping at all the small towns on the way. The novelty of the thing would draw crowds. There would be no hall rent to pay. No knocking about. Would be living on the boat all the time. Could get together a fair sized com- pany in a few days. Play Uncle Tom's Cabin in those northern towns ; it was sure to be received enthusiastically. All that was needed was the wardrobe. Captain Glockner could put his hands upon an engineer and pilot who would be delight- ed to have the chance of going out with a theatri- cal company. As for salaries, all who went would arrange that that should be according to business. If successful, as it surely would be, the captain, on account of furnishing the boat, the crew, and man- ning her, should have half the profits over and above the expenses. So far as Burton could see, it was a fine idea ; anyhow it would run them out of this rat-hole of a place. As for people to act, no trouble about that, the town was full of stage- struck young men, and women, too! Captain Glockner knew one young woman who was bound VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 83 to run away from home and go on the stage. She'd go anyhow, so she might as well go with them. One more woman would fill the cast for Uncle Tom's Cabin. They listened to this rapid summary of the "plan" with deep interest. Crissy felt something of a shock over the young woman who was bound to run away from home. Crissy, feeling herself unable to do anything against her mother's wish, could not quite understand how any other girl would defy the parental authority. To be sure, Crissy's father, when sober, had interposed objec- tions to her stage career ; but when a man fails in the fatherly duty of providing food and raiment for his young when he fails by his own fault his authority, to a great extent, must become null. Crissy, drawing upon the deeps of her ample imag- ination, did what the female mind does with such facility personified the idea. The girl stood before her at once; enthusiastic, yet modest; eager, yet diffident then Crissy's heart yearned toward this creature of her young fancy. Burton was still talking over details as Crissy thought all this. The child was charmed by the thought of living on a boat. " Shall we always have our breakfast and everything on it, papa? " she asked. " Yes, darling," her father answered, " so long as we are able to earn the breakfast. In a few days more we will have saved money enough to get our 84 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. baggage back, then Ho! for the river and a free life." Mrs. Burton did not secretly like the plan any too well; she had a notion, not ill founded, that river men generally were a rough lot. She knew that there would be breakers ahead, but she did not like to openly object, as she on her part had nothing more feasible to propose. She also knew that her health was quite inadequate to bear the protracted strain of the kind of life they were living. She set her fine executive abilities to work, therefore, in aiding and shaping her husband's plans she, like Crissy, was anxious over the girl "bound to run away." When alone with her hus- band, she questioned him. " See here, Lizzie," he said, " as far as I can hear the girl's character is all right; she is very handsome, perhaps talented. We are not in a position to be over squeamish any- how. You know we can't stage " Uncle Tom " without another woman. It isn't every girl has snap enough to run away from home ; we'd better take what we can get." Mrs. Burton assented rather reluctantly. Bur- ton then, considerably to his wife's astonishment, revealed the fact that the carpenters were at work already upon this boat, building a stage, turning the largest portion of her into an audience room with quite a seating capacity, arranging dressing rooms back of the stage, etc. " All rough, of course," said Burton, " but good VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 85 enough for the class of amusement seekers we're likely to entertain." He said the boat was in a sheltered position a few miles down the river, where she would be free from observation; for business reasons " they didn't want to give the thing away." If Burton suspected the captain had any other motives for keeping the boat in this sequestered spot, he did not. mention them to his wife. Some time during that Sunday, George noticed Leoline running about the room hugging her big bouquet with the ardor little girls display toward anything they love. "Ah! Leo," he said, "some day when you're a famous actress they will pelt you with roses. Then you'll have more flowers than you'll know what to do with." A sudden sedateness fell upon the child; she stood still before him, with a world of meaning in her lovely face. " George," she said, gravely, " often there," pointing to the baize-covered doors which led to the auditorium, " I play upon the stage queer little plays, you know, that are made out of my own head I dance pretty dances that I make up as I go along. I clap my hands at the good points, having to be audience as well as per- former. I love it, George, and yet " she paused for a long spell and looked dreamily beyond him, " and yet, I seem to know that I'll never be a famous actress never an actress at all perhaps." George looked at her in perplexity. "Why Leo," 86 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. he said gently, "you're an actress already. You have acted, and you're going to act, you're going to be the sweetest little Eva on the stage." The child nestled her head with its crown of golden ringlets against his shoulder; she looked very pensive. George was aware of an indescrib- ably troubled sensation. The men concluded to let their farmer have a couple more days. George said the old fellow had been pretty good to them despite the locking up. It was a shame to leave him with the unbound sheaves upon his fields, anyhow, by the end of that week, they would be rehearsing aboard the boat and steaming off to regions as yet unexplored by them. All now was anticipation and hope; the women still sewed, however. The child trotted over every part of the theatre, bidding affectionate good bye to those dark corners where she had played so often. She presented to an imaginary audience a farewell play and dance, interspersed with choice vocal selections rendered by herself. On Thurs- day evening the men returned. George laughingly told Crissy, that the trouble with their new venture was, that more young fellows wanted to join than they could take; that lots of the boys importuned him with representations of how they could musi- cate, dance and sing; that the plan with the young woman bound to run away was settled. That the next evening, about ten o'clock, he and another young fellow would stand under a window of her VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 87 residence, from which she would throw to their keeping a large bundle of clothes. They found this the only way to manage it, as the girl said she couldn't go without her clothing. She would leave the house unobserved the day succeeding and join them. The wardrobe, rescued from the clutches of that woman, should be sent to the boat at once. On Saturday afternoon a wagon would be provided to pick up the different parties going ; they would drive out of town a few miles to where the boat was fastened, then up steam and away. The morning of that Saturday Burton secured a buggy to drive his wife over to the boat, as the wagon would be a rough conveyance for her ; Crissy and Leoline would follow in the afternoon with the rest. George was aboard already, superin- tending everything in his usual helpful manner. There is one period of a woman's life which appears to stand distinctly in the foreground of her mental vision that day, or time, when the light-hearted exuberance of her girlhood took flight forever, leaving her the woman's intellect unadorned by that unquestioning happiness which had been its companion. With some minds this change is gradual, with others it seems to be a sudden unaccountable leap from heedless gayety to realms of seriousness. This day had come to Crissy ; she never forgot the drive of that afternoon, through roads which bordered scented clover fields, or skirted stretches 88 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. of woodland ; where the bobolinks and thrushes warbled to them, or wound through fragrant meadows where wild flowers bloomed in bright profusion. What a day it was ! how full of light, of color, of unthinking joy ! Leoline and Crissy, after their long incarceration in the dusty town, felt it a trans- formation scene. The fresh breeze from the river, the insect life in its hum of summer work, the mur- mur of grass and trees under the balmy wind, all these made an unforgotten day. Crissy almost wished this drive might never end, with its unex- pected delights, its jocund surprises ! The young men, . seeing the pleasure of the girl and child, sprang from the wagon to gather blossoms for them ; tendering these tributes with a rustic man- ner through which shone their kind-heartedness like a diamond in some dusky corner. The maiden who ran away joined them a couple of miles out. She was a tall, finely-formed girl, with a profusion of dark hair, and bold, dark eyes. She showed none of the shrinking modesty Crissy had expected ; she settled herself in the most com- fortable place she could find in the wagon, and looked composedly about her. She had little or nothing to say ; whether this was from natural reti- cence, or the fact that not having much to say, she didn't care to say it, couldn't be determined. Leo- line looked at her much as she might have looked at some animal she was afraid of, and nestled more closely to Crissy's side. VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 89 At sundown the drive was ended. In a bay-like place upon the river, which they had been follow- ing for some time, they came suddenly upon the boat. A big thing, sure enough ; there she was, a queer looking monster, with two large smoke stacks, and an immense stern wheel, which filled Leoline with surprise ; her lower guards unprotected by railings which was the case with most of the river boats used, as she had been, for transporting merchandise gave her a rough, unfinished look. It had to be confessed that she was not "a thing of beauty." There was Mrs. Burton waving her hand to them from the upper guards, and calling to them to hurry aboard, for supper was all ready. There was George with a pencil behind his ear, a carpen- ter's apron on, a hammer in his hand, smiling down on them. They unpacked themselves from the wagon - by the way, quite a number of the young men took turns walking, the load being over large then over the gang plank they ran, eager to inspect their new lodgings ; no time for this right away, for they were hurried up a queer, nar- row stairway to a cozy cabin which had a carpeted floor and a long table in its centre, on which the supper stood invitingly. That they did justice to that supper goes without telling. As the repast pro- gressed they began to get acquainted with each other. Crissy was surprised to find they had five musical young men who could play on most anything, could sing songs both comic and senti- 9 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. mental. These young men confessed to being amateurs, but what of that they could learn ! None of them had the slightest idea how to act; had never had the chance before ; but never mind that, they'd soon learn ! Crissy heard that all of the company had not collected yet, the rest would arrive during the evening. The captain, a dark, morose man, sat at one end of the table, Burton occupied the other. The captain spent his time, as the others conversed, in looking gloomily into his tea cup with a preoccupied expression. The supper con- cluded, Mrs. Burton drew Crissy and the child into the little state room fitted up as their sleeping apartment, showing them the conveniences she had contrived for them ; then into the dressing room arranged for the ladies ; in this stood the trunks containing the lately recovered wardrobes. As this was going on, the young lady recently added to their circle sat on a cushioned seat in the cabin which did triple duty as dining room, green room and parlor smiling affably, though silently, on those around, and looking very handsome. Burton, seated at one end of the table, had a lot of the young men about him, looking at play books and talking volubly. Crissy returning to the cabin sat in a corner looking on with interest ; her posi- tion commanding a view of the double doors which opened at one end of the cabin directly back of the stage. This arrangement was a necessary conven- ience ; for the characters in the plays, using this VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. -91 cabin as a green room, could slip quickly into their positions at the side entrances of the stage through these doors. Crissy's gaze following a sudden, banging sound, she saw these doors thrown open to admit the person of a young man. This young man held an open play book in his right hand raised to the level of his eyes. He came through the door with a dramatic stride ; he was not a handsome young man not at all his face was of the "platter" pattern, he wore a brown mustache and a long tailed green coat unbuttoned its length of front. The young man entered after this fashion to produce an impression ; he certainly produced one on Crissy, for she could not restrain her laughter. Burton, hearing her merriment, looked up to ascertain its cause ; an involuntary smile crossed his countenance as his eyes encount- ered the strange figure. He rose to welcome him, introducing him all 'round as his young friend, Mr. Durand, who had kindly consented to under- take the "juveniles." Crissy, with the smiles still playing hide and seek with her dimples, rose dutifully to shake hands with the new comer, who looked down upon her with a haughtily benignant smile as if to say, "go to, thou naughty child." Mr. Durand joined the group at the table with an interested yet "touch-me-not" air, which was highly edifying. Mrs. Burton, entering the cabin shortly after, stood transfixed at sight of this personage in his 92 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. green coat and egotistical condescension ; catch- ing Crissy's merry glance the older woman was constrained to sudden laughter. In the guise of absurdity, the tragic element of their future stepped in. There is an extraordinary vibration in the first touching of two lives destined to act upon each other for a lifetime, even if that action should be principally through remembrance. This vibration has been experienced by almost every man and woman, at least once, through their allotted time. It is often erroneously termed "love at first sight." We say erroneously, for the singular interest of such first sensations does not reach love at all. Why it should be mistaken for this serious passion, it is hard to tell ; that it is frequently the prelude to this passion cannot be denied. Crissy exper- ienced this vibration, knowing not its elements of danger ; repelled, yet strongly attracted by Durand, she found herself observing him more than she was wont to observe young men. Another thing, Crissy felt that she had committed a solecism. Crissy knew very well that young persons don't like to be laughed at, yet she had been betrayed into this rudeness. Her disposition being generous, she was more than ready to render the amende honorable ; she proceeded to do this after the manner of girls. When Durand's eyes wandered in her .direction she met their gaze with frank kindness ; when, later in the evening, he asked her idea as to the reading of certain pas- VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 93 sages in St. Clair he had been cast for this she modestly and quietly gave her opinion. So much had to be arranged, that all sat up till late that night. Burton ended the evening by calling upon them for a rehearsal the next fore- noon. Though they never even thought of giving a performance on Sunday, they found it would require much rehearsing to get these raw recruits into anything like playing shape. Crissy wondered that the boat did not start ; she supposed they would be off as soon as all the company came aboard ; it was midnight now, and not a sound of preparation from the steamer. Early in the evening little Leoline had fallen asleep in the upper berth destined for the use of herself and Crissy. When Crissy essayed to get into it, she found the task more difficult than it appeared ; how queer it was to be sleeping in a berth. However the mattress was soft, the linen delightfully clean, and Crissy was soon in the land of dreams. She woke at two o'clock in the morning with a frightened feeling, she could not recall at first just where she was. Putting out her hand, it struck the boarding of the par- tition; she had a drowsy sense of being shut into a box ; then she became aware of a trembling movement in all surrounding her, a pulsation like the beating of a tremendous heart, under, above, all about her. The boat was under steam, and passing swiftly, in the blackness of that early 94 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. morning hour, the town where Crissy had suffered so much. The sun had scarcely risen when Crissy became thoroughly awakened ; she turned her gaze upon her little companion, the child was lying quite motionless but with wide open eyes. "Dear Crissy," she whispered, " I have been awake a long time, but I didn't want to disturb you or mamma." Crissy kissed her smilingly, the child whispered again, "Do you think we could get up ever so softly and dress without waking mamma, it must be beautiful on the deck." Crissy said she would try ; letting herself out of the berth by the process of backing out, where, with her arms on the edge of her couch and her legs dangling in the air, she hung for an instant scarcely daring to let herself go. The child peeped laughingly over the edge. At last Crissy let go and reached the floor with realistic solidity. She assisted Leoline from the high perch, and they soon made their way to the deck. They were steaming along at what they thought a good rate of speed, though Crissy heard after that this boat was far from renowned for her swiftness. All was beautiful indeed; the river gurgled lov- ingly along the rocky shore or wandered inland to little creeks and bays. In some places great trees dipped their branches in the water, while from them rose the morning hymn of feathered song- VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 95 sters. Inland in little pools they saw the water lilies looking at themselves in the transparent depths ; from the blue sky tinged with its morning blush, from the dreamily murmuring water, from the depths of foliage on either side of the grand stream, came a voice of gladness bidding the earth be blessed. The girl and child contemplated everything with unspoken rapture, they joined un- consciously in the great paean of this morning hour. As they stood leaning against the guards, Durand sauntered up to them, the revealing light of the early hour made the plainness of his coun- tenance more pronounced. He had divested him- self of that ridiculous green coat, disclosing a fine figure, above the medium height. His movements were full of natural grace ; he greeted them in a way carelessly pleasant, then looked unconcernedly about him. The child glanced at him with an ex- pression which intimated plainly that he was an interloper ; for her the charm of the morning was broken. He talked with Crissy about the play and coming rehearsal ; the girl lingered, held by some undefinable attraction. The conversation was finally interrupted by the call to breakfast. The rehearsal proved a trying thing to Burton, who was stage manager and drilled them all ; the rehearsal might be said to be the crucial test of their abilities. On the whole they did better than could have been expected, with one exception, 96 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. that exception was the damsel of the luminous black eyes. It was just impossible to make Clara read her lines understandingly. When Burton en- deavored to explain the stage business to her, she looked bewildered and said it wasn't in the book. If she had been confused or anxious he could have helped to make something of her, but she was only stolidly dull. Clad in her "panoply of beauty" she trod the boards like a queen, and might have got on famously if it was not necessary to open her mouth. At the close of rehearsal Crissy heard Burton mutter to himself, "handsome fool!" This girl was a puzzle to Crissy from the first. Though so attractive in form and feature, her at- tractions appeared to be ignored by the young men of the company ; her taciturnity was seldom intruded upon. These young men being Clara's townspeople may have had their own notions about her ; at all events they gave her, in sailor parlance, "a wide berth." To Crissy, who was nothing like as handsome as the other girl, they displayed every kindness and attention. Crissy found it impossible to form a friendship with Clara, they had not an idea in common ; she had moreover an undefined suspicion that Clara con- sidered her a mere baby. Crissy asked George one day what he thought of Clara. George re- plied emphatically that he didn't think of her at all ; that she wasn't worth thinking about ; she was nothing but a handsome creature without a particle VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 97 of soul ; as for acting, she'd never learn that, if she was at it for a hundred years! Uncle Tom's Cabin was produced in fair shape, considering the large amateur element pervading it. The boat performances proved, as Burton pre- dicted, quite taking. Leoline's Eva was received with liveliest commendation. Crissy as Topsy was equally successful. They usually arrived in a town on one or the other side of the river in the morn- ing, then they sent some of the young folks out to bill the town, Burton and the captain going ashore to purchase supplies. They had an excellent male cook, a young man devoted to the captain; their pilot was a good one, well acquainted with the river. He had a weakness though he sometimes looked too deeply into the flowing bowl. Imme- diately after the night performance, they would up steam and off toward the next stopping place. A number of weeks slipped by ; with these weeks came changes imperceptible at first. Durand proved equal to the call upon his histrionic abili- ties, being by far their best actor next to the pro- fessionals. He also slowly, no one could have told how, gained a sort of ascendancy over the humanity around him ; not that they grew to know him any more none of them ever did that per- haps it was that he knew them better. He had a magnetism about him none could resist, and yet they did not like him ; they knew instinctively that he was not of them. His language, his general 98 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. carriage, was that of a highly educated man. In this motley gathering of partially educated persons from different walks in life, he stood a startling ex- ception ; among these rather indifferently clad and rather uncouth young men, he walked carelessly in neat apparel, every shred of which seemed adapted to his lithe, graceful figure. He was never short of money. This alone was a distinctive character- istic where the rest suffered from an incessant lack of the "needful." There was not a man among them who would have put a hand upon his shoul- der and talked confidentially with him, yet not one of them would refuse to do anything he asked them. Not that they did things because they liked to do for him, but because they felt impelled to do them. This man was gaining over Crissy the un- explainable influence he had over all the rest. He didn't mean to do it or care to do it ; love was the remotest thing in the world from his thoughts just then. The girl was a phenomenon to him. Virtue in any girl, particularly an actress you see he shared the popular impression was amazing to him. He would gaze with an ever-increasing per- plexity upon this girl, whose soul, innocent as a young child's, looked gravely at him from her large eyes, he had a singularly abashed feeling when with her, if there was any good in him it asserted itself through this abashment. His thoughts, when she stood near him, lost their wicked retrospect, turn- VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 99 ing hungrily to the simplicity of her gentle fan- cies ; he liked to talk with her, but he didn't like that any should observe him doing so. The con- sequence was, that when Crissy was with others he scarcely noticed her, but often, very often, after a few weeks, as she sat alone upon the deck or near the guards, he would suddenly stand beside her ; it always seemed sudden to Crissy, for she seldom saw or heard him coming. It was a number of weeks ere Crissy observed the fact that he sought her society when no one else was near; when at last she noticed it, it came upon her with a sense of shock. Crissy, always as transparent as the day, showed plainly that she was not her old playful, happy self. She took long spells of musing ; she was much more pensive now than in their greatest hard- ships. One day George came to Mrs. Burton with a troubled face ; for weeks he had felt that Crissy was drifting away from him, -the poor fellow was growing desperate. Mrs. Burton who was getting exceedingly anxious herself, knew what was com- ing. She, in fact every one, except Crissy, knew how dearly George loved the girl ; his honest na- ture could not conceal such a tenderness as this. "What is it?" asked George, "what has come over Crissy? She's not the girl she used to be ; she was always so gay now she mopes around and hardly speaks a word." 100 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. "I can't tell exactly," Mrs. Burton replied. "I know how you feel, George. I am worried, too. I'll try to find out why she is so unlike herself." With this George had to be content. Mrs. Burton had her private suspicions as to the real cause of this change. She felt she didn't reason it out but felt ^- that Durand was a man to be dreaded. She was well aware of the influence he exerted on all who approached him, but what could she do? The girl was evidently falling under his spell, but nothing had been con- fessed to her ; there was really nothing tangible to work upon. Knowing the natural bent of youth, she feared that warning Crissy against this man would precipitate a passion on the girl's part. One thing she was convinced of, that if Crissy loved him already, she Crissy didn't know it herself. She could do just one thing in the pres- ent position of affairs, and only one, make a bar- rier of herself between Durand and Crissy ; keep him beside her on the pretext of an innocent flirta- tion, distract his attention from the girl. His vanity she was sure he had plenty of it would soon bring this about. She knew well that Crissy had a proud little heart which would resent any slight to her affections. This girl who was not too proud to beg for work upon the streets, to face opprobrium, danger or trouble of any kind to help another had a spirit which would make her sternly crush an unreciprocated love, and turn with VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. IOI scorn from any one who made light of her feelings. Mrs. Burton did not know how often Durand had contrived to spend hours alone with Crissy. The girl somehow couldn't tell her this. There wasn't much to tell. Two people sitting or standing near each other, exchanging utterly commonplace re- marks, or looking dreamily at the river for half an hour at a time without a word. Mrs. Burton opened her batteries at once, yet under cover; she knew how important it was that the enemy should not suspect her designs. The wisest, the most skillful player at any game is liable to serious mistakes ; a false move at the start may do so much. One should remember that the bystanders who watch the game may have a mis- taken conception as to the meaning of our play. Mrs. Burton could not take Burton into her confi- dence in this matter. She knew he would be so angry at the thought of any one trifling with Crissy, that it might lead to open recriminations between Durand and himself. Besides there was a chance, a mere chance, that she was mistaken in her hypothesis ; if so, how ludicrous the situation with Burton flamingly angry against an innocent party. She began operations immediately ; she was surprised to find how readily Durand fell into the position assigned him. He sat near her as she sewed, and read aloud to her. If she and Leoline took a little walk ashore, he was with them. Did 102 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. she want some trifling errand performed, Durand was near to do it. He talked to her with a defer- ential tenderness as if she had been his mother. She didn't know how could she, not being able to look inside the man? what a wily adversary she had. From the instant she began to keep him at her side, Durand knew what she was about. He was inwardly amused. This was no new game to him ; he would humor her, but henceforth he would be more circumspect with little Crissy. She was a sweet girl ; but pshaw ! what did he care for girls or women? He had had a surfeit of what people called love. For a week succeeding, Crissy never saw him alone. As it was falling dusk one evening, she walked from her lonely place on deck to answer the summons to supper ; unexpectedly to both, they came face to face. Crissy, never an adept at concealing her emotions, was at such dis- advantage now, that before she could control her- self her eyes sought his with a world of silent re- proach and sorrow in them ; heavy tears gathered in them ; without a word she passed him and en- tered the cabin. Durand stood stock still, more shaken by this look than he had ever been by any of the griefs or hysterics of his erst time mistresses. Then she did miss him ; she liked him. He had no feeling of conquest or pride in this knowledge ; a scorn of himself knowing himself as he did came over him ; that this pure girl should love a VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 103 libertine like him ! It was a pity that Crissy had given him this peep into her heart ; it was such an honest heart that it attracted him by the law of opposites. He paid Mrs. Burton more assiduous attention than ever that evening ; waiting at the sides as she came off the stage to compliment her acting and appearance, following her about with humble obed- ience to her every look and smile. Even George, usually obtuse in such matters, noticed wonder- ingly the growing friendship between the two. There was another who watched it with gloomy eyes. For a few days succeeding, Durand vacillated between the desire, ever growing stronger, to see more of Crissy, and the intention, ever growing weaker, to leave the girl alone. The devil, noting that it was seeding time for him, did his best to get his work in ; it is true that the soil was in fine con- dition for such seeding. Then Durand took a fatal step ; having reasoned the thing out, as he thought, he made a compromise. He would see Crissy as often as he could unobserved, but he would never make love to her. The poor child was evidently hurt by his neglect ; he was foolish after all in tak- ing for granted that she loved him. Then he ana- lyzed the look she had given him, and being anx- ious for the time being, to convince himself that she didn't love him, called himself a conceited ass for having for a moment imagined such a thing. 104 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. All drifted back to the former channel. Durand danced attendance upon Mrs. Burton before that little world the old boat encircled ; in stray se- questered hours he sought his innocent young friend ; she unquestioningly took back the happi- ness that had been slipping from her. As these things progressed, the child, who from the first had taken an unconquerable, unshaken dislike to Durand, clung more closely to George and her father. Not that Burton or George could be said to be neglected by Mrs. Burton or Crissy. They were together most of the time, but we all know what it is to have a friend beside you ; yet the dis- tance of a continent between, an unexplainable line of division exists, the harder to cross because im- palpable. George, secretly chafing, wondered that with all Mrs. Burton's promises to help him, he got no nearer to Crissy. An incident occurred now which challenged the general attention. Clara had pursued the "even tenor" of her way which was an aggravatingly stupid -one without any improvement in her Thespian efforts ; without evincing the slightest desire toward even ordinary progress. All had set- tled to the firm conviction that she was to the com- pany what a mantel shelf figure is to the drawing room. One afternoon they were well up river and stopping at quite a large town Crissy coming into the cabin after a long walk with Leoline, Mrs. Bur- VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 105 ton and Durand the two last had lagged consid- erably behind found a couple of figures seated in the cabin. A small table stood between the two on which was a bottle conspicuously labeled French brandy. One figure, totally strange to Crissy, was that of a heavily bearded, florid gendeman, the other, Clara. There was a deep flush on Clara's statuesque face, a wild light in her eyes, her laughter was loud and strident, as she clinked her half-filled glass against the gentleman's. Crissy stood almost petrified with astonishment. Clara, looking up, saw the girl, and gurgling out a curse word, strangely linked with one of welcome, invited her to par- take. Crissy fled. An hour later she saw Burton talking earnestly with his wife; his brow was heavily clouded, he muttered something about scandalous proceedings. Clara did not appear in that even- ing's performance ; some hasty doubling was done to make up for her. She left the boat late that afternoon with the bearded gentleman, and they never saw or heard of her again. This event made a profound impression on Crissy. She had wandered for nearly a year with these unlucky players. She had become acquainted with many women in the profession, but never yet a bad one. Here was this girl Clara, not a professional, coming into their midst ostensibly to learn to be an actress, yet in one hour Crissy saw more depravity in this girl than in any female of her year's experience. 106 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. A light broke on her ; it was through such as these that the profession became a word of reproach. As they journeyed onward one thing had puzzled Crissy exceedingly, the fact of passing some large and thriving towns without stopping to play there- at. One morning as they steamed past one of these, she ventured being on the hurricane deck to step into the pilot's house and inquire of that officer what they passed for. " Why, Miss," he answered trying to modulate his rough voice, " you see we has to do it or we'd be tied up!" Crissy couldn't imagine what he meant, but didn't like to question him more. The afternoon of this same day they stopped at a wild, lonely spot upon the river bank to load on wood, a large lot of which stood neatly piled up close to the river for the use of steamers. Such delays as these gave opportunities for charming strolls along the wooded shore. Crissy and Leoline never tired of the sweet wild flowers, the tinted pebbles and shells about the river's edge. So off they started, Mrs. Burton and Durand following slowly behind. After quite a ramble they found, on their return, that a large portion of the wood had been loaded on. As Crissy passed near Captain Glockner she heard him say to Burton, in a low tone, accompanied by a peculiar smile, " I'll leave my card on the balance of the wood-pile, and much good may it do to them ! " Just then Crissy heard the sound of stifled laughter, and, turning, found VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 107 that it emanated from the boys who had been put- ting on the wood; they all seemed looking in a particular direction. Crissy looked, too; certainly an odd figure met her gaze an old man, very tall, rather stooped and out of all proportion lank. He had on a calico shirt of a gorgeous pattern, his pants, very much patched, in colors mostly far from the original, appeared to be held in place by a pair of suspenders made of the material called bed-tick- ing; the old straw hat he wore was simply immense; underneath its brim looked forth a pair of sharp, inquisitive gray eyes; a mat of snow white hair and beard made a strong contrast to his deeply sun- browned face. The old man waved his hand in a friendly way as he approached. Burton stepped forward to meet him. Crissy, at a meaning glance from Leoline, lingered near enough to hear the conversation that followed. " Wai, I swan ! " said the old man, as he grasped Burton's hand, shaking it warmly; " I'm right glad to see ye, stranger; had a durned long walk to git here. I hearn tell so much about this here boat that I 'lowed I'd feel more satisfider ef I could see her; and there she is!" he exclaimed, shad- ing his eyes with his hand to take a better look at the boat. " Wai, by gosh, she's a fine un ! Rakes in the tin right lively I reckon ? " This with an inquiring look at Burton. The latter, with ill-concealed amusement in his tone, answered that they had been doing a pretty fair business so far. 108 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. The old man surveyed the boat again with thoughtful admiration. " I'm in this here line myself," he said. " Got Uncle Tom's Cabin on the road in a tent; we're a takin' in about all the small towns and villages on the root. My darter's a right peart gal; the notion o' doin' the thing was hern. She sez to me, ' Dad, there's money in it ef you'll jest hump yerself and git the show a mov- in'. '" Burton asked how it was paying him. " Wai, stranger," answered the old man, " we hev our ups and downs; sometimes biz is lively and baked beans is plenty; sometimes we strike a place where the poor ornery critters is so low down that they hain't no stummick for moral plays; but the wust trouble we've had so fur is with the goats." " The goats ! " exclaimed Burton. " Yes," said the old man; " them pesky goats is allus into something or nuther. Ye see, the idea was my gal's; she sez to me, ' Dad, we must hev some live critters in the play to make it more takin' like ' ; she 'lowed that it ort ter be dorgs, but it takes sech a heap tu feed them big dorgs. So we calkilated that goats would do jest as well. My darter sez, ' All we hev to do, dad, is just turn 'em out to pastur and hev no expense whatsomever.' So the first night arter the play we turned 'em out for a few hours to pastur, and ef ye'll believe me, stranger, they pastured on a whole clothes line full of clothes. When we went to look arter the crit- VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 109 ters there they was, a chawin' on the last of the linen! Yu bet we had tu dust out of that pretty lively. The durned things hev been into mischeef on an' off ever since." Burton laughed, and asked the old man if he'd like to take a look over the boat. The stran-ger assented gladly. Leoline and Crissy followed them aboard with smiling eyes ; the old man expressed warm admiration for the interior arrangements of the boat, so different, he averred, from traveling in a tent; no wading through mud after the rain storms, no loading into wagons and unloading again. As he talked thus, a female voice suddenly interposed, " Now, dad, you jest shet up your head and tote back with me! " The peart girl alluded to was at his elbow, a large, strongly-built woman, with a freckled, good-natured face. Despite her admonition to her " dad," the girl cast a look of intense interest about her. Crissy, interpreting the look, said she would be pleased to show her about the boat. A number of the company clustered near the old man, listening to his amus- ing descriptions of tent life; the warning whistle soon sounded, however, to show that the boat was about to start, and the strangers bade them a hasty adieu. At a number of their stopping places Burton and his family were treated with great kindness by some of the more prominent residents of the places. In many cases he and the family had been HO VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. invited to such pleasant socialities as taking dinner or tea with these kind -hearted people. As the greatest attention was bestowed upon the Topsy and Eva of the play, Mrs. Burton frequently excused herself and husband, allowing the girl and child to sometimes enjoy themselves for an after- noon this way. Crissy never forgot one of these delightful afternoons, when a genial, stout, old farmer, called by the people around him "Judge" though whether he was a judge or not Crissy never found out came to the boat in a comfort- able light buggy, and helping the girls into it drove them a number of miles out of town "to visit with his folks to the farm." The ride was in itself a delight beyond compare, the road some- times winding in between great oaks and partially cleared woodland where wild birds called and whistled continually, then coming suddenly out upon some high bluff overhanging the river whose broad bosom was dotted here by many islands ; then when they reached the large farm house, with its strip of smooth grass down to the road side, its garden blazing with old-fashioned flowers, its well sweep, the stacks standing near it, and the many sounds from poultry, pigeons, cattle and horses, the girls beamed with pleasure. Out and out country life was something new to them. Then out ran a dear old white-headed lady to meet them, and two young girls, and a black-eyed young man, the very image of the old judge grown young VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 1 1 1 again, and they all seemed so glad to see them and hoped that they didn't feel the drive too long the very idea of such an ecstatic drive being too long and hoped they had good appetites, for dinner was all ready. Then the old lady said, "Was this the little Eva they had all cried over the night before? She would have to kiss them all 'round now to make up for those tears ; and here was Topsy, too! Dear me! to think of her blacking her face and arms and acting it all out like that!" Then the young girls took them to a little room with a white curtained window, where they could wash the dust from their faces and hands. This room was full of jugs and bowls and glasses, filled with the most beautiful wild flowers and ferns. The child and Crissy ran from one bowl to another smelling and admiring them till the girls said they " must really come and eat their dinner now, for mother was calling them." What a dinner that was, with the genial old judge asking a blessing upon its abundance, and the young man helping them so liberally with those big brown hands of his, with the white headed mother smiling over everything ! There was such an atmosphere of kindness in all they said and did, that Crissy felt as if through some mistake she was getting a short vacation in Heaven ahead of time. After dinner the girls took them through the orchard ; such an orchard it was too ! H2 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. with the apples turning bright red cheeks toward them as if to say, " Eat me ; you know you can't resist me!" with the crooke_d old apple trees spreading out such loving wealth of branches over the kind earth beneath them ; and then the big barn ; was there ever such a delightful place as that! with its sweet smelling hay, its nice stalls for the horses, and a large swing, where the girls insisted on swinging Crissy and Leoline. Then the fun of searching in queer nooks and corners with the girls for eggs which some refractory hens would hide away instead of putting them in the orthodox places prepared for them! But lovely pleasures end too quickly. It was time to go back to the dingy old boat ; the tiresome routine of evening work. Then the family clustered around them for good-bye. They kissed and praised Leoline, they twined her golden ringlets 'round their fingers and thought her the most talented child on earth ; then the old lady took her in her arms and wished her all happiness in her journeyings ; then they loaded them down with fruit and flowers, and watched them out of sight, waving their handker- chiefs as the last turn of the road hid the depart- ing ones from view. With the exception of that private source of anxiety understood between Mrs. Burton and George, things had gone well so far. As might have been anticipated with a man of Burton's pro- clivities the turning point was not far off. Burton VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 1 1 3 could not stand prosperity ; when that sun shone at all brightly on him the snow of his resolutions melted very fast. When difficulty made close atten- tion and strenuous effort necessary, he would put his whole mind and body to the task, abstaining from liquor entirely for the time being. When Burton began to drink again the pilot was not slow to follow his example. "Any excuse is better than none." The pilot was getting rather oppressed by his sense of moral rectitude in having kept sober so long ; the captain, too, had a leaning in the same direction, only he did his drinking, as he did everything else, in a gloomy and self-contained manner. Durand noticed these things with a scornful lifting of his eyebrows, a sneer of his full lips. Drink had no fascination for him ; he counted his vices as being of a more genteel description. This man was traveling with these theatricals under an assumed name all actors, he said to himself, have a nom de plume, why not he? The study of the people around him roused all the cynic in his nature. From the stately Clara, whose debased inwardness he had fathomed the first instant he saw and talked with her how soon depravity recognizes its companions to the drunken talent who, as he essayed to instruct and control them, was himself controlled by the more potent power of alcohol, down to the good-natured cook, Durand had learned them all. In one thing, H4 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. even with his capacity for understanding wicked- ness, he deceived himself. He thought Mrs. Bur- ton not as good as she really was. He could not understand why she placed herself in such a posi- tion toward him to save her own child from his society. It would seem that most mothers in such a case would appeal to the duty and good sense of the girl herself; it was not because Crissy was not a thoroughly good girl; she was innocent as an angel in sexual matters of that he felt convinced. An accident revealed to him the fact that Crissy was not Mrs. Burton's own daughter. He had often noticed with surprise that Crissy bore no resem- blance whatever to the rest of her family; even her voice, with the sweet fullness of those English tones derived from her own father and mother, sounded different from the elongated yet slightly nasal utterance of Burton and his wife. The deli- cate shyness of Crissy's manner was altogether unlike anything he ever met before among profes- sionals. George was the only one who knew that Crissy was not Burton's child. George, for motives of his own, was the last one in the world to impart this information to Durand. One day as little Leoline sat on the deck beside her mother, looking at the people thronging near the gangway of the steamer -long before the even- ing performance many would come down to have a look at the " show boat," as they called it Leo- line caught her mother by the arm and said, in a VAGABOND FOR A YEAR, 1 1 5 shrill voice of childish excitement, "Look there, mamma, at that girl; she's got a bonnet on just like the one Crissy wore when she first came to us!" " Hush, child," said Mrs. Burton, as turning her head she saw Durand regarding her steadfastly. It was too late however; all flashed on him at once. This was the explanation of Crissy's dissimilarity to the others. An intention, which up to this time had stirred but faintly in him, began to shape itself. Now he understood better Mrs. Burton's attitude toward himself; he saw that she was really afraid to say anything to the girl. There had been nothing in his actions she could have spoken about; he was quite sure she did not know how often he saw the girl alone. Durand had spent his life up to this time on the agreeable principle as he thought of never denying himself anything he desired. The son of a rich man, brought up by an indulgent mother- that is, indulgent in most things he had gone through school and college in a manner which, considering his unbridled license in some respects, reflected credit on his ingenuity for escaping con- sequences. Durand's mother, a lady of education and worldly refinement, married at an early age a man who was coarse, uneducated self made, they termed him but enormously rich. A few years of married life proved to her the impossibility of ever assimilating with such a man; she was a proud woman proud of her family, her culture, her dis- Il6 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. tinction as a social leader; but though she wrap- ped her mantle of pride very closely about her, she found it cold covering. In the meantime a son was born to her; on him she lavished the pent up ardor of her soul, cold and stern to all the world beside, to this boy she was the very fire of love. But the woman was worldly wise; the evils which later cropped out in the boy lay at the root of her own being. He was denied nothing which did not militate against the tenets of that world that exclusive world of the upper ten which was her only deity to which in the privacy of the secret closet of her thoughts she yielded up her orisons. She made him understand that she did not object to a little wildness in his youth; it was, in fact, quite the proper thing in society for a young man to " sow his wild oats." But one thing she and society would never forgive in him that thing was a mesalliance. Fancy what life is to a man who has no neces- sity for exertion, mental or otherwise ; who is brought up to lean upon his fathers fortune ; who has no higher aim before him than to shine in a society formed, for the most part, by a combination of moneyed people, a combination made for dis- play of wealth suddenly acquired, whose possessors do not realize the tremendous powers for regenera- tion, or the following of all the nobler instincts which it places within their reach. We speak of the society of some of our western cities as it was VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 1 1 7 thirty-six years ago. In the present instance, wit- ness one of the results of that training. Durand had lived a great deal in the short space of his life; he had lived fast, he felt old already. A certain splendid butterfly one of the most beautiful and erratic women then on the stage had lured him to the banks of the Mississippi. It had been a long chase, ending on Durand's part with deep disgust. Bad as he was himself, he felt, when he grasped this butterfly and saw the gaudy color of her wings rub off upon his hand, that there was a kind, an extent, of wickedness in some humans which would turn Satan himself to a hermit. Durand had an odd poetic element even in his sins, that he had chased this flying sail only to find a cargo of death! Phew! He was drifting aimlessly about the river when he heard of Burton's attempt to form a company. He was hundreds of miles from home ; no one would ever hear of it ; it would be an amusement to become an actor himself for a time, hence his entrance to that boat world where at last he found what real love can be. Durand knew it now. No woman had ever inspired in him such feelings as those which assailed him inCrissy's presence; never in his life before had he despised himself so much, never so longed for some sweet land where people might follow the best impulse of their souls and mesalliances were never thought of. A mutiny be- gan in his restless heart telling him that if he could 1 1 8 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. not have the girl he loved without dishonoring her, he must fly. Nothing except his own will held him there, and yet and yet. As these struggles progressed within him came the knowledge that Crissy was not Burton's own child, and the surety, harder still to combat, that Crissy loved him Durand. From the instant that Burton began to drink again, everything went wrong, not only in the cap- tain and pilot following his example, but the child sickened. She was not naturally strong; this wan- dering life, at an age when most little girls are ten- derly cared in point of sleep, food and play, told on her. It began, as most sickness does, insidiously ; a trifling lassitude, a little fever, an unusual petu- lance ; the mother's anxiety noted this and prepared simple remedies at once. One evening in the very part of the play where Eva's longest scene occurs, the child broke down entirely, and weeping, clung to her mother, sobbing out, "Oh, mamma, I can't; I really can't go on!" "My darling!" pleaded her mother, " try, do try, it is impossible to get through the play with- out you; do it for mamma's sake!" " Oh! " cried poor Leoline, "my head hurts so, how can I speak out loud? " The united entreaties of the mother, Crissy and George persuaded her to make the effort ; but when her scenes were over, and they put the trembling, feverish child to bed, their ears rang with the piti- VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 119 ful cries of her delirium. For a week she was too ill for them to even think of having her act. At this point in their affairs some of the mus- ical young men of the company, growing discon- tented with the way Burton was running things if truth must be told, also exceedingly jealous of the influence Durand exercised in the dramatic coun- sels, took French leave. This, with the loss of both Leoline and Clara in the cast, made it imper- ative to stage some light comedies requiring a small number of dramatis persona. Mrs. .Burton and Durand looked up plays and got them rehearsed in shape, as Burton was drinking to such an extent that they could not depend upon his assistance at all. The captain, from the time that he himself began to imbibe too freely, declared an open and cordial hating for Durand, saying that it was no wonder business was falling off when they staged such things and put that d d jackanapes, meaning Durand into the leading roles. They were now nearing two large cities ; these cities were directly across the river from each other, with a fine bridge spanning the stream between them. Crissy was on the hurricane deck looking at the beautiful shores as they steamed past, when she heard voices in angry altercation. It was the cap- tain and pilot. " Tell you what, Matt, I'm captain of this boat, and I will ^Q it!" exclaimed Glockner. " You're the pilot, but you needn't think you're 120 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. God Almighty; you just obey orders, and stop right there," pointing to the town on the right bank of the river. "Very well!" responded the pilot angrily, "you try it and see what'll come of it ; you must be in a precious hurry to git tied up ; a pretty fellow you be to want to run yourself right into the lion's jaws; but I'll do it!" he continued, with a quick turn of the wheel. " Nobody shall say as how Matt would- n't take his orders." Both men glared at each other fiercely, and Crissy wondered what it was all about. After the evening performance, which was rather slimly at- tended, Crissy became enlightened. The engineer was getting up steam, busy preparations for depart- ure sounded through the old steamer, when loud voices and oaths from the gang plank not yet drawn in met Crissy's ears. She and Mrs. Burton leaned over the railing to hear what was going on below. A number of po- licemen's stars glittered in the light of the lanterns. Glockner's and Burton's voices could be heard in tones of angry remonstrance. " I tell you it's no use," said one of the minions of the law, sullenly; "you don't pull out, Captain, till you settle this amount. You'd better give your orders to stop firing up, for we've got possession and we're going to hold it." After some more discussion the engineer was informed that they would not start that night, that VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. I 2 I all hands might as well turn in for a little sleep. Then the angry party at the gang plank could be heard tramping up the stairs. Presently they assembled in the cabin, where a council of war was held until late in the night, or rather far into the morning hours. Mrs. Burton and Crissy retired with all speed, when they heard the ascending footsteps. Lying in their berths, they could dis- tinguish through the thin partition of the state room the words of the belligerents. After some time they gathered from these the fact that the boat was deeply in debt, as loud impre- cations upon " her " testified. " She " was frequently alluded to in disparaging remarks, such as term- ing her an "old hulk ; " wonders as to her value for firewood, etc. Perhaps the rapid passage, from hand to hand, of various case bottles, had some- thing to do with the length of the session held, also the increasing jocularity of the disparage- ments heaped upon the unfortunate boat. The captain was told, with appropriate oaths, that he had been a smart one to evade the hand of the law up to this time. Leoline, in her sick, weak condition, clung to Crissy in terror when she heard the rough voices. The girl soothed her into something like rest. At length a compromise was effected between the opposing factions ; some of the movable appur- tenances of the boat would be yielded to the law. At a certain time the next morning, they 122 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. would take these from her, and she would be allowed to go her way. As this went on in the cabin, Mrs. Burton, ly- ing in her berth below the girls, was thinking very seriously indeed over Crissy. About the time of Clara's escapade, Mrs. Bur- ton had been on the point of telling Crissy that now would be a good chance to make the long promised visit to her mother. Crissy, in answer- ing the letter which contained that providential en- closure, told her mother that as soon as Mrs. Bur- ton could spare her she would go home. But, somehow, weeks of Durand's society had lessened her desire to see her mother immediately, so she said nothing more to Mrs. Burton concerning it. Burton's excesses, the crippling of the company which shortly followed, now rendered it almost out of the question for her to go. Mrs. Burton made up her mind, however, that she would send Crissy home if circumstances should in any way justify the anxiety she felt about the girl. She fell to pondering on the strangeness of the power Durand had acquired; even in her own case, all had gone farther than she intended. It had not been part of her original plan to make Durand's apparent devotion to herself so conspicuous. She felt her anxiety redoubled by the very fact that he had played into her hands so readily. Thinking it over, she was sure that he had some strong motive for doing so. She had no commonplace vanity VAGABOND FOR A YEAR, 123 to mislead her; she knew very well that in his at- tentions to her he was playing a part, just as he was playing in whatever he had been cast for. Bad as she knew men to be, and bad as she sus- pected him to be, no idea of his actual intentions crossed her mind. There was a lawlessness in him she knew nothing about. As she thought, the contrast between George and Durand came to her vividly. George the faithful, honest, plodding, but true - hearted man ; why was he so unappre- ciated? For all George's kind offices to every- body seemed to be taken as a matter of course; even Burton accepted his faithfulness with a con- temptuous good nature. She need not have won- dered over the plain fact seen all about us, that unobtrusive love and duty, performing its tasks without parade or claim for recognition, is seldom noticed. George received no commendation from the little world around him, because he was of that world; he belonged to it by sympathy, by caste, by the kindly subservience of a desire to please it. But Durand was a type unknown to them, whence he came, what he was, or who he was, they could not tell. The unexplainable has a peculiar fasci- nation for common minds. There is apt to be more real beauty in some ordinary field or garder flower, than in the loveliest orchid, yet the meed of beauty is always accorded the blossom of the strange plant with its multitude of ugly roots feed- ing on air. And why? Because it is to us a living 124 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. embodiment of the element called mysterious. We are too much inclined to measure the worth of a thing oy its inscrutability. Crissy, too, was beset by many restless thoughts. Here was their river experience leading them back to the same old paths filled by dank weeds of debt and drunkenness. From what she had overheard in the cabin she knew that they had passed the town of their summer misfortunes, in the dark of the morning hours, to escape the boat and its belong- ings being seized for debt. All their undertakings so far had led them to this disreputable wall of shame. Was this the life to fit a young girl to make her mark, to even make a decent living as an actress? Crissy 's strong practical sense immediate- ly responded No! Yet how could she leave Mrs. Burton and the child just now? Even as she thought, through the darkness, like a palpable presence, a graceful figure leaned caressingly toward her ; a pair of blue eyes looked into hers with an expression she knew too well. She sighed. Poor child, the chain that held her looked like flowers, but it was really iron. In a short time she would know how hard it was to break it. The next morning they heard heavy footsteps on the hurricane deck ; some men appeared to be carrying something very weighty. "What can they be taking?" asked Mrs. Burton. Crissy ran out ; returning in a few minutes, she cried, " It's the large bell!" VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 125 " Oh, dear!" exclaimed Leoline, " are they real- ly taking our beautiful big bell?" It was too true. The occupants of the boat looked sadly forth as the immense bell, whose musical clangor had so often called their audiences togeth- er, or sounded their proximity to some fine town, was borne away. To the women it was almost a sac- rilege that this bell should be taken. What would a boat be without her bell? It was like parting man and wife ; but law was inexorable and claimed its due. As they departed from this beautiful city gloom sat upon the brows of all ; even George, generally so light hearted, looked depressed. Crissy, on the upper deck with Leoline who, though still too weak to act, was slowly recovering could note that the expression of the pilot's eyes, as he glanced as- kance at the captain, was as much as to say, " I told you so." The weather was delightful ; the quickly round- ing weeks had brought them to October, Along the river bank autumn hung her gorgeous banners; the flora of this advanced season, in which the colors of purple and yellow predominated, shone in glow- ing patches on every open glade. The crisp fresh- ness of the air was full of vitality; the sun had lost his burning heat, but the earth still had its chalice filled to overflowing with the welcome warmth of his golden bounty. The scenery on this portion of the river was wild and grand. The boat some- 126 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. times steamed between solid walls of rock, stand- ing up gray and defiant, hundreds of feet above it. Little streams of water, crystal clear, ice cold, burst from the rock in places and trickled over mossy stones into the river far below; the stream rolled on in solemn grandeur tinged with the color of the surrounding rock. This was to be a long distance for them without stopping, as the Captain and Bur- ton had decided not to pause in the journeying till the evening of the next day. Crissy, whose love of the beautiful in nature was an intense pas- sion, could scarce absent herself from the deck long enough to eat. Many of them, not having to act that night, sat about playing cards or reading, yet there was a brooding anxiety in the air. The care- less cheerfulness of the earlier weeks they passed together had evaporated. To be sure there was rea- son for this, especially with the men, who mostly knew what the navigation of the Mississippi was. Tt could hardly be a matter pleasant to reflect upon that they had a drunken captain aloft, with a drunken pilot at the wheel, and as capsheaf an in- ebriated stage manager and proprietor snoring off some of his stupor in the cabin. Durand was as usual reading Shakespeare with Mrs. Burton ; George was busily constructing a toy boat for Leoline. It was late afternoon, getting dusk rapidly now, for the days were shortening. Much to Crissy's regret, the grand, rocky shores were passed ; they had reached a portion of the VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 127 river very broad, and studded with islands over- grown by willow trees. The rest were at supper, George came to her to call her in. " I wonder why it is," she said, " that the packets all seem to be taking a different side of the river from us? " George looked, and sure enough, over in the misty light on the farther side of the river, could be seen a large sidewheel steamer painted white, steaming northward, in their own direction. " Run in to supper, Crissy," said George, anx- iously. " I'll go up and speak to Matt," meaning the pilot. Crissy was scarcely seated at table before the boat seemed, in an instant quicker than thought to strike something; a sudden vibration ran through her, then she stood stock still. Every one rushed on deck. A look downward disclosed the condition of affairs, they were wedged on a sandbar. The water, beautifully clear in the northern Mississippi, revealed their position at once. The utter carelessness of their pilot was a fact beyond denial ; angry oaths resounded on all sides. " Can't be helped by talking about it," remarked the Captain, philosophically ; "we'd bet- ter go in and finish supper, then see what can be done." The surprise and annoyance of this event sobered Burton and the Captain. As the supper progressed many plans for their release from this predicament came under discussion. Absurd as it 128 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. may seem, they concluded to dig her out. As she seemed to be wedged forward, with her stern in much deeper water, they thought that possibly the force with which the great sternwheel might be revolved would aid materially ; so by the waning light a dozen men, armed with spades and shovels, could be seen at the hopeless work, standing nearly to the waist in water, digging away at the sand, which almost immediately washed in again. It was soon demonstrated that this would never answer. The boys, accustomed to the river, being good swimmers, one of them took a large rope and swam with it to a certain point considered favora- ble, where he fastened the rope firmly around a strong tree ; then the work on the windlass began. " Boys," said the Captain, gloomily, " you may as well understand that this is likely to be an all- night job, and that every man Jack of you will have to take hold." Crissy, who, on the deck above, was noting everything with an interest not untinctured with anxiety, heard the Captain's words. The men instantly proffered their services. Crissy's glance involuntarily sought a certain one among them ; he was not there. Every man on the boat, except him, was on hand for this summons. She sat alone in the gathering gloom of night and watched the work going on actively below ; there was no moon, the stars gleamed frostily overhead the nights in this northern latitude had lately grown VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 129 colder the different colored lamps were lighted over the boat, according to custom. Above Crissy's head a red one was suspended ; its light seemed to make wavering pools of blood on the floor of the deck. How well she remembered that afterwards. So long as she lived, the recollection of this night never paled in her memory. As she sat thus, absorbed in a reverie, which a troubling vision of her mother seemed constantly to interrupt, she heard hurrying footsteps near her. George's voice sounded sharply from the darkness. " Where is Durand? " he asked; "every man except him has gone to work ; we need every soul if we're ever to get out of this." " I don't know where he is," said Crissy, with such a ring of genuine surprise in her voice, that George, though he looked suspiciously at her where she sat in the red light, had to be con- vinced. He ran down the stairs to the front. In a few minutes more Burton came from the rear, just as George had come, as if from a search of the boat. He propounded the same question to Crissy. " I don't know," said the girl, feeling an unaccounta- ble peevishness, " I have not seen him." Burton, too, glanced sharply at her, then said angrily, " He's a confounded scoundrel and sneak, hiding away when every other man is working like a horse! " The girl made no reply. Burton, too, disap- 13 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. peared down the front stairway. Crissy felt the hot blood surging over her face ; why should they come to her to know where Durand was? She felt irritated and singularly ashamed. Thinking of him brought, by close association of ideas, the thought of Mrs. Burton. The girl rose, and pacing the deck in the darkness, looked through to the lighted cabin or green room at the farther end, the wide doors of the audience room standing open, the curtain rolled up, and the large doors of the cabin back of the stage, also open, gave an uninterrupted view of the lighted interior of the cabin where Mrs. Burton sat at a table in the middle of the room quietly reading; little Leoline was in bed. Mrs. Burton must have supposed Durand was working with the other men; hence was indif- ferent as to Crissy's whereabouts. A few minutes later a tall figure glided to Crissy's side, an arm was slipped about her waist, she was quietly and silently conducted to a chair standing rather back of the red light, yet giving to those above an excellent view of the busy men below. Durand, seating himself in another chair close beside her, remained silently contemplative of the creaking windlass. Crissy felt a trembling surprise; it thrilled her with a strange pleasure that he wanted to be alone with her, but yet he had no right to be there. She, true heart, would never have disregarded the call to duty, no matter how hard or hopeless. The sense of this became at last VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. I3 1 paramount ; it emboldened her to speak. " Why are you not helping them?" she asked, with a quiver in her voice. The answer came in a tone low as her own, " Because I would rather be with you." The girl felt a bewildered embarrassment; he was such a number of years older than herself that it was not the thing to tell him that he really ought to do his share ; but she would respect him more, she would think him more manly, if he was push- ing away at one of those big bars, like the spokes of an immense wheel, as the rest did. He must have divined her thought, for after a long pause he said, "They will be at it all night; in a couple of hours one of them will fall out dead tired, and I'll take his place." This seemed logical. Crissy drew her shawl more closely around her and said no more. She yielded herself to the peculiar contentment which always came over her when with Durand. He moved his chair still nearer, the encroaching arm stole softly 'round her ; sometimes as she turned her head the red light falling full upon her face would show her eyes large and limpid, looking at him with an expression of childlike trustfulness. He sat in deep shadow. An hour passed thus without another word, then he rose softly, and walking noiselessly over the dark deck looked through to the cabin where Mrs. Burton quietly read on. He resumed his silent companionship. I3 2 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. Was it Crissy's good angel or Durand's familiar devil who prompted what came next? Who can tell? He inclined his head more closely toward her, and in a voice always rich and harmonious which sounded now like honey dropping through the listening darkness, said, " Do you love me, Crissy?" No answer. It seemed to Crissy as if the throb of her heart had transformed itself into the very air about her; the stars were listening and the red light was a sentient thing. Again the voice, with a gentle insistence in its tones, " Do you love me, little Crissy?" To answer was dreadful, for she could only answer true. Her lips quivered, and after a struggle she faintly articulated, " Yes." The shel- tering arm drew more closely 'round her; not another word was said. What might have been an hour slipped by. He rose reluctantly; she rose too; he drew her to the top of the stairway. " I must help them now," he murmured slowly ; " kiss me just once before I go." Crissy could not refuse him, her will seemed bound in a narcotic slumber; that kiss was the first and the last. She stood under the red lamp and watched him. She saw him step softly from the shadows, and tak- ing the youngest and most wearied looking man from the windlass, put himself, apparently un- noticed, in his place. The men were working now in sullen silence. They seemed to feel the hopelessness in their efforts ; the lively talk with VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 133 which they began work had ceased entirely. Crissy wondered that he did not relieve Burton, so much older and more unused to labor than the rest. Durand alone knew why he did not. He glanced up once or twice at Crissy as she stood there. In a short time she walked along the guards to the door of her state room. She found, to her relief, that Mrs. Burton had not yet bolted it, and she was thus able to undress and creep in beside the sleeping Leoline. She felt that to speak to anyone that night would be impossible. How glad she was that Mrs. Burton found her book so interesting. Crissy could not sleep a novel experience with her her mind tossed restlessly upon the billows of a troubled sea; a spar or plank to cling to must be somewhere ! Then memory a strange store- house where the dust lies thick upon so many un- used and unwanted things opened its door to let the light fall full upon some simple words spoken by an anxious mother nearly a year before, forgotten long, yet closely treasured they stood out in the darkness like printed words before the retina of Crissy's vision, " Remember, that any man who be- haves in a loverlike manner to you without asking you to be his wife, insults and would degrade you ; if that happens and your heart fails you, recall your mother's words, then run away from him." Why had she not remembered this before? But :34 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR, yet until this very night, what need? Now he had asked her if she loved him, but he had not said that he loved her. He always sought her unob- served ; he had never uttered such an idea as mar- riage. Ah ! the shame of it ! love, anger, pride, held a conflict in that earnest heart which seemed like to burst it. "Then run away from him." Yes, yes, she would. How wise her mother was to know all this beforehand ; had her mother been near her she might never have grown to love him so. She could have told her mother everything ; she could never, never speak of it to anyone else ! The girl writhed in a misery of emotions never dreamed of by the man who caused it. He thought incessantly of her as he worked the windlass. Her love for him, confessed by herself, was now proved beyond a peradventure. He would not stand in the way of fate; it was destiny he said to himself which threw this pure affection into his arms. He could not marry her to be sure, but to be with her always that is until she wearied him, if that might ever be would do him good. He needed something good in his life.; but how to manage it? He must pretend to marry her ; nothing short of that would do with such a girl. How to get her from these Burtons? He felt sure she would not leave them clandestinely ; he knew the river well and many unscrupulous men along shore ; some dark night one of his friends would have a row boat close to the old steamer, then on some pretext he would VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 135 get the girl to the lower deck, a little sudden muf- fling of her face and voice, and getting her rapidly into the boat. When out of hearing of the steamer, he would explain to her his love and devotion, his friend, the minister, right there in the very skiff with them they would go ashore at the first land- ing, get married, take a packet down river as soon as possible, then away from pursuit and into the sunny south. When day was dawning the creaking of the windlass ceased, the boat quivered, the joyful thud, thud, of the mighty heart of the engine was heard as they slowly got under way. Crissy rose from her sleepless couch heavy eyed, unrefreshed ; the child and woman slept on. The deck was deserted. The men, fagged out by unusual exertion, had thrown themselves into their bunks for much needed sleep ; the captain, pilot, engineer and fireman were at their posts. The gayly painted woods showed dim and dreamlike through the clinging mists in the gray light. A tinge of pink was spreading in the east, laying a carpet for the coming of the royal sun ; soft winds were rustling through the weeds and rushes of the shores ; it was not morning yet it was only the ghost of it. Crissy stood with her hand upon the railing, wet with the night dews, and looked sadly at the passing shores ; turning her head at a slight sound she saw Durand sitting in one of the chairs where they had sat the night before. She walked slowly toward him ; he patted his knee with a motion I3 6 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. which invited her to a seat upon it. The girl blushed deeply, then quietly sat down in the chair beside him. " Why not?" asked Durand. Crissy did not reply. "Why not?" he repeated. The girl turned her steady eyes upon him and answered, " Because my mother would not wish me to." Durand bit his lip, half in anger, half amuse- ment. This girl-child talking to him in such a way ! He knew very well it was her own mother she alluded to. He turned a searching glance upon her. He couldn't divine just what it was, but there was a firmness in her face he had never noticed there be- fore. He felt a vague, undefined uneasiness. They sat together a long time, silent as the night before. Crissy's determination never wavered, even with her beloved so near. She would know later that when we pluck the flower of love out by the roots and throw it from us, it is long before order is re- stored to the torn and empty space it leaves. Breakfast was late that morning ; the company straggled into it very wearily. Crissy was watch- ing for an opportunity to talk with Mrs. Burton alone. She was anxious to do so before rehearsal, which would not be till noon that day ; but wher- ever Mrs. Burton was Durand was sure to be. He had many suggestions to make as to what they VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 13? would play that evening the next ; in fact, for two weeks to come. All this time he knew that the very next evening, if things went well the second evening at farthest he would carry out his plot as to Crissy. About ten o'clock Crissy stepped softly to the table, piled with play books and written parts, where Durand and Mrs. Burton were deeply en- gaged. " It would be better, " said Crissy, " to play a couple of one-act comedies when we are so short of people ; there are some here well suited for you and Mr. Durand. The truth is, my head aches so dreadfully it is not likely I can play to-night." Mrs. Burton looked up with quick alarm ; the girl certainly appeared ill ; she was unusually pale, with dark circles under her eyes. She gazed at Mrs. Burton steadily. This lady was gifted with perspicacity ; she rose immediately. " Child," she said, anxiously, " you are looking badly ; come inside at once, you shall lie down and I'll bathe your head. We'll manage so that you'll not play to-night." When they were inside the state room, beyond the possibility of being overheard, Mrs. Burton turned a comprehensive glance upon the girl. "What is it?" she asked. " Just this," said Crissy, " I am going to my mother as soon as I can get there; at our first land- ing place I'll get off, take a packet down river to a place where I can take the train direct for Chicago. 138 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. I wanted to tell you this before the cast was made out." Mrs. Burton gave a great sigh of relief ; she had faith in Crissy right along ; that faith was now veri- fied. These women understood each other, though little was said. " Very well, you shall go if you want to, but it's not likely you can start before to-morrow afternoon. We will prepare in any case by leaving you out of the cast to-night. One thing, however, we had better not mention it your going, I mean. What with being so short-handed, Leoline unfit yet to act, Mr. Burton, too, would interpose strong objections to your leaving just now ; not," she added quickly, " that I blame you for doing it ; you are doing what you feel to be right, yet we had best keep our own counsel. I'll speak to George that he may quietly find out where it will be best for you to get off. He'll never tell, I'll warrant, till we give him leave." She was correct; though George's astonishment was unbounded when he knew Crissy's determina- tion to go home at once, he took good care to say not a word. He assured the girl that she would not be able to start until the next afternoon, but he would see to everything. Now came the revulsion of feeling which fol- lows determined action. Crissy was wretched. She had emptied the cup of her happiness. Leaf by leaf she had torn to bits the daisy of her hopes; and what now? A long blankness stretched out before her VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 139 mental vision. The word duty could not brighten it; even the thought of her mother's love grew dim beside this overpowering anguish. She had deliber- ately hastened to do what she knew must be done ; and now she was leaving him! She went to bed for that afternoon, but the ailment was heartache not headache. You will say it was very strange that this girl, whose instincts were for good, should love so bad a man. It is not strange ; look about you and see continually the serpent charming the dove. This thing is always going on ; it is to be feared it will be, as long as this world shall last. Each soul must struggle from the quagmire as best it may, the quagmire is sure to be somewhere in its path. Durand saw no more of his young friend that day or night. He did not wish to see her. It would be better not to talk with her again until he held her firmly in his grasp. One must use care in snaring such a timid bird. Something in the look of his bird convinced him she had been alarmed. That night they played in a small place ; the next forenoon they would reach a larger one where they intended provisioning up, but would not play, as a large circus was doing a big business there, so Burton had learned from a passing packet bound down the river. After an hour or so at this place, they would steam on to a smart little town, arriv- ing there in the afternoon, and play for it that night. Durand, after hearing these plans, rapidly M VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. sketched out his own. He knew a fellow in that place who would sell his soul for whisky. All right, then, this chap would have the row boat handy for him ; first he thought near midnight ; but no, let him keep his boat in the shadow, con- veniently near, from the time it fell dark. A cer- tain whistle should be the signal between them. He might be able to spirit Crissy off earlier in the night, and so have a better chance for catching a packet. All this was somewhat risky, but he had run risks before now. Crissy slept well this night, the last one she would ever pass on the old boat. Exhaustion from mental struggle brought repose, she was too young and healthy to lose much rest. When she woke in the early morning, she felt a strange heaviness, what was this sensation of doom hanging over her? Then she remembered, and the flood gates of her sorrow opened. She dressed, but not to seek the deck as usual. Dur- ing the day she packed a satchel full of necessary clothing. Even Leoline was not told of her pro- jected departure. George ascertained at the circus town, that about dusk a packet bound down the river would touch at the town where they played that night. He would transfer Crissy and her satchel from their boat to the other, arrange for her transportation, and bid her good-bye. About the middle of the afternoon they arrived at their destination. Soon as the steamer was made fast Durand was ashore, not as one who hastens, but A YEAR, 141 with the graceful carelessness peculiarly his own. As he sauntered nonchalantly toward the town, the Captain and George, standing near each other, at the upper railings, noticed him. The Captain's dark face grew darker with intense dislike. "Look at that man! Who is he, I'd like to know, that he must foot it with a manner like a like a President. I'd like to know why he should be al- lowed to make so free with other men's wives and daughters? By God, if it was my wife instead of Burton's, I'd have his heart's blood!" "Hush, hush!" muttered George, for, looking up, he saw Burton within hearing distance. Bur- ton turned and walked away, but not before the Captain caught a glimpse of his face. Its expres- sion was frightful. "D d if he didn't hear me!" he exclaimed, with a hoarse laugh. This trifling incident worried George; he knew what demons drink made of these men. Even this early in the day, they had been imbibing pretty freely. Somehow a feeling of gladness that Crissy would soon be out of this whirlpool, came over him. The very soul was gone from life without her pres- ence ; but it would be delightful to feel that she was safe. He repaired to the cabin and asked Crissy if she had prepared all for her journey. She told him yes. He told Mrs. Burton that she had been wise in saying nothing of Crissy's inten- tions, for he feared, as matters were going now, 142 VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. that Burton and the Captain were well on the ram- page. Mrs. Burton sighed. "George," she said, "the one who will miss Crissy most of all will be Leo- line." George had some doubts of this. "But you will have to take Crissy's place to her. You and Crissy have gone through so many griefs and troubles with us, that it seems as if you really must belong to us in very truth." George assured her that he would do his best to fill Crissy's vacant place. The short day soon drew to a close. In the dusk George and Crissy quietly slipped ashore, and then to the big packet with her blaze of lights, her whistling, confusion, and noise of many voices. "God bless you!" murmured the young man. " I hope you'll not have any bother on your journey; be sure and write to us the minute you reach home." The packet remained such a few moments at these points, that as George left the levee the boat was already in midstream and snorting her way down river. Bending his steps toward the old sternwheel steamer he saw with careless eyes a man in a small boat, rowing slowly along shore in that direction. Everything was in readiness for the evening performance ; the audience room lighted, the curtain down, the players preparing in their dressing rooms. Durand's costume needed little changing from its usual gentlemanly neatness, VAGABOND FOR A YEAR. 143 as it was a modern dress the play called for. He was stepping into the green room when he heard Burton's voice in angry expostulation. He drew back from sight and listened. "It's a d d shame," said Burton, passionately, "to let the girl go just now; sneaking off too, as if she was run- ning away from us. By Heaven, I don't believe she's gone ! " "Don't talk so loudly," urged Mrs. Burton, "what I tell you is true. Crissy left for home on the Northern Belle. By this time, she's well down the river. I must hurry now with my dressing ; we can talk it over by and by. Don't let Leoline know yet that she's gone, for the child will have a fit of crying over it." With that a door was loudly closed as Burton muttered a fiery imprecation. Durand walked dizzily through the open doors of the green room, and stepping around the set scene, stood on the dim stage behind the curtain. For a moment he stood there, convulsed with rage despair he scarce knew what such an earth- quake of passion seemed to rend him. His plans foiled at the last minute! How could he for an instant have anticipated this ? That woman! He hated her! She had brought this about! He crossed the stage and stood in the wings where it was darker ; he felt as a hurt creature does, who wants to hide itself. First music was beginning ; they played a lively waltz ; he never forgot that