[illustration: "_young fellows come to me looking for jobs and telling me what a mean house they have been working for._"] letters from a self-made merchant to his son being the letters written by john graham, head of the house of graham & company, pork-packers in chicago, familiarly known on 'change as "old gorgon graham," to his son, pierrepont, facetiously known to his intimates as "piggy." boston: small, maynard & company: * * * * * _copyright, - , by_ _the curtis publishing co._ _copyright, - , by_ _george horace lorimer_ _copyright, , by_ _small, maynard & company_ (_incorporated_) _entered at stationers' hall_ _published october, _ _sixtieth thousand december, _ _plates by_ _riggs printing & publishing co._ _albany, u.s.a._ _presswork by_ _the university press,_ _cambridge, u.s.a._ * * * * * to cyrus curtis a self-made man * * * * * contents page i. from john graham, at the union stock yards in chicago, to his son, pierrepont, at harvard university, cambridge, mass. _mr. pierrepont has just become a member, in good and regular standing, of the freshman class._ ii. from john graham, at the union stock yards in chicago, to his son, pierrepont, at harvard university. _mr. pierrepont's expense account has just passed under his father's eye, and has furnished him with a text for some plain particularities._ iii. from john graham, at the union stock yards in chicago, to his son, pierrepont, at harvard university. _mr. pierrepont finds cambridge to his liking, and has suggested that he take a post-graduate course to fill up some gaps which he has found in his education._ iv. from john graham, head of the house of graham & co., at the union stock yards in chicago, to his son, pierrepont graham, at the waldorf-astoria, in new york. _mr. pierrepont has suggested the grand tour as a proper finish to his education._ v. from john graham, head of the house of graham & co., at the union stock yards in chicago, to his son, pierrepont graham, at lake moosgatchemawamuc, in the maine woods. _mr. pierrepont has written to his father withdrawing his suggestion._ vi. from john graham, en route to texas, to pierrepont graham, care of graham & co., union stock yards, chicago. _mr. pierrepont has, entirely without intention, caused a little confusion in the mails, and it has come to his father's notice in the course of business._ vii. from john graham, at the omaha branch of graham & co., to pierrepont graham, at the union stock yards, chicago. _mr. pierrepont hasn't found the methods of the worthy milligan altogether to his liking, and he has commented rather freely on them._ viii. from john graham, at hot springs, arkansas, to his son, pierrepont, at the union stock yards in chicago. _mr. pierrepont has just been promoted from the mailing to the billing desk and, in consequence, his father is feeling rather "mellow" toward him._ ix. from john graham, at hot springs, arkansas, to his son, pierrepont, at the union stock yards in chicago. _mr. pierrepont has been investing more heavily in roses than his father thinks his means warrant, and he tries to turn his thoughts to staple groceries._ x. from john graham, at the union stock yards in chicago, to his son, pierrepont, at the commercial house, jeffersonville, indiana. _mr. pierrepont has been promoted to the position of traveling salesman for the house, and has started out on the road._ xi. from john graham, at the union stock yards in chicago, to his son, pierrepont, at the planters' palace hotel, at big gap, kentucky. _mr. pierrepont's orders are small and his expenses are large, so his father feels pessimistic over his prospects._ xii. from john graham, at the union stock yards in chicago, to his son, pierrepont, at little delmonico's, prairie centre, indiana. _mr. pierrepont has annoyed his father by accepting his criticisms in a spirit of gentle, but most reprehensible, resignation._ xiii. from john graham, at the union stock yards in chicago, to his son, pierrepont, care of the hoosier grocery co., indianapolis, indiana. _mr. pierrepont's orders have been looking up, so the old man gives him a pat on the back--but not too hard a one._ xiv. from john graham, at the union stock yards in chicago, to his son, pierrepont, at the travelers' rest, new albany, indiana. _mr. pierrepont has taken a little flyer in short ribs on 'change, and has accidentally come into the line of his father's vision._ xv. from john graham, at the union stock yards in chicago, to his son, pierrepont, at the scrub oaks, spring lake, michigan. _mr. pierrepont has been promoted again, and the old man sends him a little advice with his appointment._ xvi. from john graham, at the schweitzerkasenhof, karlsbad, austria, to his son, pierrepont, at the union stock yards, chicago. _mr. pierrepont has shown mild symptoms of an attack of society fever, and his father is administering some simple remedies._ xvii. from john graham, at the london house of graham & co., to his son, pierrepont, at the union stock yards in chicago. _mr. pierrepont has written his father that he is getting along famously in his new place._ xviii. from john graham, at the london house of graham & co., to his son, pierrepont, at the union stock yards in chicago. _mr. pierrepont is worried over rumors that the old man is a bear on lard and that the longs are about to make him climb a tree._ xix. from john graham, at the new york house of graham & co., to his son, pierrepont, at the union stock yards in chicago. _the old man, on the voyage home, has met a girl who interests him and who in turn seems to be interested in mr. pierrepont._ xx. from john graham, at the boston house of graham & co., to his son, pierrepont, at the union stock yards in chicago. _mr. pierrepont has told the old man "what's what" and received a limited blessing._ * * * * * illustrations _by_ f. r. gruger _and_ b. martin justice . "young fellows come to me looking for jobs and telling me what a mean house they have been working for." _frontispiece_ _facing p._ . "old doc hoover asked me right out in sunday school if i didn't want to be saved." . "i have seen hundreds of boys go to europe who didn't bring back a great deal except a few trunks of badly fitting clothes." . "i put jim durham on the road to introduce a new product." . "old dick stover was the worst hand at procrastinating that i ever saw." . "charlie chase told me he was president of the klondike exploring, gold prospecting, and immigration company." . "jim donnelly, of the donnelly provision company, came into my office with a fool grin on his fat face." . "bill budlong was always the last man to come up to the mourners' bench." . "clarence looked to me like another of his father's bad breaks." . "you looked so blamed important and chesty when you started off." . "josh jenkinson would eat a little food now and then just to be sociable, but what he really lived on was tobacco." . "herr doctor paracelsus von munsterberg was a pretty high-toned article." . "when john l. sullivan went through the stock yards it just simply shut down the plant." . "i started in to curl up that young fellow to a crisp." . "a good many salesmen have an idea that buyers are only interested in funny stories." . "jim hicks dared fatty wilkins to eat a piece of dirt." . "elder hoover was accounted a powerful exhorter in our parts." . "miss curzon, with one of his roses in her hair, watching him from a corner." * * * * * +------------------------------+ | no. | +------------------------------+ | from john graham, at | | the union stock yards | | in chicago, to his son, | | pierrepont, at harvard | | university, cambridge, | | mass. mr. pierrepont has | | just been settled by his | | mother as a member, in | | good and regular standing, | | of the freshman class. | +------------------------------+ letters _from a_ self-made merchant _to his_ son i chicago, october , - _dear pierrepont:_ your ma got back safe this morning and she wants me to be sure to tell you not to over-study, and i want to tell you to be sure not to under-study. what we're really sending you to harvard for is to get a little of the education that's so good and plenty there. when it's passed around you don't want to be bashful, but reach right out and take a big helping every time, for i want you to get your share. you'll find that education's about the only thing lying around loose in this world, and that it's about the only thing a fellow can have as much of as he's willing to haul away. everything else is screwed down tight and the screw-driver lost. i didn't have your advantages when i was a boy, and you can't have mine. some men learn the value of money by not having any and starting out to pry a few dollars loose from the odd millions that are lying around; and some learn it by having fifty thousand or so left to them and starting out to spend it as if it were fifty thousand a year. some men learn the value of truth by having to do business with liars; and some by going to sunday school. some men learn the cussedness of whiskey by having a drunken father; and some by having a good mother. some men get an education from other men and newspapers and public libraries; and some get it from professors and parchments--it doesn't make any special difference how you get a half-nelson on the right thing, just so you get it and freeze on to it. the package doesn't count after the eye's been attracted by it, and in the end it finds its way to the ash heap. it's the quality of the goods inside which tells, when they once get into the kitchen and up to the cook. you can cure a ham in dry salt and you can cure it in sweet pickle, and when you're through you've got pretty good eating either way, provided you started in with a sound ham. if you didn't, it doesn't make any special difference how you cured it--the ham-tryer's going to strike the sour spot around the bone. and it doesn't make any difference how much sugar and fancy pickle you soak into a fellow, he's no good unless he's sound and sweet at the core. the first thing that any education ought to give a man is character, and the second thing is education. that is where i'm a little skittish about this college business. i'm not starting in to preach to you, because i know a young fellow with the right sort of stuff in him preaches to himself harder than any one else can, and that he's mighty often switched off the right path by having it pointed out to him in the wrong way. i remember when i was a boy, and i wasn't a very bad boy, as boys go, old doc hoover got a notion in his head that i ought to join the church, and he scared me out of it for five years by asking me right out loud in sunday school if i didn't want to be saved, and then laying for me after the service and praying with me. of course i wanted to be saved, but i didn't want to be saved quite so publicly. when a boy's had a good mother he's got a good conscience, and when he's got a good conscience he don't need to have right and wrong labeled for him. now that your ma's left and the apron strings are cut, you're naturally running up against a new sensation every minute, but if you'll simply use a little conscience as a tryer, and probe into a thing which looks sweet and sound on the skin, to see if you can't fetch up a sour smell from around the bone, you'll be all right. [illustration: "_old doc hoover asked me right out in sunday school if i didn't want to be saved._"] i'm anxious that you should be a good scholar, but i'm more anxious that you should be a good clean man. and if you graduate with a sound conscience, i shan't care so much if there are a few holes in your latin. there are two parts of a college education--the part that you get in the schoolroom from the professors, and the part that you get outside of it from the boys. that's the really important part. for the first can only make you a scholar, while the second can make you a man. education's a good deal like eating--a fellow can't always tell which particular thing did him good, but he can usually tell which one did him harm. after a square meal of roast beef and vegetables, and mince pie and watermelon, you can't say just which ingredient is going into muscle, but you don't have to be very bright to figure out which one started the demand for painkiller in your insides, or to guess, next morning, which one made you believe in a personal devil the night before. and so, while a fellow can't figure out to an ounce whether it's latin or algebra or history or what among the solids that is building him up in this place or that, he can go right along feeding them in and betting that they're not the things that turn his tongue fuzzy. it's down among the sweets, among his amusements and recreations, that he's going to find his stomach-ache, and it's there that he wants to go slow and to pick and choose. it's not the first half, but the second half of a college education which merchants mean when they ask if a college education pays. it's the willie and the bertie boys; the chocolate eclair and tutti-frutti boys; the la-de-dah and the baa-baa-billy-goat boys; the high cock-a-lo-rum and the cock-a-doodle-do boys; the bah jove!, hair-parted-in-the-middle, cigaroot-smoking, champagne-charlie, up-all-night-and-in-all-day boys that make 'em doubt the cash value of the college output, and overlook the roast-beef and blood-gravy boys, the shirt-sleeves and high-water-pants boys, who take their college education and make some fellow's business hum with it. does a college education pay? does it pay to feed in pork trimmings at five cents a pound at the hopper and draw out nice, cunning, little "country" sausages at twenty cents a pound at the other end? does it pay to take a steer that's been running loose on the range and living on cactus and petrified wood till he's just a bunch of barb-wire and sole-leather, and feed him corn till he's just a solid hunk of porterhouse steak and oleo oil? you bet it pays. anything that trains a boy to think and to think quick pays; anything that teaches a boy to get the answer before the other fellow gets through biting the pencil, pays. college doesn't make fools; it develops them. it doesn't make bright men; it develops them. a fool will turn out a fool, whether he goes to college or not, though he'll probably turn out a different sort of a fool. and a good, strong boy will turn out a bright, strong man whether he's worn smooth in the grab-what-you-want-and-eat-standing-with-one-eye-skinned-for-the-dog school of the streets and stores, or polished up and slicked down in the give-your-order-to-the-waiter-and-get-a-sixteen-course-dinner school of the professors. but while the lack of a college education can't keep no. down, having it boosts no. up. it's simply the difference between jump in, rough-and-tumble, kick-with-the-heels-and-butt-with-the-head nigger fighting, and this grin-and-look-pleasant, dodge-and-save-your-wind-till-you-see-a-chance-to-land-on-the-solar-plexus style of the trained athlete. both styles win fights, but the fellow with a little science is the better man, providing he's kept his muscle hard. if he hasn't, he's in a bad way, for his fancy sparring is just going to aggravate the other fellow so that he'll eat him up. of course, some men are like pigs, the more you educate them, the more amusing little cusses they become, and the funnier capers they cut when they show off their tricks. naturally, the place to send a boy of that breed is to the circus, not to college. speaking of educated pigs, naturally calls to mind the case of old man whitaker and his son, stanley. i used to know the old man mighty well ten years ago. he was one of those men whom business narrows, instead of broadens. didn't get any special fun out of his work, but kept right along at it because he didn't know anything else. told me he'd had to root for a living all his life and that he proposed to have stan's brought to him in a pail. sent him to private schools and dancing schools and colleges and universities, and then shipped him to oxford to soak in a little "atmosphere," as he put it. i never could quite lay hold of that atmosphere dodge by the tail, but so far as i could make out, the idea was that there was something in the air of the oxford ham-house that gave a fellow an extra fancy smoke. well, about the time stan was through, the undertaker called by for the old man, and when his assets were boiled down and the water drawn off, there wasn't enough left to furnish stan with a really nourishing meal. i had a talk with stan about what he was going to do, but some ways he didn't strike me as having the making of a good private of industry, let alone a captain, so i started in to get him a job that would suit his talents. got him in a bank, but while he knew more about the history of banking than the president, and more about political economy than the board of directors, he couldn't learn the difference between a fiver that the government turned out and one that was run off on a hand press in a halsted street basement. got him a job on a paper, but while he knew six different languages and all the facts about the arctic regions, and the history of dancing from the days of old adam down to those of old nick, he couldn't write up a satisfactory account of the ice-men's ball. could prove that two and two made four by trigonometry and geometry, but couldn't learn to keep books; was thick as thieves with all the high-toned poets, but couldn't write a good, snappy, merchantable street-car ad.; knew a thousand diseases that would take a man off before he could blink, but couldn't sell a thousand-dollar tontine policy; knew the lives of our presidents as well as if he'd been raised with them, but couldn't place a set of the library of the fathers of the republic, though they were offered on little easy payments that made them come as easy as borrowing them from a friend. finally i hit on what seemed to be just the right thing. i figured out that any fellow who had such a heavy stock of information on hand, ought to be able to job it out to good advantage, and so i got him a place teaching. but it seemed that he'd learned so much about the best way of teaching boys, that he told his principal right on the jump that he was doing it all wrong, and that made him sore; and he knew so much about the dead languages, which was what he was hired to teach, that he forgot he was handling live boys, and as he couldn't tell it all to them in the regular time, he kept them after hours, and that made them sore and put stan out of a job again. the last i heard of him he was writing articles on why young men fail, and making a success of it, because failing was the one subject on which he was practical. i simply mention stan in passing as an example of the fact that it isn't so much knowing a whole lot, as knowing a little and how to use it that counts. your affectionate father, john graham. +----------------------------+ | no. | +----------------------------+ | from john graham, at | | the union stock yards | | in chicago, to his son, | | pierrepont, at harvard | | university. | | | | mr. pierrepont's expense | | account has just passed | | under his father's eye, | | and has furnished him | | with a text for some | | plain particularities. | +----------------------------+ ii chicago, may , - _dear pierrepont:_ the cashier has just handed me your expense account for the month, and it fairly makes a fellow hump-shouldered to look it over. when i told you that i wished you to get a liberal education, i didn't mean that i wanted to buy cambridge. of course the bills won't break me, but they will break you unless you are very, very careful. i have noticed for the last two years that your accounts have been growing heavier every month, but i haven't seen any signs of your taking honors to justify the increased operating expenses; and that is bad business--a good deal like feeding his weight in corn to a scalawag steer that won't fat up. i haven't said anything about this before, as i trusted a good deal to your native common-sense to keep you from making a fool of yourself in the way that some of these young fellows who haven't had to work for it do. but because i have sat tight, i don't want you to get it into your head that the old man's rich, and that he can stand it, because he won't stand it after you leave college. the sooner you adjust your spending to what your earning capacity will be, the easier they will find it to live together. the only sure way that a man can get rich quick is to have it given to him or to inherit it. you are not going to get rich that way--at least, not until after you have proved your ability to hold a pretty important position with the firm; and, of course, there is just one place from which a man can start for that position with graham & co. it doesn't make any difference whether he is the son of the old man or of the cellar boss--that place is the bottom. and the bottom in the office end of this business is a seat at the mailing-desk, with eight dollars every saturday night. i can't hand out any ready-made success to you. it would do you no good, and it would do the house harm. there is plenty of room at the top here, but there is no elevator in the building. starting, as you do, with a good education, you should be able to climb quicker than the fellow who hasn't got it; but there's going to be a time when you begin at the factory when you won't be able to lick stamps so fast as the other boys at the desk. yet the man who hasn't licked stamps isn't fit to write letters. naturally, that is the time when knowing whether the pie comes before the ice-cream, and how to run an automobile isn't going to be of any real use to you. i simply mention these things because i am afraid your ideas as to the basis on which you are coming with the house have swelled up a little in the east. i can give you a start, but after that you will have to dynamite your way to the front by yourself. it is all with the man. if you gave some fellows a talent wrapped in a napkin to start with in business, they would swap the talent for a gold brick and lose the napkin; and there are others that you could start out with just a napkin, who would set up with it in the dry-goods business in a small way, and then coax the other fellow's talent into it. i have pride enough to believe that you have the right sort of stuff in you, but i want to see some of it come out. you will never make a good merchant of yourself by reversing the order in which the lord decreed that we should proceed--learning the spending before the earning end of business. pay day is always a month off for the spend-thrift, and he is never able to realize more than sixty cents on any dollar that comes to him. but a dollar is worth one hundred and six cents to a good business man, and he never spends the dollar. it's the man who keeps saving up and expenses down that buys an interest in the concern. that is where you are going to find yourself weak if your expense accounts don't lie; and they generally don't lie in that particular way, though baron munchausen was the first traveling man, and my drummers' bills still show his influence. i know that when a lot of young men get off by themselves, some of them think that recklessness with money brands them as good fellows, and that carefulness is meanness. that is the one end of a college education which is pure cussedness; and that is the one thing which makes nine business men out of ten hesitate to send their boys off to school. but on the other hand, that is the spot where a young man has the chance to show that he is not a light-weight. i know that a good many people say i am a pretty close proposition; that i make every hog which goes through my packing-house give up more lard than the lord gave him gross weight; that i have improved on nature to the extent of getting four hams out of an animal which began life with two; but you have lived with me long enough to know that my hand is usually in my pocket at the right time. now i want to say right here that the meanest man alive is the one who is generous with money that he has not had to sweat for, and that the boy who is a good fellow at some one else's expense would not work up into first-class fertilizer. that same ambition to be known as a good fellow has crowded my office with second-rate clerks, and they always will be second-rate clerks. if you have it, hold it down until you have worked for a year. then, if your ambition runs to hunching up all week over a desk, to earn eight dollars to blow on a few rounds of drinks for the boys on saturday night, there is no objection to your gratifying it; for i will know that the lord didn't intend you to be your own boss. [illustration: "_i have seen hundreds of boys go to europe who didn't bring back a great deal except a few trunks of badly fitting clothes._"] you know how i began--i was started off with a kick, but that proved a kick up, and in the end every one since has lifted me a little bit higher. i got two dollars a week, and slept under the counter, and you can bet i knew just how many pennies there were in each of those dollars, and how hard the floor was. that is what you have got to learn. i remember when i was on the lakes, our schooner was passing out through the draw at buffalo when i saw little bill riggs, the butcher, standing up above me on the end of the bridge with a big roast of beef in his basket. they were a little short in the galley on that trip, so i called up to bill and he threw the roast down to me. i asked him how much, and he yelled back, "about a dollar." that was mighty good beef, and when we struck buffalo again on the return trip, i thought i would like a little more of it. so i went up to bill's shop and asked him for a piece of the same. but this time he gave me a little roast, not near so big as the other, and it was pretty tough and stringy. but when i asked him how much, he answered "about a dollar." he simply didn't have any sense of values, and that's the business man's sixth sense. bill has always been a big, healthy, hard-working man, but to-day he is very, very poor. the bills ain't all in the butcher business. i've got some of them right now in my office, but they will never climb over the railing that separates the clerks from the executives. yet if they would put in half the time thinking for the house that they give up to hatching out reasons why they ought to be allowed to overdraw their salary accounts, i couldn't keep them out of our private offices with a pole-ax, and i wouldn't want to; for they could double their salaries and my profits in a year. but i always lay it down as a safe proposition that the fellow who has to break open the baby's bank toward the last of the week for car-fare isn't going to be any russell sage when it comes to trading with the old man's money. he'd punch my bank account as full of holes as a carload of wild texans would a fool stockman that they'd got in a corner. now i know you'll say that i don't understand how it is; that you've got to do as the other fellows do; and that things have changed since i was a boy. there's nothing in it. adam invented all the different ways in which a young man can make a fool of himself, and the college yell at the end of them is just a frill that doesn't change essentials. the boy who does anything just because the other fellows do it is apt to scratch a poor man's back all his life. he's the chap that's buying wheat at ninety-seven cents the day before the market breaks. they call him "the country" in the market reports, but the city's full of him. it's the fellow who has the spunk to think and act for himself, and sells short when prices hit the high c and the house is standing on its hind legs yelling for more, that sits in the directors' meetings when he gets on toward forty. we've got an old steer out at the packing-house that stands around at the foot of the runway leading up to the killing pens, looking for all the world like one of the village fathers sitting on the cracker box before the grocery--sort of sad-eyed, dreamy old cuss--always has two or three straws from his cud sticking out of the corner of his mouth. you never saw a steer that looked as if he took less interest in things. but by and by the boys drive a bunch of steers toward him, or cows maybe, if we're canning, and then you'll see old abe move off up that runway, sort of beckoning the bunch after him with that wicked old stump of a tail of his, as if there was something mighty interesting to steers at the top, and something that every texan and colorado, raw from the prairies, ought to have a look at to put a metropolitan finish on him. those steers just naturally follow along on up that runway and into the killing pens. but just as they get to the top, old abe, someways, gets lost in the crowd, and he isn't among those present when the gates are closed and the real trouble begins for his new friends. i never saw a dozen boys together that there wasn't an old abe among them. if you find your crowd following him, keep away from it. there are times when it's safest to be lonesome. use a little common-sense, caution and conscience. you can stock a store with those three commodities, when you get enough of them. but you've got to begin getting them young. they ain't catching after you toughen up a bit. you needn't write me if you feel yourself getting them. the symptoms will show in your expense account. good-by; life's too short to write letters and new york's calling me on the wire. your affectionate father, john graham. +-------------------------------+ | no. | +-------------------------------+ | from john graham, at the | | union stock yards in | | chicago, to his son, | | pierrepont, at harvard | | university. mr. pierrepont | | finds cambridge to his | | liking, and has suggested | | that he take a post-graduate | | course to fill up some | | gaps which he has found | | in his education. | +-------------------------------+ iii june , - _dear pierrepont:_ no, i can't say that i think anything of your post-graduate course idea. you're not going to be a poet or a professor, but a packer, and the place to take a post-graduate course for that calling is in the packing-house. some men learn all they know from books; others from life; both kinds are narrow. the first are all theory; the second are all practice. it's the fellow who knows enough about practice to test his theories for blow-holes that gives the world a shove ahead, and finds a fair margin of profit in shoving it. there's a chance for everything you have learned, from latin to poetry, in the packing business, though we don't use much poetry here except in our street-car ads., and about the only time our products are given latin names is when the state board of health condemns them. so i think you'll find it safe to go short a little on the frills of education; if you want them bad enough you'll find a way to pick them up later, after business hours. the main thing is to get a start along right lines, and that is what i sent you to college for. i didn't expect you to carry off all the education in sight--i knew you'd leave a little for the next fellow. but i wanted you to form good mental habits, just as i want you to have clean, straight physical ones. because i was run through a threshing machine when i was a boy, and didn't begin to get the straw out of my hair till i was past thirty, i haven't any sympathy with a lot of these old fellows who go around bragging of their ignorance and saying that boys don't need to know anything except addition and the "best policy" brand of honesty. we started in a mighty different world, and we were all ignorant together. the lord let us in on the ground floor, gave us corner lots, and then started in to improve the adjacent property. we didn't have to know fractions to figure out our profits. now a merchant needs astronomy to see them, and when he locates them they are out somewhere near the fifth decimal place. there are sixteen ounces to the pound still, but two of them are wrapping paper in a good many stores. and there're just as many chances for a fellow as ever, but they're a little gun shy, and you can't catch them by any such coarse method as putting salt on their tails. thirty years ago, you could take an old muzzle-loader and knock over plenty of ducks in the city limits, and chicago wasn't cook county then, either. you can get them still, but you've got to go to kankakee and take a hammerless along. and when i started in the packing business it was all straight sailing--no frills--just turning hogs into hog meat--dry salt for the niggers down south and sugar-cured for the white folks up north. everything else was sausage, or thrown away. but when we get through with a hog nowadays, he's scattered through a hundred different cans and packages, and he's all accounted for. what we used to throw away is our profit. it takes doctors, lawyers, engineers, poets, and i don't know what, to run the business, and i reckon that improvements which call for parsons will be creeping in next. naturally, a young man who expects to hold his own when he is thrown in with a lot of men like these must be as clean and sharp as a hound's tooth, or some other fellow's simply going to eat him up. the first college man i ever hired was old john durham's son, jim. that was a good many years ago when the house was a much smaller affair. jim's father had a lot of money till he started out to buck the universe and corner wheat. and the boy took all the fancy courses and trimmings at college. the old man was mighty proud of jim. wanted him to be a literary fellow. but old durham found out what every one learns who gets his ambitions mixed up with number two red--that there's a heap of it lying around loose in the country. the bears did quick work and kept the cash wheat coming in so lively that one settling day half a dozen of us had to get under the market to keep it from going to everlasting smash. that day made young jim a candidate for a job. it didn't take him long to decide that the lord would attend to keeping up the visible supply of poetry, and that he had better turn his attention to the stocks of mess pork. next morning he was laying for me with a letter of introduction when i got to the office, and when he found that i wouldn't have a private secretary at any price, he applied for every other position on the premises right down to office boy. i told him i was sorry, but i couldn't do anything for him then; that we were letting men go, but i'd keep him in mind, and so on. the fact was that i didn't think a fellow with jim's training would be much good, anyhow. but jim hung on--said he'd taken a fancy to the house, and wanted to work for it. used to call by about twice a week to find out if anything had turned up. finally, after about a month of this, he wore me down so that i stopped him one day as he was passing me on the street. i thought i'd find out if he really was so red-hot to work as he pretended to be; besides, i felt that perhaps i hadn't treated the boy just right, as i had delivered quite a jag of that wheat to his father myself. "hello, jim," i called; "do you still want that job?" "yes, sir," he answered, quick as lightning. "well, i tell you how it is, jim," i said, looking up at him--he was one of those husky, lazy-moving six-footers--"i don't see any chance in the office, but i understand they can use another good, strong man in one of the loading gangs." i thought that would settle jim and let me out, for it's no joke lugging beef, or rolling barrels and tierces a hundred yards or so to the cars. but jim came right back at me with, "done. who'll i report to?" that sporty way of answering, as if he was closing a bet, made me surer than ever that he was not cut out for a butcher. but i told him, and off he started hot-foot to find the foreman. i sent word by another route to see that he got plenty to do. i forgot all about jim until about three months later, when his name was handed up to me for a new place and a raise in pay. it seemed that he had sort of abolished his job. after he had been rolling barrels a while, and the sport had ground down one of his shoulders a couple of inches lower than the other, he got to scheming around for a way to make the work easier, and he hit on an idea for a sort of overhead railroad system, by which the barrels could be swung out of the storerooms and run right along into the cars, and two or three men do the work of a gang. it was just as i thought. jim was lazy, but he had put the house in the way of saving so much money that i couldn't fire him. so i raised his salary, and made him an assistant timekeeper and checker. jim kept at this for three or four months, until his feet began to hurt him, i guess, and then he was out of a job again. it seems he had heard something of a new machine for registering the men, that did away with most of the timekeepers except the fellows who watched the machines, and he kept after the superintendent until he got him to put them in. of course he claimed a raise again for effecting such a saving, and we just had to allow it. i was beginning to take an interest in jim, so i brought him up into the office and set him to copying circular letters. we used to send out a raft of them to the trade. that was just before the general adoption of typewriters, when they were still in the experimental stage. but jim hadn't been in the office plugging away at the letters for a month before he had the writer's cramp, and began nosing around again. the first thing i knew he was sicking the agents for the new typewriting machine on to me, and he kept them pounding away until they had made me give them a trial. then it was all up with mister jim's job again. i raised his salary without his asking for it this time, and put him out on the road to introduce a new product that we were making--beef extract. jim made two trips without selling enough to keep them working overtime at the factory, and then he came into my office with a long story about how we were doing it all wrong. said we ought to go for the consumer by advertising, and make the trade come to us, instead of chasing it up. that was so like jim that i just laughed at first; besides, that sort of advertising was a pretty new thing then, and i was one of the old-timers who didn't take any stock in it. but jim just kept plugging away at me between trips, until finally i took him off the road and told him to go ahead and try it in a small way. jim pretty nearly scared me to death that first year. at last he had got into something that he took an interest in--spending money--and he just fairly wallowed in it. used to lay awake nights, thinking up new ways of getting rid of the old man's profits. and he found them. seemed as if i couldn't get away from graham's extract, and whenever i saw it i gagged, for i knew it was costing me money that wasn't coming back; but every time i started to draw in my horns jim talked to me, and showed me where there was a fortune waiting for me just around the corner. [illustration: "_i put jim durham out on the road to introduce a new product._"] graham's extract started out by being something that you could make beef-tea out of--that was all. but before jim had been fooling with it a month he had got his girl to think up a hundred different ways in which it could be used, and had advertised them all. it seemed there was nothing you could cook that didn't need a dash of it. he kept me between a chill and a sweat all the time. sometimes, but not often, i just _had_ to grin at his foolishness. i remember one picture he got out showing sixteen cows standing between something that looked like a letter-press, and telling how every pound or so of graham's extract contained the juice squeezed from a herd of steers. if an explorer started for the north pole, jim would send him a case of extract, and then advertise that it was the great heat-maker for cold climates; and if some other fellow started across africa he sent _him_ a case, too, and advertised what a bully drink it was served up with a little ice. he broke out in a new place every day, and every time he broke out it cost the house money. finally, i made up my mind to swallow the loss, and mister jim was just about to lose his job sure enough, when the orders for extract began to look up, and he got a reprieve; then he began to make expenses, and he got a pardon; and finally a rush came that left him high and dry in a permanent place. jim was all right in his way, but it was a new way, and i hadn't been broad-gauged enough to see that it was a better way. that was where i caught the connection between a college education and business. i've always made it a rule to buy brains, and i've learned now that the better trained they are the faster they find reasons for getting their salaries raised. the fellow who hasn't had the training may be just as smart, but he's apt to paw the air when he's reaching for ideas. i suppose you're asking why, if i'm so hot for education, i'm against this post-graduate course. but habits of thought ain't the only thing a fellow picks up at college. i see you've been elected president of your class. i'm glad the boys aren't down on you, but while the most popular man in his class isn't always a failure in business, being as popular as that takes up a heap of time. i noticed, too, when you were home easter, that you were running to sporty clothes and cigarettes. there's nothing criminal about either, but i don't hire sporty clerks at all, and the only part of the premises on which cigarette smoking is allowed is the fertilizer factory. i simply mention this in passing. i have every confidence in your ultimate good sense, and i guess you'll see the point without my elaborating with a meat ax my reasons for thinking that you've had enough college for the present. your affectionate father, john graham. +-----------------------------+ | no. | +-----------------------------+ | from john graham, head | | of the house of graham | | & co., at the union stock | | yards in chicago, to his | | son, pierrepont graham, | | at the waldorf-astoria, | | in new york. mr. | | pierrepont has suggested | | the grand tour as a | | proper finish to his | | education. | +-----------------------------+ iv june , - _dear pierrepont:_ your letter of the seventh twists around the point a good deal like a setter pup chasing his tail. but i gather from it that you want to spend a couple of months in europe before coming on here and getting your nose in the bull-ring. of course, you are your own boss now and you ought to be able to judge better than any one else how much time you have to waste, but it seems to me, on general principles, that a young man of twenty-two, who is physically and mentally sound, and who hasn't got a dollar and has never earned one, can't be getting on somebody's pay-roll too quick. and in this connection it is only fair to tell you that i have instructed the cashier to discontinue your allowance after july . that gives you two weeks for a vacation--enough to make a sick boy well, or a lazy one lazier. i hear a good deal about men who won't take vacations, and who kill themselves by overwork, but it's usually worry or whiskey. it's not what a man does during working-hours, but after them, that breaks down his health. a fellow and his business should be bosom friends in the office and sworn enemies out of it. a clear mind is one that is swept clean of business at six o'clock every night and isn't opened up for it again until after the shutters are taken down next morning. some fellows leave the office at night and start out to whoop it up with the boys, and some go home to sit up with their troubles--they're both in bad company. they're the men who are always needing vacations, and never getting any good out of them. what every man does need once a year is a change of work--that is, if he has been curved up over a desk for fifty weeks and subsisting on birds and burgundy, he ought to take to fishing for a living and try bacon and eggs, with a little spring water, for dinner. but coming from harvard to the packing-house will give you change enough this year to keep you in good trim, even if you didn't have a fortnight's leeway to run loose. you will always find it a safe rule to take a thing just as quick as it is offered--especially a job. it is never easy to get one except when you don't want it; but when you have to get work, and go after it with a gun, you'll find it as shy as an old crow that every farmer in the county has had a shot at. when i was a young fellow and out of a place, i always made it a rule to take the first job that offered, and to use it for bait. you can catch a minnow with a worm, and a bass will take your minnow. a good fat bass will tempt an otter, and then you've got something worth skinning. of course, there's no danger of your not being able to get a job with the house--in fact, there is no real way in which you can escape getting one; but i don't like to see you shy off every time the old man gets close to you with the halter. i want you to learn right at the outset not to play with the spoon before you take the medicine. putting off an easy thing makes it hard, and putting off a hard one makes it impossible. procrastination is the longest word in the language, but there's only one letter between its ends when they occupy their proper places in the alphabet. old dick stover, for whom i once clerked in indiana, was the worst hand at procrastinating that i ever saw. dick was a powerful hearty eater, and no one ever loved meal-time better, but he used to keep turning over in bed mornings for just another wink and staving off getting up, until finally his wife combined breakfast and dinner on him, and he only got two meals a day. he was a mighty religious man, too, but he got to putting off saying his prayers until after he was in bed, and then he would keep passing them along until his mind was clear of worldly things, and in the end he would drop off to sleep without saying them at all. what between missing the sunday morning service and never being seen on his knees, the first thing dick knew he was turned out of the church. he had a pretty good business when i first went with him, but he would keep putting off firing his bad clerks until they had lit out with the petty cash; and he would keep putting off raising the salaries of his good ones until his competitor had hired them away. finally, he got so that he wouldn't discount his bills, even when he had the money; and when they came due he would give notes so as to keep from paying out his cash a little longer. running a business on those lines is, of course, equivalent to making a will in favor of the sheriff and committing suicide so that he can inherit. the last i heard of dick he was ninety-three years old and just about to die. that was ten years ago, and i'll bet he's living yet. i simply mention dick in passing as an instance of how habits rule a man's life. there is one excuse for every mistake a man can make, but only one. when a fellow makes the same mistake twice he's got to throw up both hands and own up to carelessness or cussedness. of course, i knew that you would make a fool of yourself pretty often when i sent you to college, and i haven't been disappointed. but i expected you to narrow down the number of combinations possible by making a different sort of a fool of yourself every time. that is the important thing, unless a fellow has too lively an imagination, or has none at all. you are bound to try this european foolishness sooner or later, but if you will wait a few years, you will approach it in an entirely different spirit--and you will come back with a good deal of respect for the people who have sense enough to stay at home. [illustration: "_old dick stover was the worst hand at procrastinating that i ever saw._"] i piece out from your letter that you expect a few months on the other side will sort of put a polish on you. i don't want to seem pessimistic, but i have seen hundreds of boys graduate from college and go over with the same idea, and they didn't bring back a great deal except a few trunks of badly fitting clothes. seeing the world is like charity--it covers a multitude of sins, and, like charity, it ought to begin at home. culture is not a matter of a change of climate. you'll hear more about browning to the square foot in the mississippi valley than you will in england. and there's as much art talk on the lake front as in the latin quarter. it may be a little different, but it's there. i went to europe once myself. i was pretty raw when i left chicago, and i was pretty sore when i got back. coming and going i was simply sick. in london, for the first time in my life, i was taken for an easy thing. every time i went into a store there was a bull movement. the clerks all knocked off their regular work and started in to mark up prices. they used to tell me that they didn't have any gold-brick men over there. so they don't. they deal in pictures--old masters, they call them. i bought two--you know the ones--those hanging in the waiting-room at the stock yards; and when i got back i found out that they had been painted by a measly little fellow who went to paris to study art, after bill harris had found out that he was no good as a settling clerk. i keep 'em to remind myself that there's no fool like an old american fool when he gets this picture paresis. the fellow who tried to fit me out with a coat-of-arms didn't find me so easy. i picked mine when i first went into business for myself--a charging steer--and it's registered at washington. it's my trade-mark, of course, and that's the only coat-of-arms an american merchant has any business with. it's penetrated to every quarter of the globe in the last twenty years, and every soldier in the world has carried it--in his knapsack. i take just as much pride in it as the fellow who inherits his and can't find any place to put it, except on his carriage door and his letter-head--and it's a heap more profitable. it's got so now that every jobber in the trade knows that it stands for good quality, and that's all any englishman's coat-of-arms can stand for. of course, an american's can't stand for anything much--generally it's the burned-in-the-skin brand of a snob. after the way some of the descendants of the old new york dutchmen with the hoe and the english general storekeepers have turned out, i sometimes feel a little uneasy about what my great-grandchildren may do, but we'll just stick to the trade-mark and try to live up to it while the old man's in the saddle. i simply mention these things in a general way. i have no fears for you after you've been at work for a few years, and have struck an average between the packing-house and harvard; then if you want to graze over a wider range it can't hurt you. but for the present you will find yourself pretty busy trying to get into the winning class. your affectionate father, john graham. +------------------------------+ | no. | +------------------------------+ | from john graham, head | | of the house of graham & | | co., at the union stock | | yards in chicago, to his | | son, pierrepont graham, | | at lake moosgatchemawamuc, | | in the maine woods. mr. | | pierrepont has written to | | his father withdrawing | | his suggestion. | +------------------------------+ v july , - _dear pierrepont:_ yours of the fourth has the right ring, and it says more to the number of words used than any letter that i have ever received from you. i remember reading once that some fellows use language to conceal thought; but it's been my experience that a good many more use it _instead_ of thought. a business man's conversation should be regulated by fewer and simpler rules than any other function of the human animal. they are: have something to say. say it. stop talking. beginning before you know what you want to say and keeping on after you have said it lands a merchant in a lawsuit or the poorhouse, and the first is a short cut to the second. i maintain a legal department here, and it costs a lot of money, but it's to keep me from going to law. it's all right when you are calling on a girl or talking with friends after dinner to run a conversation like a sunday-school excursion, with stops to pick flowers; but in the office your sentences should be the shortest distance possible between periods. cut out the introduction and the peroration, and stop before you get to secondly. you've got to preach short sermons to catch sinners; and deacons won't believe they need long ones themselves. give fools the first and women the last word. the meat's always in the middle of the sandwich. of course, a little butter on either side of it doesn't do any harm if it's intended for a man who likes butter. remember, too, that it's easier to look wise than to talk wisdom. say less than the other fellow and listen more than you talk; for when a man's listening he isn't telling on himself and he's flattering the fellow who is. give most men a good listener and most women enough note-paper and they'll tell all they know. money talks--but not unless its owner has a loose tongue, and then its remarks are always offensive. poverty talks, too, but nobody wants to hear what it has to say. i simply mention these things in passing because i'm afraid you're apt to be the fellow who's doing the talking; just as i'm a little afraid that you're sometimes like the hungry drummer at the dollar-a-day house--inclined to kill your appetite by eating the cake in the centre of the table before the soup comes on. of course, i'm glad to see you swing into line and show the proper spirit about coming on here and going to work; but you mustn't get yourself all "het up" before you take the plunge, because you're bound to find the water pretty cold at first. i've seen a good many young fellows pass through and out of this office. the first week a lot of them go to work they're in a sweat for fear they'll be fired; and the second week for fear they won't be. by the third, a boy that's no good has learned just how little work he can do and keep his job; while the fellow who's got the right stuff in him is holding down his own place with one hand and beginning to reach for the job just ahead of him with the other. i don't mean that he's neglecting his work; but he's beginning to take notice, and that's a mighty hopeful sign in either a young clerk or a young widow. you've got to handle the first year of your business life about the way you would a trotting horse. warm up a little before going to the post--not enough to be in a sweat, but just enough to be limber and eager. never start off at a gait that you can't improve on, but move along strong and well in hand to the quarter. let out a notch there, but take it calm enough up to the half not to break, and hard enough not to fall back into the ruck. at the three-quarters you ought to be going fast enough to poke your nose out of the other fellow's dust, and running like the limited in the stretch. keep your eyes to the front all the time, and you won't be so apt to shy at the little things by the side of the track. head up, tail over the dashboard--that's the way the winners look in the old pictures of maud s. and dexter and jay-eye-see. and that's the way i want to see you swing by the old man at the end of the year, when we hoist the numbers of the fellows who are good enough to promote and pick out the salaries which need a little sweetening. i've always taken a good deal of stock in what you call "blood-will-tell" if you're a methodist, or "heredity" if you're a unitarian; and i don't want you to come along at this late day and disturb my religious beliefs. a man's love for his children and his pride are pretty badly snarled up in this world, and he can't always pick them apart. i think a heap of you and a heap of the house, and i want to see you get along well together. to do that you must start right. it's just as necessary to make a good first impression in business as in courting. you'll read a good deal about "love at first sight" in novels, and there may be something in it for all i know; but i'm dead certain there's no such thing as love at first sight in business. a man's got to keep company a long time, and come early and stay late and sit close, before he can get a girl or a job worth having. there's nothing comes without calling in this world, and after you've called you've generally got to go and fetch it yourself. our bright young men have discovered how to make a pretty good article of potted chicken, and they don't need any help from hens, either; and you can smell the clover in our butterine if you've developed the poetic side of your nose; but none of the boys have been able to discover anything that will pass as a substitute for work, even in a boarding-house, though i'll give some of them credit for having tried pretty hard. [illustration: "_charlie chase told me he was president of the klondike exploring, gold prospecting and immigration company._"] i remember when i was selling goods for old josh jennings, back in the sixties, and had rounded up about a thousand in a savings-bank--a mighty hard thousand, that came a dollar or so at a time, and every dollar with a little bright mark where i had bit it--i roomed with a dry-goods clerk named charlie chase. charlie had a hankering to be a rich man; but somehow he could never see any connection between that hankering and his counter, except that he'd hint to me sometimes about an heiress who used to squander her father's money shamefully for the sake of having charlie wait on her. but when it came to getting rich outside the dry-goods business and getting rich in a hurry, charlie was the man. along about tuesday night--he was paid on saturday--he'd stay at home and begin to scheme. he'd commence at eight o'clock and start a magazine, maybe, and before midnight he'd be turning away subscribers because his presses couldn't print a big enough edition. or perhaps he wouldn't feel literary that night, and so he'd invent a system for speculating in wheat and go on pyramiding his purchases till he'd made the best that cheops did look like a five-cent plate of ice cream. all he ever needed was a few hundred for a starter, and to get that he'd decide to let me in on the ground floor. i want to say right here that whenever any one offers to let you in on the ground floor it's a pretty safe rule to take the elevator to the roof garden. i never exactly refused to lend charlie the capital he needed, but we generally compromised on half a dollar next morning, when he was in a hurry to make the store to keep from getting docked. he dropped by the office last week, a little bent and seedy, but all in a glow and trembling with excitement in the old way. told me he was president of the klondike exploring, gold prospecting and immigration company, with a capital of ten millions. i guessed that he was the board of directors and the capital stock and the exploring and the prospecting and the immigrating, too--everything, in fact, except the business card he'd sent in; for charlie always had a gift for nosing out printers who'd trust him. said that for the sake of old times he'd let me have a few thousand shares at fifty cents, though they would go to par in a year. in the end we compromised on a loan of ten dollars, and charlie went away happy. the swamps are full of razor-backs like charlie, fellows who'd rather make a million a night in their heads than five dollars a day in cash. i have always found it cheaper to lend a man of that build a little money than to hire him. as a matter of fact, i have never known a fellow who was smart enough to think for the house days and for himself nights. a man who tries that is usually a pretty poor thinker, and he isn't much good to either; but if there's any choice the house gets the worst of it. i simply mention these little things in a general way. if you can take my word for some of them you are going to save yourself a whole lot of trouble. there are others which i don't speak of because life is too short and because it seems to afford a fellow a heap of satisfaction to pull the trigger for himself to see if it is loaded; and a lesson learned at the muzzle has the virtue of never being forgotten. you report to milligan at the yards at eight sharp on the fifteenth. you'd better figure on being here on the fourteenth, because milligan's a pretty touchy irishman, and i may be able to give you a point or two that will help you to keep on his mellow side. he's apt to feel a little sore at taking on in his department a man whom he hasn't passed on. your affectionate father, john graham. +-----------------------------+ | no. | +-----------------------------+ | from john graham, en route | | to texas, to pierrepont | | graham, care of graham & | | co., union stock yards, | | chicago. mr. pierrepont | | has, entirely without | | intention, caused a little | | confusion in the mails, | | and it has come to his | | father's notice in the | | course of business. | +-----------------------------+ vi private car parnassus, aug. , - _dear pierrepont:_ perhaps it's just as well that i had to hurry last night to make my train, and so had no time to tell you some things that are laying mighty heavy on my mind this morning. jim donnelly, of the donnelly provision company, came into the office in the afternoon, with a fool grin on his fat face, to tell me that while he appreciated a note which he had just received in one of the firm's envelopes, beginning "dearest," and containing an invitation to the theatre to-morrow night, it didn't seem to have any real bearing on his claim for shortage on the last carload of sweet pickled hams he had bought from us. of course, i sent for milligan and went for him pretty rough for having a mailing clerk so no-account as to be writing personal letters in office hours, and such a blunderer as to mix them up with the firm's correspondence. milligan just stood there like a dumb irishman and let me get through and go back and cuss him out all over again, with some trimmings that i had forgotten the first time, before he told me that you were the fellow who had made the bull. naturally, i felt pretty foolish, and, while i tried to pass it off with something about your still being green and raw, the ice was mighty thin, and you had the old man running tiddledies. it didn't make me feel any sweeter about the matter to hear that when milligan went for you, and asked what you supposed donnelly would think of that sort of business, you told him to "consider the feelings of the girl who got our brutal refusal to allow a claim for a few hundredweight of hams." i haven't any special objection to your writing to girls and telling them that they are the real sugar-cured article, for, after all, if you overdo it, it's your breach-of-promise suit, but you must write before eight or after six. i have bought the stretch between those hours. your time is money--my money--and when you take half an hour of it for your own purposes, that is just a petty form of petty larceny. milligan tells me that you are quick to learn, and that you can do a powerful lot of work when you've a mind to; but he adds that it's mighty seldom your mind takes that particular turn. your attention may be on the letters you are addressing, or you may be in a comatose condition mentally; he never quite knows until the returns come from the dead-letter office. a man can't have his head pumped out like a vacuum pan, or stuffed full of odds and ends like a bologna sausage, and do his work right. it doesn't make any difference how mean and trifling the thing he's doing may seem, that's the big thing and the only thing for him just then. business is like oil--it won't mix with anything but business. you can resolve everything in the world, even a great fortune, into atoms. and the fundamental principles which govern the handling of postage stamps and of millions are exactly the same. they are the common law of business, and the whole practice of commerce is founded on them. they are so simple that a fool can't learn them; so hard that a lazy man won't. boys are constantly writing me for advice about how to succeed, and when i send them my receipt they say that i am dealing out commonplace generalities. of course i am, but that's what the receipt calls for, and if a boy will take these commonplace generalities and knead them into his job, the mixture'll be cake. [illustration: "_jim donnelly of the donnelly provision company came into my office with a fool grin on his fat face._"] once a fellow's got the primary business virtues cemented into his character, he's safe to build on. but when a clerk crawls into the office in the morning like a sick setter pup, and leaps from his stool at night with the spring of a tiger, i'm a little afraid that if i sent him off to take charge of a branch house he wouldn't always be around when customers were. he's the sort of a chap who would hold back the sun an hour every morning and have it gain two every afternoon if the lord would give him the same discretionary powers that he gave joshua. and i have noticed that he's the fellow who invariably takes a timekeeper as an insult. he's pretty numerous in business offices; in fact, if the glance of the human eye could affect a clockface in the same way that a man's country cousins affect their city welcome, i should have to buy a new timepiece for the office every morning. i remember when i was a boy, we used to have a pretty lively camp-meeting every summer, and elder hoover, who was accounted a powerful exhorter in our parts, would wrastle with the sinners and the backsliders. there was one old chap in the town--bill budlong--who took a heap of pride in being the simon pure cuss. bill was always the last man to come up to the mourners' bench at the camp-meeting and the first one to backslide when it was over. used to brag around about what a hold satan had on him and how his sin was the original brand, direct from adam, put up in cans to keep, and the can-opener lost. doc hoover would get the whole town safe in the fold and then have to hold extra meetings for a couple of days to snake in that miserable bill; but, in the end, he always got religion and got it hard. for a month or two afterward, he'd make the chills run down the backs of us children in prayer-meeting, telling how he had probably been the triflingest and orneriest man alive before he was converted. then, along toward hog-killing time, he'd backslide, and go around bragging that he was standing so close to the mouth of the pit that his whiskers smelt of brimstone. he kept this up for about ten years, getting vainer and vainer of his staying qualities, until one summer, when the elder had rounded up all the likeliest sinners in the bunch, he announced that the meetings were over for that year. you never saw a sicker-looking man than bill when he heard that there wasn't going to be any extra session for him. he got up and said he reckoned another meeting would fetch him; that he sort of felt the clutch of old satan loosening; but doc hoover was firm. then bill begged to have a special deacon told off to wrastle with him, but doc wouldn't listen to that. said he'd been wasting time enough on him for ten years to save a county, and he had just about made up his mind to let him try his luck by himself; that what he really needed more than religion was common-sense and a conviction that time in this world was too valuable to be frittered away. if he'd get that in his head he didn't think he'd be so apt to trifle with eternity; and if he didn't get it, religion wouldn't be of any special use to him. a big merchant finds himself in doc hoover's fix pretty often. there are too many likely young sinners in his office to make it worth while to bother long with the bills. very few men are worth wasting time on beyond a certain point, and that point is soon reached with a fellow who doesn't show any signs of wanting to help. naturally, a green man always comes to a house in a pretty subordinate position, and it isn't possible to make so much noise with a firecracker as with a cannon. but you can tell a good deal by what there is left of the boy, when you come to inventory him on the fifth of july, whether he'll be safe to trust with a cannon next year. it isn't the little extra money that you may make for the house by learning the fundamental business virtues which counts so much as it is the effect that it has on your character and that of those about you, and especially on the judgment of the old man when he's casting around for the fellow to fill the vacancy just ahead of you. he's pretty apt to pick some one who keeps separate ledger accounts for work and for fun, who gives the house sixteen ounces to the pound, and, on general principles, to pass by the one who is late at the end where he ought to be early, and early at the end where he ought to be late. i simply mention these things in passing, but, frankly, i am afraid that you have a streak of the bill in you; and you can't be a good clerk, let alone a partner, until you get it out. i try not to be narrow when i'm weighing up a young fellow, and to allow for soakage and leakage, and then to throw in a little for good feeling; but i don't trade with a man whom i find deliberately marking up the weights on me. this is a fine country we're running through, but it's a pity that it doesn't raise more hogs. it seems to take a farmer a long time to learn that the best way to sell his corn is on the hoof. your affectionate father, john graham. p.s. i just had to allow donnelly his claim on those hams, though i was dead sure our weights were right, and it cost the house sixty dollars. but your fool letter took all the snap out of our argument. i get hot every time i think of it. +------------------------------+ | no. | +------------------------------+ | from john graham, at the | | omaha branch of graham & | | co., to pierrepont graham, | | at the union stock yards, | | chicago. mr. pierrepont | | hasn't found the methods | | of the worthy milligan | | altogether to his liking, | | and he has commented | | rather freely on them. | +------------------------------+ vii omaha, september , - _dear pierrepont:_ yours of the th ultimo strikes me all wrong. i don't like to hear you say that you can't work under milligan or any other man, for it shows a fundamental weakness. and then, too, the house isn't interested in knowing how you like your boss, but in how he likes you. i understand all about milligan. he's a cross, cranky old irishman with a temper tied up in bow-knots, who prods his men with the bull-stick six days a week and schemes to get them salary raises on the seventh, when he ought to be listening to the sermon; who puts the black-snake on a clerk's hide when he sends a letter to oshkosh that ought to go to kalamazoo, and begs him off when the old man wants to have him fired for it. altogether he's a hard, crabbed, generous, soft-hearted, loyal, bully old boy, who's been with the house since we took down the shutters for the first time, and who's going to stay with it till we put them up for the last time. but all that apart, you want to get it firmly fixed in your mind that you're going to have a milligan over you all your life, and if it isn't a milligan it will be a jones or a smith, and the chances are that you'll find them both harder to get along with than this old fellow. and if it isn't milligan or jones or smith, and you ain't a butcher, but a parson or a doctor, or even the president of the united states, it'll be a way-back deacon, or the undertaker, or the machine. there isn't any such thing as being your own boss in this world unless you're a tramp, and then there's the constable. like the old man if you can, but give him no cause to dislike you. keep your self-respect at any cost, and your upper lip stiff at the same figure. criticism can properly come only from above, and whenever you discover that your boss is no good you may rest easy that the man who pays his salary shares your secret. learn to give back a bit from the base-burner, to let the village fathers get their feet on the fender and the sawdust box in range, and you'll find them making a little room for you in turn. old men have tender feet, and apologies are poor salve for aching corns. remember that when you're in the right you can afford to keep your temper, and that when you're in the wrong you can't afford to lose it. when you've got an uncertain cow it's all o.k. to tie a figure eight in her tail, if you ain't thirsty, and it's excitement you're after; but if you want peace and her nine quarts, you will naturally approach her from the side, and say, so-boss, in about the same tone that you would use if you were asking your best girl to let you hold her hand. of course, you want to be sure of your natural history facts and learn to distinguish between a cow that's a kicker, but whose intentions are good if she's approached with proper respect, and a hooker, who is vicious on general principles, and any way you come at her. there's never any use fooling with an animal of that sort, brute or human. the only safe place is the other side of the fence or the top of the nearest tree. [illustration: "_bill budlong was always the last man to come up to the mourners' bench._"] when i was clerking in missouri, a fellow named jeff hankins moved down from wisconsin and bought a little clearing just outside the town. jeff was a good talker, but a bad listener, and so we learned a heap about how things were done in wisconsin, but he didn't pick up much information about the habits of our missouri fauna. when it came to cows, he had had a liberal education and he made out all right, but by and by it got on to ploughing time and jeff naturally bought a mule--a little moth-eaten cuss, with sad, dreamy eyes and droopy, wiggly-woggly ears that swung in a circle as easy as if they ran on ball-bearings. her owner didn't give her a very good character, but jeff was too busy telling how much he knew about horses to pay much attention to what anybody was saying about mules. so finally the seller turned her loose in jeff's lot, told him he wouldn't have any trouble catching her if he approached her right, and hurried off out of range. next morning at sunup jeff picked out a bridle and started off whistling buffalo gals--he was a powerful pretty whistler and could do the mocking bird with variations--to catch the mule and begin his plowing. the animal was feeding as peaceful as a water-color picture, and she didn't budge; but when jeff began to get nearer, her ears dropped back along her neck as if they had lead in them. he knew that symptom and so he closed up kind of cautious, aiming for her at right angles and gurgling, "muley, muley, here muley; that's a good muley," sort of soothing and caressing-like. still she didn't stir and jeff got right up to her and put one arm over her back and began to reach forward with the bridle, when something happened. he never could explain just what it was, but we judged from the marks on his person that the mule had reached forward and kicked the seat of his trousers with one of her prehensile hind feet; and had reached back and caught him on the last button of his waistcoat with one of her limber fore feet; and had twisted around her elastic neck and bit off a mouthful of his hair. when jeff regained consciousness, he reckoned that the only really safe way to approach a mule was to drop on it from a balloon. i simply mention this little incident as an example of the fact that there are certain animals with which the lord didn't intend white men to fool. and you will find that, as a rule, the human varieties of them are not the fellows who go for you rough-shod, like milligan, when you're wrong. it's when you come across one of those gentlemen who have more oil in their composition than any two-legged animal has a right to have, that you should be on the lookout for concealed deadly weapons. i don't mean that you should distrust a man who is affable and approachable, but you want to learn to distinguish between him and one who is too affable and too approachable. the adverb makes the difference between a good and a bad fellow. the bunco men aren't all at the county fair, and they don't all operate with the little shells and the elusive pea. when a packer has learned all that there is to learn about quadrupeds, he knows only one-eighth of his business; the other seven-eighths, and the important seven-eighths, has to do with the study of bipeds. i dwell on this because i am a little disappointed that you should have made such a mistake in sizing up milligan. he isn't the brightest man in the office, but he is loyal to me and to the house, and when you have been in business as long as i have you will be inclined to put a pretty high value on loyalty. it is the one commodity that hasn't any market value, and it's the one that you can't pay too much for. you can trust any number of men with your money, but mighty few with your reputation. half the men who are with the house on pay day are against it the other six. a good many young fellows come to me looking for jobs, and start in by telling me what a mean house they have been working for; what a cuss to get along with the senior partner was; and how little show a bright, progressive clerk had with him. i never get very far with a critter of that class, because i know that he wouldn't like me or the house if he came to work for us. i don't know anything that a young business man ought to keep more entirely to himself than his dislikes, unless it is his likes. it's generally expensive to have either, but it's bankruptcy to tell about them. it's all right to say nothing about the dead but good, but it's better to apply the rule to the living, and especially to the house which is paying your salary. just one word before i close, as old doc hoover used to say, when he was coming into the stretch, but still a good ways off from the benediction. i have noticed that you are inclined to be a little chesty and starchy around the office. of course, it's good business, when a fellow hasn't much behind his forehead, to throw out his chest and attract attention to his shirt-front. but as you begin to meet the men who have done something that makes them worth meeting you will find that there are no "keep off the grass" or "beware of the dog" signs around their premises, and that they don't motion to the orchestra to play slow music while they talk. superiority makes every man feel its equal. it is courtesy without condescension; affability without familiarity; self-sufficiency without selfishness; simplicity without snide. it weighs sixteen ounces to the pound without the package, and it doesn't need a four-colored label to make it go. we are coming home from here. i am a little disappointed in the showing that this house has been making. pound for pound it is not getting nearly so much out of its hogs as we are in chicago. i don't know just where the leak is, but if they don't do better next month i am coming back here with a shotgun, and there's going to be a pretty heavy mortality among our head men. your affectionate father, john graham. +------------------------------+ | no. | +------------------------------+ | from john graham, at hot | | springs, arkansas, to his | | son, pierrepont, at the | | union stock yards in | | chicago. mr. pierrepont | | has just been promoted | | from the mailing to the | | billing desk and, in | | consequence, his father | | is feeling rather "mellow" | | toward him. | +------------------------------+ viii hot springs, january , - _dear pierrepont:_ they've run me through the scalding vats here till they've pretty nearly taken all the hair off my hide, but that or something else has loosened up my joints so that they don't squeak any more when i walk. the doctor says he'll have my rheumatism cured in thirty days, so i guess you can expect me home in about a fortnight. for he's the breed of doctor that is always two weeks ahead of his patients' condition when they're poor, and two weeks behind it when they're rich. he calls himself a specialist, which means that it costs me ten dollars every time he has a look in at my tongue, against two that i would pay the family doctor for gratifying his curiosity. but i guess this specialist business is about the only outlet for marketing the surplus of young doctors. reminds me of the time when we were piling up canned corned beef in stock faster than people would eat it, and a big drought happened along in texas and began driving the canners in to the packing-house quicker than we could tuck them away in tin. jim durham tried to "stimulate the consumption," as he put it, by getting out a nice little booklet called, "a hundred dainty dishes from a can," and telling how to work off corned beef on the family in various disguises; but, after he had schemed out ten different combinations, the other ninety turned out to be corned-beef hash. so that was no use. but one day we got together and had a nice, fancy, appetizing label printed, and we didn't economize on the gilt--a picture of a steer so fat that he looked as if he'd break his legs if they weren't shored up pretty quick with props, and with blue ribbons tied to his horns. we labeled it "blue ribbon beef--for fancy family trade," and charged an extra ten cents a dozen for the cans on which that special label was pasted. of course, people just naturally wanted it. there's nothing helps convince some men that a thing has merit like a little gold on the label. and it's pretty safe to bet that if a fellow needs a six or seven-syllabled word to describe his profession, he's a corn doctor when you come to look him up in the dictionary. and then you'll generally find him in the back part of the book where they tuck away the doubtful words. but that isn't what i started out to say. i want to tell you that i was very, very glad to learn from your letter that you had been promoted to the billing desk. i have felt all along that when you got a little of the nonsense tried out of you there would be a residue of common-sense, and i am glad to have your boss back up my judgment. there's two things you just naturally don't expect from human nature--that the widow's tombstone estimate of the departed, on which she is trying to convince the neighbors against their better judgment that he went to heaven, and the father's estimate of the son, on which he is trying to pass him along into a good salary, will be conservative. i had that driven into my mind and spiked down when i hired the widow's son a few years ago. his name was clarence--clarence st. clair hicks--and his father used to keep books for me when he wasn't picking the winners at washington park or figuring out the batting averages of the chicagos. he was one of those quick men who always have their books posted up half an hour before closing time for three weeks of the month, and spend the evenings of the fourth hunting up the eight cents that they are out on the trial balance. when he died his wife found that his life insurance had lapsed the month before, and so she brought clarence down to the office and asked me to give him a job. clarence wasn't exactly a pretty boy; in fact, he looked to me like another of his father's bad breaks; but his mother seemed to think a heap of him. i learned that he would have held the belt in his sunday-school for long-distance verse-reciting if the mother of one of the other boys hadn't fixed the superintendent, and that it had taken a general conspiracy of the teachers in his day-school to keep him from walking off with the good-conduct medal. i couldn't just reconcile those statements with clarence's face, but i accepted him at par and had him passed along to the head errand boy. his mother cried a little when she saw him marched off, and asked me to see that he was treated kindly and wasn't bullied by the bigger boys, because he had been "raised a pet." a number of unusual things happened in the offices that morning, and the head office boy thought clarence might be able to explain some of them, but he had an alibi ready every time--even when a bookkeeper found the vault filled with cigarette smoke and clarence in it hunting for something he couldn't describe. but as he was a new boy, no one was disposed to bear down on him very hard, so his cigarettes were taken away from him and he was sent back to his bench with a warning that he had used up all his explanations. along toward noon, a big boston customer came in with his little boy--a nice, plump, stall-fed youngster, with black velvet pants and hair that was just a little longer than was safe in the stock-yards district. and while we were talking business, the kid wandered off to the coat-room, where the errand boys were eating lunch, which was a pretty desperate place for a boy with velvet pants on to go. [illustration: "_clarence looked to me like another of his father's bad breaks._"] as far as we could learn from willie when he came out of his convulsions, the boys had been very polite to him and had insisted on his joining in a new game which clarence had just invented, called playing pig-sticker. and, because he was company, clarence told him that he could be the pig. willie didn't know just what being the pig meant, but, as he told his father, it didn't sound very nice and he was afraid he wouldn't like it. so he tried to pass along the honor to some one else, but clarence insisted that it was "hot stuff to be the pig," and before willie could rightly judge what was happening to him, one end of a rope had been tied around his left ankle and the other end had been passed over a transom bar, and he was dangling headforemost in the air, while clarence threatened his jugular with a lath sword. that was when he let out the yell which brought his father and me on the jump and scattered the boys all over the stock yards. willie's father canceled his bologna contract and marched off muttering something about "degrading surroundings brutalizing the young;" and clarence's mother wrote me that i was a bad old man who had held her husband down all his life and now wouldn't give her son a show. for, naturally, after that little incident, i had told the boy who had been raised a pet that he had better go back to the menagerie. i simply mention clarence in passing as an instance of why i am a little slow to trust my judgment on my own. i have always found that, whenever i thought a heap of anything i owned, there was nothing like getting the other fellow's views expressed in figures; and the other fellow is usually a pessimist when he's buying. the lady on the dollar is the only woman who hasn't any sentiment in her make-up. and if you really want a look at the solid facts of a thing you must strain off the sentiment first. i put you under milligan to get a view of you through his eyes. if he says that you are good enough to be a billing clerk, and to draw twelve dollars a week, i guess there's no doubt about it. for he's one of those men that never show any real enthusiasm except when they're cussing. naturally, it's a great satisfaction to see a streak or two of business ability beginning to show under the knife, because when it comes closing time for me it will make it a heap easier to know that some one who bears the name will take down the shutters in the morning. boys are a good deal like the pups that fellows sell on street corners--they don't always turn out as represented. you buy a likely setter pup and raise a spotted coach dog from it, and the promising son of an honest butcher is just as like as not to turn out a poet or a professor. i want to say in passing that i have no real prejudice against poets, but i believe that, if you're going to be a milton, there's nothing like being a mute, inglorious one, as some fellow who was a little sore on the poetry business once put it. of course, a packer who understands something about the versatility of cottonseed oil need never turn down orders for lard because the run of hogs is light, and a father who understands human nature can turn out an imitation parson from a boy whom the lord intended to go on the board of trade. but on general principles it's best to give your cottonseed oil a latin name and to market it on its merits, and to let your boy follow his bent, even if it leads him into the wheat pit. if a fellow has got poetry in him it's bound to come out sooner or later in the papers or the street cars; and the longer you keep it bottled up the harder it comes, and the longer it takes the patient to recover. there's no easier way to cure foolishness than to give a man leave to be foolish. and the only way to show a fellow that he's chosen the wrong business is to let him try it. if it really is the wrong thing you won't have to argue with him to quit, and if it isn't you haven't any right to. speaking of bull-pups that turned out to be terriers naturally calls to mind the case of my old friend jeremiah simpkins' son. there isn't a solider man in the boston leather trade than jeremiah, nor a bigger scamp that the law can't touch than his son ezra. there isn't an ounce of real meanness in ezra's whole body, but he's just naturally and unintentionally a maverick. when he came out of college his father thought that a few years' experience in the hide department of graham & co. would be a good thing for him before he tackled the leather business. so i wrote to send him on and i would give him a job, supposing, of course, that i was getting a yearling of the steady, old, reliable simpkins strain. i was a little uneasy when ezra reported, because he didn't just look as if he had had a call to leather. he was a tall, spare new englander, with one of those knobby foreheads which has been pushed out by the overcrowding of the brain, or bulged by the thickening of the skull, according as you like or dislike the man. his manners were easy or familiar by the same standard. he told me right at the start that, while he didn't know just what he wanted to do, he was dead sure that it wasn't the leather business. it seemed that he had said the same thing to his father and that the old man had answered, "tut, tut," and told him to forget it and to learn hides. simpkins learned all that he wanted to know about the packing industry in thirty days, and i learned all that i wanted to know about ezra in the same time. pork-packing seemed to be the only thing that he wasn't interested in. i got his resignation one day just five minutes before the one which i was having written out for him was ready; for i will do simpkins the justice to say that there was nothing slow about him. he and his father split up, temporarily, over it, and, of course, it cost me the old man's trade and friendship. i want to say right here that the easiest way in the world to make enemies is to hire friends. i lost sight of simpkins for a while, and then he turned up at the office one morning as friendly and familiar as ever. said he was a reporter and wanted to interview me on the december wheat deal. of course, i wouldn't talk on that, but i gave him a little fatherly advice--told him he would sleep in a hall bedroom all his life if he didn't quit his foolishness and go back to his father, though i didn't really believe it. he thanked me and went off and wrote a column about what i might have said about december wheat, and somehow gave the impression that i had said it. the next i heard of simpkins he was dead. the associated press dispatches announced it, the cuban junta confirmed it, and last of all, a long dispatch from simpkins himself detailed the circumstances leading up to the "atrocity," as the headlines in his paper called it. i got a long wire from ezra's father asking me to see the managing editor and get at the facts for him. it seemed that the paper had thought a heap of simpkins, and that he had been sent out to cuba as a correspondent, and stationed with the insurgent army. simpkins in cuba had evidently lived up to the reputation of simpkins in chicago. when there was any news he sent it, and when there wasn't he just made news and sent that along. the first word of his death had come in his own letter, brought across on a filibustering steamer and wired on from jacksonville. it told, with close attention to detail--something he had learned since he left me--how he had strayed away from the little band of insurgents with which he had been out scouting and had blundered into the spanish lines. he had been promptly made a prisoner, and, despite his papers proving his american citizenship, and the nature of his job, and the red cross on his sleeve, he had been tried by drumhead court martial and sentenced to be shot at dawn. all this he had written out, and then, that his account might be complete, he had gone on and imagined his own execution. this was written in a sort of pigeon, or perhaps you would call it black spanish, english, and let on to be the work of the eyewitness to whom simpkins had confided his letter. he had been the sentry over the prisoner, and for a small bribe in hand and the promise of a larger one from the paper, he had turned his back on simpkins while he wrote out the story, and afterward had deserted and carried it to the cuban lines. the account ended: "then, as the order to fire was given by the lieutenant, señor simpkins raised his eyes toward heaven and cried: 'i protest in the name of my american citizenship!'" at the end of the letter, and not intended for publication, was scrawled: "this is a bully scoop for you, boys, but it's pretty tough on me. good-by. simpkins." the managing editor dashed a tear from his eye when he read this to me, and gulped a little as he said: "i can't help it; he was such a d----d thoughtful boy. why, he even remembered to inclose descriptions for the pictures!" simpkins' last story covered the whole of the front page and three columns of the second, and it just naturally sold cords of papers. his editor demanded that the state department take it up, though the spaniards denied the execution or any previous knowledge of any such person as this señor simpkins. that made another page in the paper, of course, and then they got up a memorial service, which was good for three columns. one of those fellows that you can find in every office, who goes around and makes the boys give up their lunch money to buy flowers for the deceased aunt of the cellar boss' wife, managed to collect twenty dollars among our clerks, and they sent a floral notebook, with "gone to press," done in blue immortelles on the cover, as their "tribute." i put on a plug hat and attended the service out of respect for his father. but i had hardly got back to the office before i received a wire from jamaica, reading: "cable your correspondent here let me have hundred. notify father all hunk. keep it dark from others. simpkins." i kept it dark and ezra came back to life by easy stages and in such a way as not to attract any special attention to himself. he managed to get the impression around that he'd been snatched from the jaws of death by a rescue party at the last moment. the last i heard of him he was in new york and drawing ten thousand a year, which was more than he could have worked up to in the leather business in a century. fifty or a hundred years ago, when there was good money in poetry, a man with simpkins' imagination would naturally have been a bard, as i believe they used to call the top-notchers; and, once he was turned loose to root for himself, he instinctively smelled out the business where he could use a little poetic license and made a hit in it. when a pup has been born to point partridges there's no use trying to run a fox with him. i was a little uncertain about you at first, but i guess the lord intended you to hunt with the pack. get the scent in your nostrils and keep your nose to the ground, and don't worry too much about the end of the chase. the fun of the thing's in the run and not in the finish. your affectionate father, john graham. +-----------------------------+ | no. | +-----------------------------+ | from john graham, at hot | | springs, arkansas, to his | | son, pierrepont, at the | | union stock yards in | | chicago. mr. pierrepont | | has been investing more | | heavily in roses than his | | father thinks his means | | warrant, and he tries to | | turn his thoughts to | | staple groceries. | +-----------------------------+ ix hot springs, january , - _dear pierrepont:_ i knew right off that i had made a mistake when i opened the inclosed and saw that it was a bill for fifty-two dollars, "for roses sent, as per orders, to miss mabel dashkam." i don't just place miss dashkam, but if she's the daughter of old job dashkam, on the open board, i should say, on general principles, that she was a fine girl to let some other fellow marry. the last time i saw her, she inventoried about $ , as she stood--allowing that her diamonds would scratch glass--and that's more capital than any woman has a right to tie up on her back, i don't care how rich her father is. and job's fortune is one of that brand which foots up to a million in the newspapers and leaves the heirs in debt to the lawyers who settle the estate. of course i've never had any real experience in this sparking business, except with your ma; but i've watched from the other side of the fence while a heap of fellows were getting it, and i should say that marrying a woman like mabel dashkam would be the first step toward becoming a grass widower. i'll bet if you'll tell her you're making twelve a week and ain't going to get any more till you earn it, you'll find that you can't push within a mile of her even on a soo ice-breaker. she's one of those women with a heart like a stock-ticker--it doesn't beat over anything except money. of course you're in no position yet to think of being engaged even, and that's why i'm a little afraid that you may be planning to get married. but a twelve-dollar clerk, who owes fifty-two dollars for roses, needs a keeper more than a wife. i want to say right here that there always comes a time to the fellow who blows fifty-two dollars at a lick on roses when he thinks how many staple groceries he could have bought with the money. after all, there's no fool like a young fool, because in the nature of things he's got a long time to live. i suppose i'm fanning the air when i ask you to be guided by my judgment in this matter, because, while a young fellow will consult his father about buying a horse, he's cock-sure of himself when it comes to picking a wife. marriages may be made in heaven, but most engagements are made in the back parlor with the gas so low that a fellow doesn't really get a square look at what he's taking. while a man doesn't see much of a girl's family when he's courting, he's apt to see a good deal of it when he's housekeeping; and while he doesn't marry his wife's father, there's nothing in the marriage vow to prevent the old man from borrowing money of him, and you can bet if he's old job dashkam he'll do it. a man can't pick his own mother, but he can pick his son's mother, and when he chooses a father-in-law who plays the bucket shops, he needn't be surprised if his own son plays the races. never marry a poor girl who's been raised like a rich one. she's simply traded the virtues of the poor for the vices of the rich without going long on their good points. to marry for money or to marry without money is a crime. there's no real objection to marrying a woman with a fortune, but there is to marrying a fortune with a woman. money makes the mare go, and it makes her cut up, too, unless she's used to it and you drive her with a snaffle-bit. while you are at it, there's nothing like picking out a good-looking wife, because even the handsomest woman looks homely sometimes, and so you get a little variety; but a homely one can only look worse than usual. beauty is only skin deep, but that's deep enough to satisfy any reasonable man. (i want to say right here that to get any sense out of a proverb i usually find that i have to turn it wrong side out.) then, too, if a fellow's bound to marry a fool, and a lot of men have to if they're going to hitch up into a well-matched team, there's nothing like picking a good-looking one. i simply mention these things in a general way, because it seems to me, from the gait at which you're starting off, that you'll likely find yourself roped and branded any day, without quite knowing how it happened, and i want you to understand that the girl who marries you for my money is getting a package of green goods in more ways than one. i think, though, if you really understood what marrying on twelve a week meant, you would have bought a bedroom set instead of roses with that fifty-two you owe. speaking of marrying the old man's money by proxy naturally takes me back to my old town in missouri and the case of chauncey witherspoon hoskins. chauncey's father was the whole village, barring the railroad station and the saloon, and, of course, chauncey thought that he was something of a pup himself. so he was, but not just the kind that chauncey thought he was. he stood about five foot three in his pumps, had a nice pinky complexion, pretty wavy hair, and a curly mustache. all he needed was a blue ribbon around his neck to make you call, "here, fido," when he came into the room. still i believe he must have been pretty popular with the ladies, because i can't think of him to this day without wanting to punch his head. at the church sociables he used to hop around among them, chipping and chirping like a dicky-bird picking up seed; and he was a great hand to play the piano, and sing saddish, sweetish songs to them. always said the smooth thing and said it easy. never had to choke and swallow to fetch it up. never stepped through his partner's dress when he began to dance, or got flustered when he brought her refreshments and poured the coffee in her lap to cool instead of in the saucer. we boys who couldn't walk across the floor without feeling that our pants had hiked up till they showed our feet to the knees, and that we were carrying a couple of canvased hams where our hands ought to be, didn't like him; but the girls did. you can trust a woman's taste on everything except men; and it's mighty lucky that she slips up there or we'd pretty nigh all be bachelors. i might add that you can't trust a man's taste on women, either, and that's pretty lucky, too, because there are a good many old maids in the world as it is. one time or another chauncey lolled in the best room of every house in our town, and we used to wonder how he managed to browse up and down the streets that way without getting into the pound. i never found out till after i married your ma, and she told me chauncey's heart secrets. it really wasn't violating any confidence, because he'd told them to every girl in town. seems he used to get terribly sad as soon as he was left alone with a girl and began to hint about a tragedy in his past--something that had blighted his whole life and left him without the power to love again--and lots more slop from the same pail. of course, every girl in that town had known chauncey since he wore short pants, and ought to have known that the nearest to a tragedy he had ever been was when he sat in the top gallery of a chicago theatre and saw a lot of barnstormers play othello. but some people, and especially very young people, don't think anything's worth believing unless it's hard to believe. chauncey worked along these lines until he was twenty-four, and then he made a mistake. most of the girls that he had grown up with had married off, and while he was waiting for a new lot to come along, he began to shine up to the widow sharpless, a powerful, well-preserved woman of forty or thereabouts, who had been born with her eye-teeth cut. he found her uncommon sympathetic. and when chauncey finally came out of his trance he was the stepfather of the widow's four children. she was very kind to chauncey, and treated him like one of her own sons; but she was very, very firm. there was no gallivanting off alone, and when they went out in double harness strangers used to annoy him considerable by patting him on the head and saying to his wife: "what a bright-looking chap your son is, mrs. hoskins!" she was almost seventy when chauncey buried her a while back, and they say that he began to take notice again on the way home from the funeral. anyway, he crowded his mourning into sixty days--and i reckon there was plenty of room in them to hold all his grief without stretching--and his courting into another sixty. and four months after date he presented his matrimonial papers for acceptance. said he was tired of this mother-and-son foolishness, and wasn't going to leave any room for doubt this time. didn't propose to have people sizing his wife up for one of his ancestors any more. so he married lulu littlebrown, who was just turned eighteen. chauncey was over fifty then, and wizened up like a late pippin that has been out overnight in an early frost. he took lu to chicago for the honeymoon, and mose greenebaum, who happened to be going up to town for his fall goods, got into the parlor car with them. by and by the porter came around and stopped beside chauncey. "wouldn't your daughter like a pillow under her head?" says he. chauncey just groaned. then--"git; you senegambian son of darkness!" and the porter just naturally got. mose had been taking it all in, and now he went back to the smoking-room and passed the word along to the drummers there. every little while one of them would lounge up the aisle to chauncey and ask if he couldn't lend his daughter a magazine, or give her an orange, or bring her a drink. and the language that he gave back in return for these courtesies wasn't at all fitting in a bridegroom. then mose had another happy thought, and dropped off at a way station and wired the clerk at the palmer house. when they got to the hotel the clerk was on the lookout for them, and chauncey hadn't more than signed his name before he reached out over his diamond and said: "ah, mr. hoskins; would you like to have your daughter near you?" i simply mention chauncey in passing as an example of the foolishness of thinking you can take any chances with a woman who has really decided that she wants to marry, or that you can average up matrimonial mistakes. and i want you to remember that marrying the wrong girl is the one mistake that you've got to live with all your life. i think, though, that if you tell mabel what your assets are, she'll decide she won't be your particular mistake. your affectionate father, john graham. +----------------------------+ | no. | +----------------------------+ | from john graham, at the | | union stock yards in | | chicago, to his son, | | pierrepont, at the | | commercial house, | | jeffersonville, indiana. | | mr. pierrepont has been | | promoted to the position | | of traveling salesman | | for the house, and has | | started out on the road. | +----------------------------+ x chicago, march , - _dear pierrepont:_ when i saw you start off yesterday i was just a little uneasy; for you looked so blamed important and chesty that i am inclined to think you will tell the first customer who says he doesn't like our sausage that he knows what he can do about it. repartee makes reading lively, but business dull. and what the house needs is more orders. sausage is the one subject of all others that a fellow in the packing business ought to treat solemnly. half the people in the world take a joke seriously from the start, and the other half if you repeat it often enough. only last week the head of our sausage department started to put out a tin-tag brand of frankfurts, but i made him take it off the market quicker than lightning, because i knew that the first fool who saw the tin-tag would ask if that was the license. and, though people would grin a little at first, they'd begin to look serious after a while; and whenever the butcher tried to sell them our brand they'd imagine they heard the bark, and ask for "that real country sausage" at twice as much a pound. he laughs best who doesn't laugh at all when he's dealing with the public. it has been my experience that, even when a man has a sense of humor, it only really carries him to the point where he will join in a laugh at the expense of the other fellow. there's nothing in the world sicker-looking than the grin of the man who's trying to join in heartily when the laugh's on him, and to pretend that he likes it. speaking of sausage with a registered pedigree calls to mind a little experience that i had last year. a fellow came into the office here with a shriveled-up toy spaniel, one of those curly, hairy little fellows that a woman will kiss, and then grumble because a fellow's mustache tickles. said he wanted to sell him. i wasn't really disposed to add a dog to my troubles, but on general principles i asked him what he wanted for the little cuss. [illustration: "_you looked so blamed important and chesty when you started off._"] the fellow hawed and choked and wiped away a tear. finally, he fetched out that he loved the dog like a son, and that it broke his heart to think of parting with him; that he wouldn't dare look dandy in the face after he had named the price he was asking for him, and that it was the record-breaking, marked-down sacrifice sale of the year on dogs; that it wasn't really money he was after, but a good home for the little chap. said that i had a rather pleasant face and he knew that he could trust me to treat dandy kindly; so--as a gift--he would let me have him for five hundred. "cents?" says i. "dollars," says he, without blinking. "it ought to be a mastiff at that price," says i. "if you thought more of quality," says he, in a tone of sort of dignified reproof, "and less of quantity, your brand would enjoy a better reputation." i was pretty hot, i can tell you, but i had laid myself open, so i just said: "the sausage business is too poor to warrant our paying any such price for light-weights. bring around a bigger dog and then we'll talk;" but the fellow only shook his head sadly, whistled to dandy, and walked off. i simply mention this little incident as an example of the fact that when a man cracks a joke in the middle ages he's apt to affect the sausage market in the nineteenth century, and to lay open an honest butcher to the jeers of every dog-stealer in the street. there's such a thing as carrying a joke too far, and the fellow who keeps on pretending to believe that he's paying for pork and getting dog is pretty apt to get dog in the end. but all that aside, i want you to get it firmly fixed in your mind right at the start that this trip is only an experiment, and that i am not at all sure you were cut out by the lord to be a drummer. but you can figure on one thing--that you will never become the pride of the pond by starting out to cut figure eights before you are firm on your skates. a real salesman is one-part talk and nine-parts judgment; and he uses the nine-parts of judgment to tell when to use the one-part of talk. goods ain't sold under marquess of queensberry rules any more, and you'll find that knowing how many rounds the old 'un can last against the boiler-maker won't really help you to load up the junior partner with our corn-fed brand hams. a good many salesmen have an idea that buyers are only interested in baseball, and funny stories, and tom lipton, and that business is a side line with them; but as a matter of fact mighty few men work up to the position of buyer through giving up their office hours to listening to anecdotes. i never saw one that liked a drummer's jokes more than an eighth of a cent a pound on a tierce of lard. what the house really sends you out for is orders. of course, you want to be nice and mellow with the trade, but always remember that mellowness carried too far becomes rottenness. you can buy some fellows with a cheap cigar and some with a cheap compliment, and there's no objection to giving a man what he likes, though i never knew smoking to do anything good except a ham, or flattery to help any one except to make a fool of himself. real buyers ain't interested in much besides your goods and your prices. never run down your competitor's brand to them, and never let them run down yours. don't get on your knees for business, but don't hold your nose so high in the air that an order can travel under it without your seeing it. you'll meet a good many people on the road that you won't like, but the house needs their business. some fellows will tell you that we play the hose on our dry salt meat before we ship it, and that it shrinks in transit like a baxter street jew's all-wool suits in a rainstorm; that they wonder how we manage to pack solid gristle in two-pound cans without leaving a little meat hanging to it; and that the last car of lard was so strong that it came back of its own accord from every retailer they shipped it to. the first fellow will be lying, and the second will be exaggerating, and the third may be telling the truth. with him you must settle on the spot; but always remember that a man who's making a claim never underestimates his case, and that you can generally compromise for something less than the first figure. with the second you must sympathize, and say that the matter will be reported to headquarters and the boss of the canning-room called up on the carpet and made to promise that it will never happen again. with the first you needn't bother. there's no use feeding expensive "hen food" to an old dominick that sucks eggs. the chances are that the car weighed out more than it was billed, and that the fellow played the hose on it himself and added a thousand pounds of cheap salt before he jobbed it out to his trade. where you're going to slip up at first is in knowing which is which, but if you don't learn pretty quick you'll not travel very far for the house. for your own satisfaction i will say right here that you may know you are in a fair way of becoming a good drummer by three things: first--when you send us orders. second--more orders. third--big orders. if you do this you won't have a great deal of time to write long letters, and we won't have a great deal of time to read them, for we will be very, very busy here making and shipping the goods. we aren't specially interested in orders that the other fellow gets, or in knowing how it happened after it has happened. if you like life on the road you simply won't let it happen. so just send us your address every day and your orders. they will tell us all that we want to know about "the situation." i was cured of sending information to the house when i was very, very young--in fact, on the first trip which i made on the road. i was traveling out of chicago for hammer & hawkins, wholesale dry-goods, gents' furnishings and notions. they started me out to round up trade in the river towns down egypt ways, near cairo. i hadn't more than made my first town and sized up the population before i began to feel happy, because i saw that business ought to be very good there. it appeared as if everybody in that town needed something in my line. the clerk of the hotel where i registered wore a dicky and his cuffs were tied to his neck by pieces of string run up his sleeves, and most of the merchants on main street were in their shirt-sleeves--at least those that had shirts were--and so far as i could judge there wasn't a whole pair of galluses among them. some were using wire, some a little rope, and others just faith--buckled extra tight. pride of the prairie xxx flour sacks seemed to be the nobby thing in boys' suitings there. take it by and large, if ever there was a town which looked as if it had a big, short line of dry-goods, gents' furnishings and notions to cover, it was that one. but when i caught the proprietor of the general store during a lull in the demand for navy plug, he wouldn't even look at my samples, and when i began to hint that the people were pretty ornery dressers he reckoned that he "would paste me one if i warn't so young." wanted to know what i meant by coming swelling around in song-and-dance clothes and getting funny at the expense of people who made their living honestly. allowed that when it came to a humorous get-up my clothes were the original end-man's gag. i noticed on the way back to the hotel that every fellow holding up a hitching-post was laughing, and i began to look up and down the street for the joke, not understanding at first that the reason why i couldn't see it was because i was it. right there i began to learn that, while the prince of wales may wear the correct thing in hats, it's safer when you're out of his sphere of influence to follow the styles that the hotel clerk sets; that the place to sell clothes is in the city, where every one seems to have plenty of them; and that the place to sell mess pork is in the country, where every one keeps hogs. that is why when a fellow comes to me for advice about moving to a new country, where there are more opportunities, i advise him--if he is built right--to go to an old city where there is more money. i wrote in to the house pretty often on that trip, explaining how it was, going over the whole situation very carefully, and telling what our competitors were doing, wherever i could find that they were doing anything. i gave old hammer credit for more curiosity than he possessed, because when i reached cairo i found a telegram from him reading: "_know what our competitors are doing: they are getting all the trade. but what are you doing?_" i saw then that the time for explaining was gone and that the moment for resigning had arrived; so i just naturally sent in my resignation. that is what we will expect from you--or orders. your affectionate father, john graham. +-----------------------------+ | no. | +-----------------------------+ | from john graham, at the | | union stock yards in | | chicago, to his son, | | pierrepont, at the | | planters' palace hotel, | | at big gap, kentucky. mr. | | pierrepont's orders are | | small and his expenses | | are large, so his father | | feels pessimistic over | | his prospects. | +-----------------------------+ xi chicago, april , - _dear pierrepont:_ you ought to be feeling mighty thankful to-day to the fellow who invented fractions, because while your selling cost for last month was within the limit, it took a good deal of help from the decimal system to get it there. you are in the position of the boy who was chased by the bull--open to congratulations because he reached the tree first, and to condolence because a fellow up a tree, in the middle of a forty-acre lot, with a disappointed bull for company, is in a mighty bad fix. i don't want to bear down hard on you right at the beginning of your life on the road, but i would feel a good deal happier over your showing if you would make a downright failure or a clean-cut success once in a while, instead of always just skinning through this way. it looks to me as if you were trying only half as hard as you could, and in trying it's the second half that brings results. if there's one piece of knowledge that is of less use to a fellow than knowing when he's beat, it's knowing when he's done just enough work to keep from being fired. of course, you are bright enough to be a half-way man, and to hold a half-way place on a half-way salary by doing half the work you are capable of, but you've got to add dynamite and ginger and jounce to your equipment if you want to get the other half that's coming to you. you've got to believe that the lord made the first hog with the graham brand burned in the skin, and that the drove which rushed down a steep place was packed by a competitor. you've got to know your goods from a to izzard, from snout to tail, on the hoof and in the can. you've got to know 'em like a young mother knows baby talk, and to be as proud of 'em as the young father of a twelve-pound boy, without really thinking that you're stretching it four pounds. you've got to believe in yourself and make your buyers take stock in you at par and accrued interest. you've got to have the scent of a bloodhound for an order, and the grip of a bulldog on a customer. you've got to feel the same personal solicitude over a bill of goods that strays off to a competitor as a parson over a backslider, and hold special services to bring it back into the fold. you've got to get up every morning with determination if you're going to go to bed with satisfaction. you've got to eat hog, think hog, dream hog--in short, go the whole hog if you're going to win out in the pork-packing business. that's a pretty liberal receipt, i know, but it's intended for a fellow who wants to make a good-sized pie. and the only thing you ever find in pastry that you don't put in yourself is flies. you have had a wide-open chance during the last few months to pick up a good deal about the practical end of the business, and between trips now you ought to spend every spare minute in the packing-house getting posted. nothing earns better interest than judicious questions, and the man who invests in more knowledge of the business than he has to have in order to hold his job has capital with which to buy a mortgage on a better one. i may be mistaken, but i am just a little afraid that you really did not get beyond a bowing acquaintance with mr. porker when you were here at the packing-house. of course, there isn't anything particularly pretty about a hog, but any animal which has its kindly disposition and benevolent inclination to yield up a handsome margin of profit to those who get close to it, is worthy of a good deal of respect and attention. i ain't one of those who believe that a half knowledge of a subject is useless, but it has been my experience that when a fellow has that half knowledge he finds it's the other half which would really come in handy. so, when a man's in the selling end of the business what he really needs to know is the manufacturing end; and when he's in the factory he can't know too much about the trade. you're just about due now to run into a smart aleck buyer who'll show you a sample of lard which he'll say was made by a competitor, and ask what you think the grand jury ought to do to a house which had the nerve to label it "leaf." of course, you will nose around it and look wise and say that, while you hesitate to criticize, you are afraid it would smell like a hot-box on a freight if any one tried to fry doughnuts in it. that is the place where the buyer will call for jack and charlie to get in on the laugh, and when he has wiped away the tears he will tell you that it is your own lard, and prove it to you. of course, there won't be anything really the matter with it, and if you had been properly posted you would have looked surprised when he showed it to you and have said: "i don't quite diagnose the case your way, mr. smith; that's a blamed sight better lard than i thought muggins & co. were making." and you'd have driven a spike right through that fellow's little joke and have nailed down his order hard and tight with the same blow. what you know is a club for yourself, and what you don't know is a meat-ax for the other fellow. that is why you want to be on the lookout all the time for information about the business, and to nail a fact just as a sensible man nails a mosquito--the first time it settles near him. of course, a fellow may get another chance, but the odds are that if he misses the first opening he will lose a good deal of blood before he gets the second. [illustration: "_josh jenkinson would eat a little food now and then just to be sociable, but what he really lived on was tobacco._"] speaking of finishing up a subject as you go along naturally calls to mind the case of josh jenkinson, back in my home town. as i first remember josh, he was just bone and by-products. wasn't an ounce of real meat on him. in fact, he was so blamed thin that when he bought an outfit of clothes his wife used to make them over into two suits for him. josh would eat a little food now and then, just to be sociable, but what he really lived on was tobacco. usually kept a chew in one cheek and a cob pipe in the other. he was a powerful hand for a joke and had one of those porous heads and movable scalps which go with a sense of humor in a small village. used to scare us boys by drawing in on his pipe and letting the smoke sort of leak out through his eyes and ears and nose. pretended that he was the devil and that he was on fire inside. old doc hoover caught him at it once and told us that he wasn't, but allowed that he was a blood relation. elder hoover was a methodist off the tip of the sirloin. there weren't any evasions or generalities or metaphors in his religion. the lower layers of the hereafter weren't hades or gehenna with him, but just plain hell, and mighty hot, too, you bet. his creed was built of sheet iron and bolted together with inch rivets. he kept the fire going under the boiler night and day, and he was so blamed busy stoking it that he didn't have much time to map out the golden streets. when he blew off it was super-heated steam and you could see the sinners who were in range fairly sizzle and parboil and shrivel up. there was no give in doc; no compromises with creditors; no fire sales. he wasn't one of those elders who would let a fellow dance the lancers if he'd swear off on waltzing; or tell him it was all right to play whist in the parlor if he'd give up penny-ante at the dutchman's; or wink at his smoking if he'd quit whisky. josh knew this, so he kept away from the camp-meeting, though the elder gunned for him pretty steady for a matter of five years. but one summer when the meetings were extra interesting, it got so lonesome sitting around with the whole town off in the woods that josh sneaked out to the edge of the camp and hid behind some bushes where he could hear what was going on. the elder was carrying about two hundred and fifty pounds, by the gauge, that day, and with that pressure he naturally traveled into the sinners pretty fast. the first thing josh knew he was out from under cover and a-hallelujahing down between the seats to the mourners' bench. when the elder saw what was coming he turned on the forced draft. inside of ten minutes he had josh under conviction and had taken his pipe and plug away from him. i am just a little inclined to think that josh would have backslid if he hadn't been a practical joker, and a critter of that breed is about as afraid of a laugh on himself as a raw colt of a steam roller. so he stuck it out, and began to take an interest in meal time. kicked because it didn't come eight or ten times a day. the first thing he knew he had fatted up till he filled out his half suit and had to put it away in camphor. then he bought a whole suit, living-skeleton size. in two weeks he had strained a shoulder seam and looked as if he was wearing tights. so he retired it from circulation and moved up a size. that one was a little loose, and it took him a good month to crowd it. josh was a pretty hefty man now, but he kept right on bulging out, building on an addition here and putting out a bay window there, all the time retiring new suits, until his wife had fourteen of them laid away in the chest. said it didn't worry him; that he was bound to lose flesh sooner or later. that he would catch them on the way down, and wear them out one at a time. but when he got up to three hundred and fifty pounds he just stuck. tried exercise and dieting and foreign waters, but he couldn't budge an ounce. in the end he had to give the clothes to the widow doolan, who had fourteen sons in assorted sizes. i simply mention josh in passing as an example of the fact that a fellow can't bank on getting a chance to go back and take up a thing that he has passed over once, and to call your attention to the fact that a man who knows his own business thoroughly will find an opportunity sooner or later of reaching the most hardened cuss of a buyer on his route and of getting a share of his. i want to caution you right here against learning all there is to know about pork-packing too quick. business is a good deal like a nigger's wool--it doesn't look very deep, but there are a heap of kinks and curves in it. when i was a boy and the fellow in pink tights came into the ring, i used to think he was doing all that could be reasonably expected when he kept eight or ten glass balls going in the air at once. but the beautiful lady in the blue tights would keep right on handing him things--kerosene lamps and carving knives and miscellaneous cutlery and crockery, and he would get them going, too, without losing his happy smile. the great trouble with most young fellows is that they think they have learned all they need to know and have given the audience its money's worth when they can keep the glass balls going, and so they balk at the kerosene lamps and the rest of the implements of light housekeeping. but there's no real limit to the amount of extras a fellow with the right stuff in him will take on without losing his grin. i want to see you come up smiling; i want to feel you in the business, not only on pay day but every other day. i want to know that you are running yourself full time and overtime, stocking up your brain so that when the demand comes you will have the goods to offer. so far, you promise to make a fair to ordinary salesman among our retail trade. i want to see you grow into a car-lot man--so strong and big that you will force us to see that you are out of place among the little fellows. buck up! your affectionate father, john graham. +---------------------------+ | no. | +---------------------------+ | from john graham, at | | the union stock yards | | in chicago, to his son, | | pierrepont, at little | | delmonico's, prairie | | centre, indiana. mr. | | pierrepont has annoyed | | his father by accepting | | his criticisms in a | | spirit of gentle, but | | most reprehensible, | | resignation. | +---------------------------+ xii chicago, april , - _dear pierrepont:_ don't ever write me another of those sad, sweet, gentle sufferer letters. it's only natural that a colt should kick a trifle when he's first hitched up to the break wagon, and i'm always a little suspicious of a critter that stands too quiet under the whip. i know it's not meekness, but meanness, that i've got to fight, and it's hard to tell which is the worst. the only animal which the bible calls patient is an ass, and that's both good doctrine and good natural history. for i had to make considerable of a study of the missouri mule when i was a boy, and i discovered that he's not really patient, but that he only pretends to be. you can cuss him out till you've nothing but holy thoughts left in you to draw on, and you can lay the rawhide on him till he's striped like a circus zebra, and if you're cautious and reserved in his company he will just look grieved and pained and resigned. but all the time that mule will be getting meaner and meaner inside, adding compound cussedness every thirty days, and practicing drop kicks in his stall after dark. of course, nothing in this world is wholly bad, not even a mule, for he is half horse. but my observation has taught me that the horse half of him is the front half, and that the only really safe way to drive him is hind-side first. i suppose that you could train one to travel that way, but it really doesn't seem worth while when good roadsters are so cheap. that's the way i feel about these young fellows who lazy along trying to turn in at every gate where there seems to be a little shade, and sulking and balking whenever you say "git-ap" to them. they are the men who are always howling that bill smith was promoted because he had a pull, and that they are being held down because the manager is jealous of them. i've seen a good many pulls in my time, but i never saw one strong enough to lift a man any higher than he could raise himself by his boot straps, or long enough to reach through the cashier's window for more money than its owner earned. when a fellow brags that he has a pull, he's a liar or his employer's a fool. and when a fellow whines that he's being held down, the truth is, as a general thing, that his boss can't hold him up. he just picks a nice, soft spot, stretches out flat on his back, and yells that some heartless brute has knocked him down and is sitting on his chest. a good man is as full of bounce as a cat with a small boy and a bull terrier after him. when he's thrown to the dog from the second-story window, he fixes while he's sailing through the air to land right, and when the dog jumps for the spot where he hits, he isn't there, but in the top of the tree across the street. he's a good deal like the little red-headed cuss that we saw in the football game you took me to. every time the herd stampeded it would start in to trample and paw and gore him. one minute the whole bunch would be on top of him and the next he would be loping off down the range, spitting out hair and pieces of canvas jacket, or standing on one side as cool as a hog on ice, watching the mess unsnarl and the removal of the cripples. i didn't understand football, but i understood that little sawed-off. he knew his business. and when a fellow knows his business, he doesn't have to explain to people that he does. it isn't what a man knows, but what he thinks he knows that he brags about. big talk means little knowledge. there's a vast difference between having a carload of miscellaneous facts sloshing around loose in your head and getting all mixed up in transit, and carrying the same assortment properly boxed and crated for convenient handling and immediate delivery. a ham never weighs so much as when it's half cured. when it has soaked in all the pickle that it can, it has to sweat out most of it in the smoke-house before it is any real good; and when you've soaked up all the information you can hold, you will have to forget half of it before you will be of any real use to the house. if there's anything worse than knowing too little, it's knowing too much. education will broaden a narrow mind, but there's no known cure for a big head. the best you can hope is that it will swell up and bust; and then, of course, there's nothing left. poverty never spoils a good man, but prosperity often does. it's easy to stand hard times, because that's the only thing you can do, but in good times the fool-killer has to do night work. i simply mention these things in a general way. a good many of them don't apply to you, no doubt, but it won't do any harm to make sure. most men get cross-eyed when they come to size themselves up, and see an angel instead of what they're trying to look at. there's nothing that tells the truth to a woman like a mirror, or that lies harder to a man. what i am sure of is that you have got the sulks too quick. if you knew all that you'll have to learn before you'll be a big, broad-gauged merchant, you might have something to be sulky about. when you've posted yourself properly about the business you'll have taken a step in the right direction--you will be able to get your buyer's attention. all the other steps are those which lead you into his confidence. right here you will discover that you are in the fix of the young fellow who married his best girl and took her home to live with his mother. he found that the only way in which he could make one happy was by making the other mad, and that when he tried to make them both happy he only succeeded in making them both mad. naturally, in the end, his wife divorced him and his mother disinherited him, and left her money to an orphan asylum, because, as she sensibly observed in the codicil, "orphans can not be ungrateful to their parents." but if the man had had a little tact he would have kept them in separate houses, and have let each one think that she was getting a trifle the best of it, without really giving it to either. tact is the knack of keeping quiet at the right time; of being so agreeable yourself that no one can be disagreeable to you; of making inferiority feel like equality. a tactful man can pull the stinger from a bee without getting stung. some men deal in facts, and call bill jones a liar. they get knocked down. some men deal in subterfuges, and say that bill jones' father was a kettle-rendered liar, and that his mother's maiden name was sapphira, and that any one who believes in the darwinian theory should pity rather than blame their son. they get disliked. but your tactful man says that since baron munchausen no one has been so chuck full of bully reminiscences as bill jones; and when that comes back to bill he is half tickled to death, because he doesn't know that the higher criticism has hurt the baron's reputation. that man gets the trade. there are two kinds of information: one to which everybody's entitled, and that is taught at school; and one which nobody ought to know except yourself, and that is what you think of bill jones. of course, where you feel a man is not square you will be armed to meet him, but never on his own ground. make him be honest with you if you can, but don't let him make you dishonest with him. when you make a mistake, don't make the second one--keeping it to yourself. own up. the time to sort out rotten eggs is at the nest. the deeper you hide them in the case the longer they stay in circulation, and the worse impression they make when they finally come to the breakfast-table. a mistake sprouts a lie when you cover it up. and one lie breeds enough distrust to choke out the prettiest crop of confidence that a fellow ever cultivated. of course, it's easy to have the confidence of the house, or the confidence of the buyer, but you've got to have both. the house pays you your salary, and the buyer helps you earn it. if you skin the buyer you will lose your trade; and if you play tag with the house you will lose your job. you've simply got to walk the fence straight, for if you step to either side you'll find a good deal of air under you. even after you are able to command the attention and the confidence of your buyers, you've got to be up and dressed all day to hold what trade is yours, and twisting and turning all night to wriggle into some of the other fellow's. when business is good, that is the time to force it, because it will come easy; and when it is bad, that is the time to force it, too, because we will need the orders. speaking of making trade naturally calls to my mind my old acquaintance, herr doctor paracelsus von munsterberg, who, when i was a boy, came to our town "fresh from his healing triumphs at the courts of europe," as his handbills ran, "not to make money, but to confer on suffering mankind the priceless boon of health; to make the sick well, and the well better." munsterberg wasn't one of your common, coarse, county-fair barkers. he was a pretty high-toned article. had nice, curly black hair and didn't spare the bear's grease. wore a silk hat and a prince albert coat all the time, except when he was orating, and then he shed the coat to get freer action with his arms. and when he talked he used the whole language, you bet. [illustration: "_herr doctor paracelsus von munsterberg was a pretty high-toned article._"] of course, the priceless boon was put up in bottles, labeled munsterberg's miraculous medical discovery, and, simply to introduce it, he was willing to sell the small size at fifty cents and the large one at a dollar. in addition to being a philanthropist the doctor was quite a hand at card tricks, played the banjo, sung coon songs and imitated a saw going through a board very creditably. all these accomplishments, and the story of how he cured the emperor of austria's sister with a single bottle, drew a crowd, but they didn't sell a drop of the discovery. nobody in town was really sick, and those who thought they were had stocked up the week before with quackenboss' quick quinine kure from a fellow that made just as liberal promises as munsterberg and sold the large size at fifty cents, including a handsome reproduction of an old master for the parlor. some fellows would just have cussed a little and have moved on to the next town, but munsterberg made a beautiful speech, praising the climate, and saying that in his humble capacity he had been privileged to meet the strength and beauty of many courts, but never had he been in any place where strength was stronger or beauty beautifuller than right here in hoskins' corners. he prayed with all his heart, though it was almost too much to hope, that the cholera, which was raging in kentucky, would pass this eden by; that the yellow fever, which was devastating tennessee, would halt abashed before this stronghold of health, though he felt bound to add that it was a peculiarly malignant and persistent disease; that the smallpox, which was creeping southward from canada, would smite the next town instead of ours, though he must own that it was no respecter of persons; that the diphtheria and scarlet-fever, which were sweeping over new england and crowding the graveyards, could be kept from crossing the hudson, though they were great travelers and it was well to be prepared for the worst; that we one and all might providentially escape chills, headaches, coated tongue, pains in the back, loss of sleep and that tired feeling, but it was almost too much to ask, even of such a generous climate. in any event, he begged us to beware of worthless nostrums and base imitations. it made him sad to think that to-day we were here and that to-morrow we were running up an undertaker's bill, all for the lack of a small bottle of medicine's greatest gift to man. i could see that this speech made a lot of women in the crowd powerful uneasy, and i heard the widow judkins say that she was afraid it was going to be "a mighty sickly winter," and she didn't know as it would do any harm to have some of that stuff in the house. but the doctor didn't offer the priceless boon for sale again. he went right from his speech into an imitation of a dog, with a tin can tied to his tail, running down main street and crawling under si hooper's store at the far end of it--an imitation, he told us, to which the sultan was powerful partial, "him being a cruel man and delighting in torturing the poor dumb beasts which the lord has given us to love, honor and cherish." he kept this sort of thing up till he judged it was our bedtime, and then he thanked us "one and all for our kind attention," and said that as his mission in life was to amuse as well as to heal, he would stay over till the next afternoon and give a special matinée for the little ones, whom he loved for the sake of his own golden-haired willie, back there over the rhine. naturally, all the women and children turned out the next afternoon, though the men had to be at work in the fields and the stores, and the doctor just made us roar for half an hour. then, while he was singing an uncommon funny song, mrs. brown's johnny let out a howl. the doctor stopped short. "bring the poor little sufferer here, madam, and let me see if i can soothe his agony," says he. mrs. brown was a good deal embarrassed and more scared, but she pushed johnny, yelling all the time, up to the doctor, who began tapping him on the back and looking down his throat. naturally, this made johnny cry all the harder, and his mother was beginning to explain that she "reckoned she must have stepped on his sore toe," when the doctor struck his forehead, cried "eureka!", whipped out a bottle of the priceless boon, and forced a spoonful of it into johnny's mouth. then he gave the boy three slaps on the back and three taps on the stomach, ran one hand along his windpipe, and took a small button-hook out of his mouth with the other. johnny made all his previous attempts at yelling sound like an imitation when he saw this, and he broke away and ran toward home. then the doctor stuck one hand in over the top of his vest, waved the button-hook in the other, and cried: "woman, your child is cured! your button-hook is found!" then he went on to explain that when baby swallowed safety-pins, or pennies, or fish-bones, or button-hooks, or any little household articles, that all you had to do was to give it a spoonful of the priceless boon, tap it gently fore and aft, hold your hand under its mouth, and the little article would drop out like chocolate from a slot machine. every one was talking at once, now, and nobody had any time for mrs. brown, who was trying to say something. finally she got mad and followed johnny home. half an hour later the doctor drove out of the corners, leaving his stock of the priceless boon distributed--for the usual consideration--among all the mothers in town. it was not until the next day that mrs. brown got a chance to explain that while the boon might be all that the doctor claimed for it, no one in her house had ever owned a button-hook, because her old man wore jack-boots and she wore congress shoes, and little johnny wore just plain feet. i simply mention the doctor in passing, not as an example in morals, but in methods. some salesmen think that selling is like eating--to satisfy an existing appetite; but a good salesman is like a good cook--he can create an appetite when the buyer isn't hungry. i don't care how good old methods are, new ones are better, even if they're only just as good. that's not so irish as it sounds. doing the same thing in the same way year after year is like eating a quail a day for thirty days. along toward the middle of the month a fellow begins to long for a broiled crow or a slice of cold dog. your affectionate father, john graham. +----------------------------+ | no. | +----------------------------+ | from john graham, at | | the union stock yards | | in chicago, to his son, | | pierrepont, care of the | | hoosier grocery co., | | indianapolis, indiana. | | mr. pierrepont's orders | | have been looking up, so | | the old man gives him a | | pat on the back--but not | | too hard a one. | +----------------------------+ xiii chicago, may , - _dear pierrepont:_ that order for a carload of spotless snow leaf from old shorter is the kind of back talk i like. we can stand a little more of the same sort of sassing. i have told the cashier that you will draw thirty a week after this, and i want you to have a nice suit of clothes made and send the bill to the old man. get something that won't keep people guessing whether you follow the horses or do buck and wing dancing for a living. your taste in clothes seems to be lasting longer than the rest of your college education. you looked like a young widow who had raised the second crop of daisies over the deceased when you were in here last week. of course, clothes don't make the man, but they make all of him except his hands and face during business hours, and that's a pretty considerable area of the human animal. a dirty shirt may hide a pure heart, but it seldom covers a clean skin. if you look as if you had slept in your clothes, most men will jump to the conclusion that you have, and you will never get to know them well enough to explain that your head is so full of noble thoughts that you haven't time to bother with the dandruff on your shoulders. and if you wear blue and white striped pants and a red necktie, you will find it difficult to get close enough to a deacon to be invited to say grace at his table, even if you never play for anything except coffee or beans. appearances are deceitful, i know, but so long as they are, there's nothing like having them deceive for us instead of against us. i've seen a ten-cent shave and a five-cent shine get a thousand-dollar job, and a cigarette and a pint of champagne knock the bottom out of a million-dollar pork corner. four or five years ago little jim jackson had the bears in the provision pit hibernating and living on their own fat till one morning, the day after he had run the price of mess pork up to twenty dollars and nailed it there, some one saw him drinking a small bottle just before he went on 'change, and told it round among the brokers on the floor. the bears thought jim must have had bad news, to be bracing up at that time in the morning, so they perked up and everlastingly sold the mess pork market down through the bottom of the pit to solid earth. there wasn't even a grease spot left of that corner when they got through. as it happened, jim hadn't had any bad news; he just took the drink because he felt pretty good, and things were coming his way. but it isn't enough to be all right in this world; you've got to look all right as well, because two-thirds of success is making people think you are all right. so you have to be governed by general rules, even though you may be an exception. people have seen four and four make eight, and the young man and the small bottle make a damned fool so often that they are hard to convince that the combination can work out any other way. the lord only allows so much fun for every man that he makes. some get it going fishing most of the time and making money the rest; some get it making money most of the time and going fishing the rest. you can take your choice, but the two lines of business don't gee. the more money, the less fish. the farther you go, the straighter you've got to walk. i used to get a heap of solid comfort out of chewing tobacco. picked up the habit in missouri, and took to it like a yankee to pie. at that time pretty much every one in those parts chewed, except the elder and the women, and most of them snuffed. seemed a nice, sociable habit, and i never thought anything special about it till i came north and your ma began to tell me it was a vile relic of barbarism, meaning missouri, i suppose. then i confined operations to my office and took to fine cut instead of plug, as being tonier. well, one day, about ten years ago, when i was walking through the office, i noticed one of the boys on the mailing-desk, a mighty likely-looking youngster, sort of working his jaws as he wrote. i didn't stop to think, but somehow i was mad in a minute. still, i didn't say a word--just stood and looked at him while he speeded up the way the boys will when they think the old man is nosing around to see whose salary he can raise next. i stood over him for a matter of five minutes, and all the time he was pretending not to see me at all. i will say that he was a pretty game boy, for he never weakened for a second. but at last, seeing he was about to choke to death, i said, sharp and sudden--"spit." well, sir, i thought it was a cloudburst. you can bet i was pretty hot, and i started in to curl up that young fellow to a crisp. but before i got out a word, something hit me all of a sudden, and i just went up to the boy and put my hand on his shoulder and said, "let's swear off, son." naturally, he swore off--he was so blamed scared that he would have quit breathing if i had asked him to, i reckon. and i had to take my stock of fine cut and send it to the heathen. i simply mention this little incident in passing as an example of the fact that a man can't do what he pleases in this world, because the higher he climbs the plainer people can see him. naturally, as the old man's son, you have a lot of fellows watching you and betting that you are no good. if you succeed they will say it was an accident; and if you fail they will say it was a cinch. there are two unpardonable sins in this world--success and failure. those who succeed can't forgive a fellow for being a failure, and those who fail can't forgive him for being a success. if you do succeed, though, you will be too busy to bother very much about what the failures think. i dwell a little on this matter of appearances because so few men are really thinking animals. where one fellow reads a stranger's character in his face, a hundred read it in his get-up. we have shown a dozen breeds of dukes and droves of college presidents and doctors of divinity through the packing-house, and the workmen never noticed them except to throw livers at them when they got in their way. but when john l. sullivan went through the stock yards it just simply shut down the plant. the men quit the benches with a yell and lined up to cheer him. you see, john looked his job, and you didn't have to explain to the men that he was the real thing in prize-fighters. of course, when a fellow gets to the point where he is something in particular, he doesn't have to care because he doesn't look like anything special; but while a young fellow isn't anything in particular, it is a mighty valuable asset if he looks like something special. just here i want to say that while it's all right for the other fellow to be influenced by appearances, it's all wrong for you to go on them. back up good looks by good character yourself, and make sure that the other fellow does the same. a suspicious man makes trouble for himself, but a cautious one saves it. because there ain't any rotten apples in the top layer, it ain't always safe to bet that the whole barrel is sound. [illustration: "_when john l. sullivan went through the stock yards, it just simply shut down the plant._"] a man doesn't snap up a horse just because he looks all right. as a usual thing that only makes him wonder what really is the matter that the other fellow wants to sell. so he leads the nag out into the middle of a ten-acre lot, where the light will strike him good and strong, and examines every hair of his hide, as if he expected to find it near-seal, or some other base imitation; and he squints under each hoof for the grand hailing sign of distress; and he peeks down his throat for dark secrets. if the horse passes this degree the buyer drives him twenty or thirty miles, expecting him to turn out a roarer, or to find that he balks, or shies, or goes lame, or develops some other horse nonsense. if after all that there are no bad symptoms, he offers fifty less than the price asked, on general principles, and for fear he has missed something. take men and horses, by and large, and they run pretty much the same. there's nothing like trying a man in harness a while before you bind yourself to travel very far with him. i remember giving a nice-looking, clean-shaven fellow a job on the billing-desk, just on his looks, but he turned out such a poor hand at figures that i had to fire him at the end of a week. it seemed that the morning he struck me for the place he had pawned his razor for fifteen cents in order to get a shave. naturally, if i had known that in the first place i wouldn't have hired him as a human arithmetic. another time i had a collector that i set a heap of store by. always handled himself just right when he talked to you and kept himself looking right up to the mark. his salary wasn't very big, but he had such a persuasive way that he seemed to get a dollar and a half's worth of value out of every dollar that he earned. never crowded the fashions and never gave 'em any slack. if sashes were the thing with summer shirts, why charlie had a sash, you bet, and when tight trousers were the nobby trick in pants, charlie wore his double reefed. take him fore and aft, charlie looked all right and talked all right--always careful, always considerate, always polite. one noon, after he had been with me for a year or two, i met him coming in from his route looking glum; so i handed him fifty dollars as a little sweetener. i never saw a fifty cheer a man up like that one did charlie, and he thanked me just right--didn't stutter and didn't slop over. i earmarked charlie for a raise and a better job right there. just after that i got mixed up with some work in my private office and i didn't look around again till on toward closing time. then, right outside my door i met the office manager, and he looked mighty glum, too. "i was just going to knock on your door," said he. "well?" i asked. "charlie chasenberry is eight hundred dollars short in his collections." "um--m," i said, without blinking, but i had a gone feeling just the same. "i had a plain-clothes man here to arrest him this evening, but he didn't come in." "looks as if he'd skipped, eh?" i asked. "i'm afraid so, but i don't know how. he didn't have a dollar this morning, because he tried to overdraw his salary account and i wouldn't let him, and he didn't collect any bills to-day because he had already collected everything that was due this week and lost it bucking the tiger." i didn't say anything, but i suspected that there was a sucker somewhere in the office. the next day i was sure of it, for i got a telegram from the always polite and thoughtful charlie, dated at montreal: "many, many thanks, dear mr. graham, for your timely assistance." careful as usual, you see, about the little things, for there were just ten words in the message. but that "many, many thanks, dear mr. graham," was the closest to slopping over i had ever known him to come. i consider the little lesson that charlie gave me as cheap at eight hundred and fifty dollars, and i pass it along to you because it may save you a thousand or two on your experience account. your affectionate father, john graham. +----------------------------+ | no. | +----------------------------+ | from john graham, at the | | union stock yards in | | chicago, to his son, | | pierrepont, at the | | travelers' rest, new | | albany, indiana. mr. | | pierrepont has taken a | | little flyer in short | | ribs on 'change, and has | | accidentally come into | | the line of his father's | | vision. | +----------------------------+ xiv chicago, july , - _dear pierrepont:_ i met young horshey, of horshey & horter, the grain and provision brokers, at luncheon yesterday, and while we were talking over the light run of hogs your name came up somehow, and he congratulated me on having such a smart son. like an old fool, i allowed that you were bright enough to come in out of the rain if somebody called you, though i ought to have known better, for it seems as if i never start in to brag about your being sound and sweet that i don't have to wind up by allowing a rebate for skippers. horshey was so blamed anxious to show that you were over-weight--he wants to handle some of my business on 'change--that he managed to prove you a light-weight. told me you had ordered him to sell a hundred thousand ribs short last week, and that he had just bought them in on a wire from you at a profit of four hundred and sixty-odd dollars. i was mighty hot, you bet, to know that you had been speculating, but i had to swallow and allow that you were a pretty sharp boy. i told horshey to close out the account and send me a check for your profits and i would forward it, as i wanted to give you a tip on the market before you did any more trading. i inclose the check herewith. please indorse it over to the treasurer of the home for half orphans and return at once. i will see that he gets it with your compliments. now, i want to give you that tip on the market. there are several reasons why it isn't safe for you to trade on 'change just now, but the particular one is that graham & co. will fire you if you do. trading on margin is a good deal like paddling around the edge of the old swimming hole--it seems safe and easy at first, but before a fellow knows it he has stepped off the edge into deep water. the wheat pit is only thirty feet across, but it reaches clear down to hell. and trading on margin means trading on the ragged edge of nothing. when a man buys, he's buying something that the other fellow hasn't got. when a man sells, he's selling something that he hasn't got. and it's been my experience that the net profit on nothing is nit. when a speculator wins he don't stop till he loses, and when he loses he can't stop till he wins. you have been in the packing business long enough now to know that it takes a bull only thirty seconds to lose his hide; and if you'll believe me when i tell you that they can skin a bear just as quick on 'change, you won't have a board of trade indian using your pelt for a rug during the long winter months. because you are the son of a pork packer you may think that you know a little more than the next fellow about paper pork. there's nothing in it. the poorest men on earth are the relations of millionaires. when i sell futures on 'change, they're against hogs that are traveling into dry salt at the rate of one a second, and if the market goes up on me i've got the solid meat to deliver. but, if you lose, the only part of the hog which you can deliver is the squeal. i wouldn't bear down so hard on this matter if money was the only thing that a fellow could lose on 'change. but if a clerk sells pork, and the market goes down, he's mighty apt to get a lot of ideas with holes in them and bad habits as the small change of his profits. and if the market goes up, he's likely to go short his self-respect to win back his money. most men think that they can figure up all their assets in dollars and cents, but a merchant may owe a hundred thousand dollars and be solvent. a man's got to lose more than money to be broke. when a fellow's got a straight backbone and a clear eye his creditors don't have to lie awake nights worrying over his liabilities. you can hide your meanness from your brain and your tongue, but the eye and the backbone won't keep secrets. when the tongue lies, the eyes tell the truth. i know you'll think that the old man is bucking and kicking up a lot of dust over a harmless little flyer. but i've kept a heap smarter boys than you out of joliet when they found it easy to feed the board of trade hog out of my cash drawer, after it had sucked up their savings in a couple of laps. you must learn not to overwork a dollar any more than you would a horse. three per cent. is a small load for it to draw; six, a safe one; when it pulls in ten for you it's likely working out west and you've got to watch to see that it doesn't buck; when it makes twenty you own a blame good critter or a mighty foolish one, and you want to make dead sure which; but if it draws a hundred it's playing the races or something just as hard on horses and dollars, and the first thing you know you won't have even a carcass to haul to the glue factory. i dwell a little on this matter of speculation because you've got to live next door to the board of trade all your life, and it's a safe thing to know something about a neighbor's dogs before you try to pat them. sure things, straight tips and dead cinches will come running out to meet you, wagging their tails and looking as innocent as if they hadn't just killed a lamb, but they'll bite. the only safe road to follow in speculation leads straight away from the board of trade on the dead run. speaking of sure things naturally calls to mind the case of my old friend deacon wiggleford, whom i used to know back in missouri years ago. the deacon was a powerful pious man, and he was good according to his lights, but he didn't use a very superior article of kerosene to keep them burning. used to take up half the time in prayer-meeting talking about how we were all weak vessels and stewards. but he was so blamed busy exhorting others to give out of the fullness with which the lord had blessed them that he sort of forgot that the lord had blessed him about fifty thousand dollars' worth, and put it all in mighty safe property, too, you bet. the deacon had a brother in chicago whom he used to call a sore trial. brother bill was a broker on the board of trade, and, according to the deacon, he was not only engaged in a mighty sinful occupation, but he was a mighty poor steward of his sinful gains. smoked two-bit cigars and wore a plug hat. drank a little and cussed a little and went to the episcopal church, though he had been raised a methodist. altogether it looked as if bill was a pretty hard nut. well, one fall the deacon decided to go to chicago himself to buy his winter goods, and naturally he hiked out to brother bill's to stay, which was considerable cheaper for him than the palmer house, though, as he told us when he got back, it made him sick to see the waste. the deacon had his mouth all fixed to tell brother bill that, in his opinion, he wasn't much better than a faro dealer, for he used to brag that he never let anything turn him from his duty, which meant his meddling in other people's business. i want to say right here that with most men duty means something unpleasant which the other fellow ought to do. as a matter of fact, a man's first duty is to mind his own business. it's been my experience that it takes about all the thought and work which one man can give to run one man right, and if a fellow's putting in five or six hours a day on his neighbor's character, he's mighty apt to scamp the building of his own. well, when brother bill got home from business that first night, the deacon explained that every time he lit a two-bit cigar he was depriving a zulu of twenty-five helpful little tracts which might have made a better man of him; that fast horses were a snare and plug hats a wile of the enemy; that the board of trade was the temple of belial and the brokers on it his sons and servants. brother bill listened mighty patiently to him, and when the deacon had pumped out all the scripture that was in him, and was beginning to suck air, he sort of slunk into the conversation like a setter pup that's been caught with the feathers on its chops. "brother zeke," says he, "i shall certainly let your words soak in. i want to be a number two red, hard, sound and clean sort of a man, and grade contract on delivery day. perhaps, as you say, the rust has got into me and the inspector won't pass me, and if i can see it that way i'll settle my trades and get out of the market for good." the deacon knew that brother bill had scraped together considerable property, and, as he was a bachelor, it would come to him in case the broker was removed by any sudden dispensation. what he really feared was that this money might be fooled away in high living and speculation. and so he had banged away into the middle of the flock, hoping to bring down those two birds. now that it began to look as if he might kill off the whole bunch he started in to hedge. "is it safe, william?" says he. "as sunday-school," says bill, "if you do a strictly brokerage business and don't speculate." "i trust, william, that you recognize the responsibilities of your stewardship?" [illustration: "_i started in to curl up that young fellow to a crisp._"] bill fetched a groan. "zeke," says he, "you cornered me there, and i 'spose i might as well walk up to the captain's office and settle. i hadn't bought or sold a bushel on my own account in a year till last week, when i got your letter saying that you were coming. then i saw what looked like a safe chance to scalp the market for a couple of cents a bushel, and i bought , september, intending to turn over the profits to you as a little present, so that you could see the town and have a good time without it's costing you anything." the deacon judged from bill's expression that he had got nipped and was going to try to unload the loss on him, so he changed his face to the one which he used when attending the funeral of any one who hadn't been a professor, and came back quick and hard: "i'm surprised, william, that you should think i would accept money made in gambling. let this be a lesson to you. how much did you lose?" "that's the worst of it--i didn't lose; i made two hundred dollars," and bill hove another sigh. "made two hundred dollars!" echoed the deacon, and he changed his face again for the one which he used when he found a lead quarter in his till and couldn't remember who had passed it on him. "yes," bill went on, "and i'm ashamed of it, for you've made me see things in a new light. of course, after what you've said, i know it would be an insult to offer you the money. and i feel now that it wouldn't be right to keep it myself. i must sleep on it and try to find the straight thing to do." i guess it really didn't interfere with bill's sleep, but the deacon sat up with the corpse of that two hundred dollars, you bet. in the morning at breakfast he asked brother bill to explain all about this speculating business, what made the market go up and down, and whether real corn or wheat or pork figured in any stage of a deal. bill looked sort of sad and dreamy-eyed, as if his conscience hadn't digested that two hundred yet, but he was mighty obliging about explaining everything to zeke. he had changed his face for the one which he wore when he sold an easy customer ground peas and chicory for o. g. java, and every now and then he gulped as if he was going to start a hymn. when bill told him how good and bad weather sent the market up and down, he nodded and said that that part of it was all right, because the weather was of the lord. "not on the board of trade it isn't," bill answered back; "at least, not to any marked extent; it's from the weather man or some liar in the corn belt, and, as the weather man usually guesses wrong, i reckon there isn't any special inspiration about it. the game is to guess what's going to happen, not what has happened, and by the time the real weather comes along everybody has guessed wrong and knocked the market off a cent or two." that made the deacon's chin whiskers droop a little, but he began to ask questions again, and by and by he discovered that away behind--about a hundred miles behind, but that was close enough for the deacon--a deal in futures there were real wheat and pork. said then that he'd been misinformed and misled; that speculation was a legitimate business, involving skill and sagacity; that his last scruple was removed, and that he would accept the two hundred. bill brightened right up at that and thanked him for putting it so clear and removing the doubts that had been worrying him. said that he could speculate with a clear conscience after listening to the deacon's able exposition of the subject. was only sorry he hadn't seen him to talk it over before breakfast, as the two hundred had been lying so heavy on his mind all night that he'd got up early and mailed a check for it to the deacon's pastor and told him to spend it on his poor. zeke took the evening train home in order to pry that check out of the elder, but old doc. hoover was a pretty quick stepper himself and he'd blown the whole two hundred as soon as he got it, buying winter coal for poor people. i simply mention the deacon in passing as an example of the fact that it's easy for a man who thinks he's all right to go all wrong when he sees a couple of hundred dollars lying around loose a little to one side of the straight and narrow path; and that when he reaches down to pick up the money there's usually a string tied to it and a small boy in the bushes to give it a yank. easy-come money never draws interest; easy-borrowed dollars pay usury. of course, the board of trade and every other commercial exchange have their legitimate uses, but all you need to know just now is that speculation by a fellow who never owns more pork at a time than he sees on his breakfast plate isn't one of them. when you become a packer you may go on 'change as a trader; until then you can go there only as a sucker. your affectionate father, john graham. +-----------------------------+ | no. | +-----------------------------+ | from john graham, at | | the union stock yards | | in chicago, to his son, | | pierrepont, at the scrub | | oaks, spring lake, | | michigan. mr. pierrepont | | has been promoted again, | | and the old man sends him | | a little advice with his | | appointment. | +-----------------------------+ xv chicago, september , - _dear pierrepont:_ i judge from yours of the twenty-ninth that you must have the black bass in those parts pretty well terrorized. i never could quite figure it out, but there seems to be something about a fish that makes even a cold-water deacon see double. i reckon it must be that while eve was learning the first principles of dressmaking from the snake, adam was off bass fishing and keeping his end up by learning how to lie. don't overstock yourself with those four-pound fish yarns, though, because the boys have been bringing them back from their vacations till we've got enough to last us for a year of fridays. and if you're sending them to keep in practice, you might as well quit, because we've decided to take you off the road when you come back, and make you assistant manager of the lard department. the salary will be fifty dollars a week, and the duties of the position to do your work so well that the manager can't run the department without you, and that you can run the department without the manager. to do this you will have to know lard; to know yourself; and to know those under you. to some fellows lard is just hog fat, and not always that, if they would rather make a dollar to-day than five to-morrow. but it was a good deal more to jack summers, who held your new job until we had to promote him to canned goods. jack knew lard from the hog to the frying pan; was up on lard in history and religion; originated what he called the "ham and" theory, proving that moses' injunction against pork must have been dissolved by the circuit court, because noah included a couple of shoats in his cargo, and called one of his sons ham, out of gratitude, probably, after tasting a slice broiled for the first time; argued that all the great nations lived on fried food, and that america was the greatest of them all, owing to the energy-producing qualities of pie, liberally shortened with lard. it almost broke jack's heart when we decided to manufacture our new cottonseed oil product, seedoiline. but on reflection he saw that it just gave him an extra hold on the heathen that he couldn't convert to lard, and he started right out for the hebrew and vegetarian vote. jack had enthusiasm, and enthusiasm is the best shortening for any job; it makes heavy work light. a good many young fellows envy their boss because they think he makes the rules and can do as he pleases. as a matter of fact, he's the only man in the shop who can't. he's like the fellow on the tight-rope--there's plenty of scenery under him and lots of room around him, but he's got to keep his feet on the wire all the time and travel straight ahead. a clerk has just one boss to answer to--the manager. but the manager has just as many bosses as he has clerks under him. he can make rules, but he's the only man who can't afford to break them now and then. a fellow is a boss simply because he's a better man than those under him, and there's a heap of responsibility in being better than the next fellow. no man can ask more than he gives. a fellow who can't take orders can't give them. if his rules are too hard for him to mind, you can bet they are too hard for the clerks who don't get half so much for minding them as he does. there's no alarm clock for the sleepy man like an early rising manager; and there's nothing breeds work in an office like a busy boss. of course, setting a good example is just a small part of a manager's duties. it's not enough to settle yourself firm on the box seat--you must have every man under you hitched up right and well in hand. you can't work individuals by general rules. every man is a special case and needs a special pill. when you fix up a snug little nest for a plymouth rock hen and encourage her with a nice porcelain egg, it doesn't always follow that she has reached the fricassee age because she doesn't lay right off. sometimes she will respond to a little red pepper in her food. i don't mean by this that you ever want to drive your men, because the lash always leaves its worst soreness under the skin. a hundred men will forgive a blow in the face where one will a blow to his self-esteem. tell a man the truth about himself and shame the devil if you want to, but you won't shame the man you're trying to reach, because he won't believe you. but if you can start him on the road that will lead him to the truth he's mighty apt to try to reform himself before any one else finds him out. consider carefully before you say a hard word to a man, but never let a chance to say a good one go by. praise judiciously bestowed is money invested. never learn anything about your men except from themselves. a good manager needs no detectives, and the fellow who can't read human nature can't manage it. the phonograph records of a fellow's character are lined in his face, and a man's days tell the secrets of his nights. be slow to hire and quick to fire. the time to discover incompatibility of temper and curl-papers is before the marriage ceremony. but when you find that you've hired the wrong man, you can't get rid of him too quick. pay him an extra month, but don't let him stay another day. a discharged clerk in the office is like a splinter in the thumb--a centre of soreness. there are no exceptions to this rule, because there are no exceptions to human nature. never threaten, because a threat is a promise to pay that it isn't always convenient to meet, but if you don't make it good it hurts your credit. save a threat till you're ready to act, and then you won't need it. in all your dealings, remember that to-day is your opportunity; to-morrow some other fellow's. keep close to your men. when a fellow's sitting on top of a mountain he's in a mighty dignified and exalted position, but if he's gazing at the clouds, he's missing a heap of interesting and important doings down in the valley. never lose your dignity, of course, but tie it up in all the red tape you can find around the office, and tuck it away in the safe. it's easy for a boss to awe his clerks, but a man who is feared to his face is hated behind his back. a competent boss can move among his men without having to draw an imaginary line between them, because they will see the real one if it exists. besides keeping in touch with your office men, you want to feel your salesmen all the time. send each of them a letter every day so that they won't forget that we are making goods for which we need orders; and insist on their sending you a line every day, whether they have anything to say or not. when a fellow has to write in six times a week to the house, he uses up his explanations mighty fast, and he's pretty apt to hustle for business to make his seventh letter interesting. right here i want to repeat that in keeping track of others and their faults it's very, very important that you shouldn't lose sight of your own. authority swells up some fellows so that they can't see their corns; but a wise man tries to cure his own while remembering not to tread on his neighbors'. [illustration: "_a good many salesmen have an idea that buyers are only interested in funny stories._"] in this connection, the story of lemuel hostitter, who kept the corner grocery in my old town, naturally comes to mind. lem was probably the meanest white man in the state of missouri, and it wasn't any walk-over to hold the belt in those days. most grocers were satisfied to adulterate their coffee with ground peas, but lem was so blamed mean that he adulterated the peas first. bought skin-bruised hams and claimed that the bruise was his private and particular brand, stamped in the skin, showing that they were a fancy article, packed expressly for his fancy family trade. ran a soda-water fountain in the front of his store with home-made syrups that ate the lining out of the children's stomachs, and a blind tiger in the back room with moonshine whiskey that pickled their daddies' insides. take it by and large, lem's character smelled about as various as his store, and that wasn't perfumed with lily-of-the-valley, you bet. one time and another most men dropped into lem's store of an evening, because there wasn't any other place to go and swap lies about the crops and any of the neighbors who didn't happen to be there. as lem was always around, in the end he was the only man in town whose meanness hadn't been talked over in that grocery. naturally, he began to think that he was the only decent white man in the county. got to shaking his head and reckoning that the town was plum rotten. said that such goings on would make a pessimist of a goat. wanted to know if public opinion couldn't be aroused so that decency would have a show in the village. most men get information when they ask for it, and in the end lem fetched public opinion all right. one night the local chapter of the w.c.t.u. borrowed all the loose hatchets in town and made a good, clean, workmanlike job of the back part of his store, though his whiskey was so mean that even the ground couldn't soak it up. the noise brought out the men, and they sort of caught the spirit of the happy occasion. when they were through, lem's stock and fixtures looked mighty sick, and they had lem on a rail headed for the county line. i don't know when i've seen a more surprised man than lem. he couldn't cuss even. but as he never came back, to ask for any explanation, i reckon he figured it out that they wanted to get rid of him because he was too good for the town. i simply mention lem in passing as an example of the fact that when you're through sizing up the other fellow, it's a good thing to step back from yourself and see how you look. then add fifty per cent. to your estimate of your neighbor for virtues that you can't see, and deduct fifty per cent. from yourself for faults that you've missed in your inventory, and you'll have a pretty accurate result. your affectionate father, john graham. +-----------------------------+ | no. | +-----------------------------+ | from john graham, at the | | schweitzerkasenhof, | | karlsbad, austria, to his | | son, pierrepont, at the | | union stock yards, | | chicago. mr. pierrepont | | has shown mild symptoms | | of an attack of society | | fever, and his father is | | administering some simple | | remedies. | +-----------------------------+ xvi karlsbad, october , - _dear pierrepont:_ if you happen to run across doc titherington you'd better tell him to go into training, because i expect to be strong enough to lick him by the time i get back. between that ten-day boat which he recommended and these dutch doctors, i'm almost well and about broke. you don't really have to take the baths here to get rid of your rheumatism--their bills scare it out of a fellow. they tell me we had a pretty quiet trip across, and i'm not saying that we didn't, because for the first three days i was so busy holding myself in my berth that i couldn't get a chance to look out the porthole to see for myself. i reckon there isn't anything alive that can beat me at being seasick, unless it's a camel, and he's got three stomachs. when i did get around i was a good deal of a maverick--for all the old fellows were playing poker in the smoking-room and all the young ones were lallygagging under the boats--until i found that we were carrying a couple of hundred steers between decks. they looked mighty homesick, you bet, and i reckon they sort of sized me up as being a long ways from chicago, for we cottoned to each other right from the start. take 'em as they ran, they were a mighty likely bunch of steers, and i got a heap of solid comfort out of them. there must have been good money in them, too, for they reached england in prime condition. i wish you would tell our people at the beef house to look into this export cattle business, and have all the facts and figures ready for me when i get back. there seems to be a good margin in it, and with our english house we are fixed up to handle it all right at this end. it makes me mighty sick to think that we've been sitting back on our hindlegs and letting the other fellow run away with this trade. we are packers, i know, but that's no reason why we can't be shippers, too. i want to milk the critter coming and going, twice a day, and milk her dry. unless you do the whole thing you can't do anything in business as it runs to-day. there's still plenty of room at the top, but there isn't much anywheres else. there may be reasons why we haven't been able to tackle this exporting of live cattle, but you can tell our people there that they have got to be mighty good reasons to wipe out the profit i see in it. of course, i may have missed them, for i've only looked into the business a little by way of recreation, but it won't do to say that it's not in our line, because anything which carries a profit on four legs is in our line. i dwell a little on the matter because, while this special case is out of your department, the general principle is in it. the way to think of a thing in business is to think of it first, and the way to get a share of the trade is to go for all of it. half the battle's in being on the hilltop first; and the other half's in staying there. in speaking of these matters, and in writing you about your new job, i've run a little ahead of your present position, because i'm counting on you to catch up with me. but you want to get it clearly in mind that i'm writing to you not as the head of the house, but as the head of the family, and that i don't propose to mix the two things. even as assistant manager of the lard department, you don't occupy a very important position with us yet. but the great trouble with some fellows is that a little success goes to their heads. instead of hiding their authority behind their backs and trying to get close to their men, they use it as a club to keep them off. and a boss with a case of big-head will fill an office full of sore heads. i don't know any one who has better opportunities for making himself unpopular than an assistant, for the clerks are apt to cuss him for all the manager's meanness, and the manager is likely to find fault with him for all the clerks' cussedness. but if he explains his orders to the clerks he loses his authority, and if he excuses himself to the manager he loses his usefulness. a manager needs an assistant to take trouble from him, not to bring it to him. the one important thing for you to remember all the time is not to forget. it's easier for a boss to do a thing himself than to tell some one twice to do it. petty details take up just as much room in a manager's head as big ideas; and the more of the first you store for him, the more warehouse room you leave him for the second. when a boss has to spend his days swearing at his assistant and the clerks have to sit up nights hating him, they haven't much time left to swear by the house. satisfaction is the oil of the business machine. some fellows can only see those above them, and others can only see those under them, but a good man is cross-eyed and can see both ends at once. an assistant who becomes his manager's right hand is going to find the left hand helping him; and it's not hard for a clerk to find good points in a boss who finds good ones in him. pulling from above and boosting from below make climbing easy. in handling men, your own feelings are the only ones that are of no importance. i don't mean by this that you want to sacrifice your self-respect, but you must keep in mind that the bigger the position the broader the man must be to fill it. and a diet of courtesy and consideration gives girth to a boss. of course, all this is going to take so much time and thought that you won't have a very wide margin left for golf--especially in the afternoons. i simply mention this in passing, because i see in the chicago papers which have been sent me that you were among the players on the links one afternoon a fortnight ago. golf's a nice, foolish game, and there ain't any harm in it so far as i know except for the balls--the stiff balls at the beginning, the lost balls in the middle, and the highballs at the end of the game. but a young fellow who wants to be a boss butcher hasn't much daylight to waste on any kind of links except sausage links. of course, a man should have a certain amount of play, just as a boy is entitled to a piece of pie at the end of his dinner, but he don't want to make a meal of it. any one who lets sinkers take the place of bread and meat gets bilious pretty young; and these fellows who haven't any job, except to blow the old man's dollars, are a good deal like the little niggers in the pie-eating contest at the county fair--they've a-plenty of pastry and they're attracting a heap of attention, but they've got a stomach-ache coming to them by and by. i want to caution you right here against getting the society bug in your head. i'd sooner you'd smoke these turkish cigarettes which smell like a fire in the fertilizer factory. you're going to meet a good many stray fools in the course of business every day without going out to hunt up the main herd after dark. everybody over here in europe thinks that we haven't any society in america, and a power of people in new york think that we haven't any society in chicago. but so far as i can see there are just as many ninety-nine-cent men spending million-dollar incomes in one place as another; and the rules that govern the game seem to be the same in all three places--you've got to be a descendant to belong, and the farther you descend the harder you belong. the only difference is that, in europe, the ancestor who made money enough so that his family could descend, has been dead so long that they have forgotten his shop; in new york he's so recent that they can only pretend to have forgotten it; but in chicago they can't lose it because the ancestor is hustling on the board of trade or out at the stock yards. i want to say right here that i don't propose to be an ancestor until after i'm dead. then, if you want to have some fellow whose grandfather sold bad whiskey to the indians sniff and smell pork when you come into the room, you can suit yourself. of course, i may be off in sizing this thing up, because it's a little out of my line. but it's been my experience that these people who think that they are all the choice cuts off the critter, and that the rest of us are only fit for sausage, are usually chuck steak when you get them under the knife. i've tried two or three of them, who had gone broke, in the office, but when you separate them from their money there's nothing left, not even their friends. i never see a fellow trying to crawl or to buy his way into society that i don't think of my old friend hank smith and his wife kate--kate botts she was before he married her--and how they tried to butt their way through the upper crust. hank and i were boys together in missouri, and he stayed along in the old town after i left. i heard of him on and off as tending store a little, and farming a little, and loafing a good deal. then i forgot all about him, until one day a few years ago when he turned up in the papers as captain henry smith, the klondike gold king, just back from circle city, with a million in dust and anything you please in claims. there's never any limit to what a miner may be worth in those, except his imagination. i was a little puzzled when, a week later, my office boy brought me a card reading colonel henry augustus bottes-smythe, but i supposed it was some distinguished foreigner who had come to size me up so that he could round out his roast on chicago in his new book, and i told the boy to show the general in. i've got a pretty good memory for faces, and i'd bought too much store plug of hank in my time not to know him, even with a clean shave and a plug hat. some men dry up with success, but it was just spouting out of hank. told me he'd made his pile and that he was tired of living on the slag heap; that he'd spent his whole life where money hardly whispered, let alone talked, and he was going now where it would shout. wanted to know what was the use of being a nob if a fellow wasn't the nobbiest sort of a nob. said he'd bought a house on beacon hill, in boston, and that if i'd prick up my ears occasionally i'd hear something drop into the back bay. handed me his new card four times and explained that it was the rawest sort of dog to carry a brace of names in your card holster; that it gave you the drop on the swells every time, and that they just had to throw up both hands and pass you the pot when you showed down. said that bottes was old english for botts, and that smythe was new american for smith; the augustus was just a fancy touch, a sort of high-card kicker. i didn't explain to hank, because it was congratulations and not explanations that he wanted, and i make it a point to show a customer the line of goods that he's looking for. and i never heard the full particulars of his experiences in the east, though, from what i learned afterward, hank struck boston with a bang, all right. he located his claim on beacon hill, between a mayflower descendant and a declaration signer's great-grandson, breeds which believe that when the lord made them he was through, and that the rest of us just happened. and he hadn't been in town two hours before he started in to make improvements. there was a high wrought-iron railing in front of his house, and he had that gilded first thing, because, as he said, he wasn't running a receiving vault and he didn't want any mistakes. then he bought a nice, open barouche, had the wheels painted red, hired a nigger coachman and started out in style to be sociable and get acquainted. left his card all the way down one side of beacon street, and then drove back leaving it on the other. everywhere he stopped he found that the whole family was out. kept it up a week, on and off, but didn't seem to have any luck. thought that the men must be hot sports and the women great gadders to keep on the jump so much. allowed that they were the liveliest little lot of fleas that he had ever chased. decided to quit trying to nail 'em one at a time, and planned out something that he reckoned would round up the whole bunch. hank sent out a thousand invitations to his grand opening, as he called it; left one at every house within a mile. had a brass band on the front steps and fireworks on the roof. ordered forty kegs from the brewery and hired a fancy mixer to sling together mild snorts, as he called them, for the ladies. they tell me that, when the band got to going good on the steps and the fireworks on the roof, even beacon street looked out the windows to see what was doing. there must have been ten thousand people in the street and not a soul but hank and his wife and the mixer in the house. some one yelled speech, and then the whole crowd took it up, till hank came out on the steps. he shut off the band with one hand and stopped the fireworks with the other. said that speechmaking wasn't his strangle-hold; that he'd been living on snowballs in the klondike for so long that his gas-pipe was frozen; but that this welcome started the ice and he thought about three fingers of the plumber's favorite prescription would cut out the frost. would the crowd join him? he had invited a few friends in for the evening, but there seemed to be some misunderstanding about the date, and he hated to have good stuff curdle on his hands. while this was going on, the mayflower descendant was telephoning for the police from one side and the signer's great-grandson from the other, and just as the crowd yelled and broke for the house two patrol wagons full of policemen got there. but they had to turn in a riot call and bring out the reserves before they could break up hank's little boston tea-party. after all, hank did what he started out to do with his party--rounded up all his neighbors in a bunch, though not exactly according to schedule. for next morning there were so many descendants and great-grandsons in the police court to prefer charges that it looked like a reunion of the pilgrim fathers. the judge fined hank on sixteen counts and bound him over to keep the peace for a hundred years. that afternoon he left for the west on a special, because the limited didn't get there quick enough. but before going he tacked on the front door of his house a sign which read: "neighbors paying their party calls will please not heave rocks through windows to attract attention. not in and not going to be. gone back to circle city for a little quiet. "yours truly, "hank smith. "n.b.--too swift for your uncle." hank dropped by my office for a minute on his way to 'frisco. said he liked things lively, but there was altogether too much rough-house on beacon hill for him. judged that as the crowd which wasn't invited was so blamed sociable, the one which was invited would have stayed a week if it hadn't slipped up on the date. that might be the boston idea, but he wanted a little more refinement in his. said he was a pretty free spender, and would hold his end up, but he hated a hog. of course i told hank that boston wasn't all that it was cracked up to be in the school histories, and that circle city wasn't so tough as it read in the newspapers, for there was no way of making him understand that he might have lived in boston for a hundred years without being invited to a strawberry sociable. because a fellow cuts ice on the arctic circle, it doesn't follow that he's going to be worth beans on the back bay. i simply mention hank in a general way. his case may be a little different, but it isn't any more extreme than lots of others all around you over there and me over here. of course, i want you to enjoy good society, but any society is good society where congenial men and women meet together for wholesome amusement. but i want you to keep away from people who choose play for a profession. a man's as good as he makes himself, but no man's any good because his grandfather was. your affectionate father, john graham. +----------------------------+ | no. | +----------------------------+ | from john graham, at the | | london house of graham & | | co., to his son, | | pierrepont, at the union | | stock yards in chicago. | | mr. pierrepont has | | written his father that | | he is getting along | | famously in his new | | place. | +----------------------------+ xvii london, october , - _dear pierrepont:_ well, i'm headed for home at last, checked high and as full of prance as a spotted circus horse. those dutchmen ain't so bad as their language, after all, for they've fixed up my rheumatism so that i can bear down on my right leg without thinking that it's going to break off. i'm glad to learn from your letter that you're getting along so well in your new place, and i hope that when i get home your boss will back up all the good things which you say about yourself. for the future, however, you needn't bother to keep me posted along this line. it's the one subject on which most men are perfectly frank, and it's about the only one on which it isn't necessary to be. there's never any use trying to hide the fact that you're a jim-dandy--you're bound to be found out. of course, you want to have your eyes open all the time for a good man, but follow the old maid's example--look under the bed and in the closet, not in the mirror, for him. a man who does big things is too busy to talk about them. when the jaws really need exercise, chew gum. some men go through life on the sarsaparilla theory--that they've got to give a hundred doses of talk about themselves for every dollar which they take in; and that's a pretty good theory when you're getting a dollar for ten cents' worth of ingredients. but a man who's giving a dollar's worth of himself for ninety-nine cents doesn't need to throw in any explanations. of course, you're going to meet fellows right along who pass as good men for a while, because they say they're good men; just as a lot of fives are in circulation which are accepted at their face value until they work up to the receiving teller. and you're going to see these men taking buzzards and coining eagles from them that will fool people so long as they can keep them in the air; but sooner or later they're bound to swoop back to their dead horse, and you'll get the buzzard smell. hot air can take up a balloon a long ways, but it can't keep it there. and when a fellow's turning flip-flops up among the clouds, he's naturally going to have the farmers gaping at him. but in the end there always comes a time when the parachute fails to work. i don't know anything that's quite so dead as a man who's fallen three or four thousand feet off the edge of a cloud. the only way to gratify a taste for scenery is to climb a mountain. you don't get up so quick, but you don't come down so sudden. even then, there's a chance that a fellow may slip and fall over a precipice, but not unless he's foolish enough to try short-cuts over slippery places; though some men can manage to fall down the hall stairs and break their necks. the path isn't the shortest way to the top, but it's usually the safest way. life isn't a spurt, but a long, steady climb. you can't run far up-hill without stopping to sit down. some men do a day's work and then spend six lolling around admiring it. they rush at a thing with a whoop and use up all their wind in that. and when they're rested and have got it back, they whoop again and start off in a new direction. they mistake intention for determination, and after they have told you what they propose to do and get right up to doing it, they simply peter out. i've heard a good deal in my time about the foolishness of hens, but when it comes to right-down, plum foolishness, give me a rooster, every time. he's always strutting and stretching and crowing and bragging about things with which he had nothing to do. when the sun rises, you'd think that he was making all the light, instead of all the noise; when the farmer's wife throws the scraps in the henyard, he crows as if he was the provider for the whole farmyard and was asking a blessing on the food; when he meets another rooster, he crows; and when the other rooster licks him, he crows; and so he keeps it up straight through the day. he even wakes up during the night and crows a little on general principles. but when you hear from a hen, she's laid an egg, and she don't make a great deal of noise about it, either. i speak of these things in a general way, because i want you to keep in mind all the time that steady, quiet, persistent, plain work can't be imitated or replaced by anything just as good, and because your request for a job for courtland warrington naturally brings them up. you write that court says that a man who has occupied his position in the world naturally can't cheapen himself by stepping down into any little piddling job where he'd have to do undignified things. i want to start right out by saying that i know court and his whole breed like a glue factory, and that we can't use him in our business. he's one of those fellows who start in at the top and naturally work down to the bottom, because that is where they belong. his father gave him an interest in the concern when he left college, and since the old man failed three years ago and took a salary himself, court's been sponging on him and waiting for a nice, dignified job to come along and steal him. but we are not in the kidnapping business. the only undignified job i know of is loafing, and nothing can cheapen a man who sponges instead of hunting any sort of work, because he's as cheap already as they can be made. i never could quite understand these fellows who keep down every decent instinct in order to keep up appearance, and who will stoop to any sort of real meanness to boost up their false pride. [illustration: "_jim hicks dared fatty wilkins to eat a piece of dirt._"] they always remind me of little fatty wilkins, who came to live in our town back in missouri when i was a boy. his mother thought a heap of fatty, and fatty thought a heap of himself, or his stomach, which was the same thing. looked like he'd been taken from a joke book. used to be a great eater. stuffed himself till his hide was stretched as tight as a sausage skin, and then howled for painkiller. spent all his pennies for cakes, because candy wasn't filling enough. hogged 'em in the shop, for fear he would have to give some one a bite if he ate them on the street. the other boys didn't take to fatty, and they didn't make any special secret of it when he was around. he was a mighty brave boy and a mighty strong boy and a mighty proud boy--with his mouth; but he always managed to slip out of anything that looked like a fight by having a sore hand or a case of the mumps. the truth of the matter was that he was afraid of everything except food, and that was the thing which was hurting him most. it's mighty seldom that a fellow's afraid of what he ought to be afraid of in this world. of course, like most cowards, while fatty always had an excuse for not doing something that might hurt his skin, he would take a dare to do anything that would hurt his self-respect, for fear the boys would laugh at him, or say that he was afraid, if he refused. so one day during recess jim hicks dared him to eat a piece of dirt. fatty hesitated a little, because, while he was pretty promiscuous about what he put into his stomach, he had never included dirt in his bill-of-fare. but when the boys began to say that he was afraid, fatty up and swallowed it. and when he dared the other boys to do the same thing and none of them would take the dare, it made him mighty proud and puffed up. got to charging the bigger boys and the lounger around the post-office a cent to see him eat a piece of dirt the size of a hickory-nut. found there was good money in that, and added grasshoppers, at two cents apiece, as a side line. found them so popular that he took on chinch bugs at a nickel, and fairly coined money. the last i heard of fatty he was in a dime museum, drawing two salaries--one as "the fat man," and the other as "launcelot, the locust eater, the only man alive with a gizzard." you are going to meet a heap of fatties, first and last, fellows who'll eat a little dirt "for fun" or to show off, and who'll eat a little more because they find that there's some easy money or times in it. it's hard to get at these men, because when they've lost everything they had to be proud of, they still keep their pride. you can always bet that when a fellow's pride makes him touchy, it's because there are some mighty raw spots on it. it's been my experience that pride is usually a spur to the strong and a drag on the weak. it drives the strong man along and holds the weak one back. it makes the fellow with the stiff upper lip and the square jaw smile at a laugh and laugh at a sneer; it keeps his conscience straight and his back humped over his work; it makes him appreciate the little things and fight for the big ones. but it makes the fellow with the retreating forehead do the thing that looks right, instead of the thing that is right; it makes him fear a laugh and shrivel up at a sneer; it makes him live to-day on to-morrow's salary; it makes him a cheap imitation of some willie who has a little more money than he has, without giving him zip enough to go out and force luck for himself. i never see one of these fellows swelling around with their petty larceny pride that i don't think of a little experience of mine when i was a boy. an old fellow caught me lifting a watermelon in his patch, one afternoon, and instead of cuffing me and letting me go, as i had expected if i got caught, he led me home by the ear to my ma, and told her what i had been up to. your grandma had been raised on the old-fashioned plan, and she had never heard of these new-fangled theories of reasoning gently with a child till its under lip begins to stick out and its eyes to fill with tears as it sees the error of its ways. she fetched the tears all right, but she did it with a trunk strap or a slipper. and your grandma was a pretty substantial woman. nothing of the tootsey-wootsey about her foot, and nothing of the airy-fairy trifle about her slipper. when she was through i knew that i'd been licked--polished right off to a point--and then she sent me to my room and told me not to poke my nose out of it till i could recite the ten commandments and the sunday-school lesson by heart. there was a whole chapter of it, and an old testament chapter at that, but i laid right into it because i knew ma, and supper was only two hours off. i can repeat that chapter still, forward and backward, without missing a word or stopping to catch my breath. every now and then old doc hoover used to come into the sunday-school room and scare the scholars into fits by going around from class to class and asking questions. that next sunday, for the first time, i was glad to see him happen in, and i didn't try to escape attention when he worked around to our class. for ten minutes i'd been busting for him to ask me to recite a verse of the lesson, and, when he did, i simply cut loose and recited the whole chapter and threw in the ten commandments for good measure. it sort of dazed the doc, because he had come to me for information about the old testament before, and we'd never got much beyond, and ahab begat jahab, or words to that effect. but when he got over the shock he made me stand right up before the whole school and do it again. patted me on the head and said i was "an honor to my parents and an example to my playmates." i had been looking down all the time, feeling mighty proud and scared, but at that i couldn't help glancing up to see the other boys admire me. but the first person my eye lit on was your grandma, standing in the back of the room, where she had stopped for a moment on her way up to church, and glaring at me in a mighty unpleasant way. "tell 'em, john," she said right out loud, before everybody. there was no way to run, for the elder had hold of my hand, and there was no place to hide, though i reckon i could have crawled into a rat hole. so, to gain time, i blurted out: "tell 'em what, mam?" "tell 'em how you come to have your lesson so nice." i learned to hate notoriety right then and there, but i knew there was no switching her off on to the weather when she wanted to talk religion. so i shut my eyes and let it come, though it caught on my palate once or twice on the way out. "hooked a watermelon, mam." there wasn't any need for further particulars with that crowd, and they simply howled. ma led me up to our pew, allowing that she'd tend to me monday for disgracing her in public that way--and she did. that was a twelve-grain dose, without any sugar coat, but it sweat more cant and false pride out of my system than i could get back into it for the next twenty years. i learned right there how to be humble, which is a heap more important than knowing how to be proud. there are mighty few men that need any lessons in that. your affectionate father, john graham. +-----------------------------+ | no. | +-----------------------------+ | from john graham, at the | | london house of graham & | | co., to his son, | | pierrepont, at the union | | stock yards in chicago. | | mr. pierrepont is worried | | over rumors that the old | | man is a bear on lard, | | and that the longs are | | about to make him climb a | | tree. | +-----------------------------+ xviii london, october , - _dear pierrepont:_ yours of the twenty-first inst. to hand and i note the inclosed clippings. you needn't pay any special attention to this newspaper talk about the comstock crowd having caught me short a big line of november lard. i never sell goods without knowing where i can find them when i want them, and if these fellows try to put their forefeet in the trough, or start any shoving and crowding, they're going to find me forgetting my table manners, too. for when it comes to funny business i'm something of a humorist myself. and while i'm too old to run, i'm young enough to stand and fight. first and last, a good many men have gone gunning for me, but they've always planned the obsequies before they caught the deceased. i reckon there hasn't been a time in twenty years when there wasn't a nice "gates ajar" piece all made up and ready for me in some office near the board of trade. but the first essential of a quiet funeral is a willing corpse. and i'm still sitting up and taking nourishment. there are two things you never want to pay any attention to--abuse and flattery. the first can't harm you and the second can't help you. some men are like yellow dogs--when you're coming toward them they'll jump up and try to lick your hands; and when you're walking away from them they'll sneak up behind and snap at your heels. last year, when i was bulling the market, the longs all said that i was a kind-hearted old philanthropist, who was laying awake nights scheming to get the farmers a top price for their hogs; and the shorts allowed that i was an infamous old robber, who was stealing the pork out of the workingman's pot. as long as you can't please both sides in this world, there's nothing like pleasing your own side. there are mighty few people who can see any side to a thing except their own side. i remember once i had a vacant lot out on the avenue, and a lady came in to my office and in a soothing-syrupy way asked if i would lend it to her, as she wanted to build a _crèche_ on it. i hesitated a little, because i had never heard of a _crèche_ before, and someways it sounded sort of foreign and frisky, though the woman looked like a good, safe, reliable old heifer. but she explained that a _crèche_ was a baby farm, where old maids went to wash and feed and stick pins in other people's children while their mothers were off at work. of course, there was nothing in that to get our pastor or the police after me, so i told her to go ahead. she went off happy, but about a week later she dropped in again, looking sort of dissatisfied, to find out if i wouldn't build the _crèche_ itself. it seemed like a worthy object, so i sent some carpenters over to knock together a long frame pavilion. she was mighty grateful, you bet, and i didn't see her again for a fortnight. then she called by to say that so long as i was in the business and they didn't cost me anything special, would i mind giving her a few cows. she had a surprised and grieved expression on her face as she talked, and the way she put it made me feel that i ought to be ashamed of myself for not having thought of the live stock myself. so i threw in half a dozen cows to provide the refreshments. i thought that was pretty good measure, but the carpenters hadn't more than finished with the pavilion before the woman telephoned a sharp message to ask why i hadn't had it painted. i was too busy that morning to quarrel, so i sent word that i would fix it up; and when i was driving by there next day the painters were hard at work on it. there was a sixty-foot frontage of that shed on the avenue, and i saw right off that it was just a natural signboard. so i called over the boss painter and between us we cooked up a nice little ad that ran something like this: graham's extract: it makes the weak strong. well, sir, when she saw the ad next morning that old hen just scratched gravel. went all around town saying that i had given a five-hundred-dollar shed to charity and painted a thousand-dollar ad on it. allowed i ought to send my check for that amount to the _crèche_ fund. kept at it till i began to think there might be something in it, after all, and sent her the money. then i found a fellow who wanted to build in that neighborhood, sold him the lot cheap, and got out of the _crèche_ industry. i've put a good deal more than work into my business, and i've drawn a good deal more than money out of it; but the only thing i've ever put into it which didn't draw dividends in fun or dollars was worry. that is a branch of the trade which you want to leave to our competitors. i've always found worrying a blamed sight more uncertain than horse-racing--it's harder to pick a winner at it. you go home worrying because you're afraid that your fool new clerk forgot to lock the safe after you, and during the night the lard refinery burns down; you spend a year fretting because you think bill jones is going to cut you out with your best girl, and then you spend ten worrying because he didn't; you worry over charlie at college because he's a little wild, and he writes you that he's been elected president of the y.m.c.a.; and you worry over william because he's so pious that you're afraid he's going to throw up everything and go to china as a missionary, and he draws on you for a hundred; you worry because you're afraid your business is going to smash, and your health busts up instead. worrying is the one game in which, if you guess right, you don't get any satisfaction out of your smartness. a busy man has no time to bother with it. he can always find plenty of old women in skirts or trousers to spend their days worrying over their own troubles and to sit up nights waking his. speaking of handing over your worries to others naturally calls to mind the widow williams and her son bud, who was a playmate of mine when i was a boy. bud was the youngest of the widow's troubles, and she was a woman whose troubles seldom came singly. had fourteen altogether, and four pair of 'em were twins. used to turn 'em loose in the morning, when she let out her cows and pigs to browse along the street, and then she'd shed all worry over them for the rest of the day. allowed that if they got hurt the neighbors would bring them home; and that if they got hungry they'd come home. and someways, the whole drove always showed up safe and dirty about meal time. i've no doubt she thought a lot of bud, but when a woman has fourteen it sort of unsettles her mind so that she can't focus her affections or play any favorites. and so when bud's clothes were found at the swimming hole one day, and no bud inside them, she didn't take on up to the expectations of the neighbors who had brought the news, and who were standing around waiting for her to go off into something special in the way of high-strikes. she allowed that they were bud's clothes, all right, but she wanted to know where the remains were. hinted that there'd be no funeral, or such like expensive goings-on, until some one produced the deceased. take her by and large, she was a pretty cool, calm cucumber. but if she showed a little too much christian resignation, the rest of the town was mightily stirred up over bud's death, and every one just quit work to tell each other what a noble little fellow he was; and how his mother hadn't deserved to have such a bright little sunbeam in her home; and to drag the river between talks. but they couldn't get a rise. through all the worry and excitement the widow was the only one who didn't show any special interest, except to ask for results. but finally, at the end of a week, when they'd strained the whole river through their drags and hadn't anything to show for it but a collection of tin cans and dead catfish, she threw a shawl over her head and went down the street to the cabin of louisiana clytemnestra, an old yellow woman, who would go into a trance for four bits and find a fortune for you for a dollar. i reckon she'd have called herself a clairvoyant nowadays, but then she was just a voodoo woman. well, the widow said she reckoned that boys ought to be let out as well as in for half price, and so she laid down two bits, allowing that she wanted a few minutes' private conversation with her bud. clytie said she'd do her best, but that spirits were mighty snifty and high-toned, even when they'd only been poor white trash on earth, and it might make them mad to be called away from their high jinks if they were taking a little recreation, or from their high-priced new york customers if they were working, to tend to cut-rate business. still, she'd have a try, and she did. but after having convulsions for half an hour, she gave it up. reckoned that bud was up to some cussedness off somewhere, and that he wouldn't answer for any two-bits. [illustration: "_elder hoover was accounted a powerful exhorter in our parts._"] the widow was badly disappointed, but she allowed that that was just like bud. he'd always been a boy that never could be found when any one wanted him. so she went off, saying that she'd had her money's worth in seeing clytie throw those fancy fits. but next day she came again and paid down four bits, and clytie reckoned that that ought to fetch bud sure. someways though, she didn't have any luck, and finally the widow suggested that she call up bud's father--buck williams had been dead a matter of ten years--and the old man responded promptly. "where's bud?" asked the widow. hadn't laid eyes on him. didn't know he'd come across. had he joined the church before he started? "no." then he'd have to look downstairs for him. clytie told the widow to call again and they'd get him sure. so she came back next day and laid down a dollar. that fetched old buck williams' ghost on the jump, you bet, but he said he hadn't laid eyes on bud yet. they hauled the sweet by and by with a drag net, but they couldn't get a rap from him. clytie trotted out george washington, and napoleon, and billy patterson, and ben franklin, and captain kidd, just to show that there was no deception, but they couldn't get a whisper even from bud. i reckon clytie had been stringing the old lady along, intending to produce bud's spook as a sort of red-fire, calcium-light, grand-march-of-the-amazons climax, but she didn't get a chance. for right there the old lady got up with a mighty set expression around her lips and marched out, muttering that it was just as she had thought all along--bud wasn't there. and when the neighbors dropped in that afternoon to plan out a memorial service for her "lost lamb," she chased them off the lot with a broom. said that they had looked in the river for him and that she had looked beyond the river for him, and that they would just stand pat now and wait for him to make the next move. allowed that if she could once get her hands in "that lost lamb's" wool there might be an opening for a funeral when she got through with him, but there wouldn't be till then. altogether, it looked as if there was a heap of trouble coming to bud if he had made any mistake and was still alive. the widow found her "lost lamb" hiding behind a rain-barrel when she opened up the house next morning, and there was a mighty touching and affecting scene. in fact, the widow must have touched him at least a hundred times and every time he was affected to tears, for she was using a bed slat, which is a powerfully strong moral agent for making a boy see the error of his ways. and it was a month after that before bud could go down main street without some man who had called him a noble little fellow, or a bright, manly little chap, while he was drowned, reaching out and fetching him a clip on the ear for having come back and put the laugh on him. no one except the widow ever really got at the straight of bud's conduct, but it appeared that he left home to get a few indian scalps, and that he came back for a little bacon and corn pone. i simply mention the widow in passing as an example of the fact that the time to do your worrying is when a thing is all over, and that the way to do it is to leave it to the neighbors. i sail for home to-morrow. your affectionate father, john graham. +----------------------------+ | no. | +----------------------------+ | from john graham, at the | | new york house of graham | | & co., to his son, | | pierrepont, at the union | | stock yards in chicago. | | the old man, on the | | voyage home, has met a | | girl who interests him | | and who in turn seems to | | be interested in mr. | | pierrepont. | +----------------------------+ xix new york, november , - _dear pierrepont:_ who is this helen heath, and what are your intentions there? she knows a heap more about you than she ought to know if they're not serious, and i know a heap less about her than i ought to know if they are. hadn't got out of sight of land before we'd become acquainted somehow, and she's been treating me like a father clear across the atlantic. she's a mighty pretty girl, and a mighty nice girl, and a mighty sensible girl--in fact she's so exactly the sort of girl i'd like to see you marry that i'm afraid there's nothing in it. of course, your salary isn't a large one yet, but you can buy a whole lot of happiness with fifty dollars a week when you have the right sort of a woman for your purchasing agent. and while i don't go much on love in a cottage, love in a flat, with fifty a week as a starter, is just about right, if the girl is just about right. if she isn't, it doesn't make any special difference how you start out, you're going to end up all wrong. money ought never to be _the_ consideration in marriage, but it always ought to be _a_ consideration. when a boy and a girl don't think enough about money before the ceremony, they're going to have to think altogether too much about it after; and when a man's doing sums at home evenings, it comes kind of awkward for him to try to hold his wife on his lap. there's nothing in this talk that two can live cheaper than one. a good wife doubles a man's expenses and doubles his happiness, and that's a pretty good investment if a fellow's got the money to invest. i have met women who had cut their husband's expenses in half, but they needed the money because they had doubled their own. i might add, too, that i've met a good many husbands who had cut their wives' expenses in half, and they fit naturally into any discussion of our business, because they are hogs. there's a point where economy becomes a vice, and that's when a man leaves its practice to his wife. an unmarried man is a good deal like a piece of unimproved real estate--he may be worth a whole lot of money, but he isn't of any particular use except to build on. the great trouble with a lot of these fellows is that they're "made land," and if you dig down a few feet you strike ooze and booze under the layer of dollars that their daddies dumped in on top. of course, the only way to deal with a proposition of that sort is to drive forty-foot piles clear down to solid rock and then to lay railroad iron and cement till you've got something to build on. but a lot of women will go right ahead without any preliminaries and wonder what's the matter when the walls begin to crack and tumble about their ears. i never come across a case of this sort without thinking of jack carter, whose father died about ten years ago and left jack a million dollars, and left me as trustee of both until jack reached his twenty-fifth birthday. i didn't relish the job particularly, because jack was one of these charlotte-russe boys, all whipped cream and sponge cake and high-priced flavoring extracts, without any filling qualities. there wasn't any special harm in him, but there wasn't any special good, either, and i always feel that there's more hope for a fellow who's an out and out cuss than for one who's simply made up of a lot of little trifling meannesses. jack wore mighty warm clothes and mighty hot vests, and the girls all said that he was a perfect dream, but i've never been one who could get a great deal of satisfaction out of dreams. it's mighty seldom that i do an exhibition mile, but the winter after i inherited jack--he was twenty-three years old then--your ma kept after me so strong that i finally put on my fancy harness and let her trot me around to a meet at the ralstons one evening. of course, i was in the percheron class, and so i just stood around with a lot of heavy old draft horses, who ought to have been resting up in their stalls, and watched the three-year-olds prance and cavort round the ring. jack was among them, of course, dancing with the youngest churchill girl, and holding her a little tighter, i thought, than was necessary to keep her from falling. had both ends working at once--never missed a stitch with his heels and was turning out a steady stream of fancy work with his mouth. and all the time he was looking at that girl as intent and eager as a scotch terrier at a rat hole. i happened just then to be pinned into a corner with two or three women who couldn't escape--edith curzon, a great big brunette whom i knew jack had been pretty soft on, and little mabel moore, a nice roly-poly blonde, and it didn't take me long to see that they were watching jack with a hair-pulling itch in their finger-tips. in fact, it looked to me as if the young scamp was a good deal more popular than the facts about him, as i knew them, warranted him in being. i slipped out early, but next evening, when i was sitting in my little smoking-room, jack came charging in, and, without any sparring for an opening, burst out with: "isn't she a stunner, mr. graham!" i allowed that miss curzon was something on the stun. "miss curzon, indeed," he sniffed. "she's well enough in a big, black way, but miss churchill----" and he began to paw the air for adjectives. "but how was i to know that you meant miss churchill?" i answered. "it's just a fortnight now since you told me that miss curzon was a goddess, and that she was going to reign in your life and make it a heaven, or something of that sort. i forget just the words, but they were mighty beautiful thoughts and did you credit." "don't remind me of it," jack groaned. "it makes me sick every time i think what an ass i've been." i allowed that i felt a little nausea myself, but i told him that this time, at least, he'd shown some sense; that miss churchill was a mighty pretty girl and rich enough so that her liking him didn't prove anything worse against her than bad judgment; and that the thing for him to do was to quit his foolishness, propose to her, and dance the heel, toe, and a one, two, three with her for the rest of his natural days. jack hemmed and hawked a little over this, but finally he came out with it: "that's the deuce of it," says he. "i'm in a beastly mess--i want to marry her--she's the only girl in the world for me--the only one i've ever really loved, and i've proposed--that is, i want to propose to her, but i'm engaged to edith curzon on the quiet." "i reckon you'll marry her, then," i said; "because she strikes me as a young woman who's not going to lose a million dollars without putting a tracer after it." "and that's not the worst of it," jack went on. "not the worst of it! what do you mean! you haven't married her on the quiet, too, have you?" "no, but there's mabel moore, you know." i didn't know, but i guessed. "you haven't been such a double-barreled donkey as to give her an option on yourself, too?" "no, no; but i've said things to her which she may have misconstrued, if she's inclined to be literal." "you bet she is," i answered. "i never saw a nice, fat, blonde girl who took a million-dollar offer as a practical joke. what is it you've said to her? 'i love you, darling,' or something about as foxy and noncommittal." "not that--not that at all; but she may have stretched what i said to mean that." well, sir, i just laid into that fellow when i heard that, though i could see that he didn't think it was refined of me. he'd never made it any secret that he thought me a pretty coarse old man, and his face showed me now that i was jarring his delicate works. "i suppose i have been indiscreet," he said, "but i must say i expected something different from you, after coming out this way and owning up. of course, if you don't care to help me----" i cut him short there. "i've got to help you. but i want you to tell me the truth. how have you managed to keep this curzon girl from announcing her engagement to you?" "well," and there was a scared grin on jack's face now; "i told her that you, as trustee under father's will, had certain unpleasant powers over my money--in fact, that most of it would revert to sis if i married against your wishes, and that you disliked her, and that she must work herself into your good graces before we could think of announcing our engagement." i saw right off that he had told mabel moore the same thing, and that was why those two girls had been so blamed polite to me the night before. so i rounded on him sudden. "you're engaged to that miss moore, too, aren't you?" "i'm afraid so." "why didn't you come out like a man and say so at first?" "i couldn't, mr. graham. someways it seemed like piling it up so, and you take such a cold-blooded, unsympathetic view of these things." "perhaps i do; yes, i'm afraid i do. how far are you committed to miss churchill?" jack cheered right up. "i'm all right there, at least. she hasn't answered." "then you've asked?" "why, so i have; at least she may take it for something like asking. but i don't care; i want to be committed there; i can't live without her; she's the only----" i saw that he was beginning to foam up again, so i shut him off straight at the spigot. told him to save it till after the ceremony. set him down to my desk, and dictated two letters, one to edith curzon and the other to mabel moore, and made him sign and seal them, then and there. he twisted and squirmed and tried to wiggle off the hook, but i wouldn't give him any slack. made him come right out and say that he was a yellow pup; that he had made a mistake; and that the stuff was all off, though i worded it a little different from that. slung in some fancy words and high-toned phrases. you see, i had made up my mind that the best of a bad matter was the churchill girl, and i didn't propose to have her commit herself, too, until i'd sort of cleared away the wreckage. then i reckoned on copper-riveting their engagement by announcing it myself and standing over jack with a shotgun to see that there wasn't any more nonsense. they were both so light-headed and light-waisted and light-footed that it seemed to me that they were just naturally mates. jack reached for those letters when they were addressed and started to put them in his pocket, but i had reached first. i reckon he'd decided that something might happen to them on their way to the post-office; but nothing did, for i called in the butler and made him go right out and mail them then and there. i'd had the letters dated from my house, and i made jack spend the night there. i reckoned it might be as well to keep him within reaching distance for the next day or two. he showed up at breakfast in the morning looking like a calf on the way to the killing pens, and i could see that his thoughts were mighty busy following the postman who was delivering those letters. i tried to cheer him up by reading some little odds and ends from the morning paper about other people's troubles, but they didn't seem to interest him. "they must just about have received them," he finally groaned into his coffee cup. "why did i send them! what will those girls think of me! they'll cut me dead--never speak to me again." the butler came in before i could tell him that this was about what we'd calculated on their doing, and said: "beg pardon, sir, but there's a lady asking for you at the telephone." "a lady!" says jack. "tell her i'm not here." talk to one of those girls, even from a safe distance! he guessed not. he turned as pale as a hog on ice at the thought of it. "i'm sorry, sir," said the man, "but i've already said that you were breakfasting here. she said it was very important." i could see that jack's curiosity was already getting the best of his scare. after all, he threw out, feeling me, it might be best to hear what she had to say. i thought so, too, and he went to the instrument and shouted "hello!" in what he tried to make a big, brave voice, but it wobbled a little all the same. i got the other end of the conversation from him when he was through. "hello! is that you, jack?" chirped the curzon girl. "yes. who is that?" "edith," came back. "i have your letter, but i can't make out what it's all about. come this afternoon and tell me, for we're still good friends, aren't we, jack?" "yes--certainly," stammered jack. "and you'll come?" "yes," he answered, and cut her off. he had hardly recovered from this shock when a messenger boy came with a note, addressed in a woman's writing. "now for it," he said, and breaking the seal read: "'_jack dear:_ your horrid note doesn't say anything, nor explain anything. come this afternoon and tell what it means to mabel.'" "here's a go," exclaimed jack, but he looked pleased in a sort of sneaking way. "what do you think of it, mr. graham?" "i don't like it." "think they intend to cut up?" he asked. "like a sausage machine; and yet i don't see how they can stand for you after that letter." "well, shall i go?" "yes, in fact i suppose you must go; but jack, be a man. tell 'em plain and straight that you don't love 'em as you should to marry 'em; say you saw your old girl a few days ago and found you loved her still, or something from the same trough, and stick to it. take what you deserve. if they hold you up to the bull-ring, the only thing you can do is to propose to take the whole bunch to utah, and let 'em share and share alike. that'll settle it. be firm." "as a rock, sir." i made jack come downtown and lunch with me, but when i started him off, about two o'clock, he looked so like a cat padding up the back-stairs to where she knows there's a little canary meat--scared, but happy--that i said once more: "now be firm, jack." "firm's the word, sir," was the resolute answer. "and unyielding." "as the old guard." and jack puffed himself out till he was as chesty as a pigeon on a barn roof, and swung off down the street looking mighty fine and manly from the rear. i never really got the straight of it, but i pieced together these particulars later. at the corner there was a flower store. jack stepped inside and sent a box of roses by special messenger to miss curzon, so there might be something to start conversation when he got there. two blocks farther on he passed a second florist's, turned back and sent some lilies to miss moore, for fear she might think he'd forgotten her during the hour or more before he could work around to her house. then he chased about and found a third florist, from whom he ordered some violets for miss churchill, to remind her that she had promised him the first dance at the blairs' that night. your ma told me that jack had nice instincts about these little things which women like, and always put a good deal of heavy thought into selecting his flowers for them. it's been my experience that a critter who has instincts instead of sense belongs in the bushes with the dicky-birds. no one ever knew just what happened to jack during the next three hours. he showed up at his club about five o'clock with a mighty conceited set to his jaw, but it dropped as if the spring had broken when he caught sight of me waiting for him in the reading-room. "you here?" he asked as he threw himself into a chair. "you bet," i said. "i wanted to hear how you made out. you settled the whole business, i take it?" but i knew mighty well from his looks that he hadn't settled anything. "not--not exactly--that is to say, entirely; but i've made a very satisfactory beginning." "began it all over again, i suppose." this hit so near the truth that jack jumped, in spite of himself, and then he burst out with a really swear. i couldn't have been more surprised if your ma had cussed. "damn it, sir, i won't stand any more of your confounded meddling. those letters were a piece of outrageous brutality. i'm breaking off with the girls, but i've gone about it in a gentler and, i hope, more dignified, way." "jack, i don't believe any such stuff and guff. you're tied up to them harder and tighter than ever." i could see i'd made a bull's eye, for jack began to bluster, but i cut him short with: "go to the devil your own way," and walked out of the club. i reckon that jack felt mighty disturbed for as much as an hour, but a good dinner took the creases out of his system. he'd found that miss moore didn't intend to go to the blairs', and that miss curzon had planned to go to a dance with her sister somewheres else, so he calculated on having a clear track for a trial spin with miss churchill. i surprised your ma a good deal that evening by allowing that i'd go to the blairs' myself, for it looked to me as if the finals might be trotted there, and i thought i'd better be around, because, while i didn't see much chance of getting any sense into jack's head, i felt i ought to do what i could on my friendship account with his father. jack was talking to miss churchill when i came into the room, and he was tending to business so strictly that he didn't see me bearing down on him from one side of the room, nor edith curzon's sister, mrs. dick, a mighty capable young married woman, bearing down on him from the other, nor miss curzon, with one of his roses in her hair, watching him from a corner. there must have been a council of war between the sisters that afternoon, and a change of their plans for the evening. [illustration: "_miss curzon, with one of his roses in her hair, watching him from a corner._"] mrs. dick beat me stalking jack, but i was just behind, a close second. he didn't see her until she got right up to him and rapped him on the arm with her fan. "dear jack," she says, all smiles and sugar; "dear jack, i've just heard. edith has told me, though i'd suspected something for a long, long time, you rogue," and she fetched him another kittenish clip with the fan. jack looked about the way i once saw old miss curley, the president of the good templars back in our town in missouri, look at a party when she half-swallowed a spoonful of her ice cream before she discovered that it was flavored with liquor. but he stammered something and hurried miss churchill away, though not before a fellow who was going by had wrung his hand and said, "congratulations, old chap. just heard the news." jack's only idea seemed to travel, and to travel far and fast, and he dragged his partner along to the other end of the room, while i followed the band. we had almost gone the length of the course, when jack, who had been staring ahead mighty hard, shied and balked, for there, not ten feet away, stood miss moore, carrying his lilies, and blushing and smiling at something young blakely was saying to her. i reckon jack guessed what that something was, but just then blakely caught sight of him and rushed up to where he was standing. "i congratulate you, jack," he said. "miss moore's a charming girl." and now miss churchill slipped her hand from his arm and turned and looked at jack. her lips were laughing, but there was something in her eye which made jack turn his own away. "oh, you lucky jack," she laughed. "you twice lucky jack." jack simply curled up: "wretched mistake somewhere," he mumbled. "awfully hot here--get you a glass of water," and he rushed off. he dodged around miss moore, and made a flank movement which got him by miss curzon and safely to the door. he kept on; i followed. i had to go to new york on business next day. jack had already gone there, bought a ticket for europe, and was just loafing around the pier trying to hurry the steamer off. i went down to see him start, and he looked so miserable that i'd have felt sorry for him if i hadn't seen him look miserable before. "is it generally known, sir, do you think?" he asked me humbly. "can't you hush it up somehow?" "hush it up! you might as well say 'shoo!' to the limited and expect it to stop for you." "mr. graham, i'm simply heartbroken over it all. i know i shall never reach liverpool. i'll go mad on the voyage across, and throw myself overboard. i'm too delicately strung to stand a thing of this sort." "delicate rats! you haven't nerve enough not to stand it," i said. "brace up and be a man, and let this be a lesson to you. good-by." jack took my hand sort of mechanically and looked at me without seeing me, for his grief-dimmed eyes, in straying along the deck, had lit on that pretty little southern baggage, fanny fairfax. and as i started off he was leaning over her in the same old way, looking into her brown eyes as if he saw a full-course dinner there. "think of _your_ being on board!" i heard him say. "i'm the luckiest fellow alive; by jove, i am!" i gave jack up, and an ex-grass widow is keeping him in order now. i don't go much on grass widows, but i give her credit for doing a pretty good job. she's got jack so tame that he eats out of her hand, and so well trained that he don't allow strangers to pet him. i inherited one jack--i couldn't help that. but i don't propose to wake up and find another one in the family. so you write me what's what by return. your affectionate father, john graham. +-----------------------------+ | no. | +-----------------------------+ | from john graham, at the | | boston house of graham & | | co., to his son, | | pierrepont, at the union | | stock yards in chicago. | | mr. pierrepont has told | | the old man "what's what" | | and received a limited | | blessing. | +-----------------------------+ xx boston, november , - _dear pierrepont:_ if that's what, it's all right. and you can't get married too quick to suit the old man. i believe in short engagements and long marriages. i don't see any sense in a fellow's sitting around on the mourner's bench with the sinners, after he's really got religion. the time to size up the other side's strength is before the engagement. some fellows propose to a girl before they know whether her front and her back hair match, and then holler that they're stuck when they find that she's got a cork leg and a glass eye as well. i haven't any sympathy with them. they start out on the principle that married people have only one meal a day, and that of fried oysters and tutti-frutti ice-cream after the theatre. naturally, a girl's got her better nature and her best complexion along under those circumstances; but the really valuable thing to know is how she approaches ham and eggs at seven a.m., and whether she brings her complexion with her to the breakfast table. and these fellows make a girl believe that they're going to spend all the time between eight and eleven p.m., for the rest of their lives, holding a hundred and forty pounds, live weight, in their lap, and saying that it feels like a feather. the thing to find out is whether, when one of them gets up to holding a ten pound baby in his arms, for five minutes, he's going to carry on as if it weighed a ton. a girl can usually catch a whisper to the effect that she's the showiest goods on the shelf, but the vital thing for a fellow to know is whether her ears are sharp enough to hear him when he shouts that she's spending too much money and that she must reduce expenses. of course, when you're patting and petting and feeding a woman she's going to purr, but there's nothing like stirring her up a little now and then to see if she spits fire and heaves things when she's mad. i want to say right here that there's only one thing more aggravating in this world than a woman who gets noisy when she's mad, and that's one who gets quiet. the first breaks her spell of temper with the crockery, but the second simmers along like a freight engine on the track beside your berth--keeps you scared and ready to jump for fear she's going to blow off any minute; but she never does and gets it over with--just drizzles it out. you can punch your brother when he plays the martyr, but you've got to love your wife. a violent woman drives a fellow to drink, but a nagging one drives him crazy. she takes his faults and ties them to him like a tin can to a yellow dog's tail, and the harder he runs to get away from them the more he hears of them. i simply mention these things in a general way, and in the spirit of the preacher at the funeral of the man who wasn't "a professor"--because it's customary to make a few appropriate remarks on these occasions. from what i saw of helen heath, i reckon she's not getting any the best of it. she's what i call a mighty eligible young woman--pretty, bright, sensible, and without any fortune to make her foolish and you a fool. in fact, you'd have to sit up nights to make yourself good enough for her, even if you brought her a million, instead of fifty a week. i'm a great believer in women in the home, but i don't take much stock in them in the office, though i reckon i'm prejudiced and they've come to stay. i never do business with a woman that i don't think of a little incident which happened when i was first married to your ma. we set up housekeeping in one of those cottages that you read about in the story books, but that you want to shy away from, when it's put up to you to live in one of them. there were nice climbing roses on the front porch, but no running water in the kitchen; there were a-plenty of old fashioned posies in the front yard, and a-plenty of rats in the cellar; there was half an acre of ground out back, but so little room inside that i had to sit with my feet out a window. it was just the place to go for a picnic, but it's been my experience that a fellow does most of his picnicking before he's married. your ma did the cooking, and i hustled for things to cook, though i would take a shy at it myself once in a while and get up my muscle tossing flapjacks. it was pretty rough sailing, you bet, but one way and another we managed to get a good deal of satisfaction out of it, because we had made up our minds to take our fun as we went along. with most people happiness is something that is always just a day off. but i have made it a rule never to put off being happy till to-morrow. don't accept notes for happiness, because you'll find that when they're due they're never paid, but just renewed for another thirty days. i was clerking in a general store at that time, but i had a little weakness for livestock, even then; and while i couldn't afford to plunge in it exactly, i managed to buy a likely little shoat that i reckoned on carrying through the summer on credit and presenting with a bill for board in the fall. he was just a plain pig when he came to us, and we kept him in a little sty, but we weren't long in finding out that he wasn't any ordinary root-and-grunt pig. the first i knew your ma was calling him toby, and had turned him loose. answered to his name like a dog. never saw such a sociable pig. wanted to sit on the porch with us. tried to come into the house evenings. used to run down the road squealing for joy when he saw me coming home from work. well, it got on towards november and toby had been making the most of his opportunities. i never saw a pig that turned corn into fat so fast, and the stouter he got the better his disposition grew. i reckon i was attached to him myself, in a sort of a sneaking way, but i was mighty fond of hog meat, too, and we needed toby in the kitchen. so i sent around and had him butchered. when i got home to dinner next day, i noticed that your ma looked mighty solemn as she set the roast of pork down in front of me, but i strayed off, thinking of something else, as i carved, and my wits were off wool gathering sure enough when i said: "will you have a piece of toby, my dear?" well sir, she just looked at me for a moment, and then she burst out crying and ran away from the table. but when i went after her and asked her what was the matter, she stopped crying and was mad in a minute all the way through. called me a heartless, cruel cannibal. that seemed to relieve her so that she got over her mad and began to cry again. begged me to take toby out of pickle and to bury him in the garden. i reasoned with her, and in the end i made her see that any obsequies for toby, with pork at eight cents a pound, would be a pretty expensive funeral for us. but first and last she had managed to take my appetite away so that i didn't want any roast pork for dinner or cold pork for supper. that night i took what was left of toby to a store keeper at the crossing, who i knew would be able to gaze on his hams without bursting into tears, and got a pretty fair price for him. i simply mention toby in passing, as an example of why i believe women weren't cut out for business--at least for the pork-packing business. i've had dealings with a good many of them, first and last, and it's been my experience that when they've got a weak case they add their sex to it and win, and that when they've got a strong case they subtract their sex from it and deal with you harder than a man. they're simply bound to win either way, and i don't like to play a game where i haven't any show. when a clerk makes a fool break, i don't want to beg his pardon for calling his attention to it, and i don't want him to blush and tremble and leak a little brine into a fancy pocket handkerchief. a little change is a mighty soothing thing, and i like a woman's ways too much at home to care very much for them at the office. instead of hiring women, i try to hire their husbands, and then i usually have them both working for me. there's nothing like a woman at home to spur on a man at the office. a married man is worth more salary than a single one, because his wife makes him worth more. he's apt to go to bed a little sooner and to get up a little earlier; to go a little steadier and to work a little harder than the fellow who's got to amuse a different girl every night, and can't stay at home to do it. that's why i'm going to raise your salary to seventy-five dollars a week the day you marry helen, and that's why i'm going to quit writing these letters--i'm simply going to turn you over to her and let her keep you in order. i bet she'll do a better job than i have. your affectionate father, john graham. the end * * * * * notable books of american humor from the list of small, maynard & company, boston * * * * * by finlay peter dunne ("mr. dooley") "mr. dooley must be added to the acquaintance of all who esteem good sense and good humor. he is worthy to take his place as a national satirist beside hosea biglow."--_the academy_, london. * * * =mr. dooley: in peace and in war ( th thousand)= "we awoke in the morning to kneel at the shrine of dooley, and to confess that here was the man, here the very fellow, we had long been waiting for,--here at last america's new humorist."--max pemberton, in _the london daily mail_. "full of wit and humor and real philosophy which rank their possessor among those humorists who have really made a genuine contribution to permanent literature."--harry thurston peck, in _the bookman_. "his eloquence is a torrent, and his satire as strong and stinging as a slave-driver's whip."--_pall mall gazette_. green cloth, decorative, x - / in. =$ . = * * * =mr. dooley: in the hearts of his countrymen ( th thousand)= "the depression that could prevail against the influence of 'mr. dooley's' ebullient drollery, gay wisdom, and rich brogue would be profound indeed, and its victim would be an altogether hopeless case."--_the london world._ "his new book shows no falling off: his wit is as nimble as ever, his eye as quick to note incongruities, his satire as well directed and as brilliant."--_the academy_, london. "'mr. dooley' improves on acquaintance. his creator is a real and rare humorist."--_the bookman._ blue cloth, decorative, x - / in. =$ . = * * * * * by gelett burgess. =vivette. or, the memoirs of the romance association.= setting forth the diverting adventures of one richard redforth in the very pleasant city of millamours; how he took service in the association; how he met and wooed the gay vivette; how they sped their honeymoon and played the town; how they spread a mad banquet; of them that came thereto, and the tales they told; of the exploits of the principal characters, and especially of the disappearance of vivette. 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"the charm of the book is the permanent charm of all literature, according to matthew arnold's admirable definition. _georgie_ is a singularly acute and humorous interpretation of the home life led by the american who is neither too rich to be aping the english nor too poor to avoid the other extreme of europeanism in slum or hovel. the book is worth reading as holding 'a mirror up to nature,' and it is also worth praising because it discloses between its lines a kindly and unspoiled nature on the part of the author."--_chicago tribune._ cloth, decorative, - / x - / in. with ten illustrations by ralph bergengren. =$ . = * * * * * by holman f. day =up in maine. stories of yankee life told in verse.= few books of verse have won popular favor so quickly as this volume, which is now in its ninth edition and selling as steadily as when first published. it is a rare combination of wit, humor, sense, and homely pathos. "reading the book, one feels as though he had maine in the phonograph."--_the new york sun._ "james russell lowell would have welcomed this delicious adjunct to _the biglow papers._"--_the outlook._ "so fresh, so vigorous, and so full of manly feeling that they sweep away all criticism."--_the nation._ "his subjects are rough diamonds. they have the inherent qualities from which great characters are developed, and out of which heroes are made."--_buffalo commercial._ cloth, decorative, six illustrations, - / x - / in. =$ . = * * * =pine tree ballads. rhymed stories of unplaned human natur' up in maine.= mr. day's second book bids fair to outdo in popularity his earlier volume. the section titles, "our home folks," "songs of the sea and shore," "ballads of drive and camp," "just human nature," "next to the heart," "our good prevaricators," and "ballads of capers and actions," give an idea of the nature of the contents, which are fully equal in freshness, vigour, and manly feeling to the poems by which mr. day has already won an established reputation. 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"it is pleasant to observe that father tabb is not afraid of the pun. he uses it very felicitously in a number of his verses. it is good to see the rehabilitation of an ancient and unfortunate friend."--_harper's weekly._ cloth, decorative, - / x - / in. =$ . = * * * * * by agnes lee =round rabbit, the. and other child verse= a new holiday edition of mrs. lee's delightful verse, which includes a number of new poems. with illustrations by o'neill latham. "the mother who (can read) to her young ones these cheerful, sweet, and fascinating jingles, with the pretty quaint conceits and ingenious rimes, without chuckling and forgetting her woes, will be indeed deeply dyed in cerulean."--_the bookseller, newsdealer, and stationer._ cloth, decorative, - / x - / in. net, =$ . = * * * * * a standard library of biography * * * _the beacon biographies of eminent americans_ * * * the aim of this series is to furnish brief, readable, and authentic accounts of the lives of those americans whose personalities have impressed themselves most deeply on the character and history of their country. on account of the length of the more formal lives, often running into large volumes, the average busy man and woman have not the time or hardly the inclination to acquaint themselves with american biography. in the present series everything that such a reader would ordinarily care to know is given by writers of special competence, who possess in full measure the best contemporary point of view. each volume is equipped with a photogravure portrait, an engraved title-page, a calendar of important dates, and a brief bibliography for further reading. finally, the volumes are printed in a form convenient for reading and for carrying handily in the pocket. "they contain exactly what every intelligent american ought to know about the lives of our great men."--_boston herald._ "surprisingly complete studies, ... admirably planned and executed."--_christian register._ "prepared as carefully as if they were so many imperial quartos, instead of being so small that they may be carried in the pocket."--_new york times._ "they are books of marked excellence."--_chicago inter-ocean._ "they interest vividly, and their instruction is surprisingly comprehensive."--_the outlook._ price per volume, cloth, = c=. _net._ lambskin, =$ . = _net._ +-------------------------------------------------------------+ | --------------------------------------------------- | | the beacon biographies | | of eminent americans. | | --------------------------------------------------- | | the following volumes are issued:-- | | | | =louis agassiz=, by alice bache gould. | | =john james audubon=, by john burroughs. | | =edwin booth=, by charles townsend copeland. | | =phillips brooks=, by m. a. dewolfe howe. | | =john brown=, by joseph edgar chamberlin. | | =aaron burr=, by henry childs merwin. | | =james fenimore cooper=, by w. b. shubrick clymer. | | =stephen decatur=, by cyrus townsend brady. | | =frederick douglass=, by charles w. chesnutt. | | =ralph waldo emerson=, by frank b. sanborn. | | =david g. farragut=, by james barnes. | | =ulysses s. grant=, by owen wister. | | =alexander hamilton=, by james schouler. | | =nathaniel hawthorne=, by mrs. james t. fields. | | =father hecker=, by henry d. sedgwick, jr. | | =sam houston=, by sarah barnwell elliott. | | ="stonewall" jackson=, by carl hovey. | | =thomas jefferson=, by thomas e. watson. | | =robert e. lee=, by william p. trent. | | =henry w. longfellow=, by george rice carpenter. | | =james russell lowell=, by edward everett hale, jr. | | =samuel f. b. morse=, by john troweridge. | | =thomas paine=, by ellery sedgwick. | | =daniel webster=, by norman hapgood. | | =john greenleaf whittier=, by richard burton. | | | | price per volume, cloth, c. _net_; leather, $ . _net._ | | | | small, maynard & company, publishers. | +-------------------------------------------------------------+ +-------------------------------------------------------------+ | _a companion series to the beacon biographies_ | | --------------------------------------------------- | | the westminster biographies | | _of eminent englishmen_ | | --------------------------------------------------- | | the westminster biographies are uniform in plan, | | size, and general make-up with the beacon biographies, | | the point of important difference lying in the fact that | | they deal with the lives of eminent englishmen instead | | of eminent americans. they are bound in limp red cloth, | | are gilt-topped, and have a cover design and a vignette | | title-page by bertram grosvenor goodhue. like the _beacon | | biographies_, each volume has a frontispiece portrait, a | | photogravure, a calendar of dates, and a bibliography for | | further reading. | | | | the following volumes are issued:-- | | | | =robert browning=, by arthur waugh. | | =daniel defoe=, by wilfred whitten. | | =adam duncan= (lord camperdown), by h. w. wilson. | | =george eliot=, by clara thomson. | | =cardinal newman=, by a. r. waller. | | =john wesley=, by frank banfield. | | | | price per volume, cloth, c. _net_, lambskin, $ . _net._ | | | | small, maynard & company, publishers. | +-------------------------------------------------------------+ transcribed from the t. n. foulis edition david price, email ccx @pglaf.org the provost introduction during a recent visit to the west country, among other old friends we paid our respects to mrs pawkie, the relict of the provost of that name, who three several times enjoyed the honour of being chief magistrate in gudetown. since the death of her worthy husband, and the comfortable settlement in life of her youngest daughter, miss jenny, who was married last year to mr caption, writer to the signet, she has been, as she told us herself, "beeking in the lown o' the conquest which the gudeman had, wi' sic an ettling o' pains and industry, gathered for his family." our conversation naturally diverged into various topics, and, among others, we discoursed at large on the manifold improvements which had taken place, both in town and country, since we had visited the royal burgh. this led the widow, in a complimentary way, to advert to the hand which, it is alleged, we have had in the editing of that most excellent work, entitled, "annals of the parish of dalmailing," intimating, that she had a book in the handwriting of her deceased husband, the provost, filled with a variety of most curious matter; in her opinion, of far more consequence to the world than any book that we had ever been concerned in putting out. considering the veneration in which mr pawkie had been through life regarded by his helpmate, we must confess that her eulogium on the merits of his work did not impress us with the most profound persuasion that it was really deserving of much attention. politeness, however, obliged us to express an earnest desire to see the volume, which, after some little hesitation, was produced. judge, then, of the nature of our emotions, when, in cursorily turning over a few of the well-penned pages, we found that it far surpassed every thing the lady had said in its praise. such, indeed was our surprise, that we could not refrain from openly and at once assuring her, that the delight and satisfaction which it was calculated to afford, rendered it a duty on her part to lose no time in submitting it to the public; and, after lavishing a panegyric on the singular and excellent qualities of the author, which was all most delicious to his widow, we concluded with a delicate insinuation of the pleasure we should enjoy, in being made the humble instrument of introducing to the knowledge of mankind a volume so replete and enriched with the fruits of his practical wisdom. thus, partly by a judicious administration of flattery, and partly also by solicitation, backed by an indirect proposal to share the profits, we succeeded in persuading mrs pawkie to allow us to take the valuable manuscript to edinburgh, in order to prepare it for publication. having obtained possession of the volume, we lost no time till we had made ourselves master of its contents. it appeared to consist of a series of detached notes, which, together, formed something analogous to an historical view of the different important and interesting scenes and affairs the provost had been personally engaged in during his long magisterial life. we found, however that the concatenation of the memoranda which he had made of public transactions, was in several places interrupted by the insertion of matter not in the least degree interesting to the nation at large; and that, in arranging the work for the press, it would be requisite and proper to omit many of the notes and much of the record, in order to preserve the historical coherency of the narrative. but in doing this, the text has been retained inviolate, in so much that while we congratulate the world on the addition we are thus enabled to make to the stock of public knowledge, we cannot but felicitate ourselves on the complete and consistent form into which we have so successfully reduced our precious materials; the separation of which, from the dross of personal and private anecdote, was a task of no small difficulty; such, indeed, as the editors only of the autographic memoirs of other great men can duly appreciate. chapter i--the forecast it must be allowed in the world, that a man who has thrice reached the highest station of life in his line, has a good right to set forth the particulars of the discretion and prudence by which he lifted himself so far above the ordinaries of his day and generation; indeed, the generality of mankind may claim this as a duty; for the conduct of public men, as it has been often wisely said, is a species of public property, and their rules and observances have in all ages been considered things of a national concernment. i have therefore well weighed the importance it may be of to posterity, to know by what means i have thrice been made an instrument to represent the supreme power and authority of majesty in the royal burgh of gudetown, and how i deported myself in that honour and dignity, so much to the satisfaction of my superiors in the state and commonwealth of the land, to say little of the great respect in which i was held by the townsfolk, and far less of the terror that i was to evil- doers. but not to be over circumstantial, i propose to confine this history of my life to the public portion thereof, on the which account i will take up the beginning at the crisis when i first entered into business, after having served more than a year above my time, with the late mr thomas remnant, than whom there was not a more creditable man in the burgh; and he died in the possession of the functionaries and faculties of town-treasurer, much respected by all acquainted with his orderly and discreet qualities. mr remnant was, in his younger years, when the growth of luxury and prosperity had not come to such a head as it has done since, a tailor that went out to the houses of the adjacent lairds and country gentry, whereby he got an inkling of the policy of the world, that could not have been gathered in any other way by a man of his station and degree of life. in process of time he came to be in a settled way, and when i was bound 'prentice to him, he had three regular journeymen and a cloth shop. it was therefore not so much for learning the tailoring, as to get an insight in the conformity between the traffic of the shop and the board that i was bound to him, being destined by my parents for the profession appertaining to the former, and to conjoin thereto something of the mercery and haberdashery: my uncle, that had been a sutler in the army along with general wolfe, who made a conquest of quebec, having left me a legacy of three hundred pounds because i was called after him, the which legacy was a consideration for to set me up in due season in some genteel business. accordingly, as i have narrated, when i had passed a year over my 'prenticeship with mr remnant, i took up the corner shop at the cross, facing the tolbooth; and having had it adorned in a befitting manner, about a month before the summer fair thereafter, i opened it on that day, with an excellent assortment of goods, the best, both for taste and variety, that had ever been seen in the burgh of gudetown; and the winter following, finding by my books that i was in a way to do so, i married my wife: she was daughter to mrs broderip, who kept the head inn in irville, and by whose death, in the fall of the next year, we got a nest egg, that, without a vain pretension, i may say we have not failed to lay upon, and clock to some purpose. being thus settled in a shop and in life, i soon found that i had a part to perform in the public world; but i looked warily about me before casting my nets, and therefore i laid myself out rather to be entreated than to ask; for i had often heard mr remnant observe, that the nature of man could not abide to see a neighbour taking place and preferment of his own accord. i therefore assumed a coothy and obliging demeanour towards my customers and the community in general; and sometimes even with the very beggars i found a jocose saying as well received as a bawbee, although naturally i dinna think i was ever what could be called a funny man, but only just as ye would say a thought ajee in that way. howsever, i soon became, both by habit and repute, a man of popularity in the town, in so much that it was a shrewd saying of old james alpha, the bookseller, that "mair gude jokes were cracked ilka day in james pawkie's shop, than in thomas curl, the barber's, on a saturday night." chapter ii--a kithing i could plainly discern that the prudent conduct which i had adopted towards the public was gradually growing into effect. disputative neighbours made me their referee, and i became, as it were, an oracle that was better than the law, in so much that i settled their controversies without the expense that attends the same. but what convinced me more than any other thing that the line i pursued was verging towards a satisfactory result, was, that the elderly folk that came into the shop to talk over the news of the day, and to rehearse the diverse uncos, both of a national and a domestic nature, used to call me bailie and my lord; the which jocular derision was as a symptom and foretaste within their spirits of what i was ordained to be. thus was i encouraged, by little and little, together with a sharp remarking of the inclination and bent of men's minds, to entertain the hope and assurance of rising to the top of all the town, as this book maketh manifest, and the incidents thereof will certificate. nothing particular, however, came to pass, till my wife lay in of her second bairn, our daughter sarah; at the christening of whom, among divers friends and relations, forbye the minister, we had my father's cousin, mr alexander clues, that was then deacon convener, and a man of great potency in his way, and possessed of an influence in the town-council of which he was well worthy, being a person of good discernment, and well versed in matters appertaining to the guildry. mr clues, as we were mellowing over the toddy bowl, said, that by and by the council would be looking to me to fill up the first gap that might happen therein; and dr swapkirk, the then minister, who had officiated on the occasion, observed, that it was a thing that, in the course of nature, could not miss to be, for i had all the douce demeanour and sagacity which it behoved a magistrate to possess. but i cannily replied, though i was right contented to hear this, that i had no time for governing, and it would be more for the advantage of the commonwealth to look for the counselling of an older head than mine, happen when a vacancy might in the town-council. in this conjuncture of our discoursing, mrs pawkie, my wife, who was sitting by the fireside in her easy chair, with a cod at her head, for she had what was called a sore time o't, said:-- "na, na, gudeman, ye need na be sae mim; every body kens, and i ken too, that ye're ettling at the magistracy. it's as plain as a pikestaff, gudeman, and i'll no let ye rest if ye dinna mak me a bailie's wife or a' be done"-- i was not ill pleased to hear mrs pawkie so spiritful; but i replied, "dinna try to stretch your arm, gude-wife, further than your sleeve will let you; we maun ca'canny mony a day yet before we think of dignities." the which speech, in a way of implication, made deacon clues to understand that i would not absolutely refuse an honour thrust upon me, while it maintained an outward show of humility and moderation. there was, however, a gleg old carlin among the gossips then present, one mrs sprowl, the widow of a deceased magistrate, and she cried out aloud:-- "deacon clues, deacon clues, i redd you no to believe a word that mr pawkie's saying, for that was the very way my friend that's no more laid himself out to be fleeched to tak what he was greenan for; so get him intill the council when ye can: we a' ken he'll be a credit to the place," and "so here's to the health of bailie pawkie that is to be," cried mrs sprowl. all present pledged her in the toast, by which we had a wonderful share of diversion. nothing, however, immediately rose out of this, but it set men's minds a-barming and working; so that, before there was any vacancy in the council, i was considered in a manner as the natural successor to the first of the counsellors that might happen to depart this life. chapter iii--a dirgie in the course of the summer following the baptism, of which i have rehearsed the particulars in the foregoing chapter, bailie mucklehose happened to die, and as he was a man long and well respected, he had a great funeral. all the rooms in his house were filled with company; and it so fell out that, in the confusion, there was neither minister nor elder to give the blessing sent into that wherein i was, by which, when mr shavings the wright, with his men, came in with the service of bread and wine as usual, there was a demur, and one after another of those present was asked to say grace; but none of them being exercised in public prayer, all declined, when mr shavings said to me, "mr pawkie, i hope ye'll no refuse." i had seen in the process, that not a few of the declinations were more out of the awkward shame of blateness, than any inherent modesty of nature, or diffidence of talent; so, without making a phrase about the matter, i said the grace, and in such a manner that i could see it made an impression. mr shavings was at that time deacon of the wrights, and being well pleased with my conduct on this occasion, when he, the same night, met the craft, he spoke of it in a commendable manner; and as i understood thereafter, it was thought by them that the council could not do better than make choice of me to the vacancy. in short, not to spin out the thread of my narration beyond necessity, let it here suffice to be known, that i was chosen into the council, partly by the strong handling of deacon shavings, and the instrumentality of other friends and well-wishers, and not a little by the moderation and prudence with which i had been secretly ettling at the honour. having thus reached to a seat in the council, i discerned that it behoved me to act with circumspection, in order to gain a discreet dominion over the same, and to rule without being felt, which is the great mystery of policy. with this intent, i, for some time, took no active part in the deliberations, but listened, with the doors of my understanding set wide to the wall, and the windows of my foresight all open; so that, in process of time, i became acquainted with the inner man of the counsellors, and could make a guess, no far short of the probability, as to what they would be at, when they were jooking and wising in a round- about manner to accomplish their own several wills and purposes. i soon thereby discovered, that although it was the custom to deduce reasons from out the interests of the community, for the divers means and measures that they wanted to bring to a bearing for their own particular behoof, yet this was not often very cleverly done, and the cloven foot of self-interest was now and then to be seen aneath the robe of public principle. i had, therefore, but a straightforward course to pursue, in order to overcome all their wiles and devices, the which was to make the interests of the community, in truth and sincerity, the end and object of my study, and never to step aside from it for any immediate speciality of profit to myself. upon this, i have endeavoured to walk with a constancy of sobriety; and although i have, to a certainty, reaped advantage both in my own person and that of my family, no man living can accuse me of having bent any single thing pertaining to the town and public, from the natural uprightness of its integrity, in order to serve my own private ends. it was, however, sometime before an occasion came to pass, wherein i could bring my knowledge and observations to operate in any effectual manner towards a reformation in the management of the burgh; indeed, i saw that no good could be done until i had subdued the two great factions, into which it may be said the council was then divided; the one party being strong for those of the king's government of ministers, and the other no less vehement on the side of their adversaries. i, therefore, without saying a syllable to any body anent the same, girded myself for the undertaking, and with an earnest spirit put my shoulder to the wheel, and never desisted in my endeavours, till i had got the cart up the brae, and the whole council reduced into a proper state of subjection to the will and pleasure of his majesty, whose deputies and agents i have ever considered all inferior magistrates to be, administering and exercising, as they do, their power and authority in his royal name. the ways and means, however, by which this was brought to pass, supply matter for another chapter; and after this, it is not my intent to say any thing more concerning my principles and opinions, but only to show forth the course and current of things proceeding out of the affairs, in which i was so called to form a part requiring no small endeavour and diligence. chapter iv--the guildry when, as is related in the foregoing chapter, i had nourished my knowledge of the council into maturity, i began to cast about for the means of exercising the same towards a satisfactory issue. but in this i found a great difficulty, arising from the policy and conduct of mr andrew m'lucre, who had a sort of infeftment, as may be said, of the office of dean of guild, having for many years been allowed to intromit and manage the same; by which, as was insinuated by his adversaries, no little grist came to his mill. for it had happened from a very ancient date, as far back, i have heard, as the time of queen anne, when the union of the kingdoms was brought to a bearing, that the dean of guild among us, for some reason or another, had the upper hand in the setting and granting of tacks of the town lands, in the doing of which it was jealoused that the predecessors of mr m'lucre, no to say an ill word of him, honest man, got their loofs creeshed with something that might be called agrassum, or rather, a gratis gift. it therefore seemed to me that there was a necessity for some reformation in the office, and i foresaw that the same would never be accomplished, unless i could get mr m'lucre wised out of it, and myself appointed his successor. but in this lay the obstacle; for every thing anent the office was, as it were, in his custody, and it was well known that he had an interest in keeping by that which, in vulgar parlance, is called nine points of the law. however, both for the public good and a convenience to myself, i was resolved to get a finger in the dean of guild's fat pie, especially as i foresaw that, in the course of three or four years, some of the best tacks would run out, and it would be a great thing to the magistrate that might have the disposal of the new ones. therefore, without seeming to have any foresight concerning the lands that were coming on to be out of lease, i set myself to constrain mr m'lucre to give up the guildry, as it were, of his own free-will; and what helped me well to this, was a rumour that came down from london, that there was to be a dissolution of the parliament. the same day that this news reached the town, i was standing at my shop- door, between dinner and tea-time. it was a fine sunny summer afternoon. standing under the blessed influence of the time by myself at my shop- door, who should i see passing along the crown of the causey, but mr m'lucre himself and with a countenance knotted with care, little in unison with the sultry indolence of that sunny day. "whar awa sae fast, dean o' guild?" quo' i to him; and he stopped his wide stepping, for he was a long spare man, and looting in his gait. "i'm just," said he, "taking a step to the provost's, to learn the particulars of thir great news--for, as we are to hae the casting vote in the next election, there's no saying the good it may bring to us all gin we manage it wi' discretion." i reflected the while of a minute before i made any reply, and then i said-- "it would hae nae doubt of the matter, mr m'lucre, could it be brought about to get you chosen for the delegate; but i fear, as ye are only dean of guild this year, that's no to be accomplished; and really, without the like of you, our borough, in the contest, may be driven to the wall." "contest!" cried the dean of guild, with great eagerness; "wha told you that we are to be contested?" nobody had told me, nor at the moment was i sensible of the force of what i said; but, seeing the effect it had on mr m'lucre, i replied,-- "it does not, perhaps, just now do for me to be more particular, and i hope what i have said to you will gang no further; but it's a great pity that ye're no even a bailie this year, far less the provost, otherwise i would have great confidence." "then," said the dean of guild, "you have reason to believe that there is to be a dissolution, and that we are to be contested?" "mr m'lucre, dinna speer any questions," was my answer, "but look at that and say nothing;" so i pulled out of my pocket a letter that had been franked to me by the earl. the letter was from james portoport, his lordship's butler, who had been a waiter with mrs pawkie's mother, and he was inclosing to me a five-pound note to be given to an auld aunty that was in need. but the dean of guild knew nothing of our correspondence, nor was it required that he should. however, when he saw my lord's franking, he said, "are the boroughs, then, really and truly to be contested?" "come into the shop, mr m'lucre," said i sedately; "come in, and hear what i have to say." and he came in, and i shut and barred the half-door, in order that we might not be suddenly interrupted. "you are a man of experience, mr m'lucre," said i, "and have a knowledge of the world, that a young man, like me, would be a fool to pretend to. but i have shown you enough to convince you that i would not be worthy of a trust, were i to answer any improper questions. ye maun, therefore, gie me some small credit for a little discretion in this matter, while i put a question to yourself. 'is there no a possibility of getting you made the provost at michaelmas, or, at the very least, a bailie, to the end that ye might be chosen delegate, it being an unusual thing for anybody under the degree of a bailie to be chosen thereto?'" "i have been so long in the guildry," was his thoughtful reply, "that i fear it canna be very well managed without me." "mr m'lucre," said i, and i took him cordially by the hand, "a thought has just entered my head. couldna we manage this matter between us? it's true i'm but a novice in public affairs, and with the mystery of the guildry quite unacquaint--if, however, you could be persuaded to allow yourself to be made a bailie, i would, subject to your directions, undertake the office of dean of guild, and all this might be so concerted between us, that nobody would ken the nature of our paction--for, to be plain with you, it's no to be hoped that such a young counsellor as myself can reasonably expect to be raised, so soon as next michaelmas, to the magistracy, and there is not another in the council that i would like to see chosen delegate at the election but yourself." mr m'lucre swithered a little at this, fearing to part with the bird he had in hand; but, in the end, he said, that he thought what was proposed no out of the way, and that he would have no objection to be a bailie for the next year, on condition that i would, in the following, let him again be dean of guild, even though he should be called a michaelmas mare, for it did not so well suit him to be a bailie as to be dean of guild, in which capacity he had been long used. i guessed in this that he had a vista in view of the tacks and leases that were belyve to fall in, and i said-- "nothing can be more reasonable, mr m'lucre; for the office of dean of guild must be a very fashious one, to folks like me, no skilled in its particularities; and i'm sure i'll be right glad and willing to give it up, when we hae got our present turn served.--but to keep a' things quiet between us, let us no appear till after the election overly thick; indeed, for a season, we maun fight, as it were, under different colours." thus was the seed sown of a great reformation in the burgh, the sprouting whereof i purpose to describe in due season. chapter v--the first contested election the sough of the dissolution of parliament, during the whole of the summer, grew stronger and stronger, and mr m'lucre and me were seemingly pulling at opposite ends of the rope. there was nothing that he proposed in the council but what i set myself against with such bir and vigour, that sometimes he could scarcely keep his temper, even while he was laughing in his sleeve to see how the other members of the corporation were beglammered. at length michaelmas drew near, when i, to show, as it were, that no ill blood had been bred on my part, notwithstanding our bickerings, proposed in the council that mr m'lucre should be the new bailie; and he on his part, to manifest, in return, that there was as little heart-burning on his, said "he would have no objections; but then he insisted that i should consent to be dean of guild in his stead." "it's true," said he in the council on that occasion, "that mr pawkie is as yet but a greenhorn in the concerns of the burgh: however, he'll never learn younger, and if he'll agree to this, i'll gie him all the help and insight that my experience enables me to afford." at the first, i pretended that really, as was the truth, i had no knowledge of what were the duties of dean of guild; but after some fleeching from the other councillors, i consented to have the office, as it were, forced upon me; so i was made dean of guild, and mr m'lucre the new bailie. by and by, when the harvest in england was over, the parliament was dissolved, but no candidate started on my lord's interest, as was expected by mr m'lucre, and he began to fret and be dissatisfied that he had ever consented to allow himself to be hoodwinked out of the guildry. however, just three days before the election, and at the dead hour of the night, the sound of chariot wheels and of horsemen was heard in our streets; and this was mr galore, the great indian nabob, that had bought the beerland estates, and built the grand place that is called lucknoo house, coming from london, with the influence of the crown on his side, to oppose the old member. he drove straight to provost picklan's house, having, as we afterwards found out, been in a secret correspondence with him through the medium of mrs picklan, who was conjunct in the business with miss nelly, the nabob's maiden sister. mr m'lucre was not a little confounded at this, for he had imagined that i was the agent on behalf of my lord, who was of the government side, so he wist not what to do, in the morning when he came to me, till i said to him briskly-- "ye ken, bailie, that ye're trysted to me, and it's our duty to support the nabob, who is both able and willing, as i have good reason to think, to requite our services in a very grateful manner." this was a cordial to his spirit, and, without more ado, we both of us set to work to get the bailie made the delegate. in this i had nothing in view but the good of my country by pleasuring, as it was my duty, his majesty's government, for i was satisfied with my situation as dean of guild. but the handling required no small slight of skill. the first thing was, to persuade those that were on the side of the old member to elect mr m'lucre for delegate, he being, as we had concerted, openly declared for that interest, and the benefit to be gotten thereby having, by use and wont, been at an established and regular rate. the next thing was to get some of those that were with me on my lord's side, kept out of the way on the day of choosing the delegate; for we were the strongest, and could easily have returned the provost, but i had no clear notion how it would advantage me to make the provost delegate, as was proposed. i therefore, on the morning of the business, invited three of the council to take their breakfast with me, for the ostensible purpose of going in a body to the council chamber to choose the provost delegate; but when we were at breakfast, john snakers, my lad in the shop, by my suggestion, warily got a bale of broad cloth so tumbled, as it were by accident, at the door, that it could not be opened; for it bent the key in such a manner in the lock, and crooket the sneck, that without a smith there was no egress, and sorrow a smith was to be had. all were out and around the tolbooth waiting for the upshot of the choosing the delegate. those that saw me in the mean time, would have thought i had gone demented. i ramped and i stamped; i banned and i bellowed like desperation. my companions, no a bit better, flew fluttering to the windows, like wild birds to the wires of their cage. however, to make a long tale short, bailie m'lucre was, by means of this device, chosen delegate, seemingly against my side. but oh! he was a slee tod, for no sooner was he so chosen, than he began to act for his own behoof; and that very afternoon, while both parties were holding their public dinner he sent round the bell to tell that the potato crop on his back rig was to be sold by way of public roup the same day. there wasna one in the town that had reached the years of discretion, but kent what na sort of potatoes he was going to sell; and i was so disturbed by this open corruption, that i went to him, and expressed my great surprise. hot words ensued between us; and i told him very plainly that i would have nothing further to say to him or his political profligacy. however, his potatoes were sold, and brought upwards of three guineas the peck, the nabob being the purchaser, who, to show his contentment with the bargain, made mrs m'lucre, and the bailie's three daughters, presents of new gowns and princods, that were not stuffed with wool. in the end, as a natural consequence, bailie m'lucre, as delegate, voted for the nabob, and the old member was thereby thrown out. but although the government candidate in this manner won the day, yet i was so displeased by the jookerie of the bailie, and the selfish manner by which he had himself reaped all the advantage of the election in the sale of his potatoes, that we had no correspondence on public affairs till long after; so that he never had the face to ask me to give up the guildry, till i resigned it of my own accord after the renewal of the tacks to which i have alluded, by the which renewals, a great increase was effected in the income of the town. chapter vi--the failure of bailie m'lucre bailie m'lucre, as i have already intimated, was naturally a greedy body, and not being content with the profits of his potatoe rig, soon after the election he set up as an o'er-sea merchant, buying beef and corn by agency in ireland, and having the same sent to the glasgow market. for some time, this traffic yielded him a surprising advantage; but the summer does not endure the whole year round, nor was his prosperity ordained to be of a continuance. one mishap befell him after another; cargoes of his corn heated in the vessels, because he would not sell at a losing price, and so entirely perished; and merchants broke, that were in his debt large sums for his beef and provisions. in short, in the course of the third year from the time of the election, he was rookit of every plack he had in the world, and was obligated to take the benefit of the divor's bill, soon after which he went suddenly away from the town, on the pretence of going into edinburgh, on some business of legality with his wife's brother, with whom he had entered into a plea concerning the moiety of a steading at the town-head. but he did not stop on any such concern there; on the contrary, he was off, and up to london in a trader from leith, to try if he could get a post in the government by the aid of the nabob, our member; who, by all accounts, was hand and glove with the king's ministers. the upshot of this journey to london was very comical; and when the bailie afterwards came back, and him and me were again on terms of visitation, many a jocose night we spent over the story of the same; for the bailie was a kittle hand at a bowl of toddy; and his adventure was so droll, especially in the way he was wont to rehearse the particulars, that it cannot fail to be an edification to posterity, to read and hear how it happened, and all about it. i may therefore take leave to digress into the circumstantials, by way of lightening for a time the seriousness of the sober and important matter, whereof it is my intent that this book shall be a register and record to future times. chapter vii--the bribe mr m'lucre, going to london, as i have intimated in the foregoing chapter, remained there, absent from us altogether about the space of six weeks; and when he came home, he was plainly an altered man, being sometimes very jocose, and at other times looking about him as if he had been haunted by some ill thing. moreover, mrs spell, that had the post- office from the decease of her husband, deacon spell, told among her kimmers, that surely the bailie had a great correspondence with the king and government, for that scarce a week passed without a letter from him to our member, or a letter from the member to him. this bred no small consideration among us; and i was somehow a thought uneasy thereat, not knowing what the bailie, now that he was out of the guildry, might be saying anent the use and wont that had been practised therein, and never more than in his own time. at length, the babe was born. one evening, as i was sitting at home, after closing the shop for the night, and conversing concerning the augmentation of our worldly affairs with mrs pawkie and the bairns--it was a damp raw night; i mind it just as well as if it had been only yestreen--who should make his appearance at the room door but the bailie himself, and a blithe face he had? "it's a' settled now," cried he, as he entered with a triumphant voice; "the siller's my ain, and i can keep it in spite of them; i don't value them now a cutty-spoon; no, not a doit; no the worth of that; nor a' their sprose about newgate and the pillory;"--and he snapped his fingers with an aspect of great courage. "hooly, hooly, bailie," said i; "what's a' this for?" and then he replied, taking his seat beside me at the fireside--"the plea with the custom-house folk at london is settled, or rather, there canna be a plea at a', so firm and true is the laws of england on my side, and the liberty of the subject." all this was greek and hebrew to me; but it was plain that the bailie, in his jaunt, had been guilty of some notour thing, wherein the custom-house was concerned, and that he thought all the world was acquaint with the same. however, no to balk him in any communication he might be disposed to make me, i said:-- "what ye say, bailie, is great news, and i wish you meikle joy, for i have had my fears about your situation for some time; but now that the business is brought to such a happy end, i would like to hear all the true particulars of the case; and that your tale and tidings sha'na lack slackening, i'll get in the toddy bowl and the gardevin; and with that, i winket to the mistress to take the bairns to their bed, and bade jenny hachle, that was then our fee'd servant lass, to gar the kettle boil. poor jenny has long since fallen into a great decay of circumstances, for she was not overly snod and cleanly in her service; and so, in time, wore out the endurance of all the houses and families that fee'd her, till nobody would take her; by which she was in a manner cast on mrs pawkie's hands; who, on account of her kindliness towards the bairns in their childhood, has given her a howf among us. but, to go on with what i was rehearsing; the toddy being ordered, and all things on the table, the bailie, when we were quiet by ourselves, began to say-- "ye ken weel, mr pawkie, what i did at the 'lection for the member and how angry ye were yoursel about it, and a' that. but ye were greatly mista'en in thinking that i got ony effectual fee at the time, over and above the honest price of my potatoes; which ye were as free to bid for, had ye liket, as either o' the candidates. i'll no deny, however, that the nabob, before he left the town, made some small presents to my wife and dochter; but that was no fault o' mine. howsever, when a' was o'er, and i could discern that ye were mindet to keep the guildry, i thought, after the wreck o' my provision concern, i might throw mair bread on the water and not find it, than by a bit jaunt to london to see how my honourable friend, the nabob, was coming on in his place in parliament, as i saw none of his speeches in the newspaper. "well, ye see, mr pawkie, i gae'd up to london in a trader from leith; and by the use of a gude scotch tongue, the whilk was the main substance o' a' the bairns' part o' gear that i inherited from my parents, i found out the nabob's dwelling, in the west end o' the town of london; and finding out the nabob's dwelling, i went and rappit at the door, which a bardy flunkie opened, and speer't what i want it, as if i was a thing no fit to be lifted off a midden with a pair of iron tongs. like master, like man, thought i to myself; and thereupon, taking heart no to be put out, i replied to the whipper-snapper--'i'm bailie m'lucre o' gudetown, and maun hae a word wi' his honour.' "the cur lowered his birsses at this, and replied, in a mair ceeveleezed style of language, 'master is not at home.' but i kent what not at home means in the morning at a gentleman's door in london; so i said, 'very weel, as i hae had a long walk, i'll e'en rest myself and wait till he come;' and with that, i plumpit down on one of the mahogany chairs in the trance. the lad, seeing that i was na to be jookit, upon this answered me, by saying, he would go and enquire if his master would be at home to me; and the short and the long o't was, that i got at last an audience o' my honourable friend. "'well, bailie,' said he, 'i'm glad to see you in london,' and a hantle o' ither courtly glammer that's no worth a repetition; and, from less to mair, we proceeded to sift into the matter and end of my coming to ask the help o' his hand to get me a post in the government. but i soon saw, that wi a' the phraseology that lay at his tongue end during the election, about his power and will to serve us, his ain turn ser't, he cared so little for me. howsever after tarrying some time, and going to him every day, at long and last he got me a tide-waiter's place at the custom-house; a poor hungry situation, no worth the grassum at a new tack of the warst land in the town's aught. but minnows are better than nae fish, and a tide-waiter's place was a step towards a better, if i could have waited. luckily, however, for me, a flock of fleets and ships frae the east and west indies came in a' thegither; and there was sic a stress for tide-waiters, that before i was sworn in and tested, i was sent down to a grand ship in the malabar trade frae china, loaded with tea and other rich commodities; the captain whereof, a discreet man, took me down to the cabin, and gave me a dram of wine, and, when we were by oursels, he said to me-- "'mr m'lucre, what will you take to shut your eyes for an hour?' "'i'll no take a hundred pounds,' was my answer. "'i'll make it guineas,' quoth he. "surely, thought i, my eyne maun be worth pearls and diamonds to the east india company; so i answered and said-- "'captain, no to argol-bargol about the matter,' (for a' the time, i thought upon how i had not been sworn in;)--'what will ye gie me, if i take away my eyne out of the vessel?' "'a thousand pounds,' cried he. "'a bargain be't,' said i. i think, however, had i stood out i might hae got mair. but it doesna rain thousands of pounds every day; so, to make a long tale short, i got a note of hand on the bank of england for the sum, and, packing up my ends and my awls, left the ship. "it was my intent to have come immediately home to scotland; but the same afternoon, i was summoned by the board at the custom-house for deserting my post; and the moment i went before them, they opened upon me like my lord's pack of hounds, and said they would send me to newgate. 'cry a' at ance,' quoth i; 'but i'll no gang.' i then told them how i was na sworn, and under no obligation to serve or obey them mair than pleasured mysel'; which set them a' again a barking worse than before; whereupon, seeing no likelihood of an end to their stramash, i turned mysel' round, and, taking the door on my back, left them, and the same night came off on the fly to edinburgh. since syne they have been trying every grip and wile o' the law to punish me as they threatened; but the laws of england are a great protection to the people against arbitrary power; and the letter that i have got to-day frae the nabob, tells me that the commissioners hae abandoned the plea." such was the account and narration that the bailie gave to me of the particulars o' his journey to london; and when he was done, i could not but make a moral reflection or two, on the policy of gentlemen putting themselves on the leet to be members of parliament; it being a clear and plain thing, that as they are sent up to london for the benefit of the people by whom they are chosen, the people should always take care to get some of that benefit in hand paid down, otherwise they run a great risk of seeing their representatives neglecting their special interests, and treating them as entitled to no particular consideration. chapter viii--on the choosing of a minister the next great handling that we had in the council after the general election, was anent the choice of a minister for the parish. the rev. dr swapkirk having had an apoplexy, the magistrates were obligated to get mr pittle to be his helper. whether it was that, by our being used to mr pittle, we had ceased to have a right respect for his parts and talents, or that in reality he was but a weak brother, i cannot in conscience take it on me to say; but the certainty is, that when the doctor departed this life, there was hardly one of the hearers who thought mr pittle would ever be their placed minister, and it was as far at first from the unanimous mind of the magistrates, who are the patrons of the parish, as any thing could well be, for he was a man of no smeddum in discourse. in verity, as mrs pawkie, my wife, said, his sermons in the warm summer afternoons were just a perfect hushabaa, that no mortal could hearken to without sleeping. moreover, he had a sorning way with him, that the genteeler sort could na abide, for he was for ever going from house to house about tea-time, to save his ain canister. as for the young ladies, they could na endure him at all, for he had aye the sough and sound of love in his mouth, and a round-about ceremonial of joking concerning the same, that was just a fasherie to them to hear. the commonality, however, were his greatest adversaries; for he was, notwithstanding the spareness of his abilities, a prideful creature, taking no interest in their hamely affairs, and seldom visiting the aged or the sick among them. shortly, however, before the death of the doctor, mr pittle had been very attentive to my wife's full cousin, miss lizy pinkie, i'll no say on account of the legacy of seven hundred pounds left her by an uncle that made his money in foreign parts, and died at portsmouth of the liver complaint, when he was coming home to enjoy himself; and mrs pawkie told me, that as soon as mr pittle could get a kirk, i needna be surprised if i heard o' a marriage between him and miss lizy. had i been a sordid and interested man, this news could never have given me the satisfaction it did, for miss lizy was very fond of my bairns, and it was thought that peter would have been her heir; but so far from being concerned at what i heard, i rejoiced thereat, and resolved in secret thought, whenever a vacancy happened, dr swapkirk being then fast wearing away, to exert the best of my ability to get the kirk for mr pittle, not, however, unless he was previously married to miss lizy; for, to speak out, she was beginning to stand in need of a protector, and both me and mrs pawkie had our fears that she might outlive her income, and in her old age become a cess upon us. and it couldna be said that this was any groundless fear; for miss lizy, living a lonely maiden life by herself, with only a bit lassie to run her errands, and no being naturally of an active or eydent turn, aften wearied, and to keep up her spirits gaed may be, now and then, oftener to the gardevin than was just necessar, by which, as we thought, she had a tavert look. howsever, as mr pittle had taken a notion of her, and she pleased his fancy, it was far from our hand to misliken one that was sib to us; on the contrary, it was a duty laid on me by the ties of blood and relationship, to do all in my power to further their mutual affection into matrimonial fruition; and what i did towards that end, is the burden of this current chapter. dr swapkirk, in whom the spark of life was long fading, closed his eyes, and it went utterly out, as to this world, on a saturday night, between the hours of eleven and twelve. we had that afternoon got an inkling that he was drawing near to his end. at the latest, mrs pawkie herself went over to the manse, and stayed till she saw him die. "it was a pleasant end," she said, for he was a godly, patient man; and we were both sorely grieved, though it was a thing for which we had been long prepared; and indeed, to his family and connexions, except for the loss of the stipend, it was a very gentle dispensation, for he had been long a heavy handful, having been for years but, as it were, a breathing lump of mortality, groosy, and oozy, and doozy, his faculties being shut up and locked in by a dumb palsy. having had this early intimation of the doctor's removal to a better world, on the sabbath morning when i went to join the magistrates in the council-chamber, as the usage is to go to the laft, with the town-officers carrying their halberts before us, according to the ancient custom of all royal burghs, my mind was in a degree prepared to speak to them anent the successor. little, however, passed at that time, and it so happened that, by some wonder of inspiration, (there were, however, folk that said it was taken out of a book of sermons, by one barrow an english divine,) mr pittle that forenoon preached a discourse that made an impression, in so much, that on our way back to the council-chamber i said to provost vintner, that then was-- "really mr pittle seems, if he would exert himself, to have a nerve. i could not have thought it was in the power of his capacity to have given us such a sermon." the provost thought as i did, so i replied--"we canna, i think, do better than keep him among us. it would, indeed, provost, no be doing justice to the young man to pass another over his head." i could see that the provost wasna quite sure of what i had been saying; for he replied, that it was a matter that needed consideration. when we separated at the council-chamber, i threw myself in the way of bailie weezle, and walked home with him, our talk being on the subject of vacancy; and i rehearsed to him what had passed between me and the provost, saying, that the provost had made no objection to prefer mr pittle, which was the truth. bailie weezle was a man no overladen with worldly wisdom, and had been chosen into the council principally on account of being easily managed. in his business, he was originally by trade a baker in glasgow, where he made a little money, and came to settle among us with his wife, who was a native of the town, and had her relations here. being therefore an idle man, living on his money, and of a soft and quiet nature, he was for the reason aforesaid chosen into the council, where he always voted on the provost's side; for in controverted questions every one is beholden to take a part, and he thought it was his duty to side with the chief magistrate. having convinced the bailie that mr pittle had already, as it were, a sort of infeoffment in the kirk, i called in the evening on my old predecessor in the guildry, bailie m'lucre, who was not a hand to be so easily dealt with; but i knew his inclinations, and therefore i resolved to go roundly to work with him. so i asked him out to take a walk, and i led him towards the town-moor, conversing loosely about one thing and another, and touching softly here and there on the vacancy. when we were well on into the middle of the moor, i stopped, and, looking round me, said, "bailie, surely it's a great neglec of the magistrates and council to let this braw broad piece of land, so near the town, lie in a state o' nature, and giving pasturage to only twa-three of the poor folk's cows. i wonder you, that's now a rich man, and with eyne worth pearls and diamonds, that ye dinna think of asking a tack of this land; ye might make a great thing o't." the fish nibbled, and told me that he had for some time entertained a thought on the subject; but he was afraid that i would be overly extortionate. "i wonder to hear you, bailie," said i; "i trust and hope no one will ever find me out of the way of justice; and to convince you that i can do a friendly turn, i'll no objec to gie you a' my influence free gratis, if ye'll gie mr pittle a lift into the kirk; for, to be plain with you, the worthy young man, who, as ye heard to-day, is no without an ability, has long been fond of mrs pawkie's cousin, miss lizy pinky; and i would fain do all that lies in my power to help on the match." the bailie was well pleased with my frankness, and before returning home we came to a satisfactory understanding; so that the next thing i had to do, was to see mr pittle himself on the subject. accordingly, in the gloaming, i went over to where he stayed: it was with miss jenny killfuddy, an elderly maiden lady, whose father was the minister of braehill, and the same that is spoken of in the chronicle of dalmailing, as having had his eye almost put out by a clash of glaur, at the stormy placing of mr balwhidder. "mr pittle," said i, as soon as i was in and the door closed. "i'm come to you as a friend; both mrs pawkie and me have long discerned that ye have had a look more than common towards our friend, miss lizy, and we think it our duty to enquire your intents, before matters gang to greater length." he looked a little dumfoundered at this salutation, and was at a loss for an answer, so i continued-- "if your designs be honourable, and no doubt they are, now's your time; strike while the iron's hot. by the death of the doctor, the kirk's vacant, the town-council have the patronage; and, if ye marry miss lizy, my interest and influence shall not be slack in helping you into the poopit." in short, out of what passed that night, on the monday following mr pittle and miss lizy were married; and by my dexterity, together with the able help i had in bailie m'lucre, he was in due season placed and settled in the parish; and the next year more than fifty acres of the town-moor were inclosed on a nine hundred and ninety-nine years' tack at an easy rate between me and the bailie, he paying the half of the expense of the ditching and rooting out of the whins; and it was acknowledged by every one that saw it, that there had not been a greater improvement for many years in all the country side. but to the best actions there will be adverse and discontented spirits; and, on this occasion, there were not wanting persons naturally of a disloyal opposition temper, who complained of the inclosure as a usurpation of the rights and property of the poorer burghers. such revilings, however, are what all persons in authority must suffer; and they had only the effect of making me button my coat, and look out the crooser to the blast. chapter ix--an execution the attainment of honours and dignities is not enjoyed without a portion of trouble and care, which, like a shadow, follows all temporalities. on the very evening of the same day that i was first chosen to be a bailie, a sore affair came to light, in the discovery that jean gaisling had murdered her bastard bairn. she was the daughter of a donsie mother, that could gie no name to her gets, of which she had two laddies, besides jean. the one of them had gone off with the soldiers some time before; the other, a douce well-behaved callan, was in my lord's servitude, as a stable boy at the castle. jeanie herself was the bonniest lassie in the whole town, but light-headed, and fonder of outgait and blether in the causey than was discreet of one of her uncertain parentage. she was, at the time when she met with her misfortune, in the service of mrs dalrymple, a colonel's widow, that came out of the army and settled among us on her jointure. this mrs dalrymple, having been long used to the loose morals of camps and regiments, did not keep that strict hand over poor jeanie, and her other serving lass, that she ought to have done, and so the poor guileless creature fell into the snare of some of the ne'er-do-weel gentlemen that used to play cards at night with mrs dalrymple. the truths of the story were never well known, nor who was the father, for the tragical issue barred all enquiry; but it came out that poor jeanie was left to herself, and, being instigated by the enemy, after she had been delivered, did, while the midwife's back was turned, strangle the baby with a napkin. she was discovered in the very fact, with the bairn black in the face in the bed beside her. the heinousness of the crime can by no possibility be lessened; but the beauty of the mother, her tender years, and her light-headedness, had won many favourers; and there was a great leaning in the hearts of all the town to compassionate her, especially when they thought of the ill example that had been set to her in the walk and conversation of her mother. it was not, however, within the power of the magistrates to overlook the accusation; so we were obligated to cause a precognition to be taken, and the search left no doubt of the wilfulness of the murder. jeanie was in consequence removed to the tolbooth, where she lay till the lords were coming to ayr, when she was sent thither to stand her trial before them; but, from the hour she did the deed, she never spoke. her trial was a short procedure, and she was cast to be hanged--and not only to be hanged, but ordered to be executed in our town, and her body given to the doctors to make an atomy. the execution of jeanie was what all expected would happen; but when the news reached the town of the other parts of the sentence, the wail was as the sough of a pestilence, and fain would the council have got it dispensed with. but the lord advocate was just wud at the crime, both because there had been no previous concealment, so as to have been an extenuation for the shame of the birth, and because jeanie would neither divulge the name of the father, nor make answer to all the interrogatories that were put to her--standing at the bar like a dumbie, and looking round her, and at the judges, like a demented creature, and beautiful as a flanders' baby. it was thought by many, that her advocate might have made great use of her visible consternation, and pled that she was by herself; for in truth she had every appearance of being so. he was, however, a dure man, no doubt well enough versed in the particulars and punctualities of the law for an ordinary plea; but no of the right sort of knowledge and talent to take up the case of a forlorn lassie, misled by ill example and a winsome nature, and clothed in the allurement of loveliness, as the judge himself said to the jury. on the night before the day of execution, she was brought over in a chaise from ayr between two town-officers, and placed again in our hands, and still she never spoke. nothing could exceed the compassion that every one had for poor jeanie, so she wasna committed to a common cell, but laid in the council-room, where the ladies of the town made up a comfortable bed for her, and some of them sat up all night and prayed for her; but her thoughts were gone, and she sat silent. in the morning, by break of day, her wanton mother, that had been trolloping in glasgow, came to the tolbooth door, and made a dreadful wally-waeing, and the ladies were obligated, for the sake of peace, to bid her be let in. but jeanie noticed her not, still sitting with her eyes cast down, waiting the coming on of the hour of her doom. the wicked mother first tried to rouse her by weeping and distraction, and then she took to upbraiding; but jeanie seemed to heed her not, save only once, and then she but looked at the misleart tinkler, and shook her head. i happened to come into the room at this time, and seeing all the charitable ladies weeping around, and the randy mother talking to the poor lassie as loudly and vehement as if she had been both deaf and sullen, i commanded the officers, with a voice of authority, to remove the mother, by which we had for a season peace, till the hour came. there had not been an execution in the town in the memory of the oldest person then living; the last that suffered was one of the martyrs in the time of the persecution, so that we were not skilled in the business, and had besides no hangman, but were necessitated to borrow the ayr one. indeed, i being the youngest bailie, was in terror that the obligation might have fallen to me. a scaffold was erected at the tron, just under the tolbooth windows, by thomas gimblet, the master-of-work, who had a good penny of profit by the job, for he contracted with the town-council, and had the boards after the business was done to the bargain; but thomas was then deacon of the wrights, and himself a member of our body. at the hour appointed, jeanie, dressed in white, was led out by the town- officers, and in the midst of the magistrates from among the ladies, with her hands tied behind her with a black riband. at the first sight of her at the tolbooth stairhead, a universal sob rose from all the multitude, and the sternest e'e couldna refrain from shedding a tear. we marched slowly down the stair, and on to the foot of the scaffold, where her younger brother, willy, that was stable-boy at my lord's, was standing by himself, in an open ring made round him in the crowd; every one compassionating the dejected laddie, for he was a fine youth, and of an orderly spirit. as his sister came towards the foot of the ladder, he ran towards her, and embraced her with a wail of sorrow that melted every heart, and made us all stop in the middle of our solemnity. jeanie looked at him, (for her hands were tied,) and a silent tear was seen to drop from her cheek. but in the course of little more than a minute, all was quiet, and we proceeded to ascend the scaffold. willy, who had by this time dried his eyes, went up with us, and when mr pittle had said the prayer, and sung the psalm, in which the whole multitude joined, as it were with the contrition of sorrow, the hangman stepped forward to put on the fatal cap, but willy took it out of his hand, and placed it on his sister himself, and then kneeling down, with his back towards her closing his eyes and shutting his ears with his hands, he saw not nor heard when she was launched into eternity. when the awful act was over, and the stir was for the magistrates to return, and the body to be cut down, poor willy rose, and without looking round, went down the steps of the scaffold; the multitude made a lane for him to pass, and he went on through them hiding his face, and gaed straight out of the town. as for the mother, we were obligated, in the course of the same year, to drum her out of the town, for stealing thirteen choppin bottles from william gallon's, the vintner's, and selling them for whisky to maggie picken, that was tried at the same time for the reset. chapter x--a riot nothing very material, after jeanie gaisling's affair, happened in the town till the time of my first provostry, when an event arose with an aspect of exceeding danger to the lives and properties of the whole town. i cannot indeed think of it at this day, though age has cooled me down in all concerns to a spirit of composure, without feeling the blood boil in my veins; so greatly, in the matter alluded to, was the king's dignity and the rightful government, by law and magistracy, insulted in my person. from time out of mind, it had been an ancient and commendable custom in the burgh, to have, on the king's birth-day, a large bowl of punch made in the council-chamber, in order and to the end and effect of drinking his majesty's health at the cross; and for pleasance to the commonality, the magistrates were wont, on the same occasion, to allow a cart of coals for a bonfire. i do not now, at this distance of time, remember the cause how it came to pass, but come to pass it did, that the council resolved for time coming to refrain from giving the coals for the bonfire; and it so fell out that the first administration of this economy was carried into effect during my provostry, and the wyte of it was laid at my door by the trades' lads, and others, that took on them the lead in hobleshows at the fairs, and such like public doings. now i come to the issue and particulars. the birth-day, in progress of time, came round, and the morning was ushered in with the ringing of bells, and the windows of the houses adorned with green boughs and garlands. it was a fine bright day, and nothing could exceed the glee and joviality of all faces till the afternoon, when i went up to the council-chamber in the tolbooth, to meet the other magistrates and respectable characters of the town, in order to drink the king's health. in going thither, i was joined, just as i was stepping out of my shop, by mr stoup, the excise gauger, and mr firlot, the meal-monger, who had made a power of money a short time before, by a cargo of corn that he had brought from belfast, the ports being then open, for which he was envied by some, and by the common sort was considered and reviled as a wicked hard-hearted forestaller. as for mr stoup, although he was a very creditable man, he had the repute of being overly austere in his vocation, for which he was not liked over and above the dislike that the commonality cherish against all of his calling; so that it was not possible that any magistrate, such as i endeavoured to be, adverse to ill-doers, and to vice and immorality of every kind, could have met at such a time and juncture, a greater misfortune than those two men, especially when it is considered, that the abolition of the bonfire was regarded as a heinous trespass on the liberties and privileges of the people. however, having left the shop, and being joined, as i have narrated, by mr stoup and mr firlot, we walked together at a sedate pace towards the tolbooth, before which, and at the cross, a great assemblage of people were convened; trades' lads, weavers with coats out at the elbow, the callans of the school; in short, the utmost gathering and congregation of the clan-jamphry, who the moment they saw me coming, set up a great shout and howl, crying like desperation, "provost, 'whar's the bonfire? hae ye sent the coals, provost, hame to yersel, or selt them, provost, for meal to the forestaller?" with other such misleart phraseology that was most contemptuous, bearing every symptom of the rebellion and insurrection that they were then meditating. but i kept my temper, and went into the council-chamber, where others of the respectable inhabitants were met with the magistrates and town-council assembled. "what's the matter, provost?" said several of them as i came in; "are ye ill; or what has fashed you?" but i only replied, that the mob without was very unruly for being deprived of their bonfire. upon this, some of those present proposed to gratify them, by ordering a cart of coals, as usual; but i set my face against this, saying, that it would look like intimidation were we now to comply, and that all veneration for law and authority would be at an end by such weakness on the part of those entrusted with the exercise of power. there the debate, for a season, ended; and the punch being ready, the table was taken out of the council- chamber and carried to the cross, and placed there, and then the bowl and glasses--the magistrates following, and the rest of the company. seeing us surrounded by the town-officers with their halberts, the multitude made way, seemingly with their wonted civility, and, when his majesty's health was drank, they shouted with us, seemingly, too, as loyally as ever; but that was a traitorous device to throw us off our guard, as, in the upshot, was manifested; for no sooner had we filled the glasses again, than some of the most audacious of the rioters began to insult us, crying, "the bonfire! the bonfire!--no fire, no bowl!--gentle and semple should share and share alike." in short, there was a moving backwards and forwards, and a confusion among the mob, with snatches of huzzas and laughter, that boded great mischief; and some of my friends near me said to me no to be alarmed, which only alarmed me the more, as i thought they surely had heard something. however, we drank our second glass without any actual molestation; but when we gave the three cheers, as the custom was, after the same, instead of being answered joyfully, the mob set up a frightful yell, and, rolling like the waves of the sea, came on us with such a shock, that the table, and punch-bowl, and glasses, were couped and broken. bailie weezle, who was standing on the opposite side, got his shins so ruffled by the falling of the table, that he was for many a day after confined to the house with two sore legs; and it was feared he would have been a lameter for life. the dinging down of the table was the signal of the rebellious ring leaders for open war. immediately there was an outcry and a roaring, that was a terrification to hear; and i know not how it was, but before we kent where we were, i found myself with many of those who had been drinking the king's health, once more in the council-chamber, where it was proposed that we should read the riot act from the windows; and this awful duty, by the nature of my office as provost, it behoved me to perform. nor did i shrink from it; for by this time my corruption was raised, and i was determined not to let the royal authority be set at nought in my hands. accordingly, mr keelivine, the town clerk, having searched out among his law books for the riot act, one of the windows of the council-chamber was opened, and the bell man having, with a loud voice, proclaimed the "o yes!" three times, i stepped forward with the book in my hands. at the sight of me, the rioters, in the most audacious manner, set up a blasphemous laugh; but, instead of finding me daunted thereat, they were surprised at my fortitude; and, when i began to read, they listened in silence. but this was a concerted stratagem; for the moment that i had ended, a dead cat came whizzing through the air like a comet, and gave me such a clash in the face that i was knocked down to the floor, in the middle of the very council-chamber. what ensued is neither to be told nor described; some were for beating the fire-drum; others were for arming ourselves with what weapons were in the tolbooth; but i deemed it more congenial to the nature of the catastrophe, to send off an express to ayr for the regiment of soldiers that was quartered there--the roar of the rioters without, being all the time like a raging flood. major target, however, who had seen service in foreign wars, was among us, and he having tried in vain to get us to listen to him, went out of his own accord to the rioters, and was received by them with three cheers. he then spoke to them in an exhorting manner, and represented to them the imprudence of their behaviour; upon which they gave him three other cheers, and immediately dispersed and went home. the major was a vain body, and took great credit to himself, as i heard, for this; but, considering the temper of mind the mob was at one time in, it is quite evident that it was no so much the major's speech and exhortation that sent them off, as their dread and terror of the soldiers that i had sent for. all that night the magistrates, with other gentlemen of the town, sat in the council-chamber, and sent out, from time to time, to see that every thing was quiet; and by this judicious proceeding, of which we drew up and transmitted a full account to the king and government in london, by whom the whole of our conduct was highly applauded, peace was maintained till the next day at noon, when a detachment, as it was called, of four companies came from the regiment in ayr, and took upon them the preservation of order and regularity. i may here notice, that this was the first time any soldiers had been quartered in the town since the forty-five; and a woeful warning it was of the consequences that follow rebellion and treasonable practices; for, to the present day, we have always had a portion of every regiment, sent to ayr, quartered upon us. chapter xi--policy just about the end of my first provostry, i began to make a discovery. whether it was that i was a little inordinately lifted up by reason of the dignity, and did not comport myself with a sufficient condescension and conciliation of manner to the rest of the town-council, it would be hard to say. i could, however, discern that a general ceremonious insincerity was performed by the members towards me, especially on the part of those who were in league and conjunct with the town-clerk, who comported himself, by reason of his knowledge of the law, as if he was in verity the true and effectual chief magistrate of the burgh; and the effect of this discovery, was a consideration and digesting within me how i should demean myself, so as to regain the vantage i had lost; taking little heed as to how the loss had come, whether from an ill-judged pride and pretending in myself, or from the natural spirit of envy, that darkens the good-will of all mankind towards those who get sudden promotion, as it was commonly thought i had obtained, in being so soon exalted to the provostry. before the michaelmas i was, in consequence of this deliberation and counselling with my own mind, fully prepared to achieve a great stroke of policy for the future government of the town. i saw that it would not do for me for a time to stand overly eminent forward, and that it was a better thing, in the world, to have power and influence, than to show the possession of either. accordingly, after casting about from one thing to another, i bethought with myself, that it would be a great advantage if the council could be worked with, so as to nominate and appoint my lord the next provost after me. in the proposing of this, i could see there would be no difficulty; but the hazard was, that his lordship might only be made a tool of instrumentality to our shrewd and sly town-clerk, mr keelivine, while it was of great importance that i should keep the management of my lord in my own hands. in this strait, however, a thing came to pass, which strongly confirms me in the opinion, that good-luck has really a great deal to say with the prosperity of men. the earl, who had not for years been in the country, came down in the summer from london, and i, together with the other magistrates and council, received an invitation to dine with him at the castle. we all of course went, "with our best breeding," as the old proverb says, "helped by our brawest cleeding;" but i soon saw that it was only a _pro forma_ dinner, and that there was nothing of cordiality in all the civility with which we were treated, both by my lord and my lady. nor, indeed, could i, on an afterthought, blame our noble entertainers for being so on their guard; for in truth some of the deacons, (i'll no say any of the bailies,) were so transported out of themselves with the glory of my lord's banquet, and the thought of dining at the castle, and at the first table too, that when the wine began to fiz in their noddles, they forgot themselves entirely, and made no more of the earl than if he had been one of themselves. seeing to what issue the matter was tending, i set a guard upon myself; and while my lord, out of a parly-voo politess, was egging them on, one after another, to drink deeper and deeper of his old wines, to the manifest detriment of their own senses, i kept myself in a degree as sober as a judge, warily noting all things that came to pass. the earl had really a commendable share of common sense for a lord, and the discretion of my conduct was not unnoticed by him; in so much, that after the major part of the council had become, as it may be said, out o' the body, cracking their jokes with one another, just as if all present had been carousing at the cross-keys, his lordship wised to me to come and sit beside him, where we had a very private and satisfactory conversation together; in the which conversation, i said, that it was a pity he would not allow himself to be nominated our provost. nobody had ever minted to him a thought of the thing before; so it was no wonder that his lordship replied, with a look of surprise, saying, "that so far from refusing, he had never heard of any such proposal." "that is very extraordinary, my lord," said i; "for surely it is for your interests, and would to a certainty be a great advantage to the town, were your lordship to take upon you the nominal office of provost; i say nominal, my lord, because being now used to the duties, and somewhat experienced therein, i could take all the necessary part of the trouble off your lordship's hands, and so render the provostry in your lordship's name a perfect nonentity." whereupon, he was pleased to say, if i would do so, and he commended my talents and prudence, he would have no objection to be made the provost at the ensuing election. something more explicit might have ensued at that time; but bailie m'lucre and mr sharpset, who was the dean of guild, had been for about the space of half an hour carrying on a vehement argument anent some concern of the guildry, in which, coming to high words, and both being beguiled and ripened into folly by the earl's wine, they came into such a manifest quarrel, that mr sharpset pulled off the bailie's best wig, and flung it with a damn into the fire: the which stramash caused my lord to end the sederunt; but none of the magistrates, save myself, was in a condition to go with his lordship to my lady in the drawing-room. chapter xii--the spy soon after the foregoing transaction, a thing happened that, in a manner, i would fain conceal and suppress from the knowledge of future times, although it was but a sort of sprose to make the world laugh. fortunately for my character, however, it did not fall out exactly in my hands, although it happened in the course of my provostry. the matter spoken of, was the affair of a frenchman who was taken up as a spy; for the american war was then raging, and the french had taken the part of the yankee rebels. one day, in the month of august it was, i had gone on some private concernment of my own to kilmarnock, and mr booble, who was then oldest bailie, naturally officiated as chief magistrate in my stead. there have been, as the world knows, a disposition on the part of the grand monarque of that time, to invade and conquer this country, the which made it a duty incumbent on all magistrates to keep a vigilant eye on the in-comings and out-goings of aliens and other suspectable persons. on the said day, and during my absence, a frenchman, that could speak no manner of english, somehow was discovered in the cross-key inns. what he was, or where he came from, nobody at the time could tell, as i was informed; but there he was, having come into the house at the door, with a bundle in his hand, and a portmanty on his shoulder, like a traveller out of some vehicle of conveyance. mrs drammer, the landlady, did not like his looks; for he had toozy black whiskers, was lank and wan, and moreover deformed beyond human nature, as she said, with a parrot nose, and had no cravat, but only a bit black riband drawn through two button- holes, fastening his ill-coloured sark neck, which gave him altogether something of an unwholesome, outlandish appearance. finding he was a foreigner, and understanding that strict injunctions were laid on the magistrates by the king and government anent the egressing of such persons, she thought, for the credit of her house, and the safety of the community at large, that it behoved her to send word to me, then provost, of this man's visibility among us; but as i was not at home, mrs pawkie, my wife, directed the messenger to bailie booble's. the bailie was, at all times, overly ready to claught at an alarm; and when he heard the news, he went straight to the council-room, and sending for the rest of the council, ordered the alien enemy, as he called the forlorn frenchman, to be brought before him. by this time, the suspicion of a spy in the town had spread far and wide; and mrs pawkie told me, that there was a palid consternation in every countenance when the black and yellow man--for he had not the looks of the honest folks of this country--was brought up the street between two of the town-officers, to stand an examine before bailie booble. neither the bailie, nor those that were then sitting with him, could speak any french language, and "the alien enemy" was as little master of our tongue. i have often wondered how the bailie did not jealouse that he could be no spy, seeing how, in that respect, he wanted the main faculty. but he was under the enchantment of a panic, partly thinking also, perhaps, that he was to do a great exploit for the government in my absence. however, the man was brought before him, and there was he, and them all, speaking loud out to one another as if they had been hard of hearing, when i, on my coming home from kilmarnock, went to see what was going on in the council. considering that the procedure had been in handsome time before my arrival, i thought it judicious to leave the whole business with those present, and to sit still as a spectator; and really it was very comical to observe how the bailie was driven to his wit's-end by the poor lean and yellow frenchman, and in what a pucker of passion the pannel put himself at every new interlocutor, none of which he could understand. at last, the bailie, getting no satisfaction--how could he?--he directed the man's portmanty and bundle to be opened; and in the bottom of the forementioned package, there, to be sure, was found many a mystical and suspicious paper, which no one could read; among others, there was a strange map, as it then seemed to all present. "i' gude faith," cried the bailie, with a keckle of exultation, "here's proof enough now. this is a plain map o' the frith o' clyde, all the way to the tail of the bank o' greenock. this muckle place is arran; that round ane is the craig of ailsa; the wee ane between is plada. gentlemen, gentlemen, this is a sore discovery; there will be hanging and quartering on this." so he ordered the man to be forthwith committed as a king's prisoner to the tolbooth; and turning to me, said:--"my lord provost, as ye have not been present throughout the whole of this troublesome affair, i'll e'en gie an account mysel to the lord advocate of what we have done." i thought, at the time, there was something fey and overly forward in this, but i assented; for i know not what it was, that seemed to me as if there was something neither right nor regular; indeed, to say the truth, i was no ill pleased that the bailie took on him what he did; so i allowed him to write himself to the lord advocate; and, as the sequel showed, it was a blessed prudence on my part that i did so. for no sooner did his lordship receive the bailie's terrifying letter, than a special king's messenger was sent to take the spy into edinburgh castle; and nothing could surpass the great importance that bailie booble made of himself, on the occasion, on getting the man into a coach, and two dragoons to guard him into glasgow. but oh! what a dejected man was the miserable bailie booble, and what a laugh rose from shop and chamber, when the tidings came out from edinburgh that, "the alien enemy" was but a french cook coming over from dublin, with the intent to take up the trade of a confectioner in glasgow, and that the map of the clyde was nothing but a plan for the outset of a fashionable table--the bailie's island of arran being the roast beef, and the craig of ailsa the plum-pudding, and plada a butter- boat. nobody enjoyed the jocularity of the business more than myself; but i trembled when i thought of the escape that my honour and character had with the lord advocate. i trow, bailie booble never set himself so forward from that day to this. chapter xiii--the meal mob after the close of the american war, i had, for various reasons of a private nature, a wish to sequestrate myself for a time, from any very ostensible part in public affairs. still, however, desiring to retain a mean of resuming my station, and of maintaining my influence in the council, i bespoke mr keg to act in my place as deputy for my lord, who was regularly every year at this time chosen into the provostry. this mr keg was a man who had made a competency by the isle-of-man trade, and had come in from the laighlands, where he had been apparently in the farming line, to live among us; but for many a day, on account of something that happened when he was concerned in the smuggling, he kept himself cannily aloof from all sort of town matters; deporting himself with a most creditable sobriety; in so much, that there was at one time a sough that mr pittle, the minister, our friend, had put him on the leet for an elder. that post, however, if it was offered to him, he certainly never accepted; but i jealouse that he took the rumour o't for a sign that his character had ripened into an estimation among us, for he thenceforth began to kithe more in public, and was just a patron to every manifestation of loyalty, putting more lights in his windows in the rejoicing nights of victory than any other body, mr m'creesh, the candlemaker, and collector cocket, not excepted. thus, in the fulness of time, he was taken into the council, and no man in the whole corporation could be said to be more zealous than he was. in respect, therefore, to him, i had nothing to fear, so far as the interests, and, over and above all, the loyalty of the corporation, were concerned; but something like a quailing came over my heart, when, after the breaking up of the council on the day of election, he seemed to shy away from me, who had been instrumental to his advancement. however, i trow he had soon reason to repent of that ingratitude, as i may well call it; for when the troubles of the meal mob came upon him, i showed him that i could keep my distance as well as my neighbours. it was on the friday, our market-day, that the hobleshow began, and in the afternoon, when the farmers who had brought in their victual for sale were loading their carts to take it home again, the price not having come up to their expectation. all the forenoon, as the wives that went to the meal-market, came back railing with toom pocks and basins, it might have been foretold that the farmers would have to abate their extortion, or that something would come o't before night. my new house and shop being forenent the market, i had noted this, and said to mrs pawkie, my wife, what i thought would be the upshot, especially when, towards the afternoon, i observed the commonality gathering in the market-place, and no sparing in their tongues to the farmers; so, upon her advice, i directed thomas snakers to put on the shutters. some of the farmers were loading their carts to go home, when the schools skailed, and all the weans came shouting to the market. still nothing happened, till tinkler jean, a randy that had been with the army at the siege of gibraltar, and, for aught i ken, in the americas, if no in the indies likewise;--she came with her meal-basin in her hand, swearing, like a trooper, that if she didna get it filled with meal at fifteen-pence a peck, (the farmers demanded sixteen), she would have the fu' o't of their heart's blood; and the mob of thoughtless weans and idle fellows, with shouts and yells, encouraged jean, and egged her on to a catastrophe. the corruption of the farmers was thus raised, and a young rash lad, the son of james dyke o' the mount, whom jean was blackguarding at a dreadful rate, and upbraiding on account of some ploy he had had with the dalmailing session anent a bairn, in an unguarded moment lifted his hand, and shook his neive in jean's face, and even, as she said, struck her. he himself swore an affidavit that he gave her only a ding out of his way; but be this as it may, at him rushed jean with open mouth, and broke her timbermeal-basin on his head, as it had been an egg- shell. heaven only knows what next ensued; but in a jiffy the whole market-place was as white with scattered meal as if it had been covered with snow, and the farmers were seen flying helter skelter out at the townhead, pursued by the mob, in a hail and whirlwind of stones and glaur. then the drums were heard beating to arms, and the soldiers were seen flying to their rendezvous. i stood composedly at the dining-room window, and was very thankful that i wasna provost in such a hurricane, when i saw poor mr keg, as pale as a dish clout, running to and fro bareheaded, with the town-officers and their halberts at his heels, exhorting and crying till he was as hoarse as a crow, to the angry multitude, that was raging and tossing like a sea in the market-place. then it was that he felt the consequence of his pridefulness towards me; for, observing me standing in serenity at the window, he came, and in a vehement manner cried to me for the love of heaven to come to his assistance, and pacify the people. it would not have been proper in me to have refused; so out i went in the very nick of time: for when i got to the door, there was the soldiers in battle array, coming marching with fife and drum up the gait with major blaze at their head, red and furious in the face, and bent on some bloody business. the first thing i did was to run to the major, just as he was facing the men for a "charge bagonets" on the people, crying to him to halt; for the riot act wasna yet read, and the murder of all that might be slain would lie at his door; at which to hear he stood aghast, and the men halted. then i flew back to the provost, and i cried to him, "read the riot act!" which some of the mob hearing, became terrified thereat, none knowing the penalties or consequences thereof, when backed by soldiers; and in a moment, as if they had seen the glimpse of a terrible spirit in the air, the whole multitude dropped the dirt and stones out of their hands, and, turning their backs, flew into doors and closes, and were skailed before we knew where we were. it is not to be told the laud and admiration that i got for my ability in this business; for the major was so well pleased to have been saved from a battle, that, at my suggestion, he wrote an account of the whole business to the commander-in-chief, assuring him that, but for me, and my great weight and authority in the town, nobody could tell what the issue might have been; so that the lord advocate, to whom the report was shown by the general, wrote me a letter of thanks in the name of the government; and i, although not provost, was thus seen and believed to be a person of the foremost note and consideration in the town. but although the mob was dispersed, as i have related, the consequences did not end there; for, the week following, none of the farmers brought in their victual; and there was a great lamentation and moaning in the market-place when, on the friday, not a single cart from the country was to be seen, but only simon laidlaw's, with his timber caps and luggies; and the talk was, that meal would be half-a-crown the peck. the grief, however, of the business wasna visible till the saturday--the wonted day for the poor to seek their meat--when the swarm of beggars that came forth was a sight truly calamitous. many a decent auld woman that had patiently eiked out the slender thread of a weary life with her wheel, in privacy, her scant and want known only to her maker, was seen going from door to door with the salt tear in her e'e, and looking in the face of the pitiful, being as yet unacquainted with the language of beggary; but the worst sight of all was two bonny bairns, dressed in their best, of a genteel demeanour, going from house to house like the hungry babes in the wood: nobody kent who they were, nor whar they came from; but as i was seeing them served myself at our door, i spoke to them, and they told me that their mother was lying sick and ill at home. they were the orphans of a broken merchant from glasgow, and, with their mother, had come out to our town the week before, without knowing where else to seek their meat. mrs pawkie, who was a tender-hearted mother herself, took in the bairns on hearing this, and we made of them, and the same night, among our acquaintance, we got a small sum raised to assist their mother, who proved a very well-bred and respectable lady-like creature. when she got better, she was persuaded to take up a school, which she kept for some years, with credit to herself and benefit to the community, till she got a legacy left her by a brother that died in india, the which, being some thousands, caused her to remove into edinburgh, for the better education of her own children; and its seldom that legacies are so well bestowed, for she never forgot mrs pawkie's kindness, and out of the fore-end of her wealth she sent her a very handsome present. divers matters of elegance have come to us from her, year by year, since syne, and regularly on the anniversary day of that sore saturday, as the saturday following the meal mob was ever after called. chapter xiv--the second provostry i have had occasion to observe in the course of my experience, that there is not a greater mollifier of the temper and nature of man than a constant flowing in of success and prosperity. from the time that i had been dean of guild, i was sensible of a considerable increase of my worldly means and substance; and although bailie m'lucre played me a soople trick at the election, by the inordinate sale and roup of his potatoe-rig, the which tried me, as i do confess, and nettled me with disappointment; yet things, in other respects, went so well with me that, about the eighty-eight, i began to put forth my hand again into public affairs, endowed both with more vigour and activity than it was in the first period of my magisterial functions. indeed, it may be here proper for me to narrate, that my retiring into the background during the last two or three years, was a thing, as i have said, done on mature deliberation; partly, in order that the weight of my talents might be rightly estimated; and partly, that men might, of their own reflections, come to a proper understanding concerning them. i did not secede from the council. could i have done that with propriety, i would assuredly not have scrupled to make the sacrifice; but i knew well that, if i was to resign, it would not be easy afterwards to get myself again chosen in. in a word, i was persuaded that i had, at times, carried things a little too highly, and that i had the adversary of a rebellious feeling in the minds and hearts of the corporation against me. however, what i did, answered the end and purpose i had in view; folk began to wonder and think with themselves, what for mr pawkie had ceased to bestir himself in public affairs; and the magistrates and council having, on two or three occasions, done very unsatisfactory things, it was said by one, and echoed by another, till the whole town was persuaded of the fact, that, had i lent my shoulder to the wheel, things would not have been as they were. but the matter which did the most service to me at this time, was a rank piece of idolatry towards my lord, on the part of bailie m'lucre, who had again got himself most sickerly installed in the guildry. sundry tacks came to an end in this year of eighty-eight; and among others, the niggerbrae park, which, lying at a commodious distance from the town, might have been relet with a rise and advantage. but what did the dean of guild do? he, in some secret and clandestine manner, gave a hint to my lord's factor to make an offer for the park on a two nineteen years' lease, at the rent then going--the which was done in my lord's name, his lordship being then provost. the niggerbrae was accordingly let to him, at the same rent which the town received for it in the sixty-nine. nothing could be more manifest than that there was some jookerie cookerie in this affair; but in what manner it was done, or how the dean of guild's benefit was to ensue, no one could tell, and few were able to conjecture; for my lord was sorely straitened for money, and had nothing to spare out of hand. however, towards the end of the year, a light broke in upon us. gabriel m'lucre, the dean of guild's fifth son, a fine spirited laddie, somehow got suddenly a cadetcy to go to india; and there were uncharitably-minded persons, who said, that this was the payment for the niggerbrae job to my lord. the outcry, in consequence, both against the dean of guild, and especially against the magistrates and council for consenting thereto, was so extraordinary, and i was so openly upbraided for being so long lukewarm, that i was, in a manner, forced again forward to take a prominent part; but i took good care to let it be well known, that, in resuming my public faculties, i was resolved to take my own way, and to introduce a new method and reformation into all our concerns. accordingly, at the michaelmas following, that is, in the eighty-nine, i was a second time chosen to the provostry, with an understanding, that i was to be upheld in the office and dignity for two years; and that sundry improvements, which i thought the town was susceptible of, both in the causey of the streets and the reparation of the kirk, should be set about under my direction; but the way in which i handled the same, and brought them to a satisfactory completeness and perfection, will supply abundant matter for two chapters. chapter xv--on the improvement of the streets in ancient times, gudetown had been fortified with ports and gates at the end of the streets; and in troublesome occasions, the country people, as the traditions relate, were in the practice of driving in their families and cattle for shelter. this gave occasion to that great width in our streets, and those of other royal burghs, which is so remarkable; the same being so built to give room and stance for the cattle. but in those days the streets were not paved at the sides, but only in the middle, or, as it was called, the crown of the causey; which was raised and backed upward, to let the rain-water run off into the gutters. in progress of time, however, as the land and kingdom gradually settled down into an orderly state, the farmers and country folk having no cause to drive in their herds and flocks, as in the primitive ages of a rampageous antiquity, the proprietors of houses in the town, at their own cost, began, one after another, to pave the spaces of ground between their steadings and the crown of the causey; the which spaces were called lones, and the lones being considered as private property, the corporation had only regard to the middle portion of the street--that which i have said was named the crown of the causey. the effect of this separation of interests in a common good began to manifest itself, when the pavement of the crown of the causey, by neglect, became rough and dangerous to loaded carts and gentlemen's carriages passing through the town; in so much that, for some time prior to my second provostry, the carts and carriages made no hesitation of going over the lones, instead of keeping the highway in the middle of the street; at which many of the burgesses made loud and just complaints. one dark night, the very first sunday after my restoration to the provostry, there was like to have happened a very sore thing by an old woman, one peggy waife, who had been out with her gown-tail over her head for a choppin of strong ale. as she was coming home, with her ale in a greybeard in her hand, a chaise in full bir came upon her and knocked her down, and broke the greybeard and spilt the liquor. the cry was terrible; some thought poor peggy was killed outright, and wives, with candles in their hands, started out at the doors and windows. peggy, however, was more terrified than damaged; but the gentry that were in the chaise, being termagant english travellers, swore like dragoons that the streets should be indicted as a nuisance; and when they put up at the inns, two of them came to me, as provost, to remonstrate on the shameful condition of the pavement, and to lodge in my hands the sum of ten pounds for the behoof of peggy; the which was greater riches than ever the poor creature thought to attain in this world. seeing they were gentlemen of a right quality, i did what i could to pacify them, by joining in every thing they said in condemnation of the streets; telling them, at the same time, that the improvement of the causey was to be the very first object and care of my provostry. and i bade mrs pawkie bring in the wine decanters, and requested them to sit down with me and take a glass of wine and a sugar biscuit; the civility of which, on my part, soon brought them into a peaceable way of thinking, and they went away, highly commanding my politess and hospitality, of which they spoke in the warmest terms, to their companion when they returned to the inns, as the waiter who attended them overheard, and told the landlord, who informed me and others of the same in the morning. so that on the saturday following, when the town-council met, there was no difficulty in getting a minute entered at the sederunt, that the crown of the causey should be forthwith put in a state of reparation. having thus gotten the thing determined upon, i then proposed that we should have the work done by contract, and that notice should be given publicly of such being our intent. some boggling was made to this proposal, it never having been the use and wont of the corporation, in time past, to do any thing by contract, but just to put whatever was required into the hands of one of the council, who got the work done in the best way he could; by which loose manner of administration great abuses were often allowed to pass unreproved. but i persisted in my resolution to have the causey renewed by contract; and all the inhabitants of the town gave me credit for introducing such a great reformation into the management of public affairs. when it was made known that we would receive offers to contract, divers persons came forward; and i was a little at a loss, when i saw such competition, as to which ought to be preferred. at last, i bethought me, to send for the different competitors, and converse with them on the subject quietly; and i found in thomas shovel, the tacksman of whinstone- quarry, a discreet and considerate man. his offer was, it is true, not so low as some of the others; but he had facilities to do the work quickly, that none of the rest could pretend to; so, upon a clear understanding of that, with the help of the dean of guild m'lucre's advocacy, thomas shovel got the contract. at first, i could not divine what interest my old friend, the dean of guild, had to be so earnest in behalf of the offering contractor; in course of time, however, it spunkit out that he was a sleeping partner in the business, by which he made a power of profit. but saving two three carts of stones to big a dyke round the new steading which i had bought a short time before at the town- end, i had no benefit whatever. indeed, i may take it upon me to say, that should not say it, few provosts, in so great a concern, could have acted more on a principle than i did in this; and if thomas shovel, of his free-will, did, at the instigation of the dean of guild, lay down the stones on my ground as aforesaid, the town was not wronged; for, no doubt, he paid me the compliment at some expense of his own profit. chapter xvi--about the repair of the kirk the repair of the kirk, the next job i took in hand, was not so easily managed as that of the causey; for it seems, in former times, the whole space of the area had been free to the parish in general, and that the lofts were constructions, raised at the special expense of the heritors for themselves. the fronts being for their families, and the back seats for their servants and tenants. in those times there were no such things as pews; but only forms, removeable, as i have heard say, at pleasure. it, however, happened, in the course of nature, that certain forms came to be sabbathly frequented by the same persons; who, in this manner, acquired a sort of prescriptive right to them. and those persons or families, one after another, finding it would be an ease and convenience to them during divine worship, put up backs to their forms. but still, for many a year, there was no inclosure of pews; the first, indeed, that made a pew, as i have been told, was one archibald rafter, a wright, and the grandfather of mr rafter, the architect, who has had so much to do with the edification of the new town of edinburgh. this archibald's form happened to be near the door, on the left side of the pulpit; and in the winter, when the wind was in the north, it was a very cold seat, which induced him to inclose it round and round, with certain old doors and shutters, which he had acquired in taking down and rebuilding the left wing of the whinny hill house. the comfort in which this enabled him and his family to listen to the worship, had an immediate effect; and the example being of a taking nature, in the course of little more than twenty years from the time, the whole area of the kirk had been pewed in a very creditable manner. families thus getting, as it were, portions of the church, some, when removing from the town, gave them up to their neighbours on receiving a consideration for the expense they had been at in making the pews; so that, from less to more, the pews so formed became a lettable and a vendible property. it was, therefore, thought a hard thing, that in the reparation which the seats had come to require in my time, the heritors and corporation should be obligated to pay the cost and expense of what was so clearly the property of others; while it seemed an impossibility to get the whole tot of the proprietors of the pews to bear the expense of new-seating the kirk. we had in the council many a long and weighty sederunt on the subject, without coming to any practical conclusion. at last, i thought the best way, as the kirk was really become a disgrace to the town, would be, for the corporation to undertake the repair entirely, upon an understanding that we were to be paid eighteen pence a bottom- room, per _annum_, by the proprietors of the pews; and, on sounding the heritors, i found them all most willing to consent thereto, glad to be relieved from the awful expense of gutting and replenishing such a great concern as the kirk was. accordingly the council having agreed to this proposal, we had plans and estimates made, and notice given to the owners of pews of our intention. the whole proceedings gave the greatest satisfaction possible to the inhabitants in general, who lauded and approved of my discernment more and more. by the estimate, it was found that the repairs would cost about a thousand pounds; and by the plan, that the seats, at eighteen pence a sitter, would yield better than a hundred pounds a-year; so that there was no scruple, on the part of the town-council, in borrowing the money wanted. this was the first public debt ever contracted by the corporation, and people were very fain to get their money lodged at five per cent. on such good security; in so much, that we had a great deal more offered than we required at that time and epoch. chapter xvii--the law plea the repair of the kirk was undertaken by contract with william plane, the joiner, with whom i was in terms at the time anent the bigging of a land of houses on my new steading at the town-end. a most reasonable man in all things he was, and in no concern of my own had i a better satisfaction than in the house he built for me at the conjuncture when he had the town's work in the kirk; but there was at that period among us a certain person, of the name of nabal smeddum, a tobacconist by calling, who, up to this season, had been regarded but as a droll and comical body at a coothy crack. he was, in stature, of the lower order of mankind, but endowed with an inclination towards corpulency, by which he had acquired some show of a belly, and his face was round, and his cheeks both red and sleeky. he was, however, in his personalities, chiefly remarkable for two queer and twinkling little eyes, and for a habitual custom of licking his lips whenever he said any thing of pith or jocosity, or thought that he had done so, which was very often the case. in his apparel, as befitted his trade, he wore a suit of snuff-coloured cloth, and a brown round-eared wig, that curled close in to his neck. mr smeddum, as i have related, was in some estimation for his comicality; but he was a dure hand at an argument, and would not see the plainest truth when it was not on his side of the debate. no occasion or cause, however, had come to pass by which this inherent cross-grainedness was stirred into action, till the affair of reseating the kirk--a measure, as i have mentioned, which gave the best satisfaction; but it happened that, on a saturday night, as i was going soberly home from a meeting of the magistrates in the clerk's chamber, i by chance recollected that i stood in need of having my box replenished; and accordingly, in the most innocent and harmless manner that it was possible for a man to do, i stepped into this mr smeddum, the tobacconist's shop, and while he was compounding my mixture from the two canisters that stood on his counter, and i was in a manner doing nothing but looking at the number of counterfeit sixpences and shillings that were nailed thereon as an admonishment to his customers, he said to me, "so, provost, we're to hae a new lining to the kirk. i wonder, when ye were at it, that ye didna rather think of bigging another frae the fundament, for i'm thinking the walls are no o' a capacity of strength to outlast this seating." knowing, as i did, the tough temper of the body, i can attribute my entering into an argument with him on the subject to nothing but some inconsiderate infatuation; for when i said heedlessly, the walls are very good, he threw the brass snuff-spoon with an ecstasy in to one of the canisters, and lifting his two hands into a posture of admiration,--cried, as if he had seen an unco-- "good! surely, provost, ye hae na had an inspection; they're crackit in divers places; they're shotten out wi' infirmity in others. in short, the whole kirk, frae the coping to the fundament, is a fabric smitten wi' a paralytic." "it's very extraordinar, mr smeddum," was my reply, "that nobody has seen a' this but yoursel'." "na, if ye will deny the fact, provost," quo' he, "it's o' no service for me to say a word; but there has to a moral certainty been a slackness somewhere, or how has it happened that the wa's were na subjected to a right inspection before this job o' the seating?" by this time, i had seen the great error into the which i had fallen, by entering on a confabulation with mr smeddum; so i said to him, "it' no a matter for you and me to dispute about, so i'll thank you to fill my box;" the which manner of putting an end to the debate he took very ill; and after i left the shop, he laid the marrow of our discourse open to mr threeper the writer, who by chance went in, like mysel', to get a supply of rappee for the sabbath. that limb of the law discerning a sediment of litigation in the case, eggit on mr smeddum into a persuasion that the seating of the kirk was a thing which the magistrates had no legal authority to undertake. at this critical moment, my ancient adversary and seeming friend, the dean of guild, happened to pass the door, and the bickering snuff-man seeing him, cried to him to come in. it was a very unfortunate occurrence; for mr m'lucre having a secret interest, as i have intimated, in the whinstone quarry, when he heard of taking down walls and bigging them up again, he listened with greedy ears to the dubieties of mr threeper, and loudly, and to the heart's content of mr smeddum, condemned the frailty and infirmity of the kirk, as a building in general. it would be overly tedious to mention, however, all the outs and ins of the affair; but, from less to more, a faction was begotten, and grew to head, and stirring among the inhabitants of the town, not only with regard to the putting of new seats within the old walls, but likewise as to the power of the magistrates to lay out any part of the public funds in the reparation of the kirk; and the upshot was, a contribution among certain malecontents, to enable mr threeper to consult on all the points. as in all similar cases, the parties applying for legal advice were heartened into a plea by the opinion they got, and the town-council was thrown into the greatest consternation by receiving notice that the malecontents were going to extremities. two things i saw it was obligational on me to urge forward; the one was to go on still with the reparations, and the other to contest the law- suit, although some were for waiting in the first case till the plea was settled, and in the second to make no defence, but to give up our intention anent the new-seating. but i thought that, as we had borrowed the money for the repairs, we should proceed; and i had a vista that the contribution raised by the smeddumites, as they were caller, would run out, being from their own pockets, whereas we fought with the public purse in our hand; and by dint of exhortation to that effect, i carried the majority to go into my plan, which in the end was most gratifying, for the kirk was in a manner made as good as new, and the contributional stock of the smeddumites was entirely rookit by the lawyers, who would fain have them to form another, assuring them that, no doubt, the legal point was in their favour. but every body knows the uncertainty of a legal opinion; and although the case was given up, for lack of a fund to carry it on, there was a living ember of discontent left in its ashes, ready to kindle into a flame on the first puff of popular dissatisfaction. chapter xviii--the suppression of the fairs the spirit by which the smeddumites were actuated in ecclesiastical affairs, was a type and taste of the great distemper with which all the world was, more or less, at the time inflamed, and which cast the ancient state and monarchy of france into the perdition of anarchy and confusion. i think, upon the whole, however, that our royal burgh was not afflicted to any very dangerous degree, though there was a sort of itch of it among a few of the sedentary orders, such as the weavers and shoemakers, who, by the nature of sitting long in one posture, are apt to become subject to the flatulence of theoretical opinions; but although this was my notion, yet knowing how much better the king and government were acquainted with the true condition of things than i could to a certainty be, i kept a steady eye on the proceedings of the ministers and parliament at london, taking them for an index and model for the management of the public concerns, which, by the grace of god, and the handling of my friends, i was raised up and set forward to undertake. seeing the great dread and anxiety that was above, as to the inordinate liberty of the multitude, and how necessary it was to bridle popularity, which was become rampant and ill to ride, kicking at all established order, and trying to throw both king and nobles from the saddle, i resolved to discountenance all tumultuous meetings, and to place every reasonable impediment in the way of multitudes assembling together: indeed, i had for many years been of opinion, that fairs were become a great political evil to the regular shop-keepers, by reason of the packmen, and other travelling merchants, coming with their wares and under-selling us; so that both private interest and public principle incited me on to do all in my power to bring our fair-days into disrepute. it cannot be told what a world of thought and consideration this cost me before i lighted on the right method, nor, without a dive into the past times of antiquity, is it in the power of man to understand the difficulties of the matter. some of our fair-days were remnants of the papistical idolatry, and instituted of old by the pope and cardinals, in order to make an income from the vice and immorality that was usually rife at the same. these, in the main points, were only market-days of a blither kind than the common. the country folks came in dressed in their best, the schools got the play, and a long rank of sweety-wives and their stands, covered with the wonted dainties of the occasion, occupied the sunny side of the high street; while the shady side was, in like manner, taken possession of by the packmen, who, in their booths, made a marvellous display of goods of an inferior quality, with laces and ribands of all colours, hanging down in front, and twirling like pinnets in the wind. there was likewise the allurement of some compendious show of wild beasts; in short, a swatch of every thing that the art of man has devised for such occasions, to wile away the bawbee. besides the fairs of this sort, that may be said to be of a pious origin, there were others of a more boisterous kind, that had come of the times of trouble, when the trades paraded with war-like weapons, and the banners of their respective crafts; and in every seventh year we had a resuscitation of king crispianus in all his glory and regality, with the man in the coat-of-mail, of bell-metal, and the dukes, and lord mayor of london, at the which, the influx of lads and lasses from the country was just prodigious, and the rioting and rampaging at night, the brulies and the dancing, was worse than vanity fair in the pilgrim's progress. to put down, and utterly to abolish, by stress of law, or authority, any ancient pleasure of the commonality, i had learned, by this time, was not wisdom, and that the fairs were only to be effectually suppressed by losing their temptations, and so to cease to call forth any expectation of merriment among the people. accordingly, with respect to the fairs of pious origin, i, without expounding my secret motives, persuaded the council, that, having been at so great an expense in new-paving the streets, we ought not to permit the heavy caravans of wild beasts to occupy, as formerly, the front of the tolbooth towards the cross; but to order them, for the future, to keep at the greenhead. this was, in a manner, expurgating them out of the town altogether; and the consequence was, that the people, who were wont to assemble in the high street, came to be divided, part gathering at the greenhead, round the shows, and part remaining among the stands and the booths; thus an appearance was given of the fairs being less attended than formerly, and gradually, year after year, the venerable race of sweety-wives, and chatty packmen, that were so detrimental to the shopkeepers, grew less and less numerous, until the fairs fell into insignificance. at the parade fair, the remnant of the weapon-showing, i proceeded more roundly to work, and resolved to debar, by proclamation, all persons from appearing with arms; but the deacons of the trades spared me the trouble of issuing the same, for they dissuaded their crafts from parading. nothing, however, so well helped me out as the volunteers, of which i will speak by and by; for when the war began, and they were formed, nobody could afterwards abide to look at the fantastical and disorderly marching of the trades, in their processions and paradings; so that, in this manner, all the glory of the fairs being shorn and expunged, they have fallen into disrepute, and have suffered a natural suppression. chapter xix--the volunteering the volunteers began in the year , when the democrats in paris threatened the downfall and utter subversion of kings, lords, and commons. as became us who were of the council, we drew up an address to his majesty, assuring him that our lives and fortunes were at his disposal. to the which dutiful address, we received, by return of post, a very gracious answer; and, at the same time, the lord-lieutenant gave me a bit hint, that it would be very pleasant to his majesty to hear that we had volunteers in our town, men of creditable connexions, and willing to defend their property. when i got this note from his lordship, i went to mr pipe, the wine-merchant, and spoke to him concerning it, and we had some discreet conversation on the same; in the which it was agreed between us that, as i was now rather inclined to a corpulency of parts, and being likewise chief civil magistrate, it would not do to set myself at the head of a body of soldiers, but that the consequence might be made up to me in the clothing of the men; so i consented to put the business into his hands upon this understanding. accordingly, he went the same night with me to mr dinton, that was in the general merchandising line, a part-owner in vessels, a trafficker in corn, and now and then a canny discounter of bills, at a moderate rate, to folk in straits and difficulties. and we told him--the same being agreed between us, as the best way of fructifying the job to a profitable issue--that, as provost, i had got an intimation to raise a corps of volunteers, and that i thought no better hand could be got for a co-operation than him and mr pipe, who was pointed out to me as a gentleman weel qualified for the command. mr dinton, who was a proud man, and an offset from one of the county families, i could see was not overly pleased at the preferment over him given to mr pipe, so that i was in a manner constrained to loot a sort a- jee, and to wile him into good-humour with all the ability in my power, by saying that it was natural enough of the king and government to think of mr pipe as one of the most proper men in the town, he paying, as he did, the largest sum of the king's dues at the excise, and being, as we all knew, in a great correspondence with foreign ports--and i winkit to mr pipe as i said this, and he could with a difficulty keep his countenance at hearing how i so beguiled mr dinton into a spirit of loyalty for the raising of the volunteers. the ice being thus broken, next day we had a meeting, before the council met, to take the business into public consideration, and we thereat settled on certain creditable persons in the town, of a known principle, as the fittest to be officers under the command of mr pipe, as commandant, and mr dinton, as his colleague under him. we agreed among us, as the custom was in other places, that they should be elected major, captain, lieutenants, and ensigns, by the free votes of the whole corps, according to the degrees that we had determined for them. in the doing of this, and the bringing it to pass, my skill and management was greatly approved and extolled by all who had a peep behind the curtain. the town-council being, as i have intimated, convened to hear the gracious answer to the address read, and to take into consideration the suggesting anent the volunteering, met in the clerk's chamber, where we agreed to call a meeting of the inhabitants of the town by proclamation, and by a notice in the church. this being determined, mr pipe and mr dinton got a paper drawn up, and privately, before the sunday, a number of their genteeler friends, including those whom we had noted down to be elected officers, set their names as willing to be volunteers. on the sunday, mr pittle, at my instigation, preached a sermon, showing forth the necessity of arming ourselves in the defence of all that was dear to us. it was a discourse of great method and sound argument, but not altogether so quickened with pith and bir as might have been wished for; but it paved the way to the reading out of the summons for the inhabitants to meet the magistrates in the church on the thursday following, for the purpose, as it was worded by the town-clerk, to take into consideration the best means of saving the king and kingdom in the then monstrous crisis of public affairs. the discourse, with the summons, and a rumour and whispering that had in the mean time taken place, caused the desired effect; in so much, that, on the thursday, there was a great congregation of the male portion of the people. at the which, old mr dravel--a genteel man he was, well read in matters of history, though somewhat over-portioned with a conceit of himself--got up on the table, in one of the table-seats forenent the poopit, and made a speech suitable to the occasion; in the which he set forth what manful things had been done of old by the greeks and the romans for their country, and, waxing warm with his subject, he cried out with a loud voice, towards the end of the discourse, giving at the same time a stamp with his foot, "come, then, as men and as citizens; the cry is for your altars and your god." "gude save's, mr dravel, are ye gane by yoursel?" cried willy coggle from the front of the loft, a daft body that was ayefar ben on all public occasions--"to think that our god's a pagan image in need of sick feckless help as the like o' thine?" the which outcry of willy raised a most extraordinary laugh at the fine paternoster, about the ashes of our ancestors, that mr dravel had been so vehemently rehearsing; and i was greatly afraid that the solemnity of the day would be turned into a ridicule. however, mr pipe, who was upon the whole a man no without both sense and capacity, rose and said, that our business was to strengthen the hands of government, by coming forward as volunteers; and therefore, without thinking it necessary, among the people of this blessed land, to urge any arguments in furtherance of that object, he would propose that a volunteer corps should be raised; and he begged leave of me, who, as provost, was in the chair, to read a few words that he had hastily thrown together on the subject, as the outlines of a pact of agreement among those who might be inclined to join with him. i should here, however, mention, that the said few words of a pact was the costive product overnight of no small endeavour between me and mr dinton as well as him. when he had thus made his motion, mr dinton, as we had concerted, got up and seconded the same, pointing out the liberal spirit in which the agreement was drawn, as every person signing it was eligible to be an officer of any rank, and every man had a vote in the preferment of the officers. all which was mightily applauded; and upon this i rose, and said, "it was a pleasant thing for me to have to report to his majesty's government the loyalty of the inhabitants of our town, and the unanimity of the volunteering spirit among them--and to testify," said i, "to all the world, how much we are sensible of the blessings of the true liberty we enjoy, i would suggest that the matter of the volunteering be left entirely to mr pipe and mr dinton, with a few other respectable gentlemen, as a committee, to carry the same into effect;" and with that i looked, as it were, round the church, and then said, "there's mr oranger, a better couldna be joined with them." he was a most creditable man, and a grocer, that we had waled out for a captain; so i desired, having got a nod of assent from him, that mr oranger's name might be added to their's, as one of the committee. in like manner i did by all the rest whom we had previously chosen. thus, in a manner, predisposing the public towards them for officers. in the course of the week, by the endeavours of the committee, a sufficient number of names was got to the paper, and the election of the officers came on on the tuesday following; at which, though there was a sort of a contest, and nothing could be a fairer election, yet the very persons that we had chosen were elected, though some of them had but a narrow chance. mr pipe was made the commandant, by a superiority of only two votes over mr dinton. chapter xx--the clothing it was an understood thing at first, that, saving in the matter of guns and other military implements, the volunteers were to be at all their own expenses; out of which, both tribulation and disappointment ensued; for when it came to be determined about the uniforms, major pipe found that he could by no possibility wise all the furnishing to me, every one being disposed to get his regimentals from his own merchant; and there was also a division anent the colour of the same, many of the doucer sort of the men being blate of appearing in scarlet and gold-lace, insisting with a great earnestness, almost to a sedition, on the uniform being blue. so that the whole advantage of a contract was frustrated, and i began to be sorry that i had not made a point of being, notwithstanding the alleged weight and impediment of my corpulence, the major-commandant myself. however, things, after some time, began to take a turn for the better; and the art of raising volunteers being better understood in the kingdom, mr pipe went into edinburgh, and upon some conference with the lord advocate, got permission to augment his force by another company, and leave to draw two days' pay a-week for account of the men, and to defray the necessary expenses of the corps. the doing of this bred no little agitation in the same; and some of the forward and upsetting spirits of the younger privates, that had been smitten, though not in a disloyal sense, with the insubordinate spirit of the age, clamoured about the rights of the original bargain with them, insisting that the officers had no privilege to sell their independence, and a deal of trash of that sort, and finally withdrew from the corps, drawing, to the consternation of the officers, the pay that had been taken in their names; and which the officers could not refuse, although it was really wanted for the contingencies of the service, as major pipe himself told me. when the corps had thus been rid of these turbulent spirits, the men grew more manageable and rational, assenting by little and little to all the proposals of the officers, until there was a true military dominion of discipline gained over them; and a joint contract was entered into between major pipe and me, for a regular supply of all necessaries, in order to insure a uniform appearance, which, it is well known, is essential to a right discipline. in the end, when the eyes of men in civil stations had got accustomed to military show and parade, it was determined to change the colour of the cloth from blue to red, the former having at first been preferred, and worn for some time; in the accomplishment of which change i had (and why should i disguise the honest fact?) my share of the advantage which the kingdom at large drew, in that period of anarchy and confusion, from the laudable establishment of a volunteer force. chapter xxi--the pressgang during the same just and necessary war for all that was dear to us, in which the volunteers were raised, one of the severest trials happened to me that ever any magistrate was subjected to. i had, at the time, again subsided into an ordinary counsellor; but it so fell out that, by reason of mr shuttlethrift, who was then provost, having occasion and need to go into glasgow upon some affairs of his own private concerns, he being interested in the kilbeacon cotton-mill; and mr dalrye, the bailie, who should have acted for him, being likewise from home, anent a plea he had with a neighbour concerning the bounds of their rigs and gables; the whole authority and power of the magistrates devolved, by a courtesy on the part of their colleague, bailie hammerman, into my hands. for some time before, there had been an ingathering among us of sailor lads from the neighbouring ports, who on their arrival, in order to shun the pressgangs, left their vessels and came to scog themselves with us. by this, a rumour or a suspicion rose that the men-of-war's men were suddenly to come at the dead hour of the night and sweep them all away. heaven only knows whether this notice was bred in the fears and jealousies of the people, or was a humane inkling given, by some of the men-of-war's men, to put the poor sailor lads on their guard, was never known. but on a saturday night, as i was on the eve of stepping into my bed, i shall never forget it--mrs pawkie was already in, and as sound as a door-nail--and i was just crooking my mouth to blow out the candle, when i heard a rap. as our bed-room window was over the door, i looked out. it was a dark night; but i could see by a glaik of light from a neighbour's window, that there was a man with a cocked hat at the door. "what's your will?" said i to him, as i looked out at him in my nightcap. he made no other answer, but that he was one of his majesty's officers, and had business with the justice. i did not like this englification and voice of claim and authority; however, i drew on my stockings and breeks again, and taking my wife's flannel coaty about my shoulders--for i was then troubled with the rheumatiz--i went down, and, opening the door, let in the lieutenant. "i come," said he, "to show you my warrant and commission, and to acquaint you that, having information of several able-bodied seamen being in the town, i mean to make a search for them." i really did not well know what to say at the moment; but i begged him, for the love of peace and quietness, to defer his work till the next morning: but he said he must obey his orders; and he was sorry that it was his duty to be on so disagreeable a service, with many other things, that showed something like a sense of compassion that could not have been hoped for in the captain of a pressgang. when he had said this, he then went away, saying, for he saw my tribulation, that it would be as well for me to be prepared in case of any riot. this was the worst news of all; but what could i do? i thereupon went again to mrs pawkie, and shaking her awake, told her what was going on, and a terrified woman she was. i then dressed myself with all possible expedition, and went to the town-clerk's, and we sent for the town-officers, and then adjourned to the council-chamber to wait the issue of what might betide. in my absence, mrs pawkie rose out of her bed, and by some wonderful instinct collecting all the bairns, went with them to the minister's house, as to a place of refuge and sanctuary. shortly after we had been in the council-room, i opened the window and looked out, but all was still; the town was lying in the defencelessness of sleep, and nothing was heard but the clicking of the town-clock in the steeple over our heads. by and by, however, a sough and pattering of feet was heard approaching; and shortly after, in looking out, we saw the pressgang, headed by their officers, with cutlasses by their side, and great club-sticks in their hands. they said nothing; but the sound of their feet on the silent stones of the causey, was as the noise of a dreadful engine. they passed, and went on; and all that were with me in the council stood at the windows and listened. in the course of a minute or two after, two lassies, with a callan, that had been out, came flying and wailing, giving the alarm to the town. then we heard the driving of the bludgeons on the doors, and the outcries of terrified women; and presently after we saw the poor chased sailors running in their shirts, with their clothes in their hands, as if they had been felons and blackguards caught in guilt, and flying from the hands of justice. the town was awakened with the din as with the cry of fire; and lights came starting forward, as it were, to the windows. the women were out with lamentations and vows of vengeance. i was in a state of horror unspeakable. then came some three or four of the pressgang with a struggling sailor in their clutches, with nothing but his trousers on--his shirt riven from his back in the fury. syne came the rest of the gang and their officers, scattered as it were with a tempest of mud and stones, pursued and battered by a troop of desperate women and weans, whose fathers and brothers were in jeopardy. and these were followed by the wailing wife of the pressed man, with her five bairns, clamouring in their agony to heaven against the king and government for the outrage. i couldna listen to the fearful justice of their outcry, but sat down in a corner of the council-chamber with my fingers in my ears. in a little while a shout of triumph rose from the mob, and we heard them returning, and i felt, as it were, relieved; but the sound of their voices became hoarse and terrible as they drew near, and, in a moment, i heard the jingle of twenty broken windows rattle in the street. my heart misgave me; and, indeed, it was my own windows. they left not one pane unbroken; and nothing kept them from demolishing the house to the ground- stone but the exhortations of major pipe, who, on hearing the uproar, was up and out, and did all in his power to arrest the fury of the tumult. it seems, the mob had taken it into their heads that i had signed what they called the press-warrants; and on driving the gang out of the town, and rescuing the man, they came to revenge themselves on me and mine; which is the cause that made me say it was a miraculous instinct that led mrs pawkie to take the family to mr pittle's; for, had they been in the house, it is not to be told what the consequences might have been. before morning the riot was ended, but the damage to my house was very great; and i was intending, as the public had done the deed, that the town should have paid for it. "but," said mr keelivine, the town-clerk, "i think you may do better; and this calamity, if properly handled to the government, may make your fortune," i reflected on the hint; and accordingly, the next day, i went over to the regulating captain of the pressgang, and represented to him the great damage and detriment which i had suffered, requesting him to represent to government that it was all owing to the part i had taken in his behalf. to this, for a time, he made some scruple of objection; but at last he drew up, in my presence, a letter to the lords of the admiralty, telling what he had done, and how he and his men had been ill-used, and that the house of the chief-magistrate of the town had been in a manner destroyed by the rioters. by the same post i wrote off myself to the lord advocate, and likewise to the secretary of state, in london; commanding, very properly, the prudent and circumspect manner in which the officer had come to apprize me of his duty, and giving as faithful an account as i well could of the riot; concluding with a simple notification of what had been done to my house, and the outcry that might be raised in the town were any part of the town's funds to be used in the repairs. both the lord advocate and mr secretary of state wrote me back by retour of post, thanking me for my zeal in the public service; and i was informed that, as it might not be expedient to agitate in the town the payment of the damage which my house had received, the lords of the treasury would indemnify me for the same; and this was done in a manner which showed the blessings we enjoy under our most venerable constitution; for i was not only thereby enabled, by what i got, to repair the windows, but to build up a vacant steading; the same which i settled last year on my dochter, marion, when she was married to mr geery, of the gatherton holme. chapter xxii--the wig dinner the affair of the pressgang gave great concern to all of the council; for it was thought that the loyalty of the burgh would be called in question, and doubted by the king's ministers, notwithstanding our many assurances to the contrary; the which sense and apprehension begat among us an inordinate anxiety to manifest our principles on all expedient occasions. in the doing of this, divers curious and comical things came to pass; but the most comical of all was what happened at the michaelmas dinner following the riot. the weather, for some days before, had been raw for that time of the year, and michaelmas-day was, both for wind and wet and cold, past ordinar; in so much that we were obligated to have a large fire in the council-chamber, where we dined. round this fire, after drinking his majesty's health and the other appropriate toasts, we were sitting as cozy as could be; and every one the longer he sat, and the oftener his glass visited the punch-bowl, waxed more and more royal, till everybody was in a most hilarious temperament, singing songs and joining chorus with the greatest cordiality. it happened, among others of the company, there was a gash old carl, the laird of bodletonbrae, who was a very capital hand at a joke; and he, chancing to notice that the whole of the magistrates and town-council then present wore wigs, feigned to become out of all bounds with the demonstrations of his devotion to king and country; and others that were there, not wishing to appear any thing behind him in the same, vied in their sprose of patriotism, and bragging in a manful manner of what, in the hour of trial, they would be seen to do. bodletonbrae was all the time laughing in his sleeve at the way he was working them on, till at last, after they had flung the glasses twice or thrice over their shoulders, he proposed we should throw our wigs in the fire next. surely there was some glammer about us that caused us not to observe his devilry, for the laird had no wig on his head. be that, however, as it may, the instigation took effect, and in the twinkling of an eye every scalp was bare, and the chimley roaring with the roasting of gude kens how many powdered wigs well fattened with pomatum. but scarcely was the deed done, till every one was admonished of his folly, by the laird laughing, like a being out of his senses, at the number of bald heads and shaven crowns that his device had brought to light, and by one and all of us experiencing the coldness of the air on the nakedness of our upper parts. the first thing that we then did was to send the town-officers, who were waiting on as usual for the dribbles of the bottles and the leavings in the bowls, to bring our nightcaps, but i trow few were so lucky as me, for i had a spare wig at home, which mrs pawkie, my wife, a most considerate woman, sent to me; so that i was, in a manner, to all visibility, none the worse of the ploy; but the rest of the council were perfect oddities within their wigs, and the sorest thing of all was, that the exploit of burning the wigs had got wind; so that, when we left the council-room, there was a great congregation of funny weans and misleart trades' lads assembled before the tolbooth, shouting, and like as if they were out of the body with daffing, to see so many of the heads of the town in their night-caps, and no, maybe, just so solid at the time as could have been wished. nor did the matter rest here; for the generality of the sufferers being in a public way, were obligated to appear the next day in their shops, and at their callings, with their nightcaps--for few of them had two wigs like me--by which no small merriment ensued, and was continued for many a day. it would hardly, however, be supposed, that in such a matter anything could have redounded to my advantage; but so it fell out, that by my wife's prudence in sending me my other wig, it was observed by the commonality, when we sallied forth to go home, that i had on my wig, and it was thought i had a very meritorious command of myself, and was the only man in the town fit for a magistrate; for in everything i was seen to be most cautious and considerate. i could not, however, when i saw the turn the affair took to my advantage, but reflect on what small and visionary grounds the popularity of public men will sometimes rest. chapter xxiii--three the death of mr m'lucre shortly after the affair recorded in the foregoing chapter, an event came to pass in the burgh that had been for some time foreseen. my old friend and adversary, bailie m'lucre, being now a man well stricken in years, was one night, in going home from a gavawlling with some of the neighbours at mr shuttlethrift's, the manufacturer's, (the bailie, canny man, never liket ony thing of the sort at his own cost and outlay,) having partaken largely of the bowl, for the manufacturer was of a blithe humour--the bailie, as i was saying, in going home, was overtaken by an apoplexy just at the threshold of his own door, and although it did not kill him outright, it shoved him, as it were, almost into the very grave; in so much that he never spoke an articulate word during the several weeks he was permitted to doze away his latter end; and accordingly he died, and was buried in a very creditable manner to the community, in consideration of the long space of time he had been a public man among us. but what rendered the event of his death, in my opinion, the more remarkable, was, that i considered with him the last remnant of the old practice of managing the concerns of the town came to a period. for now that he is dead and gone, and also all those whom i found conjunct with him, when i came into power and office, i may venture to say, that things in yon former times were not guided so thoroughly by the hand of a disinterested integrity as in these latter years. on the contrary, it seemed to be the use and wont of men in public trusts, to think they were free to indemnify themselves in a left-handed way for the time and trouble they bestowed in the same. but the thing was not so far wrong in principle as in the hugger-muggering way in which it was done, and which gave to it a guilty colour, that, by the judicious stratagem of a right system, it would never have had. in sooth to say, through the whole course of my public life, i met with no greater difficulties and trials than in cleansing myself from the old habitudes of office. for i must in verity confess, that i myself partook, in a degree, at my beginning, of the caterpillar nature; and it was not until the light of happier days called forth the wings of my endowment, that i became conscious of being raised into public life for a better purpose than to prey upon the leaves and flourishes of the commonwealth. so that, if i have seemed to speak lightly of those doings that are now denominated corruptions, i hope it was discerned therein that i did so rather to intimate that such things were, than to consider them as in themselves commendable. indeed, in their notations, i have endeavoured, in a manner, to be governed by the spirit of the times in which the transactions happened; for i have lived long enough to remark, that if we judge of past events by present motives, and do not try to enter into the spirit of the age when they took place, and to see them with the eyes with which they were really seen, we shall conceit many things to be of a bad and wicked character that were not thought so harshly of by those who witnessed them, nor even by those who, perhaps, suffered from them. while, therefore, i think it has been of a great advantage to the public to have survived that method of administration in which the like of bailie m'lucre was engendered, i would not have it understood that i think the men who held the public trusts in those days a whit less honest than the men of my own time. the spirit of their own age was upon them, as that of ours is upon us, and their ways of working the wherry entered more or less into all their trafficking, whether for the commonality, or for their own particular behoof and advantage. i have been thus large and frank in my reflections anent the death of the bailie, because, poor man, he had outlived the times for which he was qualified; and, instead of the merriment and jocularity that his wily by- hand ways used to cause among his neighbours, the rising generation began to pick and dab at him, in such a manner, that, had he been much longer spared, it is to be feared he would not have been allowed to enjoy his earnings both with ease and honour. however, he got out of the world with some respect, and the matters of which i have now to speak, are exalted, both in method and principle, far above the personal considerations that took something from the public virtue of his day and generation. chapter xxiv--the windy yule it was in the course of the winter, after the decease of bailie m'lucre, that the great loss of lives took place, which every body agreed was one of the most calamitous things that had for many a year befallen the town. three or four vessels were coming with cargoes of grain from ireland; another from the baltic with norawa deals; and a third from bristol, where she had been on a charter for some greenock merchants. it happened that, for a time, there had been contrary winds, against which no vessel could enter the port, and the ships, whereof i have been speaking, were all lying together at anchor in the bay, waiting a change of weather. these five vessels were owned among ourselves, and their crews consisted of fathers and sons belonging to the place, so that, both by reason of interest and affection, a more than ordinary concern was felt for them; for the sea was so rough, that no boat could live in it to go near them, and we had our fears that the men on board would be very ill off. nothing, however, occurred but this natural anxiety, till the saturday, which was yule. in the morning the weather was blasty and sleety, waxing more and more tempestuous till about mid-day, when the wind checked suddenly round from the nor-east to the sou-west, and blew a gale as if the prince of the powers of the air was doing his utmost to work mischief. the rain blattered, the windows clattered, the shop-shutters flapped, pigs from the lum-heads came rattling down like thunder-claps, and the skies were dismal both with cloud and carry. yet, for all that, there was in the streets a stir and a busy visitation between neighbours, and every one went to their high windows, to look at the five poor barks that were warsling against the strong arm of the elements of the storm and the ocean. still the lift gloomed, and the wind roared, and it was as doleful a sight as ever was seen in any town afflicted with calamity, to see the sailors' wives, with their red cloaks about their heads, followed by their hirpling and disconsolate bairns, going one after another to the kirkyard, to look at the vessels where their helpless breadwinners were battling with the tempest. my heart was really sorrowful, and full of a sore anxiety to think of what might happen to the town, whereof so many were in peril, and to whom no human magistracy could extend the arm of protection. seeing no abatement of the wrath of heaven, that howled and roared around us, i put on my big-coat, and taking my staff in my hand, having tied down my hat with a silk handkerchief, towards gloaming i walked likewise to the kirkyard, where i beheld such an assemblage of sorrow, as few men in situation have ever been put to the trial to witness. in the lea of the kirk many hundreds of the town were gathered together; but there was no discourse among them. the major part were sailors' wives and weans, and at every new thud of the blast, a sob rose, and the mothers drew their bairns closer in about them, as if they saw the visible hand of a foe raised to smite them. apart from the multitude, i observed three or four young lasses standing behind the whinnyhill families' tomb, and i jealoused that they had joes in the ships; for they often looked to the bay, with long necks and sad faces, from behind the monument. a widow woman, one old mary weery, that was a lameter, and dependent on her son, who was on board the louping meg, (as the lovely peggy was nicknamed at the shore,) stood by herself, and every now and then wrung her hands, crying, with a woeful voice, "the lord giveth and the lord taketh away, blessed be the name of the lord;"--but it was manifest to all that her faith was fainting within her. but of all the piteous objects there, on that doleful evening, none troubled my thoughts more than three motherless children, that belonged to the mate of one of the vessels in the jeopardy. he was an englishman that had been settled some years in the town, where his family had neither kith nor kin; and his wife having died about a month before, the bairns, of whom the eldest was but nine or so, were friendless enough, though both my gudewife, and other well-disposed ladies, paid them all manner of attention till their father would come home. the three poor little things, knowing that he was in one of the ships, had been often out and anxious, and they were then sitting under the lea of a headstone, near their mother's grave, chittering and creeping closer and closer at every squall. never was such an orphan-like sight seen. when it began to be so dark that the vessels could no longer be discerned from the churchyard, many went down to the shore, and i took the three babies home with me, and mrs pawkie made tea for them, and they soon began to play with our own younger children, in blythe forgetfulness of the storm; every now and then, however, the eldest of them, when the shutters rattled and the lum-head roared, would pause in his innocent daffing, and cower in towards mrs pawkie, as if he was daunted and dismayed by something he knew not what. many a one that night walked the sounding shore in sorrow, and fires were lighted along it to a great extent; but the darkness and the noise of the raging deep, and the howling wind, never intermitted till about midnight: at which time a message was brought to me, that it might be needful to send a guard of soldiers to the beach, for that broken masts and tackle had come in, and that surely some of the barks had perished. i lost no time in obeying this suggestion, which was made to me by one of the owners of the louping meg; and to show that i sincerely sympathized with all those in affliction, i rose and dressed myself, and went down to the shore, where i directed several old boats to be drawn up by the fires, and blankets to be brought, and cordials prepared, for them that might be spared with life to reach the land; and i walked the beach with the mourners till the morning. as the day dawned, the wind began to abate in its violence, and to wear away from the sou-west into the norit, but it was soon discovered that some of the vessels with the corn had perished; for the first thing seen, was a long fringe of tangle and grain along the line of the highwater mark, and every one strained with greedy and grieved eyes, as the daylight brightened, to discover which had suffered. but i can proceed no further with the dismal recital of that doleful morning. let it suffice here to be known, that, through the haze, we at last saw three of the vessels lying on their beam-ends with their masts broken, and the waves riding like the furious horses of destruction over them. what had become of the other two was never known; but it was supposed that they had foundered at their anchors, and that all on board perished. the day being now sabbath, and the whole town idle, every body in a manner was down on the beach, to help and mourn as the bodies, one after another, were cast out by the waves. alas! few were the better of my provident preparation, and it was a thing not to be described, to see, for more than a mile along the coast, the new-made widows and fatherless bairns, mourning and weeping over the corpses of those they loved. seventeen bodies were, before ten o'clock, carried to the desolated dwelling of their families; and when old thomas pull, the betheral, went to ring the bell for public worship, such was the universal sorrow of the town, that nanse donsie, an idiot natural, ran up the street to stop him, crying, in the voice of a pardonable desperation, "wha, in sic a time, can praise the lord?" chapter xxv--the subscription the calamity of the storm opened and disposed the hearts of the whole town to charity; and it was a pleasure to behold the manner in which the tide of sympathy flowed towards the sufferers. nobody went to the church in the forenoon; but when i had returned home from the shore, several of the council met at my house to confer anent the desolation, and it was concerted among us, at my suggestion, that there should be a meeting of the inhabitants called by the magistrates, for the next day, in order to take the public compassion with the tear in the eye--which was accordingly done by mr pittle himself from the pulpit, with a few judicious words on the heavy dispensation. and the number of folk that came forward to subscribe was just wonderful. we got well on to a hundred pounds in the first two hours, besides many a bundle of old clothes. but one of the most remarkable things in the business was done by mr macandoe. he was, in his original, a lad of the place, who had gone into glasgow, where he was in a topping line; and happening to be on a visit to his friends at the time, he came to the meeting and put down his name for twenty guineas, which he gave me in bank-notes--a sum of such liberality as had never been given to the town from one individual man, since the mortification of fifty pounds that we got by the will of major bravery that died in cheltenham, in england, after making his fortune in india. the sum total of the subscription, when we got my lord's five-and-twenty guineas, was better than two hundred pounds sterling--for even several of the country gentlemen were very generous contributors, and it is well known that they are not inordinately charitable, especially to town folks--but the distribution of it was no easy task, for it required a discrimination of character as well as of necessities. it was at first proposed to give it over to the session. i knew, however, that, in their hands, it would do no good; for mr pittle, the minister, was a vain sort of a body, and easy to be fleeched, and the bold and the bardy with him would be sure to come in for a better share than the meek and the modest, who might be in greater want. so i set myself to consider what was the best way of proceeding; and truly upon reflection, there are few events in my history that i look back upon with more satisfaction than the part i performed in this matter; for, before going into any division of the money, i proposed that we should allot it to three classes--those who were destitute; those who had some help, but large families; and those to whom a temporality would be sufficient--and that we should make a visitation to the houses of all the sufferers, in order to class them under their proper heads aright. by this method, and together with what i had done personally in the tempest, i got great praise and laud from all reflecting people; and it is not now to be told what a consolation was brought to many a sorrowful widow and orphan's heart, by the patience and temperance with which the fund of liberality was distributed; yet because a small sum was reserved to help some of the more helpless at another time, and the same was put out to interest in the town's books, there were not wanting evil-minded persons who went about whispering calumnious innuendos to my disadvantage; but i know, by this time, the nature of the world, and how impossible it is to reason with such a seven-headed and ten-horned beast as the multitude. so i said nothing; only i got the town-clerk's young man, who acted as clerk to the committee of the subscription, to make out a fair account of the distribution of the money, and to what intent the residue had been placed in the town-treasurer's hand; and this i sent unto a friend in glasgow to get printed for me, the which he did; and when i got the copies, i directed one to every individual subscriber, and sent the town-drummer an end's errand with them, which was altogether a proceeding of a method and exactness so by common, that it not only quenched the envy of spite utterly out, but contributed more and more to give me weight and authority with the community, until i had the whole sway and mastery of the town. chapter xxvi--of the public lamps death is a great reformer of corporate bodies, and we found, now and then, the benefit of his helping hand in our royal burgh. from the time of my being chosen into the council; and, indeed, for some years before, mr hirple had been a member, but, from some secret and unexpressed understanding among us, he was never made a bailie; for he was not liked; having none of that furthy and jocose spirit so becoming in a magistrate of that degree, and to which the gifts of gravity and formality make but an unsubstantial substitute. he was, on the contrary, a queer and quistical man, of a small stature of body, with an outshot breast, the which, i am inclined to think, was one of the main causes of our never promoting him into the ostensible magistracy; besides, his temper was exceedingly brittle; and in the debates anent the weightiest concerns of the public, he was apt to puff and fiz, and go off with a pluff of anger like a pioye; so that, for the space of more than five-and-twenty years, we would have been glad of his resignation; and, in the heat of argument, there was no lack of hints to that effect from more than one of his friends, especially from bailie picken, who was himself a sharp-tempered individual, and could as ill sit quiet under a contradiction as any man i ever was conjunct with. but just before the close of my second provostry, providence was kind to mr hirple, and removed him gently away from the cares, and troubles, and the vain policy of this contending world, into, as i hope and trust, a far better place. it may seem, hereafter, to the unlearned readers among posterity, particularly to such of them as may happen not to be versed in that state of things which we were obligated to endure, very strange that i should make this special mention of mr hirple at his latter end, seeing and observing the small store and account i have thus set upon his talents and personalities. but the verity of the reason is plainly this: we never discovered his worth and value till we had lost him, or rather, till we found the defect and gap that his death caused, and the affliction that came in through it upon us in the ill-advised selection of mr hickery to fill his vacant place. the spunky nature of mr hirple was certainly very disagreeable often to most of the council, especially when there was any difference of opinion; but then it was only a sort of flash, and at the vote he always, like a reasonable man, sided with the majority, and never after attempted to rip up a decision when it was once so settled. mr hickery was just the even down reverse of this. he never, to be sure, ran himself into a passion, but then he continued to speak and argue so long in reply, never heeding the most rational things of his adversaries, that he was sure to put every other person in a rage; in addition to all which, he was likewise a sorrowful body in never being able to understand how a determination by vote ought to and did put an end to every questionable proceeding; so that he was, for a constancy, ever harping about the last subject discussed, as if it had not been decided, until a new difference of opinion arose, and necessitated him to change the burden and o'ercome of his wearysome speeches. it may seem remarkable that we should have taken such a plague into the council, and be thought that we were well served for our folly; but we were unacquaint with the character of the man--for although a native of the town, he was in truth a stranger, having, at an early age, espoused his fortune, and gone to philadelphia in america; and no doubt his argol- bargolous disposition was an inheritance accumulated with his other conquest of wealth from the mannerless yankees. coming home and settling among us, with a power of money, (some said eleven thousand pounds,) a short time before mr hirple departed this life, we all thought, on that event happening, it would be a very proper compliment to take mr hickery into the council, and accordingly we were so misfortunate as to do so; but i trow we soon had reason to repent our indiscretion, and none more than myself, who had first proposed him. mr hickery having been chosen to supply the void caused by the death of mr hirple, in the very first sederunt of the council after his election, he kithed in his true colours. among other things that i had contemplated for the ornament and edification of the burgh, was the placing up of lamps to light the streets, such as may be seen in all well regulated cities and towns of any degree. having spoken of this patriotic project to several of my colleagues, who all highly approved of the same, i had no jealousy or suspicion that a design so clearly and luminously useful would meet with any other opposition than, may be, some doubt as to the fiscal abilities of our income. to be sure mr dribbles, who at that time kept the head inns, and was in the council, said, with a wink, that it might be found an inconvenience to sober folk that happened, on an occasion now and then, to be an hour later than usual among their friends, either at his house or any other, to be shown by the lamps to the profane populace as they were making the best of their way home; and mr dippings, the candlemaker, with less public spirit than might have been expected from one who made such a penny by the illuminations on news of victory, was of opinion that lamps would only encourage the commonality to keep late hours; and that the gentry were in no need of any thing of the sort, having their own handsome glass lanterns, with two candles in them, garnished and adorned with clippit paper; an equipage which he prophesied would soon wear out of fashion when lamps were once introduced, and the which prediction i have lived to see verified; for certainly, now-a-days, except when some elderly widow lady, or maiden gentlewoman, wanting the help and protection of man, happens to be out at her tea and supper, a tight and snod serving lassie, with a three-cornered glass lantern, is never seen on the causey. but, to return from this digression; saving and excepting the remarks of mr dribbles and mr dippings, and neither of them could be considered as made in a sincere frame of mind, i had no foretaste of any opposition. i was, therefore, but ill prepared for the worrying argument with which mr hickery seized upon the scheme, asserting and maintaining, among other apparatus-like reasoning, that in such a northern climate as that of scotland, and where the twilight was of such long duration, it would be a profligate waste of the public money to employ it on any thing so little required as lamps were in our streets. he had come home from america in the summer time, and i reminded him, that it certainly could never be the intention of the magistrates to light the lamps all the year round; but that in the winter there was a great need of them; for in our northern climate the days were then very short, as he would soon experience, and might probably recollect. but never, surely, was such an endless man created. for, upon this, he immediately rejoined, that the streets would be much more effectually lighted, than by all the lamps i proposed to put up, were the inhabitants ordered to sit with their window-shutters open. i really did not know what answer to make to such a proposal, but i saw it would never do to argue with him; so i held my tongue quietly, and as soon as possible, on a pretence of private business, left the meeting, not a little mortified to find such a contrary spirit had got in among us. after that meeting of the council, i went cannily round to all the other members, and represented to them, one by one, how proper it was that the lamps should be set up, both for a credit to the town, and as a conformity to the fashion of the age in every other place. and i took occasion to descant, at some length, on the untractable nature of mr hickery, and how it would be proper before the next meeting to agree to say nothing when the matter was again brought on the carpet, but just to come to the vote at once. accordingly this was done, but it made no difference to mr hickery; on the contrary, he said, in a vehement manner, that he was sure there must be some corrupt understanding among us, otherwise a matter of such importance could not have been decided by a silent vote; and at every session of the council, till some new matter of difference cast up, he continued cuckooing about the lamp-job, as he called it, till he had sickened every body out of all patience. chapter xxvii--the plainstones the first question that changed the bark of mr hickery, was my proposal for the side plainstones of the high street. in the new paving of the crown of the causey, some years before, the rise in the middle had been levelled to an equality with the side loans, and in disposing of the lamp- posts, it was thought advantageous to place them halfway from the houses and the syvers, between the loans and the crown of the causey, which had the effect at night, of making the people who were wont, in their travels and visitations, to keep the middle of the street, to diverge into the space and path between the lamp-posts and the houses. this, especially in wet weather, was attended with some disadvantages; for the pavement, close to the houses, was not well laid, and there being then no ronns to the houses, at every other place, particularly where the nepus-gables were towards the streets, the rain came gushing in a spout, like as if the windows of heaven were opened. and, in consequence, it began to be freely conversed, that there would be a great comfort in having the sides of the streets paved with flags, like the plainstones of glasgow, and that an obligation should be laid on the landlords, to put up ronns to kepp the rain, and to conduct the water down in pipes by the sides of the houses;--all which furnished mr hickery with fresh topics for his fasherie about the lamps, and was, as he said, proof and demonstration of that most impolitic, corrupt, and short-sighted job, the consequences of which would reach, in the shape of some new tax, every ramification of society;--with divers other american argumentatives to the same effect. however, in process of time, by a judicious handling and the help of an advantageous free grassum, which we got for some of the town lands from mr shuttlethrift the manufacturer, who was desirous to build a villa-house, we got the flagstone part of the project accomplished, and the landlords gradually, of their own free-will, put up the ronns, by which the town has been greatly improved and convenienced. but new occasions call for new laws; the side pavement, concentrating the people, required to be kept cleaner, and in better order, than when the whole width of the street was in use; so that the magistrates were constrained to make regulations concerning the same, and to enact fines and penalties against those who neglected to scrape and wash the plainstones forenent their houses, and to denounce, in the strictest terms, the emptying of improper utensils on the same; and this, until the people had grown into the habitude of attending to the rules, gave rise to many pleas, and contentious appeals and bickerings, before the magistrates. among others summoned before me for default, was one mrs fenton, commonly called the tappit-hen, who kept a small change-house, not of the best repute, being frequented by young men, of a station of life that gave her heart and countenance to be bardy, even to the bailies. it happened that, by some inattention, she had, one frosty morning, neglected to soop her flags, and old miss peggy dainty being early afoot, in passing her door committed a false step, by treading on a bit of a lemon's skin, and her heels flying up, down she fell on her back, at full length, with a great cloyt. mrs fenton, hearing the accident, came running to the door, and seeing the exposure that perjink miss peggy had made of herself, put her hands to her sides, and laughed for some time as if she was by herself. miss peggy, being sorely hurt in the hinder parts, summoned mrs fenton before me, where the whole affair, both as to what was seen and heard, was so described, with name and surname, that i could not keep my composure. it was, however, made manifest, that mrs fenton had offended the law, in so much, as her flags had not been swept that morning; and therefore, to appease the offended delicacy of miss peggy, who was a most respectable lady in single life, i fined the delinquent five shillings. "mr pawkie," said the latheron, "i'll no pay't. whar do ye expeck a widow woman like me can get five shillings for ony sic nonsense?" "ye must not speak in that manner, honest woman," was my reply; "but just pay the fine." "in deed and truth, mr pawkie," quo she, "it's ill getting a breek off a highlandman. i'll pay no sic thing--five shillings--that's a story!" i thought i would have been constrained to send her to prison, the woman grew so bold and contumacious, when mr hickery came in, and hearing what was going forward, was evidently working himself up to take the randy's part; but fortunately she had a suspicion that all the town-council and magistrates were in league against her, on account of the repute of her house, so that when he enquired of her where she lived, with a view, as i suspect, of interceding, she turned to him, and with a leer and a laugh, said, "dear me, mr hickery, i'm sure ye hae nae need to speer that!" the insinuation set up his birses; but she bamboozled him with her banter, and raised such a laugh against him, that he was fairly driven from the council room, and i was myself obliged to let her go, without exacting the fine. who would have thought that this affair was to prove to me the means of an easy riddance of mr hickery? but so it turned out; for whether or not there was any foundation for the traffickings with him which she pretended, he never could abide to hear the story alluded to, which, when i discerned, i took care, whenever he showed any sort of inclination to molest the council with his propugnacity, to joke him about his bonny sweetheart, "the tappit-hen," and he instantly sang dumb, and quietly slipped away; by which it may be seen how curiously events come to pass, since, out of the very first cause of his thwarting me in the lamps, i found, in process of time, a way of silencing him far better than any sort of truth or reason. chapter xxviii--the second crop of volunteers i have already related, at full length, many of the particulars anent the electing of the first set of volunteers; the which, by being germinated partly under the old system of public intromission, was done with more management and slight of art than the second. this, however, i will ever maintain, was not owing to any greater spirit of corruption; but only and solely to following the ancient dexterous ways, that had been, in a manner, engrained with the very nature of every thing pertaining to the representation of government as it existed, not merely in burgh towns, but wheresoever the crown and ministers found it expedient to have their lion's paw. matters were brought to a bearing differently, when, in the second edition of the late war, it was thought necessary to call on the people to resist the rampageous ambition of bonaparte, then champing and trampling for the rich pastures of our national commonwealth. accordingly, i kept myself aloof from all handling in the pecuniaries of the business; but i lent a friendly countenance to every feasible project that was likely to strengthen the confidence of the king in the loyalty and bravery of his people. for by this time i had learnt, that there was a wake-rife common sense abroad among the opinions of men; and that the secret of the new way of ruling the world was to follow, not to control, the evident dictates of the popular voice; and i soon had reason to felicitate myself on this prudent and seasonable discovery. for it won me great reverence among the forward young men, who started up at the call of their country; and their demeanour towards me was as tokens and arles, from the rising generation, of being continued in respect and authority by them. some of my colleagues, who are as well not named, by making themselves over busy, got but small thank for their pains. i was even preferred to the provost, as the medium of communicating the sentiments of the volunteering lads to the lord-lieutenant; and their cause did not suffer in my hands, for his lordship had long been in the habit of considering me as one of the discreetest men in the burgh; and although he returned very civil answers to all letters, he wrote to me in the cordial erudition of an old friend--a thing which the volunteers soon discerned, and respected me accordingly. but the soldiering zeal being spontaneous among all ranks, and breaking forth into ablaze without any pre-ordered method, some of the magistrates were disconcerted, and wist not what to do. i'll no take it upon me to say that they were altogether guided by a desire to have a finger in the pie, either in the shape of the honours of command or the profits of contract. this, however, is certain, that they either felt or feigned a great alarm and consternation at seeing such a vast military power in civil hands, over which they had no natural control; and, as was said, independent of the crown and parliament. another thing there could be no doubt of: in the frame of this fear they remonstrated with the government, and counselled the ministers to throw a wet blanket on the ardour of the volunteering, which, it is well known, was very readily done; for the ministers, on seeing such a pressing forward to join the banners of the kingdom, had a dread and regard to the old leaven of jacobinism, and put a limitation on the number of the armed men that were to be allowed to rise in every place--a most ill-advised prudence, as was made manifest by what happened among us, of which i will now rehearse the particulars, and the part i had in it myself. as soon as it was understood among the commonality that the french were determined to subdue and make a conquest of britain, as they had done of all the rest of europe, holding the noses of every continental king and potentate to the grindstone, there was a prodigious stir and motion in all the hearts and pulses of scotland, and no where in a more vehement degree than in gudetown. but, for some reason or an other which i could never dive into the bottom of, there was a slackness or backwardness on the part of government in sending instructions to the magistrates to step forward; in so much that the people grew terrified that they would be conquered, without having even an opportunity to defend, as their fathers did of old, the hallowed things of their native land; and, under the sense of this alarm, they knotted themselves together, and actually drew out proposals and resolutions of service of their own accord; by which means they kept the power of choosing their officers in their own hands, and so gave many of the big-wigs of the town a tacit intimation that they were not likely to have the command. while things were in this process, the government had come to its senses; and some steps and measures were taken to organize volunteer corps throughout the nation. taking heart from them, other corps were proposed on the part of the gentry, in which they were themselves to have the command; and seeing that the numbers were to be limited, they had a wish and interest to keep back the real volunteer offers, and to get their own accepted in their stead. a suspicion of this sort getting vent, an outcry of discontent thereat arose against them; and to the consternation of the magistrates, the young lads, who had at the first come so briskly forward, called a meeting of their body, and, requesting the magistrates to be present, demanded to know what steps had been taken with their offer of service; and, if transmitted to government, what answer had been received. this was a new era in public affairs; and no little amazement and anger was expressed by some of the town-council, that any set of persons should dare to question and interfere with the magistrates. but i saw it would never do to take the bull by the horns in that manner at such a time; so i commenced with bailie sprose, my lord being at the time provost, and earnestly beseeched him to attend the meeting with me, and to give a mild answer to any questions that might be put; and this was the more necessary, as there was some good reason to believe, that, in point of fact, the offer of service had been kept back. we accordingly went to the meeting, where mr sprose, at my suggestion, stated, that we had received no answer; and that we could not explain how the delay had arisen. this, however, did not pacify the volunteers; but they appointed certain of their own number, a committee, to attend to the business, and to communicate with the secretary of state direct; intimating, that the members of the committee were those whom they intended to elect for their officers. this was a decisive step, and took the business entirely out of the hands of the magistrates; so, after the meeting, both mr sprose and myself agreed, that no time should be lost in communicating to the lord-lieutenant what had taken place. our letter, and the volunteers' letter, went by the same post; and on receiving ours, the lord-lieutenant had immediately some conference with the secretary of state, who, falling into the views of his lordship, in preferring the offers of the corps proposed by the gentry, sent the volunteers word in reply, that their services, on the terms they had proposed, which were of the least possible expense to government, could not be accepted. it was hoped that this answer would have ended the matter; but there were certain propugnacious spirits in the volunteers' committee; and they urged and persuaded the others to come into resolutions, to the effect that, having made early offers of service, on terms less objectionable in every point than those of many offers subsequently made and accepted, unless their offer was accepted, they would consider themselves as having the authority of his majesty's government to believe and to represent, that there was, in truth, no reason to apprehend that the enemy meditated any invasion and these resolutions they sent off to london forthwith, before the magistrates had time to hear or to remonstrate against the use of such novel language from our burgh to his majesty's ministers. we, however, heard something; and i wrote my lord, to inform him that the volunteers had renewed their offer, (for so we understood their representation was;) and he, from what he had heard before from the secretary of state, not expecting the effect it would have, answered me, that their offer could not be accepted. but to our astonishment, by the same post, the volunteers found themselves accepted, and the gentlemen they recommended for their officers gazetted; the which, as i tell frankly, was an admonition to me, that the peremptory will of authority was no longer sufficient for the rule of mankind; and, therefore, i squared my after conduct more by a deference to public opinion, than by any laid down maxims and principles of my own; the consequence of which was, that my influence still continued to grow and gather strength in the community, and i was enabled to accomplish many things that my predecessors would have thought it was almost beyond the compass of man to undertake. chapter xxix--captain armour in the course of these notandums, i have, here and there, touched on divers matters that did not actually pertain to my own magisterial life, further than as showing the temper and spirit in which different things were brought to a bearing; and, in the same way, i will now again step aside from the regular course of public affairs, to record an occurrence which, at the time, excited no small wonderment and sympathy, and in which it was confessed by many that i performed a very judicious part. the event here spoken of, was the quartering in the town, after the removal of that well-behaved regiment, the argyle fencibles, the main part of another, the name and number of which i do not now recollect; but it was an english corps, and, like the other troops of that nation, was not then brought into the sobriety of discipline to which the whole british army has since been reduced, by the paternal perseverance of his royal highness the duke of york; so that, after the douce and respectful highlanders, we sorely felt the consequences of the outstropolous and galravitching englishers, who thought it no disgrace to fill themselves as fou as pipers, and fight in the streets, and march to the church on the lord's day with their band of music. however, after the first sunday, upon a remonstrance on the immorality of such irreligious bravery, colonel cavendish, the commandant, silenced the musicians. among the officers, there was one captain armour, an extraordinar well demeaned, handsome man, who was very shy of accepting any civility from the town gentry, and kept himself aloof from all our ploys and entertainments, in such a manner, that the rest of the officers talked of him, marvelling at the cause, for it was not his wont in other places. one sabbath, during the remembering prayer, mr pittle put up a few words for criminals under sentence of death, there being two at the time in the ayr jail, at the which petition i happened to look at captain armour, who, with the lave of the officers, were within the magistrates' loft, and i thought he had, at the moment, a likeness to poor jeanie gaisling, that was executed for the murder of her bastard bairn. this notion at the time disturbed me very much, and one thought after another so came into my head, that i could pay no attention to mr pittle, who certainly was but a cauldrife preacher, and never more so than on that day. in short, i was haunted with the fancy, that captain armour was no other than the misfortunate lassie's poor brother, who had in so pathetical a manner attended her and the magistrates to the scaffold; and, what was very strange, i was not the only one in the kirk who thought the same thing; for the resemblance, while mr pittle was praying, had been observed by many; and it was the subject of discourse in my shop on the monday following, when the whole history of that most sorrowful concern was again brought to mind. but, without dwelling at large on the particularities, i need only mention, that it began to be publicly jealoused that he was indeed the identical lad, which moved every body; for he was a very good and gallant officer, having risen by his own merits, and was likewise much beloved in the regiment. nevertheless, though his sister's sin was no fault of his, and could not impair the worth of his well-earned character, yet some of the thoughtless young ensigns began to draw off from him, and he was visited, in a manner, with the disgrace of an excommunication. being, however, a sensible man, he bore it for a while patiently, may be hoping that the suspicion would wear away; but my lord, with all his retinue, coming from london to the castle for the summer, invited the officers one day to dine with him and the countess, when the fact was established by a very simple accident. captain armour, in going up the stairs, and along the crooked old passages of the castle, happened to notice that the colonel, who was in the van, turned to the wrong hand, and called to him to take the other way, which circumstance convinced all present that he was domestically familiar with the labyrinths of the building; and the consequence was, that, during dinner, not one of the officers spoke to him, some from embarrassment and others from pride. the earl perceiving their demeanour, enquired of the colonel, when they had returned from the table to the drawing-room, as to the cause of such a visible alienation, and colonel cavendish, who was much of the gentleman, explaining it, expressing his grief that so unpleasant a discovery had been made to the prejudice of so worthy a man, my lord was observed to stand some time in a thoughtful posture, after which he went and spoke in a whisper to the countess, who advised him, as her ladyship in the sequel told me herself, to send for me, as a wary and prudent man. accordingly a servant was secretly dispatched express to the town on that errand; my lord and my lady insisting on the officers staying to spend the evening with them, which was an unusual civility at the _pro forma_ dinners at the castle. when i arrived, the earl took me into his private library, and we had some serious conversation about the captain's sister; and, when i had related the circumstantialities of her end to him, he sent for the captain, and with great tenderness, and a manner most kind and gracious, told him what he had noticed in the conduct of the officers, offering his mediation to appease any difference, if it was a thing that could be done. while my lord was speaking, the captain preserved a steady and unmoved countenance: no one could have imagined that he was listening to any thing but some grave generality of discourse; but when the earl offered to mediate, his breast swelled, and his face grew like his coat, and i saw his eyes fill with water as he turned round, to hide the grief that could not be stifled. the passion of shame, however, lasted but for a moment. in less time than i am in writing these heads, he was again himself, and with a modest fortitude that was exceedingly comely, he acknowledged who he was, adding, that he feared his blameless disgrace entailed effects which he could not hope to remove, and therefore it was his intention to resign his commission. the earl, however, requested that he would do nothing rashly, and that he should first allow him to try what could be done to convince his brother officers that it was unworthy of them to act towards him in the way they did. his lordship then led us to the drawing-room, on entering which, he said aloud to the countess in a manner that could not be misunderstood, "in captain armour i have discovered an old acquaintance, who by his own merits, and under circumstances that would have sunk any man less conscious of his own purity and worth, has raised himself, from having once been my servant, to a rank that makes me happy to receive him as my guest." i need not add, that this benevolence of his lordship was followed with a most bountiful alteration towards the captain from all present, in so much that, before the regiment was removed from the town, we had the satisfaction of seeing him at divers of the town-ploys, where he received every civility. chapter xxx--the trades' ball at the conclusion of my second provostry, or rather, as i think, after it was over, an accident happened in the town that might have led to no little trouble and contention but for the way and manner that i managed the same. my friend and neighbour, mr kilsyth, an ettling man, who had been wonderful prosperous in the spirit line, having been taken on for a bailie, by virtue of some able handling on the part of deacon kenitweel, proposed and propounded, that there should be a ball and supper for the trades; and to testify his sense of the honour that he owed to all the crafts, especially the wrights, whereof mr kenitweel was then deacon, he promised to send in both wine, rum, and brandy, from his cellar, for the company. i did not much approve of the project, for divers reasons; the principal of which was, because my daughters were grown into young ladies, and i was, thank god, in a circumstance to entitle them to hold their heads something above the trades. however, i could not positively refuse my compliance, especially as mrs pawkie was requested by bailie kilsyth, and those who took an active part in furtherance of the ploy, to be the lady directress of the occasion. and, out of an honour and homage to myself, i was likewise entreated to preside at the head of the table, over the supper that was to ensue after the dancing. in its own nature, there was surely nothing of an objectionable principle, in a "trades' ball;" but we had several young men of the gentle sort about the town, blythe and rattling lads, who were welcome both to high and low, and to whom the project seemed worthy of a ridicule. it would, as i said at the time, have been just as well to have made it really a trades' ball, without any adulteration of the gentry; but the hempies alluded to jouked themselves in upon us, and obligated the managers to invite them; and an ill return they made for this discretion and civility, as i have to relate. on the nightset for the occasion, the company met in the assembly-room, in the new-inns, where we had bespoke a light genteel supper, and had m'lachlan, the fiddler, over from ayr, for the purpose. nothing could be better while the dancing lasted; the whole concern wore an appearance of the greatest genteelity. but when supper was announced, and the company adjourned to partake of it, judge of the universal consternation that was visible in every countenance, when, instead of the light tarts, and nice jellies and sillybobs that were expected, we beheld a long table, with a row down the middle of rounds of beef, large cold veal-pies on pewter plates like tea-trays, cold boiled turkeys, and beef and bacon hams, and, for ornament in the middle, a perfect stack of celery. the instant i entered the supper-room, i saw there had been a plot: poor bailie kilsyth, who had all the night been in triumph and glory, was for a season speechless; and when at last he came to himself, he was like to have been the death of the landlord on the spot; while i could remark, with the tail of my eye, that secret looks of a queer satisfaction were exchanged among the beaux before mentioned. this observe, when i made it, led me to go up to the bailie as he was storming at the bribed and corrupt innkeeper, and to say to him, that if he would leave the matter to me, i would settle it to the content of all present; which he, slackening the grip he had taken of the landlord by the throat, instantly conceded. whereupon, i went back to the head of the table, and said aloud, "that the cold collection had been provided by some secret friends, and although it was not just what the directors could have wished, yet it would be as well to bring to mind the old proverb, which instructs us no to be particular about the mouth of a gi'en horse." but i added, "before partaking thereof, wel'll hae in our bill frae the landlord, and settle it,"--and it was called accordingly. i could discern, that this was a turn that the conspirators did not look for. it, however, put the company a thought into spirits, and they made the best o't. but, while they were busy at the table, i took a canny opportunity of saying, under the rose to one of the gentlemen, "that i saw through the joke, and could relish it just as well as the plotters; but as the thing was so plainly felt as an insult by the generality of the company, the less that was said about it the better; and that if the whole bill, including the cost of bailie kilsyth's wine and spirits, was defrayed, i would make no enquiries, and the authors might never be known." this admonishment was not lost, for by-and-by, i saw the gentleman confabbing together; and the next morning, through the post, i received a twenty- pound note in a nameless letter, requesting the amount of it to be placed against the expense of the ball. i was overly well satisfied with this to say a great deal of what i thought, but i took a quiet step to the bank, where, expressing some doubt of the goodness of the note, i was informed it was perfectly good, and had been that very day issued from the bank to one of the gentlemen, whom, even at this day, it would not be prudent to expose to danger by naming. upon a consultation with the other gentlemen, who had the management of the ball, it was agreed, that we should say nothing of the gift of twenty pounds, but distribute it in the winter to needful families, which was done; for we feared that the authors of the derision would be found out, and that ill-blood might be bred in the town. chapter xxxi--the bailie's head but although in the main i was considered by the events and transactions already rehearsed, a prudent and sagacious man, yet i was not free from the consequences of envy. to be sure, they were not manifested in any very intolerant spirit, and in so far they caused me rather molestation of mind than actual suffering; but still they kithed in evil, and thereby marred the full satisfactory fruition of my labours and devices. among other of the outbreakings alluded to that not a little vexed me, was one that i will relate, and just in order here to show the animus of men's minds towards me. we had in the town a clever lad, with a geni of a mechanical turn, who made punch-bowls of leather, and legs for cripples of the same commodity, that were lighter and easier to wear than either legs of cork or timber. his name was geordie sooplejoint, a modest, douce, and well-behaved young man--caring for little else but the perfecting of his art. i had heard of his talent, and was curious to converse with him; so i spoke to bailie pirlet, who had taken him by the hand, to bring him and his leather punch- bowl, and some of his curious legs and arms, to let me see them; the which the bailie did, and it happened that while they were with me, in came mr thomas m'queerie, a dry neighbour at a joke. after some generality of discourse concerning the inventions, whereon bailie pirlet, who was naturally a gabby prick-me-dainty body, enlarged at great length, with all his well dockit words, as if they were on chandler's pins, pointing out here the utility of the legs to persons maimed in the wars of their country, and showing forth there in what manner the punch-bowls were specimens of a new art that might in time supplant both china and staffordshire ware, and deducing therefrom the benefits that would come out of it to the country at large, and especially to the landed interest, in so much as the increased demand which it would cause for leather, would raise the value of hides, and per consequence the price of black cattle--to all which mr m'queerie listened with a shrewd and a thirsty ear; and when the bailie had made an end of his paternoster, he proposed that i should make a filling of geordie's bowl, to try if it did not leak. "indeed, mr pawkie," quo' he, "it will be a great credit to our town to hae had the merit o' producing sic a clever lad, who, as the bailie has in a manner demonstrated, is ordained to bring about an augmentation o' trade by his punch-bowls, little short of what has been done wi' the steam-engines. geordie will be to us what james watt is to the ettling town of greenook, so we can do no less than drink prosperity to his endeavours." i did not much like this bantering of mr m'queerie, for i saw it made geordie's face grow red, and it was not what he had deserved; so to repress it, and to encourage the poor lad, i said, "come, come, neighbour, none of your wipes--what geordie has done, is but arles of what he may do." "that's no to be debated," replied mr m'queerie, "for he has shown already that he can make very good legs and arms; and i'm sure i shouldna be surprised were he in time to make heads as good as a bailie's." i never saw any mortal man look as that pernickity personage, the bailie, did at this joke, but i suppressed my own feelings; while the bailie, like a bantam cock in a passion, stotted out of his chair with the spunk of a birslet pea, demanding of mr m'queerie an explanation of what he meant by the insinuation. it was with great difficulty that i got him pacified; but unfortunately the joke was oure good to be forgotten, and when it was afterwards spread abroad, as it happened to take its birth in my house, it was laid to my charge, and many a time was i obligated to tell all about it, and how it couldna be meant for me, but had been incurred by bailie pirlet's conceit of spinning out long perjink speeches. chapter xxxii--the town drummer nor did i get every thing my own way, for i was often thwarted in matters of small account, and suffered from them greater disturbance and molestation than things of such little moment ought to have been allowed to produce within me; and i do not think that any thing happened in the whole course of my public life, which gave me more vexation than what i felt in the last week of my second provostry. for many a year, one robin boss had been town drummer; he was a relic of some american-war fencibles, and was, to say the god's truth of him, a divor body, with no manner of conduct, saving a very earnest endeavour to fill himself fou as often as he could get the means; the consequence of which was, that his face was as plooky as a curran' bun, and his nose as red as a partan's tae. one afternoon there was a need to send out a proclamation to abolish a practice that was growing into a custom, in some of the bye parts of the town, of keeping swine at large--ordering them to be confined in proper styes, and other suitable places. as on all occasions when the matter to be proclaimed was from the magistrates, thomas, on this, was attended by the town-officers in their sunday garbs, and with their halberts in their hands; but the abominable and irreverent creature was so drunk, that he wamblet to and fro over the drum, as if there had not been a bane in his body. he was seemingly as soople and as senseless as a bolster.--still, as this was no new thing with him, it might have passed; for james hound, the senior officer, was in the practice, when robin was in that state, of reading the proclamations himself.--on this occasion, however, james happened to be absent on some hue and cry quest, and another of the officers (i forget which) was appointed to perform for him. robin, accustomed to james, no sooner heard the other man begin to read, than he began to curse and swear at him as an incapable nincompoop--an impertinent term that he was much addicted to. the grammar school was at the time skailing, and the boys seeing the stramash, gathered round the officer, and yelling and shouting, encouraged robin more and more into rebellion, till at last they worked up his corruption to such a pitch, that he took the drum from about his neck, and made it fly like a bombshell at the officer's head. the officers behaved very well, for they dragged robin by the lug and the horn to the tolbooth, and then came with their complaint to me. seeing how the authorities had been set at nought, and the necessity there was of making an example, i forthwith ordered robin to be cashiered from the service of the town; and as so important a concern as a proclamation ought not to be delayed, i likewise, upon the spot, ordered the officers to take a lad that had been also a drummer in a marching regiment, and go with him to make the proclamation. nothing could be done in a more earnest and zealous public spirit than this was done by me. but habit had begot in the town a partiality for the drunken ne'er-do-well, robin; and this just act of mine was immediately condemned as a daring stretch of arbitrary power; and the consequence was, that when the council met next day, some sharp words flew from among us, as to my usurping an undue authority; and the thank i got for my pains was the mortification to see the worthless body restored to full power and dignity, with no other reward than an admonition to behave better for the future. now, i leave it to the unbiassed judgment of posterity to determine if any public man could be more ungraciously treated by his colleagues than i was on this occasion. but, verily, the council had their reward. chapter xxxiii--an alarm the divor, robin boss, being, as i have recorded, reinstated in office, soon began to play his old tricks. in the course of the week after the michaelmas term at which my second provostry ended, he was so insupportably drunk that he fell head foremost into his drum, which cost the town five-and-twenty shillings for a new one--an accident that was not without some satisfaction to me; and i trow i was not sparing in my derisive commendations on the worth of such a public officer. nevertheless, he was still kept on, some befriending him for compassion, and others as it were to spite me. but robin's good behaviour did not end with breaking the drum, and costing a new one.--in the course of the winter it was his custom to beat, "go to bed, tom," about ten o'clock at night, and the reveille at five in the morning.--in one of his drunken fits he made a mistake, and instead of going his rounds as usual at ten o'clock, he had fallen asleep in a change house, and waking about the midnight hour in the terror of some whisky dream, he seized his drum, and running into the streets, began to strike the fire-beat in the most awful manner. it was a fine clear frosty moonlight, and the hollow sound of the drum resounded through the silent streets like thunder.--in a moment every body was a-foot, and the cry of "whar is't? whar's the fire?" was heard echoing from all sides.--robin, quite unconscious that he alone was the cause of the alarm, still went along beating the dreadful summons. i heard the noise and rose; but while i was drawing on my stockings, in the chair at the bed-head, and telling mrs pawkie to compose herself, for our houses were all insured, i suddenly recollected that robin had the night before neglected to go his rounds at ten o'clock as usual, and the thought came into my head that the alarm might be one of his inebriated mistakes; so, instead of dressing myself any further, i went to the window, and looked out through the glass, without opening it, for, being in my night clothes, i was afraid of taking cold. the street was as throng as on a market day, and every face in the moonlight was pale with fear.--men and lads were running with their coats, and carrying their breeches in their hands; wives and maidens were all asking questions at one another, and even lasses were fleeing to and fro, like water nymphs with urns, having stoups and pails in their hands.--there was swearing and tearing of men, hoarse with the rage of impatience, at the tolbooth, getting out the fire-engine from its stance under the stair; and loud and terrible afar off, and over all, came the peal of alarm from drunken robin's drum. i could scarcely keep my composity when i beheld and heard all this, for i was soon thoroughly persuaded of the fact. at last i saw deacon girdwood, the chief advocate and champion of robin, passing down the causey like a demented man, with a red nightcap, and his big-coat on--for some had cried that the fire was in his yard.--"deacon," cried i, opening the window, forgetting in the jocularity of the moment the risk i ran from being so naked, "whar away sae fast, deacon?" the deacon stopped and said, "is't out? is't out?" "gang your ways home," quo' i very coolly, "for i hae a notion that a' this hobleshow's but the fume of a gill in your friend robin's head." "it's no possible!" exclaimed the deacon. "possible here or possible there, mr girdwood," quo' i, "it's oure cauld for me to stand talking wi' you here; we'll learn the rights o't in the morning; so, good-night;" and with that i pulled down the window. but scarcely had i done so, when a shout of laughter came gathering up the street, and soon after poor drunken robin was brought along by the cuff of the neck, between two of the town-officers, one of them carrying his drum. the next day he was put out of office for ever, and folk recollecting in what manner i had acted towards him before, the outcry about my arbitrary power was forgotten in the blame that was heaped upon those who had espoused robin's cause against me. chapter xxxiv--the country gentry for a long period of time, i had observed that there was a gradual mixing in of the country gentry among the town's folks. this was partly to be ascribed to a necessity rising out of the french revolution, whereby men of substance thought it an expedient policy to relax in their ancient maxims of family pride and consequence; and partly to the great increase and growth of wealth which the influx of trade caused throughout the kingdom, whereby the merchants were enabled to vie and ostentate even with the better sort of lairds. the effect of this, however, was less protuberant in our town than in many others which i might well name, and the cause thereof lay mainly in our being more given to deal in the small way; not that we lacked of traders possessed both of purse and perseverance; but we did not exactly lie in the thoroughfare of those mighty masses of foreign commodities, the throughgoing of which left, to use the words of the old proverb, "goud in goupins" with all who had the handling of the same. nevertheless, we came in for our share of the condescensions of the country gentry; and although there was nothing like a melting down of them among us, either by marrying or giving in marriage, there was a communion that gave us some insight, no overly to their advantage, as to the extent and measure of their capacities and talents. in short, we discovered that they were vessels made of ordinary human clay; so that, instead of our reverence for them being augmented by a freer intercourse, we thought less and less of them, until, poor bodies, the bit prideful lairdies were just looked down upon by our gawsie big-bellied burgesses, not a few of whom had heritable bonds on their estates. but in this i am speaking of the change when it had come to a full head; for in verity it must be allowed that when the country gentry, with their families, began to intromit among us, we could not make enough of them. indeed, we were deaved about the affability of old crabbit bodle of bodletonbrae, and his sister, miss jenny, when they favoured us with their company at the first inspection ball. i'll ne'er forgot that occasion; for being then in my second provostry, i had, in course of nature, been appointed a deputy lord-lieutenant, and the town- council entertaining the inspecting officers, and the officers of the volunteers, it fell as a duty incumbent on me to be the director of the ball afterwards, and to the which i sent an invitation to the laird and his sister little hoping or expecting they would come. but the laird, likewise being a deputy lord-lieutenant, he accepted the invitation, and came with his sister in all the state of pedigree in their power. such a prodigy of old-fashioned grandeur as miss jenny was!--but neither shop nor mantuamaker of our day and generation had been the better o't. she was just, as some of the young lasses said, like clarissa harlowe, in the cuts and copperplates of mrs rickerton's set of the book, and an older and more curious set than mrs rickerton's was not in the whole town; indeed, for that matter, i believe it was the only one among us, and it had edified, as mr binder the bookseller used to say, at least three successive generations of young ladies, for he had himself given it twice new covers. we had, however, not then any circulating library. but for all her antiquity and lappets, it is not to be supposed what respect and deference miss jenny and her brother, the laird, received--nor the small praise that came to my share, for having had the spirit to invite them. the ball was spoken of as the genteelest in the memory of man, although to my certain knowledge, on account of the volunteers, some were there that never thought to mess or mell in the same chamber with bodletonbrae and his sister, miss jenny. chapter xxxv--tests of success intending these notations for the instruction of posterity, it would not be altogether becoming of me to speak of the domestic effects which many of the things that i have herein jotted down had in my own family. i feel myself, however, constrained in spirit to lift aside a small bit of the private curtain, just to show how mrs pawkie comported herself in the progressive vicissitudes of our prosperity, in the act and doing of which i do not wish to throw any slight on her feminine qualities; for, to speak of her as she deserves at my hand, she has been a most excellent wife, and a decent woman, and had aye a ruth and ready hand for the needful. still, to say the truth, she is not without a few little weaknesses like her neighbours, and the ill-less vanity of being thought far ben with the great is among others of her harmless frailities. soon after the inspection ball before spoken of, she said to me that it would be a great benefit and advantage to our family if we could get bodletonbrae and his sister, and some of the other country gentry, to dine with us. i was not very clear about how the benefit was to come to book, for the outlay i thought as likely o'ergang the profit; at the same time, not wishing to baulk mrs pawkie of a ploy on which i saw her mind was bent, i gave my consent to her and my daughters to send out the cards, and make the necessary preparations. but herein i should not take credit to myself for more of the virtue of humility than was my due; therefore i open the door of my secret heart so far ajee, as to let the reader discern that i was content to hear our invitations were all accepted. of the specialities and dainties of the banquet prepared, it is not fitting that i should treat in any more particular manner, than to say they were the best that could be had, and that our guests were all mightily well pleased. indeed, my wife was out of the body with exultation when mrs auchans of that ilk begged that she would let her have a copy of the directions she had followed in making a flummery, which the whole company declared was most excellent. this compliment was the more pleasant, as lady auchans was well known for her skill in savoury contrivances, and to have anything new to her of the sort was a triumph beyond our most sanguine expectations. in a word, from that day we found that we had taken, as it were, a step above the common in the town. there were, no doubt, some who envied our good fortune; but, upon the whole, the community at large were pleased to see the consideration in which their chief magistrate was held. it reflected down, as it were, upon themselves a glaik of the sunshine that shone upon us; and although it may be a light thing, as it is seemingly a vain one, to me to say, i am now pretty much of mrs pawkie's opinion, that our cultivation of an intercourse with the country gentry was, in the end, a benefit to our family, in so far as it obtained, both for my sons and daughters, a degree of countenance that otherwise could hardly have been expected from their connexions and fortune, even though i had been twice provost. chapter xxxvi--retribution but a sad accident shortly after happened, which had the effect of making it as little pleasant to me to vex mr hickery with a joke about the tappit-hen, as it was to him. widow fenton, as i have soberly hinted; for it is not a subject to be openly spoken of, had many ill-assorted and irregular characters among her customers; and a gang of play-actors coming to the town, and getting leave to perform in mr dribble's barn, batches of the young lads, both gentle and semple, when the play was over, used to adjourn to her house for pies and porter, the commodities in which she chiefly dealt. one night, when the deep tragedy of mary queen of scots was the play, there was a great concourse of people at "the theatre royal," and the consequence was, that the tappit-hen's house, both but and ben, was, at the conclusion, filled to overflowing. the actress that played queen elizabeth, was a little-worth termagant woman, and, in addition to other laxities of conduct, was addicted to the immorality of taking more than did her good, and when in her cups, she would rant and ring fiercer than old queen elizabeth ever could do herself. queen mary's part was done by a bonny genty young lady, that was said to have run away from a boarding-school, and, by all accounts, she acted wonderful well. but she too was not altogether without a flaw, so that there was a division in the town between their admirers and visiters; some maintaining, as i was told, that mrs beaufort, if she would keep herself sober, was not only a finer woman, but more of a lady, and a better actress, than miss scarborough, while others considered her as a vulgar regimental virago. the play of mary queen of scots, causing a great congregation of the rival partizans of the two ladies to meet in the tappit-hen's public, some contention took place about the merits of their respective favourites, and, from less to more, hands were raised, and blows given, and the trades'-lads, being as hot in their differences as the gentlemen, a dreadful riot ensued. gillstoups, porter bottles, and penny pies flew like balls and bomb-shells in battle. mrs fenton, with her mutch off, and her hair loose, with wide and wild arms, like a witch in a whirlwind, was seen trying to sunder the challengers, and the champions. finding, however, her endeavours unavailing, and fearing that murder would be committed, she ran like desperation into the streets, crying for help. i was just at the time stepping into my bed, when i heard the uproar, and, dressing myself again, i went out to the street; for the sound and din of the riot came raging through the silence of the midnight, like the tearing and swearing of the multitude at a house on fire, and i thought no less an accident could be the cause. on going into the street, i met several persons running to the scene of action, and, among others, mrs beaufort, with a gallant of her own, and both of them no in their sober senses. it's no for me to say who he was; but assuredly, had the woman no been doited with drink, she never would have seen any likeness between him and me, for he was more than twenty years my junior. however, onward we all ran to mrs fenton's house, where the riot, like a raging caldron boiling o'er, had overflowed into the street. the moment i reached the door, i ran forward with my stick raised, but not with any design of striking man, woman, or child, when a ramplor devil, the young laird of swinton, who was one of the most outstrapolous rakes about the town, wrenched it out of my grip, and would have, i dare say, made no scruple of doing me some dreadful bodily harm, when suddenly i found myself pulled out of the crowd by a powerful-handed woman, who cried, "come, my love; love, come:" and who was this but that scarlet strumpet, mrs beaufort, who having lost her gallant in the crowd, and being, as i think, blind fou, had taken me for him, insisting before all present that i was her dear friend, and that she would die for me--with other siclike fantastical and randy ranting, which no queen in a tragedy could by any possibility surpass. at first i was confounded and overtaken, and could not speak; and the worst of all was, that, in a moment, the mob seemed to forget their quarrel, and to turn in derision on me. what might have ensued it would not be easy to say; but just at this very critical juncture, and while the drunken latheron was casting herself into antic shapes of distress, and flourishing with her hands and arms to the heavens at my imputed cruelty, two of the town-officers came up, which gave me courage to act a decisive part; so i gave over to them mrs beaufort, with all her airs, and, going myself to the guardhouse, brought a file of soldiers, and so quelled the riot. but from that night i thought it prudent to eschew every allusion to mrs fenton, and tacitly to forgive even swinton for the treatment i had received from him, by seeming as if i had not noticed him, although i had singled him out by name. mrs pawkie, on hearing what i had suffered from mrs beaufort, was very zealous that i should punish her to the utmost rigour of the law, even to drumming her out of the town; but forbearance was my best policy, so i only persuaded my colleagues to order the players to decamp, and to give the tappit-hen notice, that it would be expedient for the future sale of her pies and porter, at untimeous hours, and that she should flit her howff from our town. indeed, what pleasure would it have been to me to have dealt unmercifully, either towards the one or the other? for surely the gentle way of keeping up a proper respect for magistrates, and others in authority, should ever be preferred; especially, as in cases like this, where there had been no premeditated wrong. and i say this with the greater sincerity; for in my secret conscience, when i think of the affair at this distance of time, i am pricked not a little in reflecting how i had previously crowed and triumphed over poor mr hickery, in the matter of his mortification at the time of miss peggy dainty's false step. chapter xxxvii--the duel heretofore all my magisterial undertakings and concerns had thriven in a very satisfactory manner. i was, to be sure, now and then, as i have narrated, subjected to opposition, and squibs, and a jeer; and envious and spiteful persons were not wanting in the world to call in question my intents and motives, representing my best endeavours for the public good as but a right-handed method to secure my own interests. it would be a vain thing of me to deny, that, at the beginning of my career, i was misled by the wily examples of the past times, who thought that, in taking on them to serve the community, they had a privilege to see that they were full-handed for what benefit they might do the public; but as i gathered experience, and saw the rising of the sharp-sighted spirit that is now abroad among the affairs of men, i clearly discerned that it would be more for the advantage of me and mine to act with a conformity thereto, than to seek, by any similar wiles or devices, an immediate and sicker advantage. i may therefore say, without a boast, that the two or three years before my third provostry were as renowned and comfortable to myself, upon the whole, as any reasonable man could look for. we cannot, however, expect a full cup and measure of the sweets of life, without some adulteration of the sour and bitter; and it was my lot and fate to prove an experience of this truth, in a sudden and unaccountable falling off from all moral decorum in a person of my brother's only son, richard, a lad that was a promise of great ability in his youth. he was just between the tyning and the winning, as the saying is, when the playactors, before spoken off, came to the town, being then in his eighteenth year. naturally of a light-hearted and funny disposition, and possessing a jocose turn for mimickry, he was a great favourite among his companions, and getting in with the players, it seems drew up with that little-worth, demure daffodel, miss scarborough, through the instrumentality of whose condisciples and the randy mrs beaufort, that riot at widow fenton's began, which ended in expurgating the town of the whole gang, bag and baggage. some there were, i shall here mention, who said that the expulsion of the players was owing to what i had heard anent the intromission of my nephew; but, in verity, i had not the least spunk or spark of suspicion of what was going on between him and the miss, till one night, some time after, richard and the young laird of swinton, with others of their comrades, forgathered, and came to high words on the subject, the two being rivals, or rather, as was said, equally in esteem and favour with the lady. young swinton was, to say the truth of him, a fine bold rattling lad, warm in the temper, and ready with the hand, and no man's foe so much as his own; for he was a spoiled bairn, through the partiality of old lady bodikins, his grandmother, who lived in the turreted house at the town- end, by whose indulgence he grew to be of a dressy and rakish inclination, and, like most youngsters of the kind, was vain of his shames, the which cost mr pittle's session no little trouble. but--not to dwell on his faults--my nephew and he quarrelled, and nothing less would serve them than to fight a duel, which they did with pistols next morning; and richard received from the laird's first shot a bullet in the left arm, that disabled him in that member for life. he was left for dead on the green where they fought--swinton and the two seconds making, as was supposed, their escape. when richard was found faint and bleeding by tammy tout, the town-herd, as he drove out the cows in the morning, the hobleshow is not to be described; and my brother came to me, and insisted that i should give him a warrant to apprehend all concerned. i was grieved for my brother, and very much distressed to think of what had happened to blithe dicky, as i was wont to call my nephew when he was a laddie, and i would fain have gratified the spirit of revenge in myself; but i brought to mind his roving and wanton pranks, and i counselled his father first to abide the upshot of the wound, representing to him, in the best manner i could, that it was but the quarrel of the young men, and that maybe his son was as muckle in fault as swinton. my brother was, however, of a hasty temper, and upbraided me with my slackness, on account, as he tauntingly insinuated, of the young laird being one of my best customers, which was a harsh and unrighteous doing; but it was not the severest trial which the accident occasioned to me; for the same night, at a late hour, a line was brought to me by a lassie, requesting i would come to a certain place--and when i went there, who was it from but swinton and the two other young lads that had been the seconds at the duel. "bailie," said the laird on behalf of himself and friends, "though you are the uncle of poor dick, we have resolved to throw ourselves into your hands, for we have not provided any money to enable us to flee the country; we only hope you will not deal overly harshly with us till his fate is ascertained." i was greatly disconcerted, and wist not what to say; for knowing the rigour of our scottish laws against duelling, i was wae to see three brave youths, not yet come to years of discretion, standing in the peril and jeopardy of an ignominious end, and that, too, for an injury done to my own kin; and then i thought of my nephew and of my brother, that, maybe, would soon be in sorrow for the loss of his only son. in short, i was tried almost beyond my humanity. the three poor lads, seeing me hesitate, were much moved, and one of them (sandy blackie) said, "i told you how it would be; it was even-down madness to throw ourselves into the lion's mouth." to this swinton replied, "mr pawkie, we have cast ourselves on your mercy as a gentleman." what could i say to this, but that i hoped they would find me one; and without speaking any more at that time--for indeed i could not, my heart beat so fast--i bade them follow me, and taking them round by the back road to my garden yett, i let them in, and conveyed them into a warehouse where i kept my bales and boxes. then slipping into the house, i took out of the pantry a basket of bread and a cold leg of mutton, which, when mrs pawkie and the servant lassies missed in the morning, they could not divine what had become of; and giving the same to them, with a bottle of wine--for they were very hungry, having tasted nothing all day--i went round to my brother's to see at the latest how richard was. but such a stang as i got on entering the house, when i heard his mother wailing that he was dead, he having fainted away in getting the bullet extracted; and when i saw his father coming out of the room like a demented man, and heard again his upbraiding of me for having refused a warrant to apprehend the murderers--i was so stunned with the shock, and with the thought of the poor young lads in my mercy, that i could with difficulty support myself along the passage into a room where there was a chair, into which i fell rather than threw myself. i had not, however, been long seated, when a joyful cry announced that richard was recovering, and presently he was in a manner free from pain; and the doctor assured me the wound was probably not mortal. i did not, however, linger long on hearing this; but hastening home, i took what money i had in my scrutoire, and going to the malefactors, said, "lads, take thir twa three pounds, and quit the town as fast as ye can, for richard is my nephew, and blood, ye ken, is thicker than water, and i may be tempted to give you up." they started on their legs, and shaking me in a warm manner by both the hands, they hurried away without speaking, nor could i say more, as i opened the back yett to let them out, than bid them take tent of themselves. mrs pawkie was in a great consternation at my late absence, and when i went home she thought i was ill, i was so pale and flurried, and she wanted to send for the doctor, but i told her that when i was calmed, i would be better; however, i got no sleep that night. in the morning i went to see richard, whom i found in a composed and rational state: he confessed to his father that he was as muckle to blame as swinton, and begged and entreated us, if he should die, not to take any steps against the fugitives: my brother, however, was loth to make rash promises, and it was not till his son was out of danger that i had any ease of mind for the part i had played. but when richard was afterwards well enough to go about, and the duellers had come out of their hidings, they told him what i had done, by which the whole affair came to the public, and i got great fame thereby, none being more proud to speak of it than poor dick himself, who, from that time, became the bosom friend of swinton; in so much that, when he was out of his time as a writer, and had gone through his courses at edinburgh, the laird made him his man of business, and, in a manner, gave him a nest egg. chapter xxxviii--an interlocutor upon a consideration of many things, it appears to me very strange, that almost the whole tot of our improvements became, in a manner, the parents of new plagues and troubles to the magistrates. it might reasonably have been thought that the lamps in the streets would have been a terror to evil-doers, and the plainstone side-pavements paths of pleasantness to them that do well; but, so far from this being the case, the very reverse was the consequence. the servant lasses went freely out (on their errands) at night, and at late hours, for their mistresses, without the protection of lanterns, by which they were enabled to gallant in a way that never could have before happened: for lanterns are kenspeckle commodities, and of course a check on every kind of gavaulling. thus, out of the lamps sprung no little irregularity in the conduct of servants, and much bitterness of spirit on that account to mistresses, especially to those who were of a particular turn, and who did not choose that their maidens should spend their hours a-field, when they could be profitably employed at home. of the plagues that were from the plainstones, i have given an exemplary specimen in the plea between old perjink miss peggy dainty, and the widow fenton, that was commonly called the tappit-hen. for the present, i shall therefore confine myself in this _nota bena_ to an accident that happened to mrs girdwood, the deacon of the coopers' wife--a most managing, industrious, and indefatigable woman, that allowed no grass to grow in her path. mrs girdwood had fee'd one jeanie tirlet, and soon after she came home, the mistress had her big summer washing at the public washing-house on the green--all the best of her sheets and napery--both what had been used in the course of the winter, and what was only washed to keep clear in the colour, were in the boyne. it was one of the greatest doings of the kind that the mistress had in the whole course of the year, and the value of things intrusted to jeanie's care was not to be told, at least so said mrs girdwood herself. jeanie and marion sapples, the washerwoman, with a pickle tea and sugar tied in the corners of a napkin, and two measured glasses of whisky in an old doctor's bottle, had been sent with the foul clothes the night before to the washing-house, and by break of day they were up and at their work; nothing particular, as marion said, was observed about jeanie till after they had taken their breakfast, when, in spreading out the clothes on the green, some of the ne'er-do-weel young clerks of the town were seen gaffawing and haverelling with jeanie, the consequence of which was, that all the rest of the day she was light-headed; indeed, as mrs girdwood told me herself, when jeanie came in from the green for marion's dinner, she couldna help remarking to her goodman, that there was something fey about the lassie, or, to use her own words, there was a storm in her tail, light where it might. but little did she think it was to bring the dule it did to her. jeanie having gotten the pig with the wonted allowance of broth and beef in it for marion, returned to the green, and while marion was eating the same, she disappeared. once away, aye away; hilt or hair of jeanie was not seen that night. honest marion sapples worked like a trojan to the gloaming, but the light latheron never came back; at last, seeing no other help for it, she got one of the other women at the washing-house to go to mrs girdwood and to let her know what had happened, and how the best part of the washing would, unless help was sent, be obliged to lie out all night. the deacon's wife well knew the great stake she had on that occasion in the boyne, and was for a season demented with the thought; but at last summoning her three daughters, and borrowing our lass, and mr smeddum the tobacconist's niece, she went to the green, and got everything safely housed, yet still jeanie tirlet never made her appearance. mrs girdwood and her daughters having returned home, in a most uneasy state of mind on the lassie's account, the deacon himself came over to me, to consult what he ought to do as the head of a family. but i advised him to wait till jeanie cast up, which was the next morning. where she had been, and who she was with, could never be delved out of her; but the deacon brought her to the clerk's chamber, before bailie kittlewit, who was that day acting magistrate, and he sentenced her to be dismissed from her servitude with no more than the wage she had actually earned. the lassie was conscious of the ill turn she had played, and would have submitted in modesty; but one of the writers' clerks, an impudent whipper-snapper, that had more to say with her than i need to say, bade her protest and appeal against the interlocutor, which the daring gipsy, so egged on, actually did, and the appeal next court day came before me. whereupon, i, knowing the outs and ins of the case, decerned that she should be fined five shillings to the poor of the parish, and ordained to go back to mrs girdwood's, and there stay out the term of her servitude, or failing by refusal so to do, to be sent to prison, and put to hard labour for the remainder of the term. every body present, on hearing the circumstances, thought this a most judicious and lenient sentence; but so thought not the other servant lasses of the town; for in the evening, as i was going home, thinking no harm, on passing the cross-well, where a vast congregation of them were assembled with their stoups discoursing the news of the day, they opened on me like a pack of hounds at a tod, and i verily believed they would have mobbed me had i not made the best of my way home. my wife had been at the window when the hobleshow began, and was just like to die of diversion at seeing me so set upon by the tinklers; and when i entered the dining-room she said, "really, mr pawkie, ye're a gallant man, to be so weel in the good graces of the ladies." but although i have often since had many a good laugh at the sport, i was not overly pleased with mrs pawkie at the time--particularly as the matter between the deacon's wife and jeanie did not end with my interlocutor. for the latheron's friend in the court having discovered that i had not decerned she was to do any work to mrs girdwood, but only to stay out her term, advised her to do nothing when she went back but go to her bed, which she was bardy enough to do, until my poor friend, the deacon, in order to get a quiet riddance of her, was glad to pay her full fee, and board wages for the remainder of her time. this was the same jeanie tirlet that was transported for some misdemeanour, after making both glasgow and edinburgh owre het to hold her. chapter xxxix--the newspaper shortly after the foregoing tribulation, of which i cannot take it upon me to say that i got so well rid as of many other vexations of a more grievous nature, there arose a thing in the town that caused to me much deep concern, and very serious reflection. i had been, from the beginning, a true government man, as all loyal subjects ought in duty to be; for i never indeed could well understand how it would advantage, either the king or his ministers, to injure and do detriment to the lieges; on the contrary, i always saw and thought that his majesty, and those of his cabinet, had as great an interest in the prosperity and well- doing of the people, as it was possible for a landlord to have in the thriving of his tenantry. accordingly, giving on all occasions, and at all times and seasons, even when the policy of the kingdom was overcast with a cloud, the king and government, in church and state, credit for the best intentions, however humble their capacity in performance might seem in those straits and difficulties, which, from time to time, dumfoundered the wisest in power and authority, i was exceedingly troubled to hear that a newspaper was to be set up in the burgh, and that, too, by hands not altogether clean of the coom of jacobinical democracy. the person that first brought me an account of this, and it was in a private confidential manner, was mr scudmyloof, the grammar schoolmaster, a man of method and lear, to whom the fathers of the project had applied for an occasional cast of his skill, in the way of latin head-pieces, and essays of erudition concerning the free spirit among the ancient greeks and romans; but he, not liking the principle of the men concerned in the scheme, thought that it would be a public service to the community at large, if a stop could be put, by my help, to the opening of such an ettering sore and king's evil as a newspaper, in our heretofore and hitherto truly royal and loyal burgh; especially as it was given out that the calamity, for i can call it no less, was to be conducted on liberal principles, meaning, of course, in the most afflicting and vexatious manner towards his majesty's ministers. "what ye say," said i to mr scudmyloof when he told me the news, "is very alarming, very much so indeed; but as there is no law yet actually and peremptorily prohibiting the sending forth of newspapers, i doubt it will not be in my power to interfere." he was of the same opinion; and we both agreed it was a rank exuberance of liberty, that the commonality should be exposed to the risk of being inoculated with anarchy and confusion, from what he, in his learned manner, judiciously called the predilections of amateur pretension. the parties engaged in the project being mr absolom the writer--a man no overly reverential in his opinion of the law and lords when his clients lost their pleas, which, poor folk, was very often--and some three or four young and inexperienced lads, that were wont to read essays, and debate the kittle points of divinity and other hidden knowledge, in the cross-keys monthly, denying the existence of the soul of man, as dr sinney told me, till they were deprived of all rationality by foreign or british spirits. in short, i was perplexed when i heard of the design, not knowing what to do, or what might be expected from me by government in a case of such emergency as the setting up of a newspaper so declaredly adverse to every species of vested trust and power; for it was easy to forsee that those immediately on the scene would be the first opposed to the onset and brunt of the battle. never can any public man have a more delicate task imposed upon him, than to steer clear of offence in such a predicament. after a full consideration of the business, mr scudmyloof declared that he would retire from the field, and stand aloof; and he rehearsed a fine passage in the greek language on that head, pat to the occasion, but which i did not very thoroughly understand, being no deacon in the dead languages, as i told him at the time. but when the dominie had left me, i considered with myself, and having long before then observed that our hopes, when realized, are always light in the grain, and our fears, when come to pass, less than they seemed as seen through the mists of time and distance, i resolved with myself to sit still with my eyes open, watching and saying nothing; and it was well that i deported myself so prudently; for when the first number of the paper made its appearance, it was as poor a job as ever was "open to all parties, and influenced by none;" and it required but two eyes to discern that there was no need of any strong power from the lord advocate to suppress or abolish the undertaking; for there was neither birr nor smeddum enough in it to molest the high or to pleasure the low; so being left to itself, and not ennobled by any prosecution, as the schemers expected, it became as foisonless as the "london gazette" on ordinary occasions. those behind the curtain, who thought to bounce out with a grand stot and strut before the world, finding that even i used it as a convenient vehicle to advertise my houses when need was, and which i did by the way of a canny seduction of policy, joking civilly with mr absolom anent his paper trumpet, as i called it, they were utterly vanquished by seeing themselves of so little account in the world, and forsook the thing altogether; by which means it was gradually transformed into a very solid and decent supporter of the government--mr absolom, for his pains, being invited to all our public dinners, of which he gave a full account, to the great satisfaction of all who were present, but more particularly to those who were not, especially the wives and ladies of the town, to whom it was a great pleasure to see the names of their kith and kin in print. and indeed, to do mr absolom justice, he was certainly at great pains to set off every thing to the best advantage, and usually put speeches to some of our names which showed that, in the way of grammaticals, he was even able to have mended some of the parliamentary clishmaclavers, of which the londoners, with all their skill in the craft, are so seldom able to lick into any shape of common sense. thus, by a judicious forbearance in the first instance, and a canny wising towards the undertaking in the second, did i, in the third, help to convert this dangerous political adversary into a very respectable instrument of governmental influence and efficacy. chapter xl--the school-house scheme the spirit of opposition that kithed towards me in the affair of robin boss, the drummer, was but an instance and symptom of the new nature then growing up in public matters. i was not long done with my second provostry, when i had occasion to congratulate myself on having passed twice through the dignity with so much respect; for, at the michaelmas term, we had chosen mr robert plan into the vacancy caused by the death of that easy man, mr weezle, which happened a short time before. i know not what came over me, that mr plan was allowed to be chosen, for i never could abide him; being, as he was, a great stickler for small particularities, more zealous than discreet, and even more intent to carry his own point, than to consider the good that might flow from a more urbane spirit. not that the man was devoid of ability--few, indeed, could set forth a more plausible tale; but he was continually meddling, keeking, and poking, and always taking up a suspicious opinion of every body's intents and motives but his own. he was, besides, of a retired and sedentary habit of body; and the vapour of his stomach, as he was sitting by himself, often mounted into his upper story, and begat, with his over zealous and meddling imagination, many unsound and fantastical notions. for all that, however, it must be acknowledged that mr plan was a sincere honest man, only he sometimes lacked the discernment of the right from the wrong; and the consequence was, that, when in error, he was even more obstinate than when in the right; for his jealousy of human nature made him interpret falsely the heat with which his own headstrong zeal, when in error, was ever very properly resisted. in nothing, however, did his molesting temper cause so much disturbance, as when, in the year , the bigging of the new school-house was under consideration. there was, about that time, a great sough throughout the country on the subject of education, and it was a fashion to call schools academies; and out of a delusion rising from the use of that term, to think it necessary to decry the good plain old places, wherein so many had learnt those things by which they helped to make the country and kingdom what it is, and to scheme for the ways and means to raise more edificial structures and receptacles. none was more infected with his distemperature than mr plan; and accordingly, when he came to the council- chamber, on the day that the matter of the new school-house was to be discussed, he brought with him a fine castle in the air, which he pressed hard upon us; representing, that if we laid out two or three thousand pounds more than we intended, and built a beautiful academy and got a rector thereto, with a liberal salary, and other suitable masters, opulent people at a distance--yea, gentlemen in the east and west indies--would send their children to be educated among us, by which, great fame and profit would redound to the town. nothing could be more plausibly set forth; and certainly the project, as a notion, had many things to recommend it; but we had no funds adequate to undertake it; so, on the score of expense, knowing, as i did, the state of the public income, i thought it my duty to oppose it _in toto_; which fired mr plan to such a degree, that he immediately insinuated that i had some end of my own to serve in objecting to his scheme; and because the wall that it was proposed to big round the moderate building, which we were contemplating, would inclose a portion of the backside of my new steading at the westergate, he made no scruple of speaking, in a circumbendibus manner, as to the particular reasons that i might have for preferring it to his design, which he roused, in his way, as more worthy of the state of the arts and the taste of the age. it was not easy to sit still under his imputations; especially as i could plainly see that some of the other members of the council leant towards his way of thinking. nor will i deny that, in preferring the more moderate design, i had a contemplation of my own advantage in the matter of the dyke; for i do not think it any shame to a public man to serve his own interests by those of the community, when he can righteously do so. it was a thing never questionable, that the school-house required the inclosure of a wall, and the outside of that wall was of a natural necessity constrained to be a wing of inclosure to the ground beyond. therefore, i see not how a corrupt motive ought to have been imputed to me, merely because i had a piece of ground that marched with the spot whereon it was intended to construct the new building; which spot, i should remark, belonged to the town before i bought mine. however, mr plan so worked upon this material, that, what with one thing and what with another, he got the council persuaded to give up the moderate plan, and to consent to sell the ground where it had been proposed to build the new school, and to apply the proceeds towards the means of erecting a fine academy on the green. it was not easy to thole to be so thwarted, especially for such an extravagant problem, by one so new to our councils and deliberations. i never was more fashed in my life; for having hitherto, in all my plans for the improvement of the town, not only succeeded, but given satisfaction, i was vexed to see the council run away with such a speculative vagary. no doubt, the popular fantasy anent education and academies, had quite as muckle to do in the matter as mr plan's fozey rhetoric, but what availed that to me, at seeing a reasonable undertaking reviled and set aside, and grievous debts about to be laid on the community for a bubble as unsubstantial as that of the ayr bank. besides, it was giving the upper hand in the council to mr plan, to which, as a new man, he had no right. i said but little, for i saw it would be of no use; i, however, took a canny opportunity of remarking to old mr dinledoup, the english teacher, that this castle-building scheme of an academy would cause great changes probably in the masters; and as, no doubt, it would oblige us to adopt the new methods of teaching, i would like to have a private inkling of what salary he would expect on being superannuated. the worthy man was hale and hearty, not exceeding three score and seven, and had never dreamt of being superannuated. he was, besides, a prideful body, and, like all of his calling, thought not a little of himself. the surprise, therefore, with which he heard me was just wonderful. for a space of time he stood still and uttered nothing; then he took his snuff- box out of the flap pocket of his waistcoat, where he usually carried it, and, giving three distinct and very comical raps, drew his mouth into a purse. "mr pawkie," at last he said; "mr pawkie, there will be news in the world before i consent to be superannuated." this was what i expected, and i replied, "then, why do not you and mr scudmyloof, of the grammar school, represent to the magistrates that the present school-house may, with a small repair, serve for many years." and so i sowed an effectual seed of opposition to mr plan, in a quarter he never dreamt of; the two dominies, in the dread of undergoing some transmogrification, laid their heads together, and went round among the parents of the children, and decried the academy project, and the cess that the cost of it would bring upon the town; by which a public opinion was begotten and brought to a bearing, that the magistrates could not resist; so the old school-house was repaired, and mr plan's scheme, as well as the other, given up. in this, it is true, if i had not the satisfaction to get a dyke to the backside of my property, i had the pleasure to know that my interloping adversary was disappointed; the which was a sort of compensation. chapter xli--benefits of neutrality the general election in was a source of trouble and uneasiness to me; both because our district of burghs was to be contested, and because the contest was not between men of opposite principles, but of the same side. to neither of them had i any particular leaning; on the contrary, i would have preferred the old member, whom i had, on different occasions, found an accessible and tractable instrument, in the way of getting small favours with the government and india company, for friends that never failed to consider them as such things should be. but what could i do? providence had placed me in the van of the battle, and i needs must fight; so thought every body, and so for a time i thought myself. weighing, however, the matter one night soberly in my mind, and seeing that whichever of the two candidates was chosen, i, by my adherent loyalty to the cause for which they were both declared, the contest between them being a rivalry of purse and personality, would have as much to say with the one as with the other, came to the conclusion that it was my prudentest course not to intermeddle at all in the election. accordingly, as soon as it was proper to make a declaration of my sentiments, i made this known, and it caused a great wonderment in the town; nobody could imagine it possible that i was sincere, many thinking there was something aneath it, which would kithe in time to the surprise of the public. however, the peutering went on, and i took no part. the two candidates were as civil and as liberal, the one after the other, to mrs pawkie and my daughters, as any gentlemen of a parliamentary understanding could be. indeed, i verily believe, that although i had been really chosen delegate, as it was at one time intended i should be, i could not have hoped for half the profit that came in from the dubiety which my declaration of neutrality caused; for as often as i assured the one candidate that i did not intend even to be present at the choosing of the delegate, some rich present was sure to be sent to my wife, of which the other no sooner heard than he was upsides with him. it was just a sport to think of me protesting my neutrality, and to see how little i was believed. for still the friends of the two candidates, like the figures of the four quarters of the world round britannia in a picture, came about my wife, and poured into her lap a most extraordinary paraphernalia from the horn of their abundance. the common talk of the town was, that surely i was bereft of my wonted discretion, to traffic so openly with corruption; and that it could not be doubted i would have to face the house of commons, and suffer the worst pains and penalties of bribery. but what did all this signify to me, who was conscious of the truth and integrity of my motives and talents? "they say!--what say they?--let them say!"--was what i said, as often as any of my canny friends came to me, saying, "for god's sake, mr pawkie, tak'tent"--"i hope, mr pawkie, ye ken the ground ye stand on"--or, "i wish that some folks were aware of what's said about them." in short, i was both angered and diverted by their clishmaclavers; and having some need to go into glasgow just on the eve of the election, i thought i would, for diversion, give them something in truth to play with; so saying nothing to my shop lad the night before, nor even to mrs pawkie, (for the best of women are given to tattling), till we were in our beds, i went off early on the morning of the day appointed for choosing the delegate. the consternation in the town at my evasion was wonderful. nobody could fathom it; and the friends and supporters of the rival candidates looked, as i was told, at one another, in a state of suspicion that was just a curiosity to witness. even when the delegate was chosen, every body thought that something would be found wanting, merely because i was not present. the new member himself, when his election was declared, did not feel quite easy; and more than once, when i saw him after my return from glasgow, he said to me, in a particular manner--"but tell me now, bailie, what was the true reason of your visit to glasgow?" and, in like manner, his opponent also hinted that he would petition against the return; but there were some facts which he could not well get at without my assistance--insinuating that i might find my account in helping him. at last, the true policy of the part i had played began to be understood; and i got far more credit for the way in which i had turned both parties so well to my own advantage, than if i had been the means of deciding the election by my single vote. chapter xlii--the new member but the new member was, in some points, not of so tractable a nature as many of his predecessors had been; and notwithstanding all the couthy jocosity and curry-favouring of his demeanour towards us before the election, he was no sooner returned, than he began, as it were, to snap his fingers in the very faces of those of the council to whom he was most indebted, which was a thing not of very easy endurance, considering how they had taxed their consciences in his behalf; and this treatment was the more bitterly felt, as the old member had been, during the whole of his time, as considerate and obliging as could reasonably be expected; doing any little job that needed his helping hand when it was in his power, and when it was not, replying to our letters in a most discreet and civil manner. to be sure, poor man, he had but little to say in the way of granting favours; for being latterly inclined to a whiggish principle, he was, in consequence, debarred from all manner of government patronage, and had little in his gift but soft words and fair promises. indeed, i have often remarked, in the course of my time, that there is a surprising difference, in regard to the urbanities in use among those who have not yet come to authority, or who have been cast down from it, and those who are in the full possession of the rule and domination of office; but never was the thing plainer than in the conduct of the new member. he was by nature and inclination one of the upsetting sort; a kind of man who, in all manner of business, have a leaven of contrariness, that makes them very hard to deal with; and he, being conjunct with his majesty's ministers at london, had imbibed and partook of that domineering spirit to which all men are ordained, to be given over whenever they are clothed in the garments of power. many among us thought, by his colleaguing with the government, that we had got a great catch, and they were both blythe and vogie when he was chosen; none doubting but he would do much good servitude to the corporation, and the interests of the burgh. however he soon gave a rebuff, that laid us all on our backs in a state of the greatest mortification. but although it behoved me to sink down with the rest, i was but little hurt: on the contary, i had a good laugh in my sleeve at the time; and afterwards, many a merry tumbler of toddy with my brethren, when they had recovered from their discomfiture. the story was this:-- about a fortnight after the election, mr scudmyloof, the schoolmaster, called one day on me, in my shop, and said, "that being of a nervous turn, the din of the school did not agree with him; and that he would, therefore, be greatly obligated to me if i would get him made a gauger." there had been something in the carriage of our new member, before he left the town, that was not satisfactory to me, forbye my part at the election, the which made me loth to be the first to ask for any grace, though the master was a most respectable and decent man; so i advised mr scudmyloof to apply to provost pickandab, who had been the delegate, as the person to whose instrumentality the member was most obliged; and to whose application, he of course would pay the greatest attention. whether provost pickandab had made any observe similar to mine, i never could rightly understand, though i had a notion to that effect: he, however, instead of writing himself, made the application for mr scudmyloof an affair of the council; recommending him as a worthy modest man, which he really was, and well qualified for the post. off went this notable letter, and by return of post from london, we got our answer as we were all sitting in council; deliberating anent the rebuilding of the crosswell, which had been for some time in a sore state of dilapidation; and surely never was any letter more to the point and less to the purpose of an applicant. it was very short and pithy, just acknowledging receipt of ours; and adding thereto, "circumstances do not allow me to pay any attention to such applications." we all with one accord, in sympathy and instinct, threw ourselves back in our chairs at the words, looking at provost pickandab, with the pragmatical epistle in his hand, sitting in his place at the head of the table, with the countenance of consternation. when i came to myself, i began to consider that there must have been something no right in the provost's own letter on the subject, to cause such an uncourteous rebuff; so after condemning, in very strong terms, the member's most ungenteel style, in order to procure for myself a patient hearing, i warily proposed that the provost's application should be read, a copy thereof being kept, and i had soon a positive confirmation of my suspicion. for the provost, being fresh in the dignity of his office, and naturally of a prideful turn, had addressed the parliament man as if he was under an obligation to him; and as if the council had a right to command him to get the gauger's post, or indeed any other, for whomsoever they might apply. so, seeing whence the original sin of the affair had sprung, i said nothing; but the same night i wrote a humiliated letter from myself to the member, telling him how sorry we all were for the indiscretion that had been used towards him, and how much it would pleasure me to heal the breach that had happened between him and the burgh, with other words of an oily and conciliating policy. the indignant member, by the time my letter reached hand, had cooled in his passion, and, i fancy, was glad of an occasion to do away the consequence of the rupture; for with a most extraordinary alacrity he procured mr scudmyloof the post, writing me, when he had done so, in the civilest manner, and saying many condescending things concerning his regard for me; all which ministered to maintain and uphold my repute and consideration in the town, as superior to that of the provost. chapter xliii--my third provostry it was at the michaelmas that i was chosen provost for the third time, and at the special request of my lord the earl, who, being in ill health, had been advised by the faculty of doctors in london to try the medicinal virtues of the air and climate of sicily, in the mediterranean sea; and there was an understanding on the occasion, that i should hold the post of honour for two years, chiefly in order to bring to a conclusion different works that the town had then in hand. at the two former times when i was raised to the dignity, and indeed at all times when i received any advancement, i had enjoyed an elation of heart, and was, as i may say, crouse and vogie; but experience had worked a change upon my nature, and when i was saluted on my election with the customary greetings and gratulations of those present, i felt a solemnity enter into the frame of my thoughts, and i became as it were a new man on the spot. when i returned home to my own house, i retired into my private chamber for a time, to consult with myself in what manner my deportment should be regulated; for i was conscious that heretofore i had been overly governed with a disposition to do things my own way, and although not in an avaricious temper, yet something, i must confess, with a sort of sinister respect for my own interests. it may be, that standing now clear and free of the world, i had less incitement to be so grippy, and so was thought of me, i very well know; but in sobriety and truth i conscientiously affirm, and herein record, that i had lived to partake of the purer spirit which the great mutations of the age had conjured into public affairs, and i saw that there was a necessity to carry into all dealings with the concerns of the community, the same probity which helps a man to prosperity in the sequestered traffic of private life. this serious and religious communing wrought within me to a benign and pleasant issue, and when i went back in the afternoon to dine with the corporation in the council-room, and looked around me on the bailies, the councillors, and the deacons, i felt as if i was indeed elevated above them all, and that i had a task to perform, in which i could hope for but little sympathy from many; and the first thing i did was to measure, with a discreet hand, the festivity of the occasion. at all former and precedent banquets, it had been the custom to give vent to muckle wanton and luxurious indulgence, and to galravitch, both at hack and manger, in a very expensive manner to the funds of the town. i therefore resolved to set my face against this for the future; and accordingly, when we had enjoyed a jocose temperance of loyalty and hilarity, with a decent measure of wine, i filled a glass, and requesting all present to do the same, without any preliminary reflections on the gavaulling of past times, i drank good afternoon to each severally, and then rose from the table, in a way that put an end to all the expectations of more drink. but this conduct did not give satisfaction to some of the old hands, who had been for years in the habit and practice of looking forward to the provost's dinner as to a feast of fat things. mr peevie, one of the very sickerest of all the former sederunts, came to me next morning, in a remonstrating disposition, to enquire what had come over me, and to tell me that every body was much surprised, and many thought it not right of me to break in upon ancient and wonted customs in such a sudden and unconcerted manner. this mr peevie was, in his person, a stumpy man, well advanced in years. he had been, in his origin, a bonnet-maker; but falling heir to a friend that left him a property, he retired from business about the fiftieth year of his age, doing nothing but walking about with an ivory-headed staff, in a suit of dark bluecloth with yellow buttons, wearing a large cocked hat, and a white three-tiered wig, which was well powdered every morning by duncan curl, the barber. the method of his discourse and conversation was very precise, and his words were all set forth in a style of consequence, that took with many for a season as the pith and marrow of solidity and sense. the body, however, was but a pompous trifle, and i had for many a day held his observes and admonishments in no very reverential estimation. so that, when i heard him address me in such a memorializing manner, i was inclined and tempted to set him off with a flea in his lug. however, i was enabled to bridle and rein in this prejudicial humour, and answer him in his own way. "mr peevie," quo' i, "you know that few in the town hae the repute that ye hae for a gift of sagacity by common, and therefore i'll open my mind to you in this matter, with a frankness that would not be a judicious polity with folk of a lighter understanding." this was before the counter in my shop. i then walked in behind it, and drew the chair that stands in the corner nearer to the fire, for mr peevie. when he was seated thereon, and, as was his wont in conversation, had placed both his hands on the top of his staff, and leant his chin on the same, i subjoined. "mr peevie, i need not tell to a man of your experience, that folk in public stations cannot always venture to lay before the world the reasons of their conduct on particular occasions; and therefore, when men who have been long in the station that i have filled in this town, are seen to step aside from what has been in time past, it is to be hoped that grave and sensible persons like you, mr peevie, will no rashly condemn them unheard; nevertheless, my good friend, i am very happy that ye have spoken to me anent the stinted allowance of wine and punch at the dinner, because the like thing from any other would have made me jealouse that the complaint was altogether owing to a disappointed appetite, which is a corrupt thing, that i am sure would never affect a man of such a public spirit as you are well known to be." mr peevie, at this, lifted his chin from off his hands, and dropping his arms down upon his knees, held his staff by the middle, as he replied, looking upward to me, "what ye say, provost pawkie, has in it a solid commodity of judgment and sensibility; and ye may be sure that i was not without a cogitation of reflection, that there had been a discreet argument of economy at the bottom of the revolution which was brought to a criticism yesterday's afternoon. weel aware am i, that men in authority cannot appease and quell the inordinate concupiscence of the multitude, and that in a' stations of life there are persons who would mumpileese the retinue of the king and government for their own behoof and eeteration, without any regard to the cause or effect of such manifest predilections. but ye do me no more than a judicature, in supposing that, in this matter, i am habituated wi' the best intentions. for i can assure you, mr pawkie, that no man in this community has a more literal respect for your character than i have, or is more disposed for a judicious example of continence in the way of public enterteenment than i have ever been; for, as you know, i am of a constipent principle towards every extravagant and costive outlay. therefore, on my own account, i had a satisfaction at seeing the abridgement which you made of our former inebrieties; but there are other persons of a conjugal nature, who look upon such castrations as a deficiency of their rights, and the like of them will find fault with the best procedures." "very true, mr peevie," said i, "that's very true; but if his majesty's government, in this war for all that is dear to us as men and britons, wish us, who are in authority under them, to pare and save, in order that the means of bringing the war to a happy end may not be wasted, an example must be set, and that example, as a loyal subject and a magistrate, it's my intent so to give, in the hope and confidence of being backed by every person of a right way of thinking." "it's no to be deputed, provost pawkie," replied my friend, somewhat puzzled by what i had said; "it's no to be deputed, that we live in a gigantic vortex, and that every man is bound to make an energetic dispensation for the good of his country; but i could not have thought that our means had come to sic an alteration and extremity, as that the reverent homage of the michaelmas dinners could have been enacted, and declared absolute and abolished, by any interpolation less than the omnipotence of parliament." "not abolished, mr peevie," cried i, interrupting him; "that would indeed be a stretch of power. no, no; i hope we're both ordained to partake of many a michaelmas dinner thegether yet; but with a meted measure of sobriety. for we neither live in the auld time nor the golden age, and it would not do now for the like of you and me, mr peevie, to be seen in the dusk of the evening, toddling home from the town-hall wi' goggling een and havering tongues, and one of the town-officers following at a distance in case of accidents; sic things ye ken, hae been, but nobody would plead for their continuance." mr peevie did not relish this, for in truth it came near his own doors, it having been his annual practice for some years at the michaelmas dinner to give a sixpence to james hound, the officer, to see him safe home, and the very time before he had sat so long, that honest james was obligated to cleek and oxter him the whole way; and in the way home, the old man, cagie with what he had gotten, stood in the causey opposite to mr m'vest's door, then deacon of the taylors, and trying to snap his fingers, sang like a daft man, 'the sheets they were thin and the blankets were sma', and the taylor fell through the bed, thimble and a'." so that he was disconcerted by my innuendo, and shortly after left the shop, i trow, with small inclination to propagate any sedition against me, for the abbreviation i had made of the michaelmas galravitching. chapter xliv--the church vacant i had long been sensible that, in getting mr pittle the kirk, i had acted with the levity and indiscretion of a young man; but at that time i understood not the nature of public trust, nor, indeed, did the community at large. men in power then ruled more for their own ends than in these latter times; and use and wont sanctioned and sanctified many doings, from the days of our ancestors, that, but to imagine, will astonish and startle posterity. accordingly, when mr pittle, after a lingering illness, was removed from us, which happened in the first year of my third provostry, i bethought me of the consequences which had ensued from his presentation, and resolved within myself to act a very different part in the filling up of the vacancy. with this intent, as soon as the breath was out of his body, i sent round for some of the most weighty and best considered of the councillors and elders, and told them that a great trust was, by the death of the minister, placed in our hands, and that, in these times, we ought to do what in us lay to get a shepherd that would gather back to the establishment the flock which had been scattered among the seceders, by the feckless crook and ill-guiding of their former pastor. they all agreed with me in this, and named one eminent divine after another; but the majority of voices were in favour of dr whackdeil of kirkbogle, a man of weight and example, both in and out the pulpit, so that it was resolved to give the call to him, which was done accordingly. it however came out that the kirkbogle stipend was better than ours, and the consequence was, that having given the call, it became necessary to make up the deficiency; for it was not reasonable to expect that the reverend doctor, with his small family of nine children, would remove to us at a loss. how to accomplish this was a work of some difficulty, for the town revenues were all eaten up with one thing and another; but upon an examination of the income, arising from what had been levied on the seats for the repair of the church, it was discovered that, by doing away a sinking fund, which had been set apart to redeem the debt incurred for the same, and by the town taking the debt on itself, we could make up a sufficiency to bring the doctor among us. and in so far as having an orthodox preacher, and a very excellent man for our minister, there was great cause to be satisfied with that arrangement. but the payment of the interest on the public debt, with which the town was burdened, began soon after to press heavily on us, and we were obligated to take on more borrowed money, in order to keep our credit, and likewise to devise ways and means, in the shape of public improvements, to raise an income to make up what was required. this led me to suggest the building of the new bridge, the cost of which, by contract, there was no reason to complain of, and the toll thereon, while the war lasted, not only paid the interest of the borrowed money by which it was built, but left a good penny in the nook of the treasurer's box for other purposes. had the war continued, and the nation to prosper thereby as it did, nobody can doubt that a great source of wealth and income was opened to the town; but when peace came round, and our prosperity began to fall off, the traffic on the bridge grew less and less, insomuch that the toll, as i now understand, (for since my resignation, i meddle not with public concerns,) does not yield enough to pay the five per cent on the prime cost of the bridge, by which my successors suffer much molestation in raising the needful money to do the same. however, every body continues well satisfied with dr whackdeil, who was the original cause of this perplexity; and it is to be hoped that, in time, things will grow better, and the revenues come round again to idemnify the town for its present tribulation. chapter xlv--the stramash in the council as i have said, my third provostry was undertaken in a spirit of sincerity, different in some degree from that of the two former; but strange and singular as it may seem, i really think i got less credit for the purity of my intents, than i did even in the first. during the whole term from the election in the year to the michaelmas following, i verily believe that no one proposal which i made to the council was construed in a right sense; this was partly owing to the repute i had acquired for canny management, but chiefly to the perverse views and misconceptions of that yankee thorn-in-the-side, mr hickery, who never desisted from setting himself against every thing that sprang from me, and as often found some show of plausibility to maintain his argumentations. and yet, for all that, he was a man held in no esteem or respect in the town; for he had wearied every body out by his everlasting contradictions. mr plan was likewise a source of great tribulation to me; for he was ever and anon coming forward with some new device, either for ornament or profit, as he said, to the burgh; and no small portion of my time, that might have been more advantageously employed, was wasted in the thriftless consideration of his schemes: all which, with my advanced years, begat in me a sort of distaste to the bickerings of the council chamber; so i conferred and communed with myself, anent the possibility of ruling the town without having recourse to so unwieldy a vehicle as the wheels within wheels of the factions which the yankee reformator, and that projectile mr plan, as he was called by mr peevie, had inserted among us. i will no equivocate that there was, in this notion, an appearance of taking more on me than the laws allowed; but then my motives were so clean to my conscience, and i was so sure of satisfying the people by the methods i intended to pursue, that there could be no moral fault in the trifle of illegality which, may be, i might have been led on to commit. however, i was fortunately spared from the experiment, by a sudden change in the council.--one day mr hickery and mr plan, who had been for years colleaguing together for their own ends, happened to differ in opinion, and the one suspecting that this difference was the fruit of some secret corruption, they taunted each other, and came to high words, and finally to an open quarrel, actually shaking their neeves across the table, and, i'll no venture to deny, maybe exchanging blows. such a convulsion in the sober councils of a burgh town was never heard of. it was a thing not to be endured, and so i saw at the time, and was resolved to turn it to the public advantage. accordingly, when the two angry men had sat back in their seats, bleached in the face with passion, and panting and out of breath, i rose up in my chair at the head of the table, and with a judicial solemnity addressed the council, saying, that what we had witnessed was a disgrace not to be tolerated in a christian land; that unless we obtained indemnity for the past, and security for the future, i would resign; but in doing so i would bring the cause thereof before the fifteen at edinburgh, yea, even to the house of lords at london; so i gave the offending parties notice, as well as those who, from motives of personal friendship, might be disposed to overlook the insult that had been given to the constituted authority of the king, so imperfectly represented in my person, as it would seem, by the audacious conflict and misdemeanour which had just taken place. this was striking while the iron was hot: every one looked at my sternness with surprise, and some begged me to be seated, and to consider the matter calmly.--"gentlemen," quo' i, "dinna mistake me. i never was in more composure all my life.--it's indeed no on my own account that i feel on this occasion. the gross violation of all the decent decorum of magisterial authority, is not a thing that affects me in my own person; it's an outrage against the state; the prerogatives of the king's crown are endamaged; atonement must be made, or punishment must ensue. it's a thing that by no possibility can be overlooked: it's an offence committed in open court, and we cannot but take cognizance thereof." i saw that what i said was operating to an effect, and that the two troublesome members were confounded. mr hickery rose to offer some apology; but, perceiving i had now got him in a girn, i interposed my authority, and would not permit him to proceed. "mr hickery," said i, "it's of no use to address yourself to me. i am very sensible that ye are sorry for your fault; but that will not do. the law knows no such thing as repentance; and it is the law, not me nor our worthy friends here, that ye have offended. in short, mr hickery, the matter is such that, in one word, either you and mr plan must quit your seats at this table of your own free-will, or i must quit mine, and mine i will not give up without letting the public know the shame on your part that has compelled me." he sat down and i sat down; and for some time the other councillors looked at one another in silence and wonder. seeing, however, that my gentle hint was not likely to be taken, i said to the town-clerk, who was sitting at the bottom of the table, "sir, it's your duty to make a minute of everything that is done and said at the sederunts of the council; and as provost, i hereby require of you to record the particularities of this melancholy crisis." mr keelevine made an endeavour to dissuade me; but i set him down with a stern voice, striking the table at the same time with all my birr, as i said, "sir, you have no voice here. do you refuse to perform what i order? at your peril i command the thing to be done." never had such austerity been seen in my conduct before. the whole council sat in astonishment; and mr keelevine prepared his pen, and took a sheet of paper to draw out a notation of the minute, when mr peevie rose, and after coughing three times, and looking first at me and syne at the two delinquents, said-- "my lord provost, i was surprised, and beginning to be confounded, at the explosion which the two gentlemen have committed. no man can designate the extent of such an official malversation, demonstrated, as it has been here, in the presence of us all, who are the lawful custodiers of the kingly dignity in this his majesty's royal burgh. i will, therefore, not take it upon me either to apologise or to obliviate their offence; for, indeed, it is an offence that merits the most condign animadversion, and the consequences might be legible for ever, were a gentleman, so conspicable in the town as you are, to evacuate the magistracy on account of it. but it is my balsamic advice, that rather than promulgate this matter, the two malcontents should abdicate, and that a precept should be placarded at this sederunt as if they were not here, but had resigned and evaded their places, precursive to the meeting." to this i answered, that no one could suspect me of wishing to push the matter further, provided the thing could be otherwise settled; and therefore, if mr plan and mr hickery would shake hands, and agree never to notice what had passed to each other, and the other members and magistrates would consent likewise to bury the business in oblivion, i would agree to the balsamic advice of mr peevie, and even waive my obligation to bind over the hostile parties to keep the king's peace, so that the whole affair might neither be known nor placed upon record. mr hickery, i could discern, was rather surprised; but i found that i had thus got the thief in the wuddy, and he had no choice; so both he and mr plan rose from their seats in a very sheepish manner, and looking at us as if they had unpleasant ideas in their minds, they departed forth the council-chamber; and a minute was made by the town-clerk that they, having resigned their trust as councillors, two other gentlemen at the next meeting should be chosen into their stead. thus did i, in a manner most unexpected, get myself rid and clear of the two most obdurate oppositionists, and by taking care to choose discreet persons for their successors, i was enabled to wind the council round my finger, which was a far more expedient method of governing the community than what i had at one time meditated, even if i could have brought it to a bearing. but, in order to understand the full weight and importance of this, i must describe how the choice and election was made, because, in order to make my own power and influence the more sicker, it was necessary that i should not be seen in the business. chapter xlvi--the new councillors mr peevie was not a little proud of the part he had played in the storm of the council, and his words grew, if possible, longer-nebbit and more kittle than before, in so much that the same evening, when i called on him after dusk, by way of a device to get him to help the implementing of my intents with regard to the choice of two gentlemen to succeed those whom he called "the expurgated dislocators," it was with a great difficulty that i could expiscate his meaning. "mr peevie," said i, when we were cozily seated by ourselves in his little back parlour--the mistress having set out the gardevin and tumblers, and the lass brought in the hot water--"i do not think, mr peevie, that in all my experience, and i am now both an old man and an old magistrate, that i ever saw any thing better managed than the manner in which ye quelled the hobleshow this morning, and therefore we maun hae a little more of your balsamic advice, to make a' heal among us again; and now that i think o't, how has it happent that ye hae never been a bailie? i'm sure it's due both to your character and circumstance that ye should take upon you a portion of the burden of the town honours. therefore, mr peevie, would it no be a very proper thing, in the choice of the new councillors, to take men of a friendly mind towards you, and of an easy and manageable habit of will." the old man was mightily taken with this insinuation, and acknowledged that it would give him pleasure to be a bailie next year. we then cannily proceeded, just as if one thing begat another, to discourse anent the different men that were likely to do as councillors, and fixed at last on alexander hodden the blanket merchant, and patrick fegs the grocer, both excellent characters of their kind. there was not, indeed, in the whole burgh at the time, a person of such a flexible easy nature as mr hodden; and his neighbour, mr fegs, was even better, for he was so good-tempered, and kindly, and complying, that the very callants at the grammar school had nicknamed him barley-sugar pate. "no better than them can be," said i to mr peevie; "they are likewise both well to do in the world, and should be brought into consequence; and the way o't canna be in better hands than your own. i would, therefore, recommend it to you to see them on the subject, and, if ye find them willing, lay your hairs in the water to bring the business to a bearing." accordingly, we settled to speak of it as a matter in part decided, that mr hodden and mr fegs were to be the two new councillors; and to make the thing sure, as soon as i went home i told it to mrs pawkie as a state secret, and laid my injunctions on her not to say a word about it, either to mrs hodden or to mrs fegs, the wives of our two elect; for i knew her disposition, and that, although to a certainty not a word of the fact would escape from her, yet she would be utterly unable to rest until she had made the substance of it known in some way or another; and, as i expected, so it came to pass. she went that very night to mrs rickerton, the mother of mr feg's wife, and, as i afterwards picked out of her, told the old lady that may be, ere long, she would hear of some great honour that would come to her family, with other mystical intimations that pointed plainly to the dignities of the magistracy; the which, when she had returned home, so worked upon the imagination of mrs rickerton, that, before going to bed, she felt herself obliged to send for her daughter, to the end that she might be delivered and eased of what she had heard. in this way mr fegs got a foretaste of what had been concerted for his advantage; and mr peevie, in the mean time, through his helpmate, had, in like manner, not been idle; the effect of all which was, that next day, every where in the town, people spoke of mr hodden and mr fegs as being ordained to be the new councillors, in the stead of the two who had, as it was said, resigned in so unaccountable a manner, so that no candidates offered, and the election was concluded in the most candid and agreeable spirit possible; after which i had neither trouble nor adversary, but went on, in my own prudent way, with the works in hand--the completion of the new bridge, the reparation of the tolbooth steeple, and the bigging of the new schools on the piece of ground adjoining to my own at the westergate; and in the doing of the latter job i had an opportunity of manifesting my public spirit; for when the scheme, as i have related, was some years before given up, on account of mr plan's castles in the air for educating tawny children from the east and west indies, i inclosed my own ground, and built the house thereon now occupied by collector gather's widow, and the town, per consequence, was not called on for one penny of the cost, but saved so much of a wall as the length of mine extended--a part not less than a full third part of the whole. no doubt, all these great and useful public works were not done without money; but the town was then in great credit, and many persons were willing and ready to lend; for every thing was in a prosperous order, and we had a prospect of a vast increase of income, not only from the toll on the new bridge, but likewise from three very excellent shops which we repaired on the ground floor of the tolbooth. we had likewise feued out to advantage a considerable portion of the town moor; so that had things gone on in the way they were in my time, there can be no doubt that the burgh would have been in very flourishing circumstances, and instead of being drowned, as it now is, in debt, it might have been in the most topping way; and if the project that i had formed for bringing in a supply of water by pipes, had been carried into effect, it would have been a most advantageous undertaking for the community at large. but my task is now drawing to an end; and i have only to relate what happened at the conclusion of the last act of my very serviceable and eventful life, the which i will proceed to do with as much brevity as is consistent with the nature of that free and faithful spirit in which the whole of these notandums have been indited. chapter xlvii--the resignation shortly after the battle of waterloo, i began to see that a change was coming in among us. there was less work for the people to do, no outgate in the army for roving and idle spirits, and those who had tacks of the town lands complained of slack markets; indeed, in my own double vocation of the cloth shop and wine cellar, i had a taste and experience of the general declension that would of a necessity ensue, when the great outlay of government and the discharge from public employ drew more and more to an issue. so i bethought me, that being now well stricken in years, and, though i say it that should not, likewise a man in good respect and circumstances, it would be a prudent thing to retire and secede entirely from all farther intromissions with public affairs. accordingly, towards the midsummer of the year , i commenced in a far off way to give notice, that at michaelmas i intended to abdicate my authority and power, to which intimations little heed was at first given; but gradually the seed took with the soil, and began to swell and shoot up, in so much that, by the middle of august, it was an understood thing that i was to retire from the council, and refrain entirely from the part i had so long played with credit in the burgh. when people first began to believe that i was in earnest, i cannot but acknowledge i was remonstrated with by many, and that not a few were pleased to say my resignation would be a public loss; but these expressions, and the disposition of them, wore away before michaelmas came; and i had some sense of the feeling which the fluctuating gratitude of the multitude often causes to rise in the breasts of those who have ettled their best to serve the ungrateful populace. however, i considered with myself that it would not do for me, after what i had done for the town and commonality, to go out of office like a knotless thread, and that, as a something was of right due to me, i would be committing an act of injustice to my family if i neglected the means of realizing the same. but it was a task of delicacy, and who could i prompt to tell the town-council to do what they ought to do? i could not myself speak of my own services--i could ask nothing. truly it was a subject that cost me no small cogitation; for i could not confide it even to the wife of my bosom. however, i gained my end, and the means and method thereof may advantage other public characters, in a similar strait, to know and understand. seeing that nothing was moving onwards in men's minds to do the act of courtesy to me, so justly my due, on the saturday before michaelmas i invited mr mucklewheel, the hosier, (who had the year before been chosen into the council, in the place of old mr peevie, who had a paralytic, and never in consequence was made a bailie,) to take a glass of toddy with me, a way and method of peutering with the councillors, one by one, that i often found of a great efficacy in bringing their understandings into a docile state; and when we had discussed one cheerer with the usual clishmaclaver of the times, i began, as we were both birzing the sugar for the second, to speak with a circumbendibus about my resignation of the trusts i had so long held with profit to the community. "mr mucklewheel," quo' i "ye're but a young man, and no versed yet, as ye will be, in the policy and diplomatics that are requisite in the management of the town, and therefore i need not say any thing to you about what i have got an inkling of, as to the intents of the new magistrates and council towards me. it's very true that i have been long a faithful servant to the public, but he's a weak man who looks to any reward from the people; and after the experience i have had, i would certainly prove myself to be one of the very weakest, if i thought it was likely, that either anent the piece of plate and the vote of thanks, any body would take a speciality of trouble." to this mr mucklewheel answered, that he was glad to hear such a compliment was intended; "no man," said he, "more richly deserves a handsome token of public respect, and i will surely give the proposal all the countenance and support in my power possible to do." "as to that," i replied, pouring in the rum and helping myself to the warm water, "i entertain no doubt, and i have every confidence that the proposal, when it is made, will be in a manner unanimously approved. but, mr mucklewheel, what's every body's business, is nobody's. i have heard of no one that's to bring the matter forward; it's all fair and smooth to speak of such things in holes and corners, but to face the public with them is another sort of thing. for few men can abide to see honours conferred on their neighbours, though between ourselves, mr mucklewheel, every man in a public trust should, for his own sake, further and promote the bestowing of public rewards on his predecessors; because looking forward to the time when he must himself become a predecessor, he should think how he would feel were he, like me, after a magistracy of near to fifty years, to sink into the humility of a private station, as if he had never been any thing in the world. in sooth, mr mucklewheel, i'll no deny that it's a satisfaction to me to think that may be the piece of plate and the vote of thanks will be forthcoming; at the same time, unless they are both brought to a bearing in a proper manner, i would rather nothing was done at all." "ye may depend on't," said mr mucklewheel, "that it will be done very properly, and in a manner to do credit both to you and the council. i'll speak to bailie shuttlethrift, the new provost, to propose the thing himself, and that i'll second it." "hooly, hooly, friend," quo' i, with a laugh of jocularity, no ill-pleased to see to what effect i had worked upon him; "that will never do; ye're but a greenhorn in public affairs. the provost maun ken nothing about it, or let on that he doesna ken, which is the same thing, for folk would say that he was ettling at something of the kind for himself, and was only eager for a precedent. it would, therefore, ne'er do to speak to him. but mr birky, who is to be elected into the council in my stead, would be a very proper person. for ye ken coming in as my successor, it would very naturally fall to him to speak modestly of himself compared with me, and therefore i think he is the fittest person to make the proposal, and you, as the next youngest that has been taken in, might second the same." mr mucklewheel agreed with me, that certainly the thing would come with the best grace from my successor. "but i doubt," was my answer, "if he kens aught of the matter; ye might however enquire. in short, mr mucklewheel, ye see it requires a canny hand to manage public affairs, and a sound discretion to know who are the fittest to work in them. if the case were not my own, and if i was speaking for another that had done for the town what i have done, the task would be easy. for i would just rise in my place, and say as a thing of course, and admitted on all hands, 'gentlemen, it would be a very wrong thing of us, to let mr mucklewheel, (that is, supposing you were me,) who has so long been a fellow-labourer with us, to quit his place here without some mark of our own esteem for him as a man, and some testimony from the council to his merits as a magistrate. every body knows that he has been for near to fifty years a distinguished character, and has thrice filled the very highest post in the burgh; that many great improvements have been made in his time, wherein his influence and wisdom was very evident; i would therefore propose, that a committee should be appointed to consider of the best means of expressing our sense of his services, in which i shall be very happy to assist, provided the provost will consent to act as chairman.' "that's the way i would open the business; and were i the seconder, as you are to be to mr birky, i would say, "'the worthy councillor has but anticipated what every one was desirous to propose, and although a committee is a very fit way of doing the thing respectfully, there is yet a far better, and that is, for the council now sitting to come at once to a resolution on the subject, then a committee may be appointed to carry that resolution into effect.' "having said this, you might advert first to the vote of thanks, and then to the piece of plate, to remain with the gentleman's family as a monumental testimony of the opinion which was entertained by the community of his services and character." having in this judicious manner primed mr mucklewheel as to the procedure, i suddenly recollected that i had a letter to write to catch the post, and having told him so, "maybe," quo' i, "ye would step the length of mr birky's and see how he is inclined, and by the time i am done writing, ye can be back; for after all that we have been saying, and the warm and friendly interest you have taken in this business, i really would not wish my friends to stir in it, unless it is to be done in a satisfactory manner." mr mucklewheel accordingly went to mr birky, who had of course heard nothing of the subject, but they came back together, and he was very vogie with the notion of making a speech before the council, for he was an upsetting young man. in short, the matter was so set forward, that, on the monday following, it was all over the town that i was to get a piece of plate at my resignation, and the whole affair proceeded so well to an issue, that the same was brought to a head to a wish. thus had i the great satisfaction of going to my repose as a private citizen with a very handsome silver cup, bearing an inscription in the latin tongue, of the time i had been in the council, guildry, and magistracy; and although, in the outset of my public life, some of my dealings may have been leavened with the leaven of antiquity, yet, upon the whole, it will not be found, i think, that, one thing weighed with another, i have been an unprofitable servant to the community. magistrates and rulers must rule according to the maxims and affections of the world; at least, whenever i tried any other way, strange obstacles started up in the opinions of men against me, and my purest intents were often more criticised than some which were less disinterested; so much is it the natural humour of mankind to jealouse and doubt the integrity of all those who are in authority and power, especially when they see them deviating from the practices of their predecessors. posterity, therefore, or i am far mistaken, will not be angered at my plain dealing with regard to the small motives of private advantage of which i have made mention, since it has been my endeavour to show and to acknowledge, that there is a reforming spirit abroad among men, and that really the world is gradually growing better--slowly i allow; but still it is growing better, and the main profit of the improvement will be reaped by those who are ordained to come after us. starry flag series oliver optic the starry flag series, by oliver optic. i. the starry flag; or, the young fisherman of cape ann. ii. freaks of fortune; or, half round the world. iii. breaking away; or, the fortunes of a student. iv. seek and find; or, the adventures of a smart boy. v. make or break; or, the rich man's daughter. vi. down the river; or, buck bradford and his tyrants. [illustration: the banker's private office.--page .] make or break; or, the rich man's daughter. by oliver optic, author of "young america abroad," "the army and navy stories," "the woodville stories," "the boat-club stories," "the riverdale stories," etc. boston lee and shepard publishers entered, according to act of congress, in the year , by william t. adams, in the clerks office of the district court of the district of massachusetts. copyright, , by william t. adams. all rights reserved. make or break. to my young friend kate v. austin this book is affectionately dedicated. preface. "make or break," is the fifth of the serial stories published in "our boys and girls"--a magazine which has become so much the pet of the author, that he never sits down to write a story for it without being impressed by a very peculiar responsibility. twenty thousand youthful faces seem to surround him, crying out for something that will excite their minds, and thrill their very souls, while a calmer, holier voice, speaking in the tones of divine command, breathes gently forth, "feed my lambs." the lambs will not eat dry husks; they loathe the tasteless morsel which well-meaning sectarians offer them, and hunger for that which will warm their hearts and stir their blood. the heart may be warmed, and the blood may be stirred, without corrupting the moral nature. the writer has endeavored to meet this demand in this way, and he is quite sure that the patient, striving, toiling leo, and the gentle, self-sacrificing, and devoted maggie, do nothing in the story which will defile the mind or the heart of the young people. the bible teaches what they sought to practise. he is satisfied that none of his readers will like mr. fitzherbert wittleworth well enough to make him their model. the author is willing the story should pass for what it is worth; and there is no danger that it will be over or undervalued, for the young people are even more critical than their elders. but the favor already bestowed upon it has added to the weight of the writer's obligation to the juvenile reading public; and in giving them the story in its present permanent form, he trusts that it will continue to be not only a source of pleasure, but a stimulus to higher aims, and a more resolute striving for what is worth having both in the moral and material world. william t. adams. harrison square, mass., july , . contents. page chapter i. mr. wittleworth gets shaved chapter ii. boy wanted chapter iii. mr. checkynshaw is violent chapter iv. mr. checkynshaw rushes chapter v. leo maggimore chapter vi. leo's workshop chapter vii. mon pere chapter viii. make or break chapter ix. mr. checkynshaw and family chapter x. the wittleworth family chapter xi. the mouse business chapter xii. leo's wonderful performers chapter xiii. wittleworth _vs._ checkynshaw chapter xiv. mr. checkynshaw is liberal chapter xv. a success in the mouse business chapter xvi. the letter from marguerite chapter xvii. the letter from france chapter xviii. the quitclaim deed chapter xix. five hundred dollars reward chapter xx. an avalanche of good fortune chapter xxi. mr. wittleworth's wrongs chapter xxii. the two marguerites chapter xxiii. the gold locket chapter xxiv. me and choate chapter xxv. the elegant young lady chapter xxvi. the rich man's daughter make or break; or, the rich man's daughter. chapter i. mr. wittleworth gets shaved. "next gentleman!" said andré maggimore, one of the journeyman barbers in the extensive shaving saloon of cutts & stropmore, which was situated near the plutonian temples of state street, in the city of boston. "next gentleman!" repeated andré, in tones as soft and feminine as those of a woman, when no one responded to his summons. "my turn?" asked a spare young man of sixteen, throwing down the post, with a languid air, and rising to his feet. "yes, sir," replied andré, politely; and if the speaker had been out of sight, one would have supposed it was a lady who spoke. "have your hair cut?" "no; shave." the barber seemed to be startled by the announcement, though there was not the faintest smile on his face to discourage the candidate for tonsorial honors. the young man looked important, threw his head back, pursed up his lips, and felt of his chin, on which there was not the slightest suspicion of a beard visible to the naked eye. mr. fitzherbert wittleworth would not have been willing to acknowledge that he had not been shaved for three weeks; but no one could have discovered the fact without the aid of a powerful microscope. mr. wittleworth spread out his attenuated frame in the barber's chair, and dropped his head back upon the rest. andré looked as grave and serious as though he had been called to operate upon the face of one of the venerable and dignified bank presidents who frequented the shop. he was a journeyman barber, and it was his business to shave any one who sat down in his chair, whether the applicant had a beard or not. if andré's voice was soft and musical, his resemblance to the gentler sex did not end there, for his hand was as silky and delicate, and his touch as velvety, as though he had been bred in a boudoir. he adjusted the napkin to the neck of the juvenile customer with the nicest care, and then, from the force of habit, passed his downy hand over the face upon which he was to operate, as if to determine whether it was a hard or a tender skin. several of the customers smiled and coughed, and even the half-dozen journeymen were not unmoved by the spectacle. "what are you going to do, fitz?" asked the occupant of the adjoining chair, who had just straightened himself up to be "brushed off." "i'm going to have a shave," answered mr. wittleworth, as confidently as though the proceedings were entirely regular. "what for?" "to have my beard taken off, of course. what do you shave for?" "put on the cream, and let the cat lick it off." "that's a venerable joke. i dare say the barber did not gap his razor when he shaved you. i always feel better after i have been shaved," added mr. wittleworth, as andré laid a brush full of lather upon his smooth chin. those in the shop chuckled, and some of them were ill-mannered enough to laugh aloud, at the conceit of the young man who thus announced to the world that his beard had grown. even the proprietors of the extensive shaving saloon looked uncommonly good-natured, though it was not prudent for them to rebuke the ambition of the prospective customer. andré lathered the face of the juvenile with as much care as though it had been that of the parsimonious broker at the corner, who shaved only when his beard was an eighth of an inch in length. not satisfied with this preparatory step, he resorted to the process used for particularly hard beards, of rubbing the lather in with a towel wet in hot water; but andré did not smile, or by word or deed indicate that all he was doing was not absolutely necessary in order to give his customer a clean and an easy shave. then he stropped his razor with zealous enthusiasm, making the shop ring with the melody of the thin steel, as he whipped it back and forth on the long strip of soft leather, one end of which was nailed to the case, and the other end held in his hand. the music was doubtless sweet to the listening ears of mr. wittleworth, if not as the prelude of an easy shave, at least as an assurance that all the customary forms had been scrupulously complied with in his individual case. [illustration: mr. wittleworth gets shaved.--page .] slapping the broad-bladed razor on his soft hand, the barber approached the young man in the chair. with a graceful movement he brought the instrument to bear gently on the face. "does it pull, fitz?" asked the tormentor in the next chair. "of course not; andré always gives a man an easy shave," replied mr. wittleworth. "certainly; but some people have tough beards and tender faces." "if your beard is as soft as your head, it won't hurt you to shave with a handsaw," retorted mr. wittleworth. the laugh was at the expense of the tormentor, and he retreated from the shop in the "guffaw," and fitz was permitted to finish his shave in peace--in peace, at least, so far as this particular tormentor was concerned, for a more formidable one assailed him before his departure. andré went over his face with the nicest care; then lathered it again, and proceeded to give it the finishing touches. he was faithful to the end, and gave the juvenile patron the benefit of the entire length and breadth of his art, omitting nothing that could add dignity or perfection to the operation. it was quite certain that, if there was anything like an imperceptible down on his face at the commencement of the process, there was nothing left of it at the end. mr. wittleworth's hair was oiled, moistened with diluted cologne water, combed, brushed, parted, and tossed in wavy flakes over his head, and was as fragrant, glossy, and unctuous as the skill of andré could make it. "one feels more like a christian after a clean shave," said mr. wittleworth, as he rose from the chair, and passed his hand approvingly over his polished chin. "barbers, good barbers, do a missionary work in the world." "what are you doing here, fitz?" demanded a stern-looking gentleman, who had just entered the shop, and stepped up behind the juvenile customer. "i came in to get shaved," replied mr. wittleworth, abashed by the harsh tones. "shaved!" exclaimed mr. checkynshaw, the stern-looking gentleman, well known as the senior partner of the great banking house of checkynshaw, hart, & co. "shaved!" "yes, sir; i came here to be shaved, and i have been shaved," replied the young man, trying to assume an air of bravado, though he was actually trembling in his boots before the lofty and dignified personage who confronted and confounded him. "is this the way you waste your time and your money? i sent you to the post-office, and you have been gone over half an hour." "i had to wait for my turn," pleaded mr. wittleworth. "when i send you to the post-office, you will not loiter away your time in a barber's shop, you conceited puppy. i'll discharge you!" "discharge _me_!" exclaimed mr. wittleworth, stung by the epithet of the banker. "i think not, sir." the young gentleman placed his hat upon his head, canting it over on one side, so as to give him a saucy and jaunty appearance. mr. checkynshaw, whose clerk, or rather "boy," he was, had often scolded him, and even abused him, in the private office of the banking-house, but never before in a place so public as a barber's shop in 'change street, and in 'change hours. he felt outraged by the assault; for mr. wittleworth, as his employer had rather indelicately hinted, had a high opinion of himself. he straightened himself up, and looked impudent--a phase in his conduct which the banker had never before observed, and he stood aghast at this indication of incipient rebellion. "you think not, you puppy!" exclaimed the banker, stamping his feet with rage. "i think not! it wouldn't be a prudent step for you to take," answered mr. wittleworth, stung again by the insulting appellations heaped upon him. "i know rather too much about your affairs to be cast out so thoughtlessly." "i will discharge you this very day!" replied the banker, his teeth set firmly together. "i think you will find that the affairs of messrs. checkynshaw, hart, & co. will not go on so smoothly without me as they do with me," added mr. wittleworth, as he canted his hat over a little more on one side, and pulled up his shirt collar. "without you!" gasped the banker, confounded by the assumption of his employee. "perhaps you will find it so, after you have done your worst." "conceited puppy! i took you into my office out of charity! go to your place. charity can do no more for you." "if you can afford to discharge me, i can afford to be discharged," replied mr. wittleworth, as he stroked his chin, and walked out of the shop. "the young vagabond!" muttered mr. checkynshaw. "i took him to keep his mother from starving. andré," he added, imperiously. the barber with the effeminate voice and the silky hands turned from the customer he was shaving, and bowed politely to the magnate of the house of checkynshaw, hart, & co. "andré, my daughter elinora goes to a juvenile party this evening, and wishes you to dress her hair at four o'clock." "yes, sir; with mr. cutts's permission, i will attend her at that hour." mr. checkynshaw looked as though mr. cutts's permission was not at all necessary when he desired anything; but mr. cutts did not venture to interpose any obstacle to the wish of a person so influential as the banker. mr. checkynshaw turned to leave, went as far as the door, and then returned. "andré," he continued, "you spoke to me of a boy of yours." "my adopted son, sir," replied the barber. "i don't care whether he is your son, or your adopted son. what sort of a boy is he?" "he is a very good boy, sir," answered andré. "can he read and write?" "very well indeed, sir. the master of his school says he will take the medal at the close of the year." "i shall discharge that puppy, and i want a good boy in his place. send him to me at half past two this afternoon." "i beg your pardon, mr. checkynshaw. perhaps i spoke too soon, sir; but i did not want a place for him till next vacation." "send him up, and i will talk with him," said the banker, imperatively and patronizingly, as he hurried out of the shop. he was met at the door by a girl of fifteen, who modestly stepped out of the way to let the magnate pass. she was dressed very plainly, but very neatly, and in her hand she carried a tin pail. the loud talk of the barber's shop politicians and the coarse jests of rude men ceased as she walked behind the long line of chairs to that where andré was at work. she was rather tall for her age; her face was pretty, and her form delicately moulded. she was all gentleness and grace, and rude men were awed by her presence. andré smiled as sweetly as a woman when he saw her, and his eye followed her as she went to the stove, and placed the pail by its side. "maggie, send leo to me as soon as you go home," said he, in the softest of his soft tones, as she left the shop. chapter ii. boy wanted. from the tin kettle, which maggie had placed by the stove, there arose an odor of fried sausages--a savory mess to a hungry man, possessed of a reasonable amount of confidence in the integrity and conscientiousness of sausage-makers in general. andré made himself as useful as possible to his employers, and they could not well spare him in the middle of the day to go home to his dinner, for during 'change hours the shop was full of customers. if there was a lull any time before three o'clock, he ate the contents of the tin pail; if not, he dined at a fashionable hour. andré could not well be spared, because there were certain dignified men, presidents of banks and insurance companies, venerable personages with a hold upon the last generation, who came from their homes in the middle of the day to read the newspapers at the "china," or the "fireman;" staid old merchants, who had retired from active life, and went to the counting-room only to look after the junior partners--men who always shaved down town, and would not let any barber but andré touch their faces. his hand was so soft and silky, his touch so tender and delicate, and his razors were so keen and skilfully handled, that he was a favorite in the shop. years before, andré had set up a shop for himself; but he had no talent for business, and the experiment was a failure. he was too effeminate to control his journeymen, and his shop was not well ordered. all his regular customers insisted on being shaved by andré; and, while he paid the wages of two men, he did all the work himself. the rent and other expenses overwhelmed him; but he had the good sense to sell out before he became involved in debt. there he was, in the shop of cutts & stropmore, and there he was likely to be--a journeyman barber to the end of his mortal pilgrimage. the highest wages were paid him; but andré had no ambition to gratify, and when one week's wages were due, every cent of the earnings of the preceding one was invariably used up. if there was a ten-cent piece left in his pocket on saturday morning, he took care to spend it for something to gratify maggie or leo before he went to the shop. for this boy and girl--though they were not his own children, or even of any blood relation to him--he lived and labored as lovingly and patiently as though god had blessed him in the paternal tie. half an hour after maggie left the shop there was a brief lull in the business, and andré seized his kettle, and bore it to a kind of closet, where hair oils, hair washes, and the "celebrated capillary compound" were concocted. with a sausage in one hand and a penny roll in the other, he ate as a hungry man eats when the time is short. andré's appetite was good, and thus pleasantly was he employed when leo, the barber's adopted son, entered the laboratory of odoriferous compounds. "maggie says you want to see me," said leo. the boy was dressed as neatly as the barber himself, but in other respects he was totally unlike him. he had a sharp, bright eye, and his voice was heavy, and rather guttural, being in the process of changing, for he was fifteen years old. on the books of the grammar school, where he was a candidate for the highest honors of the institution, his name was recorded as leopold maggimore. if leo was his pet name, it was not because he bore any resemblance to the lion, though he was a bold fellow, with no little dignity in his expression. "i sent for you, leo," replied andré, when he had waited long enough after the entrance of the boy to enable us to describe the youth, and himself to dispose of the overplus of fried sausage in his mouth, so that he could utter the words; "mr. checkynshaw spoke to me about you. he wishes to see you at half past two o'clock." "mr. checkynshaw!" exclaimed leo, wondering what the head of the well-known banking house could want with an individual so insignificant as himself. "he wants a boy." "does he want me?" "i suppose he does." "but, father, i shall lose my medal if i leave school now," added leo. "you must not leave now; but you can see mr. checkynshaw, and explain the matter to him. he is a great man, and when you want a place, he may be able to help you." "the cat may look at the king, and i will go and see him; but i don't see what good it will do. fitz wittleworth is there." "he is to be discharged," quietly added andré, as he deposited half a sausage in his mouth. "fitz discharged!" exclaimed leo, opening his eyes. "yes; he has been, or will be to-day." "but what will the firm of checkynshaw, hart, & co. do without him? fitz tells me that he carries on the concern himself." "fitz is conceited; and i think the concern will be able to get along without him." "but he is some relation to mr. checkynshaw." "i think not; the banker says he took him into his office to keep him from starving." "fitz says mr. checkynshaw's first wife was his mother's sister." "that is not a very near relation, and the banker will not tolerate his impudence on that account. no matter about that; mr. checkynshaw wishes to see you at half past two. you can tell him about your medal, and tell him, very respectfully and politely, that you can't leave school. he may like the looks of you, and help you to a place when you do want one." andré did not think it would be possible for any one to see leo without liking the looks of him; and he was quite sure that he would make a favorable impression upon even the cold, stern banker. a call-bell on the case of mr. cutts sounded, and andré hastened back to the shop, having only half satisfied the cravings of his hunger. a customer was already seated in his chair, and he went to work upon him, with his thoughts still following leo to the banker's private office. he had high hopes for that boy. mr. cutts had proposed to take him as an apprentice to the barber's business; but, while andré had no ambition for himself, he had for leo, and he would not think of such a thing as permitting him to follow his trade, which, however honorable and useful did not open to the youth the avenues of fame and fortune. on this important subject leo had some views of his own. he certainly did not wish to be a barber, and he was almost as much opposed to being a banker or a merchant. he wished to be a carpenter or a machinist. he was born to be a mechanic, and all his thoughts were in this direction, though he had not yet decided whether he preferred to work in wood or in iron. but his foster-father had higher aspirations for him, and leo had not the heart to disappoint him, though he continued to hope that, before the time came for him to commence in earnest the business of life, he should be able to convince him that the path to fame and fortune lay in the mechanic arts as well as in commerce and finance. leo walked out into state street, and, by the clock on the old state house, saw that it was too early to call upon the banker. mr. fitzherbert wittleworth did not go to the banker's office when ordered to do so. he went to his mother's house, to tell her that mr. checkynshaw had threatened to discharge him. he had a long talk with her. she was a sensible woman, and reproved his self-conceit, and insisted that he should make peace with the powerful man by a humble apology. "mother, you may eat humble pie at the feet of mr. checkynshaw, if you like; i shall not," replied fitz, as he was familiarly called, though the brief appellative always galled him, and the way to reach his heart was to call him _mr._ wittleworth. "if you get turned off, what will become of us? your father isn't good for anything, and what both of us can earn is hardly enough to keep us from starving," answered the poor woman, whose spirit had long before been broken by poverty, disappointment, and sorrow. "i would rather starve than have the heel of that man on my neck. i have done everything i could for the concern. i have worked early and late, and kept everything up square in the private office; but there is no more gratitude in that man than there is in a truck horse. he don't even thank me for it." "but he pays you wages; and that's enough," replied his more practical mother. "that is not enough, especially when he pays me but five dollars a week. i am worth a thousand dollars a year, at least, to the concern. checkynshaw will find that out after he has discharged me," added mr. wittleworth, pulling up his collar, as was his wont when his dignity was damaged. "go back to him; tell him you are sorry for what you said, and ask him to forgive you," persisted mrs. wittleworth. "this is no time for poor people to be proud. the times are so hard that i made only a dollar last week, and if you lose your place, we must go to the almshouse." "what's the use of saying that, mother?" continued the son. "it seems to me you take pride in talking about our poverty." "it's nothing but the truth," added mrs. wittleworth, wiping the tears from her pale, thin face, which was becoming paler and thinner every day, for she toiled far into the night, making shirts at eight cents apiece. "i have only fifty cents in money left to buy provisions for the rest of the week." "folks will trust you," said fitz, impatiently. "i don't want them to trust me, if i am not to have the means of paying them. it was wrong for you to pay six cents to be shaved; it's silly and ridiculous, to say nothing of leaving the office for half an hour. you did wrong, and you ought to acknowledge it." "mother, i'm tired of this kind of a life." "so am i; but we cannot starve," replied the poor woman, bitterly. "it is harder for me than for you, for i was brought up in plenty and luxury, and never knew what it was to want for anything till your father spent all my property, and then became a burden upon me. you have been a good boy, fitzherbert, and i hope you will not disappoint me now." "i shall do everything i can for you, mother, of course; but it is hard to be ground down by _that_ man, as i am." the young gentleman said _that_ man with an emphasis which meant something. "i cannot help it," sighed the mother. "yes, you can. in my opinion,--and i think i understand the matter as well as any other man,--in my opinion, mr. checkynshaw owes you fifty thousand dollars, and is keeping you out of your just due. that's what galls me," added fitz, rapping the table violently with his fist. "it may be and it may not be. i don't know." "i know! that man is not an honest man. i know something about his affairs, and if he presumes to discharge me, i shall devote some of my valuable time to the duty of ventilating them." "don't you do any such thing, fitz." "i will, mother! i will find out whether the money belongs to you or not," added the young man, decidedly. "i have my private opinion about the matter. i know enough about checkynshaw to feel certain that he wouldn't let fifty thousand dollars slip through his fingers, if by any trickery he could hold on to it. if he has a daughter in france, fifteen years old, as she must be, wouldn't she write to him? wouldn't he write to her? wouldn't he go and see her? wouldn't he send her money? she don't do it; he don't do it. i do all the post-office business for the firm, and no such letters go or come." mr. wittleworth was very decided in his "private opinion;" but at last he so far yielded to the entreaties of his mother as to consent to return to the office, and if mr. checkynshaw wasn't savage, he would apologize. this he regarded as a great concession, very humiliating, and to be made only to please his mother. chapter iii. mr. checkynshaw is violent. mr. fitzherbert wittleworth walked slowly and nervously from his home to the banking-house in state street. the situation was just as far from pleasant as it could be. he did not wish to deprive the family of the necessaries of life, which were purchased with his meagre salary, on the one hand, and it was almost impossible to endure the tyranny of mr. checkynshaw on the other hand. to a young man with so high an opinion of himself as the banker's clerk entertained, the greatest privation to which he could be subjected was a want of appreciation of his personal character and valuable services. the banker had an utter contempt for him personally, and regarded his salary as high at five dollars a week, which was indeed a high rate for a young man of sixteen. mr. checkynshaw sat in his private office, adjoining the banking-house, when mr. wittleworth presented himself. he scowled savagely as the young man entered. "you have concluded to come back--have you?" said he. "yes, sir," replied fitz. "well, sir, you have only come to be discharged; for i will no longer have a stupid and useless blockhead about. i was willing to tolerate you for your mother's sake; but i won't submit to your impudence." stupid and useless blockhead! it was no use to attempt to effect a reconciliation with a person who had, or professed to have, such an opinion of him. not even the strait to which his family was reduced could justify him in submitting to such abuse. "mr. checkynshaw, i don't allow any man to insult me," fitz began. "i have treated you like a gentleman, and i demand as much in return." "insult you? impudent puppy!" gasped mr. checkynshaw. "what are we coming to?" "you insulted me in a public barber's shop. not content with that, you call me a stupid and useless blockhead--_me_, sir." "no more of this! take your pay, and be gone! there's five dollars, a full week's salary for three days' service," added the banker, pushing a five-dollar bill across the desk towards fitz. the young man was not too proud to take it. "go! don't stop here another minute," said the wrathy banker, glancing at the clock, which now indicated the time he had appointed for the coming of leo maggimore. "i am not ready to go just yet. i have a demand to make upon you. you have defrauded my mother out of a fortune." "that will do! not another word," said mr. checkynshaw, turning red in the face. "my mother will take steps to obtain her rights." "will you go?" demanded the banker. "no, sir. i will not till i have said what i have to say. you shall either prove that your first daughter is alive, or you shall deliver to my mother the property." mr. checkynshaw could not endure such speech as this from any man, much less from his discharged clerk. he rose from his chair, and rushed upon the slender youth with a fury worthy a more stalwart foe. grasping him by the collar, he dragged him out of the private office, through the long entry, to the street, and then pitched him far out upon the sidewalk. as he passed through the entry, leo maggimore was going into the banking-office. not knowing the way, he inquired of a person he met in the long hall. leo did not know the banker, and was not aware that the excited gentleman he had seen was he; and he did not recognize fitz in the young man who was so violently hurried before him. he followed the direction given him, and reached the private office of the banker. through an open window he saw the clerks and cashiers rushing to the door to witness the extraordinary scene that was transpiring in the street. taking off his cap, he waited for the appearance of mr. checkynshaw, who, he supposed, had also gone to "see the fun." as he stood there, a jaunty-looking individual hastily entered the office. "what do you want?" asked this person. "i want to see mr. checkynshaw," replied leo. "go through that door, and you will find him," added the jaunty-looking man, in hurried tones. leo, supposing the man belonged there, did as he was directed, and inquired of an elderly clerk, who had not left his desk, for the banker. he was told to wait in the private office, and he returned, as he was bidden. he found the jaunty-looking person taking some papers from the safe. he put a quantity of them into the pockets of his overcoat, locked the heavy iron door, and took out the key. "mr. checkynshaw won't be here again to-day. you will have to call to-morrow," said the man, in sharp and decided business tones. "he sent for me to come to-day at half past two," replied leo. "he was unexpectedly called away; come again to-morrow at this time," added the jaunty person, briskly. "i can't come to-morrow at this hour; school keeps." "come at one, then," replied the business man, who did not seem to care whether school kept or not. "will you tell him, sir, that i came as he wished, and will call again at one to-morrow?" "yes, yes. i will tell him all about it," answered the brisk personage, as he took a small carpet-bag in his hand, and led the way out through the banking-room. the clerks had returned to their desks, and were again busy over their books and papers; for the excitement had subsided, and people went their way as though nothing had happened. the unwonted scene of a man in mr. checkynshaw's position putting a clerk out of his office excited a little comment, and the banker had stopped in the long hall to explain to a bank president the occasion of his prompt and decisive action. leo and the jaunty man passed him as they left the building; but the boy did not know him from adam. "where do you live, my boy?" asked the jaunty man, coming up to him when he had crossed state and entered congress street. "no. phillimore court," replied leo. he had before lost sight of the man, who, he had already concluded, from finding him in the private office and at the safe, was one of the partners in the house of checkynshaw, hart, & co. he could not imagine what a person of so much importance could want of him, or how it concerned him to know where he lived. "is it far from here?" "not very far." "i want the use of a room for five minutes, to change my clothes. i live out of town, and am going to new york to-night. perhaps your mother would let me have a room for a short time," added the person. "i haven't any mother; but you can have my room as long as you like," answered leo, glad to accommodate so important a person. "it isn't a very nice one." "nice enough for me. how far is it?" "close by high street; but it's right on your way to the cars." "very well; thank you. i'm much obliged to you. if it's far off, i can run up to a hotel, for i'm in a hurry. i have no time to spare." the jaunty man walked at a rapid pace, and seemed to be greatly excited, which leo attributed to his proposed journey, or to the pressure of his business. "do you know mr. checkynshaw?" asked the man of business. "no, sir; i never saw him in my life, that i know of," replied leo. "you are one of the partners--are you not?" "yes," replied the jaunty man, promptly. "are you mr. hart, sir?" "that is my name. how did you know me?" "i didn't know you; but i guessed it was mr. hart." they hurried along in silence for a few moments more. leo was thinking, just then, how it would be possible for mr. hart to tell mr. checkynshaw that he had called that day, and that he would call at one the next day, if he was going to new york by the afternoon train. he was quite sure mr. hart could not get back in time to tell the banker that he had obeyed his mandate. he was a little perplexed, and he was afraid the mighty man would be angry with him for not keeping the appointment, and perhaps visit the neglect upon his foster-father. being unable to solve the problem himself, he ventured to ask mr. hart for a solution. "it won't make any difference. mr. checkynshaw will not think of the matter again till he sees you to-morrow," replied mr. hart. "he will have enough to think of when he gets to the office to-morrow without troubling his head about you." "perhaps, as you are his partner, mr. hart, you can do the business just as well," said leo. "very likely i can. what did mr. checkynshaw want of you?" asked the partner. "he is going to discharge fitz, and--" "discharge fitz! what is that for?" demanded mr. hart, as if very much astonished at the intelligence. "i don't exactly understand what for; but he wants me to come in his place; or at least he wants to see me about coming." "well, you seem to be a very likely young fellow, and i have no doubt you will suit us. i am willing to engage you, even after what little i have seen of you." "but i can't go yet, mr. hart," interposed leo. "why not? when can you come?" "i can't go till the first of august; that's what i wanted to tell mr. checkynshaw. he was so kind as to think of me when he wanted a boy; and i want to have it made all right with him. i expect to take one of the franklin medals at the next exhibition, and if i leave now i shall lose it." "that's right, my boy; stick to your school, and i will see that you have a first-rate place when you have taken the medal. haven't we got most to your house?" "just round the corner, sir. i'm afraid mr. checkynshaw will not like it because he did not see me this afternoon." "he was out, and it isn't your fault; but i will tell him all about it when i come back, and he will not think of it again." "but he wants a boy." "well, he can find a hundred of them in an hour's time; and, as you can't take the place, it will make no difference to you. i will make it all right with him so far as you are concerned." "this is my house," said leo, when they reached the dwelling at no. phillimore court. leo opened the front door,--which was indeed the only door,--and led the banker to his own room on the second floor. the gentleman closed the door, and as there was no lock upon it, he placed a chair against it to serve as a fastening. he did not appear to be in a very great hurry now, and it was evident that he did not intend to change his clothes; for, instead of doing so, he took from the pockets of his overcoat the papers and packages he had removed from the safe. he broke the seals on some of the parcels, and opened the papers they contained. he did not stop to read any of them. in a bank book he found a package of bank notes. "three hundred and fifty dollars," muttered he, as he counted the money. "a mean haul!" he examined all the papers, but no more money was discovered. the jaunty man looked as though he was sorely disappointed. he gathered up the papers, rolled them together, and then looked about the little chamber. on one side of it there was a painted chest, which contained leo's rather scanty wardrobe. he raised the lid, and thrust the bundle of papers down to the bottom of it, burying them beneath the boy's summer clothing. closing the chest, he took his carpet-bag, and left the room. leo was waiting for him in the entry; but "mr. hart" was again in a hurry, and could not do anything more than say again he would make it all right with mr. checkynshaw. probably he did not keep his promise. chapter iv. mr. checkynshaw rushes. mr. checkynshaw felt that he had fully vindicated his personal dignity, and that of the well-known house whose head he was. the bank president he met in the entry did not think so, but believed that a person of such eminent gravity ought to call a policeman, instead of making himself ridiculous by resorting to violence. the banker explained, and then returned to his office. he was alone; and, seating himself in his cushioned chair, he gave himself up to the reflections of the moment, whatever they were. whether the grave charges and the angry threats of mr. fitzherbert wittleworth were the subject of his thoughts was known only to himself; but as he reflected, the muscles of his mouth moved about, his brow contracted, and he seemed to be mentally defending himself from the charges, and repelling the threats. certainly the bold accusation of the banker's late clerk had produced an impression, and stirred up the anger of the great man; but it was very impolitic for the discharged clerk to "beard the lion in his den." the safe in the private office contained the valuable papers of the banker, while those of the firm whose head he was were placed in the vaults of the great banking-room. he kept the key of this safe himself. if it ever went into the hands of the clerk, it was only to bring it from the lock-drawer in the vaults; he was never trusted to deposit it there. mr. checkynshaw did not look at the safe till he had thoroughly digested the affair which had just transpired. when he was ready to go home to dinner, just before three o'clock, he went to the safe to lock it, and secure the key where prying curiosity could not obtain it. it was not in the door, where he had left it; but this did not startle him. his thoughts appeared to be still abstracted by the subject which had occupied them since the affray, and he was walking mechanically about the office. he went to the safe as much from the force of habit as for any reason, for he always secured it when he was about to leave. "charles!" he called, raising one of the ground-glass windows between the office and the banking-room. the door opened, and one of the younger clerks presented himself. "bring me the key of this safe from the drawer in the vault." charles bowed, and mr. checkynshaw continued to walk back and forth, absorbed in thought. "the key of the safe is not in the drawer, sir," replied the clerk. the banker tried the safe door, and then felt in all his pockets. the safe was locked, but he had not the key. he went to the vault himself, but with no better success than the clerk had had. "the puppy!" muttered the banker. "he has stolen that key!" mr. checkynshaw's lips were compressed, and his teeth were set tight together. he paced the room more rapidly than before. "fudge!" exclaimed he, after he had worked himself into a state of partial frenzy, as the hard muscles of his face suddenly relaxed, and something like a smile rested upon his lips. "he couldn't have done it." certainly not. the banker had not opened the safe till after his return from the barber's shop, where he had reproved his clerk, and fitz did not go near the safe during the sharp interview in the office. "burnet," said the banker, going to the open window. this time the elderly man, to whom leo maggimore had applied, presented himself. "have you seen the key of my safe?" demanded mr. checkynshaw. "no, sir." "where is it, then?" "i do not know, sir," replied burnet, whose communications were always "yea, yea; nay, nay." "i have discharged fitz." burnet bowed. "he was saucy." burnet bowed again. "i kicked him out for his impudence." burnet bowed a third time. "my key is gone." burnet waited. "but the safe is locked." burnet glanced at the safe. "who has been in my office?" "a boy, sir." "who?" "i don't know, sir; he asked for you. i sent him to your office." "that was the barber's boy." burnet bowed: he never wasted words; never left his desk to see a row or a military company, and would not have done so if an earthquake had torn up the pavement of state street, so long as the banking-house of checkynshaw, hart, & co. was undisturbed. "who else?" asked the banker. "a man, sir." "who?" "i don't know; he entered by your private door; the boy and the man went out together." "send for the safe people." burnet bowed, and retired. in half an hour two men from the safe manufactory appeared. they opened the iron door, and the banker turned pale when he found that his valuable papers had been abstracted. the three hundred and fifty dollars which "mr. hart" had taken was of no consequence, compared with the documents that were missing; for they were his private papers, on which other eyes than his own must not look. the safe men fitted a new key, altering the wards of the lock, so that the old one would not open the door. what remained of the papers were secured; but those that were gone were of more importance than those that were left. mr. checkynshaw groaned in spirit. the threats of mr. fitzherbert wittleworth seemed to have some weight now, and that young gentleman suddenly became of more consequence than he had ever been before. fitz could not have stolen these papers himself, but he might have been a party to the act. "burnet!" called the banker. the old clerk came again. nothing ever excited or disturbed him, and that was what made him so reliable as a financial clerk and cashier. he never made any mistakes, never overpaid any one, and his cash always "balanced." "what shall i do? my private papers have been stolen!" said the banker, nervously. "who was the man that came out of the office?" "i don't know, sir." "what was he like?" demanded mr. checkynshaw, impatiently. "well-dressed, rowdyish, foppish." "and the boy?" "fourteen or fifteen--looked well." "send for andré maggimore, the barber." burnet bowed and retired. charles was sent to the saloon of cutts & stropmore; but it was four o'clock, and andré had gone to dress the hair of elinora checkynshaw. the banker was annoyed, vexed, angry. he wanted to see the boy who had left the office with the man "well-dressed, rowdyish, foppish." he did not know where leo lived, and the barber had no business to be where he could not put his hand on him when wanted. impatiently he drew on his overcoat, rushed out of the office, and rushed into the shop of cutts & stropmore. mr. cutts did not know where andré lived, and mr. stropmore did not know. andré was always at the shop when he was wanted there, and they had no occasion to know where he lived. probably they had known; if they had, they had forgotten. it was somewhere in high street, or in some street or court that led out of high street, or somewhere near high street; at any rate, high street was in the direction. there was nothing in this very definite information that afforded mr. checkynshaw a grain of comfort. he was excited; but, without telling the barbers what the matter was, he rushed up state street, up court street, up pemberton square, to his residence. he wanted a carriage; but of course there was no carriage within hailing distance, just because he happened to want one. he reached his home out of breath; but then his key to the night-latch would not fit, just because he was excited and in a hurry. he rang the bell furiously. lawrence, the man servant, was eating his dinner, and he stopped to finish his pudding. the banker rang again; but lawrence, concluding the person at the door was a pedler, with needles or a new invention to sell, finished the pudding--pedlers ring with so much more unction than other people. the banker rang again. fortunately for the banker, more fortunately for himself, lawrence had completely disposed of the pudding, and went to the door. "what are you about, you blockhead? why don't you open the door when i ring?" stormed the banker. "i think the bell must be out of order, sir," pleaded lawrence, who had heard it every time it rang. "go and get a carriage, quick! if you are gone five minutes i'll discharge you!" added the great man, fiercely, as he rushed into the parlor. "you are late to dinner," said mrs. checkynshaw. "don't talk to me about dinner! where is elinora?" "why, what is the matter?" asked the lady, not a little alarmed by the violent manner of the husband. "matter enough! where is elinora? answer me, and don't be all day about it!" "in her dressing-room. andré, the hair-dresser, is with her." mr. checkynshaw rushed up stairs, and rushed into the apartment where andré was curling the hair of a pale, but rather pretty young lady of twelve. his abrupt appearance and his violent movements startled the nervous miss, so that, in turning her head suddenly, she brought one of her ears into contact with the hot curling-tongs with which the barber was operating upon her flowing locks. "o, dear! mercy! you have killed me, andré!" screamed elinora, as her father bolted into the room. "i beg your pardon, miss checkynshaw," pleaded andré. "you have burned me to death! how you frightened me, pa!" gasped the young lady. "mind what you are about, andré!" exclaimed the banker, sternly, as he examined the ear, which was not badly damaged. "the young lady moved her head suddenly. it was really not my fault, sir," added andré. "yes, it was your fault, andré," replied elinora, petulantly. "you mean to burn me to death." "i assure you, mademoiselle--" "where do you live, andré?" demanded the banker, interrupting him. "phillimore court, no. ," replied the barber. "i want you to go there with me at once," bustled the banker. "is your boy--what's his name?" "leo, sir." "leo. is he at home?" "i think he is. do you wish to see him, sir?" "i do. come with me, and be quick!" "leo would not be able to serve you, sir; he cannot leave his school." "i want to see him; my safe has been robbed, and your boy was with the man who did it." "leo!" gasped the barber, dropping his hot iron upon the floor, and starting back, as though a bolt of lightning had blasted him. "yes; but come along! i tell you i'm in a hurry!" snapped mr. checkynshaw. "he can't go now, pa," interposed the daughter. "he must finish dressing my hair." "he shall return in a short time, elinora," replied the banker. "he shall not go!" added she, decidedly, and with an emphasis worthy of an only daughter. "leo!" murmured the poor barber, apparently crushed by the terrible charge against the boy. "no. phillimore court, you say," continued the banker, as he moved towards the door, yielding to the whim of the spoiled child. the barber did not answer. his eyes rolled up in his head; he staggered and fell upon the floor. elinora shrieked in terror, and was hurried from the room by her father. chapter v. leo maggimore. andre maggimore had an apoplectic fit. perhaps the immense dinner he had eaten in the shop had some connection with his malady; but the shock he received when the banker told him that leo was implicated in the robbery of the safe was the immediate exciting cause. andré was a great eater, and took but little exercise in the open air, and was probably predisposed to the disease. the dark shadow of trouble which the banker's words foreboded disturbed the circulation, and hastened what might otherwise have been longer retarded. doubtless mr. checkynshaw thought it was very inconsiderate in andré maggimore to have an attack of apoplexy in his house, in the presence of his nervous daughter, and especially when he was in such a hurry to ascertain what had become of his valuable private papers. if the banker was excited before, he was desperate now. he rang the bells furiously, and used some strong expressions because the servants did not appear as soon as they were summoned. lawrence had gone for the carriage, and one of the female servants was sent for the doctor. mr. checkynshaw handed his daughter over to her mother, who also thought it was very stupid for the barber to have a fit before such a nervous miss as elinora. the banker returned to the room in which andré lay. he turned him over, and wished he was anywhere but in his house, which was no place for a sick barber. but the doctor immediately came to his relief. he examined the patient; andré might live, and might die--a valuable opinion; but the wisest man could have said no more. mr. checkynshaw could not afford to be bothered by the affair any longer. he had pressing business on his hands. he directed the doctor to do all that was necessary, and to have his patient removed to his own residence as soon as practicable. after assuring himself that elinora had neither been burned to death nor frightened to death, he stepped into the carriage, and ordered the driver to take him to no. phillimore court. the banker was very much annoyed by the awkwardness of the circumstances. he judged from what andré had said, that he was much attached to his foster-son, and he concluded that leo was equally interested in his foster-father. it was not pleasant to tell the boy that the barber had fallen in a fit, and might die from the effects of it; and if he did, leo might not be able to give him the information he needed. it would confuse his mind, and overwhelm him with grief. mr. checkynshaw could not see why poor people should grieve at the sickness or death of their friends, though it was a fact they did so, just like rich people of sensibility and cultivation. he thought of this matter as the driver, in obedience to his mandate, hurried him to phillimore court. if he told leo, there would be an awkward scene, and he would be expected to comfort the poor boy, instead of worming out of him the dry facts of the robbery. if he had ever heard of maggie, he had forgotten all about her. had he thought of her, the circumstances would have appeared still more awkward. he had already decided not to inform leo of the sudden illness of his father. when he reached the humble abode of the barber, and his summons at the door was answered by the fair maggie, he was the more determined not to speak of the calamity which had befallen them. leo was at home; but it would be disagreeable to examine him in his own house, and in the presence of maggie. he changed his tactics at once, and desired the boy to ride up to his office with him. leo wondered what mr. checkynshaw could want of him at that time of day. it was strange that a person of his consequence had thought of him at all; and even "mr. hart" had proved to be a false prophet. he concluded that the banker had discharged fitz, and needed a boy at once; but the gentleman was too imperative to be denied, and leo did not venture to object to anything he proposed. he followed the great man into the carriage, and regarded it as a piece of condescension on his part to permit a poor boy like him to ride in the same vehicle with him. mr. checkynshaw did not speak till the carriage stopped before the banking-house in state street; and leo was too much abashed by the lofty presence of the great man to ask any question, or to open the subject which he supposed was to be discussed in the private office. he followed the banker into that apartment, thinking only of the manner in which he should decline to enter the service of his intended employer before the completion of his school year. "burnet," said mr. checkynshaw, opening the window of the banking-room. the old cashier entered, and bowed deferentially to the head of the house. "send for mr. clapp," added the banker; and burnet bowed and retired, like an approved courtier. leo was not at all familiar with the police records, and had not learned that mr. clapp was the well-known constable,--the "old reed" or the "old hayes" of his day and generation,--and the name had no terrors to him. "boy, what is your name?" demanded mr. checkynshaw, when the door had closed behind the cashier. "leopold maggimore, sir," replied he. "leopold," repeated the banker. "i am generally called leo, sir." "did the barber--your father, if he is your father--send you to my office to-day?" "yes, sir; he sent me, and i came; but you were not in." "why didn't you wait for me?" "i was told you would not be back again to-day, sir." "what time were you here?" "at half past two, sir. there was some trouble in the entry at the time. a gentleman had a young fellow by the collar, and was putting him out of the building." "just so. who was the gentleman?" "i don't know, sir; i didn't see his face." "i was that gentleman." "i didn't know it, sir. it was just half past two, and i wanted to be on time." "who told you i should not be back again?" demanded the banker more sternly than he had before spoken. "mr. hart," replied leo, who regarded his informant as excellent authority. "mr. hart!" exclaimed mr. checkynshaw, staring into the bright eyes of leo to detect any appearance of deception. the banker prided himself upon his shrewdness. he believed that, if there was any person in the world who was peculiarly qualified to expose the roguery of a suspected individual, he was that person. in conducting the present examination he only wanted derastus clapp for the terror of his name, rather than his professional skill as a detective. mr. checkynshaw believed that he had intrapped his victim. mr. hart could not have told leo that the head of the house would not return to the office that day, for the very simple reason that mr. hart was dead and gone. the old style of the firm was retained, but the hart was gone out of it. the boy was telling a wrong story, and the banker laid his toils for unveiling the details of a gigantic conspiracy. fitz lived somewhere in the vicinity of high street,--mr. checkynshaw did not know where, for it would not be dignified for a great man like him to know where his clerk resided,--and it was more than possible that leo and he were acquainted. very likely the innocent-looking youth before him was an accomplice of fitz, who, since the disappearance of the papers, had really become a terrible character. "yes, sir; mr. hart told me," repeated leo, who could not see anything so very strange in the circumstance. "mr. hart told you!" said the banker, again, endeavoring to overwhelm the boy by the intensity of his gaze. "yes, sir, mr. hart." "was mr. hart in this office?" "yes, sir." "what was mr. hart doing?" "he wasn't doing anything. i was standing here waiting for you when he came in." "which way did he come in?" interrupted the banker. "the same way we did just now," added leo, pointing to the door which opened into the long entry. "very well; go on." "he told me to go into the big room," continued leo, pointing to the banking-room. "i went in there, and asked the man that just came in here for you." "you asked burnet for me?" "i didn't know what his name was; but it was the man you just called in here." "burnet; go on." "he told me to come in here and wait for you." "burnet told you so?" "yes, sir; and when i came back, mr. hart was taking some papers and things from that safe, and putting them in the pocket of his overcoat. then he locked the safe, and put the key in his pocket." "go on," said mr. checkynshaw, excited by these details. "then mr. hart told me mr. checkynshaw would not be in again to-day, and i must come again to-morrow." "what then?" "i went out through the big room, and he came right after me." leo, without knowing why he was required to do so, described in full all that had taken place after he left the banking-room till "mr. hart" had changed his clothes, and left the house of andré. "how did you know this person was mr. hart?" asked the banker. "he told me so, sir. i asked him before we got to my house if he was mr. hart, and he said he was. when he told me mr. checkynshaw was not in, and i saw him take the things out of the safe, and put the key in his pocket, i knew he belonged here, and being in this office, i guessed it was mr. hart. he promised to get me a good place when i leave school, and to explain the matter to you, and make it all right, when he came back from new york." "perhaps he will do so," added mr. checkynshaw, with a sneer. but the banker was completely "nonplussed." he found it difficult to believe that this boy had anything to do with the robbery of his safe. at this point in the investigation, mr. clapp arrived. it was now quite dark. most of the clerks in the banking-room had left; but burnet was called, and instructed to remain with leo, while the banker and the detective held a conference in the next room. leo could not tell what it was all about. not a word had been said about a boy to fill fitz's place. he asked burnet what mr. checkynshaw wanted of him; but the cashier was dumb. after the banker had told the officer all about the affair, they went into the private office, and leo was subjected to a long and severe questioning. then he learned that "mr. hart" was not mr. hart, and that the safe had been plundered. he was filled with astonishment, not to say horror; but every answer he gave was straightforward, and at the end of it the skilled detective declared that he had had nothing to do with the robbery. "do you know fitz wittleworth?" demanded mr. checkynshaw, sharply. "yes, sir." "did he ever say anything to you about me?" "i have heard him call you old checkynshaw; but he never said anything that i can remember, except that you couldn't get along in your business without him." "did he ever say anything about any papers of mine?" asked the banker, scowling fiercely. "no, sir." the banker plied leo with questions in this direction; but he failed to elicit anything which confirmed his fears. a carriage was called, and mr. checkynshaw and the constable, taking leo with them, were driven to the house of the barber. chapter vi. leo's workshop. when the banker and the detective reached the barber's house, the supper table was waiting for andré and leo. perhaps mr. checkynshaw wondered how even a poor man could live in such a small house, with such "little bits of rooms." it had been built to fill a corner, and it fitted very snugly in its place. andré thought it was the nicest house in boston, and for many years it had been a palace to him. it contained only four rooms, two on each floor. the two rooms up stairs were appropriated to the use of maggie and leo. the front room down stairs was required to do double duty, as a parlor, and a sleeping-room for andré; but the bedstead was folded up into a secretary during the day. in the rear of this was the "living room." in the winter the parlor was not used, for the slender income of the barber would not permit him to keep two fires. in this apartment, which served as a kitchen, dining and sitting room, was spread the table which waited for andré and leo. the barber almost always came home before six o'clock; for, in the vicinity of state street, all is quiet at this hour, and the shop was closed. maggie sat before the stove, wondering why andré did not come; but she was not alarmed at his non-appearance, for occasionally he was called away to dress a lady's hair, or to render other "professional" service at the houses of the customers. certainly she had no suspicion of the fearful truth. she was rather startled when the unexpected visitors were ushered into the room by leo; but the detective was gentle as a lamb, and even the banker, in the presence of one so fair and winning as maggie, was not disposed to be rude or rough. mr. clapp asked some questions about the man who had come to the house that afternoon, and gone up to leo's room. she had seen him, and her description of his appearance and his movements did not differ from that of her brother. no new light was obtained; but mr. clapp desired to visit the apartment which "mr. hart" had used. leo conducted the visitors to this room. it was possible, if the robber had changed his clothes there, that he had left something which might afford some clew to his identity. the detective searched the chamber, but not very carefully. as he did so, he told leo that he desired to clear him from any connection with the crime. "i hadn't anything to do with it, and i don't know anything about the man," replied leo, blushing deeply. "i don't think you had, my boy," added the officer, candidly. "but this man may have hidden something in the house, without your knowledge." "i hope you will find it if he did. you may search the house from cellar to garret, if you like; but he didn't go into any room but this one." "how long was he in this room?" "not more than twenty minutes, i guess; i don't know." "where were you while he was here?" "i was down cellar." "down cellar!" exclaimed mr. checkynshaw. "all the time he was in the room?" "yes, sir." "what were you doing there?" "i was at work there. when i heard mr. hart, or the man, whatever his name is, coming down stairs, i went up and met him in the entry. you can go down cellar, if you like." "i think we will," said mr. checkynshaw. the detective looked into the bed, under it, in the closets, drawers, and into the seaman's chest which contained leo's wardrobe. he did not expect to find anything, and his search was not very thorough. he examined the till, and felt in the clothing; but he did not put his hand down deep enough to find the papers the robber had deposited there. if the rogue had left anything, he had no object in concealing it; and mr. clapp reasoned that he would be more likely to leave it in sight than to hide it. when the search had been finished in the room, and the result was as the detective anticipated, leo led the way to the cellar. here was presented to the visitors a complete revelation of the boy's character and tastes--a revelation which assured the skilful detective, deeply versed as he was in a knowledge of human nature, that leo was not a boy to be in league with bad men, or knowingly to assist a robber in disposing of his ill-gotten booty. the cellar or basement was only partly under ground, and there was room enough for two pretty large windows at each end, the front and rear of the house, and in the daytime the apartment was as light and cheerful as the rooms up stairs. across the end, under the front windows, was a workbench, with a variety of carpenter's tools, few in number, and of the most useful kind. on the bench was an unfinished piece of work, whose intended use would have puzzled a philosopher, if several similar specimens of mechanism, completed and practically applied, had not appeared in the cellar to explain the problem. on the wall of the basement, and on a post in the centre of it, supported by brackets, were half a dozen queer little structures, something like miniature houses, all of them occupied by, and some of them swarming with, _white mice_. in the construction of these houses, or, as andré facetiously called them, "_les palais des mice_," leo displayed a great deal of skill and ingenuity. he was a natural-born carpenter, with inventive powers of a high order. he not only made them neatly and nicely, but he designed them, making regular working plans for their construction. the largest of them was about three feet long. at each end of a board of this length, and fifteen inches in width, was a box or house, seven inches deep, to contain the retiring rooms and nests of the occupants of the establishment. each of these houses was three stories high, and each story contained four apartments, or twenty-four in the whole palace. the space between the two houses was open in front, leaving an area of twenty-two by fifteen inches for a playground, or grand parade, for the mice. the three sides of this middle space were filled with shelves or galleries, from which opened the doors leading into the private apartments. the galleries were reached by inclined planes, cut like steps. monsieur souris blanc passed from the gallery into one room, and from this apartment to another, which had no exterior door, thus securing greater privacy, though on the outside was a slide by which the curious proprietor of the palace could investigate the affairs of the family. madame souris blanche, who considerately added from four to a dozen little ones to the population of the colony every three or four weeks, apparently approved this arrangement of rooms, though it was observed that three or four mothers, notwithstanding the multiplicity of strictly private apartments, would bring up their families in the same nest, cuddled up in the same mass of cotton wool. over the "grand parade" was a roof, which prevented the mice from getting out over the tops of the nest-houses. though this space was open in front, and the play-ground protected only by a fence an inch high, the little creatures seldom fell out, for it was five feet to the floor of the cellar, and this was a giddy height for them to look down. this establishment contained fifty or sixty white mice--from the venerable grandfather and grandmother down to the little juveniles two weeks old, to say nothing of sundry little ones which had not appeared on the "grand parade," and which looked like bits of beef, or more like pieces of a large fish worm. other establishments on the wall contained smaller numbers; and, though it was impossible to count them, there were not less than a hundred and fifty white mice in the basement. when leo conducted the visitors to the cellar, all the tribes of mice were in the highest enjoyment of colonial and domestic bliss. though most of them scampered to their lairs when the gentlemen appeared, they returned in a moment, looked at the strangers, snuffed and stared, and then went to work upon the buckwheat and canary seed, which leo gave them as a special treat. squatting on their hind legs, they picked up grains or seeds, and holding them in their fore paws, like squirrels, picked out the kernels. [illustration: leo's workshop.--page .] in other houses, they were chasing each other along the galleries, performing various gymnastics on the apparatus provided for the purpose, or revolving in the whirligigs that some of the cages contained. it was after dark; and, having reposed during the day, they were full of life and spirit at night. the detective was delighted, and even mr. checkynshaw for a few moments forgot that his valuable papers had been stolen. both of them gazed with interest at the cunning movements and the agile performances of the little creatures. "i see why you remained down cellar so long," said the detective, with a smile. "i was at work on that mouse-house," replied leo, pointing to the bench. the palace in process of construction was somewhat different from the others. instead of being open in front of the "grand parade," it had a glass door, so that the occupants of the establishment could be seen, but could not fall out. "what is that one for?" asked mr. clapp. "i'm making that for mr. stropmore," answered leo. "i gave him one lot, but his cat killed them all. the cat can't get at them in this house, and they can't fall out." "elinora would like to see them," said mr. checkynshaw, graciously. "i should be very glad to show them to her, or to give her as many of them as she wants," replied leo. "perhaps she will come and see them. but, mr. clapp, we must attend to business." the detective was in no hurry to attend to business, so interested was he in the performances of the mice. he was quite satisfied that a boy whose thoughts were occupied as leo's were could not be implicated in the robbery. the banker led the way up stairs, and leo was questioned again. he described the rogue once more, and was sure he should know him if he saw him again. the banker said he would call and see mrs. wittleworth and her son, while the detective was to take the night train for new york, where "mr. hart" was supposed to have gone. the officer, who knew all the rogues, was confident, from the description, that the thief was "pilky wayne," a noted "confidence man." the theft was according to his method of operation. "where do you suppose father is?" asked maggie, as leo was about to leave the house to show mr. checkynshaw where mrs. wittleworth lived. "it is after seven o'clock, and he is never so late as this." "i don't know," replied leo. "i haven't seen him since one o'clock." the banker was disturbed by the question. it would be annoying to tell such a pretty and interesting young lady, poor girl though she was, that her father was very ill. it would make a "scene," and he would be expected to comfort her in her great grief. "your father--is he your father, miss?" asked he, doubtfully. "he is just the same. he adopted both leo and me," replied maggie. "he went to my house, this afternoon, to dress my daughter's hair," added mr. checkynshaw; and there was something in his manner which disturbed the fair girl. "is he there now?" "yes, i think he is. my people will take good care of him." "why, what do you mean, sir?" demanded maggie. "take good care of him?" "he had an ill turn this afternoon." "my father!" exclaimed maggie. "i sent for the doctor, and he has had good care," added the banker, as soothingly as he could speak, which, however, was not saying much. "what ails him?" "well, it was an attack of apoplexy, paralysis, or something of that kind." "my poor father!" ejaculated maggie, her eyes filling with tears. "i must go to him at once." maggie took down her cloak and hood, and put them on. chapter vii. mon pere. maggie's ideas of apoplexy or paralysis were not very definite, and she only understood that something very terrible had happened to her foster-father, whom she loved as though he had been her real parent. leo was hardly less affected, though, being a boy, his susceptibility was not so keen. his first feeling was one of indignation that the banker had not told him before of the misfortune which had overtaken the family. it was cruel to have kept maggie from her father a single moment longer than was necessary. "where is poor father now?" asked maggie, as she adjusted her hood, and wiped the tears from her eyes. "he is at my house; but you need not worry about him," replied mr. checkynshaw. "the doctor has attended to his case, and he shall have everything he needs." "where do you live, sir?" asked leo. "no.--pemberton square." "come, maggie, we will go to him," added the boy. "i want you to go with me, and show me where fitz lives," interposed the banker. "he lives at no.--atkinson street, up the court," answered leo, rather coolly, as he picked up his cap and comforter. "i want you to show me the house." "i must go with maggie." mr. checkynshaw looked as though the barber's serious illness was of no consequence, compared with his affairs. "we can go that way, leo, and you can show him the house as we pass through atkinson street," said maggie, leading the way to the door. this arrangement was satisfactory to the banker; the house was locked, and leo led the way out of the court. the humble abode of mrs. wittleworth was pointed out to mr. checkynshaw; and, after he had been admitted, leo and maggie hastened to pemberton square, so sad and sorrowful that hardly a word was spoken till they reached the lofty mansion of the great man. with trembling hand leo rang the bell; and maggie's slender frame quivered with apprehension while they waited for a reply to the summons. lawrence answered the bell more promptly than when its call had disturbed him at his dinner. "is andré maggimore here?" asked leo, timidly. "who?" demanded lawrence. "andré maggimore--the barber--the hair-dresser," replied leo. "you mane the man that had the fit," added the servant. "indade, he's here, thin." "how is he?" asked maggie, her heart bounding with fear lest she should be told that her poor father was no more. "he's a little better; but the docthor says it'll be a long day till he is able to handle his razors again. what's this he called the disase? the para-_ly_-sis! that's just what it is!" "poor _mon père_!" sighed maggie. "we would like to see him, if you please," added leo. "and who be you? are you his children?" asked lawrence. "we are." "i'm sorry for you; but he's very bad," added lawrence, who had an irish heart under his vest, as he closed the front door. "is he--will he--" poor maggie could not ask the question she desired to ask, and she covered her face and wept. "no, he won't," replied lawrence, tenderly. "he won't die. the docthor says he's comin' out of it; but the para-_ly_-sis will bodther him for a long time." maggie was comforted by this reply, and she followed lawrence up stairs to the chamber where andré lay. he had been conveyed from elinora's dressing-room to an apartment in the l, over the dining-room, where the banker and his friends smoked their cigars after dinner. he was lying on a lounge, covered with blankets, and the housekeeper was attending him. "poor _mon père_!" exclaimed maggie, as she threw herself on her knees on the floor by the side of the sick man's couch, and kissed his pale, thin face. [illustration: poor mon pÈre.--page .] leo bent over his father's prostrate form, and clasped one of his silky hands, which now felt so cold that the touch chilled his heart. the doctor had just come in to pay his patient a second visit, and stood by the lounge, regarding with interest the devotion of the boy and girl. andré had "come out" of the fit, and recognized his children, as he always called them. he smiled faintly, and tried to return the pressure of leo's hand, and to kiss the lips of maggie, pressed to his own; but his strength was not yet equal to his desire. "i think it would be better to remove him to the hospital," said the doctor to the housekeeper. "he will be well nursed there." "no, no, no!" exclaimed maggie, rising and walking up to the physician. her idea of the hospital was not a very clear one, and she did not consider it much better than a prison; at least, it was to her a place where sick people who had neither home nor friends were sent; a place where other hands than her own would lave her father's fevered brow, and administer the cooling draught. to her it was sacrilege to permit any but herself to nurse him; and she felt that it was a privilege to stand day and night by his bed, and hold his hand, and anticipate all his wants. her womanly instincts were strong, and she heard with horror the suggestion to take the sufferer to the hospital. "your father would be very kindly cared for at the hospital," said the doctor. "but it would not be his own home!" pleaded maggie. "o, he so loves his own home! he always staid there when he was not in the shop. it would break his heart to send him away from his own home when he is sick." "have you a mother?" asked dr. fisher, kindly. "i have not; but i will nurse him by day and night. i will be mother, wife, and daughter to him. do not send him away from me--not from his own home!" continued maggie, so imploringly that the good physician had to take off his spectacles and wipe the moisture from his eyes. "we will take good care of him at home," added leo. "very well," replied the doctor. "he shall be removed to his own home, since you desire it so much. lawrence, will you send for a carriage?" "i will, sir," answered the servant, leaving the room. andré had turned his eyes towards the group, and appeared to understand the matter they were discussing. he smiled as he comprehended the decision, and made an effort to embrace maggie, when she again knelt at his side; but a portion of his frame was paralyzed, and he could not move. "your father may be sick a long time," said dr. fisher. "i'm so sorry! but i will take such good care of him!" replied maggie. "he needs very careful nursing." "o, he shall have it! he would rather have me nurse him than any other person. i will watch him all the time. i will sit by his bed all day and all night," added she, with womanly enthusiasm. "you will wear yourself out. you are not strong enough to do without your sleep." "i am very strong, sir. i do all the work in the house myself. i know how to make gruel, and porridge, and beef tea, and soup; and _mon père_ shall have everything nice." the doctor smiled, and felt sure that no better nurse could be provided for the sick man. "where is your mother?" he asked. "is she living?" "i have no mother. leo has no mother. we are not andré's own children; but we love him just the same, and he loves us just the same." "but who was your mother?" "i don't know." "doesn't andré know?" "he does not." "you have some kind of a history, i suppose," added the doctor, greatly interested in the girl. "_mon père_ don't like to talk about it. he seems to be afraid that some one will get me away from him; but i'm sure i don't want to go away from him; i wouldn't leave him for a king's palace." "why do you call him '_mon père_'?" "he taught me to call him so when i was little. andré's father was an italian, and his mother a french woman; but he was born in london." "where did he find you?" "at the cholera hospital." "where?" "i don't know. he always looked so sad, and his heart seemed to be so pained when i asked him any questions about myself, that i stopped doing so long ago. when i was five years old, he found me playing about the hospital, where hundreds and hundreds of people had died with cholera. i had the cholera myself; and he came to play with me every day; and when they were going to send me to an orphan asylum, or some such place, he took me away, and promised to take care of me. ah, _mon père_" said she, glancing tenderly at the sick man, and wiping a tear from her eyes, "how well he has kept his promise! i can't help thinking he loved me more than any real father could. i never saw any father who was so kind, and tender, and loving to his child as andré is to me." "and you don't know where this hospital was?" "no, sir; and i don't want to know. _mon père_ thinks my parents died of the cholera; but andré has been father and mother to me. he would die if he lost me." "and your brother--was he taken from the cholera hospital?" asked the doctor. "no, sir," replied maggie, rising and speaking in a whisper to the physician, so that leo should not hear what she said. "andré had to leave me all alone when he went to the shop, and he went to the almshouse to find a poor orphan to keep me company. he found leo, whose father and mother had both died from drinking too much. he took him home, and _mon père_ has been as good to him as he has to me." "his name is leo--the lion?" "no, sir; not the lion. _mon père_ called him leopold, after the king of belgium, in whose service he once was; but we always call him leo. he is a real good boy, and will get the medal at his school this year." "the carriage has come, sir," said lawrence, opening the door. the arrangements were made for the removal of the barber to his house. the hackman and the man servant came to carry him down stairs in an armchair, and the doctor was to go with his patient, and assist in disposing of him at his house. andré was placed in the chair, covered with blankets, and the door opened in readiness to carry him down. maggie kept close to him, comforting him with the kindest words, and adjusting the blanket so that the rude blasts of winter might not reach him. "lawrence!" called elinora, in a petulant tone, from the dressing-room on the same floor. under the circumstances, lawrence was not disposed to heed the call; but it was so often and so ill-naturedly repeated, that dr. fisher told him to go and see what she wanted, fearful that some accident had happened to her. the man went into the hall. elinora had come out of her room in her impatience, arrayed for the party she was to attend. another hair-dresser had been sent for to complete the work which andré had begun; but the young lady was more than an hour late, and proportionally impatient. "are you deaf, lawrence? the carriage has come," pouted elinora. "that's not the carriage for you, miss. it's to take the barber to his own place," replied lawrence. "that horrid barber again! i shall not get over the fright he gave me for a month! i will take this carriage, and he may have the other when it comes," said she, walking to the stairs. "go down and open the door for me." "if you plaze, miss, you can't go in this carriage. it's for the sick man." "i don't care what it's for! i'm in a hurry, lawrence. i must have the first carriage." "indade, miss, but we have the sick man up in the chair, ready to take him down the stairs. it's very bad he is." "let him wait! go down and open the door, as i tell you." "i beg your pardon, miss, but the docthor--" "if you don't do what i tell you this instant, i'll ask pa to discharge you." dr. fisher came out to ascertain the cause of the delay. he explained that the carriage had been ordered to convey the barber to his home, and he insisted that it should be used for that purpose. andré was his patient, and he would not permit any further delay. elinora pouted and flouted, and hopped back into her chamber. andré was borne carefully down the stairs, and placed in the carriage. maggie and the doctor entered the vehicle with him, and they were driven to the barber's own home, where he was placed upon his bed in the front room. chapter viii. make or break. maggie plied the kind-hearted physician with questions in regard to her father's condition--with questions which no man with merely human knowledge could answer. he thought andré would be able to talk to her by the next day; but he feared the patient would not be well enough to resume his place in the shop for weeks, and perhaps months. andré appeared to be quite comfortable, and did not seem to be suffering very severely. the doctor had given him some medicine before he was removed from the banker's house, and the sick man went to sleep soon after he was put to bed in his own room. dr. fisher then went out into the rear room, and told maggie that her father would probably sleep for several hours. "i will come again in the morning, maggie," said he. "is there anything i can do for you?" "nothing more, i thank you, sir," replied she. "i am very grateful to you for what you have done." "i know nothing about your father's circumstances; but if you need any assistance, i hope you will make it known." "thank you, sir; i don't think we need anything," replied maggie, a slight blush mantling her pretty face; for the idea of asking or accepting charity was painful to her. "i fear it will be a long time before your father will be able to work again," continued dr. fisher, glancing around the room to ascertain, if possible, whether the singular family were in poverty or in plenty. "i will take good care of him, whether it be for weeks or for months, or even for years. you don't know how sorry i am to have poor _mon père_ sick; but you can't think what a pleasure it is to me to have an opportunity to do something for him. i wish i could tell you how good and kind he has always been to me; how tenderly he watched over me when i was sick; how lovingly he prayed for me; but i cannot, though it makes me happy to think i can now do something for him." "you are a good girl, maggie, and i don't see how andré could have done any less for you," replied the doctor. "who keeps house here?" "o, i do that, sir." "then you must have to work very hard." "indeed, i don't! i have to keep busy almost all day; but it is such a pleasure to me to know that i am doing something for _mon père_, that i never think it is hard at all." everything looked so neat and nice in the house that the doctor could not decide whether any assistance was required or not. he was one of those good physicians who felt for the poor and the humble. though he practised in some of the richest and most aristocratic families in the city, his mission was not to them alone. he visited the haunts of poverty, and not only contributed his professional services in their aid, but he gave with no stinted hand from his own purse to relieve their wants. when he died, the sermon preached on the sunday after his funeral was from the text, "the beloved physician;" and no one ever went to his reward in heaven who better deserved the praise bestowed upon him. in the present instance, he felt that his work was not alone to heal the sick. his patient was a journeyman barber, with only a boy, and a girl of fifteen, to depend upon. this same doctor often went among his friends in state street, in 'change hours, to preach the gospel of charity in his own unostentatious way. all gave when he asked, and it was not a very difficult matter for him to raise fifty or a hundred dollars for a deserving family. he purposed to do this for those under the barber's humble roof, who, without being connected by the remotest tie of blood, were more loving and devoted towards each other than many whom god had joined by the ties of kindred. the doctor never told anybody of his good deeds. hardly did his left hand know what his right hand did; and one of his eyes, which followed not the other's apparent line of vision, seemed to be looking out all the time for some hidden source of human suffering. he was as tender of the feelings of others as he was of the visible wounds of his patients. he saw the blush upon the cheeks of maggie, and he interpreted it as readily as though the sentiment had been expressed in words. he forbore to make any further inquiries in regard to the pecuniary condition of the strange family; but he was determined that all their wants should be supplied, without injury to their laudable pride. he went away, and maggie and leo were left to themselves. "you haven't been to supper, leo," said maggie, when dr. fisher had gone. "i don't seem to care about any supper," replied leo, gloomily. "you must eat your supper, leo," added maggie, as she placed the teapot on the table. "there are some cold sausages i saved for _mon père_. sit down, leo. we must work now, and we need all the strength we can get." then she crept on tiptoe into the front room, and looked into the face of the sleeper. he was still slumbering, and she returned to the table, seating herself in her accustomed place, near the stove. leo looked heavy and gloomy, as well he might; for the sad event of that day promised to blast the bright hopes in which his sanguine nature revelled. he knew, and maggie knew, that andré maggimore had made no preparation for the calamity which had so suddenly overtaken him. it was wednesday, and the wages of the preceding week were more than half used. he had no money, no resources, no friends upon whom he could depend, to fall back on in the day of his weakness. the barber was faithful and affectionate as a woman, but he had no business calculation, and his forethought rarely extended beyond the duration of a single week. while he owed no man anything, and never contracted any debts, he had never saved a dollar beyond what he had invested in furnishing the small house. the dark day had come, and leo was the first to see it. in another week, or, at most, in two weeks, every dollar the barber had would have been spent. it was plain enough to him that he could not continue to attend school till exhibition day came, and he would lose the medal he coveted, and for which he had worked most diligently. maggie poured out his cup of tea, and handed it to him. he was eating his supper; but his head was bowed down. "leo," said she. he looked up with a start, took his tea, and immediately lost himself again. "leo!" added maggie, in her peculiarly tender tones. he looked up again. "what are you thinking about, leo?" she continued, gazing earnestly at him. "i need not ask you, leo. you are thinking of poor _mon père_." "i was thinking of him. i was thinking, too, that i should lose my medal now," replied leo, gloomily. "fie on your medal! don't think of such a trifle as that!" she added, gently rebuking the selfish thought of her brother. "you don't quite understand me, maggie." "i hope you are not thinking of yourself, leo--only of _mon père_." "i was thinking that he has worked for me, and now i must work for him. i must give up my school now." "you must, indeed, leo." "we can't stay in this house unless we pay the rent. father made ten dollars a week, and it took every cent of it to pay the expenses. what shall we do now?" "we must both work." "we can't make ten dollars a week if both of us work. but you can't do anything more than take care of father. i don't see how we are going to get along. fitz wittleworth has only five dollars a week at mr. checkynshaw's. if he gave me the same wages, it wouldn't more than half pay our expenses." maggie looked puzzled and perplexed at this plain statement. it was a view of the situation she had not before taken, and she could not suggest any method of solving the difficult problem. "we can reduce our expenses," said she, at last, a cheerful glow lighting up her face as she seemed to have found the remedy. "you can't reduce them. the doctor's bill and the medicines will more than make up for anything we can save in things to eat and drink." "that's very true, leo. what shall we do?" inquired maggie, sorrowfully, as her ingenious argument was overthrown. "i don't know what we can do. they say doctors charge a dollar a visit, and that will make seven dollars a week. the medicines will cost another dollar, at least, perhaps two or three. that makes eight dollars. even if we save three dollars a week in provisions and such things, it will cost fifteen dollars a week. i might as well try to fly as to make that. i couldn't do it. it's half as much again as father could make." "o, dear!" sighed maggie, appalled by this array of financial demands. "i suppose the doctor won't bring in his bill yet a while," added leo. "but we must pay him. _mon père_ would worry himself to death in a short time if he knew he was getting in debt." "i don't see how we can do it." leo relapsed into silence again, and finished his supper. the problem troubled him. he sat down by the stove, and did not move for half an hour. maggie cleared off the table, washed the dishes and put them away, creeping stealthily into the front room every few moments to assure herself that all was well with her father. "leo, don't worry any more. we shall be cared for somehow. our good father in heaven will watch over us in the future, as he has in the past. trust in god, leo," said maggie, impressively. "i will not worry any more, and you must not." "i will trust in god; but god expects me to do something more than that. he helps those who help themselves. i am going to do something!" exclaimed he, springing to his feet. "make or break, i'm going to do my duty; i'm going to do my whole duty." "what are you going to do, leo?" "i don't know yet; but, make or break, i'm going to do something. it's no use for me to work for mr. checkynshaw at five dollars a week, when it will cost us fifteen dollars a week to get along. i'm going to do something," continued leo, as he took a lamp from the shelf and lighted it. then he stopped before maggie, and looked her full in the face, his eyes lighting up with unusual lustre. "why, what's the matter, leo? what makes you look at me so?" "maggie, andré is not our own father; but he has done all that an own father could do for us. maggie, let me take your hand." she gave him her hand, and was awed by the impressive earnestness of his manner. "maggie, i'm going to do my duty now. i want to promise you that poor father shall never want for anything. i want to promise you that i will do all for him that a real son could do." "good, kind leo! we will both do our whole duty." leo dropped her hand, and went down stairs into his workshop. the white mice were capering and gamboling about their palatial abodes, all unconscious that poor andré had been stricken down. leo gave them their suppers, and sat down on the work-bench. he was in deep thought, and remained immovable for a long time. he was a natural mechanic. his head was full of mechanical ideas. was there not some useful article which he could make and sell--a boot-jack, a work-box, a writing-desk--something new and novel? he had half a dozen such things in his mind, and he was thinking which one it would pay best to mature. his thought excited him, and he twisted about on the bench, knocking a chisel on the floor. the noise frightened the mice, and they made a stampede to their nests. he looked up at them. "that's an idea!" exclaimed he, leaping off the bench. "make or break, i'll put it through!" chapter ix. mr. checkynshaw and family. we left mr. checkynshaw entering the house of mrs. wittleworth, in atkinson street; and, as he was a gentleman of eminent dignity and gravity, we feel compelled to beg his pardon for leaving him so long out in the cold of a winter night. having made the barber as comfortable as the circumstances would permit, we are entirely willing to let the banker in, though the abode at which he sought admission was hardly worthy of the distinguished honor thus conferred upon it. mrs. wittleworth cautiously opened the door, for those who have the least to steal are often the most afraid of robbers; but, recognizing the lofty personage at the door, she invited him to enter, much wondering what had driven him from his comfortable abode in pemberton square to seek out her obscure residence at that hour in the evening. mr. checkynshaw was conducted to an apartment which served as kitchen, parlor, and bed-room for the poor woman, her son having a chamber up stairs. a seat was handed to the great man, and he sat down by the cooking-stove, after bestowing a glance of apparent disgust at the room and its furnishings. the banker rubbed his hands, and looked as though he meant business; and mrs. wittleworth actually trembled with fear lest some new calamity was about to be heaped upon the pile of misfortunes that already weighed her down. mr. checkynshaw had never before darkened her doors. though she had once been a welcome guest within his drawing-rooms, she had long since been discarded, and cast out, and forgotten. when the poor woman, worse than a widow, pleaded before him for the means of living, he had given her son a place in his office, at a salary of five dollars a week. if she had gone to him again, doubtless he would have done more for her; but, as long as she could keep soul and body together by her ill-paid drudgery, she could not endure the humiliation of displaying her poverty to him. mrs. wittleworth had once lived in affluence. she had been brought up in ease and luxury, and her present lot was all the harder for the contrast. her father, james osborne, was an enterprising merchant, who had accumulated a fortune of a hundred thousand dollars, on which he had the good sense to retire from active business. of his four children, the two sons died, leaving the two daughters to inherit his wealth. john wittleworth, the father of fitz, was a clerk in the counting-room of mr. osborne, and finally became the partner of his employer, whose confidence he obtained to such a degree that the merchant was willing to trust him with all he had. he married ellen osborne; and when her father retired from business, his son-in-law carried it on alone. at this time, doubtless, john wittleworth was worthy of all the confidence reposed in him, for the terrible habit, which eventually beggared him, had not developed itself to an extent which seemed perilous even to the eye of affection. a few years after the marriage of ellen, mr. checkynshaw, then aspiring to no higher title than that of a simple broker, presented himself as the suitor of mary, the younger daughter of the retired merchant. mr. osborne did not like him very well; but mary did, and their affair was permitted to take its course. only a few months after this alliance of the checkynshaw and the osborne, the merchant was taken sick. when it was evident that his days were drawing to a close, he made his will. his property consisted of about one hundred thousand dollars. one half of it was invested in a block of stores, which paid a heavy rental, and the other half was in money, stocks, and debts. in settling the affairs of the firm he had taken john wittleworth's notes for thirty thousand dollars, secured by a mortgage on the stock. in making his will, mr. osborne gave to ellen or--what was the same thing in those days, when a woman did not own her own property--to her husband, all the money, stocks, and debts due from wittleworth. he did this because his late partner wanted more capital to increase his business. to mary, the wife of mr. checkynshaw, he gave the block of stores; but, not having so much confidence in mary's husband as in ellen's, he gave her the property with certain restrictions. the income of the estate was to be hers--or her husband's--during her life. at her death the estate was to pass to her children. if she died without children, the property was to be her sister's, or her sister's children's. but mr. osborne did not wish to exhibit any want of confidence in mary's husband; so he made mr. checkynshaw the trustee, to hold the block of stores for his wife and for her children. he had the power to collect the rents, and as long as his wife lived, or as long as her children lived, the money was practically his own. mary, the first mrs. checkynshaw, was in rather feeble health, and the doctors advised her to spend the winter in the south of france. her husband complied with this advice; and her child, marguerite, was born in perpignan, and had a french name because she was born in france. the family returned home in the following spring; but mrs. checkynshaw died during the succeeding winter. marguerite was a fine, healthy child; and to her now belonged the block of stores bequeathed by her grandfather, her father holding it in trust for her. in another year mr. checkynshaw married his second wife, who treated little marguerite well enough, though she felt no deep and motherly interest in her, especially after elinora, her own daughter, was born. mr. checkynshaw called himself a banker now. he had taken mr. hart and another gentleman into the concern as partners, and the banking-house of checkynshaw, hart, & co. was a rising establishment. the second mrs. checkynshaw was an ambitious woman, vain and pretentious. her friends had been to london, paris, naples, and rome. she had never been in europe, and it galled her to be out of the fashion. when elinora was only two years old, she insisted upon going abroad. her husband did not like the idea of travelling with two children, one five and the other two years old. but he was over-persuaded, and finally consented to go. they arrived in paris in july, and intended to remain there two months; but, before this period elapsed, the banker received a letter from mr. hart informing him of the sudden death of the third partner in their house. this event compelled him to return immediately; but mrs. checkynshaw was so well pleased with parisian life, that she was unwilling to leave the city so soon. the voyage to her was terrible, and she had seen little or nothing of europe. the family had taken apartments, and she was loath to leave them. a friend of the banker, who with his wife occupied rooms in the same house, suggested that mrs. checkynshaw and her children should remain until her husband could return, two or three months later. an arrangement to this effect was made, and the banker hastened home to settle his business affairs. he had hardly departed before the cholera broke out with fearful violence in paris. one of its first victims was the gentleman who had charge of mr. checkynshaw's family. his wife followed him, only a day later, to the cholera hospital. of course the banker's wife was terribly frightened, and instantly made her preparations to leave the infected city. poor little marguerite was the first of the family to take the disease, and she was hurried off to the hospital by the landlord of the house, who was very polite, but very heartless. this event would not have delayed the departure of mrs. checkynshaw, but she was stricken down herself before she could leave. the fearful malady raged with awful violence; hospitals were crowded with patients, and the dead were hurried to their last resting-place without a prayer or a dirge. little elinora was taken by her nurse to the sisters of charity, and escaped the disease. mrs. checkynshaw recovered, and as soon as she was able, reclaimed her child, and fled to the interior of switzerland, to a small town which the plague had not yet visited. when the panic had subsided, she returned to paris. she bad been informed, before her departure, that little marguerite had died of the disease; but, on her return, she visited the hospital, and made more careful inquiry in regard to the little patient. she was told that the child answering to her description had died, and been buried with a dozen others. it was then impossible to identify the remains of the child. mr. checkynshaw returned to paris in september. his wife had written to him and to mrs. wittleworth as soon as she was able, and her husband had received her letter before his departure from boston. poor little marguerite! she was his own child, and he was sorely grieved at her death. he was not quite satisfied with his wife's investigations, and he determined to inquire further. with mrs. checkynshaw he went to the hospital. "the child died the day after it was brought here," replied the director. "here is the name;" and he pointed to the record. the name indicated certainly was not "checkynshaw," though it was as near it as a frenchman could be expected to write it. the letters spelled "chuckingham." "allow me to look at the book," said mr. checkynshaw. "certainly, sir; but i remember the case well. she was a little english girl," added the director. "this child was american," interposed the anxious father. "we cannot tell the difference. she spoke only english." "what is this?" asked mr. checkynshaw, pointing to another name. "marguerite poulebah." "that patient was discharged, cured." "do you translate english proper names?" "never!" "what became of this patient?" asked mr. checkynshaw, deeply interested. "i don't know." the banker was satisfied that "marguerite poulebah" was his daughter; that the persons who had brought her to the hospital understood a little english, and had translated his surname literally from "chicken" and "pshaw." he investigated the matter for a week. the concierge of the lodgings where he had resided assured him he had not given the name as "poulebah." at the end of the week he informed his wife that he had obtained a clew to the child. she had been taken from the hospital by the sisters of charity, and sent to strasburg, that she might not have a relapse. mr. checkynshaw went to strasburg alone. on his return he assured his wife that he had found marguerite; that she was happy with the sisters, and cried when he spoke of taking her away. the devoted ladies were very much attached to her, he said; and he had concluded that it would be best to leave her there, at least until they were ready to embark for home. mrs. checkynshaw did not object. she had no love for the child, and though she had treated her well from a sense of duty, was rather glad to get rid of her. the family remained in europe till the next spring. mr. checkynshaw went to see his daughter again. the sisters were educating her, and he declared that marguerite was so very happy with them, and begged so hard not to be taken from them, that he had consented to let her remain at their school. mrs. checkynshaw did not care; she thought it was strange; but if the child's father deemed it best for her to remain with the sisters, it was not for her to say anything. she did not say anything--marguerite was not her own child. when they returned to boston, the friends of the osbornes wished to know what had become of the child. mr. checkynshaw had not informed any one of the death of marguerite when the intelligence came to him in his wife's letter, though mrs. wittleworth had received it direct from the same source. he had grieved deeply at the loss of the child. yet his sorrow was not alone for poor marguerite; the block of stores, every year increasing in value, must not pass out of his hands. "the poor child had the cholera in paris, and was sent to the hospital," was his reply. "when she recovered, mrs. checkynshaw was down with the disease, and the sisters of charity took her in charge. they treated her as a mother treats her own child, and marguerite loves them better than she does my wife. i don't like to say anything about it, and will not, except to most intimate friends; but marguerite was not mrs. checkynshaw's own daughter. they were not very fond of each other, and--well, i think you ought to be able to understand the matter without my saying anything more. the poor child is very happy where she is, and i had not the heart to separate her from such dear friends." everybody inferred that mrs. checkynshaw did not treat the child well, and no more questions were asked. the banking-house of checkynshaw, hart, & co. increased in wealth and importance, and had extensive foreign connections in england. every year or two the head of the house crossed the ocean, partly, as he declared, to transact his business in london, and partly to visit his child in france. chapter x. the wittleworth family. while everything appeared to be well with the banker, into whose exchequer the revenues of the block of stores flowed with unintermitting regularity, the affairs of the other branch of the osborne family were in a far less hopeful condition. john wittleworth drank to excess, and did not attend to his business. it was said that he gambled largely; but it was not necessary to add this vice to the other in order to rob him of his property, and filch from him his good name. he failed in business, and was unable to reëstablish himself. he obtained a situation as a clerk, but his intemperate habits unfitted him for his duties. if he could not take care of his own affairs, much less could he manage the affairs of another. he had become a confirmed sot, had sacrificed everything, and given himself up to the demon of the cup. he became a ragged, filthy drunkard; and as such, friends who had formerly honored him refused to recognize him, or to permit him to enter their counting-rooms. just before the opening of our story, he had been arrested as a common drunkard; and it was even a relief to his poor wife to know that he was safely lodged in the house of correction. when mrs. wittleworth found she could no longer depend upon her natural protector, she went to work with her own hands, like an heroic woman, as she was. as soon as her son was old enough to be of any assistance to her, a place was found for him in a lawyer's office, where he received a couple of dollars a week. her own health giving way under the drudgery of toil, to which she had never been accustomed, she was obliged to depend more and more upon fitz, who, in the main, was not a bad boy, though his notions were not suited to the station in which he was compelled to walk. at last she was obliged to appeal to her brother-in-law, who gave fitz his situation. fitz was rather "airy." he had a better opinion of himself than anybody else had--a vicious habit, which the world does not readily forgive. he wanted to dress himself up, and "swell" round among bigger men than himself. his mother was disappointed in him, and tried to teach him better things; but he believed that his mother was only a woman, and that he was wiser, and more skilful in worldly affairs, than she was. he paid her three dollars a week out of his salary of five dollars, and in doing this he believed that he discharged his whole duty to her. perhaps we ought again to apologize to mr. checkynshaw for leaving him so long in such a disagreeable place as the poor home of his first wife's sister; but he was seated before the cooking-stove, and the contemplation of poverty would do him no harm; so we shall not beg his pardon. the banker looked around the room, at the meagre and mean furniture, and then at the woman herself; her who had once been the belle of the circle in which she moved, now clothed in the cheapest calico, her face pale and hollow from hard work and ceaseless anxiety. perhaps he found it difficult to believe that she was the sister of his first wife. "where is fitz?" asked he, in gruff accents. "he has gone up in summer street. he will be back in a few minutes," replied mrs. wittleworth, as she seated herself opposite the banker, still fearing that some new calamity was about to overtake her. "i want to see him," added mr. checkynshaw, in the most uncompromising tones. "fitz says you discharged him," continued the poor woman, heaving a deep sigh. "i didn't; he discharged himself. i could not endure the puppy's impudence. but that is neither here nor there. i don't want to see him about that." "i hope you will take him back." "take him back if he will behave himself." "will you?" asked she, eagerly. "i will; that is, if it turns out that he was not concerned in robbing my safe." "in what?" exclaimed mrs. wittleworth. "my safe has been robbed of some of my most valuable papers." "robbed!" "yes, robbed." "did fitz do it?" gasped the wretched mother; and this was even a greater calamity than any she had dreaded. "i don't know whether he did or not; that's what i want to find out; that's what i want to see him for." mr. checkynshaw proceeded to relate the circumstances under which the safe had been robbed. before he had finished, fitz came in, and his mother was too impatient to wait for her distinguished visitor to set any of his verbal traps and snares. she bluntly informed her hopeful son that he was suspected of being concerned in the robbery. "i don't know anything about it. i had nothing to do with it," protested fitz. "there's nothing too mean for checkynshaw to say." "don't be saucy, fitz. try to be civil," pleaded his mother. "be civil! what, when he comes here to accuse me of robbing his safe? i can't stand that, and i won't, if i know myself," replied fitz, shaking his head vehemently at the banker. "i haven't accused you of anything, fitz," added mr. checkynshaw, very mildly for him. "i came to inquire about it." "do you think if i did it that i would tell you of it?" "i wish to ask you some questions." "well, you needn't!" "very well, young man," said the banker, rising from his chair, "if you don't choose to answer me, you can answer somebody else. i'll have you arrested." "arrested! i'd like to see you do it! what for? i know something about law!" he had been an errand boy in a lawyer's office! "don't be so rude, fitz," begged his mother. "arrest me!" repeated the violent youth, whose dignity had been touched by the threat. "do it! why didn't you do it before you came here? you can't scare me! i wasn't brought up in the city to be frightened by a brick house. why don't you go for a constable, and take me up now? i'd like to have you do it." "i will do it if you don't behave yourself," said the banker, beginning to be a little ruffled by the violent and unreasonable conduct of mr. wittleworth. "i wish you would! i really wish you would! i should like to know what my friend choate would say about it." "how silly you talk!" exclaimed his mother, quite as much disgusted as her stately visitor. "you may let him badger you, if you like, mother; but he shall not come any odds on me--not if i know it, and i think i do!" "it is useless for me to attempt to say anything to such a young porcupine," added mr. checkynshaw, taking his hat from the table. mrs. wittleworth burst into tears. she had hoped to effect a reconciliation between her son and his employer, upon which her very immunity from blank starvation seemed to depend. the case was a desperate one, and the bad behavior of fitz seemed to destroy her last hope. "i will give up now, fitz, and go to the almshouse," sobbed she. fitz was inclined to give up also when this stunning acknowledgment was made in the presence of his great enemy, the arch dragon of respectability. "i am willing to work, but not to be trodden upon," added he, sullenly; but his spirit for the moment seemed to be subdued. "mr. checkynshaw wishes to ask you some questions, and it is your duty to answer them," said mrs. wittleworth, a little encouraged by the more hopeful aspect of her belligerent son. "ask away," replied fitz, settling himself into a chair, and fixing his gaze upon the stove. "do you know pilky wayne?" asked the banker, who had a certain undefined fear of fitz since the robbery, which, however, the immensity of his dignity prevented him from exposing. "know who?" demanded fitz, looking up. "pilky wayne." "never heard of him before." "yes, you have; you made an arrangement with him to rob my safe," continued the banker, who could not help browbeating his inferior. "did i? well, if i did, i did," answered fitz, shaking his head. "what do you think my friend choate would say to that?" "he would say you were a silly fellow," interposed mrs. wittleworth. "don't be impudent, fitz." "well, i won't be impudent!" said fitz, with a kind of suppressed chuckle. "there were, or you thought there were, certain papers in my safe which might be useful to you," added mr. checkynshaw. "i don't believe there were any letters from my cousin marguerite among them," replied fitz, with a sneering laugh. "marguerite must be able to write very pretty letters by this time." "be still, fitz," pleaded mrs. wittleworth. "fitz, i don't want to quarrel with you," continued mr. checkynshaw, in the most pliable tones fitz had ever heard the banker use to him. "i thought you did. accusing a gentleman of robbing your safe is not exactly the way to make friends with him," said fitz, so much astonished at the great man's change of tone that he hardly knew what to say. "i accuse you of nothing. fitz, if you want your place in my office again, you can return to-morrow morning." mr. wittleworth looked at his disconsolate mother. a gleam of triumph rested on his face. the banker, the head and front of the great house of checkynshaw, hart, & co., had fully and directly recognized the value of his services; had fairly "backed out," and actually entreated him to return, and fill the vacant place, which no other person was competent to fill! that was glory enough for one day. but he concluded that it would be better for the banker to come down a peg farther, and apologize for his abusive treatment of his confidential clerk. "certainly he will be glad to take the place again, sir," said mrs. wittleworth, who was anxious to help along the negotiation. "perhaps i will; and then again, perhaps i will not," replied mr. wittleworth, who was beginning to be airy again, and threw himself back on his chair, sucked his teeth, and looked as magnificent as an eastern prince. "are you willing to double my salary, mr. checkynshaw?" "after what i have heard here to-night, i am," answered the banker, promptly. "i ought to have done it before; and i should, had i known your mother's circumstances." that was very unlike mr. checkynshaw. mr. wittleworth did not like it. his salary was to be doubled as an act of charity, rather than because he deserved such a favor. it was not like the banker to want him at all after what had happened. there was something deep under it; but fitz was deep himself. "perhaps you might help me in finding my papers. of course i don't care a straw for the three hundred and fifty dollars or so which was stolen with them," suggested mr. checkynshaw. "perhaps i might; perhaps i have some skill in business of that kind, though i suppose it doesn't exactly become me to say so," added fitz, stroking his chin. "but if you mean to intimate that i know anything about them, you are utterly and entirely mistaken. i'm an honest man--the noblest work of god." "i will give you ten dollars a week for the future, if you will return," said mr. checkynshaw, impatiently. "of course he will," almost gasped the eager mother. fitz was deep. the banker was anxious. it meant something. fitz thought he knew what it meant. "on the whole, i think i will _not_ return," replied he, deliberately. "are you crazy, fitz?" groaned mrs. wittleworth, in despair. "never a more sane man walked the earth. mr. checkynshaw knows what he is about; i know what i am about." "we shall both starve, fitz!" cried his mother. "on the contrary, mother, we shall soon be in possession of that block of stores, with an income of five or six thousand a year," added fitz, complacently. "the boy's an idiot!" exclaimed the banker, as he took his hat, and rushed out of the house. chapter xi. the mouse business. while maggie maggimore took upon herself the blessed task of nursing the barber, leo charged himself with the duty of providing for the wants of the family. each had assumed all that one person could be expected to achieve. it was no small thing for a girl of fifteen to take the entire care of a helpless invalid; and it was no small thing for a boy of fifteen to take upon himself the task of providing for the expenses of the house, and the medical attendance of the sick man. it would have been much easier for leo to fail in his assumed task than for maggie to do so. even a young man of so much importance as fitzherbert wittleworth, upon whom the salvation of the great house of checkynshaw, hart, & co. seemed to depend, toiled for the meagre pittance of five dollars a week. leo had some acquaintance with the late clerk in the private office of the banker, and he had listened with wonder to the astounding achievements of fitz in the postal and financial departments of the house. of course mr. wittleworth would be a partner in the concern as soon as he was twenty-one, if not before; for, besides his own marvellous abilities, he had the additional advantage of being a relative of the distinguished head of the concern. leo was abashed at his own insignificance when he stood in the presence of the banker's clerk. if such an astonishing combination of talent as mr. wittleworth possessed could be purchased for five dollars a week, what could he, who was only a mere tinker, expect to obtain? half that sum would have been an extravagant valuation of his own services, under ordinary circumstances. but beneath the burden which now rested upon him, he felt an inspiration which had never before fired his soul; he felt called upon to perform a miracle. he was born with a mechanical genius, and he felt it working within him. there was no end of wooden trip-hammers, saw-mills, and other working machines he had invented and constructed. under the pressure of the present necessity he felt able to accomplish better things. something must be done which would produce fifteen, or at least ten, dollars a week. it was no use to think it couldn't be done; it must be done. it looked like a species of lunacy on his part to flatter himself that it was possible to make even more than a journeyman mechanic's wages. leo had in his busy brain half a dozen crude plans of simple machines. often, when he saw people at work, he tried to think how the labor might be done by machinery. as he sat in the kitchen, where maggie was sewing or preparing the dinner, he was devising a way to perform the task with wood and iron. only a few days before the illness of the barber, he had seen her slicing potatoes to fry, and the operation had suggested a potato slicer, which would answer equally well for cucumbers, onions, and apples. sitting on the bench, he was thinking of this apparatus, when fifteen dollars a week became a necessity. but the machine required more iron than wood work, and he had not the means to do the former, and no capital to invest in other people's labor. then he turned his attention to a new kind of boot-jack he had in his mind--an improvement on one he had seen, which could be folded up and put in a traveller's carpet-bag. as this implement was all wood except the hinges and screws, it looked more hopeful. he could make half a dozen of them in a day, and they would sell for half a dollar apiece. he was thinking of an improvement on the improvement, when the stampede of the mice deranged his ideas; but they gave him a new one. white mice were beautiful little creatures. their fur was so very white, their eyes so very pink, and their paws so very cunning, that everybody liked to see them. even the magnificent mr. checkynshaw had deigned to regard them with some attention, and had condescended to say that his daughter elinora would be delighted to see them. then the houses, and the gymnastic apparatus which leo attached to them, rendered them tenfold more interesting. at a store in court street the enterprising young man had seen them sold for half a dollar a pair; indeed, he had paid this sum for the ancestral couple from which had descended, in the brief space of a year and a half the numerous tribes and families that peopled the miniature palaces on the basement walls. at this rate his present stock was worth seventy-five dollars--the coveted salary of five whole weeks! in another month, at least fifty more little downy pink-eyes would emerge from their nests, adding twenty-five dollars more to his capital stock in trade! leo had already decided to go into the mouse business. he was counting his chickens before they were hatched, and building magnificent castles in the air; but even the most brilliant success, as well as the most decided failure, is generally preceded by a vast amount of ground and lofty tumbling in the imagination. if the man in court street could sell a pair of white mice for fifty cents, and a beggarly tin box with a whirligig for a dollar, making the establishment and its occupants cost a dollar and a half, why would not one of his splendid palaces, with two or three pairs of mice in it, bring three, or even five dollars? that was the point, and there was the argument all lying in a nutshell. leo had faith. what would a rich man care for five dollars when he wanted to please his children? he had watched his mice day after day, and week after week, by the hour at a time, and had never failed to be amused at their gambols. everybody that came to the house was delighted with them. if the man in court street could sell them, he could. there was money in the speculation, leo reasoned, and it should not fail for the want of a fair trial. he could make houses of various sizes, styles, and prices, and thus suit all tastes. he could stock each one with as many mice as the customer desired. he could make a pretty elaborate establishment in two days--five-dollar size; and of the smaller and plainer kind--two-dollar pattern--he could make two in a day. the palace on the bench was nearly completed, and he went to work at once and finished it. it had a glass front, so that the dainty little occupants of the institution could not get out, and the foe of white mice, the terrible cat, could not get in. this establishment had been intended for mr. stropmore; but as that gentleman had not been informed of his purpose to present it, leo decided that it should be used to initiate the experiment on whose success so much depended. it was ten o'clock at night when the grand palace on the bench was finished. leo put some cotton wool into the sleeping apartments, and then transferred three pairs of mice from the most densely populated house to the new one. he watched them for a while, as they explored their elegant hotel, going up stairs and down, snuffing in every corner, standing upon their hind legs, and taking the most minute observations of the surroundings. leo was entirely satisfied with the work of his hands, and with the conduct of the mice who had been promoted to a residence in its elegant and spacious quarters. if there was not five dollars in that establishment, then the rich men of boston were stingy and ungrateful. if they could not appreciate that superb palace, and those supple little beauties who held court within its ample walls, why, they were not worthy to be citizens of the athens of america! leo went up stairs. andré still slept, and maggie sat by the bedside, patiently watching him in his slumbers. he crept softly into the front room, and looked at the pale face of his father. his heart was lighter than it had been before since the news of the calamity was told to him. he was full of hope, and almost believed that he had solved the problem of supplying all the wants of the family. "you must sleep yourself, maggie," said he, in a whisper. "hush!" said she, fearful that the sleeper might be disturbed, as she led the way into the rear room. "i will sit up half the night, maggie." "no, leo; there is no need of that. i wake very easily, and i can sleep enough in the rocking-chair. you seem to be quite cheerful now, leo," added she, noticing the change which had come over him. "i feel so, maggie. you say we shall want fifteen dollars a week." "no, you said so, leo. i might take in sewing; but i don't think both of us can make anything like that sum. i am very much worried. i don't know what will become of us." "don't be worried any more. i'm going to make that money myself. you needn't do anything but take care of father; and i'll help you do the housework," added leo, cheerfully. "what are you going to do?" "i'm going into the mouse business." "into what?" "the mouse business," replied leo, gravely. "what do you mean by that?" asked maggie, puzzled as much by his gravity as by the unintelligible phrase he had used. leo explained what he meant, and argued the case with much skill and enthusiasm. maggie would have laughed if she had not been solemnly impressed by the condition of her father, and by the burden of responsibility that rested upon her as his nurse. she went into the basement, and looked at the house which leo had just finished. it was certainly very pretty, and the mice in it were very cunning. "you don't think any one will give you five dollars for that house--do you?" said she, as she joined him in the back room again. "i mean to ask six for it, and if folks won't give it, they are mean. that is all i've got to say about it," replied leo. "but they won't." "why, the mice alone are worth a dollar and a half; and there is two days' work in the house, besides the stock and the glass. i certainly expect to get six dollars for the concern, though i shall not complain if i don't get but five. i can make from three to a dozen of them in a week, and if i don't make at least fifteen dollars a week out of the mouse business, i shall be disappointed--that's all." "i am afraid you will be disappointed, leo," replied maggie, with a sigh, as she thought what a sad thing it would be when the brilliant air-castle tumbled to the ground. "perhaps i shall; if i do, i can't help it. but if this fails, i have got another string to my bow." "what's that?" "i shall go into the boot-jack business next; and i hope to get up my machine for slicing potatoes, and such things, soon." "o, dear, leo! you are full of strange ideas. i only hope that some of them will work well," added maggie. "i'm going to be reasonable, sis. i'm not going to give up if a thing fails once, twice, or nineteen times. i'm going to keep pulling. i've got half a dozen things in my head; if five of them fail, i shall make a big thing out of the sixth." "i hope you will; you are so patient and persevering that you ought to succeed in something." "o, i shall; you may depend upon that! make or break, i'm bound to succeed in something." "what do you mean by 'make or break,' leo? it sounds just as though you meant to make money if you sacrificed everything." "i don't mean that." "i would rather go to the almshouse than be dishonest. i can't think of anything more horrid than being wicked." "nor i either. i don't mean to be dishonest, maggie. i would rather be a good man than a rich one, any day; but i think a man can be both. a good man, with lots of money, is better than a good man without it; for he can do good with it. when i say, 'make or break,' i don't mean anything bad by it. i'll tell you what i mean, maggie. it seems to me, when i get hold of a good thing, i ought to keep pulling till i carry my point, or pull away till something breaks. i don't mean to risk everything on a turn of the wheel of fortune; nothing of that sort. i mean to persevere and stick to anything so long as there's any chance of success--till the strings break, and the whole thing tumbles down. that's my idea." the idea was satisfactory to maggie, and she returned to her patient, while leo went up to bed; but not to sleep for hours, for the "mouse business" excited his brain, and kept him awake. chapter xii. leo's wonderful performers. maggie, at the sick bed of andré, slept even more than leo. she had a lounge in the room, placed near her charge, on which she rested comfortably, though she rose several times in the night to assure herself that all was well with her father. in the morning andré seemed to be in the entire possession of his faculties. he had slumbered quietly all night, hardly opening his eyes after he took the doctor's prescription. he awoke before his attentive nurse. he had but a faint remembrance of the events of the preceding evening; for, after he came out of the fit, he was in a kind of stupor. he had noticed maggie and leo at the house of the banker; but everything seemed like a dream. "maggie," said he, as he looked around the familiar apartment, and saw her lying on the lounge. she sprang to her feet, and went to him, glad to hear the sound of his voice, but fearful that the call might be the prelude of another attack. he smiled as she approached him, and made an effort to extend his right hand to her; but he could not move it. "father!" exclaimed the fond girl, as she bent over him and kissed his pale face, now slightly flushed with fever. "i have been very ill," he added. "you have, indeed; but you are better now; and i am so glad, _mon père_!" "ah, _ma fille_, you are a good girl! you have been by my side all night. it was selfish for me to wake you." "no, no! it was not. i'm glad you did. i am so happy to find you better!" "what ails me? i can't move my right arm, nor my right leg," asked andré, struggling to raise his limbs. "there is no feeling in my right side." "the doctor will come by and by, and tell you all about it." "my head feels very strange," added the sufferer. "i am sorry, _mon père_. what can i do?" said maggie, tenderly. "give me some cold water." she gave him the drink, supporting his head with her arm. it was plain, even to maggie, that andré was in a very bad way. "go up stairs, and go to bed now, maggie. you have been up all night," said he, with a loving glance at her. "no, _mon père_, i have no need to go to bed. i have slept on the lounge nearly all night. i feel quite bright, only i'm so sad to think you are sick." "i shall be well soon. i must be well soon," he added, looking anxiously at her. "i hope you will be well soon; but it may be several weeks before you are able to go out," replied maggie, wishing to have him reconciled to his lot as soon as possible. "several weeks, maggie! o, no! i must go to the shop sooner than that." "you must be very patient, _mon père_." "i will be patient, maggie; but i must go to the shop soon." "don't think of the shop yet." "my poor children! what will become of you? i have no money. i must work, or you will starve, and be turned out of the house because the rent is not paid. indeed i must go to the shop, maggie." "but you cannot. you are not able to lift your right arm at all, and you are so weak you could not stand up. do be patient, and not think at all of the shop." "i must do as you bid me now, maggie." "then don't think of the shop, or anything but our nice little home, where we have always been so happy." "how shall we pay the rent if i lie here? where will you get food to eat and clothes to wear?" demanded andré, with something like a shudder of his paralyzed frame. "don't think of those things." "i must. i was wicked not to save up some money." "no, you were not wicked; you were always as good as you could be. the good god will take care of us." "they will send us all to the almshouse." "no, no; leo is going to make heaps of money!" replied maggie, though she had not much confidence in her brother's brilliant scheme, or even in the inventions that reposed in his active brain. "can't you go to sleep again, _mon père_?" "i will try," replied he, meekly. "i will if you go to bed, and sleep. what should i do if you were sick?" "i shall not be sick. i have slept enough. i will go and make you some beef tea, and get breakfast for leo. i shall hear you if you call." leo had made the fire in the cooking-stove, and in a short time the odor of fried sausages pervaded the house; the beef tea was in course of preparation, and the coffee was boiling on the stove. maggie was as busy as a bee; but every five minutes she ran into the front room, and asked andré if he wanted anything. she went to the front door, where the baker had deposited half a dozen two-cent rolls, each of which was nearly as big as one sold for five cents now. for a girl of fifteen, maggie was an excellent cook; indeed, she would have been regarded as a prodigy in this respect in our day and generation. she had acquired all her skill from andré, whose accomplishments were almost unlimited. when he first came to boston, he had boarded out; but, when maggie was eight years old, he had taken this house. at first he had done the housework himself, with what little help she could give him, till now she had entirely relieved him from any care of this kind. at this time he had taken leo from the almshouse, to be her companion in his absence. breakfast was soon ready; and leo was called up from the workshop, where he had already got out a portion of the stock for four small mouse-houses, each intended to accommodate a single pair of mice. he was still cheerful and hopeful, and went in to see andré before he sat down at the table. he told his father he was sure he could make ten dollars a week by his splendid enterprise. he intended to take the palace he had finished up to state street, for sale, at noon that day. the problem would soon be solved, and he was already nearly as well satisfied as though he had the price of his curious merchandise in his pocket. after breakfast he returned to the shop. he was sad when he thought of staying away from school, and of giving up the medal he had set his heart upon; but, then, it was a very great pleasure to do something for his devoted father, who had been so good to him. it was a great sacrifice that he was called upon to make; but there was no help for it, and he tried to yield cheerfully to the necessity of the occasion. gladly and hopefully he sawed and planed, and squared, and grooved, and mortised his work, and nailed the parts together. at ten o'clock the doctor came. he was as gentle and kind as he had been the evening before. andré was partially paralyzed on one side of his frame; but dr. fisher was quite hopeful of his patient, though it was not likely that he could go to work for some months. the physician was much pleased with maggie, and when he was taking his leave he asked for leo. "he is in his shop at work," said maggie. "every one that comes here goes down to see his white mice; perhaps you would like to do so." "i would," replied the doctor, with one of those benevolent smiles which all who knew him will remember to the end of their days. maggie conducted him to the basement, and then returned to andre's chamber. the doctor examined the cages and palaces with wondering interest, though the mice were all asleep in their lairs. leo put a little canary seed in the grand parade of each house, and this was quite enough to rouse them from their slumbers, and induce them to exhibit themselves to the astonished visitor. "these are my performing mice," said leo, pointing to a house in which seven full-grown ones were nibbling the seed. "what do they perform?" laughed the doctor. "i'll show you, sir." leo swept out the canary seed from the grand parade, so that the little actors should have nothing to distract their attention. taking six little sticks--that looked something like guns--he rapped with his finger-nail on the floor of the house. the seven mice stood up on their hind legs, in a straight line, like a file of soldiers. he then gave each of the first six his musket, and to the seventh a sword. "shoulder--arms!" said he, with a movement of his forefinger, which probably had more effect than the words. the mice, with becoming gravity, obeyed the order, and successively went through four movements in the manual of arms. then one of the little soldiers was deprived of his gun, and leo explained that he was a deserter, and was to be shot for his crime. at a movement of the boy's forefinger, the culprit took his station at one side of the grand parade, while his companions formed a line on the other side, with their muskets pointed at the deserter. "fire!" said leo, at the same time dropping a torpedo on the floor of the house, which exploded. the infamous wretch of a white mouse, which had basely deserted his flag, dropped upon his back, and lay as still as though he had actually suffered the extreme penalty of martial law. it must be added that the captain of the firing party was so frightened by the noise of the torpedo that he scampered away into his nest, much to the mortification of leo; but he was recalled, and compelled to face the music at the head of his squad. leo rapped again on the floor, and the defunct mouse was suddenly resurrected. the tragedy completed, the squad was dismissed, and immediately became white mice again, snuffing about the parade, doubtless wondering what had become of the canary seed, which was choice food, served out only on extra occasions. "that is really wonderful," said dr. fisher. "did you train them yourself?" "partly; but my father did most of it," replied leo, who proceeded to explain the method by which the little creatures had been educated. "leo," said the doctor, as he was about to depart, "your sister seems to be a very sensitive young lady. i wanted to ask her some questions; but i did not feel quite equal to it. i will ask them of you; but i wish you to understand that i do so as your friend." the good physician then inquired into the circumstances of the poor barber. leo told him the exact truth, but assured him the family were in no need of assistance, and did not feel like accepting charity. modestly, and with much enthusiasm, he then stated in what manner he intended to support the family. "certainly there are plenty of people who would be glad to have some of your beautiful little pets, especially in these elegant houses you make," added the physician. "i would take one myself if i had time to attend to them." the doctor was a bachelor. "i have no doubt i can sell them, sir." "i hope you will not take it amiss if i mention the fact among my friends and patients that you have them for sale," added dr. fisher. "no, sir; i'm sure i should not! i should be very much obliged to you." "then i will recommend your wares to those who are able to buy them; and i trust you will drive a large trade in the mouse business." the doctor went away; and leo, encouraged by the promise of the powerful influence of his visitor, resumed his work. at twelve o'clock, when maggie called him to dinner, he had made considerable progress in the four houses in process of construction. when he had finished his noonday meal, he went out and found tom casey, an irish boy whom he had befriended in various ways. tom agreed to go with him to state street; and the new "hotel des mice"--as it was labelled in large letters on the front gable--was loaded upon a little wagon of leo's build, and they started for the busy street, attended by a crowd of curious youngsters, of both sexes and of all conditions. [illustration: leo starts for state street.--page .] the mice were astonished at the sudden revolution which was taking place in their affairs; and leo was as anxious as though the fate of the nation depended upon his success. chapter xiii. wittleworth _vs._ checkynshaw. mr. checkynshaw did a rushing business on the day his papers were stolen from the safe; therefore he rushed out of the humble abode of mrs. wittleworth. it is more than probable that he was entirely sincere when he called fitz an idiot; but whether he was or not, that young gentleman's mother was satisfied that truer words had never been spoken. the banker had actually offered to give him ten dollars a week, and fitz had declined to return. it was a degree of lunacy which she could neither understand nor appreciate. she was both grieved and angry. she wept, and reproached the reckless youth. "i must give up in despair, fitz," said she, bitterly. "if i could support you, i would." "i don't want you to support me, mother," replied fitz, stung by the reproach. "if you will leave this matter to me, i will manage it right." "leave it to you, fitz! that would bring starvation to our door." "no, mother; you look on the dark side. here's five dollars for my week's salary," he added, handing her the money. "i give you the whole of it this week." "this may keep off the wolf for a week or two," sighed mrs. wittleworth. "i shall get into another place soon, mother; don't worry about it." "but why didn't you take the place when he offered it to you at double wages, fitz? it seems to me you are crazy." "no, i am not crazy. i know what i am about, and checkynshaw knows what he is about. what do you suppose induced him to double my salary so readily?" "because he saw how poor we were." "what does he care for that? there is no more soul in him than there is in a brickbat, mother. it wouldn't trouble him if you starved to death--though you are his first wife's sister. that wasn't the reason." "what was the reason, then, fitz?" asked she, curiously. "checkynshaw is afraid of me," replied fitz, stopping in his walk up and down the room, and looking into his mother's face to note the effect of this startling announcement. "afraid of you, fitz! you are losing your senses!" exclaimed she, with an expression of strong disgust. "it's just as i say, mother. he's afraid of me." "why should he be afraid of you? you are not so very terrible as to alarm a man in his position." "mother, that block of stores ought to be yours. you should have had the income of it ever since checkynshaw came from france with his wife. i tell you that child died of the cholera, when mrs. checkynshaw had it. that is just as plain to me as the nose on a man's face." "nonsense, fitz! do you suppose mr. checkynshaw would keep me out of it if it belonged to me?" "i know he would. i know the man. i haven't been in his office two years for nothing. i keep my eyes open--_i_ do," answered fitz, holding up his head till his neck was stretched to its full length. "checkynshaw may be an honest man, as things go; but you can't make me believe he would give up that block of stores while he could hold on to it by hook or by crook. he wants me under his thumb, where he can know what i'm about. he has lost his papers, and he feels nervous about them. in my opinion, there's something or other among those documents which would let the light in upon that block of stores. that's why he is so anxious to find out where they are. that's why he don't care for the money that was stolen. he knows what he is about, and i know what i'm about." "what is the use for us to think anything about the block of stores? you don't know that little marguerite died," added mrs. wittleworth, interested, in spite of herself, in the extravagant pretensions of her son. "i don't know it, i admit; but i think we ought to find out. checkynshaw says the child is still living with the sisters of charity, somewhere in france. we have nothing but his word for it." "that's enough. he says the child is living, and he don't like to have her ill-treated by her mother-in-law. she is happy at the boarding school, and when her education is finished, doubtless she will come home." "that's all bosh! did any one ever see a letter from her? did checkynshaw ever write a letter to her? does he ever send her any money?" "but he goes to see her every year or two, when he visits europe." "perhaps he does, and then perhaps he don't. did any one else ever see the child? has any one any knowledge of her existence except through checkynshaw? i think not. don't tell me, mother, that a man would leave his daughter in a foreign country for ten years, and only go to see her every year or two. in my opinion,--and i think my opinion is worth something,--the child died in the hospital. checkynshaw keeps up this fiction because it puts five or six thousand dollars a year into his pocket. no one has ever claimed the block of stores, and of course he will hold on to it till some one does." mrs. wittleworth could not help thinking, while starvation or the almshouse stared her full in the face, what a blessing that block of stores would be to her. if her sister's child was dead, it rightfully belonged to her. it was certainly proper for mr. checkynshaw to prove that marguerite was still living, or at least to satisfy her privately on the point. "what can we do, fitz?" she asked. "what can we do, mother? that's the question. when i was in summer street, this evening, i thought i would call upon my friend choate. choate is a gentleman and a scholar--he is." "pshaw, fitz!" ejaculated the poor woman. "why _will_ you talk about your friend choate? he is not your friend. he would not touch you with a ten-foot pole. he looks down upon you from an infinite height." "not he. choate always treats everybody like a gentleman. he always treated me like a gentleman. i believe in choate--i do." "it is ridiculous for you to talk about his being your friend." "he is my friend in very deed. i called upon him at his residence, in winthrop place, this evening. he treated me like a gentleman. he was glad to see me. he shook hands with me, and welcomed me to his house, as though i had been the governor of the state. everett was there, and winthrop came in before i left. i heard them speak of webster, and i suppose he was expected. i was introduced to everett and winthrop." "you!" exclaimed his mother. "i, mother!" "poor child, they were making fun of you!" sighed mrs. wittleworth. "not they. everett bowed to me as gracefully as though i had been the president. winthrop was a little stiff; but what did i care for him, as long as choate and everett were on good terms with me?" "your head is turned, fitz." "no matter if it is, so long as it is turned in the right direction. choate told everett and winthrop that i had formerly occupied a place in his office, and that he had a high regard for me. he smiled pleasantly, and so did everett. winthrop didn't take much notice of me. choate asked me if i wanted to see him for anything particular. i told him i did; i wanted a little legal advice in the matter of wittleworth _vs._ checkynshaw. he smiled very kindly upon me; he smiled as only choate can smile." "what did he say to you?" demanded mrs. wittleworth, impatiently. "he apologized for his inability to attend to the case at that time, as he was engaged upon a matter of politics with everett and winthrop; but he hoped he should find time to see me in the course of a week. of course i didn't care about breaking up his conference with everett and winthrop; so i apologized for the interruption, and promised him i would call upon him at his office the next day." "i suppose he was very sorry he could not attend to the case," added mrs. wittleworth. "he appeared to be. he expressed his regrets; and, as he was attending to the affairs of the nation, i could not be hard on him, you know." "certainly not," said his mother, amused in spite of the weakness of her son. "choate is a good fellow--choate is," added fitz, rubbing his chin, and puffing out his lips. "when he gets hold of this case, he will make things fly, mother." "what are you going to do, fitz?" asked mrs. wittleworth, seriously. "i'm not going to mince the matter any longer. i am going to bring a suit against checkynshaw for the block of stores, and the income received from them for the last ten years," replied fitz, magnificently. "you are!" "i am; that is, when i say i am, of course i am going to do it in your name, for i am the next heir to you. that will bring things to a head, and we shall soon find out whether checkynshaw is ready to stand trial or not." "we have no money to go to law with," pleaded the poor woman. "we don't want any, mother. i have looked into this business, and what i don't know about it isn't worth knowing. i know something about law, for i used to keep my eyes and ears open when i was in the law business." mr. wittleworth had been an errand boy in mr. choate's office! "i don't think you can go to law without money, fitz. i have always heard it was very expensive," added mrs. wittleworth. "all we want, mother, is a copy of my grandfather's will. we attach the block of stores, if necessary. under the will it belongs to you, unless checkynshaw can produce your sister's child." "suppose he should produce her?" "that's the very thing he can't do. if he does, of course our case falls to the ground; but he can't." "but if he does produce the child, where is the money to pay the expenses?" "the expenses won't be much. i shall say to choate, 'choate,' says i, 'here's a piece of property which belongs to my mother. you can go up to the registry of probate, and read the will yourself. give my mother legal possession of it, and i will pay you five or ten thousand dollars'--i haven't just decided exactly what to offer him. he takes the case, brings the suit, and gets the property for you." "suppose he doesn't get it?" "then he will get nothing. when i was in the law business, cases were sometimes taken in this way." mrs. wittleworth was encouraged by this hopeful statement, and disposed to let fitz have his own way. abject poverty was so terrible that she could not afford to lose such a chance. mr. checkynshaw's conduct in leaving his child in france, among strangers, for ten years, was singular enough to beget suspicion. the conversation was continued till the fire went out, and the chill air of the room drove the intended litigants to their chambers. fitz did not come down till breakfast time the next morning. he lay in his warm bed, building castles in the air, and thinking what a great man he should be when the block of stores and its revenues were reclaimed from the grasp of mr. checkynshaw. he thought it quite possible that he could then go into a barber's shop and be shaved without any one having the impudence to laugh at him. mrs. wittleworth had thought a great deal about the property, but she could not quite make up her mind to take such decided steps as those indicated by her son. if the attempt was made, and proved to be a failure, mr. checkynshaw would never forgive her, and might injure her in revenge. when she came down stairs, she had decided to call upon the banker, and state the case to him. if he chose to satisfy her that marguerite was still living, it would save trouble and future disappointment. "you can see him if you like, mother. i have no doubt he will smooth you over. checkynshaw is a plausible man--checkynshaw is. he carries too many guns for a woman. i would call myself if it were not for letting myself down to his level," said mr. wittleworth, stroking his chin, when his mother was ready to go. "don't be so silly, fitz!" "checkynshaw won't stand trial, in my opinion. he is shrewd--he is." "i only intend to ask him what he means to do," added mrs. wittleworth. "he means to hold on to the property--that's what he means to do, mother. he may try to buy you off--don't do it, on any account. leave this matter all to me. me and choate will fix it right. now, be careful what you do." "i will not do anything," said his mother, as she put on her bonnet. "i will see choate to-day. me and choate will touch off a volcano under checkynshaw's feet in the course of a week or two," he added, as his mother left the house. chapter xiv. mr. checkynshaw is liberal. mrs. wittleworth went directly to the door of the private office. she had her doubts in regard to the interview which was to take place. mr. checkynshaw had never treated her very handsomely. she had called upon him only once since the downfall of her husband. the banker had listened very coldly to her story of hardship and suffering. he had taken fitz into his employ at that time; but her reception was so cold, and the great man's manner so forbidding, that she had resolved that nothing but imminent starvation should induce her to repeat the visit. mr. checkynshaw was a hard, selfish, money-getting man. he was not one whom a poor relative would willingly approach with a tale of suffering. though this was not mrs. wittleworth's present errand, she dreaded the result almost as much as though she had been an applicant for charity. the banker was overbearing and haughty in his way. he bullied his social inferiors, and looked upon them from a height which was appalling to them. she opened the door and entered. the banker was alone, sitting in the stuffed arm-chair at his desk. "ellen?" said he, glancing at her with an inquiring look, probably satisfied that she had come to plead for the return of her son to the place from which he had been discharged. it did not occur to him that human impudence could extend so far as to permit such people to bring a suit against him for their rights, however well defined or clearly established. if he owed them anything, or they had any claims against him, it was their duty to be solemnly impressed by the loftiness of his social position, and humbly to beg for what belonged to them. "i thought i would come up and see you this morning, mr. checkynshaw," stammered the poor woman; and poverty had so subdued her, and so broken her spirit, that she hardly knew how to introduce the subject upon her mind. "if you come to ask me to take fitz back, it will do no good. you permit the puppy to insult me," replied the banker, in the most forbidding tones. "i don't permit him to insult you. i did what i could to make him speak properly to you," replied mrs. wittleworth, meekly. "it's all the same; it was bad bringing up. i can't have him in my office again," added mr. checkynshaw, though at that moment, for some reason best known to himself, he would have been very glad to forgive the young man's insolence, and take him back at double salary. "that boy has outraged my good-nature. when i saw how hard the times were with you, i was willing to give him double wages; but the ingrate only insulted me for it." "he is very wilful; i wish he was not so headstrong." "i can't take him back now; at least not till he has apologized for his impudence, and promised better things for the future," continued the banker, shaking his head, as though his mind was firmly made up for the issue. "i did not come to ask you to take him back," added mrs. wittleworth. "o, you didn't!" "no, sir; he is not yet willing to come." "what did you come for--to beg?" "i don't come to you to beg," replied she with a little display of spirit. "what do you want, then?" "you mustn't be angry with me, mr. checkynshaw." "i'm not angry with you. if you have anything to say, say it. i hate long stories," said the banker, impatiently. "fitz has taken it into his head that the block of stores which my father gave to mary belongs to us," continued mrs. wittleworth, looking down to the floor, as if fearful that the great man's glance would blast her if she beheld it. "has he, indeed?" if mrs. wittleworth had looked at the banker instead of the floor, she might have seen that his face flushed slightly; that his lip quivered, and his chest heaved; but, as she did not look at him, the banker had time to suppress these tell-tale emotions. "he thinks so; and he seems to be determined that something shall be done about it," added the poor woman, still gazing intently at the floor. "and you encourage such ridiculous notions--do you, ellen?" said mr. checkynshaw, severely. "i don't know that i encourage them. i can't help his thoughts." "probably you don't wish to help them. well, you can do as you please about it. if you choose to get him and yourself into difficulty, i suppose nothing i can say will have any influence with you." "i don't want to get into trouble, or to spend any money in going to law." "i should judge, from the appearance of your house, that you hadn't much to spend in that way," sneered the banker. "i have not, indeed. i said all i could to dissuade fitz from doing anything about the matter; but he is bent upon it. he has been to see mr. choate about it." "to see mr. choate!" exclaimed the banker, springing out of his chair; and now his face was deadly pale. but in an instant mr. checkynshaw was conscious that he was revealing the weakness of his position, and he sat down in his chair again, with a placid smile upon his face. "am i to understand that fitz and you intend to fight me in the law upon this matter?" demanded he, with a sardonic grin on his face, indicating both fear and malice. "fitz says there will be no fighting about it. we are to bring a suit to recover the property, according to the terms of my father's will, with the income for ten years." "fitz says so--does he?" "he thinks marguerite died when your present wife had the cholera. he says all you have to do is to produce the child. if you do, that will be the end of it; if not, the property certainly belongs to us." "what makes fitz think that marguerite is not living?" asked mr. checkynshaw, more mildly than he had yet spoken. "well, he has his reasons," replied she, not quite certain that she might not say something which would compromise her son. "what are his reasons?" "i don't know that it is necessary to mention them. i think myself it is very strange that you haven't brought her home. she must be fifteen years old by this time." "that is her age." "i don't want any trouble about this business, mr. checkynshaw; so i thought i would come up and see you. perhaps you can show me some letters from marguerite, or something else that will convince fitz that she is alive." "i have no letters here." "have you any at your house?" asked mrs. wittleworth. "not that i am aware of. i never preserve any but business letters. if i understand you, ellen, fitz's modest claim is for the block of stores and the income of them for the last ten years." "that's what he said." "are you aware of the amount of this claim?" asked the banker, nervously. "i don't know, exactly." "i suppose not," said mr. checkynshaw, pausing to reflect. "i don't wish to bring marguerite home till her education is completed, and this thing may cause me some annoyance." "i'm sure i don't want to annoy you," pleaded mrs. wittleworth. "perhaps you do not; but fitz does. if you refuse to be a party to this suit, of course he can do nothing. he has no rights yet in the premises himself, and he is under age." "i think myself the matter ought to be settled up somehow or other," replied mrs. wittleworth, timidly. "i am so poor i can hardly keep soul and body together, and fitz has lost his place." "i will give him his place, at ten dollars a week. i will see that you have a good house, properly furnished, and a sufficient income to live on. if i had known that you were so badly off, i should have done something for you before. why didn't you come to me?" "i don't like to ask favors; besides, we have been able to get along till times came on so hard this winter that i couldn't get any work." "i don't wish to be bothered with this thing, and be compelled to go to france in the middle of the winter after marguerite. fitz saw that he could annoy me, and he has taken this means to vent his spite upon me. but the suit depends upon you. he can do nothing without you. mr. choate will have nothing to do with it. he doesn't take cases of this kind; but fitz can find some unprincipled lawyer who will undertake the case, and compel me to derange my plans." "could you show me some letters from marguerite, or some bill you have paid for her board or tuition?" "perhaps i may be able to find something of the kind at my house. i'll see. but i think we had better settle up this business between ourselves, without fitz." mr. checkynshaw looked troubled, and mrs. wittleworth could see it now. "how can we settle it, if you have nothing to show me to prove that marguerite is living?" asked the poor woman. "marguerite is living, or was eighteen months ago, when i was in france." "haven't you heard from her for eighteen months?" "of course i have; but that is neither here nor there. i don't wish to be annoyed in this way, or to have your son boasting that he has a claim on me. i don't choose to submit to that sort of thing any longer. neither is it my intention to bring marguerite home till she is eighteen years old. she is very much attached to the institution in which she spent her childhood." "i should think you would wish to see her oftener than once in two years," added mrs. wittleworth, the remark prompted by her woman's heart. "so i would. but you know just how it is. i can't bring her home without having trouble in my family; and she is perfectly happy where she is. i ought to have done more for you, ellen, than i have; but i didn't know the world went so hard with you. i blame myself for not thinking more about it; but i am plunged in business, so that i hardly have time to think of my own family. i don't see how i can do it in any other way than by settling a fixed sum upon you at once. then i can do all that i have to do at one time, and you will not have to depend upon my bad memory." "i'm sure i've no claims on you of that kind," replied mrs. wittleworth, amazed at this outburst of generosity. "i know you have no legal claims upon me; but you are the sister of my first wife. i have not forgotten her yet, and i never shall," continued mr. checkynshaw, with a gush of sentiment such as the poor woman had never before seen proceed from him. "property from your father's estate came into my family, and it would not be right for me to permit you to want for the comforts of life, to say nothing of the necessities. i'm going to do something for you here and now--something so that you shall not be dependent upon fitz, whether i forget you for the time or not. do you think you could live on the income of ten thousand dollars a year? that would be six hundred dollars, or about twelve dollars a week." "that is more than i have had for years," gasped mrs. wittleworth. "very well; i will give you a check for that sum; or i will invest it for you in the best paying stocks i can find." "you are too good! i did not expect this!" exclaimed the poor woman, wiping the tears from her eyes. "i shall do no more than my duty--what i ought to have done before," replied the banker, magnanimously. "and, by the way, it would be as well for you to sign a paper, so as to set this business at rest, and prevent fitz from annoying me," said the banker, as he took down his check-book, and shuffled the papers about the desk with assumed indifference. "what paper am i to sign?" asked mrs. wittleworth, beginning to open her eyes. "i mean a quitclaim deed on the block of stores; but of course that has nothing to do with the ten thousand dollars i am to pay you." mrs. wittleworth knew what a quitclaim deed was. it was a deed by which she relinquished all her right, title, and interest in the block of stores. "i think i will not sign it to-day, mr. checkynshaw," said she, rather fearfully. the banker urged her in vain. fitz had warned her against such a step, and she had more confidence in fitz's judgment at that moment than ever before. "very well; i will have the deed drawn, and fill out the check ready for you the next time you call," added the banker, more disappointed than his manner indicated. mrs. wittleworth went home. chapter xv. a success in the mouse business. "now, tom, if you will draw the wagon, i will steady the house, and see that the mice don't get out and run away," said leo, when he had drawn the chariot of the beauties a short distance. "small loss if they do," replied tom casey, who had already made up his mind that they were going on a fool's errand. "not a bit of it, tom. these mice are worth fifty cents a pair," added leo, as he placed himself by the house, and his companion took the pole of the wagon. "fifty cints--is it? sure who'd give fifty cints for those bits o' crayturs? i wouldn't give fifty cints for a tousand of 'em, let alone a pair of 'em." "when i come back with five or six dollars in my pocket, which i shall get for this establishment, you will change your tune, tom." "well, the house is foist rate, and you may get five dollars for that. sure i think it's worth it; but i wouldn't give two cints for all the mice that's in it." "perhaps you wouldn't, tom. you haven't any taste for white mice." "taste--is it? sure, would anyone ate 'em?" tom casey was a recent importation from the green isle, and the emerald dust had not been rubbed off him by the civilizing and humanizing influence of the public schools; but he brought with him from ireland a big heart, which was worth more than polish and refinement, though both go very well together. in spite of the grave responsibility which rested upon him, leo laughed heartily at the blunder, and took the trouble to explain the meaning of taste in its artistic sense. the procession--for the crowd of boys and girls was augmented continually when the mouse-car reached high street--advanced towards its destination, and leo had all he could do to keep the youngsters from crowding upon and upsetting the wagon, in their eagerness to see the mice and their magnificent dwelling-house. "just twig 'em, jimmy!" shouted one who had tipped over half a dozen of his companions in his enthusiasm. "their tails is as long as seven's rope." "hotel dees mice," said another, spelling out the sign over the grand parade. "what does that mean, billy?" "they're going to take 'em to a hotel to make soup of. i guess there's some chinamen at the tremont. they say them coveys eats rats. twig the red eyes they has!" leo kept the youngsters at bay as well as he could, and hurried tom along, till they reached state street, where he took a stand in front of the exchange. a crowd of curious merchants, clerks, and curb-stone brokers immediately gathered around the palace to examine the structure and its inhabitants. it was a novel establishment, and excited no little attention. "what have you there, my boy?" asked a well-dressed gentleman, working his way into the interior of the ring. "white mice, sir," replied leo. "they are cunning little creatures," added the gentleman, bending down and looking into the grand parade, where the mice were now feeding on canary seed. they had become somewhat accustomed to the crowd, and, as if conscious that they were for sale, put the best foot forward. "what's the price of them?" asked the gentleman. "six dollars for the mice and house," replied leo; but the words almost choked him. "six dollars!" exclaimed the questioner, edging off. "that's a very modest price, young man." "the mice bring fifty cents a pair, and there's a great deal of work in the house, besides the stock." "but you don't expect any one to give you six dollars for a trap like that, with half a dozen rats in it--do you?" "i think it is worth that, sir. do you wish to buy it?" "i thought it would amuse my children; but i can't think of giving anything like six dollars for it," added the gentleman, shaking his head. "what would you be willing to give for it?" "i'll give you a dollar for it." "no, sir, i couldn't think of selling it at any such price as that. i would give it away before i would sell it for that," replied leo, indignant at having his work so grossly undervalued. "i will give you two dollars for it. i have a little lame boy at home, who can't go out, and i am willing to give two for it." "i will not sell it for less than five dollars, sir." "why, that's a rascally price!" exclaimed the proposed purchaser. "five dollars for a mere rat-trap!" "that's my lowest price, sir. if you don't want it, the law don't compel you to take it," added leo, vexed to have the person run down his handiwork. the gentleman backed out of the crowd, and disappeared. leo thought he could not care much for his little lame boy, if he was not willing to pay five dollars for such an elegant establishment as the "_hôtel des mice_," which could not help being a very great pleasure to the invalid. half a dozen others looked into the palace, asked questions about the habits of the mice, and inquired the price of the house and its inmates. leo answered them all very politely; but they laughed and sneered when he mentioned the six dollars. the "mouse business" did not seem so prosperous as leo had anticipated. he had been confident that a dozen persons would want the elegant establishment, and he was not quite sure there would not be a quarrel among them for the possession of it at the price he named. he could not see why these rich merchants and bankers should haggle at six dollars if they had any children at home. his heart began to feel heavy in his bosom, for he had expected to sell his present stock of merchandise as soon as he named the price, and to find half a dozen more who would want them badly enough to give him advance orders. there appeared to be a discount on the mouse business. the gentlemen in state street were singularly cold and wanting in enthusiasm on the subject of white mice. it began to look like a failure, and tom casey seemed to be a true prophet. what an inglorious termination to his career as a mouse merchant it would be to drag the palace back to no. phillimore court, and tell maggie that no one would buy it, even at the moderate price of five dollars! but leo soon realized that he was becoming chicken-hearted; that he was almost in despair even before he had been half an hour in the field. this was not his usual style, and he was ashamed of it, as he considered his weakness. "make or break!" exclaimed he, slapping his hand upon his chest, and throwing his shoulders back, as if to stiffen his frame. "i'll stick to it till something breaks. this is a new business, and i must _make_ the trade." the effect of this slapping of the chest and this stiffening of the frame was immediately apparent in his demeanor, for they were the visible manifestations of a firm will. he was more cheerful, answered inquiries more briskly, and was less affected by adverse criticism of his handicraft. men asked the price, sneered, and turned away. there were plenty to admire his workmanship, but as yet none to buy. while leo was thus struggling against the tide of fortune, the crowd opened, and mr. checkynshaw appeared within the ring. he was a great man, and he showed it in his manner--perhaps more in his manner than in any other way. mrs. wittleworth had taken leave of the banker an hour before, and since that time he had been alone in his private office, only occasionally interrupted by a business call. mr. checkynshaw was troubled. fitz was a thorn in his flesh and a stumbling-block in his path. doubtless it was very annoying for the father of marguerite to break up the educational and social relations she had sustained from early childhood. doubtless it was very wicked of fitz to put him to all this trouble for nothing. perhaps it was rash in him to discharge his clerk; but fitz was so airy and impudent, that a decent self-respect would not permit him to tolerate his insolence. mr. checkynshaw wrote a letter, upon which he labored for a long time; for the letter appeared to be full of difficulties. he finished it at last; but, instead of enclosing it in an envelope, he folded it up and put it into his pocket. then he took his hat, drew on his overcoat, and went out. he visited a stationery store in the lower part of the street, purchased some french paper and envelopes, and walked up the street till he saw the crowd in front of the exchange, which had gathered around the "_hôtel des mice_." "what have you here, boy?" he asked, when he recognized leo. "white mice, sir. my father can't work now, and i am going to try and make something by selling them," replied leo, cheerfully. "what is the price?" demanded the banker, rather curtly. "six dollars, sir." "i'll take it, boy," replied mr. checkynshaw, with a promptness which astonished the young mechanic. the banker took the money from his pocket-book and handed it to leo. "good on your head!" whispered tom casey, his eyes opening as wide as teacups when he saw the bank bills; and his dark prophecy was suddenly demolished. "you know where i live?" interrogated mr. checkynshaw. "yes, sir." "take it up to the house, then," added the banker. "i will, sir;" and leo thought the great man, as his first customer, was worthy of his reputation. just then the gentleman who had the lame boy pushed his way into the middle of the ring. "what's the lowest price you will take for the concern?" said he. "it is sold, sir," replied leo, triumphantly. "sold!" exclaimed the tardy customer, who appeared to think that no one could be foolish enough to buy such an establishment unless he had a lame son. "yes, sir; i just sold it." "what did you get?" "six dollars." "i bought it," interposed mr. checkynshaw, bowing to the other gentleman, as though he knew him. "i'm sorry i didn't take it, for it would have pleased my boy." "you are too late." "but i will get up another for you," said leo, exhilarated by this sudden improvement of the mouse business. "when can you do it?" asked the gentleman, who was quite disappointed to find he could not purchase the establishment at his own price, as he had expected to do at a later hour in the day, after the young man had had an opportunity to consider the vanity of worldly hopes. "that depends upon what kind of one you want. if you wish for one like this, i can't get it done before monday. i can give you a two-dollar house, with one pair of mice, to-morrow," replied leo, in the most business-like tones. "i want the best one you can get up. i want one as good or better than this." "i will build one as good as this. i will have it at your house on monday; but the price will be six dollars." "very well. i thought i should be able to buy this one for two or three dollars before night, for i didn't think any one else would want it." probably the example of mr. checkynshaw had some influence on the customer. if white mice and their habitations were really articles of merchandise, he was willing to pay the market price. leo wrote down his name and residence, and assured the gentleman that he should have the mice on monday; or, if he got the house done, on saturday. "don't you want an establishment of this kind, baxter?" asked mr. checkynshaw of a busy person who had worked his way through the crowd. "you have two or three boys." mr. baxter examined the palace and its denizens, and answered that he did want one, though not till the banker informed him that he had purchased one. it is wonderful how things sell after a great man has purchased. the new customer did not want any two-dollar palaces; he desired one as good as any other person had, and he gave his order accordingly. if mr. checkynshaw was fool enough to pay six dollars for such an establishment, mr. baxter could not suffer in reputation by doing the same. leo was as happy as a lord. it was make, and not break. "leo," said the banker, "how is your father?" "better, sir, i thank you." "i think i will go down and see him. he has shaved me for years. by the way, is your sister--what's her name?" "maggie, sir." "is maggie at home?" "yes, sir." "i wish to see her very much," said mr. checkynshaw, walking away. what could he want to see maggie for? was leo's thought, as he started his team--tom casey--up state street. chapter xvi. the letter from marguerite. mr. checkynshaw walked down to no. phillimore court. it was very plain that he had business there, for it was not his style to visit a poor man who was sick. he was admitted by maggie, who feared that his coming related to the robbery of his safe, and that leo might be in some manner implicated in that affair. "how is your father, miss?" asked the stately gentleman from state street, as he entered the house. "he is more comfortable to-day, sir; but i don't know that he is really any better," answered maggie. "i am very sorry he is sick. i miss him very much. he has waited upon me at the shop for several years, and i never let any other barber shave me, if i can have him by waiting an hour," added mr. checkynshaw, with a degree of condescension which he rarely exhibited. "you are his daughter, i believe." "not his own daughter; but it is just the same." "i think i have seen you at the shop several times." "yes, i always carry up _mon père's_ dinner at half past twelve. he can't come home at noon." "_mon père!_ you speak french--do you?" "yes, sir. i speak french and english equally well. won't you go in and see _mon père_!" mr. checkynshaw would be very glad to see andré, and maggie conducted him to the front room. "i am sorry you are sick, andré," said the great man. "thank you, sir. it is very kind of you to call upon me," replied andré, amazed at the gracious mien of one who had rarely spoken to him save in the tones of authority, addressing him as a menial and an inferior. "i always feel an interest in those i see every day; but the fact that you were taken sick at my house probably brought the matter more directly to my attention. are you comfortably provided for, andré?" asked the rich man, glancing around the room. "yes, sir; thank you, sir. i have everything i need," replied andré, faintly; for he was not quite so sure of what he said as he wished to be, though his pride and independence revolted at any suggestion of charity. "i saw leo up in state street. your boy's name is leo--isn't it?" asked the banker, just as though it derogated from his dignity to know the name of a poor boy like the barber's son. "yes, sir; his name is leo," replied maggie, taking up the conversation, so that the invalid might not be compelled to talk too much. "he is driving quite a trade in white mice," laughed the great man. "has he met with any success, sir?" asked maggie, who felt that everything depended upon leo's exertions; and she hardly expected him to accomplish anything in the mouse business. "yes, he has been remarkably successful, i should say." "i am so glad!" "i bought the house he had with him for six dollars, and he has orders for two more just like it, at the same price. that will give him quite a lift, i hope." "indeed it will!" exclaimed maggie, delighted with the good news. "eighteen dollars for white mice, _mon père_," she added, turning to andré. "that is very good indeed!" said the barber. "leo is a brave boy." "knowing that you had a family, andré, and that your wages were not very large, i thought i would inquire into the matter a little. i should be very glad to help you." "thank you, mr. checkynshaw," replied andré, in his feminine tones, weakened by his sickness. "i think we do not need any help--do we, maggie?" "no, _mon père_, especially as leo is doing so well. i think we shall get along well enough." "i am afraid you are too proud to be very poor," said the banker, glancing at maggie. "we have always got along very well, and i think we shall in the future. leo says he shall do great things; and i hope he will." "then leo is to support the family," added mr. checkynshaw, fixing his gaze upon the fair girl, who seemed to him altogether too delicate and refined to be a poor man's daughter. "perhaps i maybe able to do something by and by, when _mon père_ gets better." "what can you do?" "i can sew, and do any work that i can take home with me." "ah, _ma fille_, you can take in no work. i shall soon be able to go to the shop again," interposed andré. "i have a great deal of spare time, _mon père_. i am able, and o, i am so willing to work for you!" "perhaps i may be of service to you," suggested mr. checkynshaw. "thank you, sir." "you speak french, miss, i think you said," added the banker, with an assumed indifference. "yes, sir." "can you write it correctly?" "yes, sir, i think i can." "maggie is a very good scholar, and she writes french quite as well as she does english." "perhaps you will be willing to give me a specimen of your skill in translating." "certainly, sir, if you desire it." mr. checkynshaw took from his pocket the letter he had written in his private office, and the french note paper he had purchased at the stationery store, and handed them to her. "if you will sit down in the other room, and give me a translation into french of this letter, i can at once determine whether you would be of any service to us. if you are, we will pay you very liberally; but most of our work of this kind is translating french into english." "i will try, sir," replied maggie. "i will stay here with your father while you do it." maggie went into the rear room; and in less than half an hour she produced a translation of the letter handed to her. "that is excellently well done, miss," said mr. checkynshaw, when he had glanced at the translation. "you write a beautiful hand. it is even better than my daughter's." "you are very kind, sir." "i will keep this as a specimen of your work. here are two dollars for the job," added mr. checkynshaw, as he gave her the money. "indeed, sir, you are too kind. i don't ask any money for that." "take it, maggie; i always pay people that work for me, especially when they do their work as well as you have done this. take it, miss, or i shall be offended." it was not safe to offend such a munificent patron, and maggie took the money, blushing as she did so. mr. checkynshaw folded up the translation, and put it into his pocket; and, promising to send her some more letters in a few days, he took his leave. the banker went back to his private office. after ransacking his papers for a long time, he found an old letter directed to him, in the care of the firm, postmarked at paris, with a french postage stamp upon it. into the envelope of this letter he thrust the translation which maggie had made. the banker seated himself in his arm-chair, put his feet on the desk, and lighted a cigar. mr. checkynshaw held to the pernicious belief that smoking soothed the nerves of an excited man. he smoked and thought for a while, till his meditations were disturbed by the entrance of mrs. wittleworth and fitz. "i hope you will excuse me for coming again so soon, mr. checkynshaw," said mrs. wittleworth, timidly. "i hope you'll excuse _me_ too," added fitz, thrusting his thumbs into the arm-holes of his vest, and pursing up his under lip, as he had a habit of doing when he particularly realized his own importance. he stood with his hat on his head--a narrow-brimmed "stove-pipe," which young men were more in the habit of wearing at that period than at the present time. he was the impersonation of impudence and self-conceit, and the banker looked angry enough to annihilate him. "i thought i would come and see if you had anything to show me from marguerite," continued mrs. wittleworth, after the banker had bestowed a look of supreme contempt upon fitz. "i have something to show you," replied mr. checkynshaw, taking the old envelope which contained maggie's translation from his pocket, and handing it to her. fitz was rather taken aback by this ready reply, and by the sight of the musty envelope. his nether lip actually returned to its normal position under the shock. "this is from marguerite--is it?" asked mrs. "wittleworth. "it is from marguerite," replied mr. checkynshaw. "what is it, mother? open it. don't be humbugged," said fitz. the poor woman opened the letter, and looked blankly at its contents. "it is in french," she added. "marguerite always writes her letters in french," added the banker. "because she knows you can't read a word of french," sneered fitz. "no impudence, young man!" "don't, fitz!" pleaded mrs. wittleworth. "mr. checkynshaw, this business must be settled between me and you. you will not be permitted to take advantage of a woman's weakness to impose upon her," added fitz, magnificently. "if you use any impudence in this office, young man, i shall kick you out to-day as i did yesterday." "mr. checkynshaw, i have my own views and opinions on this subject, and i claim the privilege of expressing them as a gentleman should. i have been to see choate on this business; and me and choate will see that justice is done to the unfortunate." "be still, fitz!" said his mother. "i will not be still, mother," protested mr. wittleworth. "i will not stand still and have you imposed upon." the banker sprang out of his chair, and his late clerk retreated a pace or two. "mr. checkynshaw, i have only one word to say," he added, placing himself near enough to the door to effect a hasty retreat in case of necessity. "my mother is disposed to accept your offer of ten thousand dollars for a quitclaim deed of the block of stores. i don't intend that she shall do anything of the kind. i've been to my lawyer, sir--a gentleman recommended by choate; for choate is so busy that he can't attend to the case personally; and my lawyer says that none but a _non compos_ would give a quitclaim deed to the property. if my mother sees fit to sign any such paper, my lawyer will take steps to restrain her, sir. those are my views. i've nothing more to say, mr. checkynshaw." mr. wittleworth tipped his hat over on one side, thrust his thumbs into his arm-holes, and pursed up his lips again, as though he had already set the river on fire. his mother was angry and disgusted with him, as she often had occasion to be. "is the quitclaim deed ready, mr. checkynshaw?" asked the poor woman. "no; but it shall be ready, and the check with it to-morrow." "mother," exclaimed fitz, in warning tones,--and he evidently did not place much dependence upon the restraining power of his lawyer,--"you promised not to sign any paper to-day." "and you promised to behave yourself, fitz, if i permitted you to come with me. i can't depend upon you, and i am going to accept mr. checkynshaw's offer," retorted his mother, sharply. "you are?" gasped fitz. "i am; and if the paper was ready, i would sign it this moment. will you let me take this letter home with me, mr. checkynshaw?" "certainly, ellen," replied the banker, graciously. "i used to read french a little when i was a girl, and i may be able to study out some of it." "as you like; but when you come again, don't bring that boy with you." mrs. wittleworth and her son retired. on their way home, an angry discussion ensued. fitz raved at the weakness of women in general, and of his mother in particular; but she firmly declared, even if she was satisfied that marguerite was not living, she would sign the deed. in the house, both of them examined the letter. fitz did not know a word of french, and his mother could only make out "_mon cher père_," and an occasional word in the letter. "i will tell you what we can do, mother. andré maggimore, round in phillimore court, is a frenchman, and can talk french like a dutchman." "but he is very sick, you said." "so he is. well, his daughter maggie can read it. i will take it to her this evening." after supper, fitz, with the letter in his pocket, started for the barber's house. chapter xvii. the letter from france. leo conducted his team to pemberton square, and knocked at the back door of the rich man's house. one of the kitchen girls answered the summons, and great was her surprise when she saw the palace of the mice. it was taken into the kitchen, and mrs. checkynshaw was called. she came down, accompanied by miss elinora. leo explained that the banker had purchased the establishment, and that he had been directed to deliver it. elinora, though she had sat up late the night before at the party, and had been very ill-natured all day, was surprised into a smile of pleasure when she saw the cunning little creatures in their curious house. leo gave them some canary seed, of which he carried a supply in his pocket, in order to induce the pets to exhibit themselves when desired. they had behaved very well thus far, and had produced a favorable impression upon all who had seen them. elinora was pleased with the mice because they promised to afford her a new sensation. "i think i'll have them in my chamber, mother, where i can see them," said she, after she had looked at them a while. "i wouldn't have them in my chamber, miss," replied leo. "why, not?" "they sleep in the daytime, and train in the night. they would rattle about the house so that you could not sleep." "i will have them in my dressing-room, then," added she. "that's not exactly the place for them," continued leo, who had not a very clear idea of what the dressing-room was. "where would you keep them, then?" asked elinora, petulantly. "in the kitchen, or the back room." "what, keep such a pretty cage as that in the kitchen?" exclaimed the rich man's daughter. "you can see it just as well in the kitchen as in the parlor, and it is just as handsome in one place as another, miss. white mice are pretty little creatures, miss; but, like rabbits, squirrels, and other animals, they have an odor of their own which isn't pleasant, especially when they are shut up in a warm room," leo explained, with a smile to soften the disparaging remark, for he didn't like to say anything against the pets. "i don't want them, then," said elinora, turning up her delicate nose. "they won't trouble you if you have them well cared for, and keep them in a proper place. a horse is a very fine animal; but you would not find him agreeable in the parlor," added leo. "there's a nice place for them;" and he pointed to the washroom, through which he had entered the kitchen. "you can come down and see them when you wish, and they won't trouble any one out there." mrs. checkynshaw decided to have the house put up in the wash-room, as leo suggested, and the young mechanic volunteered to do the work. he had brought with him a couple of wooden brackets and some screws, and, with the assistance of tom casey, he put them up, and placed the palace upon them. mrs. checkynshaw and her daughter watched the operation with interest, and asked a great many questions about the mice and their habits. leo talked and worked, and by the time he had finished the job, he had explained all he knew of the little animals. he told the kitchen girl, who was to take care of them, how to feed them, and how to clean out the cage, admonishing her to do the latter every day. the lady of the house was so well pleased with the zeal and pains displayed by the young mechanic, that she gave him half a dollar for the extra labor he had performed; and leo and tom left the house. "it's a good job you've done the day," said tom, as they walked down the square. "i've done first rate, tom. i've sold my work for a fair price, and got two more jobs. i'm lucky, and i'm very grateful, too, for my good fortune. tom, i'll give you the half dollar the lady handed to me for your share of the work." "go way wid you! i won't take it!" protested the irish boy. "yes, you must, tom. you have helped me. i don't know how i should have got along without you." "niver you mind that. your ould man is sick, and it's great need you'll have of all the money you can lay your hands on." "but i have made six dollars besides this, and i'm not going to pocket all the plunder. take this, and buy some book you need." tom was finally prevailed upon to accept the half dollar, though he did so under protest. leo was happy--never so happy before in his life. success had crowned his darling scheme, and he entered the house with a radiant smile upon his face. but, in the midst of his exultant joy, he did not forget that his father, for whose sake he had been stimulated to make this mighty effort, was very sick. as softly as a cat he opened the front door, and carried his wagon down cellar. he was disposed to go to work at once at his bench, and make the two palaces which had been ordered; but he could not resist the temptation to go up and tell maggie what a splendid success he had realized. "how is father?" he asked, in a whisper, as he entered the rear room, where maggie was at work. "he is about the same. he sleeps a great deal, and i hope he will soon be better," she replied. "so you have sold your mouse-house, leo," she added, with a sympathizing smile. "who told you i had?" asked leo, rather provoked that any one had robbed him of the pleasure of telling the triumphant news himself. "mr. checkynshaw has been here," said she, laughing. "did he tell you how much he gave for the mouse-house?" "six dollars; and he said you had orders for two more at the same price. how lucky you are, leo!" "so i am; but i was almost discouraged before i found a single purchaser. if it hadn't been make or break with me, i should have given up, and come home. i feel good now, maggie, i can tell you! if the market for white mice holds good, i shall make my fortune." "i hope it will hold good, at least till father gets well. he was so delighted when he heard of your success!" "i shall finish the two houses ordered this week, if i can, and that will make eighteen dollars--not in a week, but in three days." "twenty, leo," added maggie, with a smile. "twenty? three times six are eighteen," laughed leo. "i made two dollars to-day by translating a letter for mr. checkynshaw; and he has more such work for me to do." "how lucky we are!" exclaimed leo; and he had not lived long enough, or seen enough of the world, to realize that the lucky ones are almost always those who are industrious and energetic--a lesson he was to learn in due time. leo went in to see andré; and the barber declared, that with two such children as he had, he could afford to be sick, and that a terribly heavy load had been removed from his mind. "the good god is kind to me," said he, reverently raising his eyes. "my children are taking care of me while i am helpless, as i took care of them when they were helpless." andré was patient and submissive--not as a philosopher, but as a christian. the great calamity of want had apparently been turned from his door, and he was happy--happy in his heart, even while his frame was suffering. blessed are they in whom christian faith and hope have found a resting-place! in his care for these two children, andré had long before been led to place his trust in things higher than earth, and in striving to guide them in the right path, he had found it himself. leo remained but a few moments in the sick room, and then hastened down to the workshop to commence the jobs for which he had contracted. laying aside the four houses in which he had made some progress, he proceeded to "get out" the lumber for the others. on a paper, stuck up under the window, was the plan of the establishment he had sold to the banker, with all the dimensions written upon it. under the bench he had several hundred feet of half-inch pine boards, which he had purchased with money earned by shovelling off sidewalks. as the plan was already drawn, and he knew exactly how all the parts were to be put together, there was no delay in the work. he had sawed out all the lumber required for the two houses, and had nicely planed the boards, when maggie called him to supper. he had worked very hard, but he did not feel tired. he was never weary of mechanical employment like this, even when doing it with no distinct end in view; but now that he was to keep the wolf from the door, there was an inspiration in the work which lifted him above bodily fatigue. he went to his supper with a keen appetite; but he did not like to spare the time to eat it, and it seemed like a hardship to be compelled to leave the workshop. when he had finished his supper, and was hurrying down stairs, there was a knock at the front door. he hoped it was a customer come to order a mouse-house; but he was disappointed, when he went to the door, to find only fitz wittleworth there. "good evening, leo. is your sister at home?" asked fitz, in his usual patronizing tones. "she is," replied leo, rather coldly, for he could not see what fitz wanted with his sister. "i should like to see her," added fitz, loftily, as though his presence at the house of the barber was a condescension which leo ought to appreciate. "my father is sick, and maggie is busy taking care of him," replied leo, who felt that he was now the guardian of his sister, and he did not want any young men "hanging round," especially such young men as mr. wittleworth. "i wish to see her on business," persisted fitz, annoyed at leo's answers, and the evident want of appreciation of the honor of his visit which the young mechanic exhibited. "i'll speak to her. won't you come in?" fitz would come in, and he did. he was shown to the rear room, where maggie was clearing off the supper table. fitz was a young "man of the world," and as imitative as a monkey. he had once moved in what he called "good society," and was familiar with all the little courtesies of life. he expressed his regret at the illness of andré in the most courtly terms, and his sympathy with maggie. leo wanted to go to work, but he felt obliged to remain, and witness the interview. "you will excuse me for calling at such a time; but i will not detain you long, miss maggimore. i understand that you are a french scholar. am i rightly informed?" "yes, sir, i speak french," replied maggie, beginning to expect another job in translating. "and i suppose you read french." "yes, sir." "i have really forgotten all the french i ever knew," continued mr. wittleworth, apologetically; and one would have supposed, from his manner, that the french language was the only thing in the world he did not know, and that it was intensely humiliating to acknowledge that he did not know that. "i have a letter from france, written in french, which it is of the utmost importance that i should read. i have taken the liberty to call upon you to beg the favor of a translation of the letter." mr. wittleworth took from his pocket the letter which the banker had given to his mother. "i shall be very happy to assist you," added maggie, kindly. "thank you, miss maggimore. if you will give me the english of the letter, i will write down the important part of it," continued fitz, taking a pencil and paper from his pocket, seating himself at the table, and handing her the letter. "it is postmarked paris," said she, glancing at the envelope. "so i observed." "why, this is the very letter i translated into french for mr. checkynshaw to-day!" exclaimed maggie, innocently, as she took the paper from the envelope. "ah, indeed!" replied fitz, thoroughly illuminated by this flood of light. maggie's fair face was instantly covered with blushes. she was confident, a moment too late, that she had exposed some of mr. checkynshaw's business. "you translated this letter into french for mr. checkynshaw--did you?" asked fitz, taking the letter from her, and folding up his paper, as he rose from his chair. "i did," replied maggie; for now that the mischief, whatever it was, had been done, she could only tremble for the consequences. "if you did, i needn't trouble you to translate it back again," added fitz, as he took his hat and left the house very abruptly. chapter xviii. the quitclaim deed. "mother, you are determined to be imposed upon," said fitz, as he rushed into the house with the astounding intelligence he had obtained in phillimore court. "perhaps you can afford to refuse a gift of ten thousand dollars--i cannot," replied mrs. wittleworth. "i did not ask or beg anything of mr. checkynshaw. he volunteered to give it to me, rather for my sister's sake than my own, perhaps; but i feel that i ought to take it." "don't touch it, mother!" protested fitz. "it will be the ruin of you if you do. mother, you have no confidence in me. you are willing to trust almost any one rather than me." "i judge for myself. it is better to take mr. checkynshaw's gift than to starve." "o, nonsense, mother! why will you be so absurd?" groaned fitz. "why will you persist in talking about starving?" "why will i, fitz? because we have hardly five dollars in the world, and both of us are out of work." "but i shall get something to do in a few days. will you let me bring the suit against checkynshaw for the block of stores?" "no, i will not, fitz." "i told you checkynshaw was imposing upon you, and now i have proved it." "what have you proved?" "i have proved that this letter is a forgery, as i believed it was. it was translated into french this very day by the barber's daughter. it was not written by marguerite, and i knew it was not!" replied fitz, triumphantly; and he proceeded to describe in detail the result of his application to maggie to translate the letter. "it doesn't make much difference whether it is a forgery or not," added the poor woman, in whose mind ten thousand dollars overshadowed every other consideration. "doesn't it!" sneered fitz, out of patience with his mother. "not much. mr. checkynshaw says marguerite is living; and, whether he means to do right or wrong, he is a man of great wealth and influence, and we could make nothing by going to law with him. we haven't money enough to keep us out of the almshouse more than a fortnight longer." "but don't i say we need no money to carry on the suit? all we have to do is to attach the property. checkynshaw won't stand trial. he'll settle it; he'll give up the block of stores." "you don't know him," sighed mrs. wittleworth. "if i don't know him, i'd like to know who does. haven't i been in the office with him for years? choate couldn't attend to this business himself; but he recommended a lawyer, a friend of his, and i have been to see him. i am to call again to-morrow." "i am willing to hear all that can be said, fitz, on both sides," replied the poor woman, tired of the controversy, but still believing that "a bird in the hand was worth two in the bush." "i will go with you, and hear what your lawyer has to say." "go with me!" sneered fitz. "do you think i can't do the business alone?" "you don't know as much as you think you do, fitz." "perhaps i don't; but if i don't understand this case, then nobody does." mrs. wittleworth was disgusted, and fitz was disgusted; and both were silent, rather because there was no prospect of making any progress in the business than because either was satisfied. fitz had been to see the attorney recommended by the distinguished orator--a young fellow, whose practice was mostly confined to the police court, and who was so weak and silly as to be an object of ridicule to his professional brethren. this gentleman was willing to look into the case. he went to the registry of probate, and read the will. so far fitz was justified. the next morning the lawyer called on mr. checkynshaw. it was very unprofessional, but it was very prudent. he did not wish to annoy a gentleman in his position if there were no just grounds for a suit. the banker was much obliged to him for calling. the banker was plausible, and the banker finally gave him a retaining fee of fifty dollars to act for the defence, in case a suit was brought against him. he had discharged fitz for impudence, and he was merely seeking some way to annoy him. the lawyer was satisfied, and so was the banker. in the course of the forenoon, fitz, attended by his mother, called upon the attorney. he had looked into the case; he was satisfied there was no ground for an action, and he declined to undertake the suit. fitz was confounded by this reply. "i hope you are satisfied now, fitz," said mrs. wittleworth, when they were in the street. "i am sure i am not. that man has been tampered with! i'll speak to choate about that. does that man mean to tell me that we have no grounds for a suit?" replied fitz, indignantly. "i shall find another lawyer, who will undertake the case." "you needn't do anything more about it. i am going to mr. checkynshaw's now." "are you going to accept his offer?" almost gasped fitz. "i am." "this is madness, mother." "it would be madness not to accept it; and i will not let the sun go down again before i close the business, if mr. checkynshaw is still of the same mind." "will you give up a hundred thousand dollars for ten thousand?" groaned fitz. "we can live in beacon street, and ride in our carriage, if you will only take my advice." "i shall be more likely to ride in the black maria over to the almshouse, if i take your advice. my mind is made up, fitz," replied his mother, very decidedly. "i will go with you, mother," said fitz, desperately. "you needn't." "i must be a witness of the transaction, for, in my opinion, it will be a swindle on the part of checkynshaw; and if i can pick him up on it i mean to do so." "fitz, if you are impudent to mr. checkynshaw, he will put you out of his office." "i will not be impudent to him unless he is impudent to me." mrs. wittleworth led the way now, and fitz reluctantly followed her. he was in despair. he actually believed his mother was selling out her inheritance, a princely fortune, for a mere song; that she was sacrificing the brightest hopes a person ever had. indeed, he went a point beyond this, and believed she was selling out his hopes and expectations; that she was wronging him out of a brilliant future. but fitz might have comforted himself with the reflection that he had vigorously opposed the sacrifice, and that it had been made on account of no want of judgment and forethought on his part. fitz followed his mother into the banker's private office. mrs. wittleworth herself was not entirely satisfied with the situation. she was not at all sure that marguerite had not died of cholera ten years before. mr. checkynshaw's course rather indicated that he was playing a deep game. why did he want a quitclaim deed, if his rights were clear? why had he forged a letter from marguerite, when he must have real ones, if the daughter was still living? and it was not like him to give ten thousand dollars to a person who had no claim upon him. the poor woman's circumstances were desperate. want or the almshouse stared her in the face. it was possible, nay, it was probable, that mr. checkynshaw was deceiving her; that marguerite was dead, and that the block of stores rightfully belonged to her; but she had no chances of success in fighting a battle with wealth and influence. if she brought the suit, the ten thousand dollars would certainly be lost, and the chances of obtaining the block of stores were all against her. the money the banker would pay her would keep her from want for the rest of her lifetime. the income of it would support her little family comfortably. "i will sign the deed, mr. checkynshaw," said she, walking up to the desk where the banker sat. "why did you bring that boy with you?" asked the great man, with a look of contempt at his late clerk. "he insisted upon coming." "i think i have an interest in this business," replied fitz, loftily. "i will be civil, mr. checkynshaw, but i should like to ask you one or two questions." "you needn't." "but i will. why do you give my mother a letter purporting to come from your daughter marguerite, which was written by miss maggimore? that's the first question i want to ask," said fitz, with the air of a conqueror. the banker was a little startled; but he did not lose his self-possession--he seldom did in merely business transactions. "the letter i gave you was a true copy, ellen," said he. "it makes but little difference to me whether it was a true copy or not," she added. "the originals of marguerite's letters were in my safe, and were stolen with other papers. if your son knows pilky wayne, he may be able to recover them." "i scorn the insinuation, mr. checkynshaw," replied fitz, indignantly. "i speak a little french, ellen, but i do not read it very readily; and i had translations made of marguerite's letters," continued mr. checkynshaw, without noticing the irate young man. "one of these translations i had rendered back into the french rather to give employment to the barber's daughter than for any other reason." mrs. wittleworth felt no interest in the translation. probably the banker was imposing upon her credulity, but she did not care if he was. "are the papers ready, mr. checkynshaw?" she asked, timidly, fearful that he had altered his mind in regard to the money. "they are." "i am ready to sign the deed." the banker produced the document, and the check, and laid them upon the desk. "will you witness your mother's signature, fitz?" asked mr. checkynshaw. "no, sir. i will have no part in this transaction," replied he, sourly. "it will become my duty, at no distant day, to rip up the whole thing." "burnet!" called the banker, opening the window. the taciturn cashier appeared. "witness this signature," added mr. checkynshaw. mrs. wittleworth signed the quitclaim deed, and took the check. the cashier saw the act, and wrote his name in the proper place on the deed. "take the acknowledgment," said mr. checkynshaw to the cashier, who was a justice of the peace. "you acknowledge this to be your free act and deed, mrs. wittleworth?" added burnet. "i do," replied the poor woman, or rather the rich one now, in the most decided manner. "have it recorded," continued the banker; and the cashier left the room with the deed in his hand. "i am very much obliged to you, mr. checkynshaw," said mrs. wittleworth. "you have been very kind and very liberal to me." "liberal!" sneered fitz. "he has given you ten thousand dollars for a hundred thousand. it's the best trade he ever made." "ellen, i am glad you are satisfied with what you have done. i give you the ten thousand dollars for the reason i stated yesterday--not because you had any claim upon me." "i know you did, sir; and i am very grateful to you," replied mrs. wittleworth. "after what i have done, it is not right that i should be annoyed by your son," added the banker. "he shall not annoy you if i can help it." "that's enough, ellen. i forbid his coming here again on any pretence whatever." "you needn't trouble yourself," replied fitz. "i shall not come near you again if i can help it. i am rather particular about my associates." mrs. wittleworth left the office, followed by fitz. the fact that his mother had ten thousand dollars in her pocket did not seem to comfort him. he offered to draw the check for her, but his mother preferred to transact her own business. she presented the check at the bank upon which it was drawn, and deposited the money at another. she went home with a light heart, feeling that the wolf was slain, and that she was secured against grim want for the rest of her life. mr. checkynshaw smiled when mrs. wittleworth had gone. perhaps, as fitz suggested, he felt that he had made a good trade. apparently he had disposed of the only person who had the power to annoy him. no one did annoy him. constable clapp came back from new york; but he brought no tidings of pilky wayne. the banker offered a reward of five hundred dollars for his valuable papers; but week after week passed away, and nothing was heard of them. the banker concluded that the rogue had burned them, so that no clew should be had to him. chapter xix. five hundred dollars reward. leo worked till a late hour in the night, on the day that he received the orders for the two mouse-houses. at eleven o'clock maggie went down to the shop, and entreated him not to wear himself out. very likely he would have worked all night if her friendly warning had not sent him to bed. the next day he stuck to his bench till nine o'clock in the evening. on saturday afternoon the two houses were finished, and put up at the residences of those who had ordered them. his wildest dream had been more than realized, and there was more money in the house over sunday than there had ever been before. the prospect was still hopeful for the future. the good physician had kept his promise, and leo had orders enough to keep him at work for two weeks. he finished the four small houses, and disposed of them at two dollars apiece, and two like that sold to the banker at six dollars apiece, during the coming week; and this made twenty dollars. this extraordinary run of good fortune, however, did not continue long; for, during the third week, he sold but twelve dollars' worth of his merchandise, and the stock was accumulating on his hands. at the end of the fourth week he had six houses unsold; but the average proceeds of his sales had been over fifteen dollars a week. leo was enterprising, and with some of his funds he purchased half a dozen pairs of rabbits, and enlarged the sphere of his business. he built very tasty houses for each pair of these animals, with wire netting in front, so that they could be seen. they were provided with proper nests, with conveniences for keeping them clean. these establishments found a ready sale, at remunerative prices for the rabbits and the work. then he enlarged the business still further, adding guinea pigs and doves to his stock, till the basement of the house became a menagerie of pets. the dove-houses were made to be placed on sheds, or fastened to the sides of buildings, generally in front of back attic windows, where they could be readily reached. the good doctor, the banker, and his other customers had thoroughly advertised his business for him, and purchasers came every day to see his merchandise. he was continually inventing new patterns for houses, and could now keep a variety of them on hand, to enable those who patronized him to select for themselves. leo maggimore worked very hard; but his business was profitable, and he had every encouragement to persevere. his net proceeds were generally twenty dollars a week; and, after paying for lumber, hardware, glass, and wire netting, his average gains were fully up to the standard he had fixed. perhaps the young mechanic did not realize the fact, but it was none the less true, that he was largely indebted to powerful friends for the extensive sales he made. probably many persons bought his wares solely for the purpose of assisting him in his self-imposed task of maintaining the family. dr. fisher, while attending the barber, stated the case to at least a hundred of his patients and friends. the spring came, and leo's business was as good as ever. he was making his fifteen dollars a week right along, to which maggie sometimes added two or three more. all this time andré had been steadily improving. he was now able to go out every day, and had almost recovered the use of his limbs. he was not yet in condition to use a razor, which requires a very steady and delicate hand; but he was able to do a great deal of work about the house. he helped leo, and became general salesman for all his merchandise. the affairs of the family had been improving from the very day that andré was stricken down by his malady. the only misfortune over which they mourned was, that the young mechanic had been taken out of school. at the end of three months, when the barber felt quite able to go to work,--and cutts & stropmore were very anxious to have him do so,--the family were never in a more prosperous condition. there was actually about a hundred dollars in the exchequer, though dr. fisher's bill had not been paid; but they need not have troubled themselves about that, for the physician would no more have carried in a bill than he would have cheated one of his neighbors; and that was quite impossible for him to do. leo went up to see the master of the school as soon as his father was able to go to work; and it was decided that he should immediately resume his place. the teacher was confident that, with extra study, it was still possible for him to obtain the medal. leo went to work upon his studies with the same energy and determination he had brought to bear upon the mouse business. "make or break!" said he; "i will catch up with my class." of course he succeeded, though between the shop and the books he had nearly "broken;" for there was still a demand for mice, doves, rabbits, and guinea pigs, and he added several dollars a week to the income of his father. he worked too hard; and maggie, seeing that he was likely to "break," took upon herself the care of the menagerie and the sales, in addition to the housework, which was really quite enough for a girl of fifteen. maggie was a good housekeeper. mindful of the traditions of the elders, as the spring came on she commenced the semiannual operation of house-cleaning. she went through the performance in the front room first, and then devoted herself to the chamber over it, which was leo's room. according to her custom she took everything out of the closets, bureau, chest, and table drawers. in the course of this ceremonial she came to the chest in which leo kept his clothes. at the bottom she found the papers deposited there by "mr. hart," or possibly pilky wayne, for it was not certainly known who committed the robbery. there was quite a large bundle of them; and maggie, inheriting the propensity of mother eve, was, of course, anxious to know what they were. she laid them on the table with other articles, and then opened one of them. she saw the name of mr. checkynshaw. she was terrified when she remembered that the banker's safe had been robbed, and that mr. checkynshaw had come to the house with the detective to see about it. she was not quite sure of the fact, but it seemed to her that leo had been suspected of being concerned in the robbery. here were the valuable papers, hidden away very carefully at the bottom of leo's chest. they must have been there at least three months, and of course her brother knew they were there. the longer she considered the matter, the more terrified she became. it was awful to think that leo had been concerned in a robbery. she was not willing to believe it. if there were any good boys in the world, leo was one of them. he would cut his right hand off before he would do a wicked thing. it was impossible for her to charge the dear fellow with anything that looked like a crime. she turned the papers over again. they were strange documents to her, with great seals on them, and no end of legal phrases. perhaps, after all, they were not good for anything. they could not be the papers which mr. checkynshaw had lost. probably they were some old and useless documents, which the banker had thrown away when they were of no further consequence. it was quite likely that leo, who was always studying up methods of doing business, had saved them from the dirt barrels in the streets, so as to learn the forms of making out such papers. this explanation was not quite satisfactory, though it was plausible, to her. it was about nine o'clock in the morning when she found the papers. leo had gone to school, and her father would not return till night. she was so impatient to know whether the documents were of any value or not, that she was unwilling to wait till noon. at first she thought she would take them up to mr. checkynshaw himself, and ask him if they were good for anything; but she did not exactly like to do that. then it occurred to her that fitz wittleworth, who had been a clerk for the banker, could tell her just as well as his late employer, and he lived only a short distance from phillimore court. mrs. wittleworth, with a portion of the money received from the banker, had purchased a small house near her former residence. fitz had not yet found another place, and probably both he and his mother would have come to want before this time, if she had taken his advice. maggie went to the front door, and called tom casey, whom she had seen in the court from the window. tom was one of the gallantest young irishmen in the city. he was a fast friend of leo, and spent much time in the shop with him. tom made no mental reservation when he declared that maggie was the "purtiest gurl in the wurruld;" and he was only too happy to oblige her when she asked him to request fitz to step in and see her for a moment. in ten minutes mr. wittleworth made his appearance, as grand as ever, for three months' idleness had not taken any of the starch out of him. maggie showed him the papers with fear and trembling. fitz rubbed his chin, and pursed his lips, as he examined them, looked wise, and finally, after much sage deliberation, declared that the papers were of the utmost importance. "o, dear!" groaned poor maggie. "what is the matter, miss maggimore?" demanded mr. wittleworth. "what shall i do! how came those papers in my brother's chest?" "i haven't the least idea, miss maggimore. i can only say that the papers are very valuable, and that checkynshaw offered a reward for them. now i remember! your brother was with the man that robbed the safe." "that's what troubles me," gasped poor maggie. "don't be alarmed, miss maggimore. it is very fortunate that you called me to attend to this delicate business. if you had not done so, they might have thrown your brother into jail. checkynshaw has no more consideration for a young man than a mule," said fitz, patronizingly. "leave it all to me, miss maggimore. i will see that the papers are restored to the owner, and that no harm comes to leo." "you are very kind," replied maggie, hopefully. "i am always glad to do what i can for those who are in need of assistance. it is fortunate you called me in. it will be best for you not to mention to any one that i have taken them." maggie thought so too, and she was very glad to have her visitor take the papers away from the house. she felt as though a contagious disease had been removed as soon as the door closed behind fitz. was it possible that leo had been concerned in the robbery? if so, sooner or later he would ask what had become of the papers. the man that stole the papers had come to the house with leo, she then called to mind for the first time; but her thoughts were confused, and instead of this circumstance affording a satisfactory explanation to her of the presence of the package in leo's chest, it had just the opposite effect. fitz wittleworth went home with the papers; went up to his room with them; examined every document in the bundle. there was a copy of his grandfather's will among them, but nothing else relating to the block of stores, and nothing which related to marguerite--not even the letters which mr. checkynshaw had declared were stolen with the papers. mr. wittleworth went up to the banker's office. he was civil, and mr. checkynshaw asked him, very sternly, what he wanted. "you offered a reward of five hundred dollars for the recovery of the papers taken from your safe, mr. checkynshaw," fitz began, pompously. "i did." "i claim it." "the money is ready; where are the papers?" asked the banker, promptly. "i have them here," replied fitz, producing the package. "where did you get them?" "that is what i must decline to answer," added fitz, decidedly. "must you? then i suppose i am to understand that you were a party to the robbery, as i have suspected from the beginning." mr. wittleworth thought this was a very unreasonable view to take of the case. he decided to leave, and conduct the negotiation for the reward in some other manner. he turned to go, but the banker seized him by the collar and held him. mr. wittleworth was in hot water. chapter xx. an avalanche of good fortune. mr. wittleworth was more astonished than he had ever before been in his life. this was the gratitude of great men! mr. checkynshaw did not seem to be at all rejoiced to find his papers, and was so mean as to send for constable clapp. "didn't you offer a reward of five hundred dollars for your papers, mr. checkynshaw?" asked fitz. "i did; and i am willing to pay the reward the moment you have explained to me where you got them," replied the banker, as he pitched his prisoner into a chair to await the arrival of the officer. "i came here in good faith, and i didn't expect to be treated in this manner," growled mr. wittleworth. "i am not yet willing to pay you for stealing my papers and money, or for employing another person to do it for you," added mr. checkynshaw, dryly. "i did not steal them." "then you cannot object to telling me where you obtained them." mr. wittleworth did object. he had undertaken to manage this business, and he expected to make at least a commission out of it. his plan was to pay maggie fifty or a hundred dollars of the reward, and keep the rest himself. it was not probable that the barber,--who was ill at the time,--or his family, had read the newspapers, and it was not likely that they knew anything about the reward. maggie, or even leo, would be entirely satisfied with the fifty dollars, and ought to be exceedingly obliged to him for managing the matter so well for them. constable clapp arrived in a few moments, and the case was stated to him. "how much money was stolen with the papers?" asked the officer. "about three hundred and fifty dollars," replied the banker. "very well; if this young gentleman will restore the papers and the money, he may take the reward; and then we shall be ready to attend to the criminal charge. that will make a balance of one hundred and fifty dollars in his favor," chuckled the officer. "i am entirely willing to pay the reward i offered," added mr. checkynshaw, magnanimously. "where did you get the papers, mr. wittleworth?" asked the detective. "i didn't steal them." "i don't say you did. where did you get them, was the question i asked." "of course i don't wish to expose anybody. they came into my possession in consequence of an accident." "exactly so!" said the officer, taking the papers from fitz, and producing a pair of handcuffs. "in consequence of an accident, i shall be obliged to put these irons on your wrists, and take you over to the jail." "me!" gasped fitz, the iron entering his lofty soul. "i should like to know what my friend choate would say to that!" "in one word, will you wear the bracelets, or will you tell where you obtained the papers? of course mr. checkynshaw will pay the reward. he is an honorable man, and does all he agrees. you will want the money to pay your friend choate for keeping you out of the state prison. what will you do?" fitz thought for a moment. the disgrace of being marched through the streets by a person so well known as mr. clapp, and with a pair of irons on his wrists, was intolerable to think of, and he decided to inform the officer where he had obtained the papers. he then related the particulars of his interview with maggie. "then you did not find the papers yourself?" said mr. checkynshaw, with a feeling of relief, for it would have galled him sorely to pay the five hundred dollars to one he disliked so much. "i did not," replied fitz. "then the reward does not belong to you." "it is hardly necessary for me to say that i was doing the business for miss maggimore." "but it was hardly necessary for you to conceal her name." the banker was really overjoyed to find his papers, and at once drew a check for the amount which he had offered as a reward. "we will go down and see maggie," said the banker, putting the check into his pocket. "i think the case is plain enough," added the constable. "when i ascertain where the papers were found, i shall be better satisfied." mr. checkynshaw called a carriage, and they went to phillimore court. no further notice was taken of mr. wittleworth; in fact he was utterly ignored from the moment he had told his story. he was permitted to depart in peace. he did depart, but not in peace; for he was not entirely satisfied. the reward ought to have been paid to him, and he should have had the lion's share of it. this was his feeling as he retired from the office. maggie was fearfully frightened when she saw the banker and the constable. the roses fled from her cheek, and she was pale and trembling. that awful officer had come to bear leo away to the jail. she was almost sorry that she had not burned the papers, instead of sending them back to the owner. "you have come for poor leo!" exclaimed she, in terror, when she opened the door. "don't be alarmed, maggie," said mr. checkynshaw, in a tone which was gentle for him. "we come to inquire about those papers you found." "i knew you did!" gasped maggie in despair, as the two gentlemen followed her into the rear room. "where did you find them?" asked mr. clapp, in a gentler tone than the banker could speak. "in leo's room," stammered she. "i must tell the truth; but i hope you won't harm poor leo." "will you show us just where you found them?" "i will, if you will come up stairs," she added, leading the way. "you won't put poor leo in jail--will you? i'm sure he didn't intend to do any wrong." "i don't think he did," replied the officer, moved by the distress of the poor girl. "i found them at the bottom of leo's chest," said maggie, as she pointed to the place where she had discovered them. "i was cleaning house, and i cleared out all the closets and drawers. i took all leo's things out of his chest, and i found those papers under his summer clothes." "did leo know they were there?" "i'm sure i don't know whether he did or not. i don't believe he did. he never stays in his room only when he is asleep. all the clothes he wears in the winter are in the top of the chest." "i looked into that chest when i searched the room on the day the safe was robbed," added the officer. "i put my hand down into the clothing; but i suppose i didn't reach the bottom. where is leo now?" "he is at school." "can you send for him?" "you won't take him up--will you? it would break his heart," pleaded maggie. "i don't think it will be necessary to arrest him," replied the constable, rather cautiously. "the man that stole the papers came to this room, and i have no doubt he put them there to get rid of them." "send for leo; i will promise you he shall not be taken up," added mr. checkynshaw, taking the responsibility upon himself. maggie wrote a note, and sent tom casey to the school with it, the gentlemen having taken seats in the front parlor. in a short time leo appeared, trembling lest his father had had another attack of paralysis. he was not a little surprised to find the banker and the constable awaiting his arrival. "leo, what do you keep in that chest of yours, up in your room?" asked the officer. "my clothes, sir," replied leo, astonished at the strange question. "what else?" "nothing else." "don't you keep any white mice in it?" said the constable, smiling. "no, sir." "don't your mice get out of their houses down stairs, and come up?" "i have seen two or three of them in the kitchen." "but don't they go up in your chamber?" "i never saw any up there," answered leo, puzzled by these singular inquiries. "what would you say if i told you that a couple of them had made a nest in your chest up stairs, and had a litter of little ones there?" "i don't know what i should say. i don't know that it would be very strange." "should you deny it?" "if you saw them there i should not, though i don't see how they could get into the chest. the lid is always closed." "but you might have left the lid up some morning, and the mice might have crawled down to the very bottom of the chest, and had a family there. could this have happened?" "it could; but i don't think it is very likely it did happen." "why not?" "i should have smelt them," laughed leo. "shouldn't you have seen them?" "i don't think i should. maggie puts my shirts and stockings at the top of the chest, and i hardly know what there is at the bottom. she takes care of my things." "is there anything in that chest besides your clothes?" "yes; i believe there is a piece of brass chain, a ball, some marbles, and a top in the till." "anything else?" "there may be some other things of that sort in the till. i don't remember; if you want to know, i will go up and show you." "are there any papers there?" demanded the constable, sharply. "yes, sir, there are two or three newspapers." "any written papers?" "not a paper." "have you had any papers there at any time?" "no, sir; i don't remember that i ever did. i keep my papers in the table drawer in the kitchen." "didn't you know there was a package of papers in the chest--such as bonds, deeds, and notes?" "no, sir, i didn't know it. i never saw anything of the kind there," replied leo, still puzzled, but satisfied now that something serious had happened. "have you overhauled the contents of your chest lately?" "no, sir; not since last summer, that i remember." "leo, in your chest were found the papers which mr. checkynshaw lost." "then that mr. hart, or whatever his name was, put them there!" exclaimed leo, his face turning red. "i never saw them, and didn't know they were there." [illustration: leo answers for himself.--page .] "i am satisfied," interposed mr. checkynshaw. "so am i," added mr. clapp. the truth as it was had been correctly discerned. "maggie, i offered a reward of five hundred dollars for those papers," continued the banker. "i would have given five thousand rather than not have had them." "then i am very glad you have found them," replied the fair girl, now entirely relieved of all her fears on account of her brother. "but you found them, maggie, and you are entitled to the reward. here is my check for the amount. your father can draw the money for you." "i don't deserve the reward!" exclaimed maggie, blushing deeply, as she took the check. "it is reward enough for me to find that leo is as good as i always believed him to be." "you found the papers, and i am indebted to you for their preservation. another might have destroyed them." "but i only took them out of the chest. i didn't know what they were. i almost made up my mind that they were good for nothing, and that leo had saved them from the dirt barrels to learn how to write such papers from. i didn't know what to do, and i sent for mr. wittleworth to tell me whether they were good for anything or not. he said they were very valuable, and told me it was fortunate i sent for him, and then kindly undertook to return them to you." "very kindly!" sneered the banker. "he claimed this reward." "he did?" "yes; but i am very glad it goes to you, instead of to him." maggie objected to taking such a vast sum of money for so slight a service; but mr. checkynshaw's mandate was imperative, and he departed, leaving her bewildered at the sudden fortune which had come down like an avalanche upon her. leo went back to school, as delighted at her good luck as his own in finding himself entirely freed from the charge of being concerned in the robbery. as usual, mr. wittleworth was the only person who was not satisfied. he had again been "left out in the cold." he wanted to know what had happened at the house of andré, and after dinner he called there; but maggie had gone to the barber's shop with her father's noonday meal, and he found the door locked. in the evening he went again, when both andré and leo were at home. chapter xxi. mr. wittleworth's wrongs. maggie, fluttering with delight, had taken mr. checkynshaw's check to her father when she carried his dinner. the barber was astonished as well as pleased with the gift, and, having drawn the check, deposited the money in the savings bank, as a provision for dark days, like those through which they had passed at the beginning of andré's illness. after supper the family gathered around the cooking-stove in the kitchen. never before had they been so happy as now, and never before were they so strongly attached to each other. they had passed through the storm of privation and trial--they had triumphed over adverse circumstances. leo tried to study his lesson, while andré and maggie were talking about the great event of the day, and comparing their present situation with the first days of the barber's illness, when all of them were trembling for the future. "god has been very good to us, my children, and i hope we shall always be grateful to him for his mercies," said andré, as a tear, which he could not repress, stole down his pale cheek. "i'm sure i never felt so good before in my life; and i know my prayers mean more to me now than ever before," replied maggie. "we have been faithful to each other, and god has been faithful to all of us, as he always is, even when we forsake and forget him." "ah, _mon père_, how could we help being faithful to you, when you were always so kind to us!" exclaimed maggie, as she rested her hand on andré's arm. "and leo--he has really been a lion! you don't know how brave he was; how he worked, and how he persevered! it was all _make_, and no _break_--wasn't it, leo?" "it has been, so far," replied leo, less demonstrative, but not less delighted than the other members of the family. "i think we can do anything we make up our minds to do. i have made up my mind to take the franklin medal this year, and, make or break, i'm going to do it." leo bent over his slate again, and seemed to be determined, make or break, that he would attend to his lessons, whatever happened in the room. unfortunately, in this instance, it was at least a partial break, for a very imperative knock was heard a few moments later at the front door. andré answered the summons, and admitted mr. wittleworth. "i hope i don't intrude," said fitz, as daintily as paul pry himself could have said it. "take a seat, mr. wittleworth," added maggie, giving him a chair at the stove. "thank you. i don't often go out evenings, for mother is alone. my friends groan and complain because i don't visit them; but really this is the first time i have been out of the house of an evening for a month," continued mr. wittleworth, as he seated himself in the offered chair, expecting the barber's family to appreciate his condescension in this particular instance. "the last time i went out of an evening," he added, "i called on my friend choate--you know choate? of course you do, mr. maggimore." "i have not that honor," replied the barber, modestly. "choate's a good fellow--choate is. he is the most gentlemanly person i ever met, not even excepting everett, who, by the way, was at choate's when i called upon him. winthrop was there, too; but winthrop is rather stiff--winthrop is. of course i haven't anything to say against winthrop. he is a great man, talented, a good speaker, and all that sort of thing; but you see he hasn't that companionable way with him that choate has. of course you will not mention what i say to winthrop, for i don't want him to know but what i think as much of him as i do of choate or everett." andré very kindly promised not to mention any disparaging allusion he might make in regard to the honorable gentleman. "in a private conversation one does not like to be held responsible for remarks dropped without much reflection," continued fitz. "i have nothing against winthrop, only he is not just like choate. choate is my idea of a perfect gentleman--choate is. but perhaps i am prejudiced in choate's favor. i used to be in the law business myself--in the same office with choate. well, really, i didn't come here to talk about choate, or any of the rest of my friends. isn't it singular how a light remark, casually dropped, leads us off into a conversation which occupies a whole evening?" andré acknowledged that it was singular how a light remark, casually dropped, leads us into a conversation which occupies a whole evening; but he hoped no light remark of mr. wittleworth would be expanded to that extent, for his room was better than his company, now that the family were at the high tide of happiness and prosperity. "i suppose miss maggimore has informed you that she sent for me this morning, in order to obtain the benefit of my advice," continued fitz. "yes, sir, she did," replied andré. "the case was rather a singular one; and being alone, she needed the counsel of some person of experience, and of extensive knowledge. she sent for me, and i came," added mr. wittleworth, rubbing his chin and pouting his lips, as was his habit when his bump of self-esteem was rubbed; though it was a notable fact that he always rubbed it himself--nobody else ever appeared to do so. "it was kind of you to come when i sent for you," said maggie, willing to give him all the credit she could. "i came; i saw--" but he did not conquer. "i saw the papers, and i undertook to manage the business for miss maggimore. i was willing to give her the full benefit of my knowledge and experience, though my doing so came very near involving me in a painful difficulty." "i am very sorry for that," interposed maggie. "it was all on account of my own excessive expenditure of good-nature. i wished to do you a good turn, and checkynshaw a good turn. so far as checkynshaw was concerned, it was a mistake; i am willing to confess that it was a blunder on my part. i confided in his honor. i might have known better, for checkynshaw is a cur--checkynshaw is." mr. wittleworth slipped lightly over the "painful difficulty" in which he was so nearly involved. he was willing to give maggie the benefit of his knowledge and experience in negotiating the strictly business matter in relation to the reward; but checkynshaw basely calumniated him, and bit the hand that was extended to serve him. "mr. checkynshaw came here, with the constable, and inquired into all the circumstances attending the finding of the papers," said maggie, tired of mr. wittleworth's tedious exordium. "he was entirely satisfied with what we had done." maggie then explained the manner in which the papers had come into leo's chest; that they were concealed there by "pilky wayne." "mr. checkynshaw was very good and very kind," she added, with enthusiasm. "checkynshaw?" exclaimed fitz, incredulously. "he was, indeed." "checkynshaw don't know how to be good and kind--checkynshaw don't. it isn't in him." "indeed, he does!" protested maggie. "so he does!" chimed in leo, who was very grateful to mr. checkynshaw for buying his merchandise and recommending it to his friends. "i blow for checkynshaw!" "mr. checkynshaw has been very kind to us, and we feel grateful to him for his goodness," added andré, in his mild, silky-toned voice. "i know checkynshaw. i've summered him and wintered him; and you have to summer and winter a man like checkynshaw before you know him. my friend choate knows him. me and choate both know him. checkynshaw is mean; checkynshaw has a small soul. you could set up two such souls as checkynshaw's on the point of a cambric needle, and they could wander about till the end of time without coming within hailing distance of each other." "mr. checkynshaw is not mean," replied maggie, her pretty face red with excitement and indignation. "excuse me, miss maggimore, but you don't know him." "i think i do know him. he gave me the reward of five hundred dollars for returning the papers to him," said maggie, warmly; and the banker might have rejoiced to be defended by so fair and spirited an advocate. "checkynshaw!" ejaculated mr. wittleworth, springing out of his chair. about the same instant leo closed his book savagely, and sprang to his feet, his manly face wearing a decidedly belligerent look. "see here, fitz; you have said just about enough," leo began, both fists clinched. "mr. checkynshaw is a friend of ours, and we are not going to sit here and have him abused." "don't be angry, leo; he isn't worth minding," whispered maggie in his ear. "then he gave you the reward?" added fitz, sitting down again. "he did," replied maggie. "well, that is the only white spot on the general blackness of his character." "no, 'tisn't!" protested leo. "you will excuse me, miss maggimore, if you think i speak too plainly; but candor is one of the attributes of a gentleman." "it's not necessary for you to be so very candid," suggested maggie. "i know the man," said fitz, pompously. "did i ever tell you how he treated me and my mother? i never did. well, i will." "nobody cares how he treated you and your mother," interposed leo. "allow me to contradict you, leo. i care; my mother cares; and every person who loves justice and fairness cares." in spite of several very pointed hints from andré, maggie, and leo, that they did not care to bear the story, fitz persisted in telling it, and did tell it. he declared it was his solemn conviction that mr. checkynshaw had wronged his mother out of the block of stores, and ten years' income of the same, for which he had paid her the petty consideration of ten thousand dollars. fitz had heard from his mother the narrative of the second mrs. checkynshaw's sickness, and of the sickness of little marguerite, who had been taken to the cholera hospital; and he related it all in the most painfully minute manner. "that child was the heir of my grandfather's property," continued fitz, eloquently; for he was still burning under the sense of his own wrongs. "if that child died, the block of stores, according to my grandfather's will, was to come to my mother. that child did die, in my opinion." "what makes you think so?" asked andré, interested, in spite of himself, in the story. "what makes me think so?" repeated mr. wittleworth, magnificently. "am i a man of ordinary common sense? have i lived to attain my present stature without growing wiser with every day of life i lived? of what avail are my judgment, my knowledge, and my experience, if i cannot penetrate a sham so transparent as this? what makes me think so? does a man of wealth and influence leave his own child among strangers, in a foreign land, for ten years? no! i repeat it, no!" "you say the child was sent to the cholera hospital?" asked andré, nervously. "she was; but in my opinion she died there." "o, she died there--did she?" said andré, with apparent relief. "checkynshaw says she did not die; i say she did." "why should he say she didn't die, if she did die?" inquired maggie, very innocently. "why should he? why, indeed?" repeated fitz, amazed at her obtuseness. "don't you see that, if the child died, the block of stores belongs to my mother? but it makes no difference now," sighed mr. wittleworth, "for my mother, contrary to my advice, contrary to my solemn protest, sold out all her right in the premises for a mere song." "but where is the child now?" "dead!" replied fitz, in a sepulchral tone. "mr. checkynshaw does not say so," persisted andré. "what does he say about the child?" "he says the child was taken by the sisters of charity, and that he found her in one of their nunneries or schools; but of course that is all bosh." mr. wittleworth had told his story, and having done so, he tore himself away, leaving andré very thoughtful. chapter xxii. the two marguerites. when mr. wittleworth passed out into the street, the excitement of the argument subsided. he felt that he had thoroughly and completely demolished mr. checkynshaw, and that nothing more could be said in the banker's favor after what he had said against him. the great man need not attempt to hold up his head again, after that. mr. checkynshaw had actually paid the reward to maggie. it was strange, but it was true; and the saddest part of it was, mr. wittleworth had received no share of the money. he had given his valuable advice to the barber's daughter, and his late employer had received the full benefit of it. if he, mr. wittleworth, had been so vicious and depraved, so lost to the high instincts of a gentleman, as wilfully and maliciously to have given miss maggimore bad advice--advice not based on his experience and knowledge of the world; in a word, if he had told her that the papers were good for nothing, the young lady would doubtless have destroyed them. instead of this, he had been upright and conscientious; he had given good, wholesome counsel, worthy of his knowledge and experience. miss maggimore had actually asked him if the papers were good for anything; and he had actually informed her that they were very valuable, thus saving them from a devastating conflagration in the cooking-stove. miss maggimore had actually been paid five hundred dollars for opening that chest, and taking therefrom the package of papers; while he, who had furnished the intelligence, supplied the brains, and even the physical power by which the papers had been conveyed to the banker's office, had not received a cent! there was something wrong, in the opinion of mr. wittleworth. the reward should be at least equally shared between him and her. in the morning he had made up his mind that fifty dollars would pay her handsomely, while the four hundred and fifty would not be an over-adequate compensation for the brains of the transaction. his calculations had been set at nought. he knew the value of those papers, but he had given the banker credit for integrity he did not possess, and had lost all. the world was always hard on mr. wittleworth, and at this time it seemed to be peculiarly savage towards him, especially as he had been out of business three months, and needed money badly. it would be useless for him to represent his redeeming agency in the affair to mr. checkynshaw. the great man refused to acknowledge his shining abilities. mr. checkynshaw was prejudiced--he was. but the barber was a singularly simple-hearted man. he would not rob a flea of the mite of warm blood needed for its supper. maggie was known throughout the neighborhood as a good little girl, and leo was a mere tinker. these people might be brought to see the justice of his claim, and to acknowledge that through his advice and influence the papers had been saved from destruction, and restored to their owner; or, to put the matter in its most direct form, that he had enabled them to obtain the reward. they were indebted to him for it, and it would be exceedingly stupid of them if they could not see that he was fairly entitled to at least one half of it. the next evening mr. wittleworth, to the consternation of leo, paid another visit to the humble domicile of the barber. the young student was disgusted. his lessons were behind, and he could not afford to be interrupted; and as soon as fitz came in, leo retreated to his chamber--a movement which suited the visitor quite as well as the scholar. "mr. wittleworth, i am very glad you called," said andré, "for i wished to ask you something more about mr. checkynshaw's daughter." "any information which i possess i will most cheerfully impart to those who need it; but i ought to say that i came on business, however," replied fitz, rather anxiously. "very well, mr. wittleworth; we will attend to the business first, if you desire." mr. wittleworth did desire, and it took him about an hour to go over the argument which had passed through his brain the night before; but he made it appear, to his own entire satisfaction, that he had been the sole instrumentality in enabling his auditors to obtain the princely reward. "but i hadn't the least intention of burning the papers," protested maggie. "it is true i almost wished i had burned them; but it was when i was afraid they would get leo into trouble." "exactly so; and it was through my advice, personal influence, and personal efforts, that the papers were restored to checkynshaw." "what portion of the reward do you claim, mr. wittleworth?" asked andré, very mildly. "i should be satisfied with one half of it, at this stage of the proceedings; though, when i consider that it was entirely through my advice and discreet action that the papers were saved, i think i should be justified in claiming four fifths, or even nine tenths of it. as it is, you having already received the money, i will be content with half of it; though this is rather hard on me, considering the personal indignity and the injury in my feelings to which i was subjected." maggie looked at andré, and andré looked at maggie. mr. wittleworth was modest in his demand, and it was plainly useless to discuss the question. "we understand your position, mr. wittleworth," said andré. "it takes us rather by surprise; but we will consider your demand, and return you an answer in a day or two. we may wish to consult mr. checkynshaw about it." "no!" said fitz, very decidedly. "after what i have said to you about checkynshaw, it would be absurd for you to consult him. checkynshaw is rich, and he is prejudiced against me--checkynshaw is. this is a question of abstract justice, not of personal feeling or personal prejudice. i only ask for justice." "we will think of it, mr. wittleworth, and give you an answer to-morrow or next day," repeated andré. "i am very much interested in what you said about mr. checkynshaw's first child." "in a question of abstract justice, andré, it is hardly necessary for an honest man to wait a single day before he does his duty. i prefer to settle this little matter at once," added fitz. "but i have not the money in the house. i put it in the savings bank," replied the barber, anxious only to defer the final answer. "but you can determine your duty in regard to my claim, and inform me of your intentions." "i have no intentions at present, and you will pardon me if i decline to say anything more about it to-night." fitz began to think he was overdoing the matter. andré appeared to be slightly ruffled, and he deemed it prudent to proceed no further. "very well, andré; if you do not see the justice of my claim, i will not press it. you are an honest and a just man. if i had not known you as such, i should not have troubled you. of course my future opinion of you must depend very much upon your decision in this matter. not that i care so much for the money, but i love justice. if i can afford you any information in regard to checkynshaw's child, i shall be glad to do so." "mr. wittleworth, i was in one of the cholera hospitals of paris at the time that child died--i think you said ten years ago." "is it possible!" exclaimed fitz. "it was ten years ago last august." "do you know in what hospital the child was placed?" asked andré, with breathless interest. "i do not, but my mother does. she has a letter written to her by the present mrs. checkynshaw, in which she informed her that marguerite had died in the hospital. but checkynshaw looked the matter up afterwards; and he says the child did not die; that she was taken away by the sisters of charity. that was all bosh." "could i see your mother?" asked andré. "certainly; you can walk over to my house and see her if you like." "i do not ask from an idle curiosity," added andré. "the foreign residents in paris were generally taken to the same hospital, in the rue lacépède. i was then the valet of an english gentleman, who died there of cholera. while i was there--for, after the death of my employer, i was engaged as a kind of interpreter for the english patients who did not speak french--the _hôpital des enfants malades_ was full, and a portion of our establishment was devoted to foreign children. i well remember two children of the name of margaret; and i have reason to remember them;" and andré glanced tenderly at maggie. "one of them died, and the other is my maggie." "but what was the other name of the one that died?" asked fitz, nervously. "marguerite chuckingham. i suppose there were other marguerites there; but i did not know them. they could not find the dead child's parents; they were dead themselves. i would like to see your mother's letter," added andré. accepting fitz's invitation, the barber and his daughter walked over to "his house," and were introduced to mrs. wittleworth. andré repeated his story about the two marguerites, and she was quite as much interested in it as her son had been. "i have the letter," said she. "i thought the property was mine, and that the letter might be of use to me; so i have carefully preserved it." she went to the bureau, and produced the letter. it contained a pitiful account of the sufferings of mrs. checkynshaw during the cholera season, and the announcement of little marguerite's death at the hospital in the rue lacépède. "that's the place!" exclaimed andré, much excited. "what became of the child?" asked mrs. wittleworth, not less agitated. "it must have been marguerite chuckingham, for that was as near as a frenchman would be likely to get the name." "but it may have been the other marguerite," suggested mrs. wittleworth. "no!" exclaimed andré, with something like a shudder at the thought of having maggie taken from him, even to dwell in the palatial home of the banker. "why may it not have been?" "because i traced the parents of my maggie to their lodgings, and both of them had died of cholera. the _concierge_ identified the clothing and a locket i found upon her neck. besides, maggie spoke french then, and the other child did not. i have no doubt the child that died was mr. checkynshaw's." "andré, your hand!" said fitz. "i don't wish to harm mr. checkynshaw," protested the barber, taking the hand involuntarily, rather than because he was interested in the act. "you love truth and justice; you have the reputation of loving truth and justice, all over the world--you have. you are a noble-minded man," continued fitz, eloquently. "now you can see what checkynshaw is, and now you can see what i am." "don't be foolish, fitz!" interposed mrs. wittleworth. "foolish! mother, have i not furnished wisdom for our family? have i not told you from the beginning what checkynshaw was? i told you the child was dead. now it is proved." "no matter if it is. it makes no difference now." "it is matter; it does make a difference. mother, you know how earnestly i protested against your signing that quitclaim deed. now i am justified. now you can see that i was right, and you were wrong." andré and maggie had no interest in this discussion, and they hastened their departure as soon as the atmosphere began to look stormy. the barber was sorry he had said anything. simple-minded man as he was, he had not foreseen that he was getting mr. checkynshaw into trouble, and he determined to say nothing more about it. fitz stormed furiously when it was proved that "wisdom was justified of her followers." he declared that checkynshaw had cheated his mother and himself out of their inheritance, and that justice should be done, if the heavens fell. "what can we do? i have signed the quitclaim deed to the block of stores." "no matter if you have. checkynshaw deceived you. you signed the deed only because he said the child was living. we shall prove that the child is dead. the proceeding will be in equity; all that has been done can be ripped up as easily as you can tear up a piece of paper. i know something about law. me and choate have talked over cases in equity." how long this tempestuous debate would have continued none can know, for it was disturbed by the ringing of the door bell. the person admitted was john wittleworth himself, the husband and father, who came to his family clothed and in his right mind, from the house of correction, where he had served a term of four months as a common drunkard. he was cordially welcomed, for he was himself; and there, on his bended knee, he promised, and called upon heaven to record his vow, that he would never again taste the intoxicating cup. he had been discharged that afternoon, and had been endeavoring till that late hour to find his wife and son. he had finally traced them to their new home. in the course of the evening, after the past had been fully discussed, fitz brought up the matter of mr. checkynshaw's child, and all the facts which had been developed were fully stated to him. fitz found a warm supporter of his views in his father, who declared that the quitclaim deed was not valid, because he had not joined her in making it. within three days proceedings in equity were commenced against mr. checkynshaw. chapter xxiii. the gold locket. mr. checkynshaw was astonished and disgusted at the conduct of the wittleworths. the block of stores did not appear even yet to be securely in his possession. it was true he had the quitclaim deed of the contingent heir, but this did not seem to be of much value under the circumstances. mr. wittleworth, senior, had again appeared upon the stage. he had not before considered him in making his calculations; for he was a miserable sot, before whom, and at no great distance from him, yawned the drunkard's grave. john wittleworth, in his right mind, was an able man, and his reappearance explained the decided action of the family. he had joined the temperance society, and he was now a stumbling-block in the path of the banker. mr. checkynshaw was indignant. he had paid ten thousand dollars for that quitclaim deed, or rather he had given it in charity; and this money was to pay the expenses of the suit brought against him! he went to see mrs. wittleworth, and only hoped that he should not see john or his son. unfortunately, fitz was at home. fitz was airy, fitz was grand, fitz was magnificent. his views and opinions had come to be appreciated; they had risen where the froth on the beer rises, to the top of the mug. to use his mother's homely but expressive saying, "you couldn't touch fitz with a ten-foot pole." "ellen," said mr. checkynshaw, solemnly, "it _did_ seem to me that i had done my whole duty to you, when, three months ago, i placed you out of the reach of want for the rest of your lifetime. i confess my grief and surprise, after what i have done for you, that this suit should be brought against me." "if the matter had been left to me, the suit would not have been brought against you," replied mrs. wittleworth, who was really much confused and abashed at the reproaches of the great man. "but, ellen, i must hold you responsible for it. if you had not consented, it could not have commenced. it is done in your name." "hold me responsible, mr. checkynshaw," interposed fitz, placing himself before the banker, and stroking his chin with the most elegant assurance. mr. checkynshaw utterly ignored fitz, took no notice of him, passed him by in silence. "the consideration mentioned in the quitclaim deed, ellen, was ten thousand dollars," continued the great man. "of course you are ready to pay this back." "not at all, sir; we are not ready to pay it back," said fitz; "but we are ready to give you a receipt for it on account." "it is hardly right, ellen, that i should furnish money for you to carry on a suit against me. i gave it to you to keep you from the almshouse, and that you might be independent of any neglect on my part in the future. this money is now to be wasted in idle litigation--in paying the expenses of a lawsuit brought for the sole purpose of annoying me." "the suit is brought in the name of justice and humanity," shouted fitz, eloquently, and with a spread-eagle gesture. "the palladium of our liberties--" "be still, fitz--don't be silly!" interposed his mother. fitz's elegant speech was nipped in the bud. "i don't like to do it, ellen, but i must insist that the money be paid back to me immediately," added the banker. "it is not right for you to spend money given to keep you out of the poorhouse in annoying your benefactor." mr. checkynshaw looked injured. "i am willing to pay the money back as soon as i can," added mrs. wittleworth. "we are not willing to pay the money back, mother. that would not be proper or business-like, when mr. checkynshaw owes us at least fifty thousand dollars for back rents of the block of stores," fitz protested. "i shall have to sue you at once, unless the money is paid," said mr. checkynshaw, mildly. "your husband brought the suit against me without giving me any notice. i wished to take a more christian course with you; but i can stay no longer to be insulted by this puppy!" and the banker nodded his head in the direction of fitz. "puppy!" yelled mr. wittleworth, throwing back his head. "puppy!" "be still, fitz!" said his mother. "be still, and be called a puppy!" "mr. checkynshaw, i can only say that i meant to do right," added mrs. wittleworth. "puppy!" howled fitz, pacing the room violently. "puppy!" "you meant to do right!" exclaimed the banker. "i did. you told me that marguerite was alive and well, and that i was--" "a puppy! that's an insult!" soliloquized mr. wittleworth. "that i was not the legal heir; that i had no claim upon you." "and you have not," replied mr. checkynshaw. "the blood of the wittleworths boils!" stormed fitz. "but marguerite is dead--died ten years ago." "what nonsense is this!" said the banker, in disgust, though his face was a shade paler than usual. "we have the means of proving that marguerite died at the time your wife wrote me the letter to that effect." "yes, sir; we can prove it, sir!" added fitz, forgetting for the moment that he was a puppy. "we can prove it by good and reliable witnesses, sir." "ellen, this is absurd," continued mr. checkynshaw "my wife did write you a letter; but you know what paris must have been when the cholera was cutting down men, women, and children by the hundred daily. marguerite had the cholera, and my wife had it. is it strange that they were separated? is it strange that the child was reported to be dead? is it strange that, at such a time, my wife believed the report? she was mistaken. i found the child, and hastened to correct the false rumors." "we can prove, by a credible witness, that the child, called marguerite chuckingham, died," foamed fitz. "who is the witness?" demanded the banker, turning suddenly upon mr. wittleworth, and for the first time, apparently, conscious of his presence. "by andré maggimore, a good man and true, who was employed in the hotel de saltpetre, in the ruee saleratus," replied mr. wittleworth, triumphantly. he had been reading a book on paris, where mention was made of the _salpêtrière_, a great almshouse; but the street he named was doubtless his own corruption of the _rue lacépède_, of which he had only heard in andré's narrative. mr. checkynshaw was really troubled now. another of the recipients of his bounty had proved faithless; one renegade beneficiary had played into the hands of another. andré had shaved him for years, but had never said a word about the hospitals of paris to him; indeed, andré had never said anything to him, except in answer to his own questions. in reply to his inquiries, mrs. wittleworth stated that the barber had called upon her, and repeated what he had said, in evidence of the truth of her assertion that marguerite was dead. "perhaps andré means to be truthful, and to assert only what he believes to be true; but he is mistaken," said mr. checkynshaw, nervously. "do you think i should not know my own child when i saw her?" "of course you would; but andré is very positive your child was the marguerite chuckingham that died," added mrs. wittleworth. "this matter is too ridiculous to take up my time for a moment. i am ready to abide the decision of the court," continued the banker, taking his hat and moving towards the door. "i hope you are equally ready to do so, ellen." "i wish to do only what is right," replied she. "will you see my husband?" "no; i will not," answered mr. checkynshaw. "if he wished to see me before he commenced this suit, it would have been proper for him to do so. i shall not run after him." "and he will not run after you," interposed fitz. "justice and humanity--" "be still, fitz." "we shall retain choate in this case. me and choate have talked the matter over, and--" mr. checkynshaw bowed stiffly, and left the room before fitz had time to say what terrible things "me and choate" intended to do. the banker was evidently in the most uncomfortable frame of mind. he was nervous and uneasy. his step in the street was quick and sharp, as he walked to phillimore court. he did not expect to find andré there, and he did not. but maggie was a remarkably intelligent girl, open and truthful, and she would be less likely to veil any designs from him than one who had seen more of the world. the banker tried to think what motive the barber could have for arraying himself against one who had done so much for him--one who had voluntarily paid his family the reward of five hundred dollars. it was possible that the wittleworths had been at work upon andré; that they had induced him to give evidence in support of their assertion that marguerite was dead. mr. checkynshaw was a shrewd and deep man, in his own estimation, and he was confident, if any such scheme had been devised, he could fathom it. he rather preferred, therefore, to see the members of the family separately, and maggie was the best one to begin with. mr. checkynshaw was admitted to the parlor of the barber's home, and maggie was the only person in the house with him; for leo was at school, still determined, make or break, to obtain the medal. the fair girl blushed when she recognized the visitor, and, having heard that the wittleworths had instituted the suit, she trembled with fear; for she suspected that the great man's coming related to that event. "maggie, i am sorry you and your father have been giving bad counsels to those wittleworths," the banker began, in solemn tones, but apparently more in grief than in anger. "why, sir! bad counsels?" exclaimed maggie. "i have given the wittleworths money enough to keep them comfortable for the rest of their lives; but they are ungrateful, and are now seeking to annoy me as much as possible." "i am very sorry." "i thought i had done enough for your family to make you all my friends; but it seems i was mistaken," added the great man, sadly reproachful in his manner. "i am sure, sir, we are very grateful to you, and would not willingly do anything to injure you," protested maggie, warmly. "why did your father tell the wittleworths, then, that he was employed in the cholera hospital in paris?" "because he was employed there," replied maggie, who deemed this a sufficient reason for saying so. "was he, indeed?" asked the banker, who had been sceptical even on this point. maggie told the whole story of the two marguerites, as she had heard it from her father. "one marguerite died, and you were the other," said mr. checkynshaw, musing. "yes, sir; and i don't know to this day who my father and mother were; but i suppose they died of cholera. i was told they did. _mon père_ traced them to their lodgings, and identified the clothing and a locket i wore." "a locket?" asked the banker, curiously. "yes, sir." "what was the locket?" "it was a gold one, with the miniature of a gentleman on one side, and a lady on the other, with locks of hair. i suppose they were my father and mother." "where is the locket now?" "_mon père_ has it. i don't know where he keeps it. he tried to find my parents before he came to america, but without success. i saw the locket once, when i was a little girl; but _mon père_ don't like to talk about these things. he loves me, and he only fears that i may be taken from him." "but he talked with the wittleworths about them." "he couldn't help it then," pleaded maggie, "when he heard the story of your child from fitz." mr. checkynshaw abruptly left the house, and hastened to the shop of cutts & stropmore. he had a long conversation with andré, and finally they went to phillimore court together. the banker insisted upon seeing the locket, and andré showed it to him. chapter xxiv. me and choate. "a puppy!" hissed through the teeth of fitz, when the door closed behind the great man. "the blood of the wittleworths boils!" "then you had better let the blood of the wittleworths cool off, my son," added his mother, who had no taste for the grandiloquent. "he called me a puppy--called _me_ a puppy!" "you shouldn't bark so loud, then. i don't know that any but puppies interrupt people who are busy in conversation. when will you learn to keep still, fitz?" "when! when justice and humanity no longer require me to speak in tones of thunder against oppression! mother, we have struck the enemy a fatal blow! didn't you see him cringe?" "no, i didn't see him cringe. i am only sorry that i consented to have this suit brought against mr. checkynshaw." "o, mother! after all, you are only a woman!" "stop your nonsensical talk, fitz! why don't you go out and try to find a place to work?" "a place to work!" sneered fitz. "in a few weeks--be it a few months, if you please--we shall be in possession of that block of stores, with fifty thousand dollars in the bank. what need have i of a place? besides, i have this trial to look out for." "i think your father can attend to that better without you than with you." "father means well, and i trust he will do well," added the hopeful son, patronizingly. "but father's infirmity has weakened him. he is only the ghost of what he was." "are you not ashamed of yourself to speak of your father in that way, fitz? don't you make another such remark as that; if you do, you shall not stay in the house with him. your father has more knowledge and experience in one hair of his head than you have in the whole of your silly brain." "was i not right about this affair? have i not persisted, from the beginning, that the child was dead?" "that remains to be proved." "i think i understand this business better than any other man; and if you are beaten in the suit, it will only be because father does not take my advice. i have studied the case. i have given my whole, my undivided attention to the matter for several weeks." "it would have been better if you had given your undivided attention to something else." "mother, i see that you are bound to follow after foolishness rather than wisdom. but i cannot forget that i am your son, and that you are my mother. i shall not willingly permit your interests to be sacrificed. i advised father to retain choate. he has not seen fit to do so. this shows that he don't understand the matter; that he does not comprehend the difficulty in fighting a man like checkynshaw, who is both wealthy and influential. choate can carry the case. choate is a friend of mine--choate is; and i am going to see to it that choate don't stand in a false position before the country in this great case." "you silly fellow! what are you going to do now?" demanded mrs. wittleworth. "i'm going to see choate," replied fitz, putting on his cap. his mother protested against any and all steps which her son might take; but fitz left the house. he had a supreme contempt for the every-day practical wisdom of his father and mother, and believed that failure could result only from their neglect to hear and heed his sage counsels. he actually went to the office of the distinguished gentleman who stood at the head of the legal profession, and who had been a member of the united states senate. mr. choate was a very gentlemanly man, affable and kind to all, to whatever sphere in life they belonged. he spoke with gentleness and consideration to the boy as well as to the man. [illustration: me and choate.--page .] fitz had been the errand boy in the office of the eminent lawyer, and, of course, had practically experienced the kindness of his nature and the gentleness of his manner. fitz "felt big," and put on airs, even when he was a smaller boy than now. mr. choate appreciated genuine humor, and it is more than probable that he enjoyed the "big talk" of the office boy. perhaps he was more familiar with him on this account than he otherwise would have been. fitz did not find the distinguished gentleman in his office the first time he went there; but he repeated the call till he did find him. the eloquent advocate received him very graciously, as he did everybody who had any claim upon his attention. fitz stated his business as briefly as he could. "i cannot attend to the case," said the great lawyer, very kindly, but very decidedly. "excuse me, mr. choate; but this is a case of no little importance. ever since i was in your office, i have had the highest opinion of you, both as a man and a lawyer." "i thank you for your favorable consideration," replied the eminent orator, soberly. "if there is any man on the earth whom i respect and esteem above all others, that man is mr. choate." "i hope always to prove worthy of your regard." "i come to you now, sir, as a friend--for i am proud and happy to consider you as such. you were always very kind to me." "i trust i have always recognized your great merit." "you have, sir; and the boast of my life will be, that i have been associated with you in your office." "you do me honor; and i shall always hold in grateful remembrance the distinguished service you rendered us here." "it is glorious to be appreciated, mr. choate. you are appreciated, mr. choate. folks know you, and look up to you. they believe you are _some_." "i am grateful for their and your appreciation. but, really, mr. wittleworth, i must beg you to excuse me, for i have important business before me," added the lawyer, nervously turning over a bundle of papers, covered with strange characters, which no mortal man could read; for they were more inexplicable than chinese and syriac to a yankee farmer. "pardon me for detaining you yet a moment longer," pleaded fitz, placing himself in the centre of the room, with his hat under his arm. "this is a case of wrong and injustice, of oppression and usurpation. my mother is the rightful heir to a block of stores in this city, which the greed of avarice withholds from her. me and father have taken up the matter. we have been foully wronged;" and mr. wittleworth threshed his arm, and waxed eloquent. "the heel of injustice has been placed upon our necks. mr. choate, you are the people's advocate. rising superior to all hopes of fee or reward, you raise your eloquent voice in behalf of the widow and the orphan. you plead at the bar of justice for the rights of the down-trodden. your voice is like a trumpet, and--" "so is yours; i beg you will not speak so loud. what do you wish me to do?" interposed mr. choate. fitz explained what he wished the great orator to do--to raise his voice in behalf of the oppressed, meaning his mother and himself; and he soon became quite stormy again. his single auditor, evidently amused by this display of rhetoric, permitted him to go on. "who has the block of stores now?" asked mr. choate, when fitz began to be out of breath. "mr. checkynshaw, the banker." "ah, indeed! i am very sorry, but i am already retained on the other side." "on the other side!" gasped fitz. "i am; and really, mr. wittleworth, you must excuse me now. "on the other side!" repeated fitz. "can it be that the mighty name of choate is to be linked with injustice and oppression? i will not believe it! i counted something upon your friendship for me, mr. choate." the great orator was evidently trying to read some of the strange characters in the manuscript before him, and, regardless of what fitz was saying, had relapsed into a fit of abstraction, which effectually placed him out of the reach of mr. wittleworth's reproaches. the sheets looked as though a fish-worm had come out of the inkstand, and crawled over the virgin page. it was doubtful whether he was able to read anything he had written, and possibly he was trying to remember what he had intended to commit to the paper. fitz, finding that the distinguished gentleman took no further notice of him, put on his hat, and marched in stately grandeur out of the office. the great man had sunk considerably in his estimation, though, as a matter of history, he was never pained by having the fact brought to his knowledge. mr. wittleworth had a great deal of confidence in abstract right and justice. if mr. choate pleaded the cause of mr. checkynshaw, he would in this instance be beaten. it would be a good lesson to the great lawyer, and mr. wittleworth magnanimously hoped that he would profit by it. he was to lose all the glory, honor, and immortality to be gained by being on the right side in the great case of wittleworth _vs._ checkynshaw; but it was not mr. wittleworth's fault. he had given him an opportunity to enlist under the banner of truth and justice, and he had refused to do so. it was his own choice, and he must abide the consequences. mr. wittleworth rather pitied him, for he always had a very tender regard for the reputation of his friends. mr. wittleworth was compelled to rely upon the skill and knowledge of the legal gentleman whom his father had employed to conduct the suit; but he had faith that justice was on his side, and must prevail in the end. he waited--he could not do anything but wait--until the day assigned for the hearing of the case arrived. mr. wittleworth took a seat with his father and mother within the bar, on this, as it seemed to him, most momentous occasion the world had ever seen. mr. checkynshaw appeared by counsel, and asked for a continuation of the case for a reasonable time to enable him to bring his daughter from france. the banker's business lawyer said a few words in making the request, and then mr. choate, who had been employed by the banker, as well as retained, added the weight of his personal influence to the application. to the intense disgust of mr. wittleworth, it was granted so promptly that he hardly knew what had happened. another case was called, and the wittleworths went home. though mr. checkynshaw had threatened to sue them for the money he had paid, nothing more was said or heard from the action. fitz assured his father and mother that the banker could not produce his daughter, and that the case would not come to trial. if they were only firm and decided with him, mr. checkynshaw would give up the block of stores, and pay over the back rents. he must do so, or his reputation would be blasted forever. he must stand before the world as a knave and a swindler, unless he did full and ample justice to the widow (who had a husband), and the orphan (who had a father and mother); for mr. wittleworth, when he waxed eloquent, had a habit of confounding terms. about a week after the hearing which had been cut short so suddenly, fitz, deeming it his duty to look after the witnesses in the great case of wittleworth _vs._ checkynshaw, thought it advisable to call one evening at no. phillimore court. the door was locked, and the house was dark. he repeated the call every evening for a week, but with no better result. then he went in the daytime. no one answered his knock, and the door was as unyielding as a rock of granite. mr. wittleworth was bewildered. mr. checkynshaw had done this! he had spirited away the chief witness. fitz went to the barber's shop, and inquired for andré. he had left his place ten days before. fitz met leo on the street one day, a month later. "where do you live now?" he asked. "i am boarding in gridley street." "where are maggie and your father?" "gone to france with mr. checkynshaw after his daughter," replied leo, hurrying on his way; for, make or break, he intended to be at school in season. mr. wittleworth scratched his head and looked foolish. mr. checkynshaw appeared to be flanking him. chapter xxv. the elegant young lady. leo still slept at the house in phillimore court, though he took his meals in gridley street. it was necessary for him to go two or three times a day to his shop to look after his stock of mice, rabbits, pigeons, and guinea pigs, in which he still carried on a tolerably lucrative commerce in supplying his old friends and customers. every moment of his time was occupied from six o'clock in the morning until ten o'clock at night. he did everything "upon honor," and he carried this rule into his lessons as well as his mercantile speculations. what he learned he really learned, and never left the subject till he had fully mastered it. though he had been absent from school over two months, he stood so well in his class, that, with the severe exertion he made, he was able to regain the position he lost. as soon as his father began to improve in health, and there was a prospect that leo might again take his place in school, he devoted himself to his studies, and followed up his geography, history, and arithmetic with a zeal which promised the best results. he called upon the master, and received directions for the conduct of his course. there are always plenty of good people to help those who are willing to help themselves, and leo had all the friends he needed. everything was going on well with leo, even after the sudden disappearance of andré and maggie, whom, no doubt, he greatly missed in their absence. if he knew anything about the reason for their abrupt departure, he kept his own counsel, especially in the presence of fitz wittleworth, who, since he had discovered that "_his_ witness" had been tampered with, had become the tormentor of the young mechanic. fitz placed himself at the corner of gridley street almost every day, intent upon worming something out of leo. the latter was too busy to waste any time on such a fellow as mr. wittleworth, and used to avoid him, as far as he could, by taking a round-about way to his boarding-house. but sometimes fitz blundered upon his victim. "i want to see you, leo," said he one day, when he had by a happy scheme outflanked him. "i'm in a hurry, fitz; i can't stop now. my mice haven't had their dinner yet," replied leo, uneasily. "they won't starve just yet. hold on! i've got something for you," persisted fitz, when the victim began to move on. "i don't want anything." "did you know your father had got himself into a scrape?" "no, i didn't," answered leo, who was interested in this intelligence. "he has; and he'll have to answer to the court for clearing out. i suppose you never read law, and don't know anything about the subordination of witnesses. i'll tell you." "i can't stay to hear it now," replied leo, laughing, for he knew the difference between "subordination" and "subornation." "i want to talk with you about half an hour some time." "what about?" "about your father. checkynshaw has bought him up." "what do you mean by 'bought him up'?" demanded leo, indignantly. "i mean that checkynshaw has paid him to keep out of the way in our great case of wittleworth versus checkynshaw," added fitz. "i say he hasn't." "hasn't he cleared out?" "what if he has? he's coming back again." "don't tell me! i know something about law." "i won't tell you, and you needn't tell me. if you'll keep your side of the street, i'll keep mine. if you mean to tell me that andré maggimore has done anything wrong, or means to do anything wrong, you don't know the man." "i say he has. he was summoned as a witness for our side, and he has sold out to the enemy." "he hasn't done anything of the sort." "what has he gone to france for, then?" "that's his business, not yours." "yes, it is my business; i manage our suit, and you had better tell me all you know about it." "i guess not! in the first place, i don't know much about it; and in the second, if i did, i wouldn't tell you." "if andré maggimore commits perjury--" "that will do, fitz wittleworth. i don't want to quarrel with you, and i don't mean to do so; but you can't talk like that to me without getting a broken head. so you can't talk to me at all. if you speak to me again, i won't answer you." leo turned abruptly from fitz, bolted into a run, and did not slacken his pace till he reached the house. he was tempted to pitch into fitz; his fists had involuntarily closed; and he felt that if he listened any longer, he should not be able to control his wrath. leo stuck to his text, and when fitz attempted to speak to him, he dodged him as though he had been an unclean beast. of course leo knew why his father and his sister had gone away; but he did not intend to give the wittleworths the benefit of his knowledge. he had an occasional letter from maggie, and about a week before the exhibition, he received one informing him that she and her father would sail for home in the next steamer, and expected to be present at the exhibition. the great day of the school year arrived. the examination for medals had taken place, and leo confidently expected this crowning distinction of his school life, though no one could know who were to be the happy recipients of the medals until their names were called on the great day. there was only one damper upon his enthusiasm as the eventful occasion dawned upon him. the steamer bearing andré and maggie had been expected the day before, but she had not arrived; and leo felt that half his pleasure would be lost because they were not present to witness his triumph. the exercises of the exhibition proceeded, and leo spoke his piece, and carried through his part in the original dialogue to the entire satisfaction of all interested. the silver pitcher had been presented to the "beloved teacher," and the chairman of the district committee had risen to deliver the medal speech, when the crowd at the doors was opened by the gentlemanly policeman in attendance to allow the passage of some favored guests. leo was in a flutter of excitement; for, shortly after the exercises began, the school-house being located near the bay, he had heard the two guns which announced the arrival of an english steamer, in those blissful days when boston was favored by the cunard line. through the crowd came mr. checkynshaw, followed by a young lady of remarkable beauty, who was most elegantly dressed; and behind her came andré maggimore. they were provided with seats, and the exercises proceeded. everybody seemed to pay more attention to the beautiful young lady than to the excellent chairman, whose _forte_ certainly was not speech-making. the fashion of her dress was a season ahead of the ideas of other ladies present, and was of the most costly material. some of the people thought they had seen her before, but they were not quite sure. leo was certain that he had seen her before, and he found it hard work to keep his seat during the solemn and impressive remarks of the worthy chairman of the district committee; and it was only when he began to call the names of the successful candidates for the medal that the whole attention of the aspirant was given to him. "leopold maggimore," called the chairman for the sixth name, which would have been the first if leo had not been absent so long. there was some applause bestowed upon each of the recipients; but that which greeted leo's name was warm and enthusiastic. andré smiled, and the beautiful young lady in the elegant dress smiled; and even mr. checkynshaw was so far in sympathy with the occasion that he smiled too, when the blue ribbon was put upon the neck of leo. after that, the time hung heavy upon all our characters who were present, especially as the distinguished gentlemen who had been invited to make a "few remarks" were unusually long-winded and prosy. the exhibition was finished at last, and the elegant young lady flew to the seat of leo, the silk fluttering like a summer tempest, grasped both his hands, and actually kissed him before the assembled multitude. there were several scores of nice young men present, who envied leo now more than when the blue ribbon was placed on his neck; and it ought to be added that leo bore his martyrdom with remarkable fortitude. andré then grasped his hand, and the tears stole down his pale face. even mr. checkynshaw condescended to take the hand of the young man, and congratulate him upon the distinction he had won. the party left the school-house. there was a carriage waiting at the door for the banker, which bore them to pemberton square. it is not of much consequence what happened there, and we need only say that the elegant young lady was rather sad, and seemed to cling more to andré and leo than to the lofty man who entertained them, or to his family. the great case of wittleworth _vs._ checkynshaw had been twice postponed during the absence of the defendant, and it was called for the fourth time only a few days after his return. all the parties were present this time. mr. fitz wittleworth did not seem quite as confident as before. there were indications of a "gigantic conspiracy," as he expressed it, against the majesty of justice as represented by the wittleworths. it was alleged that the defendant had his daughter in court--and a beautiful young lady she was; but mr. wittleworth insisted that this person--elegant and richly dressed as she appeared--was an impostor, employed to personate the deceased child of his powerful rival, and thus enable him to retain the block of stores and the back rents. mrs. checkynshaw and elinora were in court; so were andré and leo. mr. choate was there, and mr. wittleworth cast a reproachful glance at him; but it was fortunate for the distinguished orator that he did not know how much he had fallen in the estimation of one "who had formerly been in the office with him." certain dry formalities were solemnly passed through; the counsel for the plaintiff made a statement, during which he read extracts from the will of mr. osborne. it was plain enough to everybody that the block of stores belonged to mrs. wittleworth, unless the trustee and defendant could produce his daughter. she was produced; but fitz was still hopeful. the elegant young lady was no other than miss maggie maggimore. it was evident enough to him that she had been engaged to play the part in the farce. mrs. checkynshaw was the first witness called. she told the whole story about the cholera in paris; that marguerite, her husband's daughter, had the disease first, and was reported to have died with it; that she was taken with the terrible malady shortly afterwards; and that the child wore, at the time she was taken to the hospital, a gold locket, which contained portraits of her father and mother, and a lock of the hair of each. this locket was handed to her, and she identified it. fitz began to be alarmed. andré was called next. he had been employed as an interpreter in the hospital in the rue lacépède. he had frequently seen the child whose name was entered on the books of the establishment as marguerite poulebah. he was informed that her parents had died, and that she had no friends to whom she could be sent. he became very much interested in her, and when something was said about taking her to an orphan asylum, he had invited her to go home with him. he kept her there a few days, and became so much attached to her that he was not willing to give her up. his landlady took care of her till he embarked for america, where he soon found employment as a barber and had ever since retained her. he identified the locket as the one worn by the child when he took her from the hospital. he confessed that he had done wrong in not using greater efforts to find the friends of the child; but they were so much attached to each other that a separation would have been insupportable to either. andré finished his direct statement, and the counsel for the plaintiff immediately opened upon him so fiercely that fitz began to feel that the day was not wholly lost. chapter xxvi. the rich man's daughter. "where were you born, mr. maggimore?" asked the wittleworth lawyer. "in london," replied andré. "are you a frenchman?" "my father was italian, my mother french." "did you ever learn the barber's trade, or did you pick it up yourself?" "i was apprenticed to a barber in london, and served seven years." "have you always worked at the business?" "no, sir. i used to shave an english gentleman who had a stiff arm, and i finally went into his service as his valet. i remained with him till he died of cholera in paris. i lived with him fourteen years," answered andre, meekly. "have you ever told any person that marguerite checkynshaw died at the hospital?" demanded the attorney, sharply. "i have, sir." "was it true?" "no, sir." "why did you say so, then?" "because i thought it was true." "what made you think so?" "the last name of the marguerite that died was so like checkynshaw." "what was the name of the other marguerite?" "poulebah." "did you make any effort to find the parents of the child you adopted?" "i did; i found the lodgings they had occupied, and the _concierge_ identified some clothing and the locket which i carried to him. he told me that the parents of the child were both dead. he only knew that they were english. i have no doubt now that he was a bad man, and that he told me what he knew was not true in regard to the child." "why so?" "i think it is probable the chuckinghams left some property in their rooms which he desired to keep, and because i have learned from mr. checkynshaw that the house i visited was not the one occupied by him. the _concierge_ told me two falsehoods--that the clothing and locket belonged to the child of his lodger, and that she spoke french." the lawyer twisted the matter about in various ways; but andré was as clear as light itself, and he did not materially contradict himself. mrs. checkynshaw was called for the defence; but, to the astonishment and disgust of the legal gentleman and his employers, she testified, in the most positive manner, that the elegant young lady in court was marguerite checkynshaw. she had taken care of her as a child, and she could not be mistaken. mrs. wittleworth was put upon the stand, with the letter announcing the death of marguerite in her hand; but, poor woman, all her evidence was against herself. she identified the locket, and was in the end very sure that the beautiful young lady was her niece. mr. fitzherbert wittleworth was utterly disgusted, though he could not help believing that the young lady was his cousin. not a doubt was left in the mind of any person, and of course mr. checkynshaw won his case; but the great man was very far from satisfied with himself, or with the position in which the trial left him. it was apparent to all the world that he had attempted to defraud mrs. wittleworth out of the block of stores, and ten years' income upon it; but the banker was not a man to bend before the storm of popular opinion. he took the trouble to define his position, and to explain away what was dark and unsatisfactory. he did not believe his child was dead. he was satisfied that marguerite poulebah was marguerite checkynshaw, though he could not find her. the director of the hospital said the sisters had taken her, and he was sure she was living. besides, it would have been wicked to hand the property over to mrs. wittleworth for her drunken husband to squander away, and make her a beggar a second time. he intended, in due time, if his daughter did not appear, to pass the property to the rightful heir when it could be safely done. the integrity of his intentions could not be doubted, for had he not given mrs. wittleworth ten thousand dollars? the quitclaim deed, he declared, was only to save himself from being annoyed by fitz and his father. of course he intended to make it all right in the end. mr. checkynshaw did not forgive the wittleworths for the mischief they had attempted to do. he hinted at steps for compelling them to restore the ten thousand dollars; but maggie protested, in her way, against such a course, and nothing was ever done. marguerite checkynshaw went to live in pemberton square; but she was not happy there, and every day she visited the house at no. phillimore court. poor andré was actually miserable. he had lost his darling child, and it was little comfort to know that she dwelt in the midst of luxury and splendor. though he saw her every day, he was sad, and almost disconsolate. maggie tried to be happy in her new home, but her heart was not there. mrs. checkynshaw was cold and distant to her, and elinora was a little, petulant, disagreeable tyrant, who lived for herself alone. she tried to love her, but she tried in vain. her father was kind and indulgent to her; yet she saw but little of him. maggie went to school for two years, and was busy with her studies and her music lessons; but not an evening passed without her going to see her foster-father, after he left the shop. about nine o'clock leo walked home with her; but he seldom entered her father's house. in the choice of a pursuit for life, leo won the day, and went to learn the machinist's trade. he did not give up the "mouse business" entirely, but found time to make new houses; and there were customers to purchase them, adding quite a sum to the income of his foster-father. a housekeeper was employed to take maggie's place; but home was never the place it had been after maggie went away. john wittleworth kept his solemn promise, and continued to be a steady man. he obtained employment in a wholesale grocery, and served so faithfully that he won the esteem and regard of the firm. his former ambition returned to him, and when he spoke of going into business on his own account, with a portion of his wife's money as his capital, he was admitted as a partner in the firm that employed him. he was a man of excellent abilities, and in time he acquired a handsome property. fitz never amounted to much. his ideas were too big for his station. he obtained several situations; but, as he aspired to manage his employers' business without their aid, he was often out of a place. when his father went into business, he was taken as an entry-clerk; but he was such a trial that even parental solicitude could not tolerate him, and he was sent away. he was not a bad boy; but self-conceit was the rock on which he wrecked himself. he found another situation, and another, and another; but his stay in each was short. and so he went from one place to another, achieving nothing, until he was twenty-five years old, when he married a lady ten years his senior, whom even the twenty thousand dollars she possessed did not tempt any one else to make a wife. fitz is a gentleman now; and though his lot at home is trying, he still maintains his dignity, and lives on his wife's property. he is not dissipated, and has no bad habits; but he does not amount to anything. people laugh at him, and speak contemptuously of him behind his back; and he is, and will continue to be, nothing but a cipher in the community. in the little smoking-room in the house in pemberton square, three years after maggie went to live there, on the very sofa where andré maggimore had lain, was stretched the inanimate form of another person, stricken down by the same malady. it was mr. checkynshaw. the two gentlemen with whom he had been conversing when attacked by the fit had placed him there, and dr. fisher had been sent for. from that sofa he was conveyed to his bed, still insensible. his eyes were open, but he knew none of those who stood by his couch. the doctor came; but the banker was out of the reach of human aid, though he survived a day and a half. maggie watched over him, as she had over andré; but vain was her care, and vain were her hopes. her father died. a few days later a long funeral procession left the house, and mr. checkynshaw was borne to his last resting-place at mount auburn. mrs. checkynshaw was bewildered and overwhelmed; elinora was so nervous that she required an attendant constantly; and maggie had little time to weep herself, so devoted was she to the wants of others. by the death of her father, everything was changed with maggie. there was little sympathy between her and the other members of the family. mrs. checkynshaw decided that the house should be sold, and that she and the two daughters should board with a relative of her own. maggie did not like this arrangement, though she was prepared to accept it if no better one could be suggested. she stated her objection in the gentlest terms; but her step-mother was cold, and even harsh, and maggie realized that the future was to be more unhappy than the past. in this emergency she consulted her old friend, dr. fisher, who was familiar with all the circumstances of the family. "i cannot live with mrs. checkynshaw and elinora, now that my father is no longer with us," said she, sadly. "i do not like them, and they do not like me." "it is not necessary that you should live with them," replied the doctor. "couldn't i live with andré again?" asked she, eagerly. "certainly you can. leave this to me. i will see your father's executors, and tell them your wishes." "thank you, doctor." "the block of stores yields a large income, besides your share of your father's property; but, maggie, you are under age, and you must have a guardian to take charge of your property. your own wishes in this matter will be consulted." "andré!" exclaimed she, with enthusiasm. the doctor smiled, and shook his head. "why not?" demanded she, her face looking sad again. "andré is a very good man, but he does not know much about business." "there is nothing to do at present but to collect the rents on the block of stores. i could not name any one but andré for my guardian." "perhaps the court will not approve of him if you do," added the doctor, with a smile. "i'm sure andré is honest and true, and will be faithful to the end. he knows enough about business to take care of the property." maggie argued like a woman, and the doctor promised to do what he could to meet her wishes. mr. checkynshaw's executors were opposed to the plan; but, at the earnest solicitation of maggie and the doctor, they at last consented to recommend it, and andré was appointed guardian of the rich man's daughter. if ever a man was amazed and bewildered, andré was, when he found himself the keeper of such a vast property. maggie had a plan of her own. andré was to be a barber no longer. a nice brick house in harrison avenue was hired, and furnished in good style, and the strange family were once more united. leo sold out the mouse business to tom casey, and was as happy as a lord in his new home. the executors paid maggie's share of her father's estate to andré, in accordance with the provisions of the will. the ex-barber was not a business man; but this fact rendered him all the more cautious in handling the property intrusted to his care. he had shaved men of dignity and substance for so many years, that he had no lack of friendly advisers. with fear and trembling he discharged his sacred duty. but andré's duties as guardian were abruptly terminated one day, before maggie was twenty-one. a remarkably good-looking young lawyer, mr. charles harding, the partner of an older legal gentleman who had done andré's business, relieved him of his charge by marrying his ward. everybody said he was a splendid fellow, and maggie knew he was. no one seemed to be astonished except leo, who thought the affair had come off rather suddenly. he did not exactly understand how maggie could have fallen in love with any fellow--he never thought of such things. "so maggie is married," said mr. fitz wittleworth one day, when they met in the street. "yes; and a capital fellow harding is, too," replied leo, warmly. "it was rather sudden--wasn't it?" "well, it was rather sudden; but when i think what a beautiful girl maggie was, and when i think what a good girl she was, i am not at all surprised--not a bit." "but, leo, i always thought you would marry maggie," added mr. wittleworth, stroking his chin. "i!" exclaimed leo, opening his eyes. "why, i never thought of such a thing." "the more fool you, when you could have done it." "what, marry my sister!" "she isn't your sister, any more than i am." "well, it's all the same thing, and i could never look upon her as anything but a sister," replied leo, as he hastened to his work. leo was satisfied; for he could still love mrs. harding as a sister; and he had certainly never thought of her in any other relation. perhaps he did not think of anything at that time but machines and machinery. both he and andré remained with mrs. harding, for she would not consent to their leaving her. and her husband liked them because she did. when leo was twenty-five, his inventive genius had laid the foundation of his fortune, and his "royalties" soon made him independent, for he had the business ability to profit by his inventions. when he was married, the "strange family" was separated, but never in spirit. andré goes from one house to the other half a dozen times a day, and is honored as a "grandpa" by four little boys and girls. leo has always been the determined and persevering individual he was in his youth, when engaged in the "mouse business." as an apprentice, as n journeyman, as a master machinist, and as an inventor, it has been "make or break" with him; and, though the parts of his machinery often did break, and the apparatus failed to do its expected work, he did not give up; and he conquered in the end, whatever trials and difficulties interposed. mrs. harding is superlatively happy in her husband, her children, her foster-father, whom she still lovingly calls "_mon père_" and in her noble brother. she calls, at long intervals, upon mrs. checkynshaw and elinora; and peace reigns between the two houses of checkynshaw and wittleworth. though she was never happier than when she knew no other relation than that of the poor man's daughter, she has every reason to be thankful, and is thankful, to god for the blessings which have come to her as the rich man's daughter. recollections of a busy life. [illustration: _painted by s. walters._ _engraved by r. g. reeve._ view of the port of liverpool, .] recollections of a busy life being the reminiscences of a liverpool merchant - . by sir william b. forwood d.l. j.p. illustrated with seventeen plates "_work for some good, be it ever so slowly; cherish some flower, be it ever so lowly; labour! true labour is noble and holy._" liverpool: henry young & sons . to my children and grandchildren. preface. many of the following pages were written for private circulation. influential friends have, however, urged me to publish them, as they may appeal to a wider circle of readers. i have consented, with diffidence, but have availed myself of the opportunity to add some chapters upon local affairs, which i trust may be of public interest, and recall pleasing memories of bygone times. w. b. f. bromborough hall, _december st, _. a foreword. there are but few men whose lives are worthy to be written for general publication, but there are many who have accumulated recollections and experiences which must be interesting and instructive to those of their own kith and kin, and it is for these i am about to jot down a few reminiscences of a life which has been largely spent in public work--in helping to build up the fortunes of a great seaport, in the local government of an important municipality, and in the administration of justice. should these pages fall into the hands of friends i am sure they will be read with kindly and sympathetic feelings, and strangers will, i hope, accord to them the consideration and indulgence due to a narrative written only for private publication. life is said to be short, but when i look back upon the events which have crowded into mine i seem to have lived a long time, and one cannot but reflect that if the prospect had always looked as long as the retrospect, how much more patience and deliberation might have been thrown into the ordering of one's affairs, and how entirely this might have altered the course of events and changed the goal of one's endeavours. it is perhaps a merciful and wise ordinance that no man can reckon beyond the day that is before him, and therefore each day should be so lived as to be typical of our life; for it is the only portion of time of which we may truly say it is our own, and at our own disposal for good or for evil. as each life, therefore, has its ambitions--small or great--its conquests, its trials, and its failures, so each day has to bear its own burden of trials and anxieties; and as the daily life is lived, and the daily task accomplished, so will our life's work be fulfilled; but how few there are who can look back and say their lives have been a success, and that they have accomplished all they should or all they might have done. a great philosopher and thinker, who passed away only recently, stated, on the jubilee of his professorship, when his contemporaries were saying that future generations would proclaim him as having accomplished greater things than sir isaac newton, that "his life had not been a success, that he had given his time and his mental powers to the solution of practical problems of everyday life rather than to the claims of the higher philosophy;" and so, in our more humble spheres each of us must feel that we have neglected opportunities, and perhaps the opportunities which we most regret having neglected are those by which we could have done good to our fellow-men, and not those which made for the satisfying of our ambition. there can be no isolation more dreary than the isolation of an old age, cut off by the lack of training and habit from sympathy with humanity, alone in its selfishness, untouched by the joy of feeling and caring for others. but even short of this isolation of a selfish old age, there must come to all of us a feeling of disappointment that our part in helping forward the well-being of others has not been larger and more fruitful: "frail is the web the tired worker weaves left incomplete: fair was life's promise, scanty are its sheaves; what are its laurels, but a few sere leaves withering beneath our feet." i will, however, cease to moralise, and will conclude with this thought which, i think, forms an appropriate preface to an autobiography. how much greater would be the sum total of human happiness if men would accept as their guide the experience of those who had gone before! how many disasters might be avoided! how many successful careers might be shaped and built up! but i suppose as long as men are as they are they will refuse to accept the experience of others, but will make their own, and through blunders and mistakes a certain proportion will arrive at success, but a larger proportion will struggle on, on the ragged edge and under the cold shade of adversity until the end of their days. w. b. f. bromborough hall, cheshire, _january st, _. contents. a foreword. page. chapter i.--early years my father edge hill everton bootle seaforth the "great britain," s.s. wrecks on the seaforth shore walton aigburth the right hon. w. e. gladstone his last speech --waterloo and southport railway: opening edge lane early school-days home life wavertree park chapter ii.--voyage round the world --sail in the "red jacket" australia west coast of south america easterly gales in the channel chapter iii.--liverpool liverpool in - the town the docks the dock board election birkenhead bootle the exchange cotton brokers commerce shipowners merchants the american war of - blockade running the southern bazaar the volunteer movement intellectual life society chapter iv.--business life my father's office financial panics, - --wrecked in the "great eastern" --arrested in new york leech, harrison and forwood my brother arthur chapter v.--public life, --president philomathic society professor huxley --elected to the town council: early experiences chamber of commerce: --elected vice-president - --president of the chamber - --elected president of the re-constituted chamber by the votes of the subscribers to the exchange news room --fellow royal statistical society --president of the american chamber of commerce --chairman of the joint committee of the northern towns on railway rates --president united cotton association, the precursor of the cotton association --president of the international cotton convention --mayor of liverpool visit of general sir frederick roberts visit of the prince and princess of wales the opening of the north docks fenian scare --lord mayor chapter vi.--the fenian troubles --attempt to blow up the town hall infernal machines the pensioner's cork leg thanks of the home secretary chapter vii.--the town council the town hall--its hospitality work in the city council - --watch committee burning of the landing stage - --water committee: the vyrnwy scheme hawes water - --parliamentary committee chairman extension of the boundaries the manchester ship canal the dock board and the bridgwater canal --corporation leaseholds: chairman of special committee to enquire into report --estate committee: chairman chapter viii.--library, museum and arts committee --chairman --extension of free libraries mr. carnegie the museum extended the art galleries among the studios lord leighton mr. greiffenhagen sir john millais sir hubert herkomer sir john gilbert mr. whistler --retired from the committee mr. r. d. holt chapter ix.--knighthood and freedom of liverpool --knighthood: at windsor castle honorary freedom of city of liverpool chapter x.--political work party politics in liverpool conservative whip --s. r. graves, m.p. --john torr, m.p. --viscount sandon, m.p. --edward whitley, m.p. mr. rathbone, m.p. --election, south-west lancashire: mr. gladstone and mr. r. a. cross --chairman waterloo polling district --chairman of the southport division {the hon. george a. curzon to { {mr. curzon member for southport lord curzon's work as the viceroy of india duties of a chairman of a division free trade and protection chapter xi.--judicial work --placed on liverpool bench --placed on lancashire county bench --placed on cheshire county bench --deputy-chairman of quarter sessions, west derby hundred --chairman of quarter sessions --chairman of the county bench --chairman of the licensing justices chairman of the visiting justices, walton jail --appointed a deputy-lieutenant for lancashire --high sheriff for lancashire interesting ceremony at lancaster castle the king and queen at knowsley chapter xii.--blundellsands, bromborough & crosby blundellsands crosby grammar school bromborough chapter xiii.--directorships --chairman overhead railway --opening by the marquis of salisbury, prime minister --chairman of the bank of liverpool --director of the cunard company some incidents castle wemyss making of the cunard company liverpool and mediterranean trade white star line mr. t. h. ismay sir alfred jones, k.c.m.g. --director employers' liability assurance company. chapter xiv.--the churches the church, - dr. mcneile dr. ryle, first bishop of liverpool nonconformists the building of a cathedral early history chairman of executive committee foundation-stone laid by the king consecration of the lady chapel convocation church congress new york cathedral chapter xv.--philanthropy, charitable and social work crusade against intemperance workmen's dwellings local workers chapter xvi.--the seamen's orphanage, etc. --royal commission on motors chapter xvii.--the earl of derby appointments to the county bench prince fushimi of japan chapter xviii.--travels improvements in modern travel --franco-prussian battlefields --costa rica jamaica --mexico conversion of mexican southern railway bonds president diaz --america: tour with lord claud hamilton president roosevelt --the desert of sahara the count's garden, biskra egypt --india: impressions of --lord clive: the result of a motor tour chapter xix.--recreations yachting --obtained certificate from the board of trade as a master mariner windermere: happy days history of the royal windermere yacht club yacht racing association one of the founders member of the council chairman of the committee of measurement royal canoe club --rear-commodore royal mersey yacht club gardening orchids chapter xx.--obiter dicta success in life observation imagination integrity list of illustrations. liverpool, _frontispiece_. shaw's brow _facing page_ dock offices the old liverpool exchange the town hall laying foundation stone, vyrnwy free libraries "ramleh," east front bromborough hall, garden front the old dutch garden the lady chapel, liverpool cathedral fatehpur sikri benares the himalayas the taj mahal yachting on windermere portrait chapter i. early years. a great city--its people and its institutions, as seen by a contemporary presents incidents that do not specially appeal to the historian, who is more concerned with the larger features and events which mark its growth; but those incidents may serve as sidelights upon the movements and the spirit of the times, and woven round the outlines of a life which has been threaded in the weft of its activities, may afford a background to bring into more prominent relief and give juster proportion to the characters and the actions of the men who have built up its prosperity. my story will therefore be of the men and the incidents of my time, which i think may perhaps possess more than a passing interest, and i hope serve to awaken pleasant memories. as i do not intend to write a record of my family life, which with its abounding happiness--some great sorrows--successes and disappointments--must be a sacred thing, i shall only make such references to my family, or to those friends still happily with us, as may be necessary to my narrative. my great-grandfather, who was born at plymouth, was a lieutenant in the royal navy and served on board the "foudroyant." he was killed in action, and his widow, in recognition of his courage, was awarded a post captain's pension. she had one son, my grandfather, george forwood, who came to liverpool, where in he joined mr. john moss as partner in the otterspool oil works (mr. moss was the father of the late sir thomas moss, bart.). my grandfather appears to have been a man of considerable ability. mr. hughes, in his _history of liverpool bankers_, describes him as "an exceedingly able man, possessing some public spirit." his published letters and pamphlets on economic subjects show that he took much interest in the pressing questions of the day, and was very active in promoting the repeal of the corn laws and in the amendment of the poor laws. my father, the late thomas brittain forwood, was born in russell street in , and was educated at dr. prior's school in pembroke place; he received what was known as a good classical education, and up to the close of his life his knowledge of latin was fresh and accurate, and he could quote freely and aptly from latin authors. he was gifted with a love for mechanics, and he claimed to have made a locomotive when a boy, using as cylinders two surgical syringes. he entered the office of leech, harrison and co. in , when he was years of age, became a partner at the age of , and retired in , when he purchased the estate of thornton manor, in cheshire; here he resided for the remainder of his life. my father was endowed with a quick and bright intelligence, and was a most excellent correspondent in days when letter writing was a fine art. he had a love and capacity for hard work. he was too much absorbed in his own business to take an active part in public life, but he was for a time a vice-president of the chamber of commerce, and took a leading part in the effort to obtain a reduction in the railway charges levied upon liverpool traffic. he was for twenty-two years a member of the mersey dock board, and chairman of the traffic committee. after he retired from business he became a magistrate for the county of cheshire, and greatly interested himself in the restoration of chester cathedral. he died at his london house, in regent's park, december th, , and was buried at thornton hough, cheshire. my mother was a daughter of william bower, the founder of the firm of william bower and sons, cotton brokers. my grandmother, mrs. bower, was left a widow when quite young, but must have been a woman of much ability, for during the minority of her eldest son, for several years she carried on the business, going down to the office every day. in this she was actively assisted by the late mr. geo. holt, the founder of the firm of geo. holt and co., with the result that when her son came of age the business was one of the largest and most prosperous on the cotton exchange. i often heard her speak with gratitude of the noble self-sacrifice of mr. holt during all these years. i was born at edge hill, liverpool, in --it gives some perspective to this date when we remember that the year witnessed the first publication of bradshaw's railway guide, and the inauguration of the penny post. it was the year after the accession and marriage of queen victoria, and one of the last of the dark years of the fiscal policy of protection in england; so that i may claim that my seventy years have witnessed a material progress on every side, which has been simply marvellous, and has eclipsed in the brilliancy of achievement any former period in the history of our country. the use of the steam-engine has been increased and extended until it has become the handmaiden of every industrial occupation; and following in its train we have seen the development of the spinning jenny, and the blast furnace. and to-day we see that steam is being dethroned from its high position by the electrical dynamo and the hydraulic ram, and the turbine is taking the place of the reciprocating engine. the internal combustion engine has been invented, and the motor-car is rapidly superseding the horse-drawn vehicle; while the biplane and monoplane have given a reality to aviation which never entered the most visionary dreams of a few years ago. my father's house at edge hill overlooked the grounds of mount vernon hall and the gardens of the vicarage; to the east were open fields, with a few large villas dotted about. fashionable liverpool still dwelt in the large georgian houses fringing everton hill, which looked down upon one of the loveliest views imaginable. in the foreground were the trees and woods which ran along what is now netherfield road; beyond these the river flowed; in the distance the wirral peninsula stretched out, backed by the welsh hills. but the town of liverpool was pushing its way up to everton, and san domingo road was ceasing to be fashionable; while aigburth, prince's park, and edge lane were rapidly becoming the most popular suburbs of the fast-rising seaport. soon after i was born my father removed to marsh lane, bootle, and there were few more charming spots at that time. i remember the grand trees which encircled bootle hall and overarched marsh lane; here dwelt in sylvan retreats the mathers, the birches, and the tyrers. the trees extended down to the sea-shore, where miller's castle stood sentinel--a modern building remarkable for its keep and battlemented walls. about half a mile nearer liverpool there was a row of large houses, known as fort terrace; here one of my uncles lived. the garden ran down to the sea-shore, and we as boys passed out of the garden to bathe. the canada dock is built on the site of fort terrace. my father removed again, further out, to seaforth, to a large house on the crosby road, facing an open space known as "potter's field," which was bounded on the further side by the shore. i was sent to school at mrs. carter's, a celebrated dame's school, where many young liverpool boys were educated. mr. arthur earle was one of my classmates. seaforth was a very prettily wooded village, fine elm trees margining the highway right up to the canal at litherland. the village at that time contained two other important schools, miss davenport's and the rev. mr. rawson's. mr. rawson was vicar of the parish. mr. gladstone, lord cross, and dean stanley were educated at mr. rawson's. mr. rawson was very fond of telling the story of mr. gladstone, when a boy, spending his holiday afternoons lying before the fire reading virgil; even in those days he had formed great expectations of his pupil's future career. seaforth vicarage stood between the church and the railway, and was surrounded by large gardens. litherland was also a charming rural village, containing many grand old elm trees, and several large houses. waterloo was a rising seaside place, very fashionable in the summer; here liverpool merchants occupied cottages, for in those times a cottage at the seaside was the usual method of spending the summer: fishings in norway, moors in scotland, and tours all over the world not then being in vogue. our home at seaforth commanded a very beautiful marine view. i remember seeing the "great britain" sail, and the same night she was stranded on the coast of ireland. for years the "great britain" was regarded as one of the wonders of the world. she was considered to be such a leviathan that people said she would never pay, and i believe she never did; her tonnage was under , tons. she remained the largest ship afloat for many years. the "great britain" went ashore in dundrum bay on the nd september, , and was refloated and towed to liverpool, august th, . she remained for some time in the north atlantic trade, was afterwards engaged in the australian trade, and subsequently was converted into a four-masted sailing ship. her final use was as a coal hulk at the falkland islands. i also saw the glasgow steamer "orion" sail on her fatal voyage. she was stranded on the mull of galloway, and many lives were lost; this was in . very frequently after the prevalence of easterly winds, the entire channel between the rock light and the crosby lightship was crowded with ships, large and small, working their way out to sea--a lovely sight. i have frequently counted over sail in sight at one time. on the bootle shore, somewhere about where the hornby dock is situated, there stood two high landmarks--very conspicuous objects marking the fairway through the rock channel, then very much used; they linger in my memory, associated with many pleasant donkey rides around them. bootle church in those days had two towers, and the old church was quite as ugly as the one now existing. the dock committee built the sea wall of the canada dock some time before the docks were constructed. i remember about the year seeing seven ships wrecked against this sea wall; they had dragged their anchors and were driven ashore by a north-west gale. wrecks on the bootle and seaforth shores were quite common occurrences. the farmers in the district fenced their fields with timber from ships stranded on the shore, and the villagers were not above pilfering their cargoes. the barque "dickey sam" with a cargo of tobacco from virginia was stranded on the seaforth sands in , and an onslaught was made on her cargo by the villagers; and to protect it, my father organised a body of young men to stand guard over it--not an easy matter, as the hogsheads of tobacco were strewn along the beach for several miles. his efforts were rewarded by the underwriters presenting to him a silver salver with an appropriate inscription. access to seaforth and waterloo from liverpool was afforded by a four-horse 'bus, which ran in the morning and evening; express boats also sailed along the canal in summer, starting from the bridge at litherland. it was a pretty walk through the fields to litherland, and a charming sail along the canal to the wharf in great howard street. riding on horseback on the sea-shore was a very favourite pastime. many business men rode into town, keeping to the shore as far as sandhills station. on the road to liverpool, and midway between bootle and liverpool, surrounded by fields, were the ruined walls of bank hall, which for years had been the residence of the moores, one of the most celebrated liverpool families; they were large owners of property, and for that long period were closely identified with the public life of the little town. the hall had been pulled down and the materials used for the erection of the large stone farm buildings and an important farm-house. in my boyhood days the barns and farm-house still remained, and also the ancient garden wall, flanked with high stone gate-posts and surmounted by large carved stone urns, such as were common in the early georgian period. a deep and wide ditch ran along the front of the wall, which was part of the old moat. the ashcrofts were the tenants of the farm, and i can remember making hay in a field which would be about the site of the present bankhall railway station. further along again, in great howard street, stood the jail, commonly called the french prison, many french prisoners of war having been confined there during the peninsular war. near sandhills station there stood a large house, surrounded by trees, the residence of john shaw leigh, one of the founders of the present liverpool. i remember being taken to see the icehouse in the grounds, which formed a sort of cave. walton was a very pretty village, and remained so until a comparatively recent date; its lanes were shaded by stately trees, amid which there nestled the charming old thatched cottages which formed the village. the church, the mother church of liverpool, was a landmark for miles, and amid its rustic and rural surroundings was picturesque and romantic. near at hand were skirving's nursery gardens, quite celebrated in their time. the southern end of the town preserved its suburban aspect for a much longer period. aigburth road and its great elm trees remained untouched by the builder of cottages until quite recent times. prince's road was made in , and was margined on either side by fields, which for long years remained in a more or less ragged condition, some of the land being occupied by squatters, living in wooden tenements such as we are familiar with when property lies derelict, past cultivation, but not yet ripe for the builder. aigburth road and st. michael's hamlet retained their charming and picturesque features until such a recent period that i need not dwell upon them. few towns had more attractive and beautiful suburbs; now the tramways have encouraged the building of small property in every direction, and suburban liverpool is almost destroyed. the area available for residences has always been limited to the east and south, owing to the proximity of st. helens, wigan, widnes, and garston. it would have been a wise policy if our city fathers had set apart a sanctuary for better-class houses, from which tramways were excluded, and thus avoid driving so many large ratepayers to the cheshire side to find a home. my sketch of seaforth and its neighbourhood would not be complete unless i say a word about several rather celebrated houses which existed in the district. one was seaforth hall, long known as "muspratt's folly." mr. muspratt, who built the house, and who lived and at the age of died in it, had the prescience to see that the sandhills, which he bought for a nominal price, would some day become a part of liverpool, and he had also the enterprise to erect one of the finest houses about liverpool. another important house was seafield, near waterloo, the residence of dr. hicks; it was surrounded by a large park. this has since been laid out and built over, and is now known as waterloo park. the third interesting house was seaforth house, the residence of sir john gladstone, and where his famous son spent his young days. in the 'seventies mr. robertson gladstone, the brother of the premier, had a scheme to modernise the old family house, which his brother, mr. w. e. gladstone, who owned the property, allowed him to carry out. mr. robertson gladstone was my colleague on the watch committee, and he invited me to go out with him to see the alterations he was making, which i found comprised the construction of a large circular saloon in the centre of the house. this was a very fine apartment, but it ruined the rest of the house, making all the other rooms small and ill-shaped. the house never found a tenant, and some years after, when mr. w. e. gladstone sold his seaforth estate, it was pulled down. when mr. robert holt was lord mayor, in , mr. w. e. gladstone visited liverpool to receive the freedom of the city. he sent for me to the town hall, and said he understood i was the chairman of the overhead railway, and he wanted to know where we had placed our station at seaforth. i told him it was on the south side of the old rimrose brook, and gave him some further particulars. he at once replied, "i remember as a boy catching what we called 'snigs' in the rimrose brook, and from what you tell me your station is on the north side, and as a boy i played cricket in the adjoining field, from whence in the far, far distance we could see the smoke of liverpool." from enquiries i have made i find mr. gladstone's memory as to the position of the brook was more accurate than my own. it was a considerable stream and the cobble-paved highway of crosby road was carried over it by a high white stone bridge. before leaving the town hall mr. gladstone asked me if i knew seaforth house. on my saying yes, he replied, "what a mess my brother robertson made of it!"--alluding to the incident already mentioned. perhaps i may here interpose another recollection of liverpool's great son. when the late lord derby was lord mayor i was deputed to assist him when my services were required. one day he sent for me and showed me a letter he had received from mr. gladstone expressing his wish to address a liverpool town's meeting on the bulgarian atrocities. mr. gladstone, in a magazine article, had recently used strong language in reference to the sultan of turkey, calling him an assassin. lord derby considered it would not be proper for such language to be used at a town's meeting, but he added, "mr. gladstone was above everything a gentleman, and if he received his promise that he would avoid strong language he would be quite satisfied and would take the chair." mr. gladstone at once assented. the meeting was held in hengler's circus. it was crowded from floor to ceiling. mr. gladstone arrived with mrs. gladstone, and after a few introductory remarks by the lord mayor, mr. gladstone rose to speak. walking with the aid of a stick to the front of the platform, placing his stick upon the table, he clutched hold of the rails and "let himself go," and for an hour and a quarter he poured out a perfect torrent of eloquence which held the audience spellbound. it was a great oration, remarkable not so much for what he said, as for the marvellous restraint he was evidently exercising to avoid expressing himself in the forcible language which he considered the circumstances demanded. he was much exhausted after this great effort; mrs. gladstone had, however, some egg-flip ready, which seemed to revive him. this was mr. gladstone's last great speech; it was fitting it should be delivered in his native city. there was another house at seaforth which i must also mention, barkeley house, the residence of mr. smith, commonly known as "square-the-circle smith," from the fact of his claiming to have solved this problem. mr. smith was the father of mr. james barkeley smith, who for many years did good work in the city council. a sketch of the seaforth of those days would not be complete without a reference to rector rothwell of sefton, reputed to be one of the most beautiful readers in the church; he drove down to the shore in his yellow gig, winter and summer, and bathed in the sea. another grand old man was archdeacon jones, who succeeded his son as the incumbent of christ church, waterloo, and who died at the age of . i look back upon his memory with reverence, for he was a charming man; his presence was dignified, his features refined, almost classical, and he was endowed with a soft, silvery voice, and, both as a reader and preacher, he was greatly appreciated. i must mention a touching little incident. about two years before he died he broke his leg. i called with my wife to see him; before leaving he begged us to kneel down and he gave us his blessing, expressed in simple but beautiful language, and spoken with deep feelings of love and kindness. i must now revert to my story. the railway from waterloo to southport was opened in july, ; it was called the "shrimpers' line," and it was thought it would never pay, as there was apparently no traffic. i remember, as a small boy, seeing the first train start from waterloo; the occasion was a visit made by the directors to inspect the bridge over the river alt, and my father was one of the party. the train consisted of two first-class coaches, and it was drawn by three grey horses, driven by a man seated on the top of the first coach. some time after i saw the first locomotives brought from liverpool. the crosby road was good enough, but the roads leading from the main crosby road to waterloo were simply sandy lanes, and along these the heavy lorries, which carried the locomotives, had to be hauled. it was a work of great difficulty, as the wheels of the lorries sank up to their axles in the deep sand. the railway was opened from waterloo to southport for some years before it was extended to liverpool. to-day this line is probably the most profitable part of the lancashire and yorkshire system. in my father bought a house in edge lane, then a very charming and attractive suburb. after passing marmaduke street, edge hill, there were no houses in edge lane on the south side until rake lane was reached. here were the residences of sir john bent, mr. george holt, and others. the north side of edge lane, from the botanic gardens up to laurel road, was fringed with villas, surrounded by large gardens containing many fine trees, and the houses in this part were large and handsome; many of them still remain. among those who then resided in edge lane were james ryley, william holt, f. a. clint, simon crosfield, mr. lowndes, and dashper glynn. mr. heywood lived in edge lane hall, then considered a house of much importance, surrounded as it was by a pretty park. the principal events which dwell in my memory as having taken place at this time are the fancy fair held in the prince's park, in aid of our local charities, a very brilliant affair; and the opening of the great exhibition of in hyde park. it was a matter of grave consideration with my parents if i was of sufficient age to appreciate the exhibition, but in the end i was allowed to go to london; and i can only say, for the benefit of all youngsters of and years, that i greatly enjoyed that magnificent display, and it produced a lasting impression upon my mind. i recall at this day every detail. the wonderful show of machinery impressed me most, but the weaving of cloth and the various industrial processes were all of absorbing interest to my youthful mind, so much so that on one day i lost my party, and had to find my way back to our lodgings. fortunately, half-a-crown had been placed in my pocket for this contingency, and with the help of a friendly policeman i had no difficulty. the building of the church of st. john the divine, at fairfield, greatly interested me, and during my holidays i was taken up to the top of the tower to lay the first stone of the steeple. when the church was consecrated in , bishop graham, of chester, lunched at the "hollies," my father being the chairman of the building committee. after spending two years at a dame's school at kensington, i was sent to the upper school of the liverpool collegiate. i was placed in the preparatory school, under the rev. mr. hiley. from the preparatory school i proceeded to the sixth class. my career was by no means distinguished; four times a day i walked up and down from edge lane to school. my companions were tom and hugh glynn; they, like myself, made but little headway. dr. t. glynn is now one of the leaders of our medical profession, and a short time ago i asked him how it was that we as boys were so stupid. he replied that our walk of eight miles a day exhausted all our physical and mental energies, and we were left good for nothing; and i might add we had in those days little or no relaxation in the shape of games. there was a little cricket in the summer, but this was the only game ever played, so that our school-days were days of unrelieved mental and physical work, which entirely overtaxed our strength. the rev. j. s. howson, the principal of the collegiate, was very much beloved by the boys. i was a very small boy, but not too small for the principal to notice and address to him a few kindly words; in after life, when he became dean of chester, he did not forget me. his sympathy and love for boys and his power of entering into their feelings made him a very popular head-master. at the age of i was sent to dr. heldenmier's school at worksop, in nottinghamshire, where the pestalozzian system of education was carried on. it was a celebrated school; many liverpool boys were there with me, the muspratts, hornbys, langtons, etc., and though we worked hard we had plenty of relaxation in the workshop and the playing fields, besides long walks in the lovely parks that surround worksop, and which are known as the dukeries. during these walks we were encouraged to botanise, collect birds' eggs, etc., and the love of nature which was in this way inculcated has been one of the delights of my life. the noble owners of these parks were most kind to the boys. we were frequently invited to clumber, the residence of the duke of newcastle, who was minister of war. the crimean war was then being waged, and we considered the duke a very great person; and a few words of kindly approbation he spoke to me are among the sunny memories of my school days. the duke of portland, who was suffering from some painful malady, which caused him to hide himself from the world, was also always glad to see the boys, and to show us the great subterranean galleries he was constructing at welbeck; but our greatest delights were skating on the lake at clumber in winter, and our excursions to roch abbey and to sherwood forest in the summer. the delight of those days will never fade from my memory. we used to return loaded with treasures, birds' eggs, butterflies, fossils, and specimens of wild flowers. in the autumn sir thomas white always gave us a day's outing, beating up game for him; this we also greatly enjoyed; and how we devoured the bread and cheese and small beer which the keepers provided us for lunch! we were taken by the directors of the manchester, sheffield and lincolnshire railway to the opening of the new docks at grimsby. the directors had a special train which stopped to pick up the boys at worksop. charles dickens was of the party. on the return journey, i was in his carriage; he gave me a large cigar to smoke--the first, and the last cigar i ever smoked, for the effect was disastrous. my school days at worksop were happy days. we spent much time in studying the natural sciences; we became proficient in joinery and mechanics; and there was a nice gentlemanly tone in the school. my great friend was george pim, of brenanstown house, kingstown, ireland. we never lost sight of each other. he entered the office of leech, harrison and forwood, and became a partner with us in bombay, and afterwards in new york; he died there in , at the age of . a fine, handsome, bright fellow; to me he was more than a brother, and his like i shall never see again. the friend of my boyhood, of my young manhood, my constant companion; he was a good fellow. richard cobden's only son was at worksop, a bright, handsome boy. his father doted upon him, and often came down to visit him, when he took some of the boys out to dine with him at the "red lion"; he was a very pleasant, genial man, fond of suggesting practical jokes, which we played off on our schoolmates on our return to school. poor dick cobden was too full of animal spirits ever to settle down to serious school work. he had great talent, but no power of application. he died soon after leaving worksop. when at worksop i distinguished myself in mathematics, and my master was very anxious i should proceed to cambridge, but my father had other views, and thought a university training would spoil me for a business career. i have ever regretted it. every young man who shows any aptitude should have the opportunity of proceeding to a university, but in those days the number of university graduates was small, and the advantage of an advanced education was not generally recognised. life was more circumscribed and limited, and a level of education which suited our forefathers, and had made them prosperous men, was considered sufficient: more might be unsettling. the only thing to be aimed at and secured was the power and capacity to make a living; if other educational accomplishments followed, all well and good, but they were considered of very secondary importance. our home life was quiet and uninteresting, very happy in its way because we knew no other. our greatest dissipations were evening parties, with a round game of cards; dinner parties were rare, and balls events which came only very occasionally. sundays were sadly dull days; all newspapers were carefully put away, and as children we had to learn the collect and gospel. our only dissipation was a short walk in the afternoon. oh! those deadly dull sundays; how they come up before me in all their depressing surroundings; but religion was then a gloomy business. our parsons taught us sunday after sunday that god was a god of vengeance, wielding the most terrible punishment of everlasting fire, and only the few could be saved from his wrath. how all this is now happily changed! the god of my youth was endowed with all the attributes of awe-inspiring terror, which we to-day associate with the evil one. it is a wonder that people were as virtuous as they were: there was nothing to hope for, and men might reasonably have concluded to make the best of the present world, as heaven was impossible of attainment. in my own case, partaking of the holy communion was fraught, i was taught, with so much risk, that for years after i was confirmed i dare not partake of the sacrament. what a revolution in feeling and sentiment! how much brighter and more reasonable views now obtain! god is to us the god of love. we look around us and see that all nature proclaims his love, and the more fully we recognise that love is the governing principle of his universe, the nearer we realise and act up to the ideal of a christian life. love and sympathy have been brought back to the world, and we see their influence wrought out in the drawing together of the classes, in the wider and more generous distribution of the good things of life, and in the recognition that heaven is not so far from any of us. we see that as the tree falls so will it lie; that in this life we are moulding the life of our future, and that our heaven will be but the complement of our earthly life, made richer and fuller, freed from care and sin, and overarched by the eternal presence of god, whose love will permeate the whole eternal firmament. charles kingsley was one of the apostles of this new revelation, which brought hope back to the world, and filled all men with vigour to work under the encouragement which the god of love held out to us. it has broadened and deepened the channels of human sympathy and uplifted us to a higher level of life and duty. during my school days i spent several of my summer holidays in scotland with my mother, who was a patient of professor simpson in edinburgh, and usually resided two or three months in that city. one summer holiday i stayed with old john woods, at greenock. he was the father of shipbuilding on the clyde. he was then building a wooden steamer for my father to trade between lisbon and oporto. another summer holiday i spent with mr. cox, shipbuilder, of bideford, in devon, who was building the sailing ship "bucton castle," of , tons, for my father's firm. the knowledge of shipbuilding i obtained during these visits has been of incalculable value to me in after life. another of my summer vacations was occupied in obtaining signatures to a monster petition to the liverpool corporation praying them to buy the land surrounding the botanic gardens, and lay it out as a public park. i stood at the edge lane gate of the botanic gardens with my petition for several weeks, and i obtained so many signatures that the petition was heavier than two men could carry. i am glad to think it was successful, and the wavertree park has contributed greatly to the pleasure and enjoyment of the people of liverpool, and has been the means of preserving to us the botanic gardens. i think it was one of the most useful things i ever accomplished. chapter ii. voyage round the world. leaving school i entered the office of salisbury, turner and earle, one of the oldest and leading brokerage houses in the town. the partners were mr. alderman john h. turner (remarkable for the smallness of his stature), mr. horace turner, and mr. henry grey. my senior apprentice was the late colonel morrison. i had not been very long in this office when i contracted a very severe cold, the result of being out all night on ben lomond. i had gone up with my father and a party of friends to see the sunset; on the way down i lost my way, and finding myself with darkness coming on, in very boggy land, i sat down on a rock to await daylight. heavy rain fell and i was soaked through, which resulted in a cold that took such a strong hold of me that the doctor ordered me a sea voyage, and on the th november, , i set sail on board the clipper ship "red jacket," for melbourne. the gold fever was at its height, and the passenger trade with australia was very active. our ship was crowded with passengers; she was the crack clipper of the day, and carried a double crew, that she might be enabled to carry sail until the last moment. we had a very pleasant passage and beat the record, making port phillip heads in sixty-three days. i visited the gold fields at ballarat, making the journey from geelong by stage-coach, drawn by six horses, the roads being mere tracks cut through the bush. i descended several of the mines; at this time the alluvial deposits had been worked out, and most of the mines were being worked at a considerable depth. at melbourne i stayed with mr. strickland, at a charming villa on the banks of the yarra-yarra. leaving melbourne, i took a steamer for sydney, where my father had many business friends, and had a very good time yachting in the bay and riding up country. i managed to lose myself in the bush, and for a whole day was a solitary wanderer, not knowing where i was. it was a period of strange sensations and of much anxiety. eventually, late in the evening i came across a shepherd, who gave me the best of his simple fare and guided me to the nearest village. from australia i sailed in a small barque, the "queen of the avon," for valparaiso; she was only tons register, and i was the only passenger. the voyage across to valparaiso was eventful. we had bad weather throughout, and a heavy cyclone which did us great damage about the decks. we were hove to for two days with a tarpaulin in the mizzen rigging. we sailed right through the storm centre, where we had no wind, but a terrific and very confused sea, and here we saw hundreds of sea-birds of all kinds. at valparaiso we obtained a charter to load cocoa at guayaquil. we had a lovely cruise up the coast, and the sail up the river to guayaquil was heavenly; we had the panorama of the andes on our right, with the richly verdured island of puna on the other hand; flocks of flamingoes were wading in the shallow sea channels, and pelicans were busy fishing along the margins of the sandbanks. at guayaquil we had some good crocodile shooting, not the easiest game to bag. these reptiles had to be stalked in the most approved fashion; although they lay seemingly basking and asleep in the sun, with their great mouths wide open, their ears were very much on the alert, and it was most difficult to come within shot. we succeeded better from a boat than from the land, for by allowing the boat to drift with the tide we were able to get within easy shot without being heard. i visited bodegas and some of the indian villages at the foot of the andes. the whole country was very interesting, and very rich in tropical birds and flowers. there were too many snakes to make travelling quite comfortable, but in time we found they all did their best to get away from us, and we gained more confidence. i had a little adventure in guayaquil which might have been very unpleasant. there was a revolution, and the government troops had only just regained possession of the city; i had the misfortune to walk unwittingly through a barricade, which consisted of some half-dozen ragged black soldiers, who quite failed to suggest to me a military outpost. i was at once arrested and taken to the jail. here i remained for some hours surrounded by the most horrible looking ruffians, and was in mortal dread of the time when i should be locked up with them in one of the foul dens which led off the court-yard. i was fortunately set free through the kind intervention of an american who had been a witness of my capture and incarceration. at guayaquil we loaded a cargo of cocoa and sailed for falmouth for orders. we arrived off this port in november, , after an uneventful voyage of days. we tacked the ship off the manacle rocks, at the entrance to the harbour; the wind flew round to the east, and we were driven out again into the chops of the channel; it was twenty-four days before we again saw falmouth. we fought our way against a succession of easterly gales, sometimes driven out as far west as the fastnet. the fleet of ships kept out by the long continued easterly winds was very large, and the admiralty was obliged to dispatch relief ships with stores for their succour. no one who has not experienced an easterly gale in the channel can form any idea of the toil of a constant fight against a succession of heavy gales, cold and bleak with sleet and snow. sometimes the wind would decrease and we were able to make some headway, and perhaps work our way within sight of the scilly islands, raising our hopes of an early arrival at our port, then another gale would spring up and drive us back again to the west of ireland, and the same thing was repeated over and over again. the channel was full of ships detained by adverse gales, and the home markets were disorganised by the lack of supplies of raw produce. all this is now a thing of the past, steamers are independent of head winds, and winter easterly gales no longer strike terror into the hearts of shipowners and merchants. whilst on this voyage, to relieve the monotony of the daily routine of sea life, i taught myself navigation, took my trick at the wheel, and had my place aloft when reefing next to the weather earing, where i worked with an old man-of-war's man named amos. amos was a noble specimen of the old-fashioned british sailor. he was the king of the fo'castle, and while he was on hand no swearing or bad language was heard. the knowledge i then obtained of navigation and seamanship has been most valuable to me through life. it was a great opportunity, which i was wise enough to avail myself of. during the whole time i was on board this ship--nearly eight months--i never missed taking my trick at the wheel, or going aloft to reef. i well remember laying out on the fore yardarm, off cape horn, for two hours, while we got a close reef tied. we had to take up belaying pins to knock the frozen snow and ice off the sail before we could do anything, and the ship was labouring so heavily in the seaway that our task was most difficult. in navigation i became so proficient that i could work lunars with ease, and after the passage home of days without seeing land i placed the position of the ship within three miles of her true position, near the wolf rock, land's end, the old captain being ten to twelve miles out in his longitude. i remember feeling very proud of my good landfall. i told the old skipper that i thought we should see land at noon. he smiled and replied that we should not make it before three o'clock. i went aloft on to the fore yard-arm at one o'clock, and had not been there many minutes when i shouted "land ho!" i saw the sea breaking over the wolf rock. chapter iii. liverpool. liverpool occupies the unique position of having filled two important places in the history of england. there was, firstly, the little town clustered round about its castle, and holding a charter from king john dated , its estuary affording a safe haven for the trifling commerce passing between england and its sister island, ireland. thus situated it had to bear its part in the political movements and the foreign and civil wars which for long years harassed and distressed the country and checked its progress. although the six centuries which intervened between and are filled with many incidents which clothe this portion of the history of liverpool with much that is picturesque and romantic, at the close of the eighteenth century we still find liverpool a small if not insignificant place, with a population in of only , , while the tonnage of her shipping was only , tons. this may be said to close the history of "old" liverpool. with the dawn of the nineteenth century a new liverpool sprang into existence. the opening of the american trade, the peace of , and the introduction of steamships, gave an enormous impetus to the growth of the trade of the port and laid the foundations of that vast and world-wide commerce which has made the name of liverpool synonymous with the greatest achievements in commerce and in science. the building of the liverpool and manchester railway, the mother of railways, the docks, and the bridging of the atlantic by what is practically a steam ferry, will ever stand out as epoch making. thus in little over a hundred years liverpool has grown from a small town into a great city, the city of to-day. liverpool in - . my story must, however, begin with the 'sixties, when i commenced my business career. the growth of the city and its commerce has since been fully commensurate with the growth of the country. in the fifty years which have intervened the empire has doubled its area and population, and the united kingdom has trebled its trade. the population of liverpool, including the newly added areas, has during the same period increased from , to , , and the tonnage of our shipping from , , tons to nearly , , tons. she conducts one-third of the export trade and one-third of the import trade of the united kingdom, and she owns one-third of the shipping of the kingdom, and one-seventh of that of the world. it has been a privilege to have been engaged in the commerce of the port during this remarkable expansion, and to have been associated with the conduct of public affairs during this period of growth and development in the city. very much of this has been due to the enterprise and enlightenment of her own people. liverpool shipowners have been in the vanguard of steamship enterprise, which has contributed so greatly to her prosperity; her merchants have built up her great trade in cotton and grain, and her citizens have not been slow to promote every sanitary improvement which made for the health and well-being of her people. during the past fifty years the town has been re-sewered, the streets paved with an impervious pavement, and a new water supply has been introduced. the city has been encircled by a series of public parks and recreation grounds, baths and washhouses have been established, free libraries have been opened in the various suburban centres of population, cellar dwellings have been abolished, and rookeries in the shape of courts and tenement houses have been done away with, and in their place clean and comfortable working-men's cottages and flats have been substituted. the curse of drink has been effectively checked by the closing of twenty-five per cent. of the public-houses. to quote from professor ramsay muir's interesting _history of liverpool_: "thus, on all sides and in many further modes the city government has, during the last thirty years especially, undertaken a responsibility for the health and happiness of its citizens unlike anything that its whole previous history has shown, and if any full account were to be given of what the city as a whole now endeavours to do for its citizens much ought also to be said of the extraordinary active works of charity and religion which have been carried on during these years." the liverpool of to-day is a city very different from the liverpool of the 'sixties and 'seventies, indeed it is difficult to recognise them as being one and the same; the streets remain, but they are widened and improved, and their inferior and often squalid surroundings have disappeared; and if our modern architecture is not always of the best, our new buildings at least impart dignity and importance. shaw's brow, with its rows of inferior, dingy shops, a low public-house at the corner of each street, has given way to william brown street, adorned on one side by our museum, libraries, art gallery, and sessions house, and the other by st. george's hall and st. john's gardens. the rookeries which clustered round stanley street, and were occupied by dealers in old clothes and secondhand furniture, have been replaced by victoria street, which is margined by banks and public buildings. the terrible slums which surrounded the sailors' home and custom house, veritable dens of iniquity, have disappeared. [illustration: _drawn by william p. herdman._ north side of shaw's brow, now william brown street.] [illustration: _drawn by william p. herdman._ south side of shaw's brow, now william brown street.] the dirty ill-paved town is now the best paved and the best scavenged town in the united kingdom. with the growth of the town and the extension of tramways, residential liverpool has been pushed further out until it can get no further, and it is now finding its way into cheshire. no private dwelling-house of any importance has been erected on the liverpool side for many years. the charming suburb of aigburth has long since been destroyed, but the greatest change has taken place in the docks. the old docks have had to be remodelled to give sufficient depth of water and quay space for the larger vessels now employed, and special docks have had to be constructed for the atlantic steamship trade. in the 'sixties the prince's dock was filled with sailing ships trading to india and the west coast of south america. they discharged on the west side and loaded on the east side. it was quite a common thing for a sailing vessel to occupy four and five weeks loading her outward cargo. on the walls of the docks and on the rigging of the ships, posters were displayed notifying that the well-known clipper ship ----, a at lloyd's, would sail for calcutta or bombay, and giving the agent's name, etc. at the south end of the prince's dock was the george's basin, a tidal basin through which ships going into the prince's or george's dock entered. i remember seeing one of brocklebank's calcutta ships, the "martaban," enter this basin under sail; it was done very smartly, and the way in which the canvas was taken in and the sails clewed up and furled, was a lesson in seamanship. the george's dock was dedicated to schooners, mostly fruiterers from lisbon or the azores, and during the herring season fishing boats used to discharge in one corner, the fish girls going down planks to get on board to buy their fish. the mariners' church, an old hulk in which divine service was held every sunday, occupied another corner. the albert dock was filled with east indiamen discharging their cargoes of sugar, jute, and linseed, and tea clippers from china; they loaded their outward cargoes in the salthouse dock, which adjoined; further south again, the king's and queen's docks were occupied by small foreign vessels, trading to the continental ports. the old new york liners, sailing ships, loaded in the bramley moore dock; and the docks further north, the canada being the most northerly, were filled with steamers trading to the mediterranean, and the cunard and inman lines of steamers. to-day one may hunt from one end of the docks to the other without finding a dozen sailing ships larger than a schooner. with the exit of the sailing ship much of the romance has been taken out of the life of liverpool. it was a joy to walk round the docks and admire the smart rig and shipshape appearance of the old sailing vessel. the owner and captain, and, indeed, all connected with her, became attached to their ship and took a pride in all her doings. in those days the river mersey was a glorious sight with probably half a dozen or more indiamen lying to an anchor, being towed in or out, or sailing in under their own canvas. [illustration: photo by randles. mersey docks and harbour board offices.] the river mersey, at all times beautiful with its wonderful alternations of light and its brisk flowing waters, has never been so beautiful since the old sailing ship days, when at the top of high water the outward bound fleet proceeded to sea, and the entire river from the pier head to the rock light was filled with shipping of all sizes working their way out to sea, tacking and cross tacking, the clipper with her taut spars and snow-white canvas, and the small coaster with her tanned sails all went to make up a picture of wonderful colour and infinite beauty. the dock board. there is no branch of the public service of which liverpool people are more proud than the administration of the mersey docks and harbour board. the members of the board have always been recruited from our leading merchants, shipowners, and brokers, and they have been fortunate in selecting as their chairmen men of exceptional ability. i can recollect charles turner, m.p., robert rankin, william langton, ralph brocklebank, t. d. hornby, alfred holt, john brancker; and the board is to-day presided over by mr. robert gladstone, who worthily maintains the best traditions of his office. of late years the members have been elected without any contests, but it was not always so. in the 'seventies there were severe contests, which arose not upon questions of personal fitness, but were prompted by trade rivalries. it had become the fashion for the various trades to nominate members who would look after the particular interests of their trade. jealousy was aroused if one trade obtained larger representation than others. the interests of the steamship owners were opposed to those of the sailing-ship owner. the one wanted allotted berths to secure dispatch, the other quay space free and unappropriated. cotton men wanted special facilities for cotton, and the timber people yard space for the storage of timber and deals. each trade had its associations, and in addition there was a ratepayers' association, which sought to break up this system of trade delegation by electing independent men. the payment of £ in dock dues gave a vote. so faggot votes were easily and extensively manufactured. shipowners and merchants qualified every clerk in their employ. the nomination of members took place on the st january, and the election on the day following. the elections were hotly contested, but always in a gentlemanly way, and with much good humour. it required skill to fill up the voting papers so as to secure a majority for any particular candidate. among those who busied themselves over these elections i remember william johnston, robert coltart, worsley battersby, edmund taylor, arthur forwood, g. b. thomson, george cunliffe, and james barnes. the ratepayers' association accomplished much good by the election of some men of independence. my particular desire at this time was to try and induce the board to fund their debt. it was felt that such a large floating debt was not only cumbrous and inconvenient, but in times of financial stress, or with a cycle of years of bad trade, might be a source of danger. i urged the funding of the debt on the nomination days, and also through the press and chamber of commerce. it met with the strong opposition of the board, led by mr. brocklebank, but in course of time after the corporation had taken the lead, the dock board wisely funded a portion of their debt. the gradual increase of steamers, the passing of the sailing vessel, and the large share of the trade of the port being now conducted by "liners," have to a very large extent done away with trade rivalries; hence the little interest now taken in the dock board elections. the present generation scarcely know that the docks were up to administered by a committee of the corporation. in my young days liverpool people were very sore and angry at the action of parliament in foisting upon them the birkenhead docks. these docks had been constructed by a private company, and were insolvent and a hopeless failure. birkenhead had, however, powerful influence in parliament, and stoutly opposed any extension of the liverpool docks, contending that the birkenhead docks had not had fair play, and could accommodate the surplus trade of liverpool. in the end, in , liverpool was obliged to buy them for £ , , , and within a very few years had to expend upon them £ , , . this outlay has ever since been a serious burden upon liverpool. nor did the hostile action of parliament stop here. the town dues were taken from liverpool, and commuted for a payment of £ , , . the management of the dock estate was placed in the hands of the trustees, who are, except three, elected by the dock ratepayers. in olden time the dock board had an annual excursion to inspect the lightships, to which they invited the whole of the council. they were pleasant days, and it was supposed that the mayor for the coming year was selected on these occasions. these excursions contributed to a good feeling between the dock board and the corporation, which is so essential if we are to preserve the prosperity of the port. i sometimes think that our city fathers apparently forget that our docks and our commerce are the life-blood of liverpool. mr. john bramley moore's great work on the dock board was completed before my day, but he continued his interest in liverpool to the last, and was present at the opening of the north dock system in , where i saw him. he used to tell how indefatigably he worked to secure the extension of the docks in a northerly direction, how he asked lord derby to present the bootle shore to the dock board, urging that it would be greatly to the gain of the derby family. lord derby replied that it would be very difficult to convince him of that, and that he had already refused £ , for it. mr. bramley moore then offered if lord derby would transfer his foreshore rights the dock committee would raise all the back land by using it for the deposit of their spoil, which would, he thought, be an adequate compensation. the deal was closed on this basis, the dock committee secured two miles of river frontage, and the derby family the site of the most important part of bootle, and now forming one of the most valuable of their estates. one of the first docks constructed on this newly-acquired land was the bramley moore, so named after the chairman. no one can fail to acknowledge the enterprise and wisdom which have characterised the administration of the dock estate. municipal work follows the demand of the people, and seldom goes ahead of it; but the provision of docks must anticipate the demand likely to be experienced. in all this the dock board has acted with boldness and with prudence, under circumstances of much embarassment. the construction of the manchester ship canal presented a problem of considerable difficulty, but the dock board adopted the courageous but wise policy of looking to liverpool and liverpool trade only, and the facilities they have provided for the changed conditions of trade have done not a little to conserve the commerce of the port. the liverpool exchange. a great change has taken place in the liverpool exchange. in the early 'sixties the old exchange buildings were still in existence. the building which surrounded nelson's monument was classic in design, with high columns surmounted by ionic capitals and a heavy cornice. the newsroom was in the east wing, with windows overlooking on the one side exchange street east, and on the other the "flags." the room had two rows of lofty pillars supporting the ceiling; and there was ample room in the various bays not only for newspaper stands, but for chairs and tables, and it had very much more the appearance of a reading-room in a club than its elaborate, but less comfortable successor. on the western and northern side of the exchange were offices with warehouses overhead. the borough bridewell stood in high street, its site being now covered by brown's buildings, and the sessions house occupied part of the site upon which the newsroom now stands. in the 'sixties high 'change was in the afternoon between four and five o'clock, but much business was also transacted during the morning. no merchant or broker considered that he could commence the work of the day until he had read the news on the "pillars" in the newsroom. instead of the work on the exchange being done by clerks, it was transacted by the principals, who considered it only respectful to appear in a tall hat and frock coat. although in those days there may have been a little too much formality in dress, in these there is sadly too little, and with the disappearance of the tall hat and frock coat one has also to regret the abandonment of those courtly manners and that respectful consideration which gave a charm to commercial intercourse, and was not confined to the exchange and the office, but was reflected in the home and in private life. [illustration: _drawn by w. g. herdman._ liverpool exchange, .] merchant shipbrokers and general produce brokers transacted their business in the newsroom, while the cotton brokers, braving all weathers, were to be found on the "flags." the present newsroom was opened in , and shortly afterwards the mayor, mr. edward whitley, gave a ball in honour of prince arthur and the prince and princess christian, the ballroom in the town hall being connected with the newsroom by a long corridor constructed of wood. dancing took place in both rooms. upon several occasions after a heavy fall of snow, fights with snowballs were waged on the "flags," until, becoming serious, the police were obliged to interfere and put a stop to them. a playful seasonable exchange of snowballs degenerated into a combat with the rougher element which frequented the "flags." i still recall many of the habitués of the exchange from to , men who well represented the varied interests of the great port. while frock coats and tall hats were the rule, many still wore evening dress coats, and not a few white cravats. there was old miles barton, a picturesque figure, with his genial smile, and his hat drawn over his eyes; isaac cook, the quaker, in strictest of raiment; harold littledale, the friend of birkenhead, and the critic of the dock board; michael belcher, the opulent and prosperous cotton broker; the two macraes, the principal buyers of cotton for the trade; tom bold, the active tory political tactician, who in olden days knew the value of every freeman's vote; h. t. wilson, the founder of the white star line and the napoleon of the tory party; edmund thomson, the pioneer of steamers to the brazils, who, like most pioneers, was unsuccessful; john newall, the "king" of the cotton market, who had an enormous clientele of very wealthy men; c. k. prioleau, the representative of the confederate government, who was also the great blockade runner. mrs. prioleau was considered to be the most beautiful woman in liverpool. mr. prioleau built the house in abercromby square which the bishop now occupies as his palace. r. l. bolton, a very successful and bold operator in cotton, though in appearance the most shy and timid of men was another well-known figure; he rarely made his appearance until late in the day, being credited with a love of turning night into day. james cox, the opulent bachelor, doyen of the nitrate trade, held his court always well attended in one corner of the room. i well remember j. aspinall tobin, tall of stature, distinguished in appearance, fluent of speech, a welcome speaker on every tory platform; john donnison, famous for his little dinners and excellent port; sam gath, the tallest man on the exchange; joseph leather, the forceful partner in marriotts, a leading nonconformist, who built and lived at cleveley, allerton; maurice williams, the writer of a cotton circular, and a reputed oracle on cotton--he lived at allerton priory, afterwards bought and rebuilt by mr. john grant morris; thomas haigh, the courtly and stately chief of haigh and co., cotton brokers; edwin haigh, his son, and the most vivacious and talkative of men, popular with all; lloyd rayner and his brother edward, the largest brokers in general produce; s. bigland, plain and honest of speech; the two reynolds, skilled in sea island and egyptian cotton; john joynson and his brother moses; john bigham, portly and prosperous; and not far away, his son, john c. bigham, who was destined soon to leave the "room" and become the able queen's counsel, the learned president of the admiralty and divorce court, and afterwards a peer of the realm (lord mersey), and whose brilliant career was doubtless largely due to his early business training; studley martin, the active secretary to the cotton brokers' association, buzzing about like a busy bee, collecting opinions as to the amount of business doing in cotton; thos. bouch, the dignified representative of the old firm of waterhouse and sons; edgar musgrove, an ideal broker, ever present and ever active. nor must i forget the noble band of shipbrokers who collected the cargoes for ships loading outwards: robert ashley, louis mors, w. j. tomlinson, j. b. walmsley, john mcdiarmid, robert vining, dashper glynn, tom moss, g. warren, s. b. guion, all of whom, with many others, represented vigorous interests which in those days made the trade of liverpool. outside the exchange, but yet very necessary to the success of its business, were the lawyers and insurance brokers and average adjusters. amongst lawyers mr. bateson and mr. squarey enjoyed the largest commercial practice; r. n. dale was the leading underwriter; and mr. l. r. baily was not only very prominent as an average adjuster, but as an arbitrator he afterwards became one of the members for liverpool. in those days, before the establishment of the system of trade arbitrations, there was abundant employment for lawyers and professional arbitrators. a sketch of the liverpool cotton exchange would not be complete without a reference being made to the dealings of maurice ranger, and others, who in the 'seventies on several occasions tried to corner the market by buying "futures" for delivery in a given month, and then obtaining such a control of the spot market as would prevent the sellers fulfilling their contracts. mr. ranger's operations were on a gigantic scale, but there was always a "nigger on the fence." the unexpected happened, and i do not think he ever fully succeeded in these enterprises. he had many imitators, who were equally unsuccessful. mr. joseph b. morgan did a useful work for the cotton trade, by establishing the cotton bank to facilitate clearances in future contracts. the removal of the cotton exchange to the new premises has taken place since my active business days, and the whole course and methods of the trade have changed. commerce. in the 'sixties, sailing-ships filled the liverpool docks, and fully one-half of them flew the american flag. the great trades of liverpool were those carried on with america, australia, calcutta, and the west coast. the clipper ships belonging to james baines and co., and h. t. wilson and co., were renowned for their fast passages to melbourne, while the east india and west coast ships of james beazley and co., imrie and tomlinson, mcdiarmid and greenshields, and the brocklebanks were justly celebrated for their smartness and sea-going qualities. charles maciver ruled over the destinies of the cunard company, and this line then paid one-third of the liverpool dock dues. mr. maciver was a man of resolute purpose, and a power in liverpool; in the early volunteer days he raised a regiment of field artillery, , strong, which he commanded. many stories are told of his stern love of discipline. a captain of one of the mediterranean steamers asked his permission as a special favour to be allowed to take his wife a voyage with him. mr. maciver whilst granting the request, remarked that it was contrary to the regulations of the cunard company. the captain, upon proceeding to join his ship with his wife, to his surprise found another captain in command, and a letter from mr. maciver enclosing a return passenger ticket for himself and his wife. william inman was building up the fortunes of the inman line, and was the first to study and profit by the irish emigration trade. the bibbys and james moss and co. practically controlled the mediterranean trade. the "tramp" steamer was then unknown, and outside the main lines of steamers there were few vessels; but the allans were forcing their way to the front, and mr. ismay was establishing the white star line, which revolutionised atlantic travel. mr. alfred holt was doing pioneer work in the west india trade, with some small steamers with single engines. these he sold and went into the china trade, in which he has built up a great concern. the harrisons were sailing ship owners, but they had also a line of small steamers trading to charente. they afterwards started steamers to the brazils and to calcutta. looking back, they appear to have been most unsuitable vessels, but freights were high, and to messrs. t. and j. harrison belongs the credit of quickly finding out the most suitable steamer for long voyages, and always keeping their fleets well up to date. we must not forget to mention the merchants of liverpool, for in those days the business of a merchant was very different from that of to-day. he had to take long and far-sighted views, as there was no such thing as hedging or covering by a sale of futures; his business required enterprise and the exercise of care and good judgment. among our most active merchants we had t. and j. brocklebank; finlay, campbell and co.; baring brothers; brown, shipley and co.; malcolmson and co.; charles saunders; sandbach, tinne and co.; wm. moon and co.; ogilvy, gillanders and co.; t. and w. earle and co.; j. k. gilliat; j. h. schroeder and co.; rankin, gilmour and co., and others. in the 'sixties liverpool had two great trades. the entrepôt trade, the produce of the world, centred in liverpool, and was from thence distributed to the various ports on the continent. the opening of the suez canal, and the establishment of foreign lines of steamers, have largely destroyed this trade, and produce now finds its way direct to genoa, antwerp, and hamburg. the other great trade was in american produce. for this liverpool offered the largest and best market. this trade is unfortunately seriously threatened. the increase in the population of america is now making large demands upon her productions, and reducing the quantities available for export. liverpool was also a considerable manufacturing centre. it was the principal place for rice-milling and sugar-refining, while shipbuilding and the making of locomotives and marine engines contributed largely to her prosperity. one cannot review the past trade of liverpool and its present economic surroundings, without feeling some anxiety for the future. not only have the trades which so long made liverpool their headquarters been to some extent diverted, but the efforts of rival ports (in many cases railway ports or ports which have little or no concern as to the payment of interest on the money employed in their construction) are directed to the capture of our trade; in this they are still being actively assisted by the railway companies, who grant to them preferential rates of carriage. there can be little doubt that our merchants and shipowners will find new avenues for their enterprise, and new trades will take the place of those partially lost; but liverpool has in front of her a fight to obtain the just advantage of her geographical position, and it is a fight in which the city must bear its part. the city will also have to adopt a more enlightened policy, and encourage manufacturing industries. this can only be done by reductions in the city rates, and also in the charges for water. the loss would only be nominal; we should be recouped by an increased volume of trade, and by our people obtaining steady occupation instead of the present casual employment. the american war. the great war between the northern and southern states of america, which was waged from to , had a far-reaching influence upon liverpool. prior to this date american shipping filled our docks, and per cent. of our cotton imports were derived from the southern states. the election of lincoln as president of the united states, and the rejection of the democratic candidate precipitated a crisis which had been long pending. slavery was a southern institution, and although it was conducted in the most humane manner, and many of the worst features of the system were absent, the principle of slavery was abhorrent to a large section of the northern people, and the south feared that with the election of lincoln this section would become all-powerful. south carolina was the first state to assert her sovereign right to secede from the union. other states followed slowly and with hesitating steps, and by the end of the north and south were engaged in mortal combat. the southern states were ill equipped for the struggle, they had no war material and were dependent for clothing and many of the necessities of life upon the northern manufacturers. the policy of the north was, therefore, to establish a blockade of the south, both by land and by sea, which caused prices of many commodities to rapidly advance in the south, and cotton, their main export, to quickly decline in value. the english people sympathised with the south, as the weaker power, and also having been actively associated with them in trade. the arrest of the southern envoys mason and slidell upon the british mail steamer "trent," by the federal commander, did not improve the relationship between great britain and the government at washington, and created ill feeling against the north. under these circumstances liverpool merchants fitted out many costly expeditions to run the blockade and to carry arms and munitions of war into the southern ports. the _modus operandi_ was to send out a depot ship to nassau or bermuda and employ in connection with this swift steamers to run the blockade and bring back cargoes of cotton. the profits of the trade were great, but the risk was also very considerable. the trade at best was a very questionable one; it was justified on the ground that a blockade cannot be recognised unless effectual. the united states started with a blockading fleet of vessels, but at the end of the war they had vessels employed in this service. the blockade runner had to rely entirely upon her speed, as to fire a gun in her own defence would at once have constituted her a piratical vessel. the fastest steamers were bought and built for the purpose. they usually made the american coast many miles from the port and then under the cover of darkness they stole along the shore until they came to the blockading fleet, when they made a dash for the harbour. it was exciting work, and appealed to many adventurous spirits, and the prize if successful was great. i think all this had a demoralising influence upon liverpool's commercial life, and the intense spirit of speculation created by the cotton famine was also very injurious. fortunes were made and lost in a single day. prices of cotton, while peace and war hung in the balance, fluctuated violently, and when war was seen to be inevitable, they advanced with fearful rapidity. a shilling per lb. was soon reached. the mills went upon short time. by the summer of cotton was quoted at s d per lb. the speculative fever became universal; men made fortunes by a single deal. when the recoil came after the war most of these fortunes were lost again. legitimate trade had been sacrificed to speculation. mansions luxuriously furnished, picture galleries, horses, and carriages had to be sold, and in not a few instances, their owners, having lost both their legitimate business and their habits of industry, were reduced to penury and want, and were never able to recover themselves. the results of the war were far-reaching. the spirit of speculation was rampant for many years, with disastrous results; it was only when a system of weekly and bi-weekly settlements was introduced that speculation was brought within legitimate limits. a nemesis seemed to follow this violent outburst of speculation, and but few houses actively engaged in it survived very long. liverpool was also active in assisting the south to build and fit out vessels of war to prey upon american commerce. the "alabama" was built at birkenhead; she sailed away to a remote island and there took on board her armament. she and her sister ship, the "shenandoah," did immense damage to american shipping, for which england had in the end to pay, as by the geneva arbitration she was held responsible for allowing the "alabama" to be built and escape. american shipping has never recovered from this blow, but it is only fair to say that the cost of shipbuilding in america, by reason of her prohibitive tariffs, has mainly prevented her resuming her former position on the ocean. the southern bazaar. near the close of the war a huge bazaar was held in st. george's hall, in aid of the southern prisoners of war. it was designated the southern bazaar, and the stalls were called after the various states, and were presided over by the leading ladies of the town, assisted by many of the nobility and society people. it was a brilliant success, money was plentiful, and men and women vied with each other in scattering it about. upwards of £ , was realised in the three days. the volunteer movement. no account of the doings in liverpool in the 'sixties would be complete that did not describe the beginnings of the great volunteer movement, which was destined to occupy so much public attention, and to form such an important portion of our national defence. liverpool can certainly claim to have initiated the movement. mr. bousfield endeavoured to revive this branch of the service in . a few years later he formed a drill club, a very modest beginning, consisting of only men, wearing as their uniform a cap and shell jacket. captain bousfield endeavoured several times to obtain recognition by the government, but failed; and he had to encounter a considerable amount of chaff and ridicule. the public had but little sympathy with the young men who "played at being soldiers." captain bousfield was not discouraged, he loved soldiering and was an enthusiast, and his opportunity was soon to arrive. in the emperor napoleon iii. became very threatening in his words and ways, and it was apprehended that he might attempt to invade our shores. captain bousfield quickly obtained the support of the government for his volunteers, and the st lancashire volunteer regiment was formed. the movement made rapid headway, until we had enrolled in the country upwards of , men. colonel bousfield soon obtained the command of a battalion, and in was presented with a sword of honour and a purse of £ , . liverpool furnished her full quota of volunteers. colonel brown commanded a regiment of artillery: colonel tilney the th lancashire, a crack regiment; colonel maccorquodale the press guards; colonel bourne, with major melly and captain hornby (afterwards colonel h. h. hornby), the st lancashire artillery; colonel maciver commanded , of his own men; and among other active volunteers at this time we remember colonel steble, colonel macfie, colonel morrison, colonel clay, and many others. we had also a squadron of cavalry, called the liverpool light horse, captain stone in command. i joined the squadron in , and greatly fancied myself mounted on one of my father's carriage horses. we exercised in some fields behind prospect vale, fairfield. i remember the st lancashire being encamped on the sandhills between waterloo and blundellsands. it was the first time any volunteers had been under canvas, and the camp was visited by crowds of people. intellectual life. liverpool has been always too much absorbed in her commerce to take any prominent position in the world of literature and education, until recent years, when we have atoned in some degree for our remissness in the past, by the founding of our university. professor ramsay muir, in a recent speech, however, claims that we had a renaissance in liverpool in the early years of the th century, when a group of thinkers, scholars, and writers, finding its centre in william roscoe, gave to liverpool a position and a name in the literary world, and she became a real seat of literary activity. to that remarkable man, william roscoe, we owe the athenæum, the literary and philosophical society, and the roscoe collection of pictures now in the walker art gallery. this intellectual effort quickly lost its vitality, and for long years the literary and philosophical society, and the philomathic society, struggled alone to keep burning the light of higher culture and literary activity. elementary education was almost entirely in the hands of the church; middle class education depended upon the liverpool collegiate, the mechanic's institute, afterwards the liverpool institute, and the royal institution. the fashion of sending boys to our great public schools did not set in until the 'seventies. such was the condition of intellectual life when, in , the liverpool university college was established, mainly through the efforts of the late earl of derby, william rathbone, christopher bushell, e. k. muspratt, david jardine, sir edward lawrence, robert gladstone, mr. muspratt, sir john brunner, john rankin, and william johnston. the first principal, dr. rendall, rendered excellent service in these early struggling years, which were happily followed by still greater and even more successful efforts under vice-chancellor dale, resulting in the granting of a royal charter in , and the founding of a university. the earl of derby became chancellor, and dr. dale vice-chancellor. the university has been nobly and generously supported by liverpool men; indeed a reference to the calendar fills me with surprise that so much could have been accomplished within such a brief period. its work is making itself felt in the general uplifting of the level of education, while the presence in liverpool of such a distinguished body of professors has had considerable influence in giving a higher and more intellectual tone to society, and in opening up new avenues for thought and activity. we must not omit to record the excellent work done by the school board. when first established in , the election of members provoked much sectarian animosity, but in the course of time, through the exertions of mr. christopher bushell and mr. sam rathbone, this hindrance to its success was overcome, and the excellence of its organisation was generally recognised. its functions have, during the past few years, been transferred to the city council. one of the results of the school board was the founding of the council of education, which provided, in the shape of scholarships, the means by which boys could advance from the elementary school to the higher grade schools and the universities. mr. sam rathbone, mr. gilmour, and mr. bushell were very active in promoting this association. society in liverpool. society was much more exclusive forty or fifty years ago than it is to-day. the old liverpool families were looked up to with much respect. the american war considerably disturbed liverpool society, and brought to the front many new people. liverpool became more cosmopolitan and democratic, but there was no serious departure from the old-world courtesy of manner and decorum in dress until the 'eighties, when it gradually became fashionable to be less exacting in dress, and the customs of society grew less conventional. in the 'sixties people of wealth and position surrounded themselves with certain attributes of power and wealth, which gave to the populace some indication of their rank and their social status, and in manners they were reserved and dignified. their homes were in the country or in the fashionable suburbs of the city, and their importance was measured by the extent of their broad acres. a house in london, in which they dwelt for three or four months of the year, was the luxury only of the older families, or of those of great wealth; the fashion of having a flat in london, with a week-end cottage in the country, was not known--this has followed the more democratic tendencies of our times. the bringing of people together in our railway trains, in steamers, in hotel lounges, and foreign travel, have had a distinctly levelling influence. in the 'sixties some old county families still made their annual pilgrimage to visit their friends in the family coach, and the circle of their acquaintances was limited and exclusive. the family carriage with the rumble at the back was a dignified and well-turned-out equipage. the dress carriage, with powdered footmen, was commonly seen in hyde park, and was _de rigeur_ at court drawing rooms, then held in the afternoon; the array of carriages at these functions made a splendid show. motors may have the charm of convenience and speed, but can never replace the smart appearance of the well-turned-out carriage-and-pair. the 'sixties were the days of crinoline and poke bonnets, and although the wearing of crinoline was much ridiculed, ladies' dress in those days was much more becoming and graceful than many of our more recent fashions, and girls have never looked more fascinating than when they wore their pretty little bonnets; but perhaps i may be called old-fashioned; as we grow older our view points change. we had many old maids in those days--we have none now--and the old ladies with their hair worn in dainty curls surmounted by a lace cap were picturesque, and looked their part. the wellington rooms, which were opened in , were regarded as the centre of fashionable society. these rooms, which are only used five times in each year, are unique in their exquisite proportions and their charming adams' decorations unspoiled by the modern painter and decorator. the floor of the large ballroom is celebrated for its spring, being, it is stated, suspended by chains. admission to the rooms was carefully safeguarded, its members belonging almost exclusively to the families of position and standing. the balls were conducted on the strictest lines of propriety, carefully enforced by vigilant stewards, who would not admit of any rough dancing; and such a thing as kitchen lancers would not have been tolerated. six or seven balls were given each year. the first before christmas was often called the dirty-frock ball, as new frocks were reserved for the débutantes' ball, the first ball of the season. no supper was given, only very light and indifferent refreshments. the attendance gradually fell away, and it was felt that the time had arrived when something should be done to revive their interest. accordingly, about , during my presidency, the supper room was enlarged, electric light was introduced, and a supper with champagne provided, and in order to meet the extra expense the balls were cut down to five. these changes were very successful in increasing the attendance. there were great misgivings as to the introduction of the electric light, and its effect upon the complexions of the ladies. the old form of illumination by wax candles suffused a very soft light, but the candles were unreliable and often did damage to ladies' dresses. in the 'sixties the only out-door games played were cricket and croquet. one of the most striking developments of modern days is the time now devoted to games, especially to golf and lawn tennis. in the 'sixties the facilities for getting about were very limited. the public conveyances consisted of a few four-horse 'buses, which started from castle street. to-day the bicycle and the motor-car bridge over distances with rapidity and little fatigue, and make us familiar with the beauties of our country, which was in old days impossible, while the electric tram carries the working man to his game at football or to his cottage in the suburbs. all this is a great gain, adding new interests to life, and is also very conducive to health and happiness. the conditions of life during the past fifty years in every grade of society have greatly improved; they are brighter, healthier and happier. there has been a decrease in the consumption of alcohol, less intemperance, and a striking diminution in crime and pauperism. with an increase of over fifty per cent. in the population there is less crime. while the necessaries of life have not increased in cost, wages are from twenty-five to fifty per cent. higher, and the working classes no longer live in damp cellars or in dark courts and alleys, but have at their disposal cheerful, sanitary, and convenient homes. chapter iv. business life. on my return home from australia and south america i entered my father's office. it was noted for hard work and late hours. the principals seldom left for home before seven and eight in the evening, and on friday nights, when we wrote our cotton circular, and despatched our american mail, it was usually eleven o'clock before we were able to get away, and many of the juniors had to work all night. in those days everything was done by correspondence, and mail letters often ran to a great length, frequently ten and twelve pages; and unfortunately the principals wasted much of their time in the middle of the day. the morning's work always commenced with reading the letters aloud by the head clerk, and afterwards the principals gave instructions as to replies to be sent, and laid out the work for the day. in those times the business of a merchant's office was much more laborious, and the risks they ran were greater and longer than they are to-day, when we have the assistance of telegraphic communication with all the world. we often refer to the good old days, but they were days of much anxiety and hard work, and i doubt if the profits were as large; the risks were certainly much greater, and added to this there was a constant recurrence of panics. we had a money panic almost every ten years, , , , of the severity of which we to-day can form very little idea. it was not merely that the bank rate advanced to eight, nine, and even ten per cent., but it was impossible to get money at any price. bank bills were not discountable, and all kinds of produce became unsaleable. in addition to these great panics we had frequent small panics of a very alarming character. i well remember the panics of and ; the intense anxiety and the impossibility of converting either bills or produce into cash. the main cause of all these troubles was that the banks kept too small reserves, and the provisions of the bank charter act of sir robert peel were too rigid. the object of the act was to secure the convertibility of the bank note into gold, and it would no doubt have worked well had sufficient reserves been kept, but practically the only reserve of gold was in the bank of england, and this was frequently allowed to fall as low as five or six million in notes. all other institutions, both banks and discount houses, depended upon this reserve, and employed their entire resources, relying upon discounting with the bank of england in an emergency. this emergency arose about every ten years. the bank of england was unable to meet the demand--a panic took place, and the bank had to apply to the government to suspend the bank act, and allow it to issue bank notes in excess of the amount allowed by the act. all this took time, the suspense was terrible, and many banks and honest traders were cruelly ruined. immediately the act was suspended the panic disappeared as if by magic, and traders began to breathe freely again. happily far larger reserves are now held by all banks, and banking business is also conducted on more prudent lines, and trade generally is worked on a sounder basis; payment by bills is now the exception; margins and frequent settlements on our produce exchanges prevent undue speculation, and the system of arbitration now universal has put a stop to the constant litigation which was a frequent cause of contention and trouble and loss of valuable time. i was admitted a partner in my father's firm on the st january, . the previous year had been a very successful one. my brother arthur had visited america, and believing that war between the north and south was inevitable, had bought cotton very heavily, upon which the firm realised handsome profits. but it was at the expense of my father's health; the anxiety was too much for him, and this, coupled with my mother's death on the st august, , so prostrated him, that he was ordered to take a sea voyage, and it was arranged that i should accompany him. voyage in the "great eastern." on the th september, , we embarked on board the steamer "great eastern," for new york, the liverpool dock walls being lined with people to see the great ship start. she was far and away the largest vessel built up to that time, being feet long, feet beam, feet deep, with a tonnage of , ; she was propelled by two sets of engines, paddle and screw. it was a memorable voyage. three days out we encountered a heavy gale, which carried away our boats, then our paddle wheels. finally our rudder broke, and the huge ship fell helplessly into the trough of the sea. here we remained for three days, rolling so heavily that everything moveable broke adrift, the saloon was wrecked, and all the deck fittings broke loose. two swans and a cow were precipitated into the saloon through the broken skylights. the cables broke adrift, and swaying to and fro burst through the plating on one side of the ship. the captain lost all control of his crew, and the condition of things was rendered still more alarming by the men breaking into the storerooms and becoming intoxicated. some of the passengers were enrolled as guards; we wore a white handkerchief tied round our arms, and patrolled the ship in watches for so many hours each day. my father was badly cut in the face and head by being thrown into a mirror in the saloon, during a heavy lurch. i never knew a ship to roll so heavily, and her rolls to windward were not only remarkable but very dangerous, as the seas broke over her, shaking her from stem to stern, the noise reverberating through the vessel like thunder. we remained in this alarming condition three days, when chains were fixed to our rudder head and we were able with our screw-engines to get back to queenstown. my father returned home, not caring to venture to sea again, but i embarked on board the "city of washington," of the inman line, and after a sixteen-day passage arrived in new york. an amusing incident occurred during the height of the storm we experienced in the "great eastern." we were rolling heavily, the condition of the great ship was serious and much alarm was naturally felt. at this juncture a small brig appeared in sight under close-reefed sails. as she rode over the big seas like a bird without taking any water on board, we could not help contrasting her seaworthiness with the condition of our giant ship, which lay like a log at the mercy of the waves. the brig seeing our position bore down upon us and came within hailing distance. my father instructed captain walker, of the "great eastern," to enquire if she would stand by us, and to offer her master £ per day if he would do so, but no answer came. the little vessel sailed round us again and again, and the next time she came within hailing distance my father authorised captain walker to say he would charter the ship, or if necessary buy her, so anxious was he that she should not leave us. she continued to remain near us all day, and then the weather moderating she sailed away on her voyage. two years afterwards the captain of the brig called at the office, saying he had been told by a passenger that mr. forwood had offered him £ per day for standing by the "great eastern," and claiming £ , two days' charter money. i need not say he was not paid, but i think my father made him a present. arrested in new york in . on my arrival in new york i was arrested, searched, and confined in the metropolitan police station while communications passed with washington. on my demanding to be informed of the reason of my detention, the chief of police told me that an englishman had been hanged by president jackson for less than i had done; this was not very cheerful, and he added he expected orders to send me to fort lafayette--the place where political prisoners were detained--but he declined to give any reason. i was however released the following day, but kept under the surveillance of the police, which became so intolerable that i went to canada, and returned home through new brunswick to halifax. the journey from quebec over the frozen lake temiscuata, through fredericton to st. john's, was made on sleighs. i slept one night in the hut of a trapper, another at a log hut on a portage where i was detained for a day by a snowstorm. an amusing incident happened on this journey. at grand falls i was called upon by the mayor, who wished, he said, to show me some attention and prove his loyalty to the old country, as he understood i was an envoy going from the southern states to england. i told him he was mistaken, but he would not accept my denial, and insisted on driving me part of the way in his own magnificently appointed sleigh, and giving me a supper at a place called tobique. at halifax another incident befel me. the hotel in which i stayed was burnt down in the night. i escaped with my luggage, but none too soon, for the hotel was only a wooden erection and the fire very quickly destroyed it. on our arrival home at queenstown, we heard with great sorrow of the death of the prince albert, and of the probability of war between england and america, arising out of the "trent" affair. i received a communication from the war office, requesting me to send full notes of my journey across new brunswick, giving approximately the size of the villages and farm buildings i observed, as it was proposed to march , british troops up by this route to protect canada. the reason of my arrest in new york was, i learned, that the authorities believed that i was conveying despatches and money and intended to cross the military lines and enter the southern states. my father's firm being largely engaged in business with the south, there was some foundation for this impression. i should add that i received through secretary seward an expression of president lincoln's regret that i should have been subjected to arrest, and an intimation that if i visited washington he would be glad to see me, but i was then in canada and did not care to return to the united states. political feeling ran very high in new york. i was passing one afternoon the st. nicholas hotel, broadway, when i heard someone call out "sesesh" (which meant a southerner), and a man fell, shot down almost at my feet. leech, harrison and forwood. the business of the firm of leech, harrison and forwood was mainly that of commission merchants, and receiving cotton and other produce for sale on consignment. it was an old firm with the best of credit, and a good reputation. the business was large but very safe, and we never speculated. i was very proud of the old concern. the business was founded in by mr. leech, who took into partnership mr. james harrison, whom i remember as a cadaverous looking old gentleman with a wooden leg, and as he always wore a white cravat his nickname of "death's head and a mop stick" was not inappropriate. he retired about . shortly after i was admitted a partner my father's health became indifferent, and at his wish we bought him out of the firm and took over the business. we decided to also become steamship owners, and by arrangement with a firm in hartlepool we became the managing owners of several steamers, which we put into the west indian trade in opposition to mr. alfred holt. we had not been very long in the trade before the principal shippers, imrie and tomlinson and alex. duranty and co., also formed a line of steamers, and it seemed at the moment as if we must be crushed out of the trade, the opposition was so formidable; but with the dogged determination so characteristic of my brother arthur we persevered, and in the end forced both our competitors to join us. we then formed a large company, the west indian and pacific co., which was an amalgamation of the three concerns, my firm retaining the management. the business rapidly grew and separate offices had to be taken. for nine years my brother devoted his time to the management of the steamship company, leaving me to work our own business. it was a heavy responsibility for one so young. our capital was small, and our business in cotton and in making advances upon shipping property very active, but we were well supported by our bankers, leyland and bullins. i was a neighbour of mr. geo. arkle, the managing partner, and shall be ever grateful for the confidence he reposed in us. i remember his sending for me in , telling me that we were face to face with a panic, and as he wanted us to feel comfortable we must cheque upon the bank and take up all our acceptances against shipping property. the system of banking was then very much a matter of confidence. during the whole of my business career we never gave our bankers any security. mr. arkle perhaps carried this principle too far. i remember his refusing to open an account for a man who was introduced to my firm by highly respectable people in america, and who had brought with him a draft on barings for £ , as his capital, mr. arkle requiring that my brother and i should ask him to open the account as a guarantee to him that we were satisfied as to the man's character, to which he attached more value than to his capital. about the year we admitted my brother brittain into partnership. prior to this we opened a house in bombay, which was managed by my old school friend, g. f. pim, who was afterwards joined by my brother george. we retained the management of the west indian and pacific co. for nine years. the company had prospered under our care, the shares were at a premium, and the directors were willing to renew our agreement; but they wanted my brother arthur to promise to devote less of his time to politics; this he was unwilling to do, and so our connection ceased. it was an unfortunate thing for the firm, but luckily we sold out our shares at a substantial premium, and formed a new company, the atlas company, to run steamers between new york and the west indies, my brother still devoting his time to the atlas company's interests, and i attending to the general business. at this i worked very hard, from early morning to late in the evening, taking only a fortnight's holiday each year. the business of the firm prospered greatly. at first our principal business was receiving consignments of cotton, but these led to such large reclamations, which were seldom paid by the consignors, that we were on the alert to find some other way of working our cotton trade, and a visit i made to mobile to collect reclamations revealed to me a secret which for years gave us large profits. i stayed in mobile with a mr. maury, and found that he was the holder of a very large stock of cotton, against which he sold cotton for future delivery, which always commanded a substantial premium in new york. when the time for delivery came round, he tendered the cotton he had bought; in this way he made a certain and a handsome profit over and above the holding expenses. what was possible in new orleans was, i thought, possible in liverpool, and on my return home we commenced this cotton banking business. it was very profitable, and for some time we had it all to ourselves. when we started the atlas line in new york, we opened a house under the title of pim, forwood and co., mr. pim leaving bombay for new york, my brother george at the same time opening a house for us in new orleans. george pim died in , and my brother george moved from new orleans to new york. here he remained until , when he entered the liverpool firm, and my brother brittain took his place in new york; brittain retired in . looking back over my business career, it was a period of strenuous hard work, but of much happiness and great prosperity. it was always a matter of regret to us that we had not more of the active co-operation of my brother arthur, who was a man of singular ability and remarkable power of organisation. unfortunately for the firm, from a very early period in our partnership he devoted most of his time to politics, which led to his eventually becoming a member of the house of commons, and in a very short period secretary to the admiralty. in this office, which he held for six years, he did most excellent work. to use the words of the then first lord of the admiralty--lord george hamilton--he made it possible to build a ship of war in twelve months when it had previously taken four and five years. the fusion of the conservative and unionist parties prevented my brother's advance to cabinet rank. he was one of the ablest men i ever knew, but he had not the faculty of delegating his work; this and his overmastering determination to carry out everything to which he put his hand, entailed upon him an amount of personal work and thought which few men could have borne, and which in the end proved even more than he could support without loss of nervous power. i was his partner for twenty-five years and we never had a serious difference of any kind. he was a candidate for the representation of liverpool in parliament in , but was defeated by mr. samuel smith. he afterwards was elected member for the ormskirk division, which he represented at the time of his death in . he was made a privy councillor and afterwards created a baronet. liverpool owes much to him, for in every position which he filled, as chairman of the finance committee and of the health committee, and as a member of parliament, he did a great work for the city. in politics he was _facile princeps_, a born leader of men; he built up the conservative party in lancashire, and kept it together in face of many difficulties. it was impossible that a man with such a strong individuality and determination could avoid making some enemies. he always tried to reach his goal by the nearest road, even if in doing so he had to tread upon susceptibilities which might have been conciliated, but withal he was one of the ablest men liverpool has produced in recent years; he had at heart the good of his native city, and no sacrifice of time or thought was too much if he could only benefit liverpool or promote the welfare of the conservative party. his statue, erected by public subscription, stands in st. john's gardens, and each year on the anniversary of his death a wreath of laurels is placed at its foot by the constitutional association--"though dead, his spirit still lives." in i retired from business at the age of . i was tired with the fag and toil of twenty-five years' strenuous work, but it was a mistake to retire. the regular calls of one's own affairs are less trying than the irregular demands of public work. _punch's_ advice to those about to marry, "don't," is equally applicable to those about to retire from business. chapter v. public life. my public life began in , when i was years of age. i then joined the council of the liverpool chamber of commerce. in the following year ( ) i was elected the president of the liverpool philomathic society, a position i was very proud of. the society at that time possessed many excellent speakers; we had among others charles clark, john patterson, and james spence. during the year i was president, professor huxley came down and delivered his famous address on "protoplasm: or the beginnings of life," and this started a discussion upon the evolution of life, which has continued to this day. professor huxley was my guest at seaforth and was a very delightful man. we had also a visit from professor huggins, now the revered president of the royal society. he greatly charmed us with his spectroscope, which he had just invented. i had an observatory at the top of my house at seaforth, with a fair-sized astronomical telescope. the professor gave us some very interesting little lectures upon his discoveries of the composition of the various stars and planets. in november of the same year i was invited to offer myself as a candidate for the town council to represent pitt street ward, in succession to mr. s. r. graves, m.p. my opponent was mr. steel, whom i defeated, polling votes against his votes. i represented pitt street for nine years, and every election cost me £ . i do not know what became of the money, but pitt street was a very strange constituency. looking back it seems to me that the town council was composed of goliaths in those days, men of large minds, and that our debates were conducted with a staid decorum and order which have long since disappeared. william earle, j. j. stitt, charles turner, m.p., f. a. clint, edward whitley, j. r. jeffery, are names which come back to me as prodigies of eloquence. i remember venturing to make a modest speech shortly after i was elected, and one of the seniors touching me on the shoulder and saying, "young man, leave speaking to your elders"; but they did queer things in those good old days. many of the aldermen were rarely seen; they only put in an appearance on the th november to record their vote on the election of the mayor. i was early placed on a deputation to london. i think there were six or seven deputations in london at one time, each attended by a deputy town clerk. we stayed at the burlington hotel, and had seats provided for us in the theatre and opera, and carriages to drive in the parks. it was said that the bill at the burlington hotel, at the end of that parliamentary session, was "as thick as a family bible." chamber of commerce. in i was elected vice-president of the chamber of commerce, becoming the president in , and was also made a fellow of the royal statistical society of london. my work at the chamber was very pleasant and congenial, and together with the late mr. lamport, mr. philip rathbone, and mr. john patterson, we did a good deal in moulding the commercial legislation of that time, the merchant shipping bill and the bankruptcy bill being drafted by our commercial law committee. in the liverpool chamber of commerce was reconstituted, the old chamber having got into bad repute through becoming too political. the election of the president of the re-organised chamber was left to the vote of the three thousand subscribers to the exchange news room. eight names were submitted, and i was elected president for the second time. during the following three years excellent work was done by the chamber, it became very influential with the government and took rank as the first chamber in the country. we declined all invitations to be associated with other chambers, deeming that liverpool was sufficiently strong and powerful to stand alone, and in this i think we acted wisely. american chamber of commerce. the american chamber of commerce existed for the purpose of safeguarding the interests of the american trade, and was supported by dues levied on every bale of cotton imported into liverpool. in its day it did great and useful work, and accumulated quite a large capital, which it spent in giving very gorgeous banquets to the american ministers and distinguished strangers. i became president of this chamber in , and during my term of office we entertained general skenk, the new american minister, and others. joint committee on railway rates. in an attempt was made by the london and north-western railway to amalgamate with the lancashire and yorkshire railway. this aroused great indignation. liverpool was already suffering severely from the high railway charges levied upon her commerce, and it was feared that the proposed amalgamation would increase these charges. meetings were held, and in the end all the towns in lancashire and yorkshire were invited to join with liverpool in opposing the scheme in parliament. i was elected the chairman of this joint committee, and we inaugurated an active parliamentary campaign. we induced parliament to remit the bill to a joint committee of lords and commons. the bill was thrown out, and our suggestion that a railway tribunal to try cases of unfair charges should be formed was accepted, and is now known as the railway commission; but by a strange irony of fate, it has become too expensive to be used by the users of the railways, and is now mainly occupied in settling differences between railway companies themselves. the united cotton association. in there was some friction between the various cotton interests, brokers, and merchants, and an association--entitled "the united cotton association"--was formed to endeavour to bring all the branches of the trade together and to remodel the rules, and i was elected chairman. up to this time the brokers' association ruled the market, and as many brokers had become also merchants it was felt that some re-arrangement of the relative positions of brokers and merchants was necessary. the position of chairman was one of considerable delicacy, as a very unpleasant feeling had grown up between merchants and brokers, and there existed considerable friction; however, in the end we managed to compose these difficulties and to lay the foundation of the cotton association which now rules the trade. international cotton convention. an international cotton convention was held in liverpool, also in ; it was composed of delegates from all the cotton exchanges of america and those on the continent. i was appointed the president; our meetings extended over ten days and were interspersed with excursions and entertainments. the convention was productive of much advantage to the trade, in ensuring a better supervision of the packing, weighing and shipment of cotton from america, and i think the measures taken practically put an end to the system of false packing which had become so injurious to the cotton business. mayor of liverpool. in i was elected mayor of liverpool, an honour which i very greatly esteemed. it was an eventful year, for many distinguished strangers visited liverpool. general sir frederick roberts came as the hero of the hour after his wonderful march from cabul to candahar. he was entertained at a banquet, and an at home at the town hall, and he with lady roberts stayed with us for three days at blundellsands. among other visitors we entertained were lord lytton, then governor-general of india; and king kallikahua, the king of the sandwich islands. his majesty was very dignified, and accepted quite as a matter of course the royal salutes fired by the guard ship in the river as we passed by in the dock board tender. at the banquet in the evening i was warned by his equerry that i must try and prevent his majesty imbibing too freely. it was not an easy thing to do, but to the surprise of my guests i stopped the wine and ordered cigars; this had the desired effect. i believe this was the first time smoking was allowed at a town hall banquet. the king had with him a big box full of palais royal decorations which he showed me, but with which, fortunately, he did not offer to decorate me. visit of the prince and princess of wales. our heaviest function at the town hall was the reception and entertainment of the prince and princess of wales on the occasion of the opening of the new north docks. the prince and princess stayed with lord sefton at croxteth, and their children, the three princesses, stayed at knowsley, lord sefton's children having the measles. the day of the royal visit was lovely. we met the prince and princess at the city boundary, newsham park, proceeding thither in the mayor's carriage, drawn by four horses with postillions and out-riders. after presenting the princess with a bouquet we followed to the landing stage, where the royal party embarked on the river for the new docks. the course of the royal yacht was kept by our large atlantic liners, and by several battleships. the princess christened the new alexandra dock and then we adjourned to a lunch in one of the large sheds, and after lunch the prince and princess entered the mayor's carriage and drove to the town hall, where an address was presented to them. the fenians had been very active in liverpool, and during the evening at croxteth i was told by the aide-de-camp that the prince had received several threatening letters, to which his royal highness paid no attention, but he would be glad to know if every precaution had been taken for the prince's safety. although i was able to assure him that every precaution would be taken, this intimation made me feel anxious and i drove from croxteth to the police station in liverpool to consult with the superintendents as to what more could be done. we were compelled to drive the prince and princess for two miles through that portion of the town inhabited by the irish; we therefore decided to quicken the pace of the carriage procession, and to instruct the out-riders to ride close in to the wheels of the royal carriage. these precautions were however fortunately not necessary, for right along scotland road the prince and princess had the heartiest reception, and when we turned out of byrom street into dale street it was with a sense of relief that i turned to the prince and said, "sir, you have passed through the portion of liverpool in which , irish people reside." he replied, "i have not heard a 'boo' or a groan; it has been simply splendid." we had taken some trouble to obtain a very pretty jewelled bouquet-holder for the princess, and it was sent to the florist who was making the bouquet. in the morning he brought it to the adelphi hotel, broken in two. i showed it to admiral sir astley cooper, who was one of the suite. he said, "whatever you do, have it repaired." every shop was shut, the day being a general holiday. the boots at the hotel at last thought of a working plumber, and to his hands the repairs were entrusted. all he could do was to solder the handle to the bouquet-holder, and he did this in such a clumsy fashion that great "blobs" of solder protruded themselves all round; but it held together and the bouquet was duly presented by the mayoress. during the drive from the dock the princess, showing me the holder, exclaimed how lovely it was; alas! my eyes could only see the "blobs" of solder! at croxteth that evening, while the presents were being exhibited to the guests, the holder broke in two, and the story had to be told. the three young princesses were entertained all day at the town hall by my daughters. princess maud managed to evade the vigilant eyes of miss knollys, and unattended made her way into castle street amid the crowd. lord mayor. for six weeks in i again occupied the civic chair. in january of that year the lord mayor, mr. watson rutherford, was anxious to become a candidate for parliament, a vacancy having arisen in the west derby ward. as lord mayor he could not act as his own returning officer, and it became necessary that he should resign his office for a time. both political parties in the council were good enough to invite me to accept the position, and thus i became lord mayor for the brief period i have mentioned. mr. rutherford, on retiring, informed me that he had already spent all the allowance, and all he could offer me were a few cigars. the duration of my reign was too short to admit of much entertaining, but i welcomed the opportunity of showing hospitality to many of my old colleagues and friends. chapter vi. the fenian troubles. my year of office as mayor was made very anxious by the aggressive tactics of the fenian agitators. a bomb was placed at the side door of the town hall, and exploded, breaking in the door, destroying the ceiling and window of the mayor's dressing-room and doing considerable damage to the furniture. the bomb consisted of a piece of iron gas piping about inches in diameter and inches long, filled with explosives and iron nails. the miscreants, after lighting the fuse, ran away; but the town hall was watched by a double cordon of police; the first took up the chase, the second joined in, and the two men eventually jumped into a canal boat filled with manure, and were then secured. they were tried, and sentenced to fourteen years' penal servitude. they were two irish stokers, mere tools in the hands of an irish-american, who had planned the blowing up of all our public buildings, but managed to get away. an attempt was also made on the custom house, but failed. the home secretary, sir william harcourt, was much exercised by the position of things in liverpool, and telegraphed to me enquiring how many troops were available in liverpool. i replied fifty, of whom twenty-five were raw recruits. next morning the general in command at york called at the town hall, and stated that he had been instructed to send , infantry, and two squadrons of cavalry, and wished me to arrange for their accommodation. he startled me by adding, "i should like to send you a gatling gun; they are grand things for clearing the streets." i felt this was getting serious. i assured him that we did not apprehend any grave trouble, or disturbances, and if it was known that i had consented to a gatling gun being sent for the purpose he mentioned, i should make myself most unpopular, and that i hoped that the troops would be sent down gradually so as not to cause alarm. we arranged to place some of the troops at rupert lane, and some in volunteer drillsheds, but several hundred had to be quartered in the guard ship on the mersey. all this was carried out so quietly that no notice of it appeared in the newspapers. we were congratulating ourselves upon the success of our scheme, when i received a note from lord chief justice coleridge, then presiding at the assizes, requiring my presence at st. george's hall. i immediately obeyed the summons, and was ushered into the judge's private room. the chief justice at once stated that he was informed that a large number of troops had been brought into the town, without his sanction as the judge of assize. in vain i pleaded my ignorance that his lordship's permission was necessary, that the troops had not been requisitioned by me, but had been sent by orders of the home secretary. his lordship was much annoyed and said i ought to have known that a judge of assize was the queen's representative, and no troops could be moved during an assize without the judge's sanction. his anger was however short-lived; he came to dine with me at the town hall the same evening, and made a capital speech, as he always did, and the morning's episode was not again mentioned. things in liverpool continued very unsettled and anxious, and to add to the difficulty a strike began. we were obliged to show the troops; the cavalry paraded the line of docks for two or three days, producing an excellent effect. the home secretary was very anxious, and wrote to me long letters. the chief constable, major greig, was away ill, and this threw much responsibility upon the mayor. we were able to collect much information, which led to the arrest of many notable fenians, and we stopped the importation of several consignments of infernal machines. an amusing incident occurred in connection with one of these. we were informed that a consignment of thirty-one barrels of cement was coming from new york by a cunard steamer, each barrel containing an infernal machine. we placed a plain clothes officer in the cunard office to arrest whoever might claim the cement, which, however, no one did, and we took charge of the casks as they were landed. several casks were sent up to the police office and were there opened and the machines taken out. i was asked to go down to see the machines, and found them lying on a table in the detective office, several police officers being gathered round. i lifted the cover of one; a rolled spill of paper was inserted in the clock work; this i withdrew, and immediately the works started in motion, and with equal rapidity the police vanished from the room. i simply placed my hand on the works and stopped them, and invited the police to return. on unrolling the spill of paper i found it to be one of o'donovan rossa's billheads; he was at that time the leader of the fenian brotherhood in america. the machines were neatly made; on the top were the clock works, which could be regulated to explode at a given time the six dynamite cartridges enclosed in the chamber below. having taken all the machines out of the casks of cement, the difficulty arose what to do with them, and eventually we chartered a tug and threw them overboard in one of the sea channels. an amusing incident occurred showing how excited public feeling was at the time. i was sitting one morning at the table in the mayor's parlour in the town hall, when i heard a crash of broken glass, and a large, black, ugly-looking object fell on the floor opposite to me. i rang the bell and the hall porter came in; i said, "what is that?" "a bomb!" he exclaimed, and immediately darted out of the room, but he had no sooner done so than he returned with a policeman, who exclaimed, "don't be alarmed, sir, it's only an old pensioner's cork leg." a crowd had collected in the street outside, in the centre of which was the old pensioner, who was violently expostulating. on ordering the police to bring him inside, he said he was very sorry if he had done wrong, but he was so angry at the many holes in the street pavements, in which he caught his wooden leg, that he had adopted this rather alarming method of bringing his complaint under the notice of the mayor and the authorities. the cork leg, both in form and colour, much resembled a bomb made out of a gas pipe, of which we had seen several at the town hall. at the end of my year of office i received the thanks of the home secretary, sir william harcourt, for my assistance and, at his request, i pursued enquiries in america which had an important bearing in checking the fenian movement at that time. [illustration: liverpool town hall.] chapter vii. the town council. the council chamber in the town hall has of late years undergone many alterations. in my early experience it occupied only part of the present site, and at the eastern end we had a luncheon room. it was a shabby chamber, badly heated and ventilated; the mayor's chair was placed on a raised dais at the western end, and the members of the council sat at long mahogany tables running lengthwise. it was a comfortless room, and very cold in winter. the council met at eleven in the morning, adjourned for lunch at one o'clock, and usually completed its labours by four or five o'clock in the afternoon. but we had periods when party feeling ran high, and obstructive tactics were adopted. at such times we not infrequently sat until ten o'clock at night. most of these battles took place upon licensing questions in which the late mr. alex. balfour, mr. simpson, of landing stage fame, and mr. mcdougal took a leading part. it was the practice to deliver long and well considered speeches. some of these were excellent, many very dreary. the present conversational debates would not have been tolerated. we had some very able speakers, of whom i think the most powerful was mr. robertson gladstone, the elder brother of the late premier. he seldom spoke, but when he did he gave utterance to a perfect torrent of eloquence which seemed to bear everything before it. he was a remarkable man in many ways, very tall of stature, and broad in proportion, he wore a low-crowned hat and used to drive down in a small four-wheeled dogcart. he delighted to give any old woman a lift, and every saturday morning he visited the st. john's market, and took infinite pleasure in bargaining with the market folk. mr. j. j. stitt was also a very fluent and effective speaker, perhaps too much after the debating society style. mr. j. r. jeffery was a good speaker, so was mr. william earle. one of the most useful men in the council was mr. weightman, who had been the surveyor to the corporation, and became a most efficient chairman of the finance committee. one of the most laborious members was mr. charles bowring, the father of sir william bowring, bart. mr. bowring was for years chairman of the health committee. he had a big and difficult work to do, but he did it well, and was always courteous and considerate. mr. beloe was at that time chairman of the water committee, and was largely responsible for the rivington water scheme. i think mr. sam rathbone was one of the most cultured and able men we ever had in the council. he spoke with knowledge and much elegance, and everything he said was refined and elevating. mr. john yates--"honest john yates"--was a frequent speaker, and always with effect. mr. barkeley smith was our best and most ready debater, mr. clarke aspinall our most humorous speaker. the first important debate which took place in the council after i entered it was on the proposal to purchase land from lord sefton for the purpose of making sefton park. it was a prolonged discussion and the decision arrived at shows that the council in those days was long sighted and able to take large views and do big things. not only was power taken to purchase land for sefton park but also to make newsham and stanley parks, costing in all £ , ; and this movement to provide open spaces has continued to this day, and has been supplemented by private munificence, until liverpool is surrounded by a belt of parks and open spaces containing upwards of , acres, and in addition many churchyards have been turned into gardens, and small greens have been provided in various parts. i have often been asked if the work of the city was as well done with a council of as it is now with a council of . i think the smaller council took a more personal interest in the work. the committees were smaller and better attended, and the council more thoroughly discussed the subjects brought before them. with the larger council and larger committees more work and more responsibility falls upon the chairman and the permanent officials. i fear the larger and more democratic council scarcely appreciates this fact, also they fail to see that if you want good permanent officials you must pay them adequately. we have fortunately to-day an excellent staff who do their work well with a full sense of their responsibility. one peculiarity of the larger council is the time given to the discussion of small matters, and the little consideration given to large questions of policy and finance. this i attribute to the fact that the council contains many representatives who have not been accustomed to deal with large affairs, and who refrain from discussing what they do not fully understand. in this respect i think the present council shows to some disadvantage. an immense work has been done municipally during this period in re-modelling and re-making liverpool. in the 'sixties the streets of liverpool were narrow and irregular, the paving and scavenging work was imperfectly done, the system of sewerage was antiquated, and the homes in which her working people had to live were squalid and insanitary; cellar dwellings were very general. to change all this demanded a great effort and a large expenditure of money, but in the 'seventies and 'eighties we had men in the council capable of taking large views. although the improvement of liverpool has been so remarkable, it is difficult to say to whom it is mainly due; there have been so many active public-spirited men who have given the best of their time and thought to the promotion of municipal undertakings. liverpool has been fortunate in possessing so many sons who have taken an active interest in her welfare, and have done their work quietly and unobtrusively. the re-making of liverpool has been accomplished in the quiet deliberation of the committee room, and not in the council chamber. the town hall--its hospitality. the hospitalities of the town hall were in my early years limited to dinners, and most of these took place in the small dining room, which will only accommodate about forty guests. when the fleet visited liverpool the mayor gave a ball, but these occasions were rare. to dowager lady forwood, who was mayoress in , the credit belongs of introducing the afternoon receptions, which have proved so great an attraction. the town hall and its suite of reception rooms are unique, and although built over years ago, are sufficiently commodious for the social requirements of to-day. the late king, when prince of wales, on his visit to liverpool in , remarked to me that next to those in the winter palace in st. petersburg he considered them the best proportioned rooms in europe. the lord mayor receives an allowance of £ , , and is in addition provided with carriages and horses. in olden time this allowance was ample, but it is no longer so, and it is impossible to maintain the old traditional hospitality of the town hall unless the lord mayor expends a further £ , out of his own pocket, and many lord mayors have considerably exceeded this sum. it has often been urged that the allowance should be increased. i doubt if this is desirable. the invitations to town hall functions might be more strictly limited to representative people, or the entertainments might, as in manchester, be placed in the hands of a committee, but it must not be forgotten that more is expected of the lord mayor in liverpool than in other places. he is not only the head of the municipality, but of all charitable and philanthropic work. the initiation of every undertaking, national as well as local, emanates from the town hall. all this throws upon the lord mayor duties which directly and indirectly involve the dispensing of hospitality, and i do not think the citizens would wish it should be otherwise. although mr. alderman livingston was always supposed to have a candidate ready for the office of mayor, and loved to be known as the "mayor maker," the finding of a candidate for the office has not been always easy. i remember in we had some difficulty. the caucus decided to invite mr. alderman dover to accept the office. i was deputed to obtain mr. dover's consent. i found him at the angel hotel smoking a long churchwarden clay pipe; when i told him my mission he smiled and replied that his acceptance was impossible, and one of the reasons he gave was that if his wife once got into the gilded coach she would never get out of it again. however, after much persuasion he accepted the office, and made a very good and a very original mayor. in those days we had a series of recognised toasts at all the town hall banquets: "_the queen_," "_the prince and princess of wales, and the other members of the royal family_," "_the bishop and clergy, and ministers of other denominations_," "_the army and navy and auxiliary forces_," and very frequently "_the good old town and the trade thereof_." this was a very serious list, as it involved two or three speakers being called upon to reply for the church and the army. mr. dover prepared three speeches for each toast, which he carefully wrote out and gave to the butler, with instructions to take a careful note of those present, and to hand him the speech which he considered had not been heard before by his guests. so the butler, after casting his eye over the tables, would hand a manuscript to the mayor, saying "i think, your worship, no. , 'royal family,' will do this evening." at the close of his mayoralty he offered to sell his speeches to his successor, and he handed to the charities a cheque for £ , which he had saved out of his allowance as mayor. work in the city council. on entering the council in i was placed upon the watch committee, and remained on that committee for fifteen years. the work was of a very routine character; we had, however, an excellent chairman in mr. f. a. clint, and i have never forgotten the lessons i received from him in the management of a committee, and how to get the proceedings of a committee passed by the council. "never start a hare" was his motto, "you never know how it will run, and the amount of discussion it may provoke." another lesson which he taught me was always to take the council into your confidence. "tell them everything, and if you make a mistake own up to it;" and there can be no doubt that there is great wisdom in adopting this course. deliberative assemblies are naturally critical and suspicious: but treat them with confidence and they will return it; once deceive them, or keep back what they are entitled to know, and your task thereafter becomes very difficult. mr. alderman livingston was the deputy-chairman, and was quite a character in his way. in personal appearance he resembled mr. pickwick, and his ways were essentially pickwickian. in the selection of mayors he was always very much in evidence, and he was before everything a tory of tories. politics were his delight, and even when quite an old man he did not shirk attending the november ward meetings, where his oracular and often amusing speeches were greatly enjoyed by the electors. at one period during the agitation against licensees of public-houses, the watch committee was composed of all the members of the council with mr. s. b. guion as chairman; and the committee met in the council chamber, but a committee of this size was too unwieldy for administrative business, and the arrangement did not last long. the burning of the landing stage. the original george's landing stage was replaced by a new one in , and this was connected with the floating bridge and the prince's stage, the whole forming one floating stage, , feet in length. on the th july, a few days after the completion of this work, i was attending the watch committee when word reached us that the landing stage was on fire. we could scarcely believe the report, as it was about the last thing we thought likely to be burnt. we hurried down to find the report only too true; huge volumes of dense black smoke enveloped all the approaches. the fire, commencing at the foot of the northern bridge leading to the george's stage, spread with great rapidity. the fire engines were brought on the stage and immense volumes of water were poured upon the burning deck, but the woodwork was so heavily impregnated with tar that the flames were irresistible. we worked all afternoon and all night, and in the end only succeeded in saving the centre of the stage at the foot of the floating bridge, for a length of about feet. and this was only done by cutting a wide gap at either end, over which the fire could not leap. it was very arduous, trying work, as the fumes from the tar and creosoted timber were very nauseating. the portion salved was very valuable in preserving a place for the birkenhead boats. the other ferries had to land and embark their passengers from temporary platforms and the adjacent dock walls. the water committee. in the 'seventies i joined the water committee, at a time when further supplies of water for liverpool had become a pressing necessity. we had opened the beloe "dry dock" at rivington (so called because many people believed when this reservoir was being made it would never be filled), and it was felt that no further supply could be obtained from this source; nor could we rely upon any further local supply from the red sandstone, although mr. alderman bennett made long speeches in his endeavour to prove that the supply from the red sandstone was far from being exhausted. [illustration: laying the foundation stone, vyrnwy dam, by the earl of powis, .] when it was decided to seek for a new watershed our attention was first directed to the moors round about bleasdale, some ten miles north of preston, but the prospective supply was not sufficiently large. we then turned our attention to hawes water, in cumberland, the property of lord lonsdale, and appointed a deputation to inspect this lake. we dined and stayed all night at lowther castle, and drove to the lake next morning. we came away much impressed with the quality of the water and the cleanness of the watershed, as there were no peat mosses or boggy lands to discolour the water. mr. deacon, our young water engineer, had however a more ambitious scheme in view; he proposed to impound the head waters of the severn in the valley of the vyrnwy. the battle of the watersheds, hawes water _versus_ the vyrnwy, was waged furiously for several years. the committee made many visits to the vyrnwy, taking up its abode at the eynant shooting lodge, a very picturesque spot (now submerged) standing at the western end of the lake. mr. wilson and mr. anthony bower, the chairman and deputy-chairman of the committee, were strongly in favour of the vyrnwy scheme. alderman bennett continued to be the persistent advocate of obtaining additional supplies from the wells, and his opposition to every other scheme was only set at rest by the council authorising mather and platt to put a bore-hole down at bootle at a point which he selected; with the result that no water was found. during all this period mr. j. h. wilson had a very arduous task, demanding great patience and endurance, and to him and to mr. deacon belong the credit of ultimately securing the adoption of the vyrnwy scheme. i led the section of the committee in favour of the hawes water scheme. there was no question as to the vyrnwy yielding an abundant supply, but the opposition contended that it was brown peaty water, and would remain brownish after being treated by filtration, and the cost would greatly exceed that of hawes water. i spent days on the moors at vyrnwy collecting samples of water. my samples were brown and bad; the samples collected by mr. deacon, on the contrary, were clear and translucent. the committee were divided as to the relative merits of the two schemes, and the council were equally divided. when the question came for the ultimate decision of the council the debate lasted two days, and i spoke for one hour and a half. we thought the hawes water scheme was winning, when the mayor, mr. thomas royden, rose and spoke for half an hour all in favour of the vyrnwy. his speech turned many waverers, and the council voted in favour of the vyrnwy by a small majority of three. it was a great debate, perhaps the most important we have had in the council, certainly in my time. mr. royden (now sir thomas royden, bart.) was an effective speaker, both in the council and on the platform; his voice and his genial smile were a valuable asset of the conservative party. i was greatly assisted in drawing up a pamphlet in favour of hawes water, and in conducting the opposition, by the town clerk, mr. joseph rayner. mr. rayner was an exceedingly able man, but unfortunately died comparatively young. it fell to my lot, as mayor in , to take the council to lay the foundation stone of the great vyrnwy dam. it was on a very hot day in july; the stone was laid by the earl of powis, who made a very eloquent and poetical address, comparing the vyrnwy with the fountain of arethusa which would spring up and fructify the valley, and convey untold blessings to the great community in the far-off city of liverpool. the building of the dam, and the laying out of the banks of the lake, called for many charming visits to the vyrnwy; and although i was not in favour of the adoption of this scheme i now believe on the whole the council did the wisest thing, as there can be no question of the abundance of the supplies secured by the city. parliamentary committee. for twelve years i was chairman of this committee, and had much interesting work to carry through parliament. the widening of st. nicholas' place and the throwing of part of st. nicholas' churchyard into the street was a great improvement, relieving the congestion of traffic at this point. we also endeavoured, during my term of office, to extend the boundaries of the city. we had a fierce fight in the house of commons. the local boards of the districts we intended to absorb assailed us with a perfect torrent of abuse, and criticised severely our system of local government. we failed to carry our bill, the chairman of the committee remarking that parliament would not grant any extension of city boundaries when it was objected to by the districts to be absorbed; but he added, "we are quite satisfied from the evidence you have given that liverpool is excellently governed in every department." we made a mistake in pushing forward this bill on "merits" only, we should have done some missionary work beforehand, and arranged terms and conditions with our neighbours. my successor in the chair of this committee, sir thomas hughes, profited by our experience, and succeeded where we failed. we were greatly assisted in our parliamentary work by mr. harcourt e. clare, who was most able and diplomatic, and an excellent negotiator. his appointment as clerk of the county council, though a gain to the county, was a serious loss to liverpool. manchester ship canal. with the attitude of liverpool in regard to the construction of the manchester ship canal i was very prominently identified. i had to conduct the opposition to the canal bill through three sessions of parliament, six enquiries in all. the dock board took the labouring oar, but it fell to me to work up the commercial case, to prove from a commercial point of view that the canal was not wanted, and would never pay. i prepared a great mass of figures, and was under examination during the six enquiries altogether about thirty hours. mr. pember, q.c., who led the case for the promoters, paid me the compliment of saying i was the only witness he had ever had who had compelled him to get up early in the morning to prepare his cross-examination. we defeated the bill in the first two enquiries. at the close of the second enquiry mr. lyster, the engineer to the mersey docks and harbour board, completely gave the dock board case away. mr. pember remarked: "mr. lyster, you have told us that if we make our canal through the centre of the estuary of the mersey we shall cause the estuary to silt up and destroy the bar. what would you do if you had to make a canal to manchester?" mr. lyster jumped at the bait, and replied, "i should enter at eastham and carry the canal along the shore until i reached runcorn, and then i would strike inland." next year the manchester corporation brought in a new bill carrying out mr. lyster's suggestion, and as liverpool had no answer they succeeded in getting their bill. there can be no doubt that the railways had for long years greatly overcharged their liverpool traffic. the rate of s d per ton for manchester goods for the thirty-two miles' carriage from manchester to liverpool was a gross overcharge. i had headed deputation after deputation to the london and north-western railway to represent this; mr. moon (afterwards sir richard moon) always received us with much civility, but nothing was done. the dock board had the remedy in their own hands; they could have bought the bridgewater canal, and made a competitive route; but the prosperity of liverpool was great, and they altogether failed to see that manchester, with its ship canal, might one day be a serious competitor to liverpool. the promoters of the ship canal secured an option over the bridgewater canal, and this was really the backbone of their scheme. at the close of the first parliamentary enquiry, when the canal bill was thrown out, mr. wakefield cropper, the chairman of the bridgewater canal, came to me and said, "the option given to the ship canal people has expired; can you not persuade the dock board to buy up the bridgewater canal, and this will put an end to the ship canal project?" i walked across the green park with mr. t. d. hornby, the chairman of the dock board, and mr. squarey, the solicitor, and told them of this conversation, and they both agreed with me that the dock board ought to make the purchase, but, unfortunately, nothing was done. in the following year the ship canal bill was again thrown out, and mr. cropper again urged that we should secure the bridgewater canal. i called at the liverpool dock office in london and saw mr. hornby and mr. squarey; they both agreed that the purchase of the bridgewater canal ought to be made, but again no step was taken, and the ship canal made their third application to parliament, and succeeded. i have always felt that the dock board thus missed a great opportunity, which in years to come may prove to have been the golden chance of securing the prosperity of the port. corporation leaseholds. one of the most important enquiries in which i engaged was into our system of fines on renewals of the leases of the property belonging to the corporation. the corporation owns a very large estate within the city. the first important purchase was made by the corporation in , when a lease for , years was obtained from sir caryl molyneux, of the liverpool heath, which bounded the then town of liverpool on its eastern side. this land had been sold on seventy-five years' leases, and as the leases ran out the lessees had the option of renewal on the payment of a fine; and in order to encourage the frequent renewal of these leases the fines during the first twenty years of a lease were made very light. it has been the practice of the corporation to use the fines received as income in the year in which they are received. the fines received in the fifty years, to , amounted to £ , , . this system of finance is radically wrong. the fines ought to be invested in annuities, and if this had been done these fines would now have returned an income of £ , per annum, and would have gone on increasing. the committee, of which i was the chairman, held a prolonged enquiry, and examined many experts and actuaries, and our report is to-day the standard authority on the leasehold question. our conclusions and recommendations are as sound to-day as they were then, but unfortunately the council declined to accept or adopt them, and we still pursue the economically bad system of spending in the first year the fine which should be spread over the term of the lease. when i retired from the library, museum, and arts committee in , i was invited to take the chair of the estate committee, and found myself again face to face with the leasehold question. the revenue of the corporation from fines on renewal of leases had fallen off to so alarming an extent that something had to be done to stop the shrinkage in revenue and restore the capital value of the estate. we had for so long used the fines as income that the position was a difficult one, and one only to be surmounted by a self-denying policy of accumulating a large portion of the assured income from fines for at least twenty-five years and encouraging leaseholders to extend their leases from seventy-five to ninety-nine years. chapter viii. library, museum, and arts committee. liverpool can justly lay claim to be the pioneer of free public libraries. william ewart, one of the members for the borough, succeeded in in passing through parliament the public libraries act. but before this act had become law, a subscription had been raised in liverpool for the purpose of starting a library, and a temporary library was opened in duke street. this was afterwards transferred to the corporation, and was the beginning of the great library movement in liverpool. the council encouraged by this obtained a special act empowering them to establish not only a library, but a public library, museum, and art gallery--thus from the earliest days these three institutions have been linked together. sir william brown provided the funds for erection of the library and museum in william brown street. in the thirteenth earl of derby presented to the town his fine collection of natural history specimens; in mr. joseph mayer gave his collection of historical and archæological objects, and in mr. a. b. walker completed this remarkable group of institutions by building the walker art gallery. liverpool has thus been most fortunate in possessing a public library, a museum, and an art gallery, which have cost the ratepayers nothing. it would be difficult to find a more unique cluster of institutions, each so perfectly adapted to its work, and all furnished with collections which have not only a local but a european reputation. [illustration: liverpool free library and museum.] i was placed upon the library and museum committee on entering the council, mr. picton, afterwards sir james picton, being the chairman. the committee met at nine o'clock in the morning, and seldom rose before twelve. i could not afford so much time, and therefore resigned, but when master of my own time i joined the committee again, and found the work very interesting. sir james picton had an extensive knowledge of books, and he is entitled to the credit of building up our splendid reference library, and of making the excellent collection of books on architecture which it contains, but he had little sympathy with lending libraries, and when he died the three branch lending libraries were very indifferent and poor, which was the more extraordinary bearing in mind that the act of parliament instituting free libraries was promoted by liverpool, and although liverpool was not the first town to take advantage of it, she was only six weeks behind manchester in adopting it. sir james picton, the historian of liverpool, was endowed with an excellent memory, and his mind was a storehouse of knowledge. he took an active part in the various literary societies, and was for many years one of our leading and most enlightened citizens. after his death the chair of the library committee was occupied for three years by mr. samuelson, and in i was elected his successor, and held this chair for nineteen years. there is no public position in liverpool more full of interest and with such wide possibilities for good as the chairmanship of the library committee. i very early decided that the right, and, indeed, only policy to pursue was to make the institutions placed under my care as democratic and as widely useful as possible, and this could best be done by breaking down all the barriers erected by red tape and by trusting the people; and, further, extending the system of branch libraries and reading rooms. in carrying out this work i always enjoyed the sympathy and active co-operation of my committee, and had the valuable assistance of mr. cowell, the chief librarian, and his staff. the acceptance of the guarantee of one ratepayer instead of two for the respectability of a reader has been a very popular reform, and the introduction of open bookshelves, containing the most recent and popular books of the day, has been greatly appreciated, and i am glad to say the books we have lost have been very few. branch lending libraries were opened at the central library, everton, windsor street, sefton park, west derby, wavertree, and garston. at several of these libraries we have reading-rooms and special books for boys, which are much appreciated by them. we were fortunate in inducing mr. andrew carnegie to open the new library in windsor street, and he was so much pleased with it that he offered to build for us a duplicate in west derby. he remarked it was the first time he had ever offered to give a library, making it a rule that he must be invited to present one, and then if the site was provided, and a suitable income assured to maintain it, he gave the necessary funds for the building as a matter of course. mr. carnegie subsequently presented us with another library for garston, and more recently he gave me £ , for two more libraries, making his gift to liverpool £ , in all. mr. carnegie's munificence has been remarkable, not only in its extent, but in its method. he has given £ , , for the erection of libraries and other institutions, but all of his gifts have been made after careful investigation, and in conformity with certain rules which he has laid down. when he opened the windsor street library he stayed at bromborough hall, and we took him also to the opening of st. deiniol's library, at hawarden. if mr. carnegie had not been a millionaire he would still have been a remarkable man. endowed with a keen power of observation, rapidity of judgment, and great courage, he has all the elements which make for success in any walk in life. he told me that as a superintendent of the pennsylvania railway he saw that iron bridges should take the place of their wooden bridges. he formed an iron company to supply these bridges. another opportunity offered, of which he was not slow to avail, when the iron bridges had in course of time to be replaced with steel. the example of this great railway was quickly followed by others, and the carnegie steel works grew larger and larger. the carriage of the iron ore miles by rail, from lake superior, was a costly item, so he constructed his own railway, which enabled him to greatly reduce the carriage. all these things indicate his enterprise and courage, which have made him not only a millionaire, but also a great public benefactor. the council entrusted the library committee with the administration of the moneys granted for technical education, and as it took some years to lay the foundations of a technical system of education the funds accumulated, and we were able to pay off the debt on the libraries, about £ , , and to build the extension to the museum, costing £ , . the foundation stone was laid by me on the st july, . liverpool has always been rich in museum exhibits, and particularly in natural history and ethnography, and we have added recently to our collection by purchasing canon tristram's collection of birds. out of this great storehouse our director, doctor forbes, has arranged the galleries so admirably, both on the scientific and popular sides, that they are the admiration of all naturalists, and liverpool has every reason to be proud of her museums, which are admittedly the finest out of london. the galleries were opened by the late earl of derby on the th october, . i was anxious to bring the libraries, and especially the museums, into closer touch with the university, and have always maintained that co-operation between these institutions is absolutely necessary, if we are to get the best out of each. the walker art gallery. the work in connection with the walker art gallery has always been to me one of absorbing interest, and the annual visit in the spring to the london studios a very great treat. it is not merely that one has the opportunity of seeing the pictures of the year, but also to hear the views of the artists; men who lead lives of their own, in their art, and for their art, and whose views upon art matters open up new avenues for thought, and continually suggest new methods of action. mr. philip rathbone was our first chairman of the art sub-committee, and he did a great work in popularising our autumn exhibition in london. he was almost a bohemian by nature, and was quite at home in the artist world of london. he was a genius in many ways; he knew much about art; was a poet whose verses had a charm of their own; he was a delightful companion and inherited many of those remarkable traits of character which have distinguished the rathbone family and have made them such benefactors of their native city. among the studios. we had some interesting experiences during our visits to the studios, and were often asked to criticise and suggest a name for a picture. on one occasion when visiting lord leighton's studio, he was painting a charming picture entitled "persephone," the coming of spring. he had painted some brown figs in the foreground. mr. rathbone remarked that in spring the figs should be green. lord leighton replied, "you are right," and dabbing his thumb into some green paint on his palette he smeared the figs with green, and when the picture was finished they remained green; but inasmuch as you see green and brown figs on a fig-tree at the same time, in spring and in autumn, lord leighton was not incorrect, and brown figs would, i think, have better suited his colour scheme. mr. byam shaw painted a picture of "the princes in the tower" at ludlow castle, and looking out of the tower upon the landscape beyond, the eye rested upon a copse of larches, but as larches were not grown in england for a hundred years after the incident portrayed in the picture, they had to be painted out and other trees substituted. visiting the studio of mr. greiffenhagen we found him engaged upon a pastoral idyll, a shepherd boy embracing a red-headed girl in a field of poppies. he had as his models an italian and his boy. upon my remarking upon this, he explained his only inducement to paint the subject was a promise made by two of his friends, who were engaged to be married, to sit as his models. they came, and appeared to greatly enjoy the situation; but alas! they got married and did not return, and he was obliged to finish his picture with this italian and his boy. it was a lovely picture, and now adorns our permanent collection. one is much impressed when visiting the studios by the comparative poverty of the profession. i don't suppose the average income of the london artist exceeds £ to £ per annum. they paint pictures but do not sell them. formerly they were able to supplement their incomes by working in black and white, but machine processes have now superseded black and white, and the architect and house decorator have dealt pictorial art a severe blow by introducing styles of decoration which leave no room for the picture. lord leighton was a great friend to liverpool, but we did not treat him kindly. whenever we had any difficulty in obtaining a picture for our exhibition he was always ready to take trouble and use his influence to secure it for us. we bought from him one of the best pictures he ever painted, the "andromeda"; the price was £ , , and he agreed to accept the amount payable over two years. the purchase was noised abroad, but unfortunately the council declined to confirm it. sir james picton was not happy in the way he submitted the proposal to the council. manchester immediately secured the picture. meeting lord leighton a year or so afterwards i apologised to him for the action of the council, when he most magnanimously said, "i was not troubled for myself, but for you, and it pained me when i heard that mr. samuelson, your deputy chairman, twice came to my house to explain matters, but his courage failed him, and he went away without even ringing the bell." sir john millais was appointed president of the royal academy in succession to lord leighton. it fell to me to call at his studio only a few months before he died, when he remarked: "you have in liverpool my picture with a kick in it" (alluding to the picture of "lorenzo and isabella," in which the figure in the foreground is in the act of kicking a dog), and he continued, "i well remember that picture." this was spoken evidently with a sad recollection. i knew what was passing in his mind, for the late sir henry tate told me that mr. millais painted the picture when quite a young man, for a dealer, and was to receive in payment £ . the dealer failed, and mr. millais found himself in great financial difficulty, when a stranger called and said, "i understand you have painted a picture for mr. ----" (naming the dealer), and asked to look at it. he immediately bought it, giving £ , and the painter's difficulties were removed. mrs. fraser, the wife of dr. fraser, the bishop of manchester, told me a good story of millais. he was painting the bishop's portrait, and the picture had reached the stage of the last sitting. mr. millais' dog jumped upon the chair upon which the artist had placed his palette. the palette fell on to the floor, paint side downwards. millais was annoyed and kicked at the dog. the situation had an amusing side which caused the bishop to laugh heartily, whereupon millais looked still more angry, and exclaimed, "i have painted the wrong man, i had no idea you had such a sense of humour." the picture, although an excellent likeness, represents the bishop as a demure ecclesiastic. those who remember him will recollect how genial and full of humour he was. when mayor in , i acted as honorary secretary to a committee entrusted with the painting of a likeness of the late charles maciver. we gave the commission to professor herkomer, who called at the town hall to enquire what sort of a man mr. maciver was. i told him that he was a man of exceptionally strong character, a perfect autocrat in his management of the cunard company, of which he was one of the founders. professor herkomer called at the town hall a few days after, and said, "i am returning home as i have been unable to find the mr. maciver as you described him: he has lost a near relative and appears broken in health." the professor called upon me again a few months after and said "i have found mr. maciver, the strong man you told me he was, and have painted the portrait." the picture hangs in the permanent collection at the walker art gallery. in , when mr. robert holt was lord mayor, he received a telegram from sir john gilbert, r.a., saying he wished to present some of his pictures to liverpool, and desiring that some one should go up to select them. the council was sitting. the lord mayor passed the telegram on to me, and asked me to go up to london. i did so the same day, and called upon sir john gilbert, at blackheath, the next morning. on my entering his room the veteran artist said "i see one of your names is 'bower,' are you any relation to mr. alfred bower, who married the daughter of my old friend lance, the fruit painter." on my stating that i was his nephew, he replied, "well, i intended giving temple, of the guildhall, the first pick, but you shall have it for my old friend's sake." i found the house stacked with pictures from the cellar to the attic. sir john had been painting and keeping his pictures to present to the nation, together with an art gallery; but he had suddenly changed his mind, and resolved to divide them between the great cities. i selected some twelve or fourteen large canvases, which now adorn our art gallery. sir john was our greatest painter of historical pictures, and one of our most brilliant colourists. mr. whistler came down to hang our autumn exhibition one year. he was most _difficile_, finding fault with every picture brought before him. we could not get on, and should have had no exhibition at all had we not hit upon the expedient of offering him a room all to himself, in which he should hang the pictures of his own choice and in his own way. he accepted the offer. this room has ever since been filled with pictures of the impressionist school. upon mr. rathbone's death mr. john lea became his successor, and he has done yeoman service for our autumn exhibition. for many years he gave an annual dinner to the artists in london, and he was honoured by the presence of the leading members of the royal academy and their wives. the dinners took place at the grand hotel, and were exceedingly well done. they greatly assisted us in our work of collecting the best pictures of the year. it has been a great pleasure to us to entertain at bromborough hall many of the artists entrusted with the hanging of the exhibitions. on retiring from the library committee in , after nineteen years' service as chairman, i gave an account of my stewardship, which was reported as follows in the local press:-- "in returning thanks sir william forwood said it was with very deep regret that he had to take leave of them as their chairman. he felt the time had come when the trust should be placed in younger hands. on the th of next month it would be forty years since he entered the city council, and his first committee was the library committee, of which he was elected chairman in . much had happened during that time. in they had only two small branch libraries, and there were no reading-rooms in the great centres of population. early in that year the kensington branch library and reading-room was opened. the total issue of books and periodicals at all the libraries was , , ; last year the issue was , , , an increase of nearly per cent. these figures became more striking when it was remembered that the population during this period had increased only per cent. not only had the appetite for reading grown, but the growth had been in a very satisfactory direction. whereas in per cent. of the total issues were of prose fiction, last year this percentage had fallen to per cent. he did not wish to disparage the reading of good fiction; on the contrary, he had always contended that the reading of fiction frequently formed the habit of reading, which would otherwise never be obtained. they had worked upon this view, and gave to the borrower of a work of fiction the right to take out another book of a more serious character. in the number of our home readers was , ; to-day they had , , and during this period they had added , books to the shelves. the total issue of books, etc., during the past eighteen years reached the enormous total of , , . in place of forty-nine free lectures, all given at one centre, they now gave lectures distributed over nineteen centres. "in , out of a rate of one penny in the £, they maintained the central reference library and three branch libraries, the art gallery, and the museum. to-day, with the rate of a penny three-farthings, they maintained three greatly enlarged central institutions, ten lending libraries and reading-rooms, and gave free lectures. they were now completing the erection of a library at garston, and had secured the land for a library at walton. the encouraging result of the system of free access to open bookshelves in the picton and the branch reading-rooms induced him to hope that the new library at walton might be entirely run upon this principle. they had also done a great deal to encourage juvenile readers and with most gratifying and encouraging results. juvenile libraries and reading-rooms were provided, and free lectures to the young formed an important branch of their work. they had been very much helped by the handsome gifts made by mr. andrew carnegie, the collection of fine art books and prints made by the late mr. hugh frederick hornby, to whose generosity they were indebted for the room in which they were now displayed--and the books in the braille type contributed by miss hornby, of walton. "the growth of the natural history museum had been remarkable. liverpool received as a bequest from the th earl of derby a very large collection of natural history specimens, which was enriched from time to time by other gifts. the limited space in the museum was choked by specimens which could not be properly displayed or scientifically arranged, and the greater part of the specimens remained stowed away in cases in the cellars. in it was decided to greatly extend the museum by building further galleries over the new technical schools. this extension cost £ , . this additional space had been entirely filled by the zoological collections, which had been most carefully and scientifically arranged by the director, dr. forbes, and they now only awaited the completion of the descriptive catalogue to make this department complete and worthy of its high reputation. "the permanent collection of art had been greatly enriched by the pictures purchased and also by pictures presented to the city. the wall space in the galleries was so limited that the work of the committee was carried on under great difficulty. an enlargement of the art gallery was urgently needed. under the active chairmanship of mr. lea, assisted by mr. dibdin, the curator, the autumn exhibition of pictures continued to grow in excellence; but, notwithstanding this, it was remarkable that the interest of the public in pictorial art appeared to be on the decline. whereas in the total receipts of their exhibition reached £ , , and in £ , , last year they were only £ , ; and while in pictures were sold of the value of £ , , last year the sales only reached £ , . this falling off was, however, not peculiar to liverpool. the art exhibitions in london had the same experiences. it was no doubt attributable largely to the beautiful art processes by which pictures were reproduced, which appeared to satisfy the public taste and destroyed the desire to see the originals. another cause might be attributed to the changes which had taken place in the art decoration of houses, which did not admit of the display of pictures. no doubt in time a reaction will take place. art might sleep but it could never die. it was not thinkable that a love for pictures could for long be dormant; but in the meantime they must appeal to the liverpool public for a generous support to the efforts made by the art committee to bring to their doors every year the very best pictures produced in this country. "in looking back over the past eighteen years," remarked sir william in conclusion, "i feel very proud of the excellent work done by these institutions. we have ministered largely to the education and entertainment of the people. we have carried brightness and sweetness into many a home, and have done not a little, i hope, to refine and elevate the masses of our fellow-citizens, and i think we can also claim to have been faithful stewards of the funds placed at our disposal. in taking leave of you i thank you all for your kindness and consideration. to mr. holt, our senior member, who has occupied the vice-chair all these years, i tender my grateful thanks for his help always so cheerfully given. i am also greatly indebted to our staff for the assistance they have invariably extended to me, and i wish to especially record my obligations to our veteran chief librarian (mr. cowell), who has rendered to me the greatest service in many ways, and especially in keeping a careful oversight upon our finances. if i might take the liberty of leaving behind me a word of counsel and advice, i would say--strive always to popularise these institutions; they belong to the people, and the more they are brought into close contact with the people the more generous will be their appreciation and support, and greater will be the amount of real good accomplished. "a cordial vote of thanks was tendered to the vice-chairman, mr. r. d. holt, on the proposition of alderman stolterfoht, seconded by mr. crosthwaite." of mr. robert holt i could say much. we were for so long, and so pleasantly associated on this committee, where for over twenty years he acted as my deputy-chairman. he was most loyal, most kind and helpful. he had a temperament which shrank from responsibility, and was naturally critical and hesitating. yet he was kindness itself, and inspired a feeling of love and respect. he had considerable artistic taste and knowledge of pictures. he passed away at the age of , deeply mourned by all his colleagues. up to the last he was the most punctual and regular member in his attendance at the library committee. chapter ix. knighthood and freedom of liverpool. some two years after the conclusion of my mayoralty, in , mr. gladstone, the prime minister, wrote to me stating that it would give him pleasure to submit my name to the queen for the honour of a knighthood. i attended a special council at windsor to receive the "accolade." we were entertained at luncheon, and after waiting about in the corridors for some time we were ushered one by one into the oak dining-room. the gentleman who preceded me, being lame, could not kneel, and the queen knighted him standing. when i entered the room there was no cushion to kneel upon. her majesty noticed it at once, and exclaimed, "where is the cushion?" and a.d.c.'s flew in all directions in search of one. meantime i was kept standing, feeling not a little nervous; the queen apparently thought it was a good joke, and laughed, for it appeared from the time occupied in finding a cushion that cushions did not abound at windsor. i received through lord claud hamilton a very kind message of congratulation from the prince of wales, who had evidently been greatly impressed by his visit to liverpool. although the honour of knighthood was ostensibly bestowed in connection with the visit of the prince and princess of wales, and the opening of the new docks, i was semi-officially informed that it was really a recognition of my work in connection with the fenian movement. honorary freedom of liverpool. much as i valued the honour of knighthood, i still more greatly esteemed the distinction conferred upon me by my fellow-citizens when they bestowed upon me the freedom of the city--the greatest honour any man can receive. other honours are conferred for political and other services, all more or less meritorious; but to be singled out by those among whom you have lived all your life in order to receive the greatest distinction it is in their power to offer is an honour worth living for, and particularly when its bestowal is so jealously safe-guarded and kept so entirely free from political bias as it is in liverpool. it then becomes doubly precious. it is easy in a great community to make enemies. even the very success which may crown one's efforts to do good may produce them. a unanimous vote of a large city council is, therefore, not an easy thing to obtain, and is in itself a great compliment. i may perhaps be pardoned if i venture to insert a short account of the proceedings of the special council when the freedom was conferred, taken from the _liverpool post and mercury_:-- "in the presence of a large and distinguished assembly of ladies and gentlemen, the freedom of the city of liverpool was yesterday afternoon presented, in the council chamber at the town hall, to sir william forwood, the father of the city council. sir william was first elected to the council as a representative of pitt street ward in november, , and nine years later, in , he was promoted to the aldermanic bench, of which he is still a member. he was mayor of the city in - . he is also a member of the city bench, of the county bench for lancashire and cheshire, chairman of the liverpool county quarter sessions, and a deputy-lieutenant for lancashire. the lord mayor (alderman charles petrie) presided, and, preceded by the city regalia, he was accompanied into the council chamber by sir thomas hughes, mr. john brancker, and mr. b. levy (freemen of the city), mr. r. a. hampson, mr. r. d. holt, and mr. t. burke (the mover, seconder, and supporter of the resolution of the city council in favour of conferring the freedom on sir william forwood), sir william tate, sir john a. willox, m.p., mr. a. crosthwaite (ex-lord mayor), mr. john williamson, and many other prominent citizens. there was also a very large attendance of members of the city council. alderman w. b. bowring sent a telegram regretting his inability to be present through indisposition. "the lord mayor, in opening the interesting proceedings said: i have much pleasure in asking the recorder, mr. hopwood, kindly to read the resolution of the council conferring the honorary freedom of the city upon sir william bower forwood. "the recorder: my lord mayor, i read the minute of the corporation. 'at a meeting of the council of the city of liverpool, holden on wednesday, the th day of june, , under the honorary freedom of boroughs act, , present the right hon. charles petrie (lord mayor), and a full council, it was moved by councillor hampson, seconded by councillor r. d. holt, supported by councillor burke, and resolved unanimously that, in pursuance of statute and of victoria, chap. , entitled an act to enable municipal corporations to confer the honorary freedom of boroughs upon persons of distinction, the honorary freedom of the city be conferred upon alderman sir william bower forwood, in recognition of the eminent services he has rendered to the municipality throughout his membership of the council, extending over a period of thirty-three years, during the course of which he has filled the office of chief magistrate and other public positions with credit to himself and benefit to the community, and especially for the deep interest he has taken in the establishment of libraries and reading-rooms in the city.' "the lord mayor: sir william forwood, ladies and gentlemen, it is not often we meet in this chamber as a council under such happy auspices as we are met to-day. we are gathered here with one accord to do honour to one of our number whom we are pleased to term the father of the council, sir william forwood. not that he is by any means the oldest man amongst us, but he happens to have been in the council longer than any other member. it is now nearly thirty-four years since sir william was first returned as member for pitt street ward, on the nd november, , and ever since then he has held a seat in the city council, and, as you all know, he has served upon nearly all the important committees of the council--for instance, the finance, estate, watch, water, library, museum and arts, and parliamentary committees. as chairman of the parliamentary committee he rendered very valuable services in the opposition to the manchester ship canal, and also with regard to railway rates. but for many years past sir william has unstintingly devoted his time and his great ability to the library, museum, and arts committee. and i am sure the city is very greatly indebted to him for the valuable work that that committee has done." the lord mayor proceeded to enlarge upon sir william's services to the city, and in conclusion said:--"i have now great pleasure, sir william, as chief magistrate of the city, in asking you on behalf of the citizens to accept this illuminated resolution of the council and also this casket, and i am sure i am only echoing the sentiment of everyone here to-day, and not only those here, but those outside, when i say that we wish you long life, health, and happiness to continue in the honour which you hold. i will now ask you to sign the roll of honorary freemen. "the scroll on which is inscribed the freedom of the city is designed and illuminated by james orr marples (mr. rutherfoord), liverpool and london chambers, exchange. the vellum is bound and backed with royal blue silk and attached to an ivory roller. at the top of the composition is the liver crest and tridents between the arms and supporters of the city, and a view of the town hall. below, on the left side, beautifully emblazoned, are the armorial bearings of sir william b. forwood, with the crest and knight's helmet, the steel visor raised. on a scroll beneath the shield is the motto 'fide virtute et labore.' the civic regalia and the port of liverpool occupy the bottom of the design. pendant by a broad blue ribbon from the scroll is the official seal of the city of liverpool. "the scroll was enclosed in a handsome silver-gilt box, decorated with panel pictures of the town hall, free libraries, and museum, in enamels. "sir william forwood, having signed the roll, said:--my lord mayor, aldermen, councillors, and ladies and gentlemen,--believe me it is most difficult, indeed it is well nigh impossible to find words adequately to convey to you all the gratitude which fills my heart, to tell you how deeply i appreciate and value the very great honour and distinction you have so very generously and graciously conferred upon me, or to thank you, my lord mayor, for the very eloquent, kind, but sadly too flattering terms in which you have made this presentation. the honorary freedom of the city of liverpool, guarded by this council with so much jealousy, and bestowed with such a frugal hand, is the greatest honour which this city can confer--it is a unique order of merit, it is not conferred by the favour of a monarch or minister, but by the spontaneous and unanimous voice of a great representative assembly, and as such is not surpassed by any similar order in this country. it is justly esteemed and valued by distinguished statesmen and philanthropists, and not less by successful soldiers who in the hour of their country's great anxiety have turned defeat into victory. how much more, then, must i prize it, the freedom of my native city, as one born in liverpool, and who has spent his life in your midst, and whose only claim to this great honour is that he has endeavoured to be of some use to his fellow-citizens. how imperfect this service has been, how much more i might have done, no one is more conscious of than i am; but you in your great kindness and generosity have been good enough to overlook my shortcomings, and are content to recognise only my long services and my desire at all times to the best of my ability to promote the welfare of this important community. i thank you most sincerely and with all my heart; my children and my children's children will, i am sure, look upon this beautiful casket and the record which it contains with feelings of pride and gratification. it is an added charm to the presentation which you have made to me that i am permitted to associate with it the memory of my late brother, who gave to this city the best of his life, the best of his thought and work, and died in their service. his memory will be long cherished by all those who witnessed his public spirit, his long and his unselfish devotion to the interests of the people of liverpool. i remember well the first time i entered this town hall. as a boy i had spent my summer holidays at the edge lane entrance to the botanic gardens, obtaining signatures to a petition to the town council asking them to purchase the land adjoining the botanic gardens for a park. i obtained , signatures. i brought the petition down in a cab. i remember it was too bulky to carry, and it had to be rolled through the vestibule to the town clerk's office, which was then in this building. that petition was successful, and the wavertree park was the first of those beautiful parks which now girdle the city. my next appearance within these walls was as the proud representative for pitt street ward. it serves to mark the flight of time when i call to mind that of the members of the council when i entered it in only three now survive--mr. samuel greg rathbone, mr. philip holt, and myself. mr. rathbone is already a freeman, and our roll of freemen would be greatly enriched if we could add the name of liverpool's anonymous and great benefactor. of the members who have since entered this council, many have fallen by the wayside, many have retired into private life, some have gone forward to the commons house of parliament to bear their part in the government of the country; but a goodly number have, i am glad to say, remained faithful to the municipal government of the city, recognising that they can undertake no more noble or useful work. municipal work is many sided: it is full of interests; it is very attractive, and even fascinating; and it brings with it its own reward in the satisfaction of feeling that you are doing good. it may lack the glamour and prestige of the imperial parliament, but it has this great advantage: the city council affords greater opportunities of initiating and carrying into effect measures for the benefit of the people among whom we live, and we have the added advantage of seeing the growth and fruition of our work. who can compare the liverpool of to-day with the liverpool of thirty years ago without feeling thankful for what has been done, and proud that he has been privileged to take part in the doing of it? it seems only the other day we were wrestling with such an insanitary condition of things that the unhealthiness of liverpool was a byword, and the prevalence of drunkenness and crime caused this city to be alluded to as the 'black spot on the mersey.' great social and sanitary problems had to be solved, which for years defied all attempts at their solution--it was only when broader and more enlightened views of municipal responsibility and duty came to the front, supported by a healthy and more vigorous public opinion outside, that these problems were grappled with, with such intelligence and determination that the liverpool of to-day can challenge comparison with any city in the world--not only in the excellence and efficiency of its municipal government and administration but in its enlightened policy in dealing with insanitary property, housing the poor, the treatment of infectious disease, and last but not least, in the suppression and prevention of drunkenness and crime. you have, my lord mayor, alluded to the work done by the library, museum, and arts committee over which it is my privilege to preside. this may not bulk very largely in the public eye, but nevertheless it is very real, and is doing much for the intellectual and moral welfare of the people, and helping to make their lives brighter and happier. when we get those additional funds which i hope the generosity of the council will give to us at no distant date, our work must progress by leaps and bounds. while the freedom of liverpool which you have so very generously presented to me is the symbol of the highest honour conferred by a great city, whose ships cover the seas and whose commerce fills every corner of the globe, it is more than all this--it is the kind expression of goodwill and approval of friends with whom it has been my high privilege to work for so many years--an expression which i greatly value and appreciate, and for which i return you once again my most sincere and heartfelt thanks." chapter x. political work. party politics have always been very prominent in liverpool, partly no doubt due to the old conservative associations, and partly to the presence in the city of so many orangemen. liverpool in my time has been mainly conservative, and indeed, except for a brief period, this party has held the town hall and ruled over the municipal destinies of the town. it is, however, pleasant to recognise the good work done by the liberals, who have always taken their share of committee work and most loyally helped forward the government of the city. the annual fight for the possession of the town hall has not been so much to secure party domination in the city as to control its representation in parliament. this was an important consideration when the city voted as one unit for its three members. but it is of less importance now that the city is divided up into nine wards, each having its own representative in parliament. the day may come when politics will happily cease to influence the municipal elections. my earliest recollection of a general election is of being present on the hustings erected in front of the town hall. the nominations took place on the hustings, and the occasion was taken advantage of to ply the candidates with questions, and the proceedings seldom ended without some horse-play, the throwing of rotten eggs and bags of flour, etc. of those prominent in these early elections i remember tom bold, the tory tactician; alderman livingston, always to the front in a political fight; mr. alderman rigby, the blucher of the party. money flowed freely, and also beer on the day of the election, and the town was kept more or less in a turmoil. all must rejoice in the quiet and orderly character of an election day under the new conditions which now prevail. very shortly after entering the town council i was asked to undertake the duties of "whip," though we did not then dignify the position by that high-sounding name; in other words i acted as honorary secretary to the conservative party in the council. the appointment was probably made at the instance of my brother arthur, who was already very active in the political world, but for business reasons could not at that time make himself very prominent. "party" politics were never very congenial to me, although all my leanings were conservative. i have felt that "party" makes one acquainted with strange bedfellows, and induces men to do and say things from which they would shrink in everyday life; and i think "party" considerations are carried too far, and the best interests of the country are too often sacrificed at its call. in my early years the parliamentary representation of the borough was divided, mr. t. b. horsfall and mr. ewart being our members. i knew them only slightly. mr. s. r. graves defeated mr. ewart in . mr. graves had a fine commanding presence and all the address and _bonhomie_ of an irishman. he quickly became very popular at westminster and did excellent work for liverpool. his knowledge of shipping was much appreciated in the house, and it was generally expected that he would be the secretary or the first lord of the admiralty, but his career was prematurely cut off, to the great grief of liverpool; he died in . his statue stands in st. george's hall. i was secretary to the memorial committee. after defraying the cost of the statue we devoted the balance of the money collected to the endowment of "graves" scholars at the seamen's orphanage, an institution with which mr. graves had been very closely identified. the parliamentary candidates for the vacancy were mr. john torr, a prominent merchant, who stood in the conservative interest, and mr. william s. caine, another liverpool man, supported by the radicals and teetotalers. i acted as the honorary secretary for mr. torr. the election was hotly contested, but mr. torr was returned by a majority of nearly , . in those days we paid much court and deference to our members. they were held in high personal esteem, always received the hospitality of our leading men, and were never allowed to stay at an hotel. lord sandon became our member in , defeating mr. william rathbone. naturally a very delicate man with a highly strung nervous system, the representation of such an important constituency as liverpool was a source of much anxiety to him. any subject brought under his notice became to him a matter of the first and most urgent importance. lord sandon was a true aristocrat, refined in manner and most courteous and considerate to all. he continued to represent liverpool until , when he succeeded his father in the peerage and became the earl of harrowby. upon the death of mr. torr in , mr. edward whitley became our member. mr. whitley had for many years been the most popular man in liverpool. an ardent conservative, a good evangelical churchman, and excelling in good works, the name of edward whitley was a household word in liverpool. he was the leader of the tory party in the council, and was a frequent speaker, but his speeches, though fluent, were not convincing. mr. whitley, although a very diligent member, was not a conspicuous success in parliament; he failed to catch the ear of the house. few men have done more for their native town or were more highly respected in their day and generation. he died in . in the party representation of liverpool underwent an important change, a partition of the city into nine divisions being effected, each returning one member. it has seemed to me that this has involved some loss of individuality on the part of the nine members, and that liverpool has taken comparatively little interest in their doings, and i am inclined to doubt if the city exercises as much influence in the affairs of the nation, or if our local parliamentary business is as well looked after. the effacement of the private member is due very much to his inability to initiate legislation. if he introduces a bill it has to run the chances of the ballot, and if it is a good measure and gets a good place in the ballot, it is too frequently adopted by the government, and in this way the private member loses his individuality and there is little inducement for him to originate legislation. mr. rathbone, when he was our member, had an office and a staff of clerks in his house at prince's gate, london, for the purpose of looking after the parliamentary business of liverpool, and it has never since been so systematically and so well attended to. the contest for the county in , when mr. gladstone and mr. r. a. cross (now lord cross) were the candidates, is very fresh in my memory. the question of the day was the irish church. mr. gladstone delivered a series of very brilliant addresses, but to the surprise of everyone mr. cross's replies were equally brilliant, and we thought very crushing. we took the candidates, cross and blackburn, in a coach and four, to canvass colonel blundell at crosby hall, and mr. weld blundell at ince. i was shortly afterwards made chairman of the waterloo polling district, and in became chairman of the southport division. the first contest in this division was between our candidate, mr. john edwards moss (now sir john edwards moss, bart.), and dr. pilkington (now sir george pilkington). it was an uphill fight; southport had always been a radical place, and remained true to her radical principles. the electors were very fastidious; they took exception to our candidate wearing rings on his fingers, and helping himself while speaking to a little sherry and water out of his flask. we unfortunately lost the election. when the next election came round, we had to look about for another candidate, and tried for several, but they were not attracted to southport; in the end we invited the honourable george curzon, the eldest son of lord scarsdale, of kedleston. he had lately been defeated at derby, but he was a young man, only , with a record of a very brilliant university career, and had been president of the union at oxford. mr. curzon accepted our invitation, and came down to southport to deliver his first speech, which was very brilliant, and quite took everyone by surprise. he was very boyish in looks, which occasioned one rough lancashire man to get up in the meeting and exclaim, "thou art o'er young for us." mr. curzon quickly replied, "if you will return me as your member i promise i will improve upon that every day i live." in moving a vote of confidence in mr. curzon i predicted that he would one day be prime minister, he so greatly impressed me with his intellectual power and great eloquence. mr. curzon made a splendid and most active candidate. he addressed meetings in every village in the division, every speech was carefully thought out and prepared, and his industry was remarkable. when he stayed, as he frequently did, at "ramleh," he retired to his room after breakfast and we did not see him again until dinner-time; he had been engaged all day working at his speech. he had the gift of taking pains. we won the election only by a majority of . mr. curzon remained our member for thirteen years, until he was appointed viceroy of india. we fought three contests, winning each with an increased majority, until at the last election, in , mr. curzon's majority was . his opponent, then sir herbert naylor-leyland, was formerly a conservative, and as such stood for colchester. he was made a baronet by the liberals, and came and fought southport as a radical. when he stood for colchester as a conservative he had made abundant use of mr. curzon's speeches at southport, delivering them as his own, and we did not fail to make capital of this amusing episode when he stood as a radical for southport. lady naylor-leyland was a beautiful american woman, one of the society beauties of the day, and she created a sensation as she drove about in an open carriage all decked with roses. but mrs. curzon was equally attractive; she was a bride, and had most charming and winning manners, and her presence on our platforms was a great help. it was my duty as chairman to escort her to our meetings, and i remember almost the last words she said to me on leaving southport were, "sir william, i shall always think of you getting me through crowds." mr. curzon occupied a furnished house at southport during the election, and i stayed part of the time with them; and shall never forget mrs. curzon's gracious manner and her loving devotion to her husband. alas for him and his great career, she died too soon. she gave her life, i fear, that she might support her husband in the splendid discharge of his duties in india. lord curzon has gone into the house of lords, where he will, i have no doubt, render great and distinguished service to the country; but had lady curzon lived i feel he would have entered the more congenial atmosphere of the commons, and my prophecy that he would one day be prime minister would have been fulfilled. the following incident proves the one great secret of lord curzon's success in life has been his remarkable industry. he made a journey to persia, and wrote a book which is to-day the standard work on persia. he was anxious to make an index, which he could have had done for him for a small expenditure, but he preferred to do it himself in his own way, and for this purpose he remained in rooms at croydon for a month hard at work, and i believe i was the only person who knew his address. the value of lord curzon's work in india cannot very well be overstated. travelling through india some two years after his return home, we found everywhere the impress of his remarkable industry and thoughtfulness. one day when visiting the _cutcherry_ of a far distant province, we found the entire system of correspondence had been personally revised by the late viceroy. on another occasion, the engineer of a coal mine to whom i was talking told me that the viceroy visited his mine and personally interested himself in obtaining improved traffic facilities on the railway. on another day, when visiting a palace at delhi, we found a number of italians restoring the mosaics; they informed us they were still in the pay of lord and lady curzon. i could go on enumerating instances of his activity and his abiding interest in india. in the restoration of the old landmarks and monuments in india, lord curzon has done a work which for generations to come will make his name memorable. after lord curzon retired from southport we had another election; this time lord skelmersdale, now the earl of lathom, was our candidate, and sir herbert naylor-leyland our opponent. the fight was a severe one. we missed the great personality of mr. curzon, and although lord skelmersdale was an industrious candidate, and was very ably assisted by lady skelmersdale, we lost the election. after this i retired from the chairmanship of the division, and was presented by the southport conservative association with a handsome silver bowl. i congratulated myself as a political leader that i was able to accomplish the conversion of the two largest landowners in the southport division, mr. weld-blundell, of ince hall, and colonel blundell, of crosby hall. they had been for generations liberal, and in the election mr. gladstone stayed with mr. weld-blundell; but in , on the home rule for ireland question, they both supported mr. curzon, held meetings for us in their villages, and on the day of the election colonel blundell rode down to the poll at the head of his tenants. these, however, did not all vote for us. they had always voted liberal and did not know why they should change because the squire had done so. crosby hall and ince were pleasant country houses to visit in the days of the old squires. it is strange that although the two estates march together the families have never inter-married since . the duties of a chairman of a division, in which both parties are evenly balanced, are not light, and can only be successfully accomplished if made personal. the secret of political success lies largely in organisation, and this must be vigilantly carried on in times when there is no political excitement, and when there is apparently no reason to work. a political organisation to be of any value must be continuous and must be thorough; it is not possible to organise a party on the eve of an election; you must have trusty lieutenants who know their work and do it. one of the weaknesses of any party organisation is the number of loafers, men ready to shout, but who are not capable of steady work. the quiet, but not very exciting task of looking after the register, watching removals, and having a careful canvass and cross-canvass of every elector, is the organisation and work which wins elections. we had in southport many excellent leaders, mr. john formby, mr. beauford, mr. clinning, and many others i could name, with whom it was a great pleasure to work, and my political association with the southport division will ever remain with me as a sunny memory. i have declined several invitations to stand for parliament--on two occasions from southport, one from walton, one from everton, and more recently one from westmorland. when in business it was not possible for me to enter parliament, as my brother arthur was already a member; and i have since felt that if a member is to make any position in parliament he should enter the house on the right side of fifty. of late years my free trade principles have been a barrier to my taking an active part on the conservative side. i did my best to prevent my friends delivering themselves up to tariff reform, and published a series of letters in the _daily post_ on free trade _v._ protection, which were afterwards published in pamphlet form, and had a very extensive circulation. economic subjects have been my favourite studies, and i have seen much of the working of protection in america. in i delivered an address on free trade before the new york chamber of commerce, and at their request i repeated this address before the chambers of commerce in cleveland, chicago, etc., but with little success. the question of a tariff had already become "political." i was present in america during some of their industrial crises, upon which i addressed several letters to the london _times_ and _standard_. it is difficult to describe the intensity and the prolonged suffering caused by the over-production encouraged by protection, with no outlet save the home market. the only relief was the "scrapping" of the surplus manufacturing power, which brought great suffering to the working people. i have since written many papers on the subject; the controversy does not therefore come upon me as something new. this is not the place, however, to discuss these matters, but one cannot understand liverpool becoming enamoured with tariff reform. liverpool lives on her shipping and carrying trade, and whatever else may happen, this is at least certain, that tariff reform must reduce the quantity of imports and exports, and there must be less freight for our shipping to carry. tariff reform may give temporary prosperity to the manufacturer, but if ever adopted will be a serious blow to the trade and prosperity of liverpool, and indeed of lancashire, as the cotton manufacturing industry depends entirely upon our ability to turn cotton into yarn and cloth at the lowest possible cost. chapter xi. judicial work. i was placed on the liverpool borough bench of magistrates in ; on the lancashire county bench in ; on the cheshire county bench in ; and was made a deputy-lieutenant for lancashire in . in mr. aspinall tobin, on behalf of the lancashire county bench, invited me to be nominated as the deputy-chairman of quarter sessions. lord derby had retired from the chair, and mr. hugh perkins had taken his place, therefore a deputy-chairman was wanted. in accepting this invitation, i decided if elected to this important position to devote myself to the study of the criminal law, and to qualify myself as a magistrate, as far as a layman could do so. my spare time for several years was spent in reading the law of evidence and criminal law, and i also learnt a great deal from my chairman, who was a very painstaking magistrate, and who very kindly gave me much good advice. mr. perkins retired in and i was appointed chairman, and became the only lay chairman in lancashire, the other three chairmen being all queen's counsel. i was also elected chairman of the county bench and of the licensing justices. we had eight sessions in our court in each year, and this with the licensing work kept us very busy on several occasions. the sessions in those days lasted seven and eight days, and once even ten days. the appeals from the decisions of the city justices on licensing questions were very numerous; at one sessions we heard thirty-eight appeals, and as in most cases they involved the loss of the license these appeals were fought with great vigour, and queen's counsel were generally engaged in their conduct. lord mersey and the honourable justices walton, pickford, and horridge, practised at our quarter sessions. i was gratified to receive a letter from one of these learned judges saying that what he knew of the rules of evidence had been mainly acquired in our court. quarter sessions may be termed the nursery of the bar. young men get their first briefs, called "soups," at quarter sessions, and are naturally anxious to air their knowledge of the law, but many have to learn that the theory and the practice of the law are not quite the same, and that the application of the theory can only be obtained by practical experience in court, and this more particularly applies to the rules of evidence. in addition to the judges named many eminent king's counsel have made their first start at our quarter sessions. i can recall the names of messrs. mcconnell, k.c., steel, k.c., collingwood hope, k.c., w. f. taylor, k.c., alfred tobin, k.c., and f. e. smith, k.c., m.p. for fifteen years we had no deputy-chairman of quarter sessions, which made my position somewhat arduous, as i could not absent myself from my post. in the end my old friend, mr. w. scott barrett, the chairman of the county council, was appointed my deputy, and a better selection could not have been made. no part of my judicial work gave me more anxiety than the licensing appeals. one naturally felt great sympathy with the city justices in their desire to reduce the drinking facilities which had been the cause of so much misery and wretchedness in liverpool, but at the same time the scales of justice had to be held evenly. whatever our decisions were, we felt they would meet with severe criticism; but this did not deter us from doing what we considered to be our duty, though we knew that our decisions might involve in many cases serious pecuniary loss and hardship. i am happy to think that our conduct of this very difficult business gave satisfaction, both to the public and to the licensees. my experience on the bench has not been fruitful in incidents, although one day when sitting at petty sessions in the city a lame woman was charged with breaking a window by throwing her crutch through it. the police evidently apprehended that she might use her crutch as a weapon while standing for her trial in the dock, for she had a bad character, and they carefully surrounded her; but she was too clever for them, and managed to hurl her crutch with great force at the bench. fortunately, it fell short and dropped harmlessly upon the clerk's chair, which was happily vacant. at petty sessions in mr. scott barrett sat with me to hear the charge against mrs. maybrick for the murder of her husband by administering arsenic. the enquiry lasted two days and we committed her for trial on the capital charge, feeling no doubt as to our duty, though of course we heard only the evidence for the crown. it afterwards became a _cause celèbre_. mrs. maybrick was condemned to death, but the sentence was commuted to penal servitude. she had many influential friends, and the agitation to obtain her release was continued with great activity for many years. walton jail. in connection with my duties as chairman of the county bench, i also acted as chairman of the visiting justices of the jail at walton. we visited every month, inspected the prison, heard any complaints which the prisoners had to make, sanctioned any extraordinary punishments, and distributed the funds subscribed to assist prisoners upon their discharge. during the ten years of my chairmanship, great reforms were introduced by the prison commissioners. the "treadmill" was abolished; the "cat o' nine tails," which originally was composed of nine strings of hard whipcord, each string having nine knots, was robbed of its terror, each string now being made of soft string without any knots, until, as a warder said to me, "i cannot even warm them up with it." although these changes are all in the right direction, i cannot but think they have gone too far, as among the , prisoners at walton there are many very rough characters, very difficult of control. walton is now a great industrial reformatory, with prison discipline and prison diet. the governor told me he never saw the prisoners work with so much energy as when engaged breaking up the "treadmill"; every prisoner on entrance had to do a month on the "treadmill," whatever his sentence might be, and there is no doubt it was a severe punishment. the only severe punishment now left is solitary confinement, which is a terrible ordeal, and its abolition is now under the consideration of the prison authorities. i must tell one good story. mr. platt, the head of the great engineering firm at oldham, was the high sheriff, and was inspecting the jail, and saw on the "treadmill" one of his workmen; he exclaimed, "thomas, i am sorry to see you here." thomas replied, wiping the beads of perspiration off his brow, "aye, master sam, if they had this 'ere machine in holdham they would work it by steam, wouldn't they?" one day, when visiting the firewood factory, in which we gave temporary employment to discharged prisoners, we directed that about a dozen men should be sent away to seek work, as they had been too long in the factory. the following week there was an outbreak of burglaries in bootle, and the whole crowd were back again in jail. high sheriff of lancashire. the shrievalty of the county palatine has always been esteemed the blue riband of shrievalties. unlike his compeers elsewhere, the lancashire sheriff is specially nominated by the king, whilst the office has always been maintained in circumstances of considerable splendour, and entails upon the sheriff the arduous duty of attending eleven assizes in the year, occupying on an average days. the hospitalities attached to the office are also considerable, for the sheriff has to give a dinner to the grand jury and members of the bar at each assize. much deference has to be paid to the judges of assize, and many points of old-world courtesy and etiquette have to be observed, which add to the interest attaching to the office; and there can be little doubt that the sheriff's turn-out--a coach-and-four, with trumpeters and javelin men in their handsome liveries of dark blue and old gold--serves to impart dignity to the administration of the law, and to impress the multitude with its majesty and power. the high sheriff is the representative of the king, and takes precedence of everyone in the county, except the judges of assize and the lord lieutenant. i was nominated to the office in , and again in , but, there being no one to take my place at quarter sessions, i asked to be excused. it was, however, a position which appealed to me--it seemed to me to be the coping-stone to my long devotion to judicial work--and when i was again nominated in , i accepted, and was duly "pricked" by the king. i appointed the rev. canon armour, d.d., as my chaplain, and my son miles as the under-sheriff. the shire-reve, or high sheriff, was in the old saxon days a position of great authority and power. he not only was the criminal judge of his shire, but also collected the king's exchequer, and the office was one which brought considerable profit to the holder. all this has been changed, the judicial functions and the collection of the king's revenue have long since been transferred to others; but theoretically the sheriff has considerable powers left in his hands--the power of arrest and the charge of the jails in the county, while the empanelling of juries and all legal processes of every kind are made in his name. he is also the returning officer at all elections; this in lancashire involves considerable work, as the sheriff is responsible for parliamentary elections in twenty-three divisions, but fortunately for him, the detail work is discharged by the under-sheriff or acting under-sheriff, of whom in lancashire there are three. at the lancaster assizes in june, , we had an interesting and picturesque ceremony. we drove up in the state carriage to the castle, and were received there by the constable of the castle, mr. dawson, supported by his two retainers, who were dressed in their costume of the fourteenth century. we proceeded into the shire hall, and the constable requested me to hang my coat-of-arms on the walls with those of my predecessors since . having done so the trumpeters sounded a fanfare, and afterwards played "a fine old english gentleman." i then made a short speech, and the constable, with similar ceremony, proceeded to place on the walls the shields of six of his predecessors as constables. the constables go back to the time of john of gaunt. the shields of the sheriffs and constables are grouped under the shields of the various monarchs under whom they served, and make a very brave and interesting show. the shire hall was filled with spectators, and the function was quite mediæval and interesting in character. in july, , his majesty king edward visited lancashire to present the colours to the newly-created territorial army. this was a special compliment to lancashire, which had very nobly responded to the call made upon her and had raised a force of , men. the king and queen stayed at knowsley. in the park , territorials were reviewed; and on the day following their majesties proceeded to worsley park, where a further , were reviewed. the high sheriff being a civil officer, i had nothing to do with these functions as they were military, but we were invited to lunch at knowsley and were then presented to the king and queen, and afterwards at lunch we had the seats of honour, as it appears that when the king is present the high sheriff takes precedence even of the lord lieutenant. it was an interesting function, and in spite of indifferent weather passed off well. one of the pleasantest incidents of the shrievalty is the number of distinguished and interesting people one meets. upon the grand jury we altogether summoned of the leading men of the county, and at our banquets we entertained, in addition to the grand jury, all the official world of the county and many others. during my year i had not only the honour of meeting our late king edward, but king george, who, as prince of wales, was on a visit to knowsley. i had some years ago the honour of escorting king george and the queen over the overhead railway, when i was surprised and gratified with his interest in commerce, and the knowledge he displayed of the trade of the port; and in the somewhat lengthy conversation his majesty honoured me with last year at knowsley, i was still further impressed with his knowledge of liverpool and his interest in the construction and movements of our great atlantic liners. his majesty struck me as being very "human" in his thoughts and sympathies, and ardent in his wish to be in touch with the activities which make for the advance and progress of the country; and i therefore look forward to a reign that will not only be distinguished and brilliant, but in which our king will be found to recognise and encourage by his interest the efforts of his subjects in all that makes for the advancement of the country and the well-being of his subjects. [illustration: "ramleh," east front.] the judges at our spring assizes this year were lord coleridge and mr. justice hamilton. they spent the week-end with us at bromborough. at the winter assizes in november we had mr. justice ridley and mr. justice bray. these assizes will be memorable as having introduced what will be practically continuous sittings in liverpool and manchester of the civil judge. i have been much interested in sitting on the bench during the progress of trials at assizes. it is an education, and one cannot but be impressed with the great care the judges exercise, and with their patience and solicitude for the prisoner. chapter xii. blundellsands, crosby and bromborough. having already described the pretty suburbs of bootle, seaforth and litherland, lying to the north of liverpool, and the little seaside resort, waterloo, as they were in the 'forties and 'fifties, we will now proceed further afield. two miles to the north-west of waterloo the quaint old-fashioned village of crosby stood, with its thatched black and white cottages and its old church built of red brick with its square tower. between crosby and the seashore there were no houses. immediately to the north of waterloo, squire houghton had built a large house (sandheys) surrounded by quite a park, but to the north of this there was only a long stretch of sandhills until hightown lighthouse was reached. about mr. arnold baruchson built a large house on the sea front, which for some years was the only house on the shore, and was the beginning of blundellsands. other large houses followed, lining both sides of burbo bank road. the splendid air and magnificent marine views quickly made blundellsands an attractive place, but it had no roads, only sandy lanes, and the only approach was the circuitous one through crosby. its little iron church nestled in the sand dunes. altogether it was a very quiet, secluded place. we took up our residence at "ramleh" in . shortly afterwards an american friend expressed his surprise that people who could afford to live in the fine houses he saw scattered about should be content to worship god in a "tin" church, as he termed it. this made me think. i called upon the clergyman, the rev. b. s. derbyshire, and put the matter before him, and offered, if he would accompany me, to go round and try to raise money to build a permanent church. our first effort was not very successful, we received promises of only £ , ; but by dint of begging, bazaars, etc., we eventually got together sufficient money to build st. nicholas' church, of which mr. derbyshire was appointed the first incumbent. before the iron church was erected a service was held every sunday by the rev. s. c. armour (now canon armour) in a schoolroom at brighton-le-sands, to which he attracted large congregations by his excellent preaching. in the slight allusion made to blundellsands--my home from to --i have scarcely done justice to its attractions. probably no place in the united kingdom possesses a finer marine prospect. its wide expanse of sea, with its background of the welsh mountains, snowdon standing in the far distance, and in the near foreground the constant parade of great merchant ships and steamers, which pass and repass all the day long, make a picture which for beauty and varying interest it is difficult to surpass. the earl of northbrook, when first lord of the admiralty, stayed with us at "ramleh," and remarked that when he looked out of his bedroom window in the morning he was amazed at the lovely view expanded before him, and could not resist getting up, although it was only seven o'clock, and taking a walk along the terrace in front of the house. at breakfast he told us he knew of no marine view so charming except the bay of naples. of course, it is not possible to compare the two places; each has its points of attractiveness. "ramleh" was a fine, commodious house, on the sea front. we bought it partly built; its completion and the various additions we made gave us much pleasure and delight, and we were greatly attached to it. crosby grammar school. we had in crosby an old school, endowed some three hundred years ago by a crosby boy who made his fortune in london, a part of which he handed to the merchant taylors' company for educational purposes in the village in which he was born. the school was established, the old schoolhouse erected, and it was carried on with varying, but no great success, for over two hundred years. at one time when the merchant taylors came down to inspect it, they found it had been closed for some years, whilst the head-master was living at sefton quietly drawing his salary. within my recollection the scholars numbered only fifteen to twenty, and the head-master frequently adjourned the school in the afternoon to go rat-hunting. but when canon armour was appointed head-master, he at once sought to bring about a change and extend the area of the school's usefulness. the city property belonging to the school had meantime greatly increased in value, and the opportunity appeared favourable to make the school a great middle-class institution. in this i was in hearty accord with canon armour. we called meetings of the inhabitants to promote a petition to the charity commissioners in favour of our project. the vicar of crosby offered very strong opposition on the ground that we were robbing the poor man of his school. in the end we were successful, the present schools were built at a cost of £ , , and were soon filled with pupils, and under canon armour's able guidance quickly took a leading position for scholarship, and became celebrated for the success attained by the pupils at oxford and cambridge. canon armour made this school his life's work, and right well he did it. bromborough. bromborough hall became our residence in . it is a very old house built in , but enlarged several times since, with the result that the exterior, though quaint, is not pleasing--partly georgian and partly an old english homestead; it cannot be said to have been built in any style of architecture. fortunately, the entire south front is wreathed with wisteria, jasmine and clematis, and this makes it harmonise with the charming old dutch garden which stretches out before it. the interior is rambling, but possesses some interesting features. the hall has a stone staircase which winds round the walls as in old georgian houses. it also has a capacious lounge, a minstrel gallery, and a quaint old oak chimney-piece. it opens out into an alcove which forms a very pleasant resort in summer; and beyond again is the dutch garden, which is bright and gay in spring with tulips and in summer with begonias and roses. we have a ghost, which however we have never seen, and a priest's room with a cupboard carved in stone for the chalice and patten. the charms of bromborough hall are the gardens, which cover about thirteen acres and contain probably the most extensive lawns and the largest trees in wirral. the outlook from the grounds across the river mersey is extensive and very lovely. the park is beautifully planted with copses and groups of trees, and being acres in extent, it forms a very attractive feature. we have a walk three miles in length which passes through the woods down to the river, then along the river bank above the red sandstone cliffs, which at this point margin the river, and back through the woods, which form our boundary on the south. [illustration: bromborough hall, garden front.] although the present house dates back only to , a bromborough hall has existed since the year ; this former hall probably stood in the park, as there are clear indications of a moated grange having existed there. the present house was built by a bridgeman, who became chancellor of the diocese, one of his sons becoming bishop of chester, when for a time the hall was the bishop's palace. another son was made lord bradford. the hall afterwards passed into the hands of the mainwaring family, who for years were the squire rectors of the parish. the family is now represented by mr. e. kynaston mainwaring, of oteley park, salop. bromborough was an active village in very remote days. there is strong evidence that the battle of brunaburg was fought in its neighbourhood--this battle was the "waterloo" of anglo-saxon times, and secured the saxon ascendancy in england. the story goes that the danes were encamped at bromborough, and were joined by the five irish kings; and that athelstan, hearing of this, marched out from chester, gave them battle, and utterly defeated them. the queen of mercia afterwards erected a monastery in bromborough as a thank-offering for this victory. this monastery stood for years, but was destroyed in the times of the normans. the old saxon church remained, and was pulled down only in . the runic stone decorations still exist in the gardens of the rectory, and from these archæologists say the church must have been built about a.d. . the two large fields which adjoin bromborough park and run down to the sea are known as the "wargraves," and bishop stubbs, the great historian, stated it to be his opinion that this was the site of the famous battle celebrated in verse by cædmon. bromborough was for centuries the chief market town in the wirral; the village cross around which the market was held still exists, also the manor house in which charles i. stayed after his defeat near chester in . [illustration: the old dutch garden.] chapter xiii. directorships. the overhead railway. the liverpool dock estate margins the lancashire shore of the mersey for six miles, and the offices of the shipowners and merchants, who have their business with the docks, are about the centre. in old days the difficulty of getting to and from the various docks was greatly increased by the crowded state of the adjacent streets. 'buses ran along the dock lines of rails, but having frequently to pull up for traffic they proved a very slow mode of conveyance, but notwithstanding this they carried , , passengers each year. the trade of the port was consequently greatly hindered by the want of rapid communication, and the expenses of the port were increased by the difficulty of moving large bodies of men about. crews were delayed in getting to their ships, and stevedores and master-porters lost the greater part of the day in going from dock to dock. under such circumstances much pressure was brought to bear upon the dock board to construct a railway along the line of docks. in the end they obtained parliamentary powers, but for years they hesitated to proceed with the work. some of us thought the dock board was unduly timid, and we felt that the trade of the port was being seriously hampered. we approached the dock board and offered to find the capital to construct the railway. the dock board agreed to our proposals, subject to terms, and parliament approved of the transfer of these powers to me as representing the directors of the proposed new overhead railway. in we issued a prospectus, the first directors being myself (chairman), richard hobson, harold brocklebank, george robertson, edward lawrence, and james barrow. our capital was subscribed for twice over. we were fortunate in making our contracts for the ironwork, which we purchased at the lowest price ever known. our first intention was to work the line with steam locomotives, but during the course of its construction we very seriously thought out the question of electric traction. there was much to deter us from adopting the new motive power. it had not been tried on a large scale; there were unknown risks and dangers, and the cost of the electric equipment would involve an additional outlay of £ , . nevertheless we eventually decided to adopt electric traction, laying down as a fundamental principle that everything should be of the best, and that we would try as few experiments as possible. we were fortunate in having sir douglas fox and mr. francis fox as our engineers, and mr. cottrell as their local representative. we had many difficulties. the dock board, very foolishly i think, refused to allow us to make our structure strong enough to carry goods traffic. the corporation declined to allow us to carry our line along the foot of st. nicholas' churchyard and through the back goree, and so avoid our unsightly structure crossing st. nicholas' place and destroying one of the most beautiful sites and vistas in liverpool. i have often been upbraided in the council for this; but nobody could have done more than i did to avoid it, and the entire responsibility lies at the door of the health committee, of which mr. hawley was at that time the chairman. neither the dock board nor the corporation was sympathetic to our undertaking. the former called upon us to re-make the entire line of dock railway at a cost of £ , , and the health committee, for the privilege of moving one of our columns a few inches outside our parliamentary limits, required us to re-pave wapping at a cost of £ , . opening by the marquis of salisbury. early in the railway was completed and ready for opening, and the marquis of salisbury, then prime minister, kindly undertook to perform the opening ceremony. the opening was fixed for the rd february. lord salisbury arrived from london the night before, and came direct to my house at blundellsands. we had a large house party to meet him, including the first earl of lathom, sir william cooper, mr. walter long, lord kelvin, and a number of electrical experts. the national telephone company kindly connected the dinner table with the various theatres in manchester and in london, and at ten o'clock each guest took a little receiver from under the cloth and enjoyed listening to the various performances at the theatres, where the pantomimes were still running. the telephone company had laid special direct wires from my house to the trunk wires from liverpool, so that the telephonic communications were very clear and distinct. on a side table was placed a special instrument for lord salisbury, which was connected directly with the house of commons. he went to it, and, taking up the receiver, spoke to mr. sydney herbert, who gave him a report on the progress of the debate on the address. lord salisbury was both surprised and delighted, and said: "i can hear someone talking about uganda." it was the first time the house of commons was ever connected by telephone. the next morning we drove down to the generating station of the overhead, escorted by mounted police. lord salisbury started the engines and then rode in a special train from one end of the line to the other, and afterwards we adjourned to the town hall for luncheon. he was apparently delighted with the function, and said it was a great pleasure to him to meet scientific men. he was very well up in the details of electric traction, and minutely examined every part of our machinery. a few days after he wrote expressing the pleasure the visit had given him. he said:--"i thank you heartily for a very interesting evening and day at the end of last week. i hate political functions, but this was a very different occasion; it was one of the most interesting twenty-four hours i have passed." thus was opened the first full-gauged electric railway in the world, and i am glad to think that electrically it has been an unqualified success and has proved a great benefit to the trade of the port. the railway carried in , , , passengers. it also promised to be a good property for our shareholders. our dividend gradually increased; we had paid per cent. and were well within sight of per cent., when the whole circumstances of our dock traffic were changed by the corporation introducing electricity into the working of their tramway system and extending their lines so as to parallel the overhead railway. we also suffered from the introduction of the telephone and from the substitution of steamers for sailing ships, and of large steamers for small steamers, all tending to reduce the number of men employed about the docks. still i hope and believe there is a future for our little railway, but it is heartbreaking work to run a railway which does not earn a dividend. we have had many important people to visit our railway, affording as it does an excellent view of the docks, and we have always arranged a special train for their conveyance. among others whom i have had the honour of escorting over the line are the present king and queen when prince and princess of wales. our most amusing and difficult visitor was the shahzada of afghanistan. he had no idea of the value of time, and when we arrived at the end of our journey he called for his doctor and then for his apothecary, and it was useless my trying to impress upon his a.d.c. that the whole traffic of the line was being stopped while his highness took a pill. the bank of liverpool. i was elected a director of the bank of liverpool in , and became the chairman in . it was during my chairmanship that the old bank in water street was pulled down and the new bank built, which i had the privilege of opening. i also initiated and conducted the negotiation for the purchase of wakefield crewdsons bank in kendal. the cunard company. i was elected a member of the board of directors of the cunard company in , and found the work of looking after a great and progressive steamship company to be extremely interesting. for two years i was the deputy-chairman. i resigned this position as it required almost continual attendance at the cunard offices, which i could not, with all my other engagements, possibly give. to have been identified with the most forward policy in the shipping world has always been a source of great pride and pleasure to me. a few years after i joined the board we built the "lucania" and "campania," steamers of , tons and , horse-power with a speed of knots. they were in size and in speed a long way ahead of any steamer afloat, and created very general and great interest. at the jubilee naval review in , held in the solent, a small steamer made her appearance. she was little more than a big launch, and was called the "turbinia"; she was propelled by a steam turbine and attained an extraordinary speed. we little thought when we saw this boat rushing about at a great speed that she would create a revolution in the mode of using steam for high-speed vessels. in the germans placed in the atlantic trade several vessels which steamed and ½ knots, which secured for them the blue riband of the atlantic. about the same time the white star fleet and other atlantic lines were bought by an american combine, and it appeared as if the whole atlantic trade was destined to pass into the hands of the germans and americans. the country was much excited at the prospect, and pressure was brought upon the government to assist the cunard company, and thus to preserve to the country the "premier" line of atlantic steamers. the government offered to lend the cunard company the money necessary to build two steamers of ½ knots speed, and to grant to them a subsidy of £ , per annum. these terms being accepted the cunard company had then to determine the style both of boat and engines which would best fulfil the conditions of the contract. engines indicating , and , horse-power were considered necessary for a vessel to attain the guaranteed speed, and this power with reciprocating engines would involve shafting of dangerous size; hence it was decided to appoint a committee of experts to make enquiry as to the working of the "parsons'" turbines in some channel steamers which were already fitted with this new form of engine. after a prolonged consideration the committee reported in favour of turbine engines. meantime, experimental models of hull forms had been made and tested in the tanks belonging to the government, to ascertain the lines which would give the necessary displacement, and be the most easily propelled. it was eventually decided to build ships of feet in length by feet beam, having a gross register of , tons, with turbine engines indicating , horse-power. the order for one of these ships, the "lusitania," was placed on the clyde with messrs. john brown and co., for the other, the "mauretania," with messrs. swan, hunter and co., at newcastle. the planning of the cabins and the furnishing and decorating of these steamers gave us much thought, as we were anxious they should be a distinct advance on anything yet produced. these ships have fully realised all our expectations, the "mauretania" having completed four round trips across the atlantic at an average speed of over knots. on one voyage she averaged over knots on a consumption of , tons of coal per day, and on another voyage she made an average speed out and home of . knots. the "britannia," the first ship of the cunard company, built in , was only , tons, with a speed of ½ knots. vibration. an amusing incident occurred in connection with the building of the "campania." on her engine trial she vibrated excessively, even dangerously, breaking some stanchions and deck plating. it was decided to ask lord kelvin, then sir william thomson, to investigate the cause of the vibration, and i was deputed to attend him upon the necessary trials on the clyde. after several days' trials sir william announced that the vibration would all disappear if the ship was loaded down. three thousand tons of coal were put on board, and a large party of guests were invited for the trial trip. it was arranged that the ship should upon this trip start at a slow speed, at which there was no vibration, and when the guests were seated at lunch the directors were to quietly come on deck and the ship be put at full speed. this was no sooner done than she began to shake from stem to stern so violently that the whole of the guests streamed on deck enquiring what was the matter, and the speed of the ship had to be reduced. the vibration was afterwards cured by following the suggestion of our old scotch engineer and altering the pitch of the screws, so that their revolutions did not synchronise with the vibratory period of the ship. some few years after this event i was invited to dine one sunday evening at balliol college, oxford. after dinner i was taken into an adjoining room to wine by the president, professor cairns, well known as a great philosophical thinker and writer. on passing out of the dining hall a friend whispered to me, "i am sorry for you; the president never utters a word to his guest." we sat at a small table _vis-à-vis_. i tried to draw the president into conversation on several subjects, but failed lamentably. eventually i asked him if he knew lord kelvin. he at once said he was an old friend; whereupon i told him the story of my experience on the "campania." he became quite excited and interested. on my leaving the room my friend, who was a don on the classical side, again came up to me, and asked what we had been talking about. i answered "vibration." he replied, "what is that? i never saw the president so interested and so excited before." castle wemyss. in connection with the building of the "campania," i have a pleasing recollection of a visit to castle wemyss, on the clyde, the residence of the then chairman of the cunard company, mr. john burns. mr. burns took me to call upon his father, sir george burns, who resided at wemyss house. he was then a very old man, over years of age, and as he lay upon his bed he looked very picturesque, with his handsome aquiline features and his snow-white locks resting upon the pillow. he told me with evident pride of the early days of the cunard company, of which he was one of the founders, the others being mr. cunard of halifax, mr. charles maciver of liverpool, and his brother mr. david maciver; and he narrated his recollections of the old sailing brigs which used to convey the mails to halifax, before the days of steamships. sir george died soon after my visit, and was succeeded in his baronetcy by his son, mr. john burns, who at the diamond jubilee of the queen, in , was created a peer (lord inverclyde). he died in , and was succeeded by his son george, who died in , after holding the title only a few years, and was succeeded by his brother james, the present peer. the second lord inverclyde, who was also chairman of the cunard company, was a man of conspicuous ability, with a big grasp of affairs. it was he who carried through the agreement with the government, which resulted in the building of the "mauretania" and "lusitania." during these negotiations he displayed so much energy, tact, and knowledge of shipping, that had he lived he was marked out for high position in the government. it has been my privilege during the twenty-two years i have been a director of the cunard company, to serve under five chairmen--the first lord inverclyde, mr. jardine, the second lord inverclyde, mr. watson, and mr. booth. the liverpool and mediterranean trade. sir george burns' reference to the making of the cunard company brings to my mind the story told by my father-in-law, william miles moss, of the beginnings of the mediterranean steamship trade, which has made for liverpool people so many great fortunes. he said that his firm, james moss and co., vianna chapple and co., and john bibby and sons, were engaged in the mediterranean trade, which they conducted with sailing schooners and brigs. in he thought the time had arrived to replace these by steamers, and his firm chartered a paddle steamer, which traded to the isle of man, for an experimental voyage to the mediterranean. she made a most successful voyage to genoa, leghorn, etc., and he was so encouraged that he made a contract to build a screw steamer for the egyptian trade to cost £ , . mr. moss invited the heads of the firms i have named to dinner at his house, in lower breck road, and told them what he had done, and asked them to take shares in his new venture, and then passed a paper round the table that they might write down the interest they were willing to take. it was returned to him with only £ , subscribed. he said, "i told them they were a shabby lot, and that i would take the balance." this was the first steamer built to trade between liverpool and alexandria. mr. moss was a very shrewd, long-sighted man, and for years was the moving spirit in the mediterranean steamship trade, being largely interested in bibby's as well as being the principal owner of the fleet of james moss and co. he was for many years a member of the dock board, in which he was followed by his son and his grandson. the white star line. the "making" of the white star line must always remain an interesting incident in the history of our commerce. in the 'sixties the atlantic trade was in the hands of the cunard, the inman, the national, and the guion companies. at this time the bibby line of mediterranean steamers had been most successful. one of the principal owners in these steamers was mr. schwabe, whose nephew, mr. wolff, had just started in business as a shipbuilder in belfast, in partnership with mr. harland. mr. t. h. ismay had recently formed a partnership with mr. william imrie, and had taken over the business of the white star line, then engaged in owning sailing ships employed in the australian trade. the story at the time was that during a game of billiards at mr. schwabe's house, in west derby, mr. schwabe proposed to mr. imrie that his firm should start another line of steamers to new york, adopting as their type the models which had proved so very profitable in the mediterranean trade, and offered if they were built by messrs. harland and wolff to find the greater part of the capital. the scheme thus inaugurated quickly took shape. mr. g. h. fletcher associated himself with the project, and the first white star steamer, the "oceanic," was built, followed quickly by the "celtic," "baltic," "germanic," and "britannic." the steamers were the first vessels constructed with their cabin accommodation amidships, where there is the least motion and vibration. this proved a very attractive feature. mr. ismay also took a personal interest in studying the comfort of the travellers by his line, which quickly became very popular. mr. ismay lived to see the début of his masterpiece, the "oceanic," the second of this name, but had passed away in before the white star line became a part of the great american steamship combine. mr. t. h. ismay. mr. ismay was a remarkable man. he was of a very retiring disposition, but had great strength of character, with an aptitude for organisation, he was able to select good men to assist him, and to obtain from them the best of their work. mr. ismay was one of the ablest men of my time. he declined all honours, and found his pleasure in surrounding himself with beautiful pictures and _objets d'art_ in his home at dawpool, and he was not unmindful of others, for he founded the seamen's pension fund, to which he was a large contributor. to commemorate the jubilee of queen victoria in , and her majesty's diamond jubilee in , grand reviews of the fleet took place at spithead. mr. ismay invited a large party of his liverpool friends on board the "teutonic" on both of the occasions to see the reviews. at spithead the "teutonic" was joined by a large and very distinguished company from london, comprising many of her majesty's ministers, the leaders of the opposition, and men renowned in literature, science and art. at the first review the german emperor and the prince of wales came on board, and spent some time inspecting the ship, and especially her armament. other atlantic liners had on board the members of the house of lords and the house of commons. these reviews were very successful, the great array of battleships being imposing and impressive, although we could not avoid remarking their small size compared with the "teutonic," "campania," and other liners present. the "teutonic's" trips will be for long remembered for the munificent manner in which mr. ismay entertained his guests, and the perfection of all the arrangements. sir alfred jones, k.c.m.g. the late sir alfred jones is another of our great shipowners whose career conveys many striking lessons. enthusiastic about everything he put his hand to, intense in his application to work, and resourceful in finding out the ways and means to success, he had one fault not uncommon in forceful men--he had not the power of delegation. he would do everything himself, and the strain was more than even his robust nature could stand. on my asking him a few weeks before he died why he did not take a partner, he replied: "i will do so when i can find a man as intense as myself." as indicating his resourcefulness, when he found bananas were not selling freely in liverpool, he brought down a number of hawkers from london with their barrows and peddled his fruit about the streets. on my suggesting to him that he would make nothing of jamaica, on account of the lazy habits of the negro, he replied: "i will change all that. i will send out a lot of scotchmen." when he travelled to london he was always accompanied by two clerks, to whom he dictated letters _en route_. every moment of his time was filled up, he told me: "my work is done on a time table. a certain hour each day i devote to my steamers, another to my oil-mills, another to my hotels, and so on." sir alfred jones' name will, however, ever dwell with us as the founder and most active supporter of the liverpool school of tropical medicine, which has destroyed the ravages of yellow fever and made the malarial and waste places of the world habitable. chapter xiv. the churches. in my young days eloquent preachers were still much in the fashion, and attracted large congregations, but the building of churches and appointing to them preachers of eminence as a financial speculation had happily ceased. the church in liverpool was largely recruited from ireland, and we had certainly many able men, who were not only eloquent but whose discourses were also very lengthy. the hearing of sermons was not merely an act of devotion but a form of religious entertainment and enjoyment, and a short discourse would not have been appreciated. i remember one very eloquent divine, to whose church it was impossible to obtain admission unless you were at the door a quarter of an hour before the service commenced, being when advanced in years removed to another church. he continued to preach the same sermons with much of his old fire and vigour, but he emptied the church, for people would no longer tolerate fifty minutes every sunday of the old fashioned controversial discourse. we had in those days many eminent divines, dr. lowe at st. jude's, dr. taylor at st. silas', dr. falloon at st. bride's, and mr. ewbank at everton, and most eloquent of all, dr. macneile at st. paul's, prince's park. he was a great power, both in the pulpit and the platform, and in the press. clergy and laity, rich and poor, were stirred by his eloquent appeals. i never heard him preach, but his speeches to the boys at the collegiate on our prize days still linger in my memory as marvels of eloquence. his presence was very dignified, and he was stately in manner. he had a profusion of snow-white hair, which added impressiveness and solemnity to his handsome appearance. he wielded a giant's strength in debate, and some thought he used his power without mercy. he died in at the age of . in the 'seventies dr. forest, who afterwards became dean of worcester, mr. lefroy, afterwards dean of norwich, and the rev. nevison loraine, were among our most prominent and eloquent divines; nor must i forget the rev. john macnaught, of st. chrysostom's, our first broad churchman, earnest, eloquent, and courageous, but looked upon with much misgiving and some suspicion. the bishops of chester were unable to devote much of their time to the liverpool portion of their diocese. the result was that the leaders of the evangelical party became little autocrats in their way. under these conditions church life became dormant, and the church narrow and formal, and wanting in spirituality. her liturgy and the devotional part of her services were sacrificed, and made secondary to preaching. this was the state of things in , when the see of liverpool was founded. two great influences were, however, quietly operating in the church. the school of the oxford tract writers gave prominence to the sacramental system and corporate powers of the church, which enlisted a new class of energies in her service, and the publication of _essays and reviews_, although they gave a temporary shock to church people, was productive of good, by broadening the theological outlook, and inviting that higher criticism which quickened more interest in the truths of the bible, and deepened the reverence for the wider conception of the love of god. dr. ryle, our first bishop, was a recognised leader of the evangelical party, and a prolific writer of church tracts. he was an able preacher, a good platform speaker after the old-fashioned pattern, and had a very imposing and apostolic presence. dr. ryle's work as our first bishop was a difficult and arduous one. he tried to be fair and just to all parties in the church, but he was urged by some of his evangelical followers to take action in restraint of the high church practices which prevailed in some churches, and to give his episcopal sanction to the prosecution of the rev. j. bell-cox. he consented with reluctance. the bishop at this time frequently came to my house and i know how unhappy he was at this juncture; not that he in any way sympathised with the practices sought to be checked--they were most repugnant to him--but he appreciated the self-sacrificing work of the high church clergy, and thought that other and gentler means and methods might be adopted to bring about the desired result. in his later years his lordship's ecclesiastical views became broader and more liberal. in face of many difficulties he did an excellent and most successful work in building churches and schools. beneath an apparently haughty manner he had a big and kind heart, and those who were privileged to know him best loved him most. i am sometimes asked are church people as good and zealous as in the days gone by. i think they are more so. they are more devout, more earnest, more spiritual. they may be less emotional and do not crowd the churches to hear sermons, but they are to be found in their hundreds at the lord's supper. the church, which was formerly locked up all week, is now open for daily prayer. the holy communion, which was only administered on the first sunday in the month, is now administered every sunday, and frequently twice in the day. strong language and swearing are less frequently heard, and there is in life a diffusion of light and sweetness, which can only come from the influence of holy things and the power of love which has taken a stronger possession of our thoughts and actions. the church is broader, has a wider mission, and it stands upon a higher pinnacle in men's minds. we recognise that men are differently moulded in temperament and thought, that a national church must within limits provide the means of worship suitable to all; and that while the simple conventicle may to some present the most suitable temple of god, others are happier if their prayers are winged to his throne amid beautiful surroundings and to the sound of choral music. the nonconformists have always been active in liverpool, and have had many able ministers. the most influential of these churches has always been the unitarian. i remember dr. martineau only as a name, but the rev. charles beard i knew and greatly esteemed. he was a power for good in liverpool, and much of the uplifting and purifying of liverpool in the 'seventies was due to his influence. he had powerful supporters amongst his congregation in renshaw street chapel: the holts, the rathbones, gairs, mellys, gaskells, thornleys, etc. it has often been said that our university had its birth in renshaw street chapel. it certainly found there its warmest and most active supporters. hugh stowell brown was another bright light among the nonconformists, a robust and rugged preacher, who did not neglect his opportunities of advocating higher ideals of civic life and duty. the rev. c. m. birrell, of pembroke chapel, was stately in figure and highly cultured; he won the respect and esteem of all christian communities. the rev. charles garrett was a power in liverpool and the country, as the great apostle of temperance. in the roman catholic church there is one remarkable outstanding figure, monsignor nugent, or as he preferred to be known, father nugent: priest, philanthropist, and friend of all, but particularly of the outcast boy and fallen woman. i could write pages of this worthy priest's great goodness, his big heart, his wide and tender sympathies, and his work among the wreckage of society. his memory will linger with us as an incentive to all that is noble, all that is loving and tender. we must not forget the many laymen who have helped forward church work in liverpool: charles langton, charles grayson, christopher bushell, hamilton gilmour, charles groves, the builder of churches; clarke aspinall, who spent all his leisure in assisting the clergy in their church and temperance work; and the earle family. among the nonconformists we had w. p. lockart, a merchant and an ex-cricketer, who took up evangelistic work in toxteth park, and exercised a wide and great influence among young men. i have elsewhere mentioned the rev. dr. lundie, and his influence upon the temperance movement; and i must not omit alexander balfour, samuel smith, and thomas mathieson, all prominent and most active lay nonconformists. to the active efforts of our clergy we owe much of the improvement in the social condition of our working classes. their exertions on behalf of temperance are worthy of all praise; in training the young in habits of self-control and self-respect, they are saving the child and making the man who is to control the future destinies of the empire. the building of a cathedral. the see of liverpool was founded in . there was little difficulty in raising the endowment fund, thanks to the personal exertions of mr. torr, m.p., and mr. arthur forwood, but the selection of a bishop was a matter for grave thought. liverpool contained many low churchmen and many orangemen, and it was also recognised that the high churchmen had done most excellent work. the views of the evangelical party, however, prevailed, and lord sandon and mr. whitley were instructed to use every influence with lord beaconsfield to secure the appointment of an evangelical churchman. in this they were successful. lord beaconsfield appointed dr. ryle, whom he had but recently created a dean, as the first bishop of liverpool. the proposal to erect a cathedral was first made in . a committee was formed; a site on the west side of st. george's hall--where st. john's church stood--was selected, and a design by sir william emerson was approved by mr. ewan christian, the architectural assessor. i was appointed one of the treasurers to the fund, and at once began an active canvass for donations. there was, however, a great lack of enthusiasm; many objected to the site chosen, and the bishop did not help the cause, for though he was in a way anxious that a cathedral should be built, he freely expressed his opinion, both in public and in private, that additional churches and mission halls would be more useful. we received promises of only £ , , and then we had to allow the scheme to drop, for it was quite impossible to make further headway. i think the bishop was disappointed. he was an earnest, good man, and during his episcopate great progress was made in church building in the diocese, but in his heart i do not think he was ever enthusiastic in favour of the cathedral scheme. no further steps were taken towards the erection of a cathedral during the episcopate of dr. ryle. when his successor, dr. chavasse, had been consecrated bishop the scheme took shape again, and shortly after he had been installed at his suggestion a small committee was formed to formulate a proposal. the bishop was good enough to ask me to become the treasurer. i had so ignominiously failed in my first attempt to collect money that i declined, but his lordship was very pressing, and after thinking the matter well over i said i would make an attempt to start a fund, provided no site was selected and no general committee formed until we had received sufficient promises to make the scheme a success; and i added that if my conditions were accepted i would give up all other work for six weeks and devote myself to working up a cathedral fund. i made those conditions because i found on my previous effort the selection of a site and a design was a serious hindrance, as they afforded reasons and excuses for not giving. the bishop agreed to this proposal. i wrote six or eight begging letters every night and followed them by a call on the day following, and i wrote a series of articles in the daily press, and managed to arouse a considerable amount of interest and enthusiasm in our scheme. we started our list with a handsome donation of £ , each from lord derby, sir alfred jones, and others. canvassing was hard work, but liverpool people were very good and very generous. in my daily rounds i met with much kindness, but with some disappointments. only one man, whose father made his millions in liverpool as a steamship owner, was rude and unpleasant, but even he in the end relieved his conscience by sending in a small donation. at the close of six weeks' work i was able to announce to the bishop's committee that we had promises amounting to £ , . we did not, however, stop at this. the ball was rolling and must be kept rolling, and before we called a halt we had promises in meal or malt amounting to £ , . in this amount are included special donations for windows, organ, etc. the earle and langton families most liberally gave £ , towards the cost of the lady chapel, and ladies of old liverpool families were most generous in their contributions. this success would have been impossible of achievement if it had not been for the wonderful influence of the bishop. everyone recognised his saintly character, his arduous work, and the statesmanlike manner in which he ruled over his diocese. perhaps the bishop's strongest point in dealing with men is his power of "enthusing" others. he always looks upwards, and in the darkest days is full of brightness and words of encouragement. the next step was the selection of a site, and this aroused considerable discussion. there were many advocates for what was known as the london road site, at the junction of that thoroughfare and pembroke place, a very commanding position; but as the cost of the site alone would have been £ , it was placed on one side. the sites of st. peter's and st. luke's were considered and pronounced too small. eventually st. james' mount was decided upon as being central and commanding, and having picturesque surroundings. the fourteen acres comprising the mount were purchased from the corporation for £ , . it was decided to advertise for designs and give premiums for the two best, and mr. norman shaw, r.a., and mr. bodley, r.a., were appointed assessors. many designs were sent in and exhibited at the walker art gallery. from these the assessors selected the design of mr. gilbert scott, a young man of only , a grandson of the great gothic architect, sir gilbert scott, r.a. it was a design which did not commend itself entirely to the committee, and mr. scott being a roman catholic it was feared some objection might be taken, and the committee very wisely decided to link mr. bodley, r.a., with mr. scott as joint architects--a very happy combination, for while we secured the genius of mr. scott, we also secured the ripe experience and exquisite taste of mr. bodley. we elected the earl of derby as our president, and i was made the chairman of the executive committee, a position of much honour and of absorbing interest, but involving considerable responsibility. we were fortunate in having on the committee mr. arthur earle, who has rendered yeoman service both in collecting funds and finding donors of the windows. we have also received great assistance from mr. robert gladstone, the deputy-chairman, and mr. f. m. radcliffe. we had some difficulty with our foundations, as part of the mount was made-ground, and the rock when we reached it was very friable. the consequence was that on the east side we had to go down forty, and even fifty feet before we obtained a satisfactory foundation. the foundations for the choir, lady chapel, vestries, and chapter house cost £ , . foundation-stone laid by the king. it was decided to invite the king and queen to lay the foundation-stone, as it was the only cathedral likely to be built in this century. the king graciously consented, and fixed the afternoon of july th, , for the ceremony, the arrangement being that he was to come down from london in the morning, lunch with the lord mayor at the town hall, and afterwards lay the foundation-stone; and on the conclusion of the ceremony embark upon the royal yacht in the river to proceed to cardiff, _en route_ to open the waterworks constructed in south wales for the supply of birmingham. the arrangements for the foundation-stone laying required much thought, as my experience has taught me that "functions" are successful only if every detail is well thought out beforehand. around the foundation-stone a huge amphitheatre of wood was constructed capable of seating , persons, and in the centre we erected an ornamental dais upon which the king and queen were received and where they stood during the religious service; and in front of the dais, about thirty feet away, the foundation-stone stood ready for lifting and laying. we also formed a choir of , voices to take the musical part of the service, led by the band of the coldstream guards. the day was beautifully fine and the city splendidly decorated, quite a royal day. lord derby and the high sheriff met their majesties on their arrival at lime street station, when presentations were made to their majesties. the king was in the uniform of an admiral of the fleet; lord derby appeared as lord-lieutenant, and uniforms and court dress were worn by the guests. their majesties proceeded from the station to the town hall, where a very select company was assembled. after luncheon the king knighted the lord mayor, who became sir robert hampson. at lord derby's request i proceeded to the site to receive their majesties on their arrival, and afterwards had the honour of presenting the architects and the members of the committee. the service was conducted by the archbishop of york and the bishops of liverpool and chester. it was grand and majestic, worthy of the occasion. most of the bishops of the northern province were present in their robes, and also about of the clergy. at the conclusion of the service the king expressed to me his great satisfaction, and the queen did the same, adding that the music was beautifully rendered. everything passed off well, but during the service heavy banks of clouds began to gather, and the royal party had scarcely left the site when the rain fell. [illustration: the lady chapel, liverpool cathedral.] consecration of the lady chapel. the consecration of the lady chapel took place on wednesday, th june, , st. peter's day, and was a most imposing and impressive ceremony. the lord bishop conducted the service, the archbishop of york preached the sermon, and they were supported by the archbishop of dublin and twenty-four other bishops, all wearing their convocation robes. there was a large assembly, the difficulty being to accommodate all who wished for seats. the bishops' procession was formed in the vestries, and was composed of the chapter and clergy, the cathedral choir, the bishops and their chaplains, the bishop of the diocese, and the archbishop of york. the procession marched round the chapel through the street to the door of the lady chapel, the choir singing an appropriate anthem. arriving at the door, after the recital of some prayers, the bishop knocked, demanding admission. upon entering the church, the earl of derby, the president, in his chancellor's robes, and attended by mr. arthur earle, mr. gladstone, mr. radcliffe, sir robert hampson, and myself, as the chairman, advanced and handed the bishop a request that he would consecrate the chapel, and also a deed conveying the chapel and its site to the bishop and the chapter. the procession then proceeded to their places in the choir, and the service commenced, the musical part being beautifully rendered by the choir, mr. burstall presiding at the organ. the service was interesting and quaint, especially the blessing by the different bishops of the various votive offerings. the archbishop preached a most eloquent sermon, taking as his text: habakkuk nd chapter, th verse, "the lord is in his holy temple: let the whole earth keep silence." the consecration was followed by a luncheon at the town hall. an octave of special services was held in the chapel in the following week, at which several bishops preached. this is not the place to describe the architectural features of the lady chapel, but it seems to have won the admiration of all by its charming proportions, its chaste but rich beauty, and its quiet, devotional feeling. the gifts to the chapel by the earle and langton families were both numerous and costly; and of the total cost of the chapel, about £ , , these families generously contributed nearly one-half. their offerings were supplemented by those of other friends, so that the chapel when opened was complete in every detail, and with every accessory. to the dowager countess of derby and her committee of lady workers, with miss stolterfoht as secretary, we are indebted for the beautiful embroideries which do so much for the adornment and enrichment of the choir. we launched this first and great instalment of the cathedral "in humble thankfulness to almighty god that he has prospered our handiwork, and pray that in this holy and beautiful house prayer and praise may be ever offered unto him; that he will assist with his blessing our effort to complete the cathedral for his glory; that he will endue with wisdom the heads that guide, preserve from evil the hands that work, provide the silver and gold, and carry to a glorious completion the building thus begun." york house of convocation. in the lord bishop was good enough to nominate me as a member of convocation. we met at york once each year, when the clergy held their meetings within the precincts of the cathedral, and the laymen in a temperance hall. our debates were purely academical and bore no fruit, and no notice was taken of us by the archbishop or the cathedral authorities. if the clergy and laity were to meet together, convocation would have a reality and a value, for if nothing should come of their public discussions they would at least get to know each other, and an interchange of ideas could not be otherwise than advantageous to both. under the rule of archbishop lang i have no doubt convocation will become a very valuable institution. church congress. the opportunity was afforded me to take part in several meetings of the church congress. at some i read papers and at others i was a special speaker. the most interesting congress was the one held in exeter in , when i was the guest of bishop bickersteth, at the palace. the other guests at the palace were dr. temple, then bishop of london; dr. wordsworth, bishop of salisbury; dr. gott, bishop of truro; and lord cross. we were all much interested with the rugged intellectual power of the bishop of london. his epigrammatic utterances interjected into our after-dinner talk were full of wisdom, and often bubbled over with quiet, quaint humour. many stories were told of the bishop when he was the bishop of exeter; of the kindness which was concealed under his brusque, outspoken manner, and his remarkable influence for good. he delivered at exeter a striking and very forcible address upon temperance. his eyesight was already very defective and mrs. temple had to lead him about. to the surprise of everybody he not only became archbishop of canterbury, but will also be remembered as one of our great archbishops. new york cathedral. when in new york i had the opportunity of visiting their cathedral, the construction of which had been recently commenced. the clerk of the works took me into a room to show me the model of the cathedral, and he also showed me a list of cathedrals with their principal dimensions. at the foot of the list came the new york cathedral, the largest of all. i said to him, "you have forgotten one cathedral, the liverpool cathedral." he replied, "so i have; where will it come?" i told him to put it at the bottom. he looked at me for a few moments in evident surprise, and said, "is it to be larger than new york?" and on my answering "yes" he replied, "oh, we will make that all right; we will add another bay to our nave." i thought this was truly american, a determination not to be beaten. chapter xv. philanthropy, charitable and social work. in no department of liverpool life has more distinct progress been made than in its social regeneration. liverpool was always liberal and generous in her charities, but there was an absence of enlightenment in her municipal administration, and an utter failure to realise the social degradation in which so many of her people lived; her streets in the 'sixties were not fit places for respectable people after dark, while the neighbourhood of the sailors' home at all times of the day was a place to be avoided. liverpool was known as the "black spot" on the mersey, and well earned that title. it is difficult to make people sober or moral by act of parliament, and the liverpool people did not wait for parliament, but aroused and set in motion a strong public opinion, which demanded radical social changes. the town had been flooded with licensed public-houses at a time when mr. j. r. jeffery, mr. robertson gladstone, and other justices advocated the free license system, and the increased competition in the sale of drink had led to many evils. the justices thought that by extending licences they would do away with what was called the "gin palace," as it would no longer be worth the publican's while to invest large sums of money to make his house attractive and alluring. the multiplicity of licences, however, increased intemperance to such an extent that in things were so bad that the _times_ commented on the dreadful moral condition of liverpool, and its unparalleled death-rate, as indicating that "the leading inhabitants were negligent of their duties as citizens." the public conscience was aroused, and a band of very earnest temperance men, headed by mr. alexander balfour, the rev. dr. lundie, and mr. sam. smith began a crusade against the licensing justices and the watch committee, whom they considered to be sympathetic with the drink "trade," and a vigilance committee was formed. the struggle was a long and fierce one, but great reforms have taken place. the streets of liverpool have been purified, and the temptations to drink have been largely reduced. the name of alexander balfour will ever stand out prominently as the chief of this movement, in the days when strong men were wanted to lead, and in these latter days sir thomas hughes is entitled to much credit for the firm and consistent manner he has ruled over the licensing bench. liverpool now breathes freely, and is no longer "the black spot" on the mersey. throughout this long and angry controversy the conservative party occupied a difficult position. many of its most active supporters were connected with what is termed the "trade," they were endeavouring to conduct a very difficult business respectably, and in conformity with the licensing laws, they have also been called upon to make large sacrifices. the conservative party were always sympathetic with the "trade," and felt that the measures meted out to them were unduly harsh, but have always recognised that something heroic must be done to win back the city's good name. it is regrettable that a great and much-needed social reform should have become so much mixed up with party politics, but under the circumstances it was perhaps unavoidable. the reforms which have taken place owe much of their success to our press. _porcupine_ in the 'seventies, under the editorship of hugh shimmin, was their active and strong advocate; and more recently the _daily post_ under the direction of sir edward russell, has also done good service, and sad to say, both editors had to appear in the law court to vindicate their actions. while this movement to exercise increased supervision over public-houses and to diminish their number was in progress, the city council was actively engaged in the problem of not merely demolishing insanitary property, but of replacing the rookeries thus destroyed by suitable and well designed houses. this new policy began in , when the group of dwellings known as victoria square was erected. this good work has proceeded rapidly, and the corporation has already expended considerably over £ , , in this direction. perhaps no one obtains such a full insight into the charitable and philanthropic work of the city as the lord mayor. he is called upon to preside over annual meetings of some ninety of our charities, and is brought into close contact with the many smaller societies, doing what they can for bettering and brightening the lives of the people. whatever may have been the shortcomings of liverpool in other respects, her people have always liberally supported her charities, and these have been far-reaching and generous in the benefits they have conferred upon the community. in the wide realm of philanthropy liverpool has had many active workers, for the most part unknown to fame, who plod away day after day in our slums, with no prospect of reward, save the satisfaction of doing something to ameliorate and brighten the lives of others. recently a short paragraph in a newspaper told us of the death of a clergyman who had a distinguished university career, and who for twenty-four years lived and worked unknown in the by-ways of liverpool, attached to no church, but doing what he could to uplift those around about him--and there are many such. among our workers in the good cause of philanthropy we have had mr. edward whitley, m.p., mr. clarke aspinall, mr. christopher bushell, mr. william rathbone, m.p., mr. william crosfield, mr. charles langton, canon major lester, and monsignor nugent. mr. william rathbone was not only an ideal local member of parliament, but for more than half a century he was foremost in every good work in liverpool. as a member of the select vestry he made the poor laws a special subject of study. in the founding of our university, and the district nursing association (the first in the country) mr. rathbone rendered a great service. mr. christopher bushell was another leader of men; tall and dignified in appearance and a good speaker, he was active in the cause of philanthropy in support of the church and of education. nor must we forget the many ladies who have devoted their energies to charitable and philanthropic work. miss calder has accomplished great things for the school of cookery, and we have miss melly and miss rathbone working for the kyrle society. the late countess of lathom was ever ready with her handsome and distinguished presence and eloquent voice to help forward every good work. only a few months before she met with her sad and tragic death she said to me, "when i am gone you must write as my epitaph, 'she opened bazaars.'" liverpool has had few friends more devoted or more capable than the late lady lathom. chapter xvi. the seamen's orphanage, etc. on the death of mr. alfred turner in , i was made president of the seamen's orphanage. the detail work of the institution is carried on by the chairman of the committee. the first chairman was mr. robert allan, whose devotion to the interests of the institution was beyond all praise. on his retirement his place was filled by mr. j. h. beazley, one of the sons of the founder, the late james beazley. no institution in the city of liverpool is doing a better or a nobler work. we can all realise how much our safety, and how greatly our prosperity as a nation, depend upon our sailors, yet we scarcely appreciate how little chance a sailor has of saving money for a rainy day, and how entirely dependent his widow and family generally are upon public support. the institution is worked upon right lines; a high moral and religious tone is inculcated, and the children are brought up to be good christian boys and girls and to take a pride in their school. i do not know anything more refreshing than to visit the school, with its hundreds of bright, joyous children, all so glad to make you welcome with their cheery "good morning, sir!" our anniversary sunday is a red-letter day in the institution, the sermon being preached by a bishop. after the service an inspection of the institution is made. it has been my privilege to entertain the bishops during their visit, and we have had staying with us the bishops of carlisle, hereford, bangor, sodor and man, manchester, and the archbishop of york. the royal commission on motors. the advent of the motor vehicle, driven by an internal combustion engine, was remarkable for its suddenness and its rapid development. the motor was only in the experimental stage in , yet four years later several thousand were on the roads, and this number increased in another five years to , . that vehicles should be driven along the public highways at thirty and forty, and even fifty miles an hour, was subversive of all ideas of what was prudent and safe, and when these vehicles set up clouds of dust in their progress, there was a public outcry. this was fully justified, for the speed at which motors were driven was undoubtedly excessive. on the other hand, the public did not realise the complete control which the drivers could exercise, even at high speeds. the government, in response to the popular demand in , appointed a royal commission on motors, of which i was nominated a member. viscount selby was appointed the chairman, and the other members were the marquis of winchester, sir edward henry, chief of the metropolitan police, sir david harrel, k.c.b., and mr. munroe, c.b., of the local government board. we held about fifty sittings, extending over a year, and examined over sixty witnesses, representing the highway authorities, the various motor clubs and manufacturers, and a large number of persons who were opposed to the use of motors on the high roads, unless limited to a low rate of speed. the enquiry was interesting and instructive. it brought out the fact that much as many people object to motors, they one and all agreed that they had come to stay. it was also proved that since railways had withdrawn the heavy traffic from the highways, the roads had been allowed to fall into poor condition, and to this could be attributed some part of the complaints as to dust. i was personally in favour of limiting the speed to twenty-five miles an hour in the open and ten miles through towns and villages; but as all the other members of the commission felt that in the open country we should rely upon the powers of the present highway act, which makes it a serious offence to drive at a speed causing danger to the public, and were in favour of a no-speed limit, except through villages, i gave way so that our report might be a unanimous report. we made a long list of recommendations for the better regulation of motor traffic. i am glad to say our report was well received, and although no bill has been introduced to give legal force to its recommendations, they are being very generally acted upon. i have often since regretted that i did not press my recommendation restricting the speed in the open to twenty-five miles an hour, as i feel it would have largely solved the speed question. the powers under the highway act would still have remained, compelling motorists to drive at all times with due regard to public safety. chapter xvii. the earl of derby. appointments to the county bench. i was brought into such frequent contact with the late lord derby, in connection with my duties as chairman of quarter sessions, that i should like to add a few words of appreciation of his lordship's great kindness and consideration. i must, however, in order to make my story quite clear, preface my remarks by a reference to the late earl of sefton, who was the lord lieutenant of lancashire for so many years. lord sefton in his appointments to the bench, took an infinite amount of trouble to select good men, and men who when appointed would do their work. he was good enough frequently to consult me, and i certainly did my best to support him in his choice of suitable men for the office of magistrate, which i hold to be a position of importance and responsibility. it is not generally recognised that magistrates are endowed with very great power over the liberties of the people, and they ought therefore to be selected with great care. two magistrates sitting at petty sessions have in a sense more power than a judge sitting at an assize. they not only determine the guilt of the prisoner, but can and do impose considerable terms of imprisonment. at the assizes the jury decide if the prisoner is guilty, the judge only awards the punishment. lord sefton unfortunately made a mistake in some of his appointments to the salford division. he was, however, entirely free from blame. erroneous information was given to him, and he made, quite unawares, some political appointments. he added to the bench the names of several conservative politicians, which gave great offence to the liberal government then in power. mr. bryce, then chancellor of the duchy, wished to rectify the mistake by insisting upon lord sefton appointing a number of active liberals. this he declined to do, and it led to a deadlock. lord sefton threatened to resign, and would have done so had we not been able to build a bridge over which both he and the chancellor were able to retire without loss of dignity. i was much helped in these negotiations by my friend, the late mr. robert d. holt. upon lord sefton's death lord derby was appointed the lord lieutenant. naturally a timid man, he was very anxious to avoid the mistake made by his predecessor, and for several years he created no new magistrates in some petty sessional divisions, and the administration of justice was rendered most difficult through the lack of justices. i was at this time frequently at knowsley, and spent hours in going over lists of names with his lordship, and always came away with a promise that some appointments should be made forthwith, but still he hesitated. it was quite impossible to feel disappointed. lord derby was always so courteous and kind, and one could not help feeling that his hesitation arose from his extreme conscientiousness and high sense of duty, and also one could not fail to recognise that his task was delicate and difficult. when the liberal government came into office in , they set about to adjust the inequality between the political parties as represented on the bench, and the lord chancellor practically made all the appointments, the lord lieutenant merely confirming. under this arrangement the bench in lancashire has been greatly increased, but i doubt if its status has been maintained. lord and lady derby from time to time extended great kindness to us, lady derby frequently inviting us to dine and sleep at knowsley, to meet her distinguished guests. in this way we had the opportunity of meeting the prince and princess of wales, the lord chancellor (lord halsbury), the prime minister (mr. balfour), and others. the hospitality of knowsley is proverbial, lord and lady derby were ideal host and hostess, and we have paid no pleasanter visits than those to knowsley. when lord derby was elected lord mayor of liverpool i was asked to act as his deputy, as it was not expected that his lordship would do more than the formal and official work. for some time i called at the town hall every morning to see if i could be of any service, but i quickly discovered that lord derby was not going to discharge his duties in a perfunctory manner, and my services were required very little. i remember on one of my visits his lordship telling me his horse was the favourite for the oaks, which was to be run on the day following. i begged him to go up to see the race, but he replied his first duty was at the town hall. the race was run, and lord derby's horse won. i often narrated this episode as a proof of his lordship's devotion to his duties, and once in his presence, when he intervened and said: "do not give me too much credit; i must confess the temptation to see my horse win was too strong for me. i went up by the midnight train, and returned by the first train after the race." lord derby proved a most excellent lord mayor, and the debates in the council were never before--and have never since been--conducted with so much decorum and dignity. the hospitality of the town hall was maintained on a splendid scale. lady derby took a keen personal interest in all the arrangements, and her own charming personality contributed greatly to the popularity and success of his lordship's year of office, which i have also reason to believe he greatly enjoyed. it may be interesting to narrate how lord derby became lord mayor. i had heard it stated that his brother and predecessor in the title had often expressed his wish that the old tradition of the family might be revived, and that he might be asked to become mayor of liverpool; and bearing this in mind i ventured one day to mention the subject to lord stanley. i found it not only interested him greatly, but he said he was sure his father would appreciate the honour, provided it was the unanimous wish of the council. i mentioned the matter to our leader in the council, and an early opportunity was availed of to elect lord derby as the first lord mayor of the extended liverpool. by the death of lord derby, liverpool sustained a grievous loss. he had filled many great public positions--governor-general of canada, secretary of state for war--but in no position did he do more useful work than in the management of his own vast estates, and in furthering good work of every description round and about liverpool. he fully realised that great responsibility attached to his position, and he devoted himself to the discharge of his many duties in the county and in liverpool with an assiduity and earnestness which won the admiration of all, while all were fascinated by his great courtesy and old-world charm of manner. lord derby took a deep and active interest in the building of the cathedral, always making a point of attending our meetings when in liverpool, and his encouragement and wise words of advice were most helpful. prince fushimi of japan. in june, , i received a letter from sir edward grey, the secretary of state for foreign affairs, asking me if i could entertain at bromborough hall the prince fushimi of japan, a royal prince, who was visiting england on a special mission from the emperor. i replied that, while i should be delighted to do all i could to extend hospitality to the prince, i could only place ten bedrooms at his disposal. sir edward grey replied that as the suite comprised twenty-two he had asked lord derby to invite the prince to knowsley, but would be glad if i would make the necessary arrangements for his visit to liverpool. this was followed by a letter from lord derby asking me to send to his comptroller a list of the guests i thought he ought to invite, intimating that he could put up thirty and dine forty all told. i made out a purely official list, and arranged for the lord mayor to give the prince a luncheon at the town hall, and for the dock board to take him in their tender for a sail on the river, and afterwards to proceed to knowsley. the suite in attendance on the prince was most distinguished, including the grand chamberlain to the emperor, the admiral who had been minister of marine during the russo-japanese war, the general who commanded the cavalry during the war, and many other men of eminence. they mostly spoke english, and were very interesting. they were charmed with the park at knowsley, and were familiar with the history of many of the great personages whose portraits were displayed upon the walls of the knowsley dining-room. they asked innumerable questions, and among other things wanted a plan of knowsley. the only plan lord derby could produce was a plan made to show the drainage system. strange to say, they were delighted with it. the following morning, shortly before leaving, the prince came downstairs, preceded by two of his suite, bearing a beautiful cabinet, which he placed at lady derby's feet, a present from the emperor. lady derby was much gratified, and said she was more than repaid for all the trouble she had taken in opening the house and bringing all the servants, carriages, and horses from london, adding, "they are such perfect gentlemen." knowsley was in the hands of the painters, and, being in the middle of the london season, it was not an easy thing to arrange to entertain the prince; but as the king had expressed a wish that lord derby should be his host, it had to be done. liverpool had a good friend in the late lord derby, and no one will ever know the trouble he took to entertain royal and distinguished visitors to liverpool, oftentimes at considerable personal inconvenience. during the war between russia and japan, it was for long a question if the fleet of japan would be strong enough to meet the russian fleet. at the close of the war it came out for the first time that the most powerful ship in the japanese fleet had in the early days of the war been blown up by a mine, with the loss of lives. i ventured to ask the minister of marine how they managed to keep the secret so well. he simply replied, "our people are very patriotic." i also asked the general who was in command of the cavalry how it was that their great strategical movements did not leak out. he answered with a twinkle in his eye, "the newspaper gentlemen were very pleasant, and we managed to interest and amuse them elsewhere." chapter xviii. travels. one of the most remarkable developments of modern times has been the increase in the facilities for foreign travel, with the consequence that travelling has become the pastime of the many, and not the privilege of the few. in the 'sixties and 'seventies travelling was difficult. in the first place, a passport had to be obtained, with the visé of the ambassador of every country through which it was intended to pass. it usually took ten days to procure this, and there also had to be faced the difficulties of the customs at the various frontiers, the absence of through train services, and the general halo of suspicion with which foreigners were regarded on the continent, and which led frequently to unpleasantness. in , on my way to trieste, i was detained at turin, and at the hotel i met mr. ed. lear, r.a., the author of the _book of nonsense_, who was on his way to paint a picture in italy. mr. lear made a few pen-and-ink sketches for me. when i arrived at the austrian frontier at verona, these were found in my baggage, and i was detained for twelve hours while enquiries were made about me by telegraph. another time, i was staying at the little portuguese town of elvas, and walked across the frontier to see badajos, the scene of the memorable siege during the peninsular war. on entering the town, i was asked for my passport, which i produced, but as it had no spanish visé i was placed in charge of a gendarme, who with a drawn sword marched me across the frontier back into portugal. these little incidents serve to illustrate the suspicion which surrounded travellers on the continent. in addition to my voyage round the world, already described, i paid annual visits to the southern states of america, in connection with my firm's cotton business, and i also spent some time in portugal and the west indies. in no department of travel has more progress been made than in ocean travel. i crossed the atlantic in in the "city of washington," of the inman line, and returned in the cunard steamer "niagara," the voyage each way lasting twelve days, and they were twelve days of great discomfort. the sleeping accommodation was below the saloon; the cabins were lit by oil lamps, which were put out at eleven o'clock at night; the air was foul and stifling; and there was an entire absence of ventilation. in the saloon, above the dining-tables, trays filled with wine-glasses swung from side to side with every roll of the ship; the saloon was lit by candles, which spurted grease and smelt abominably. there was no smoking room provided, and we sat in the "fiddlee" upon coils of rope, while the sea washed to and fro, or else we tried to get under the lee of the funnel. what a change has taken place, and how greatly the electric light has contributed to the comfort of travellers by sea! the franco-german battlefields. the most interesting journey i ever made was in , when with my father and the late dr. grimsdale and mr. ryley i visited the franco-prussian battlefields. the war was not ended and the german army was still surrounding paris, which made travelling difficult, but we met with great civility from the prussian officers, and visited the battlefields of saarbrück, where the prince imperial received his baptism of fire, wörth, hagenau, weissenburg, gravelotte, where we found men still burying the horses slain in the battle, mars-le-tour, metz, and finally sedan. we gathered many trophies, but were not allowed to bring them away. wherever the prussians made a stand and were slaughtered in their hundreds, as at gravelotte, we found pieces of small german bibles, and we were told that every german soldier, from the emperor william downwards, carried a bible in his haversack. costa rica. the year after i retired from business, in , i visited costa rica with my eldest daughter, to inspect the railway in which we were much interested. the country from port limon, which lies on the shores of the gulf of mexico, bathed in a tropical sun, to san josé, the capital, is most picturesque and remarkable for its deep ravines, its rapid rivers, and its wealth of vegetation. on leaving port limon we passed through long and deep valleys filled with palms and every species of tropical plants, which made us exclaim that we might be in the kew conservatories. we gradually worked our way up , feet to the plateau upon which san josé is situated, and the scenery hereabouts reminded us of an undulating english landscape, such as we have in kent or surrey. the railway was then in its infancy, and in a very rickety condition; it was said that the man who travelled by it for the first time was a hero, and if he travelled a second time he was a fool. but reconstruction was already in progress. we were much interested in the banana cultivation, as it supplied cargoes for our steamers sailing between port limon and new york, a trade which has since developed into gigantic dimensions. we had all the anxiety of finding the capital necessary to finance both the banana industry and the railway, and like most pioneers we did not secure the reward; it went to an american company, who reaped where we had sown. my daughter and i had a charming trip to cartago, and ascended the volcano of iritzu, , feet, and from the summit had a view of both the atlantic and pacific oceans. we made also a trip to the pacific coast on horseback; it was a long journey, and in order to escape the heat of the sun we travelled chiefly by night. we passed innumerable waggons drawn by bullocks and laden with coffee for shipment from the pacific coast. it required some vigilance on our part to prevent our horses being struck by the long horns of the bullocks as we passed by. we had eventually to leave the high road and strike through the bush, the indians going before cutting down with their _machettes_ the vines and tree branches which blocked the path. we returned only a few days later, yet such is the rapid growth of tropical vegetation that the indians had again to clear the track. we stayed the second night at the village of esperanto, and early next day reached the trinidad gold mines, situated on the mountain side looking down on the pacific coast. i shall never forget the view which stretched out before us. there was the pacific ocean lying opalescent in the bright beams of the morning sun, and studded with little blue islands, looking like so many blue beads upon a silvered mirror. on our way out from jamaica to limon we spent two days at colon. the works on the panama canal were in active operation. we went a little way up and saw enough to convince me that the french would never make the canal. the waste of money was prodigious. we saw a train of trucks loaded with cases side-tracked into the bush and completely grown over. the sickness was also terrible. every day a funeral train came down to colon from the works with bodies for interment, and grave spaces in the cemetery were so scarce that they were let at a rental of so much a month. now, thanks to the researches of the liverpool tropical school of medicine, these pestiferous swamps have been rendered innocuous. jamaica. i made a voyage to jamaica in , the year of the rebellion, and had the pleasure of staying with governor eyre. the rebellion at one time assumed a very grave aspect, and the governor got into serious trouble, because, to save the situation, he shot several of the rebel ringleaders, after a trial by drumhead court-martial. i fully believed from what i knew of the circumstances that he was justified in doing so, and his action prevented a serious outbreak, but he was made the scapegoat. i have visited jamaica several times, and until i had seen ceylon, considered it the most beautiful island in the world. mexico. in , when on a visit to america with my daughter, i was asked to proceed to mexico, to endeavour to induce the mexican government to give their national bonds in exchange for the bonds of the mexican southern railway. these had been guaranteed by the several mexican states through which the railway passed, but there had been default in the interest payments, and the bonds were in consequence greatly depreciated in value, the $ bond selling in london for $ . i thought it was a hopeless mission, but decided to go. we proceeded from new york through arkansas and texas. it took us thirty-six hours in the train to cross texas, travelling all the while; this will give some idea of the great size of this state. on our way we saw in the newspapers that an insurrection had broken out in mexico, headed by gusman. the new york papers had long detailed accounts. this induced me to break our journey at laredo, which is situated on the frontier of mexico, as i did not wish to expose my daughter to any danger. on my arrival at the hotel at laredo, i sent for the landlord and asked him where the rebellion was. he replied, "right here, sir, in this hotel." i could not understand what he meant, and desired him to explain himself. "well," he said, "i will tell you how it was. some reports reached the north that a civil war had broken out, and one day fourteen newspaper reporters arrived. they came to this hotel and sent for me, and demanded how they could get to the seat of the war, and where gusman, the leader of the rebels, was to be found. i told them there was no rebellion, and that i had seen gusman in laredo a few days before, selling cattle. they were not, however, satisfied, and said that they had come down to write up a civil war, and a civil war there must be. they stayed in this hotel ten days, sending to the north every day long accounts of the progress of hostilities, and then they returned home." i thought this was one of the best stories of the methods of american journalists that i had ever heard, and as i knew it to be true, i repeated it to president diaz a few days later, on my arrival at the city of mexico. the old president was much amused, and said it reminded him of the story of a tiger. he received news that the people of a certain village were being destroyed by a tiger, and dared not venture out for fear of the animal, so he sent down a company of soldiers; they found it was quite true that the villagers were scared to death, but there was no tiger. a puma is called in mexico a tiger. when i told the president the object of my mission to mexico he laughed, and exclaimed, "did i think he was going to give me his good money for my bad money?" in my heart i thought he had very aptly described the situation, but i replied that i hoped to convince him that the good credit of mexico was in jeopardy by my railway bonds being in default, and if the government would step into the breach it would place the credit of mexico in a high position in the london money market. i, however, made very little impression upon him. i was asking for mexican bonds worth £ , for my railway bonds worth at the outside £ , . i had several interviews, but met with very little encouragement. i, however, got to know the president, and he became very friendly and pleasant to me. on one of my visits he told me of his birthplace, oaxaca, situated about miles south of the city of mexico; he was evidently very proud of it. he spoke of the beauty of the situation, the richness of the country, both in the fertility of its soil and mineral resources, and the industry of the indian population. i thought it would not be a bad idea to run down and see oaxaca. i was doing no good in mexico, and i should also be able to see something of the mexican southern railway, which ran about half the way to a place called tehuacan. we proceeded by train to puebla, where i left my daughter, and then down the long broad valley of tehuacan. every few miles we came to a magnificent church, which formerly had been the centre of a village or town, for during the spanish occupation this valley contained a population of , , , and was very fertile and rich. we saw now and again the aqueducts and tunnels which had conveyed water through the valley for irrigation. at tehuacan we passed through several fine cañons; here we took horses, as the railway was not completed beyond this point, and rode through a very delightful country. the first night we slept at an indian village, or tried to sleep, but were disturbed by the barking of dogs. every house appeared to possess a dog, which made it its business to howl and make the night hideous. the village was quite tidy, the houses mostly built of bamboo and thatched with dried palm leaves. the indians themselves, in their wide-brimmed hats and white calico clothes, often wearing woollen ponchos, were picturesque and interesting. on our arrival at oaxaca we put up at the hotel, which was far from inviting, and then called upon the governor and the archbishop, the latter an irishman with a decided brogue; he is a very rich and powerful man, and practically rules over his diocese, both in temporal as well as in spiritual affairs. oaxaca was a charming little town, prettily situated in a valley; in the centre of the town is a public garden and bandstand. one of the secrets of president diaz's popularity is his sympathy with the love of music so general among the indians, and he has wisely provided every little town with its orchestra. we were much interested in the market, and saw the country people bring in with their produce little nuggets of gold, which they had washed out of the gravel beds on their farms. the indians in these parts consist of two clans or tribes, the "black" and the "white hats"; the "black hats" were a troublesome people to control, but so far as i could see, the indians are an industrious and well-conducted people. on my return to the city of mexico, the president was greatly surprised and delighted when i told him where i had been. he was much interested and asked me many questions, and from this moment my mission appeared to make headway; i had made the president my friend. a bill was introduced into the legislature authorising the issue of mexican bonds in exchange for my railway bonds. although it met with some opposition, the president was all-powerful, and it passed the legislature, and in six weeks i received the new mexican government bonds for £ , , . i can well remember the smile of the chief clerk in the treasury when he handed me the bonds. i asked him why he laughed; he said such a rapid thing had never been done in mexico before, and he could not quite see why they should have hurried in this way; nor could i, save that my daily presence at the treasury acted as a gentle stimulus. we returned home via el paso and denver. the directors of the mexican southern railway were greatly delighted at my success, and presented me with a cheque for £ , . i look back upon this journey with much pleasure, not only from recollections of a very beautiful and fascinating country and people, but having enjoyed the friendship of two very remarkable men--president diaz and signor don limantour, the present finance minister in mexico. one day in course of conversation with the president, i mentioned my great admiration for signor don limantour, and i added that he had been educated at stonyhurst, in england, which i considered a great advantage to him. it was, therefore, very gratifying to me to learn shortly after i had reached england that he had been made finance minister, with the understanding that he would succeed diaz as president. in the hands of two such capable men the future of mexico is assured. president diaz is a man of great commonsense and of strong will. to consolidate his rule in the early years of his presidency he was obliged to be severe. the country was infested with banditti, who put a stop to all commerce and travel. diaz, when he caught the banditti, made them into rural guards, on the principle of setting a thief to catch a thief, and by this means he quickly restored law and order. even when i was in the country gibbets were still to be seen, some having hanging to them the remains of their former victims. for some years after i returned president diaz occasionally corresponded with me, and i kept him informed of the condition of things in europe, and in particular of the position of mexican finance in london. america in . in company with lord claud hamilton i again visited america in . we sailed from liverpool in the "ivernia." when we arrived at boston lord claud received a letter from the president of the new york central railway placing at his disposal a private car which would be attached to any train we required, and in which we were free to go to any part of the united states. this was a personal compliment to lord claud as chairman of the great eastern railway. we found the car contained a dining saloon, four state rooms, and at one end was a smoking room and observatory in which we could sit and view the scenery. there was an excellent _chef_ and a very attentive steward; and in this car we travelled and lived for three weeks, being most sumptuously entertained. we picked up two friends, so we had a very pleasant party of four. we visited niagara, chicago, st. louis (to see the exhibition), washington, and other places _en route_. at st. louis we were received by the president of the exhibition, mr. francis, who drove us round the grounds in a western prairie coach, painted yellow, and drawn by six white horses. it was a curious experience. the coach was fully laden, and as we rushed around the corners it lurched and heeled over in a truly alarming manner. we felt for the time as if we were part of a wild west circus troupe. the exhibition was very well worth seeing. of all the great exhibitions it was quite one of the best. the illuminations in the evening were on a magnificent scale. during our railway progress we were surprised at the number of wrecks of trains we passed; seventeen in all. many had been accompanied by loss of life, but little or no allusion was made to them in the newspapers. we began to feel anxious for our own safety, and we were congratulating ourselves upon our escape from all trouble, when, nearing new york on our way from washington, suddenly we saw our locomotive sail away in front of us, and looking back saw the remainder of the train standing half-a-mile behind us. the couplings had broken, but the automatic brakes, fortunately, brought us to a standstill. when we arrived at any important place at which we intended to make a stay, we placed the private car on a siding while we took up our quarters at an hotel or a country club. these country clubs are charming institutions in america, and the members are most generous in extending their hospitality to travellers. when at washington president roosevelt kindly invited us to dine at the white house. we were unable to accept this invitation, and he then asked us to lunch. with the exception of general chaffee, we were alone with the president. the white house has a very english homelike aspect. it is a large georgian house furnished and decorated in adams style, and resembles an english gentleman's country residence. president roosevelt is a thick-set man of medium height, very vivacious and active, both mentally and physically. he had all the energy and strenuous activity, while his chief secretary of state, mr. hay, had the wisdom and discretion, and the two made a strong combination. when mr. hay died this salutary restraint was removed, and president roosevelt tried to carry out reforms with a rush. though his intentions were excellent the rough and hasty methods he adopted plunged the country into a disastrous and far-reaching financial disaster. at lunch the president told me that he had that morning been reading macaulay for the third or fourth time, and was anxious to know when tories in england ceased to be called tories. i replied, "it was after macaulay's time; about the 'sixties." he then told me that he had been to see the jiu-jitsu clan of japanese perform with their grips; they had grips, and being fond of athletics he had learned thirty of them. after lunch, while i was standing near the fire, the president rushed at me and said, "let me try a few of the grips on you," and before i could answer he had my right arm over his shoulder, and i had to follow bodily. he did not hurt me, and relinquished his grip when he found he was my master. he then took hold of my legs below the knees and threw me over his shoulder, and finally, taking hold of my hands, placed me on my back. the easy way in which he caught me and prevented my falling was a proof of his great muscular strength. he attacked lord claud hamilton in a similar fashion, but lord claud shrank from the contest. i think this was a proof of the extreme human character of the president. he will live as one of america's greatest presidents, and i suppose there are not many men who can say they have wrestled with this great uncrowned king of america. miscellaneous tours. of our winter travels in the mediterranean, our visits to egypt, greece, algiers, norway, etc., i need not say much, the ground is now so familiar to most people. the desert of sahara. we had one little experience, to which i look back with much interest. staying at biskra, on the borders of the sahara, we formed a camp and went four or five days' sojourn into the desert, quite a unique and pleasant tour. we were joined by two american ladies, and our camp consisted of eleven men and about a dozen mules, and four or five camels. we had an excellent native dragoman, who turned out to be a very good cook. the camels carried the tents and bedding, and the kitchen utensils, while we rode the mules. as we marched out of biskra we formed quite an important cavalcade and all the people in the hotel turned out to see us. after marching about ten miles we halted for lunch, and it was surprising how soon achmed had a ragout ready for us. we afterwards marched about fifteen miles, and pitched our camp just outside an oasis, and not very far from an encampment of bedouins. the days were very hot, but the nights quite cold. our beds were spread on the ground in the tents, and we required all our blankets and rugs to keep the cold out. an armed arab slept on the ground outside the door of each tent. the desert at this season of the year--the spring--was covered, more or less, with short grass and an abundance of wild flowers. in many places we had to pass over large areas of sand dunes, which were very trying, and to cross the dried-up beds of rivers. these rivers come down from the mountains when the snows melt and rush along in mighty torrents, scooping out water courses, until they finally lose themselves in the burning sands of the desert. as we got away from the mountains, the desert began to look more and more like the ocean, with its clean-cut horizon all round, the hummocks of sand reminding one of atlantic seas. the clear blue sky and the translucent atmosphere imparted an enchanting aspect to the scene; indeed, it became fascinating, and i can quite enter into the spirit of the bedouin, who sees in the wastes of his sahara so much to love and to attract him. the intense sense of loneliness is a new experience for an englishman, and awakens within him strange emotions, giving him new views of his environment and throwing new lights upon the future. the starlight nights were lovely, and on one night we were able to play bridge by starlight up to midnight. we passed through several oases, which usually consist of a village surrounded by two or three thousand date-palm trees, the houses being built of mud and thatched with palm leaves. palms constitute the riches of this country, and a man's wealth is computed by the number of date-palm trees or camels he possesses. the bedouin tribes we came across seemed a well-behaved, peaceable people. they move about with their flocks of sheep and goats. at night their flocks are tethered about their tents, and by day they wander in search of pasture. the men beguile their time while watching their flocks by doing embroideries, and also in making garments. they lead the simple life. the count's garden, biskra. all lovers of a garden will take great delight in the count's garden at biskra, rendered famous by the beautiful poetic description given of it by mr. hichens in his novel the _garden of allah_. the garden is situated just outside biskra, on the banks of the river benevent. it was laid out fifty years ago by the count landon, who lavished his money upon it to make this the most perfect tropical garden in the world. every species of palm tree, every plant known in the tropics, finds here a home. on the south side it is bordered by the river, with terraces overlooking the desert wastes of the sahara beyond; running streams of water intersect the garden and afford the means of the constant irrigation which is necessary. the borders and walks are wonderfully kept by an army of arab gardeners, so vigilant in their attention that it is almost impossible for a falling leaf to reach the ground before it is caught and removed; thus everything is tidy and orderly. it was in this garden domini met the count anteoni and listened to his reasons for finding his happiness in its leafy solitudes: "i come here to think; this is my special thinking place." it was to him an ideal place for finding out interior truth. the arabs of the sahara sing, "no one but god and i knows what is in my heart," and so the vast solitudes of the desert in their terrible stillness, overwhelming distances, and awe-inspiring silence, make men think and think. the arabs say in truth that "no man can be an atheist in the desert." we enter the garden through a large gateway, flanked on one side by a two-storied moorish dwelling-house which contains the sleeping apartments of the count. we cross a large court-yard margined by hedgerows, towering up twenty feet or more, deeply cut to form a shade for the benches underneath. at the far end of the quadrangle is the salon, the walls of which are covered with bougainvillea of a deep violet colour. on the far side the salon looks out upon a broad avenue of date-palms, fringed with hedgerows of dark red hibiscus and scarlet geranium. a few yards beyond is the arab divan, embowered by purple bougainvillea. huge date-palms lift their heads above all and afford a welcome shade from the direct rays of the sun; but its rays glint through and light up the orange trees, with their red golden fruit, which stand on the far side, and throw a yellow shimmering tint over the feathery foliage of the bamboos which fill in the space between the palms. everywhere overhead the date-palms and the cocoanut-palms meet and form a series of leafy arcades, throwing a canopy over the undergrowth, protecting it from the scorching rays of the sun. this undergrowth consists of hedgerows of bamboos, hibiscus, and alamanders, intersected by avenues of date and cocoanut-palms, alcoves in shady corners, pergolas shrouded with creepers leading out of mysterious paths and by-ways, groves of phoenix-palms and bananas, thickets of scarlet geraniums, and large clearings filled with fan-palms. everywhere is the music of running water rippling as it flows through its tortuous channels, distributing life and luxuriance in its path. it is difficult to enumerate all the trees which give so much charm to the garden, but i must not forget the acacias, gums, indiarubber trees, eucalyptus, and many varieties of mimosa. the garden is thrown open to the public upon a small payment, and forms one of the great attractions of biskra. it is difficult to conceive a more wonderful contrast than that between the luxuriant tropical vegetation of the count's garden and the arid, sandy wastes of the sahara with which it is surrounded, and out of which indeed it has been created. it was amusing to run across in out-of-the-way nooks and corners so many people diligently reading, and it was always the same book, the _garden of allah_. egypt. there is probably no country so fascinating to the traveller as egypt. it is not merely that it is oriental and picturesque, but it is a bible land and the seat of the early dawn of civilisation. its explorers have made discoveries out of which they have been enabled to build up the history of an ancient and most remarkable people; and while the traveller beholds in wonder the gigantic proportions of pyramid, pylon and temple, he is fascinated by the story which recent discoveries have woven around them. one cannot visit egypt without becoming an egyptologist in a small way. my two visits to assouan gave me a very good grasp of the centuries of history rolled up within the nile valley, and enabled me to deliver on my return several lectures in the picton lecture hall in connection with our course of free lectures. things have been changed very much in egypt. the lovely island of philæ, with its ptolemean temple, is submerged, and the valley of the nile has changed its character by the raising of its waters. cairo has become the pilgrimage of the fashionable, and much of what was primitive and interesting has been improved away, but still the egypt of history remains, and will remain, to charm and fascinate with its spell of romance--its reverence for the dead and the grandeur of its religious rites and ceremonies. impressions of india. india awakens within us such a sense of vastness and distance, and so strongly appeals to our imagination, that one is much tempted to write at length that others may enter into our enjoyment of a country and a people so great, so picturesque, and so remarkable. it was this feeling which prompted me, while in india, to write a series of letters to the _liverpool daily post_. these letters are too long to be reproduced here, and i must, therefore, confine myself to a brief résumé of our impressions of india. the first thing which almost staggers the imagination is the extent of our indian empire. [illustration: the dead city of fatehpur sikri, built by akbar, and which for years has remained deserted.] [illustration: the pilgrim city of benares on the ganges.] landing in ceylon, which lies only seven degrees north of the equator, we were surrounded by the most profuse and luxuriant tropical vegetation; and the vertical rays of the sun kept us indoors, except in the early morning and late evening. a few days later we had passed through calcutta and found ourselves at darjeeling, with snow lying all about us, and with the mighty snow-ranges of the himalayas piled up before us, and yet we had not left india. we were surrounded by , , of people belonging to six hundred nationalities, and speaking as many languages, differing not only in nationality and in language, but in religion, in civilisation, and in their manners and customs, and all this multitude of peoples, nations, and languages were comprised in "india." nothing brings this great diversity among the people of india more vividly before the mind than a walk through one of the main streets of calcutta. here one meets with natives from every part, some arrayed in simple white garments, but others clothed in gorgeous apparel. their costumes of silk and satin are radiant with a dazzling wealth of colour, every nationality having its distinctive dress, the bengalese, the pathan, the sikh, the nepaulese, the tamils, and the mahrattas, and all walk with that dignified bearing which proclaims them to be members of a princely class. our wonder increases. how comes it that this multitude of peoples, these descendants of martial races, live together in peace and amity? the plains of delhi, which for , years were the arena of perpetual conflict as nations were made and unmade, proclaim the warlike character of the people, the intensity of their national hatred, and the ferocity of their bloody feuds. they are now held together in peaceful union by legions of british troops--there are but , british troops in all india--and probably , , out of the , , people in india have never seen a british soldier. this great phalanx of nations is held together, is made happy and prosperous, by the just rule which appeals to their imagination and their sense of justice, and which is administered by british civilians, who are for the most part men under years of age. i think this is one of the most remarkable spectacles the world has ever seen. it speaks well for the english public-school system which has trained these men. it speaks also well for honest administration and the influence and power which it exerts, exercising a moral influence greater and more far-reaching than any military rule. the most interesting study in india is that of the people, among whom there is the greatest difference in physique. we have the lithe, active little coolie of southern and central india, the hewer of wood and the drawer of water; the fat, astute, and subtle bengalee, devoid of moral or physical courage, a born agitator; the stalwart hillmen of the north-west who furnish our indian army with its best recruits; and the mahrattas, the descendants of warlike races, who to-day are among the most active traders. the student of character has a wide and fruitful field for investigation, but there are certain features which stand out prominently--their marvellous patience, their devotion to their religion, which is almost fanatical. like the egyptians of old, they live in the contemplation of death, and look upon death as the great consummation. the elaborate and magnificent tombs we see everywhere correspond to the pyramids and monumental buildings of ancient egypt; while their ruinous condition attest the wisdom of solomon, that "vanity of vanity, all is vanity." the poverty of india is also striking, but it is not so great as it appears. when we talk of a daily wage of twopence it seems almost impossible that life can be supported on any such sum; but in india a penny will buy all the rice the coolie can eat, and his other expenses are very small. still, it must be considered a poor country. there is no scenery in india until we reach the hills, which occupy a considerable area in the madras presidency, and margin the whole of the north-west. central and southern india are vast plains. the grandest mountain view in the world is that of the himalayas, from darjeeling. darjeeling stands at an elevation of , to , feet, on the foot hills of the himalayas, about forty miles from "kinchin junga," which is the centre of one of the highest ranges. in the foreground are several deep valleys, usually filled with clouds. looking over these, a further great bank of clouds appears high up in the heavens. on closer examination we begin to see they are not clouds; their opaque, snowy whiteness and their sharp peaks and serrated edges tell us that this is a range of mountains. "kinchin junga" stands in the centre, with an altitude of , feet, but in this mighty mountain group there is no mountain less than , feet, and not one of these has been scaled by man. on a clear evening, when the setting sun throws its roseate rays over the snows, no view can be more sublime and beautiful. away on the west they dip down into nepaul, and on the extreme right the deep indentation marks the pass by which the british troops entered tibet. [illustration: the himalayas from darjeeling. in the centre, kinchin junga, , feet.] we do not travel to india to see scenery, but oriental life: the splendours of agra and delhi, the pilgrim city of benares, and the silent, deserted cities of fatehpur sikri and amber, all rich in historical records of the great mogul kings, who for so many centuries held sway in india. it is only by seeing these places that one can form some idea of the magnificence and splendour which surrounded these monarchs, which has never been surpassed. [illustration: agra--the taj mahal. the marble tomb, erected by the emperor shah jehan, in memory of his wife, a.d. .] while we were in india we saw the beginnings of that unrest which has caused so much anxiety and has led to those outrages which the best indians must deplore. we have in promoting education in india forgotten that there is but a limited opening for mere students, and in the absence of fitting occupation they become agitators. we ought to train the young men for some definite calling as agriculturists, engineers, or mechanics. we also thought that the europeans in india hold themselves too much aloof from the educated indians. caste prevents any great intimacy, but more might be done to bridge this over. with small and reasonable concessions to native ambition, but, above all, with that firmness of administration which alone appeals to the oriental mind, the present feeling of unrest will pass away, and india will continue to pursue that remarkable development and progress which have done so much for the happiness and well-being of her people. lord clive. in the summer of , when motoring through shropshire, i turned aside to visit the little village church of morton saye, of which my great-grandfather, samuel peploe, was vicar in . i had not visited the church for nearly fifty years. then it was a very quaint, old-fashioned place, with black oak pews and a black oak minstrel gallery at one end close to the pulpit. this was the singing gallery, the choir of three voices being led by a violin and cornet. i found all had been changed. the church had been restored; the old features had disappeared; but fortunately the restoration had been carried out in good taste. i spoke to the vicar, who had followed us in, and who was evidently proud of his little church; he showed me the brass plate he had taken off the coffin of my grandfather, and had placed as a memorial on the walls of the church. i knew the great lord clive had been buried in the church, and asked to see his grave. the vicar pointed to a flag-stone under some pews. there was no inscription upon it, and he said that the only record they had that the great soldier was buried in the church was the small brass plate above the vestry door, and he added:--"strange to say, there is no memorial to the man who made india, either in england or india, except in shrewsbury, his native town. i suppose," he added, "it was because he committed suicide." on his return home from india lord clive was furiously attacked by political enemies, and the man who had shown on so many occasions such conspicuous courage on the field of battle quailed and fell, struck down by the venom of his calumniators. when i was in india during the year following i enquired everywhere for a memorial to lord clive, but, although india bristles with statues to its governor-generals and eminent soldiers, there is in india to-day no record of lord clive. i was so much impressed with this that i wrote the following letter to _the times_:-- grand hotel, calcutta, feb. th, . lord clive. to the editor of _the times_. sir,--india has many monuments erected in honour of successful and popular viceroys and others who have served her well, but i have been unable to discover any monument to lord clive, to whom more than any human being we owe our great empire of india. westminster abbey contains no record of the great soldier-statesman. in the by-ways of shropshire, in the quaint little church of morton-saye, the village swain sits sunday after sunday over the grave of lord clive. no inscription marks it, not even his name; a small brass plate hid away over the vestry door and scarcely legible is the only record that the remains of robert clive rest within its walls. truly lord clive made india, but in the making of it he aroused jealousies and political enmities which, acting upon a too sensitive nature, brought him to a premature death. but should he be forgotten? the good work which lord curzon did for india in every direction is, i am glad to find, gratefully recognised and appreciated by her people. among the many excellent things he accomplished was the preservation of her ancient monuments and historical records; and, if he had remained in office, i am sure the memory of his illustrious predecessor would not have been forgotten. the maidan, in calcutta, would be enriched if it embraced a monument to lord clive. westminster abbey would more truly reflect all that is great and worthy in england's history if it contained some appropriate record of robert clive and what he did to build up her empire. yours truly, (signed) william b. forwood, chairman of quarter sessions for lancashire. _the times_ wrote a leading article; lord curzon followed with a brilliant letter, and other letters appeared, with a result that a committee was formed, the sum of between £ , and £ , was subscribed, and we shall shortly have memorials of the great soldier-statesman both in london and in india. chapter xix. recreations. it is a good thing to have a "hobby." perhaps in these days we have too many, and pursue them with too much intensity, to the neglect of more important matters. to this i must, to some extent, plead guilty. i have devoted much time and thought to boating and to gardening. my boating days commenced in the 'sixties, when i frequently sailed with my uncle, alfred bower, who owned some of the crack yachts belonging to the birkenhead model yacht club--the "presto," "challenge," "enigma," etc. they were large beamy boats, of about eight to ten tons, with centre boards. our racing was mostly in the upper reaches of the mersey, lying between eastham and the aigburth shore. in i made my first venture, buying the american centre-board yacht "truant," which had greatly distinguished herself for speed, and taking her up to windermere. she was not, however, of much use on that expansive but treacherous sheet of water. the heavy squalls were too much for her huge sail plan. i also owned and sailed on the mersey the "glance," eight tons; "satanella," fifteen tons; "saraband," fourteen tons; and "leander," twenty tons. i then for a time gave up yachting on the mersey, and in bought a racing boat on lake windermere, the "spray." she was most successful, winning in every race we sailed. in i was induced to build a twenty-ton racing cutter for the sea, and called her the "playmate." she was built by ratsey, at cowes, and was the first boat to carry all her lead ballast on her keel, and in consequence her advent was watched with considerable interest. i sailed her for two years in the various regattas round the coast, on the solent and on the clyde, but she was only fairly successful. the competition in the class was very keen, and the boats built by dan hatcher carried away most of the prizes. this was the time when yachting, i think, reached its highest point of interest, and the matches of the forty, twenty, and ten ton classes were watched with great keenness throughout the country. in the forty-ton class we had the "norman," "muriel," "bloodhound," "glance," etc.; and in the twenty-ton class the "vanessa," "quickstep," "sunshine," etc. we had also some very fine sixty-tonners, and an excellent class in schooners. our regattas were conducted with much keenness, and created great enthusiasm. locally we had many active yachting men, mr. david maciver, m.p., who sailed the "sunshine," the "shadow," and the "gleam"; mr. gibson sinclair, mr. astley gardner, mr. coddington, mr. andrew anderson, mr. st. clair byrne, and others. it is always wise, and i am sure in the long run pays best, to do everything thoroughly, even although it is only for sport or pastime; and when the board of trade allowed yacht owners to present themselves for examination and obtain their certificates as master mariners, i entered my name, and was the fourth yacht owner to qualify, lord brassey being the first. my sea experience was, of course, of great service to me. i afterwards found my board of trade certificate as a master mariner gave me increased pleasure in yachting, and my crew great confidence in my skill as a navigator. selling the "playmate," i returned to windermere; indeed i had never left it, but sailed the regattas each year, and in the year i completed my forty consecutive years' racing upon the lake, winning, for the second year in succession, the champion cup. the competition for this cup is limited to yachts which have won first or second prizes. my yacht, the "kelpie," was designed by mr. a. mylne, of glasgow. she is quite one of the smartest boats on the lake, particularly in light weather. during my forty years' sailing upon the lake i have witnessed great changes in the designs of the competing yachts. the boats starting with a length of feet on the water line, were gradually enlarged by being designed to immerse the whole of the counter, making the water line length feet inches. we carried about feet area of sails, including in this a huge foresail. the boats were large and powerful, but difficult to manage, and it is a wonder no accident took place. we afterwards introduced a load line length of feet with overhangs, with the result that we have established a very smart and useful class of boat. i built many yachts on the lake--the "althea," "truant," "charm," "brenda," "playmate," "breeze," "pastime," and "kelpie"--and several boats for the smaller class. i also built in the steel launch "banshee." she was designed by alexander richardson, and is to-day the prettiest launch on the lake. i have raced on windermere with varying success, but it has been the source of enormous enjoyment, and the days spent on windermere are among my happiest. when we first visited bowness we were content to reside in lodgings, but in we rented "fellborough," a charming little house on the lake shore below the ferry. after remaining here three or four years, we occupied for longer or shorter periods wynlass beck, loughrigg brow, ambleside, high wray bank; and in i took on a long lease "wykefield," at the head of pull wyke bay, a charming house with lovely gardens, and furnished also with a boathouse and pier. here we remained until , and since that time we have occasionally occupied wray cottage, a pretty dwelling nestling under the shadow of wray castle. [illustration: yachting on windermere, .] it would indeed be very difficult to describe the enjoyment windermere has afforded us during all these years. our long walks, mountain climbs, picnics on the lakes, fishing, and last, but not least, our regattas, filled our days with pleasure, and we look back upon our holidays with sunny memories of great happiness. in i wrote a history of the royal windermere yacht club. the rev. canon rawnsley added an interesting chapter descriptive of the lake, and the book was illustrated by some excellent photographs. as a thankoffering to god for permitting us to enjoy such great happiness, in we placed a stained-glass window in the parish church at bowness representing the _te deum_. in we built at lymington a fifty-ton yawl, which was named the "leander." in this we cruised for three summers off the west coast of scotland and south coast of england; but i found i could not spare the necessary time, and was obliged to give up sea yachting for good in . i was elected rear-commodore of the royal mersey yacht club in , and was for a time also commodore of the cheshire yacht club. yacht racing association. in my early days of sea racing, being much impressed by the want of a central authority to regulate all matters connected with yacht racing, i brought the question under the notice of mr. dixon kemp, the yachting editor of the _field_. he consulted colonel leach, a very leading and influential yachtsman, with the result that we formed the yacht racing association. we secured the prince of wales as our president, and the marquis of exeter as our chairman, and very speedily recruited a large number of members. i was elected a member of the council and subsequently chairman of the measurement committee, which had very important work to do in connection with the rating of yachts for racing purposes. the old thames rule was played out; yachts had become of such excessive length and depth that a new rule of measurement became necessary. we took a large amount of expert evidence, and finally drafted a rule which was adopted and remained in force until the present international rule superseded it. royal canoe club. this club was founded in the 'sixties by "rob roy" macgregor, who had built a small decked canoe, in which he had navigated the principal rivers in europe and the holy land. macgregor was not only an enthusiastic boating man, but he was a good christian worker and philanthropist, well known in the east end of london. "rob roy" appealed to me and others to form a northern branch of the canoe club on the mersey. we did so in , establishing our headquarters at tranmere. the club was very flourishing, and the upper reaches of the mersey formed a very attractive cruising ground; but the increase in the number of steamers destroyed canoeing on the mersey as it has destroyed yachting. living, as we did, at seaforth, i was able to run my canoe down to the shore and enjoy many pleasant sails in the crosby channel. finding an ordinary "rob roy" was too small and very wet in a seaway i designed and built a sailing canoe with a centre board, which was a great success and was the pioneer of sailing canoes. gardening. there can be no more delightful pastime than gardening. i may claim this to be my pet "hobby." other pastimes are evanescent and leave behind them no lasting results or afford no more than a passing pleasure; but in gardening we have seedtime and harvest, all the pleasures of sowing and planting, watching the gradual growth, training, and nurturing the young plant, and in due time gathering in the flowers or fruit, and in these days when so much is done in "hybridising" we have the added charm of experimenting in raising new varieties. we began to import orchids in , bringing them from the west indies and central america in large wooden boxes, thinking it necessary to keep them growing, but we lost more than half on the voyage. they are now roughly packed in baskets or bales and a very large percentage arrive safely. when in india in , at darjeeling, i hired two men and two donkeys to go down into the valleys of bhutan to collect orchids. they returned in about ten days with four large baskets full, chiefly denrobiums. among them there was a good deal of rubbish, but also many good plants, which i sent home, and which have since flowered and done well. there are no plants more difficult to kill than orchids; but, on the other hand, there are no plants more difficult to grow and to flower. their habits must be known and studied, and, above all, they must be provided with the exact temperature and degree of moisture they have been accustomed to. but the reward of successful cultivation is great and worth striving for. no flowers can be more lovely in form and in colour, and they have the great merit of lasting for days and even weeks in all the wealth of luxuriant beauty. they are the aristocracy of flowers. [illustration: _photo by medrington._ william b. forwood] chapter xx. obiter dicta. life viewed in retrospect down the vista of half a century of activity, presents many lessons which may be both interesting and instructive--lessons from one's own experience, lessons derived from watching the careers of others, of those who have made a brilliant success, of others who have made a disastrous failure, and of the many who have lived all their lives on the ragged edge between plenty and penury. it is also instructive to notice the conditions under which the great problem of life had to be worked out, as they vary to some extent with each decade. the world does not stand still, it will not mark time for our convenience; we have to go with the times, and the enigma of life is how to turn them to the best account. the outstanding features of the present day are the keenness of competition in every walk of life, and the rapidity with which events occur, creating a hurry which is prejudicial to the careful ordering of one's own life. competition has always been very keen, and the cry has ever been for the return of those good old days when competition was less. if they ever existed, it was before my time. everything, however, is comparative. with larger numbers of people there must be more competition, but there are also more opportunities, more employment, more people to feed, and more to clothe. but with the advance of education, particularly of technical knowledge, the competition has become more intense in the higher branches of industrial and intellectual activity; still, there is room, and ample room, on the top. the lower rungs of the ladder are well occupied, but the numbers thin off as we approach the top, and this must be more and more the case as education advances. the hurry of the present day is prejudicial to that thoroughness which is necessary if we are to attain efficiency. the hurry of everyday life becomes more and more conspicuous. living at high pressure, in this super-heated atmosphere we are apt to lose our sense of proportion, and crowd our minds with thoughts, schemes and projects regardless of our power of assimilation and arrangement. our minds are apt to become mere lumber rooms, into which everything is tossed. many things are forgotten, and cannot be found when wanted. how much better it would be for ourselves and for the world at large if we could live with more deliberation, if we could specialise more, be more intense within a more limited range of thought and activity, less casual, more thorough in the commonplaces of life. life would not lose in interest or picturesqueness, and it would gain in symmetry and value. it may be said that while it might add to the effectiveness of life, it would deprive it of much of its colour and romance; this would not, however, necessarily follow. on the contrary, greater effectiveness would open out new avenues for thought and action, new spheres of usefulness, more refined and elevating in their character, and more satisfying in their results. these appear to be surroundings in which we have to work out the problems of our lives, and this leads us to the consideration of how we are to achieve success under these conditions of competition and hurry. success in life. there are various kinds of success in life: business success, social success, and success in public affairs. perhaps to the ordinary individual business success is the most important; it is a source of happiness, promotes social success, and opens up avenues of public usefulness. if we look back and endeavour to trace the careers of those with whom we have been associated when young, i think we shall observe that those who have been most successful in their business careers have, with few exceptions, not been the brilliant and clever boys, but rather those of duller intellect, who have had the gift of steady application. this faculty is not born in us; we are by nature casual, and apt to follow the lines of thought and endeavour which require the least labour, and offer the most varied interest. we hate the grind of sustained effort, it bores us, and we long for something new. this dislike of prolonged application, and desire for change, has made more shipwrecks of business careers than perhaps any other cause. in its craving for change and excitement, it leads to speculation as a possible road to wealth without effort. the power of steady application must be inculcated in the school, by insisting that every subject taught shall be mastered by the boy, and not left until he has made it his own, and is able to clasp his hands on the far side of it. a few subjects taught and mastered in this way are of more value than a whole curriculum of studies learnt in a superficial and casual manner. we are apt to forget that the primary object of all education must be to train the mental faculties and to educate the judgment. we are too prone to cram the boy with knowledge which he has not the power to assimilate and make his own. we set out too often with the presumption that as a boy is born with legs and arms which are ready for use, so he must be born with a brain ready cultivated. the arms and legs do their work very much better if they are trained and strengthened by gymnastic exercises. in like manner the brain requires training--for this reason i have always regretted the gradual elimination of greek and latin from our national system of education. i know of nothing to take their place as a gymnastic for the mind. we too often send boys into the world to handle the most mighty weapons for weal or for woe, "capital and credit," without any proper mental equipment. the lack of hard mental training is more far-reaching and disastrous than is generally supposed. the want of accuracy leads to many mistakes. mistakes lead to excuses, and excuses mark the high road to lies. the absence of accuracy is the fruitful parent of carelessness in thought, in habit, and in the discharge of the duties of everyday life. i fear this is a national weakness, for i have found that the german clerk excels in accuracy; he may be wanting in initiative, but he is accurate and reliable in his work. englishmen have, however, remarkable gifts for a business career, if they are properly trained and educated. a good english man of business is the best in the world, he has great initiative, the power of getting through work, the talent to observe and to form a rapid judgment, but he is not born with these accomplishments, they are largely the result of education and training. there is a great reluctance in this country to introduce any system of compulsory military service. without dwelling upon its advantages to the nation, as likely to increase the physique of our men, military discipline would have a very beneficial moral effect. probably one of the most valuable traits of character is that of "obedience," and this would be cultivated and enforced by military drill, and i think it would also add to our self-respect. as things are moving we are in danger of becoming a nation of "slackers," both physically and mentally. i have already spoken of the necessity for steady perseverance and accuracy if we are to make a success in life, but there are two other qualities which are also essential to success, the capacity to observe, and the gift of imagination. observation. the number of men who go through life with their eyes closed is astonishing. these men regret their want of luck, they say they have had no chances; alas! they have had their chances but either failed to see them, or lacked the courage or capacity to take advantage of them. the world is so constituted that changes are ever taking place, and every change is fruitful of opportunities. we hear it said of some that everything they touch turns into gold. it is only another way of saying that they are ever on the look-out for opportunities, and are not laggards in turning them to good account. imagination. the want of imagination prevents many men from making use of their opportunities. upon a dull day, when the clouds hang in the valleys, and obscure from view the tops of the mountains, imagination fills up the picture, and probably paints the crests of the mountains much higher than they really are. too many men travel only in the valleys of life, content with what they see; and imagine nothing above or beyond. suppose, for instance, a serious disaster overtakes the harvest. the man endowed with imagination will look beyond the disaster and note its far-reaching effects, and in them recognise his opportunities for action. general sir richard baden-powell is doing an excellent work with his "boy scouts," not only in teaching discipline, but in encouraging the habits of observation and imagination, which will be of the greatest value to them in after-life. i have touched upon three points necessary to success in life, "thoroughness and accuracy," the faculty of "observation," and the gift of "imagination," because they are but seldom prominently referred to. it is not needful to enlarge upon the value of character nor upon the necessity for "integrity." of nothing am i more certain, than that "honesty is the best policy." i can think of no career which has been permanently successful, in which this "golden rule" has not been observed. speculation is the gambler's road to fortune. it has many ups and downs, and generally leads to disaster and the "slough of despond." but there is a wide gulf separating speculation from the enterprise of the genius that foresees and devises new methods of trade, or anticipates, as the result of careful observation and calculation, changes in the market value of securities and commodities. enterprise degenerates into speculation when the dictates of caution and prudence are set aside. to use the words of an old and much respected liverpool merchant, who recently passed away, "commercial success requires the concurrence of two contrary tendencies, caution and enterprise. caution is necessary in avoiding risks, in foreseeing consequences, and in providing against contingencies, even remote ones. but this will not carry a man far, he must also have the brain to originate, and the courage to strike when a favourable opportunity occurs. what we call a sound judgment is the due balance and just proportion of a well-stored mind. in no department of life is there more need for this balance and proportion than in the higher walks of commerce. the head of a great firm needs be a statesman, an economist, and a financier, as well as a merchant." i had proposed to conclude this sketch by a short account of the men of my time still living, who have been active in the making of liverpool, but so many have lent a helping hand, the work having been that of the many rather than of the few, that it would be impossible to avoid being invidious. events move so rapidly, the men and circumstances of to-day are crowded out and their memory obliterated in the new interests of tomorrow, that no man's work or influence can be said to have exercised more than an evanescent power; yet liverpool has been built up--its commerce, its municipality, and its charitable and philanthropic work--by leaders of men who have found their work lying at their hand and have done it, and have done it well. my story must now end. it has necessarily been told in a somewhat desultory manner, leaving out many details and many incidents which might have added to its completeness. but if it interests any of my kin or my friends, and still more, if it inspires them to make some effort on behalf of our great and glorious city--to elevate its social and intellectual life, to adorn and beautify its public streets and places, to brighten the lives and homes of the people, to carry forward and onward the great temple we are building to the glory of god--it will not have failed in its purpose. liverpool: lee and nightingale, printers, , north john street. . courtesy of the digital library@villanova university (http://digital.library.villanova.edu/)) yankee boys in japan [illustration: "with a shrill cry trembling upon his lips, nattie felt himself falling through space." (see page )] yankee boys in japan or the young merchants of yokohama by henry harrison lewis author of "the valley of mystery," "won at west point," "king of the islands," etc. [illustration: logo] new york and london street & smith. publishers copyright, by street & smith yankee boys in japan contents chapter page i--three characters are introduced ii--nattie arrives opportunely iii--grant is mysterious iv--the attack of the ronins v--the man with the gladstone bag vi--mr. black receives a surprise vii--nattie carries his point viii--one conspirator defeated ix--disaster threatens x--mori shows his generosity xi--nattie makes a discovery xii--the struggle in the "go-down" xiii--willis round escapes xiv--the beginning of the celebration xv--the wrestling match xvi--after the victory xvii--the turning up of a bad penny and its results xviii--evil tidings xix--bad news confirmed xx--the man beyond the hedge xxi--a prisoner xxii--the pursuit xxiii--patrick shows his cleverness xxiv--grant beards the lion xxv--a plan, and its failure xxvi--grant attempts to escape xxvii--in front of the old castle xxviii--sumo's army xxix--a mysterious disappearance xxx--the tragedy in the tunnel xxxi--ralph secures reinforcements xxxii--the flashing of the swords xxxiii--"grant! brother, is it you?" xxxiv--the mysterious forces of nature xxxv--retribution! xxxvi--conclusion yankee boys in japan. chapter i. three characters are introduced. it was early in the afternoon of a july day. a warm sun beaming down with almost tropical fervency glinted through the open windows of an office in the foreign settlement of yokohama, japan. the room, a large one, furnished with desks and chairs, and the various equipments of such an apartment, contained a solitary occupant. he--it was a youth of not more than nineteen years of age--was leaning back in an easy, revolving chair, with his hands resting upon an account book laid open on a light bamboo desk. his face, as seen in the glare of the light, was peculiar. the expression was that termed old-fashioned by some. he had queer, puckered eyes, and many wrinkles here and there, but the chin was firm and resolute, and the forehead lofty--marks of intelligence and great shrewdness. there was something in the pose of the body, however, that did not denote either gracefulness or symmetry. presently he arose from his chair and moved with a halting gait toward window opening into an outer court. then it became evident that he was a cripple. one leg, the right, was shorter than its mate. there was also a droop in the shoulders that betokened a lack of physical strength, or many years of ill health. notwithstanding this misfortune, the youth had a cheerful nature. as he glanced out into the court, with its huge-leafed palms, shady maples, and the ever-present bamboos, he whistled softly to himself. presently the faint tinkling notes of a _samisen_--a native square-shaped banjo--came to his ears from a neighboring building. then the rat-tat of the hourglass-shaped drum called _tsuzumi_ joined in, and the air was filled with a weird melody. with something like a sigh, the young man turned back to his work. bending over the book, he added up interminable columns of figures, jotting down the results upon a pad at his elbow. a stranger entering from the teeming street would have noted something amiss in this office. he would have seen that the half-dozen desks, with the exception of that being used by the solitary occupant, were thickly covered with dust. a delicate tracery of cobwebs held in its bondage the majority of the chairs. there were others festooning the row of books and pasteboard files upon a number of shelves lining the walls. over in one corner was an open fireplace, looking grim and rusted, and above a lacquered side table swung a parrot cage, desolate and empty. it was a scene of disuse, and it had its meaning. it was the counting-room of john manning, "importer and trader," as a tarnished gilt sign over the outer door informed the passerby. but the master of it, and of the huge warehouse back on the bay, had gone to his last rest many months before. he had been the sole owner of the business--which rumor said had fallen into decay--and when he went to join his helpmate, he left two sons to fight the battle of life. one, grant manning, we now see hard at work in the old office. the other, nathaniel manning, or "nattie," as he was familiarly called by his associates, was at that moment on his way to the office to join his brother. just fifteen years had john manning conducted business as an importer and trader in the foreign quarter of yokohama. at first his firm had prospered, but the coming of new people, and severe competition had finally almost forced the american to the wall. he died leaving his affairs in a muddle, and now grant, after months of delay and litigation, was puzzling his brain over the carelessly kept books and accounts. five years previous nattie had been sent home to new england to school. he was on the point of entering harvard when the word came that his father had suddenly passed away. in the letter grant had added that but little remained of their father's money, and that his presence was also needed to help settle the accounts. for several months after nattie's arrival in japan nothing could be done. at last the elder brother had cleared up matters sufficiently for the boys to see where they stood. on the day on which this story opens grant had arranged an appointment with his brother, and was now awaiting his coming with the patience characteristic of him. the task he had taken upon himself was not the lightest in the world. the books were in almost hopeless confusion, but by dint of hard application grant had finally made out a trial balance sheet. as he was adding the finishing touches to this, he suddenly heard the sounds of an animated controversy in the street. an exclamation uttered in a familiar voice caused him to hastily leave his desk and open the door leading outside. as he did so a couple of _jinrikishas_--two-wheeled carriages pulled by coolies--came into sudden collision directly in front of the office. each vehicle was occupied by a fashionably dressed lad. they were gesticulating angrily, and seemed on the point of coming to blows. the _kurumayas_, or _jinrikisha_ men, were also bent on hostilities, and the extraordinary scene was attracting a dense crowd of blue-costumed natives. rushing bareheaded into the street, grant grasped one of the lads by the arm, and exclaimed: "what under the sun does this mean, nattie? what is the cause of this disgraceful row?" "it's that cad, ralph black," was the wrathful reply. "he made his _kurumaya_ run the _'rikisha_ in front of mine on purpose to provoke a quarrel. he will have enough of it if he don't look out." "not from you, nattie manning!" insolently called out the youth in the other vehicle. "you are very high and mighty for a pauper." nattie gave a leap from his carriage with the evident intention of wreaking summary vengeance upon his insulter, but he was restrained by grant. ralph black, a stocky-built youth of eighteen, with an unhealthy complexion, probably thought that discretion was the better part of valor as he hastily bade his _kurumaya_ carry him from the spot. the brothers gave a final glance after the disappearing _jinrikisha_, and then entered the office, leaving the crowd of straw-sandaled natives to disperse before the efforts of a tardy policeman. "nattie, when will you ever learn to avoid these disgraceful rows?" remarked grant, seating himself at his desk. "since your return from the states you have quarreled with ralph black four or five times." "i acknowledge it, brother, but, really, i can't help it," replied nattie, throwing himself into a chair. "the confounded cad forces himself upon me whenever he can. he is insolent and overbearing, and i won't stand it. you know i never liked ralph. before i left for the states we were always rowing. he is a mean, contemptible sneak, and if there is anything on earth i hate it is that." the lad's face flushed with passion, and as he spoke he struck the arm of the chair with his clinched fist. in both appearance and actions, the brothers were totally different. stalwart for his age, clean-limbed, a handsome face, crowned by dark, clustering hair, nattie would have attracted admiration anywhere. as stated before, grant was a cripple, deformed and possessed of a quaint, old-fashioned countenance, but readers of human nature would have lingered longer over the breadth of his brow, and the kindly, resolute chin. nattie would have delighted athletes, but his elder brother--a truce to descriptions, let their characters speak for themselves as the story progresses. grant smiled reprovingly. he had a great liking for nattie, but he regretted his impulsiveness. none knew better than he that the lad was all right in his heart, but he needed a rudder to his ship of life. "i suppose it is hard to bear sometimes," he acknowledged. "it is a pity that you are compelled to antagonize the fellow just when we are placed in such a predicament. i have gone over the books from end to end, but i declare i can't find any further references to the payment of the debt." "we are sure father settled it, anyway." "but we can't prove it, more's the pity. the last entry in father's personal account book is this: 'paid this date the sum of five thousand, six hundred dollars ($ , . ) to----' it ends there." grant's voice lowered as he added: "at that moment he fell from his chair, you know, and died before help could come." both were silent for a while, then nattie reached for the book in question, and glanced over it. finally he said, with decision: "that entry certainly means that father paid back mr. black the debt of five thousand dollars, with six per cent. interest for two years, on the day of his death." "there isn't the slightest doubt of it in my mind. i cannot find the faintest trace of any similar debt in the books. but mr. black swears the amount was not paid, and he threatens to sue the estate." "nice work for a reputable english exporting merchant. but i don't put it above him. the sire of such a son as ralph black would do almost anything, in my opinion." chapter ii. nattie arrives opportunely. "i am afraid he will push us to the wall if he can," replied grant, taking up the balance sheet. "if mr. black compels us to pay, or rather repay the debt, it will leave us penniless. this little trouble with ralph will probably cause him to take immediate action. ralph has great influence over his father, you know." "how does the estate stand?" asked nattie, flecking a speck of dust from his carefully creased trousers. "badly enough. briefly speaking, our liabilities, not counting the black debt, are seventy-three thousand, eight hundred and ten dollars and forty-three cents, and the available assets, including everything--this building, the warehouse, and our home on the heights--are exactly eighty thousand dollars." "then we would have over six thousand dollars to the good if we could prove that father had really paid the english importing merchant?" "yes, in round numbers. six thousand one hundred and eighty-nine dollars and fifty-seven cents. but there is no use in beating around the bush, nattie. we must face the issue squarely. we can't prove it, and we are ruined." the younger brother sprang to his feet and paced restlessly up and down the office. there was a gleam in his eyes that boded ill for certain persons if they should ever be placed in his power. halting abruptly in front of grant, he said, passionately: "it's a confounded shame that we should lose everything. father was fifteen years building up this trade, and now it must all go because of that villain's treachery. you have gone over the books and know how the business stands. if we had money could we continue the business with any success?" "well, i should say so," replied grant, earnestly. "we have been agents and correspondents of the best american houses. why, when the business stopped, father had orders for almost one hundred thousand dollars' worth of petroleum, flour, calico, sugar and machinery. then there are the exports. the firm of broadhead & company, of philadelphia, wanted a consignment of rice and silk." "you are well known to the government people also." "none better. i can say without boasting that i stand higher with them than any other foreigner in business here. there is yoshisada udono, the secretary to the minister of war; and the sub-admiral of the navy, tanaka tamotsu. i have some influence with both, and in case of supplies i think i can hold my own. but what is the use of talking. we haven't the money, nor can we get it." nattie walked over to the window leading into the court, and glanced thoughtfully at the boxed walks, now overgrown with weeds. he plucked a sprig of bamboo, and returned to the center of the room. there was a smile upon his face. "i have a plan, brother, which may work and may not," he said. "it can be tried." grant leaned back and eyed him in silence. "you remember mori okuma?" continued nattie. "of course. i know him well. he returned to japan with you. he has been at yale for several years. what about him?" "coming over on the steamer i became very chummy with him. he is as nice a japanese youth as you can find in sight of the volcano of fuji san, which about includes the islands, you know. well, his people are dead, and he is the sole heir to over fifty thousand dollars in good hard money." "and you propose?" "to ask him to go in with us," replied nattie, quietly. "he told me he wished to invest his wealth if possible. he thought of returning to the states, but he can be talked out of that. what do you think of it?" grant was visibly excited. he arose from his chair and paced back and forth with queer little steps. he ran one white hand over his brow in a way he had. his face lost some of its careworn expression, and he finally became radiant with hope. "nattie, if we can induce him to form a firm with us our fortunes are made," he said, eagerly. "twenty thousand dollars, not half of his capital, will square up everything and place us in running order. just think of it! it will mean the defeat of many ill-wishers; it will save father's name from the disgrace of a failure, and it'll keep the old house going. when can you see him? how about bringing him here this afternoon? i can show him the books in a jiffy." "i declare, brother, this is really the first time i ever saw you excited," laughed nattie. "why, you positively look like another fellow. just bide here for a while, and i'll look mori up. he'll be down to the tea house near the bank, i suppose." he brushed his sleeves where dust from the desk had soiled them, jauntily placed his cork sun-helmet upon his head, and sauntered from the offices, leaving grant still trotting up and down in unwonted animation. the latter was alert and boyish. his face actually beamed--it was wonderful how the hope had changed him. the mere thought that money might be secured and the house--his father's firm in which he had loved to labor--would be saved from the disgrace of bankruptcy was enough. the youth--he was nothing more in years--whistled a merry air, and limped to the window leading into the street. drawing the curtain aside, he glanced forth, then started back with an exclamation of surprise. "ah, they are at work early," he muttered. "i fancy the son's malevolence has brought this call." a knock sounded at the door. grant threw it open, and bowed politely to a man and a youth standing upon the threshold. the former, an austere englishman, with dark side whiskers and a peculiar pallor of face, entered first. he was followed by a stocky-built youth, clad in fashionable garments. it was father and son, comprising the well-known firm of importers and traders, jesse black & company. ralph gave grant a malicious glance and seemed particularly pleased at something. the elder black marched majestically to a seat near the center of the desk, and, after brushing the dust from it, settled himself with a grunt. all this with not a word. the head of the firm glanced half contemptuously at the many evidences of disuse surrounding him; then he drew from an inner pocket a bill with several lines of writing upon it. this he handed to grant. "i suppose you know why i am here?" he asked, in a harsh voice. "i believe i can guess," quietly replied the cripple. "that bill will tell you. this estate owes me five thousand, six hundred dollars, not counting later interest. i need the money. can you pay it to-day?" "mr. black, you know i cannot. it is simply impossible. i am trying to get affairs straightened up so that i can settle father's debts, but i am not quite ready." "make him pay or threaten to sue," muttered ralph, in a voice intended for his father's ears. grant overheard the words, however. his eyes, generally so gentle, flashed, and he turned sharply on the ill-favored youth. "i am conducting this conversation with mr. black," he said, sternly. "i understand why this note has been presented to-day. it is your doings. simply because you had a quarrel with my brother, and he threatened to chastise you, you retaliate by demanding this money. if the truth was known, the entire debt was paid by my father on the day of his death." for a moment a silence death-like in its intensity followed this bold speech. father and son glared at grant as if hardly believing their ears. the elder merchant's pallor seemed to increase, and he furtively moistened his lips with his tongue. ralph's face paled, and then flushed until the cords stood out in his forehead. clinching his fists he strode over to where the cripple was standing near the bamboo desk. "what's that you say?" he demanded, hoarsely. "do you know what you mean, you puny wretch? it is an accusation of fraud, that's what it is. retract those words, or i'll cram the lie down your throat." if grant had faults, cowardice was not one of them. he thoroughly realized that he would be no match in a tussle with ralph black, but that fact did not daunt his spirit. "if you are coward enough to strike me, go ahead," he replied, calmly. "i will retract nothing. i say that i fully believe my father paid your debt on the day of his death. i know----" he was interrupted by ralph. wild with rage, the youth reached out and grasped grant with his left hand, then he raised the other, and was on the point of aiming a blow at him when the front door suddenly flew back. two young men stood in the opening. there was an exclamation of amazement, which died away in a note of wrath, then one of the newcomers darted forward, and in the twinkling of an eye master ralph found himself lying under a tall desk considerably confused and hurt, both bodily and in feelings. then nattie, for it was he, turned on mr. black, who tried to speak, but only stammering words came from his lips. the merchant had watched the affair with dilated eyes. he remained motionless until he saw his son stricken down; then, with a cry, he snatched up a heavy ruler lying upon the bamboo desk. as he raised it to strike at nattie, the latter's companion, who had hitherto remained in the doorway, ran forward and grasped his arm. there was a brief struggle, in which both nattie and the newcomer participated, then the blacks, father and son, found themselves forced into the street. [illustration: "as black raised the heavy ruler to strike at nattie the latter's companion ran forward and grasped his arm." (see page )] chapter iii. grant is mysterious. the occupants of the office waited for a few moments to see if the english merchant and his hopeful offspring cared to continue the scrimmage, but no attempt was made to open the door. nattie glanced through the window, and saw them retreating up the street as fast as they could walk. "well, did you ever see the beat of that?" he finally exclaimed, turning back to his companions. "what is the meaning of it all, brother?" grant, who was still fuming with indignation, explained the affair in detail. presently he quieted down and concluded by saying, regretfully: "i am very sorry it occurred. to have such a row in this office is simply disgraceful. it also means an immediate suit for that debt, and any amount of trouble." "we'll see if it can't be prevented," replied nattie, cheerfully. "this is mori okuma, brother. you remember him." the lame youth turned with outstretched hand and a smile of welcome to his brother's friend. the young japanese, whose modest garb and quiet manner proclaimed the high-class native, responded cordially to the greeting. he appeared to be not more than eighteen years of age. he had the kindly eyes and gentle expression of his race. "i am greatly obliged to you for your assistance," said grant. "but i must apologize for such a scene. it is unfortunate that you found this generally respectable office the theatre for a brawl. believe me, it was entirely unsolicited on my part." "oh, mori don't mind that," broke in nattie, with a laugh. "i'll wager a _yen_ it reminded him of old times. he was center rush in the yale football team, you know." mori smiled, and shook a warning finger at his friend. "i must confess that it did me good to see that old scoundrel thrown into the street," he said, naïvely. "i know him well. my father had dealings with him several years ago. and the son is a savage, too. he intended to strike you, the coward." "i'll settle all scores with him one of these days," said nattie, grimly. then he added, in a businesslike voice: "i have spoken to mori about the firm, brother. he thinks favorably of the idea, and is willing to consult with us on the subject. suppose you show him the books and explain matters." "i will do that with the greatest pleasure," replied grant, smilingly. "i presume my brother has told you about how we stand, mr. okuma?" "oh, bother formalities!" exclaimed nattie, with characteristic impatience. "call him mori. he is one of us." the young japanese bowed courteously. "we are friends," he said, "and i hope we will soon be partners." the lame youth fervently echoed the wish. calling attention to the balance sheet he had recently drawn up, he explained the items in detail, proving each statement by ample documents. mori listened intelligently, nodding his approval from time to time. presently nattie slipped out into the street, returning after a while with a _musmee_, a native tea-house waitress. the girl, _petite_ and graceful in her light-blue robe and voluminous _obi_, carried in her hands a lacquered tray, upon which were three dainty cups and a pot of tea. sinking to her knees near the desk, the _musmee_ placed the tray on the floor, and proceeded to serve the fragrant liquid. work was stopped to partake of the usual afternoon refreshments, and the boys chatted on various subjects for five or ten minutes. finally nattie gave the _musmee_ a few _sen_ (japanese cents) and dismissed her. she performed several elaborate courtesies, and withdrew as silently as she had come. the task of explaining the affairs of the firm of john manning was resumed. "now you understand everything," said grant, half an hour later. "you can see that with fresh capital we should carry on quite an extensive business. the black debt, which i explained to you, has crippled us so that we will have to fail if we can't secure money. we believe it was paid, but unfortunately, there are no traces of the receipt." "i hardly think mr. black would hesitate to do anything for money," replied mori, thoughtfully. "your esteemed father undoubtedly settled the debt." "we have written contracts with the twelve american houses on this list," continued grant. "then there is the chance of securing that order from the government for the maxim revolving cannon and the fifteen million cartridges. we also have a standing order for lacquered ware with four new york firms. in fact, we would have ample business for eight months ahead." "there's money in it, mori," chimed in nattie. "i can't explain things like grant, but i believe we can carry the majority of trade in this city and tokio. what do you think of it?" "i am quite impressed," replied the japanese youth, with a smile. "i have no doubt that we can do an extensive business. you will pardon me if i defer giving you an answer until to-morrow at this hour. as i understand it, you wish me to invest twenty thousand _yen_ against your experience and the orders on hand?" "and our contracts," quickly replied grant. "they are strictly first-class." "and the contracts," repeated mori, bowing. "they are certainly valuable. i think you can rely upon a favorable answer to-morrow. until then i will say _sayonara_." "_sayonara_. we will be here at four o'clock to-morrow afternoon," said nattie and grant, seeing their new friend to the door. "now, i call that settled," exclaimed the former, tossing his helmet in the air and adroitly catching it on the end of his cane. "i am certain mori will go in with us. he's a thoroughly good fellow, and can be depended on." grant was not so demonstrative, but the happy expression on his face spoke volumes. he bustled about the office, restoring the books to the safe, closed the various windows, and then announced, cheerily: "i think we deserve a little vacation, nattie. suppose we knock off now and have an early dinner out at home. then we can go to the theatre to-night. horikoshi shu is going to play in the 'forty-seven ronins.'" his brother shrugged his shoulders as if the latter prospect was not entirely to his taste. "i confess i can't see much in japanese theatricals since my visit to the states," he replied, "but we'll take it in. dinner first, eh? well, come along." leaving the office to the care of a watchman, they walked down the street toward the custom house. grant recognized and bowed to a score of persons within the few blocks. it was evident that he was well known in the foreign mercantile circles of yokohama. "they will be surprised when they hear that we have resumed business," remarked nattie, with a grin. "it will be unpleasant news to some," replied his brother, dryly. "if we have the success i anticipate i wouldn't be astonished if we found the whole crew banded against us. black & company can influence the three german houses and probably others." nattie snapped his fingers in the air in defiance. they presently came to a _jinrikisha_ stand, and selecting two vehicles promising comfort, were soon whirling away homeward. the distance to the suburb on the heights where the mannings lived was fully three _ris_, or more than six miles, but the _karumayas_ made little of the task. these men, the "cab horses" of japan, clad in their short tunics, straw sandals, and huge mushroom-shaped hats of the same material, possess wonderful energy. they think nothing of a couple of miles at full speed, and the apparently careless manner in which they tread their way through mazes of crowded streets is awe-inspiring to the foreign visitor. it was an old story to grant and nattie, however, and they leaned back against the soft cushions in comfort. after passing the custom house the _karumayas_ turned into the japanese town. here the scene changed instantly. here the broad roads dwindled to narrow lanes lined with quaint wooden shops, apparently half paper-glazed windows. broad banners bearing the peculiar native characters fluttered in the breeze. here and there could be seen the efforts of an enterprising japanese merchant to attract trade by means of enormous signs done in comical english. the _'rikishas_ whirled past crowded _sake_, or wine shops, with red-painted tubs full of queer liquor; past crockery stores with stock displayed on the floors; past tea houses from which came the everlasting strains of the _samisen_ and _koto_; on, on, at full speed until at last a broad open way was gained which led to the heights. espying a native newsboy trotting by with his tinkling bell attached to his belt, nattie called him, and purchased a copy of the english paper, the japan _mail_. "i'll see what brinkley has to say about the trade," he smiled. "to-day's work has interested me in the prices of tea, and machinery, and cotton goods, and all of that class of truck. hello! raw silk has gone up several cents. rice is stationary, and tea is a trifle cheaper." "that's good," called out grant from the other _'rikisha_. "i can see my way to a good cargo for san francisco if this deal with mori comes to pass. any mention made of purchases?" "black & company are down for a full cargo of woollen and cotton goods, and the berlin importing company advertise a thousand barrels of flour by next steamer." "we can beat them on prices. they have to buy through a middle man, and we have a contract straight with minneapolis. i'll see what----" "jove! here's something that touches me more than musty contracts," interrupted nattie, eagerly scanning the paper. "the committee on sports of the strangers' club intend to hold a grand celebration on the seventh of july to celebrate the anniversary of commodore perry's arrival in the bay of yeddo, and the first wedge in the opening of japan to the commerce of the foreign world. subscriptions are asked." "we will give five hundred dollars," promptly replied grant. "in a case like this we must not be backward." "that's good policy. you hold up the honor of our house at that end, and i'll see that we don't suffer in the field." "what do you mean?" "why, there are to be athletic sports galore," chuckled nattie, in high glee. "a very novel programme is to be arranged. it will consist of ancient japanese games and modern european matches. there is to be a grand wrestling contest among the foreign residents. that suits me clear down to the ground. and the funny thing about it is that no one is to know the name of his antagonist until he enters the ring." "that will certainly add to the interest." "i should say so. i am going to send my name in to the secretary to-morrow. let me see; this is the second of july. that means four days for practice. i'll secure old matsu doi as a trainer. whoop! there will be loads of fun, and--what under the sun is the matter?" grant had arisen in his _'rikisha_ and was staring back at a shabby-appearing native house they had just passed. for the purpose of taking a short cut to the road leading up the bluff the _karumayas_ had turned into a squalid part of the native town. the streets were narrow and winding, the buildings lining them mere shells of unpainted wood. "what is the matter?" repeated nattie, stopping the carriage. instead of replying, grant tumbled from his _jinrikisha_ with surprising agility, and stepped behind a screen in front of a rice shop. then he beckoned to his mystified brother, and with a peremptory gesture ordered the _karumayas_ to continue on up the street. chapter iv. the attack of the ronins. "what on earth is the matter with you?" repeated nattie, for the third time. "what have you seen?" "sh-h-h! there he is now," replied grant, peeping out from behind the screen. "i thought as much." the younger lad followed his brother's example, and peered forth. a few rods down the crooked street was a small tea house which bore the worst reputation of any in yokohama. it was noted as being the resort for a class of dissolute samurai, or ronins, as they are generally termed. these men, relics of the ancient order of warriors, are scattered over the country in cities and towns. some have finally exchanged the sword for the scales or plowshare, but there are others wedded to a life of arrogant ease, who have refused to work. too proud to beg, they are reduced to one recourse--thievery and ruffianism. the strict police laws of japan keep them in general control, but many midnight robberies and assassinations are properly laid to their door. on glancing from his place of concealment, nattie saw three men, whose dress and air of fierce brutality proclaimed them as ronins, emerge from the tea house. they were immediately followed by a stocky-built young man, clad in english costume. it was ralph black. he cast a cautious glance up and down the street, then set out at a rapid walk for the bund, or foreign settlement. nattie gave a low whistle of surprise. "well, i declare!" he exclaimed. "is it possible he has fallen so low as to frequent such a place?" "i hardly think so," replied grant. "what was he doing in there, then?" "i will tell you. he is out of sight now. come, we'll catch up with the _'rikishas_. when we were passing that tea house i chanced to look through the window. imagine my surprise when i saw ralph engaged in close conversation with a villainous-looking ronin. it struck me at once that something was up, so i motioned you to follow me from the carriages. what do you think of it?" "it is deuced queer." "ralph black is unscrupulous. he hates both of us, and in my opinion he wouldn't stop at anything to avenge himself." "then you think?" "that he is arranging to have us assaulted some night by those villainous ronins," replied grant, gravely. nattie halted, and, clinching his fists, glanced back as if minded to return. "if i thought so i'd settle it now," he said, angrily. "nonsense. what could you do in a row with three or four cutthroats? it is only a supposition of mine. i would be sorry to believe that even ralph black would conspire in such a cowardly manner. still we should keep an eye out during the next week or so, anyway. here are the _'rikishas_. jump in, and we'll go home." the balance of the trip to the bluff was made without incident. by the time the manning residence was reached the incident had been displaced by something of apparent greater importance. nattie's mind was filled with thoughts of the triumphs he intended to win in the wrestling match on the seventh of july, and grant was equally well occupied in the impending resurrection of the importing firm. the home of the mannings--that occupied by them in summer--was a typical japanese house. it was low and squat, consisted of one story only, and the walls were of hard wood eked out with bamboo ornaments. the numerous windows were glazed with oiled paper, and the roof was constructed of tiles painted a dark red. the grounds surrounding the structure were spacious, and in the rear stretched a garden abloom with richly-colored native plants. ancient trees, maple, weeping willow, and fir afforded ample shade from the afternoon sun, and here and there were scattered stone vases and shinto images. a moderately-sized lake occupied the center of the garden. ranging along the front of the house was a raised balcony to which led a short flight of steps. ascending to this, the boys removed their shoes, exchanging them for straw sandals. passing through an open door, they entered the front room of the dwelling. a servant clad in white garments immediately prostrated himself and awaited the commands of his masters. grant briefly ordered dinner served at once. other servants appeared, and by the shifting of a couple of panels (japanese walls are movable) the apartment was enlarged. the floor was of matting--delicate stuffed wicker an inch thick, and of spotless hue--and the entire room was devoid of either chair or table. to an american boy the preparations for dinner would have been surprising, to say the least. but grant and nattie were thoroughly conversant with native styles, and the only emotion they displayed was eager anticipation. in lieu of tables were two little boxes about a foot square, the lids of which were lifted and laid on the body of the box, with the inner surface up. this was japanned red, and the sides of the box a soft blue. inside were stored rice bowl, vegetable dish, and chopstick case. at the announcement of the meal, grant and his brother seated themselves upon the floor and prepared to partake of the food set before them with equally as much appetite as if the feast had been spread in american fashion. both boys had lived the most of their youthful lives in japan, and they had fallen into the quaint ways of the people with the adaptability of the young. mr. manning had early taken unto himself the literal meaning of the old saw, "when you are in rome, do as the romans do," and his sons had dutifully followed his example. after dinner the boys sat for a while on the front balcony, and then prepared for the theatre. _jinrikishas_ were summoned, and a rapid journey made to the home of native acting in yokohama. the peculiarity of japanese theatricals is that a play generally commences in the morning, and lasts until late at night. for this reason our heroes found the building comfortably filled with parties at that moment eating their simple evening repast. the theatre was a large square structure, situated in the center of a small park. the interior was decorated with innumerable paper lanterns, and covering the walls were enormous, gaudily-painted banners setting forth in japanese characters the fame of the performers. the stage filled one entire side, and was equipped with a curtain similar to those found in american theatres. there were no wings, however, and no exit except through the auditorium. on the remaining three sides were balconies, and near the ceiling was a familiar gallery filled with the native small boys. the floor was barren of chairs, being divided into square pens, each holding four people. the partitions were one foot in height, and elevated gangways traversed the theatre at intervals, permitting of the passage of the audience to their respective boxes. as usual in all japanese structures, the spectators removed their shoes at the entrance, being provided with sandals by the management for the time being. the last act of the drama was commenced shortly after the boys reached their inclosure, and it proceeded without intermission until ten o'clock. grant and nattie left ten minutes before the end for the purpose of avoiding the crowd. there were a number of people in front of the building and innumerable _'rikishas_ with their attendant _karumayas_. as the boys emerged from the door they were accosted by two men dressed as coolies. each exhibited a comfortable carriage, and their services were accepted without question. "what shall it be, home?" asked nattie, with a yawn. "yes, we may as well return. there is nothing going on in town" replied grant. "i have a little writing to do, anyway." stepping into his vehicle, he bade the man make good time to the bluff. both boys were preoccupied, and they paid little attention to the crowd through which they passed. they also failed to see a signal given by one of the supposed _karumayas_ to a group of three natives standing near the corner of the theatre. the easy swinging motion of the _jinrikishas_ lulled their occupants to rest, and both grant and his brother were on the verge of dozing before a dozen blocks had been covered. the night was dark, it being the hour before the appearance of a new moon. thick clouds also added to the obscurity, blotting out even the feeble rays of the starry canopy. a feeling of rain was in the air. down in the quarter where lay the foreign settlement a soft glow came from the electric lights. the deep-toned note of a steamer's whistle sounded from the bay. the bell of a modern clock tolled the half hour, and before the echoing clangor had died away the two _'rikishas_ carrying the boys came to a sudden stop. nattie aroused himself with a start and glanced around half angrily at being disturbed. before he could utter a protest or ask the reason for the halt both coolies unceremoniously disappeared into a neighboring house. grant had barely time to notice that they were in a narrow way devoid of lanterns, when there came a rush of footsteps from behind, and three dark figures made an attack upon the carriage. there was a vicious whiz of a heavy sound, and the right edge of nattie's _'rikisha_ body was neatly lopped off. the crashing of wood brought the boys to a realization of their position. they knew at once that they were being attacked by thugs. with an exclamation of excitement, nattie leaped from his carriage. another spring, and he was close to grant. then, with incredible quickness, the resolute lad produced a revolver from an inner pocket and fired point-blank at the nearest ronin. [illustration: "with incredible quickness, nattie produced a revolver from an inner pocket and fired point-blank, at the nearest ronin." (see page )] chapter v. the man with the gladstone bag. the extreme gloom and the excitement of the moment caused nattie to aim badly, and the bullet whizzed past the object for which it was intended, striking the ground several paces away instead. the shot had one result, however. it caused the assailants to hesitate. one even started to retreat, but he was checked by a guttural word from the evident leader. the slight delay was instantly taken advantage of by the boys. still holding his weapon in readiness for use, nattie hurriedly wheeled both _'rikishas_ between them and the ronins. thus a barricade was formed behind which grant and nattie sought refuge without loss of time. as yet, not a word had been exchanged. in fact, the events had occurred in much less time than it takes to describe them. now grant took occasion to remark in tones of deep conviction: "this is ralph black's work, nattie. it is the sequel to my discovery of him in that low tea house this afternoon. he has bribed these cutthroats to assault us." "no doubt. but we can't stop to probe the why and wherefore now. they intend to attack us again. it's a good job i brought this gun with me to-night. i have six shots left, and i'll put them to use if--look out! they are coming!" while speaking, he noticed something stealthily advancing through the darkness. he took rapid aim, but before he could pull the trigger he was struck upon the shoulder by a stone which came from in front. the force of the blow was sufficient to send him staggering against one of the _'rikishas_. he dropped the revolver, but it was snatched up by grant. the lame youth instantly used it, firing hastily through the wheel of one of the carriages. a shrill cry of pain came from the shadows, then a loud shout sounded at the lower end of the street. twinkling lights appeared, and then echoing footsteps indicated that relief was at hand. the thugs were not slow in realizing that retreat was advisable under the circumstances. they gave the boys a parting volley of stones, then all three disappeared into an adjacent house. "are you injured, brother?" anxiously asked grant, bending over nattie. "no; a bruise, that's all. the police are coming at last, eh? they must have heard the shots. what are you going to say about this affair? will you mention your suspicions?" "no; it would be useless. we have no proof that he set these men upon us. we must bide our time and watch the scamp. hush! they are here." a squad of japanese police, carrying lanterns, dashed up at a run. their leader, a sub-lieutenant, wearing a uniform similar to that of a french gendarme, flashed his light over the capsized _'rikishas_ and their late occupants; then he asked the cause of the trouble in a respectful tone. "we have been waylaid and attacked by three ronins bent on robbery," replied grant, in the native tongue. "we were on our way home from the theatre and while passing through this street were set upon and almost murdered." "which way did the scoundrels go?" hastily queried the lieutenant. "through that house. the _karumayas_ fled in that direction also." leaving two of his men with the boys, the leader started in pursuit of the fugitives. no time was wasted in knocking for admission. one of the policemen placed his shoulder to the door and forced it back without much effort. a moment later the sounds of crashing partitions and a glare of light from within indicated that a strict search was being carried on. grant and nattie waited a moment; then the latter said: "suppose we go home. we might hang around here for hours. if they catch the rascals they can call for us at the house." grant favored the suggestion. he told one of the policemen to inform the lieutenant of their address, then he and his brother secured a couple of _'rikishas_ in an adjacent street, and were soon home once more. the excitement of the night attack had driven sleep from them, so they remained out upon the cool balcony and discussed the events of the day until a late hour. after viewing the situation from all sides, it was finally decided that a waiting policy should prevail. to boldly accuse ralph black of such a nefarious plot without stronger proof was out of the question. "if any of the ronins or the _karumayas_ are captured, they may be induced to confess," said grant. "in that case we can do something. otherwise, we will have to bide our time." both boys arose early on the following morning and started for the office immediately after breakfast. they called in at the main police station on their way downtown and learned that nothing had been seen of the ronins or _jinrikisha_ men. the officer in charge promised to have the city scoured for the wretches, and apologized profusely for the outrage. on reaching the office, grant called in several coolies and set them to work cleaning up the interior. by noon the counting-room had lost its former appearance of neglect. the desks and other furniture were dusted, the books put in order, and everything arranged for immediate work. at the "tiffin," or midday lunch hour, the brothers dropped in at a well-known restaurant on main street. as they entered the front door a youth arose hastily from a table in the center and disappeared through a side entrance. it was ralph black. "if that don't signify guilt, i'm a chicken," remarked nattie, with a grim smile. "he's a fool." "all he needs is rope enough," replied grant, in the same tone, "and he will save us the trouble of hanging him. i suppose he was ashamed or afraid to face us after last night's treacherous work." on returning to the counting-room they found the young japanese, mori, awaiting them. to say that he was cordially greeted is but half the truth. there was an expression upon his face that promised success, and nattie wrung his hand until the genial native begged him to desist. "my answer is ready," he announced, producing a bundle of papers. "i suppose you are anxious to know what it is?" "you don't need to tell us," chuckled nattie, "i can read it in your eyes. shake, old boy! success to the new firm!" "you have guessed aright," said mori. "and i echo with all my heart what you say. success to the new firm of manning brothers & okuma. if you will come with me to your consul we will ratify the contract without loss of time." grant's eyes were moist as he shook hands with the young japanese. "you are indeed a friend," he exclaimed, fervently. "you will lose nothing by it, i assure you. if hard work and constant application to duty will bring us success, i will guarantee that part of it." an hour later the newly-formed firm of importers and traders was an acknowledged fact. in the presence of the american consul as a witness, mori paid into the foreign bank the sum of twenty thousand dollars, and grant, as his late father's executor, turned over to the firm the various contracts and the mortgages on the warehouse and office building. "the very first thing we must see about is that debt of black & company," announced the lame youth. "it won't do to have the new firm sued. we will call at their office now and pay it under a written protest." "yes, and deposit their receipt in the bank," added nattie, grimly. "nothing was found of the first receipt?" asked mori, as they left the consulate. "not a sign. i have searched through all the papers in the office, but without result. there is some mystery about it. father never was very orderly in keeping documents, but it is hard to believe that he would mislay a paper of that value." "who was in the office when your father--er--when the sad end came?" "three clerks under the charge of a bookkeeper named willis round. mr. round was seated at a desk next to father's at the moment. i was in the outer office." "was your father lying upon the floor when you were called?" asked mori; then he added, hastily: "forgive me if i pain you, grant. perhaps we had better allow the subject to drop." "no, no. i see what you are driving at. you think that possibly mr. round may have stolen the receipt?" "exactly. take a case like that; a valuable paper and an unscrupulous man within easy reach, and you can easily see what would happen. i don't remember this mr. round. what kind of a man was he?" "i never liked him," spoke up nattie. "he had a sneaking face, and was always grinning to himself, as if he had the laugh on other people. then i saw him kick a poor dog one day, and a man who would do that is not to be trusted." "i guess you are right," agreed grant. "come to think of it, i never liked mr. round myself. he was a thorough bookkeeper though, and knew his business." "where is he now?" asked mori. "i think he left for england. he was an englishman, you know. after our firm closed he waited around town for a while, then i heard somebody say he returned to london." the office of black & company was on the bund, only a few squares from the consulate, so the boys walked there instead of taking the omnipresent _jinrikishas_. the building was a dingy structure of one story, and bore the usual sign over the door. as grant and his companions entered the outer office a tall, thin man, carrying a much-worn gladstone bag, brushed past them and vanished down the street. the lame youth glanced at the fellow's face, then he turned to nattie with a low whistle. "there's a queer thing," he said. "if that man wore side whiskers, i would wager anything that he was mr. willis round himself." chapter vi. mr. black receives a surprise. "you don't say?" ejaculated the lad, stopping near the door. "why, perhaps it was. wait, i'll follow him and see." before either grant or mori could offer an objection, nattie darted from the office into the street. there were several clerks in the counting-room, and they eyed the newcomers curiously. at the far end of the room was a door leading into the private office of the firm. a hum of voices came from within. grant waited a moment undecided what to do, then he approached a clerk, and asked him to announce to mr. black that grant manning wished to see him on important business. the message produced immediate results. the fellow had hardly disappeared when the senior member himself stalked majestically into the outer apartment. waving an official document in one hand, he glowered at the lame youth and exclaimed, in a harsh voice: "your call will do you no good, sir. i have already instituted the suit. i suppose you have come to beg for time, as usual?" "you suppose wrong, sir," coldly replied grant. "well, what is the object of this visit, then?" "please make out a receipt for the full amount of our debt." mr. black's face expressed the liveliest amazement. the door leading to the inner office creaked, and ralph's familiar countenance appeared in the opening. it was evident that he had been listening. "w-h-hat did you say?" gasped the merchant. "please make out a receipt in full for the money owed to you by the firm of manning & company," repeated grant, calmly. "then you mean to pay it?" "yes." "but how can you? it is over fifty-eight hundred dollars, boy." "five thousand, eight hundred and fifty dollars, in round numbers," replied the lame youth, in a businesslike voice. "the receipt, please. i will draw you a check for the amount at once." he drew a small book from his pocket, and proceeded to write the figures as if such items were mere bagatelles in his business. mori, who had been an interested but silent spectator now stepped forward and whispered a few words to grant. the latter nodded, and said, again addressing mr. black: "by the way, sir, i think you had better accompany me to the american or english consulate. in view of past happenings, i prefer to have a reputable witness to this payment." the merchant's face flushed a deep red, and then paled again. before he could reply, ralph emerged from the inner office and advanced toward grant with his hands clinched and a threatening look upon his dark countenance. "what do you mean, you scoundrel?" he stormed. "do you dare to insult my father in his own office? i've a notion to----" he broke off abruptly and lowered his hands. mori had stepped before grant in a manner there was no mistaking. the young japanese was small of stature, but there was an air of muscular solidity about him which spoke eloquently of athletic training. "no threats, ralph black," he exclaimed, coolly. "we are here on a matter of business with your father. please remember that you have to deal with me as well as mr. manning." "what have you to do with it?" grated the youth. "mind your own business." "that is exactly what i am doing," was the suave reply. "enough of this contention," suddenly exclaimed mr. black, with a semblance of dignity. "ralph, return to the inner office. i will soon settle these upstarts. simmons, a receipt for the debt owed us by manning." the latter sentence was addressed to a clerk, who promptly came forward with the required paper. taking it, the merchant extended his hand for the check. grant hesitated and glanced at mori. that youth nodded his head, and whispered: "we may as well waive the precaution of having it paid before the consul. the receipt will answer the purpose. there are two of us, you know." "well, do you intend to pay?" impatiently demanded mr. black. the lame youth gave him the check without deigning to reply. the merchant glanced at the amount, then he eyed the signature in evident surprise. "what does this mean?" he asked, harshly. "this is signed 'manning brothers & okuma.' what absurdity is this?" "it means what it says, sir," answered grant, a suspicion of triumph in his voice. "i may as well tell you what yokohama will know before night. the importing and trading firm of manning & company has been revived. mr. okuma here is a partner in the house, and we commence business at once. you act as if you do not believe me, sir. please satisfy yourself by sending to the foreign bank." as it happened, at that moment a clerk from the bank in question entered the office with some papers. a brief question addressed to him by the merchant brought instant proof of the lame youth's words. as if dazed, mr. black gave him the receipt and entered the inner office without a word. grant and mori left at once. they looked up and down the street for nattie, but he was not in sight. after waiting for several moments at the corner they set out for the counting-room. the young japanese seemed preoccupied at first as if buried in thought, but he finally turned to his companion and said: "there is something about this business of the black debt that i do not understand. how is it you could find no trace of the payment at the bank or among your canceled checks? it would surely be there." "why, i thought i had explained that to you," replied grant. "the money paid them by my father was in cash, not by check. i remember that on that day we had received almost six thousand dollars in english gold from the skipper of a sailing ship. the money was placed in the small safe." "and it was gone when you examined the safe after your father's death?" "exactly. that is why i am so positive the debt was paid. that fact and the unfinished entry in father's book is proof enough." "it certainly is," replied mori, with conviction. "well, something may turn up in time to establish the fact. here is the office. we will wait until nattie returns." in the meantime an important scene had taken place in the counting-room they had just left. after their departure, mr. black cleared his private apartment of his secretary and closing the door leading to the outer room, bade his son draw a chair up to the desk. the merchant's face appeared grim and determined. he nervously arranged a pile of papers before him, and then, with the air of a man who had recently heard unpleasant news, he confronted ralph. "did you hear what that crippled whelp said?" he asked. "yes," sullenly replied his son. "he's induced mori okuma to go in with him, and they intend to commence business at once." "do you know what that means to us?" "another rival, i suppose. well, we needn't be afraid of them." "zounds! you can be stupid at times, sir. we have every reason to be alarmed at the formation of the new firm. if you paid more attention to the affairs of black & company and less to running around with the sports of yokohama, you would be of more assistance to me." "what is the matter now?" snarled the youth, arising from his chair. "these rows are getting too frequent, and i won't stand it. i am no baby to be reproved by you whenever you please. i won't----" "sit down!" thundered the merchant. "don't be a fool." then he added, more mildly: "remember that i am your father, ralph. it is sometimes necessary to reprove you as you must acknowledge. but enough of that now. we have a more weighty subject to discuss. you evidently do not see what this new firm means to us. i can explain in a few words. you have doubtless heard rumors of trouble with china about corea?" "yes, but that is an old tale. i heard it two years past." "well, there is more truth in it now than you believe. i have private means of obtaining information. if i am not mistaken we will have war before the end of the present year." "what of it?" the merchant held up his hands in evident disgust. "it is easy to be seen that you have little of the instincts of a merchant in you," he said, bitterly. "hold! i do not intend to reprove you. i will not waste the time. if you don't know, i will tell you that war means the expenditure of money, and the purchase of arms and stores. i know that the government is preparing for the coming conflict, and that they need guns and ammunition and canned provisions." "why don't you try for the contracts then?" "i intend to. as you may remember, that little affair of the fodder last year for the cavalry horses has hurt my credit with the war department. i think i still stand a show, however--if there are no other bidders." "how about the german firms?" "their rivalry won't amount to anything, but if this grant manning comes in he will secure the contracts without the shadow of a doubt. why, he is hand-in-glove with secretary yoshisada udono, of the army. the japanese fool thinks grant is the soul of honesty, and the cleverest youth in japan besides." ralph leaned forward in his chair, and pondered deeply for a moment. then, tapping the desk with his fingers, he said, slowly, and with emphasis: "i understand the case now. it means a matter of thousands of pounds to us, and we must secure the contract, come what will. if these manning boys stand in our way we must break them, that's all. one thing, we have a good ally in willis round. with him as----" he was suddenly interrupted by a sound at the door. before either could move it was thrown open, admitting a tall, thin man, carrying a much-worn gladstone bag. behind him and almost at his heels was nattie manning, an expression of determination upon his handsome face. chapter vii. nattie carries his point. when nattie left his brother and mori in the office of black & company, it was with the determination to ascertain whether the tall, thin man with the gladstone bag was really the late bookkeeper, willis round. if the lad had been asked why he was placing himself to so much trouble for such a purpose he could not have answered. there was no reason why round should not return to yokohama if he so minded. and he had every right to remove his whiskers if he chose to do so; and again, there was no law to prevent him from calling upon the firm of black & company. still, in view of recent circumstances, it seemed suspicious to nattie, and he sped down the street with the firm resolve to prove the identity at once. as the reader may have conjectured, the younger manning brother had a strong will of his own. it was his claim, not uttered boastfully, that when he set a task unto himself, he generally carried it out if the thing was possible. he proved that characteristic in his nature in the present instance. on reaching the corner of the next street, which happened to be the broad thoroughfare running at right angles from the bund, he caught sight of his man in the door of a famous tea house much frequented by the good people of yokohama. the fellow had paused, and was glancing back as if suspicious of being followed. on seeing nattie, he turned quickly and disappeared into the tea house. when the lad reached the entrance, he found the front room untenanted save by a group of waiter girls. they greeted his appearance with the effusive welcome of their class, but he brushed them aside with little ceremony and passed on into the next apartment. this also was empty. the more imposing tea houses of japan are generally two-story structures, divided into a multitude of small and large rooms. the one in question contained no less than a round dozen on the ground floor, and as many in the second story. there was no central hall, but simply a series of public rooms extending from front to rear, with private apartments opening on each side. nattie had visited the place times out of mind, and he knew that an exit could be found in the rear which led through a small garden to a gate, opening upon a back street. the fact caused the lad to hasten his steps. while hurrying through the fourth apartment, he heard voices in a side room. they were not familiar, but he halted at once. suppose round--if it were he--should take it into his head to enter one of the private apartments? he could easily remain concealed until a sufficient time had elapsed, and then go his way unseen. for a brief moment nattie stood irresolute. if he remained to question the _matsumas_ it would give the evident fugitive time to escape by the rear gate. and if he hurried through the garden and out into the back street, round could leave by the main entrance. "confound it! i can't stay here twirling my thumbs," he exclaimed. "what shall it be, back gate or a search through the blessed shanty? i'll leave it to chance." thrusting a couple of fingers into a vest pocket, he extracted an american quarter, and flipped it into the air. "heads, i search these rooms; tails, i go out the back gate," he murmured, catching the descending coin with great dexterity. "tails it is. here goes, and may i have luck," he added. hurrying through the remaining apartments, he vanished into the garden just as a tall, thin man carrying a gladstone bag cautiously opened a side door near where nattie had juggled the coin. there was a bland smile upon the fellow's face, and he waved one hand airily after the youth. "ta, ta, master manning," he muttered. "i am thankful to you for leaving the decision to a piece of money. it was a close call for me, as i do not care to have my identity guessed just at present. now that the coast is clear, i'll drop in on the blacks again and tell them to be careful." making his way to the main entrance, he called a passing _'rikisha_ and ordered the _karumaya_ to carry him to the bund through various obscure streets. in the meantime, nattie had left the garden by way of the rear gate. a hurried glance up and down the narrow thoroughfare resulted in disappointment. a search of adjacent streets produced nothing. considerably crestfallen, the lad returned to the tea house and questioned the head of the establishment. he speedily learned to his chagrin that the man for whom he had been searching had left the place not five minutes previously. "just my luck," he murmured, petulantly. "here, komatsu, give this to a beggar; it's a hoodoo." the affable manager accepted the ill-omened twenty-five cent piece with many bows and subsequently placed it among his collection of rare coins, with the inscription: "yankee hoodoo. only one in yokohama. value, ten _yen_." it was with a very disconsolate face that nattie left the tea house on his way to the office of the new firm. he felt positive in his mind that the thin man was really willis round, and the actions of the fellow in slipping away so mysteriously tended to increase the lad's suspicions. "if he cared to return to yokohama, he could do so," he reasoned, while walking down main street. "it's no person's business that i can see. and if he desired to increase his ugliness by shaving off his whiskers it was his own lookout. but what i don't like is the way he sneaked out of black's counting-room without speaking to us. he was certainly trying to avoid recognition, and that's flat. "i wonder what he had to do with that debt?" added the lad, after a while. "he is mixed up with the blacks in some way, and i'll wager the connection bodes ill to some one. perhaps it is to us." he had reached this far in his reflections when he chanced to look down a small alley leading from the main thoroughfare to a public garden. a _jinrikisha_ was speeding past the outlet. the vehicle contained one man, and in an instant nattie recognized in him the subject of his thoughts. to cover the distance to the garden was a brief task for the lad's nimble feet. as he emerged from the alley, however, he plumped into a couple of american man-of-war's men. the collision carried one of them into the gutter, but the other grasped wildly at his supposed assailant's collar. [illustration: "nattie plumped into a couple of american man-of-war's men. the collision carried one of them into the gutter, but the other grasped wildly at his supposed assailant's collar." (see page )] he missed, but nothing daunted, the sailor started in pursuit, calling out in a husky voice at every step. in his eagerness to catch up with willis round, nattie had continued his flight. the hubbub and outcry behind him soon brought him to a halt, and he faced about just as several policemen and a dozen foreigners and native citizens joined in the chase. what the outcome would have been is hard to say had not help arrived at that opportune moment in the shape of a friend--a clerk at the legation--who suddenly appeared in the doorway of a private residence within a dozen feet of the lad. "what is the matter, manning?" hastily asked the newcomer. as quick as a flash nattie bounded past him, and closed the door just as the infuriated sailor reached the spot. "for goodness' sake, old fellow, get me out by the back way!" breathed the lad. "i haven't time to explain now. i'll tell you all about it this afternoon. i am following a man, and i mustn't lose him. let me out by the rear, please." considerably mystified, the clerk obeyed. a moment later nattie was again speeding down a street toward the bund. as luck would have it, he caught sight of his man at the next corner. the _jinrikisha_ had stopped in front of black & company's office. hurrying ahead, the lad contrived to enter the door at the heels of the fugitive. he stepped lightly across the counting-room, and was within a foot of him when he threw open the door leading into the merchant's private office. at sight of them both ralph and his father sprang to their feet. totally unsuspicious of the proximity of his pursuer, the tall, thin man tossed his portmanteau upon a chair, and was on the point of greeting the occupants of the office when he saw them looking behind him in evident surprise. he turned, gave nattie one startled glance, then made an involuntary movement as if contemplating flight. the lad barred the way, however. grinning triumphantly, he lifted his hat with a polite bow, and said: "why, this is an unexpected pleasure, mr. round. i did not know you had returned to yokohama. how is everything in london?" "what are you talking about?" growled the fellow. "i don't know you." "indeed! how poor your memory must be. you worked for my father as confidential clerk and bookkeeper for many years. surely you must remember his son, nattie manning?" the mocking tone caused round to frown darkly. he saw that further denial was useless. curtly turning his back to nattie, he stalked to a chair and sat down. during this little byplay ralph had been staring at the intruder in a peculiarly malevolent manner. "what do you want in here?" he demanded, at last. "this is our private office, and we receive people by invitation only. get out." "with the greatest pleasure," sweetly replied nattie. "i have secured all that i desire. i wanted to satisfy myself as to that man's identity, and i have succeeded. the removal of one's whiskers don't always form an effectual disguise, you know. ta! ta!" he left the office with a triumphant smile, and quickly made his way to the counting-room of the new firm. grant and mori were engrossed in drawing up several tables of import orders, but they gave instant attention to his story. "it certainly proves one thing," remarked the lame youth. "mr. willis round attempted to visit yokohama in disguise. now what can be his reason?" before either nattie or mori could reply, the front door was thrown open, and the very man they were discussing stepped into the office. there was an expression of cordial good nature upon his face, and he advanced with one hand extended in a friendly attitude. chapter viii. one conspirator defeated. "how do you do, master grant? i am pleased to see you," exclaimed the newcomer. "and master nattie here is still the same good-looking lad as of old. is this the new member of the firm? the old company has called in native blood, eh? well, it is not a bad idea." disregarding the cold stare of surprise given him by grant, the speaker seated himself in a comfortable chair and gazed blandly around the office. he was a man of extreme attenuation of features, and restless, shifting eyes. he was modestly clad in a dark suit of english tweed, and carried the conventional cane of bamboo. for a moment there was an awkward silence, then nattie laughed--a short, curt laugh, which brought a perceptible flush to round's sunken cheeks. "so you are our old bookkeeper after all?" said the lad, with a sly wink at mori. "yes, i am inclined to believe so," replied the visitor, airily. "i have an explanation to make about that little incident, my boy. d'ye see, i returned from london by way of india yesterday morning. i had my reasons for arriving incog., therefore i denied myself to you this afternoon. as the cat is out of the bag now, i'll tell you all about it." he paused and glanced at his auditors. nothing daunted by their evident coldness, he resumed, in the same light manner: "i had a little deal on with the government here and certain people in england, and i came over to push it through. remembering the firm of black & company, i went to them first. the interview was not satisfactory, however. hearing that you had resumed your father's business. i lost no time in coming here. am i right in believing that you are open for valuable contracts?" both nattie and mori instinctively left the conversation to grant. in a matter of business, he was the proper person, they well knew. the lame youth leaned back in his chair, and eyed the visitor with extreme gravity. "so you are here to do business with us, mr. round?" he asked, slowly. "yes." "may i ask the nature of the contracts?" the ex-bookkeeper arose to his feet and walked with catlike steps to the front door. opening it slightly, he peered forth. then he repeated the performance at the remaining doors and windows. evidently satisfied, he returned to the desk. bending over, he said, in a stage whisper: "government." "yes, i know," exclaimed grant, impatiently. "you said that before. but for what class of articles?" "arms and ammunition, my boy. i have inside information. i know that japan will be at war with china before the end of the year. i also know that the government intends to place an order for many millions of cartridges and hundreds of thousands of rifles and revolvers within a very short time." "indeed?" "yes. now, i represent two firms--one english and one german, and we wish to secure a resident agent in japan. i can recommend you to them, and i will on one condition." "what is it?" asked grant, drumming nervously upon the desk. nattie leaned forward in evident expectancy. he knew that the drumming was an ominous sign on his brother's part, and that a climax was impending. "i wish to remain in yokohama, and i desire a situation. if you will give me the same position i formerly occupied in this office, i will secure you the good will of my firms. what do you say?" grant selected a letter from a pile on the desk and glanced over it. he smiled as if particularly well pleased at something, and then asked in a suave voice: "when did you leave london, mr. round?" "why--er--on the second of last month." "and when did you reach that city after leaving my father's service?" "what the deuce?--i mean, about two months later. why do you ask these questions?" "then you have been away from japan for some time?" "of course. i could not be in london and in this country very well," replied round, with a sickly smile. "it is certainly strange," remarked grant, reading the letter again. "have you a twin brother, sir?" at this apparently preposterous query, the visitor lost his affability. "no, i haven't," he almost shouted. "mr. manning, i did not come here to lose valuable time in answering silly questions. i have made you a proposition in good faith. will you please give me a reply?" "so you wish to enter our employ as bookkeeper?" "yes." "and if we engage you we can become the agents of your english and german firms in this matter of the government contracts?" "yes, yes." grant arose from his chair, and leaning one hand upon the desk, he added, impressively: "will you also promise to clear up the mystery of the black debt, mr. round?" nattie and mori, who were keenly watching the visitor's face, saw him pale to the very lips. he essayed to speak, but the words refused to come. finally regaining his composure by a violent effort, he replied, huskily: "i don't understand you, grant. what mystery do you mean?" "you know very well, sir." the lame youth's voice was sharp and cutting. nervously wiping his face, mr. round glanced down at the floor, then cast a furtive glance at his companions. if ever guilt rested in a man's actions, it did then with those of the ex-bookkeeper. he probably recognized the futility of his chances, as he started to leave without further words. he was not to escape so easily, however. "you have not heard my answer to your proposition," called out grant, with sarcasm. "i'll tell you now that we would not have you in this office if you paid us a bonus of a thousand pounds. you had better return to your confederates, black & company, and inform them that their effort to place a spy in this office has failed." "you will regret these words," retorted round, with a muttered oath. "i'll show you that you are not so smart as you think." "have a care, sir," replied the lame youth. "perhaps we will be able to prove your connection with that debt swindle, and send you up for it." "bah! you are a fool to----" he did not finish the sentence. at that juncture, nattie, who had been quietly edging his way across the office, bounded forward. there was a brief struggle, a crash at the door, and suddenly the visitor found himself in the street, considerably the worse for the encounter. "that's the proper way to get rid of such callers," remarked the lad, cheerfully. "talk is all right in its place, but actions are necessary at times. what a scoundrel he is!" "he is a discovered villain," said mori, quaintly. "in the expressive language of the american street gamin, 'we are on to him.' he was evidently sent here by the blacks as a spy. by the way, what was in that letter?" grant laughed, and tossed the document to the young japanese. "it was simply a bluff. i had an idea the man had not left the country, so i pretended to read a letter giving that information. he bit beautifully." "one thing is certain," remarked mori, with a shrug of his shoulders. "we have made an implacable enemy." "what's the difference?" chimed in nattie. "the more the merrier. we need not fear anything from willis round. he's a dead duck now." "so black & company have wind of the impending contracts, eh?" mused grant. "i must run up and see secretary udono at once. i think i can prove to him that we are worthy of the contracts. nattie, take this advertisement and have it inserted in all the foreign and native papers. tell them to place it on the first page in display type. we'll let the world know that we are ready for business." "i'll call on several old friends of my father in the morning and bid for the next tea and rice crop," said mori, jotting down the items in his notebook. "how much can we use this quarter?" "all we can secure," was the prompt reply. "i intend to cable our american houses at once. the new york and san francisco firms are good for two shiploads at the very least. by the way, nattie, while you are out just drop in on saigo brothers and see what they have on hand in lacquered novelties. speak for a good order to go on the steamer of the tenth." during the next two hours the three members of the new firm were head and ears in business. grant was in his element, and mori seemed to like the routine also. but nattie presently yawned, and left on his errands. outdoor life was evidently more to his taste. in the press of work the incidents connected with the visit of willis round were forgotten. grant and mori labored at the office until almost midnight. after attending to the advertisements nattie inspected the company's "go down," or warehouse, and made preparations for the receiving of tea. the following day was spent in the same manner, and on the second morning the purchases of the firm began to arrive. by noon manning brothers & okuma were the talk of yokohama. grant's popularity and business reputation secured him a warm welcome in the trade. a force of native clerks was installed in the office under charge of an expert foreign bookkeeper. it was finally decided to assign the drumming up of trade to grant, and the interior buying and selling to mori. nattie was to have charge of the shipping and the care of the warehouse. the latter found time, however, to practice for the coming wrestling match on the seventh of july. he had secured the services of a retired wrestler, and was soon in great form. as can be expected, he awaited the eventful day with growing impatience. chapter ix. disaster threatens. grant manning was a youth wise beyond his years. his continued ill health and his physical frailty kept him from mixing with the lads of his age. the seclusion drove him to self-communion and study. as a general rule, persons suffering from physical deformity or lingering sickness are compensated by an expansion of mind. it is the proof of an immutable law. the blinding of one eye increases the strength of the other. the deaf and dumb are gifted with a wonderful sense of touch. those with crippled legs are strong of arm. the unfortunates with brains awry are endowed with muscles of power. in grant's case his intellect made amends for his deformity of body. he loved commercial work, and the several years passed in the counting-room under his father's _régime_ had made him a thorough master of the business. when orders commenced to find their way to the new firm he was in his element. as i have stated before, he had many friends in yokohama and the capital, tokio, and the native merchants made haste to open trade with him. to aid this prosperity, was the fact that no stain rested upon the firm of john manning & company. the very name was synonymous with honesty, integrity and merit. foreign houses established in eastern countries too often treat their customers as uncivilized beings destined to be tricked in trade. john manning had never entertained such an unwise policy, and his sons now felt the results. the announcements in the various papers brought an avalanche of contracts and orders. on the fourth day after the birth of the new firm, mori--who was really a shrewd, far-seeing youth--had secured the cream of the tea and rice crop. he was also promised the first bid for silks. on his part, grant had secured a satisfactory interview with the secretary of war in regard to the army contracts for arms and ammunition. business was literally booming, and every foreign importing firm in yokohama felt the new competition. it is not to be supposed that they would permit the trade to slip away without an effort to retain it. not the least of those disturbed was the firm of black & company, as can well be imagined. the merchant and ralph were wild with rage and despair. orders from various english houses were on file for early tea and rice, but the market was empty. mori had been the early bird. "if this continues we will have to close our doors," exclaimed mr. black, gloomily. "i could not buy a dozen boxes of tea this morning, and we have an order of three hundred to leave by to-morrow's steamer. the fiend take that crippled whelp! he is here, there, and everywhere, and the natives in town are begging for his trade." "he will make a pretty penny raising the prices too," replied his son, in the same tone. "why, he and that japanese fool have made a regular corner in rice." "but he is not going to increase the price, if rumor speaks the truth. although he has control of the crop, he ships it to america at the old rates." "that is a shrewd move," acknowledged ralph, reluctantly. "it will make him solid with every firm in the united states. what is the matter with all of the old merchants, eh? fancy a man like you letting a boy get the best of him in this manner. if i was the head of an established house and had gray hairs like you i'd quit the business." this brutal speech caused the merchant to flush angrily. he was on the point of retorting, but he checked himself and remained buried in thought for some time. his reflections were bitter. it was humiliating to think that a firm of boys should step in and steal the trade from men who had spent years in the business. the brow of the merchant grew dark. he would not stand it. if fair means could not avail, he would resort to foul. his conscience, long deadened by trickery, formed no bar to his resolution. striking the desk with his open hand, he exclaimed: "i will do it no matter what comes." "what's up now, dad?" asked ralph, with a show of interest. he added, sneeringly: "are you awakening from your 'rip van winkle' sleep? do you think it is time to get up and circumvent those fools? name your plan, and i will give you my help with the greatest pleasure." "you can assist me. we must destroy the credit of the new firm. they have a working capital of only twelve or thirteen thousand dollars. i learned this morning that they had given notes for ninety days for twice that amount of money. it is also said that the firm of takatsuna & company has sold them ten thousand dollars' worth of tea at sight. grant arranged for an overdraw with a native bank inside of an hour. now if we can get up a scare, takatsuna will come down on the bank for his money, and the bank will call on the mannings for it." "that is a great scheme," said ralph, admiringly. "we will try it at once." "go to round's hotel and bring him here. in the meantime i will finish the details, my son. if all goes well, that cripple and his brother will be paupers before night." "and we will be able to fill our orders by to-morrow at the latest. if manning brothers & okuma fail, the dealers will gladly come to us." "i do not care a snap of a finger for the tea business," replied mr. black, contemptuously. "it is that army contract i am after. i have been told that grant has had an interview with the secretary. now, if we don't kill the firm they will have the plum as sure as death. bring round here without delay." ralph laughed as he walked to the door. "willis has been in the sulks since he failed to carry out our little scheme of placing him in the manning counting-room as a spy. he hates them worse than ever. he will prove a valuable ally in the present plan." in the course of an hour he returned with the ex-bookkeeper. before noon strange rumors commenced to circulate among the foreign merchants and the banks. by one o'clock the native houses were agog with the news. men met on the bund and talked over the startling intelligence. at two a representative from the firm of takatsuna called at the office of manning brothers & okuma. "i am very sorry," he said, "but my firm is in pressing need of money. it is short notice, i acknowledge, but we must have the ten thousand dollars you owe us for tea at once." grant looked surprised, but he politely sent the representative to the yokohama bank where the check had been negotiated. in half an hour an urgent call came from the bank for the senior member of the firm. when grant returned to the office his face wore an anxious expression. "boys, our enemies are at work," he said. "it is said on 'change that we are pinched for funds. black & company are urging the native merchants to ask for their bills. the bank paid takatsuna their money, but the directors want it refunded at once." he had hardly ceased speaking before a knock sounded at the door of the private office. nattie opened it, giving admission to a portly japanese. the newcomer's dress was disordered, and he appeared wild with anxiety. it was the president of the yokohama bank. at his heels were several merchants and half a dozen reporters. ill news travels fast. regardless of ceremony, the visitors crowded into the office. grant's face became set, and his eyes glittered. nattie appeared highly amused. he saw the comical side of the invasion, not the serious. it was really a critical moment. in commercial circles there is nothing more disastrous and credit-snapping than a run on a bank, or the failure to promptly pay a bill. the standing of a new firm is always uncertain. like gold, it requires time and a trial in the fire of experience. grant realized the danger at once. as the newcomers surged into the office, he arose from the desk and grasped the back of his chair with a clutch of despair. his thoughts traveled fast. he saw the ruin of his hopes, the success of his enemies; and he almost groaned aloud. outwardly he was calm, however. politely greeting the president of the bank, he asked the nature of his business. with feverish hands, the man produced a paper, and requested the payment of the ten thousand dollars. "remember, my dear sir, i am first on the spot," he said. the words were significant. it meant a call for money from all creditors. it meant the swamping of their credit and absolute failure. preserving his calmness, grant picked up the firm's check-book, and glanced over the stubs. of the twenty thousand dollars paid in by mori, but a trifle over one-half remained. there were other creditors at the door. to pay one meant a demand from the others. to refuse the payment of the bank's debt was to be posted as insolvent. that meant ruin. sick at heart, grant was on the point of adopting the latter course, when there came a sudden and most unexpected change in the state of affairs. chapter x. mori shows his generosity. during the scene in the private office of the firm mori had remained silent and apparently indifferent. apparently only--those who knew him best would have augured from the appearance of the two bright red spots in his dark cheeks that he was intensely interested. he watched the movements of the crowd at the door, he listened to the demand of the bank president, and he noted grant's struggle to appear calm. then just as the lame youth turned from the check-book to his auditors with an announcement of their failure to pay trembling upon his lips, the young japanese introduced himself into the proceedings. "what is the meaning of this, sir?" he asked the president, sharply. "what do you wish?" "i am here for my money," was the defiant reply. "i have presented the note, and i await payment." "don't you think this is rather sudden?" asked mori, with a suspicious calmness in his voice. "it was negotiated but yesterday. why this haste?" "i want my money," was the only answer vouchsafed. "and you at the door," continued the japanese youth, turning his gaze in that direction. "are you here for the same reason?" some one in the rear rank replied in the affirmative. mori's eyes flashed. taking a private check-book from his pocket, he rapidly wrote several lines therein, and, detaching a leaf, tossed it to grant. "pay them, every one," he said, carelessly. "you will find that sufficient, i think." the lame youth eagerly read the check, and then his face became suffused with emotion. the amount called for was thirty thousand dollars! mori had placed his whole fortune to the firm's account! afraid to trust his voice, grant hobbled over to the youthful native, and, in the presence of the whole assemblage, threw his arms around him. "god bless you!" he exclaimed. "you are a friend and a man." "nonsense," replied mori, gently. "it is nothing. pay these cattle off, and put them down in your black book. pay them in full and rid the office of the mob for good. and, understand," he added, addressing the bank president and his companions, "we will have no further dealings with you. hereafter we will trade with men not liable to scare at the slightest rumor." the official took the check extended him by grant with a crestfallen air. he saw that he had made a mistake and had lost the business of the new firm. too late he recalled the fact that he had really heard nothing of moment. rumors had been circulated, but try as he would, he could not recollect their source. the remaining creditors also suffered a revulsion of feeling. some attempted to slink away, but the three members of the firm singled them out one by one, and compelled them to accept checks for the amount of their bills. in an hour eighteen thousand dollars had been paid out, but the credit of the firm was saved. when the last man had been sent away nattie and grant overwhelmed the clever young japanese with congratulations and heartfelt thanks. mori's modesty equaled his generosity, and he threatened them with immediate dissolution if they did not refrain. "it is nothing, my friends," he exclaimed, for the hundredth time. "i am only glad that i was able to furnish the money." "you must withdraw the entire amount just as soon as it is available," insisted grant. "we should hear from the american houses within five weeks, and then we will return to the old basis." "i would like to have a photograph of old black's face when he hears the news," said nattie, with a grin. "or, better still, overhear his comments." "it was a shrewd trick, but it failed, i am glad to say," remarked the lame youth. "we must take advantage of the opportunity and clinch the effect. now is the time to set our credit upon a solid foundation." taking several sheets of paper, he scribbled half a dozen lines upon them. "nattie, take these to the different newspaper offices, and have them inserted in to-morrow's issues," he said. "then drop in at the printing office and tell bates to work up a thousand posters to be displayed about town. how does this sound? "'to whom it may concern: "'a despicable attempt having been made this day by certain interested parties to injure the credit of the undersigned firm, notice is hereby given that all outstanding bills will be settled in full at ten a. m. to-morrow. a reward of one thousand _yen_ is also offered for information leading to the conviction of the person or persons starting the slander. "'manning brothers & okuma'" "that is just the thing!" exclaimed mori. "it could not be better. we'll have the posters distributed broadcast over yokohama and also tokio. make it five instead of one thousand, grant. really, i believe that little affair will do us a great deal of good. it is an excellent advertisement." nattie hurried away to the printing office, and by night the two cities were reading the posters. at ten o'clock the following morning fully two score merchants had called upon the firm, but they came to ask for trade, not to present bills. the conspiracy had resolved itself into a boomerang, and the firm of manning brothers & okuma was more prosperous than ever. black & son were correspondingly depressed. the failure of their latest scheme caused the elder merchant much humiliation. at a meeting held in his office, attended by ralph and mr. round, it was resolved to stick at nothing to defeat the enemy. "it is war to the knife now," exclaimed the head of the firm, grinding his teeth. "something must be done before the first of next month, as the army contracts will be awarded then." "and that means a little trifle of twenty thousand pounds, eh?" replied the ex-bookkeeper, softly rubbing his hands. "yes, one hundred thousand dollars. that is clear profit." "many a man would commit murder for less than that," mused ralph, absently stabbing the arm of his chair with a penknife. mr. black gave his son a keen glance. "yes," he said, in a peculiar tone. "whole families have been put out of the way for as many cents. but," he added, hastily, "there is no such question in our case. ha! ha! the idea is simply preposterous!" his companions echoed the laugh, but in a strained fashion. ralph continued to stare moodily at the floor. after a while willis round announced that he had a proposition to make. "you said a few moments ago that it was war to the knife now," he commenced. "yes." "it is to your interest to ruin the new firm before the awarding of the army contracts, eh?" "certainly. if they are in business by the end of the present month they will secure the valuable contracts without a doubt." "what would you give if they were rendered unable to bid for them?" the merchant stared at his questioner half contemptuously. "why do you ask? you do not think you could ruin them single-handed?" he asked, banteringly. "never you mind," was the dogged reply. "answer my question. what would you give if the contracts were placed in your way?" "twenty per cent. of the profits and our assistance in any scheme you may propose. do you really mean to say that you have a plan promising success?" the merchant left his chair in his eagerness and approached the ex-bookkeeper. ralph showed a renewed interest also. before replying, round cautiously opened the door leading into the counting-room. after satisfying himself, he talked long and earnestly to his companions. at the conclusion the faces of the merchant and his son were expressive of the liveliest satisfaction. there was trouble still in store for the new firm of manning brothers & okuma. chapter xi. nattie makes a discovery. during the important and engrossing events of the past few days nattie had not forgotten the sport promised for the seventh of the month. he was passionately fond of athletics, and he never let slip an opportunity to participate in all that came his way. extensive preparations had been made for the celebration of the treaty made by commodore perry in the year . not only the foreign residents were to take part, but the natives themselves promised a great _matsura_, or festival. the committee of the yokohama club, under whose auspices it was to take place, had secured the racing grounds upon the bluff. a varied programme had been arranged to cover the entire day. the sports had been divided into two parts, modern racing and games in the forenoon, and ancient native ceremonies after tiffin. the main feature of the latter was to be a grand wrestling match between foreigners. to add to the interest, the competitors were to remain unknown to each other until the moment of their appearance in the ring. nattie had given in his name among the first. the prize offered was a valuable medal and a crown of laurel. for several days the lad had devoted his idle hours to practice with a retired native wrestler. the evening before the seventh he was in fine fettle. as an added chance, however, he resolved to take one more lesson from his instructor--a final bout to place him in good trim for the morrow. the scene of the practice matches was in the large "go-down," or warehouse, of the firm, located near a canal separating the bluff from the native quarter. the appointment for the evening was at nine, and shortly before that hour nattie left a tea house on his way to the place of destination. the day had been sultry, and toward nightfall threatening clouds gathered over the bay. rain promised, but that fact did not deter the lad. as his _'rikisha_ sped along the bund he recalled the points already taught him by his master in the art of wrestling, and he fancied the ringing of cheers and the outburst of plaudits were already greeting him. the manning "go-down" was a large square structure of stone, with iron shutters and massive doors. it was considered fireproof, and had as a watchman a brawny irishman recently paid off from a sailing ship. his name was patrick cronin, and he claimed to be an american by naturalization. on reaching the entrance nattie looked around for the fellow, but he was not in sight. taking a key from his pocket, he opened a narrow door leading into a little corner office. as he passed inside there came a wild gust of wind and a downpour of rain. the storm had burst. "good job i arrived in time," muttered the lad. "whew! how it does pour down. looks as if it has started in for three or four hours at least. if it keeps on i needn't expect old yokoi. i wonder where patrick is?" he whistled shrilly and thumped upon the floor with his cane, but only the echoes came to his ears. after a moment of thought he lighted a lantern and sat down near a window opening upon a narrow alley running between the building and the canal. the absence of the watchman was certainly strange. it was his duty to report at the "go-down" at six o'clock. in fact, nattie had seen him that very evening. the building was full of valuable silks, teas, and lacquered ware, intended for shipment on the following day. thieves were rampant along the canal, several daring robberies having occurred during the past week. then again there was always the danger of fire. as the lad sat in his chair and thought over the possible results of the irishman's dereliction, he grew thoroughly indignant. "by george! he'll not work for us another day," he muttered, giving the stick a vicious whirl. "i'll wager a _yen_ he is in some groggery at this very moment drinking with a chance shipmate." going to the door he glanced out into the night. the rain was still descending in torrents, and it was of that steadiness promising a continuation. when nattie returned to his seat it was with the resolution to keep guard over the firm's property himself. it meant a long and lonely watch with naught save the beating of the rain, the dreary gloom of the interior, and the murmuring sounds from the nearby bay for company. the lad had a stout heart, however, and he settled himself for the vigil without more ado. he found comfort in the anticipation of a scene with the recreant watchman in the morning. he made up his mind even to refuse him admission if he returned to the "go down" that night. the minutes dragged slowly, and at last the watcher found himself nodding. "jove! this won't do," he exclaimed, springing from his chair. "i am as bad as patrick. the lantern is going out also. wonder if i have any matches in my pocket?" he searched, but without favorable results. a hasty examination revealed the unwelcome fact that the oil receptacle was empty. in another moment the light flickered and died out, leaving the little office in darkness. disturbed in spirit, nattie went to the door, almost inclined to visit some neighboring warehouse or shop for oil and matches. one glance at the deluge still falling drove the idea from his head. he was without umbrella or rain coat, and to venture for even a short distance would mean a thorough drenching--something to be religiously avoided in japan during the summer season. "heigho! i am in for it, i suppose. confound that irishman! i would like to punch his empty noddle for this. here i am in the dark, condemned to remain all night without sleep, and--by jingo!" a very sudden and painful thought had occurred to the lad. the morrow was the day upon which he was to shine as a wrestler! the seventh of july; the day of sports in celebration of commodore perry's treaty. "i'll be fit for athletics and wrestling matches if i stay around here and lose my sleep!" murmured nattie, ruefully. "why, i'll be all played out, and a five-year-old boy could throw me. but what in thunder can i do? i can't leave and run the risk of the place catching fire. there's more than twenty thousand dollars' worth of stuff in here, and it would be just nuts to a thief to find himself among all those silks." it was impossible to communicate with either grant or mori. the streets in the warehouse district were unfrequented, and in such a violent storm even the policemen would hie themselves to a convenient shelter. muttering maledictions upon the head of the absent watchman, nattie closed the door and returned to his seat near the window. occasional flashes of lightning illuminated the outside, and during one of these the lad espied a man crossing the bridge at the corner of the building. thinking it might be some kindly person who would not disdain to carry a message, he hurried to the door leading into the street. as he opened it he heard voices. the newcomer had paused and was looking back at the indistinct figure of a second man on the other side of the canal. in the intervals of light nattie observed the person nearest him start back and evidently expostulate with his follower. they were barely ten yards away, and by the aid of a brilliant flash of lightning the lad noticed something familiar in the appearance of both men. one was tall and thin, while the other had a short, stumpy form and a rolling lurch as he wavered vaguely near the end of the bridge. "get back, man. what do you want to come out in this wet for when you have a cozy nook in yon house? go back, i say." it was the attenuated individual who had spoken. he placed one hand upon his companion's arm, but the fellow staggered away and replied: "got--hic--my dooty ter do. oi'm too long away as 'tis, m' boy. dash ther--hic--rain. it ain't wetter in th' blooming ocean, knife me if 'tis." "you are a fool to come out in it, i say. return to the house, and i'll join you presently. there are three more bottles of prime stuff in the closet. break one out and help yourself." "but me dooty, man! it has never been said that--hic--pat cronin ever went back on a job. ask me shipmates. why, they sing er song about me: "'so he seized th' capstan bar, like a true honest tar, and in spite or tears and sighs sung yo! heave ho!'" "shut up; you will have the police after us," expostulated the other. "do you intend to return to the house, or shall i lock up the bottles? answer me, yes or no?" "sure and oi don't want to lose th' drink, but----" "yes, or no?" "ah, it's th' funny man ye are. he! he! he! phwy don't yer git fat? if oi----" "then it is 'no,' eh? well, here----" "hould an, me buck. oi'll go back and take another swig. then to me dooty, yer understand. here goes. "'so he seized th' (hic) capstan bar, like a true honest tar, and in spite of----'" the husky notes died away, a door slammed in one of a row of wooden shanties across the bridge, and all was quiet. the tall, thin man glanced keenly after his companion; then, slipping up to the manning "go-down," he examined the entrance. it was locked. inserting a key he soon gained admission. as he softly closed the door again he stood within a pace of nattie. it had not taken the lad many seconds to catch the drift of affairs. he knew full well that patrick's tempter was no other than willis round, the firm's ex-bookkeeper. his presence in that locality during a heavy storm, his familiarity with the recreant watchman, the evident and successful attempt to entice him away from his post, could have only one meaning. he had designs on the property of his enemies. long before patrick had lurched back to the shanty nattie had slipped into the office. when he heard the key grating in the lock he was not surprised; but he was considerably puzzled as to the best manner in which he should treat the situation. "if i only had my revolver i would bring the scoundrel to terms," he muttered, regretfully. "i had to leave it home this night of all nights. as it is, i haven't a solitary weapon. a bamboo cane wouldn't hurt a fly. ah, i'll try the lantern." creeping across the floor he secured the object just as the ex-bookkeeper reached the door. returning to his post, the lad waited with rapidly beating heart. chapter xii. the struggle in the "go-down." that willis round meant injury was plainly evident. but whether he came as a thief or incendiary was yet to be ascertained. he knew the ground well, so he lost little time in entering. after closing the door he hesitated. at his elbow stood the brave lad with lantern raised in readiness. at the first sign of a light, or the scratch of a match, he meant to strike with all the power of his arm. the lantern was a heavy iron affair, and willis round was as near death at that moment as he probably had been during his eventful career. his knowledge of the "go-down's" interior saved him. after a brief pause he started toward the main portion of the warehouse. at his heels crept nattie, silent, determined, resolute. the main room of the warehouse was crowded with bales of silk, chests of tea, and various boxes containing lacquered ware. these had been arranged in an orderly manner with passageways extending between the different piles. in one thing the lad had an advantage; he was thoroughly conversant with the arrangement of the goods, while round had only a general knowledge of the interior. the latter stumbled several times, but he made no move to show a light. presently nattie felt his curiosity aroused. what could be the man's object? was it theft of valuable silks or deliberate incendiarism? that the fellow had a certain destination in view was made evident by his actions. during the day the place was lighted by large glazed windows at the ends and on each side, but at night these were closed with iron shutters. in the roof were several long skylights, and through them an occasional glare came from the lightning, which still fitfully shot athwart the sky. it was by the aid of one of these that the lad finally saw the intruder halt near a pile of tea chests. the flash lasted only an instant, but it brought out in clear relief the attenuated figure of the scoundrel. he was standing within reach of a number of boxes packed ready for shipment on the morrow. they were wrapped in straw matting, and nearby was a little heap of the same material to be used on other chests. it was highly inflammable. this fact recurred to the lad with startling significance, and he involuntarily hurried forward. before he could realize his mistake he was within a step of round. a slight cough from the latter caused nattie to abruptly check himself. with a gasp of excitement he shrank back, and slipped behind a large bale of silks. the next moment a blinding flash of lightning revealed the interior of the warehouse. before it died away the plucky lad peered forth, but only to find that a change had taken place in affairs. the ex-bookkeeper was not in sight. it was an unwelcome discovery, to say the least. with the enemy in view, it was easy to keep track of his intentions. now he might be retreating to any part of the vast "go-down" where in temporary security he could start a conflagration at his leisure. "i must find him at all hazards," muttered nattie, somewhat discomfited. "why didn't i bring matters to a point in the office? or why didn't i strike him down while i had the chance a moment ago? i'll not fool any more." grasping the iron lantern in readiness for instant use, he slipped forward step by step. at every yard he paused and listened intently. the silence was both oppressive and ominous. he would have given a great deal if even a rustle or a sigh had reached his ears. as time passed without incident the lad grew bolder. his anxiety spurred him on. he hastened his movements and peered from side to side in vain endeavor to pierce the gloom. where had the man gone? probably he was even then preparing to strike the match that would ignite the building. unable to endure longer the suspense, nattie swung into a side aisle and ran plump into some yielding object. there was a muttered cry of surprise and terror; then, in the space of a second, the interior resounded with shouts and blows and the hubbub of a struggle. at the very start nattie lost his only weapon. in the sudden and unexpected collision the lantern was dashed from his hand. before he could recover it he felt two sinewy arms thrown about his middle, then with a tug he was forced against a bale. it required only a moment for the athletic lad to free himself. long training at sports and games came to his aid. wriggling toward the floor, he braced himself and gave a mighty upward heave. at the same time, finding his arms released, he launched out with both clinched fists. there was a thud, a stifled cry, and then a pile of tea chests close at hand fell downward with a loud crash. quick to realize his opportunity, nattie slipped away and placed a large box between his antagonist and himself. the scrimmage had only served to increase his anxiety and anger. when he regained his breath he called out, hotly: "you confounded scoundrel, i'll capture you yet. i know you, willis round, and if this night's work don't place you in prison it'll not be my fault." the words had hardly passed his lips when the lad was unceremoniously brought to a realization of his mistake. there was a whiz and a crash and a small box dropped to the floor within a foot of him. he lost no time in shifting his position. "aha! two can play at that game," he muttered. picking up a similar object, he was on the point of throwing it haphazard when he became aware of a loud knocking in the direction of the door. almost frantic with relief and joy, he dropped the missile and started toward the spot. fortunately gaining the little apartment without mishap, he inserted his key in the lock with trembling hands, and attempted to turn it. just then a maudlin voice came from outside: "phwere is the lock, oi wonder? by the whiskers av st. patrick, oi never saw such a night. cronin, ye divil, yer fuller than duffy's goat. but ye are a good fellow. "'so oi seized th' capstan bar, like a true honest tar, and in spite----' "murther! oi can't git in at all, at all. oi'll go back to the bottle. me new friend has--hic--left me, but oi have his whiskey. here goes for th' house once more." disgusted at the discovery that it was only the tipsy watchman, nattie had again made his way back into the "go-down" proper. as he crossed the threshold of the door leading from the office, he heard the rattling of iron. the sound came from the far end. a second later there was a faint crash, and a gust of wind swept through the vast apartment. "he has opened a window. he is trying to escape." throwing all caution away, the lad recklessly dashed down the central passageway. it did not take him long to reach the spot. the fury of the storm caused the opened shutter to swing back and forth with a melancholy grinding of the hinges. climbing upon the sill, nattie slipped through the opening and dropped outside. he had barely reached the ground when he was suddenly seized, and, with a fierce effort, sent staggering across the walk separating the building from the canal. he made a frantic effort to save himself, but it was too late. with a shrill cry trembling upon his lips, he felt himself falling through space; then, with a loud splash, he struck the water's surface! chapter xiii. willis round escapes. no man, or boy, for that matter, knows just what he can do until put to the test. we may think we know the limit of our strength or endurance, but we cannot prove it until an emergency arises. then we are often found mistaken in our previous surmises, and, need it be said, much to our amazement. nature is a wise mother. she has provided in all a reserve force which only needs the touch of an exigency to cause it to appear full powered. a task is set before you--you cannot do it in your opinion; but you try--and succeed. you are in peril; only a miracle of strength or shrewdness will save you. involuntarily you act, and, lo! the miracle comes from your good right arm or your brain. a lad learning to swim places a dozen yards as the extent of his powers. he enters the water; is carried beyond his depth; swept away by an undertow, and swims successfully the length of three city blocks. it was his reserve force and the stimulating fear of death that brought him safely to shore. when nattie manning felt himself falling into the canal, sent there by willis round's cunning arm, he realized only one emotion, and that was rage--overpowering, consuming anger. he was wild with wrath to think that he had been tricked by the ex-bookkeeper, and the flames of his passion were not lessened by discomfiture. it seemed that he had barely touched the water before he was out, climbing hand over hand up the jagged stone side. to this day he does not know how he emerged so quickly, or by what latent force of muscle he dragged himself to the passageway. he gained the spot, however, and, thoroughly saturated with water, set out at the top of his speed after his assailant, whose shadowy figure scurried along in front of him toward the bay. what the lad hoped to accomplish he could not well tell himself, but he continued the pursuit with the keen determination of a bloodhound. a short distance back of the "go-down," a narrow street ran from the bluff to the center of the city. it crossed the canal with the aid of a low bridge, and was occupied by storehouses. the storm was passing away. the rain had slackened perceptibly, and the wind had died down to occasional puffs. in the south lightning could still be seen, but it was the mere glowing of atmospheric heat. in that part of yokohama devoted to mercantile warehouses, the street lamps were few and far between. there was one at the junction of the bridge and passageway, however, and when nattie dashed into its circle of illumination, he suddenly found himself confronted by a uniformed policeman. the latter immediately stretched out his arms and brought the lad to a halt. then drawing his short-sword, he demanded in peremptory tones the meaning of his haste. seeing the futility of resisting the official, nattie hurriedly made known his identity, and explained the events of the night. brief as was the delay, when the two started in pursuit of the fugitive, enough time had been wasted to permit him to escape. a hasty search of the neighborhood brought no results. willis round was out of reach. "no matter," remarked the lad, at last. "i know him, and it won't be difficult to apprehend the scoundrel." returning to the "go-down" with the officer, he closed the window and then dispatched the man to the nearest messenger office with a note for grant. in due time the police official returned with assistance. patrick cronin was found helplessly intoxicated in a nearby house, and unceremoniously lugged away to jail. the lame youth was prompt in his appearance on the scene. he brought with him a servant of the family, who was installed as watchman until the morrow. relieved from his responsibility, nattie accompanied his brother home, and after explaining the affair in detail, proceeded to take the rest he needed for the wrestling match of the next day. on reporting at the office the following morning, he found grant and mori still discussing willis round's actions. a report from the police stated that nothing had been accomplished. the fugitive was still at liberty, and in all probability had left the city. "i'll wager a _yen_ he is speeding as fast as the train can carry him to either nagasaki or kobe," remarked mori. "he'll try to get a ship and leave the country." grant shook his head doubtfully. "in my opinion, he will not do that," he said. "there are too many places in the interior where he can hide until this affair blows over." "if the scoundrel ever shows his face in yokohama i'll see that he is placed behind the bars," exclaimed nattie, vindictively. "he deserves little mercy at our hands. if an all-wise providence had not sent me to the 'go-down' last night we would now be considerably out of pocket." "what will we do with patrick cronin?" "discharge him; that's all. we can't prove any connection with round. the latter simply tempted him away from his duty with a bottle of whiskey. it will be impossible to bring a criminal charge against the irishman." "i will see that he remains in jail for a couple of weeks, anyway," decided grant. "he deserves some punishment." "when shall we close up?" asked nattie, gayly. "this is a great holiday, you know. we are due at the race track by ten." "it's a quarter past nine now," replied the young japanese, looking at his watch. "suppose we start at once?" the suggestion was acted upon with alacrity. leaving the office in charge of a native watchman, the three youths took _jinrikishas_ and proceeded to the "bluff," where the sports of the day were to take place. the storm of the preceding night had ended in delightful weather. the tropical rays of the sun were tempered by a cooling breeze from the bay. the air was glorious with briskness, and so clear that the majestic peak of fuji san seemed within touch. the city was in gala attire. banners of all nations were flaunting in the breeze, but after the japanese flag of the rising sun, the grand old stars and stripes predominated. it could not be said that the firm of manning brothers & okuma had failed in patriotism. streaming from a lofty flagstaff on the roof was an immense american ensign, and draping the _façade_ of the building were others intertwined with the standard of the country. the streets were decorated with arches and bunting, and every second native wore a little knot of red, white and blue. it was a unique celebration, from one point of view. many years before, the gallant commodore perry had sailed into the bay of yokohama with a message of good will from the then president of the united states to the ruler of japan. at that time the island kingdom was walled in by impassable bulwarks of exclusiveness and hatred of foreigners. for thousands of years she had calmly pursued her course of life, lost to civilization, and satisfied with her reign of idols and depths of barbarism. it required a strong hand to force a way to the central power, and time waited until the yankee commodore appeared with his fleet of ships. other nations had tried to pierce the barrier. england, france, germany made repeated attempts, but were repulsed. the dutch secured a foothold of trade, but on the most degrading terms. their representatives were compelled to approach the mikado and grovel upon their knees with heads bowed in the dust. in this debasing attitude were they greeted with the contempt they deserved, and as slaves to japan. much as americans desired commercial relations with the country, they would not accept them with humility. in the selection of an envoy the united states could not have decided on a better man than commodore perry, brother of the hero of lake erie. firm, implacable, intelligent, and generous withal, he was the fitting choice. on reaching japan he was met with refusals and evasions. he persisted, and finally the august ruler sent a minor official to confer with the foreigner. "i am here as personal representative of the united states of america, and i will see no one save the mikado himself, or his highest official," replied the bluff naval officer. "i have ten ships and two hundred guns, and here i stay until i am received with the formalities due my president." he finally won the point, and after the usual delay, a treaty was made between the two countries, to the amazement of the civilized world. this was the entering wedge which resulted in the japan of to-day. lifted from her barbarism, she has reached a high plane among nations. small wonder that her people celebrate the anniversary, and honor the memory of the immortal commodore perry. with apologies for this digression, i will again take up the thread of the story. chapter xiv. the beginning of the celebration. _en route_ to the "bluff" the boys came upon a curious procession. as stated above, the whole town was enjoying a _matsura_, or festival. as nattie aptly remarked, it was the fourth of july, decoration day and christmas thrown into one. in the present case the spectacle was one calculated to make a foreigner imagine himself in the interior of africa. approaching the _jinrikishas_ occupied by grant and his companions was a bullock cart, upon which a raised platform and scaffolding twenty feet high had been constructed. the bullock and all were covered with paper decorations, green boughs and artificial flowers. in front a girl with a grotesque mask danced and postured, while a dozen musicians twanged impossible instruments and kept up an incessant tattoo on drums. on foot around the _bashi_, as the whole structure is called, were twenty or thirty lads naked as to their legs, their faces chalked, their funny little heads covered with straw hats a yard wide, and their bodies clad in many-colored tunics, decked out with paper streamers and flowers. in front, on all sides, behind, and even under the wheels, were scores of children marching to the tune of the band--if it could be so called--much as the youths of america do in the processions, be it circus or otherwise, in our country. the boys forming the guard to the bullock cart marched step by step with military precision, chanting at the top of their voices, and banging upon the ground a long iron bar fitted with loose rings. the colors, the songs, the dance and the clanging iron, formed together a combination calculated to draw the attention of every person not deaf, dumb and blind. to the boys it was a common sight, and they bade their _karumayas_ hurry forward away from the din. on reaching the field on the "bluff," they found an immense throng awaiting the commencement of ceremonies. the race track had been laid out in fitting style, and innumerable booths, tents and _kiosks_ filled two-thirds of the space. the morning hours were to be devoted to ancient japanese games, and the time after tiffin to modern sports and matches, including the event of the day, the wrestling. mori okuma--an athlete in both european and native sports--was listed in a bout at japanese fencing, so he left his companions for a dressing-tent. nattie and grant glanced over the vast concourse of people, and exchanged bows with their many friends. the americans and english in foreign countries keep green in their memory the land of their birth, and in all places where more than one foreigner can be found a club is organized. it is a sort of oasis in the desert of undesirable neighbors, and forms a core around which cluster good fellowship and the habits and customs of home. the strangers' club in yokohama had a membership of six hundred, and they were well represented in the present assemblage. grant and nattie were well-known members, and they counted their friends by the hundred. in looking over the field the latter espied a group in the grand stand which immediately attracted his attention. he pointed them out to his brother. "there is mr. black and the two german merchants," he said. "they have their heads together as if discussing some weighty problem. i wonder where ralph is? he is interested in athletics." "i'll wager a _yen_ he is about somewhere. so the germans are hobnobbing with our esteemed enemy, eh? i'll warrant we are the subject of conversation. i don't like the way swartz and bauer conduct business, and i guess they know it. they can form an alliance if they wish to. we needn't lose any sleep over it." "there comes ralph. he is looking in this direction. i wonder what he thinks about the failure of his confederate, willis round, to injure us? to the deuce with them, anyway! the fencing is about to commence." the clapping of hands and a prolonged cheer proclaimed the beginning of the sports. the _yobidashi_, or caller-out, took his stand upon a decorated box, and announced a bout at fencing between the ever-pleasant and most worthy importing merchant, mori okuma, and the greatly-to-be-admired doctor-at-law, hashimoto choye. at the end of this ceremonious proclamation he introduced our friend and his antagonist. both were small in stature, and they presented rather a comical appearance. each was padded out of all proportions with folds of felt and leather. upon their heads were bonnet-shaped helmets of metal, and each wore a jacket of lacquered pieces decidedly uncomfortable to the eye. at the word of command attendants rushed in with the weapons. these were not broadswords, rapiers, nor cutlasses, but a curious instrument composed of a number of strips of bamboo, skillfully wrought together and bound. the end was covered with a soft skin bag, and the handle was very much like that of an ordinary sword. armed with these the combatants faced each other, and at the sound of a mellow bell fell to with the utmost ferocity. slash, bang, whack, went the weapons; the fencers darted here and there, feinted, prodded, cut and parried, as if they had to secure a certain number of strikes before the end of the bout. it was all very funny to those unaccustomed to the japanese style of fencing, and the naval officers from the various warships in port roared with laughter. to the natives it was evidently deeply interesting, and they watched the rapid play of the weapons as we do the gyrations of our favorite pitcher in the national game. at the end of five minutes the game was declared finished. the umpire, an official of the city government, decided in favor of mori, and that youth fled to the dressing-tent to escape the plaudits of the audience. he received the congratulations of grant and nattie with evident pleasure, however. the next item on the programme was a novel race between trained storks. then came a creeping match between a score of native youngsters, and so the morning passed with jugglery and racing and many sports of the ancient island kingdom. at noon tiffin was served to the club and its guests in a large pavilion placed in the center of the grounds. the ceremonies recommenced at two o'clock with a running match between a dozen trained athletes. of all the spectators, probably the happiest was grant manning. deprived of participation in the various sports by his deformity, he seemed to take a greater interest from that very fact. he clapped his hands and shouted with glee at every point, and was the first to congratulate the winners as they left the track. the time for the great event of the day finally arrived. at three the master of ceremonies, clad in _kamishimo_, or ancient garb, mounted his stand and announced in stentorian tones: "the next event on the programme will be a contest in wrestling between six gentlemen of this city. those persons whose names are listed with the secretary will report in the dressing-tent." "that calls me," cried nattie, gayly. "boys, bring out your rabbits' feet and your lucky coins." "you don't know the name of your antagonist?" asked mori. "no; nor will i until we enter the ring. small matter. i feel in fine trim, and i intend to do the best i can. so long." "luck with you, nattie," called out all within hearing, casting admiring glances after the handsome, athletic lad. directly in front of the grand stand a ring had been constructed something after the fashion of the old-time circus ring. the surface was sprinkled with a soft, black sand, and the ground carefully leveled. overhead stretched a canopy of matting, supported by a number of bamboo poles wrapped in red, white and blue bunting. at the four corners of the arena were mats for the judges, and in the center an umpire in gorgeous costume took his place. by permission of the nomino sakune jinsha society, which controls the national game of wrestling in the empire, their hereditary judges were to act in the present match. after nattie disappeared in the dressing-tent a short delay occurred. as usual, the audience indicated their impatience with shouts and calls, and the ever-present small boy made shrill noises upon various quaint instruments. suddenly a herald with a trumpet emerged from the tent, and the vast concourse became quiet. he sounded a blast, the canvas flaps of two openings were pulled aside, and two lads bare as to chest and with legs clad in trunks bounded into the arena. a murmur of surprise came from the audience; the antagonists faced each other, and then glared a bitter defiance. from one entrance had come nattie manning, and from the other--ralph black! chapter xv. the wrestling match. nattie's several encounters with the younger member of the english firm had been duly discussed in the club, and the discomfiture of the elder merchant during his call upon grant had been a toothsome morsel for the gossipers of the city. the enmity between the houses of manning and black was the common talk among the foreigners of yokohama. they were aware of the cause of the trouble, and knew the suspicions concerning the payment of the now-famous debt. and when the opening of the flaps in the dressing-tent had disclosed the youths destined to face each other for the supremacy of the wrestling ring, a murmuring sound rolled through the concourse like the echoes of a passing wind. "it's young black and nattie manning!" cried more than one. "whew! there will be a warm tussle now." over in one corner of the grand stand grant and mori sat in amazement. the _dénouement_ was entirely unexpected to them. not long did they remain silent. up sprang the lame youth, his kindly face glowing with excitement. mounting a vacant chair despite his infirmity, he shook a bundle of english notes in the air, and shouted: "ten to one on my brother! ten to one! ten to one! twenty pounds even that he secures the first two points! whoop! where are the backers of the other side? i'll make it fifteen to one in five-pound notes. who will take the bet?" in the meantime mori had not been idle. forcing his way directly to where mr. black was sitting with the germans, he shook a bag of coin in the air, and dared them to place a wager with him. following his example came half a dozen american friends of the new firm, and presently the grand stand resounded with the cries of eager bettors. down in the arena nattie and ralph stood confronting one another like tigers in a forest jungle. the former's face was set with determination. he had long wished for just such an opportunity. it had come at last. ralph's face wore a peculiar pallor. it was not fear, but rather that of one who felt the courage of desperation. he well knew there was little difference in physical strength between them, but he appeared to lack the stamina of honesty and merit. both lads were in the pink of condition, and they formed a picture appealing to the hearts of all lovers of athletics. there was not an ounce of superfluous flesh on either. if anything, ralph was slightly taller, but nattie's arms gave promise of greater length and muscle. presently the din in the grand stand ceased. wagers had been given and taken on both sides with great freedom. grant had collapsed into a chair with his purse empty and his notebook covered with bets. mori was still seeking takers with great persistency. a blast was sounded on the herald's trumpet, and the eyes of the vast audience were centered on the ring. the judges took their places, the umpire hopped to the middle, and with a wave of his fan gave the signal. nattie and ralph faced each other, eye to eye. slowly sinking down until their hands rested upon their knees, they waited for an opportunity to grapple. the silence was intense. the far-away echoes of a steamer's whistle came from the distant bay. a chant of voices sounding like the murmur of humming-birds was wafted in from a neighboring temple. the hoarse croaking of a black crow--the city's scavenger--came from a circling figure overhead. a minute passed. nattie straightened. ralph followed his example. warily they approached each other. face to face, and eye to eye; intent upon every step, they began to march sideways; always watching, always seeking for an opening. their hands twitched in readiness for a dash, a grip, a tug. each had his weight thrown slightly forward, and his shoulders slouched a little, watching for an unwary move. nattie feinted suddenly. his right arm darted out, he touched ralph's shoulder, but the english youth dodged, only to be grasped by the waist by his antagonist's left hand. there was a sharp tug, a whirl of the figures, then they broke away, each still upon his feet. a vast sigh came from the audience, and grant chuckled almost deliriously. the antagonists rested, still confronting each other. ralph's pallor had given way to an angry flush. his lips moved as if muttering oaths. nattie remained cool and imperturbable. his was the advantage. coolness in combat is half the battle. those in the audience that had risked their money upon the merchant's son began to regret their actions. the match was not won, however. at the end of five minutes a signal came from the umpire. before the flash of his brilliantly decorated fan had vanished from the eyes of the audience, nattie darted forward and clashed breast to breast against ralph. the latter put forth his arms blindly, gropingly; secured a partial hold of his opponent's neck, essayed a backward lunge, but in the hasty effort stumbled and suddenly found himself upon his back with the scattering gusts of sand settling around him. and then how the grand stand rang with cheers! "first bout for manning!" "a fair fall, and a great one!" high above the tumult of sounds echoed a shrill voice: "thirty to one on my brother! i offer it in sovereigns! take it up if you dare!" the victor stood modestly bowing from side to side, but there was a glitter of pride in his eyes which told of the pleasure he felt--doubly a pleasure, because his antagonist was ralph black. the latter had been assisted to his feet by the men appointed for the purpose. he was trembling in every limb, but it was from rage, not exhaustion. his breath came in short, quick gasps, and he glared at nattie as if meditating an assault. again the umpire's fan gave the signal, and once more the combatants faced each other for the second point. and now happened a grievous thing for our heroes. nattie was not ordinarily self-assured. there was no room in his character for conceit; but his triumph in the present case caused him to make a very serious mistake. he failed at this critical moment to bear in mind moltke's famous advice: "he who would win in war must put himself in his enemy's place." flushed with his victory he entered into the second bout with a carelessness that brought him to disaster in the twinkling of an eye. ralph black, smarting under defeat, kept his wits about him, however, and, adopting his opponent's tactics, made a fierce rush at the instant of the signal. grasping nattie by the waist, he forced him aside, and then backward with irresistible force. the result--the lad found himself occupying almost the same spot of earth which bore ralph's former imprint. now was the time for the opposition to cheer, and that they did right royally. counter shouts came from the american faction, and again grant and mori's voices arose above the tumult inviting wagers. five minutes of rest, then came the time for the final and decisive bout. it was with very different feelings that nattie passed to the center of the ring now. his handsome face plainly bespoke humiliation, but there was a flash of the eyes which also announced a grim and desperate determination. it was like that of ben hur when he swept around the arena with his chargers on the last circle. ralph was plainly elated. he paused long enough to wave one hand toward a group of friends; then the twain faced for the last time. it was evident from the outset that the bout would not last very long. warily, and with the utmost caution, the lads confronted each other. side by side they edged and retreated. a silence as of the tombs of forgotten races fell upon the audience. suddenly--no man's eyes were quick enough to see the start--nattie dropped almost on all fours at ralph's feet. he lunged forward, grasped the english youth's hips, then with a mighty effort which brought the blood in a scarlet wave to his face, he surged upward, and, with a crash, the merchant's son lay a motionless heap in the center of the arena! and the match was won! chapter xvi. after the victory. the match was won, and nattie had come out victorious. there was an instant of silence after the clever throw--silence like that which precedes a storm--then the grounds rang with a tumult of applause. with shouts and yells, with clapping of hands and piercing whistles the vast audience proclaimed their appreciation. men nearer the ring climbed over the low railing and lifting the blushing lad to their shoulders, formed the nucleus of a triumphal procession. around the arena they marched until at last nattie struggled free by main force. retreating to the dressing-tent, he disappeared within its shelter, followed by grant and mori. the latter were so filled with joy that they could not find qualifying words in either language, so they shouted alternately in japanese and english. in the meantime the defeated wrestler had been brought to a realization of his discomfiture by his father and several surgeons. the fall had stunned him, but no bones were broken. leaning on his parent, he retired to a _jinrikisha_ and left the field without changing his costume. in the dressing-tent nattie and his companions were holding gay carnival over the victory. the little apartment was crowded with americans, both civilian and naval, and it soon became evident that the triumph was being regarded as an international affair. it was a victory of the american element over the english. the difference between nattie and ralph had given way to something of greater importance. through some unexplained reason a strong undercurrent of jealousy exists between members of the two countries in foreign climes, and evidences crop to the surface at intervals. it generally manifests itself in just such occasions as the present, and from the moment nattie and ralph were matched together in the arena, the american and english took sides with their respective countrymen. the overwhelming importance of the first match detracted all interest from those following, and the celebration was soon brought to a close. nattie and his companions finally escaped from the field. at grant's invitation a number of the americans accompanied him to a well-known tea house in the city where dinner was served in honor of the occasion. of course the victor was the lion of the feast, but he bore his honors modestly. on being called upon for a speech he displayed greater trepidation than when he confronted his antagonist in the arena. at last yielding to the vociferous invitation, he arose from his chair and said, bluntly: "i am no hand to talk, my friends. in our firm my brother grant is my mouthpiece. but i can say that i appreciate this honor, and that i am almighty glad i defeated ralph black. i guess you know the reason why. i thank you for your kindness." then he abruptly resumed his seat, amid the cheers of the party who voted him a good fellow with the enthusiasm of such occasions. the impromptu banquet came to an end in due time, and the coming of the morrow found the boys again at work in the counting-room of manning brothers & okuma. it was with a chuckle of great satisfaction that grant counted up the results of his wagers made in the grand stand. he checked off each item with glee, and finally announced to his companions that he was three hundred pounds ahead. "i don't care a broken penny for the money," he said. "in fact, i intend to turn it over to the hospital fund, but it's the fact of beating those englishmen that tickles me. nattie, if you had permitted ralph black to throw you in that last bout i would have disowned you and retired to a shinton monastery." "my, what a fate i saved you from!" grinned his brother. "fancy you a monk with that hoppity-skip foot of yours. but how is ralph? have either of you heard?" "some one told me this morning that he was feeling very sore--in spirits," laughed mori. "they say he took the early train for kobe, where he intends to stay until his humiliation has a chance to disappear." "i'll wager a _yen_ yesterday's work has not increased his liking for us," carelessly remarked the lame youth. "what did you get out of his father and those germans, mori? i saw you hovering about them with a bag of coin. did the old man do any betting?" "five hundred dollars. i gave him odds of seven to one. i also have the german merchants, swartz and bauer, listed for a cool thousand. whew! won't they groan in bitterness of spirit when i send over for the money?" "i only regret one thing in the whole affair," said nattie. "and that is my confounded carelessness in permitting ralph to throw me in the second bout. it was a case of 'swell-head,' i suppose. the first throw was so easy i thought all the rest would be like it. however, all's well that ends well. the match is won, and the english will sing low for a time." during the balance of the week the members of the new firm labored early and late arranging their shipments of tea and silks. each steamer carried a consignment of goods to america, and in return came cargoes of merchandise, flour, printed goods, machinery and wool. the events of the past few days had advertised the firm to such an extent that the volume of business became burdensome. in due course of time the flood of money turned and began to flow back into the coffers. bills outstanding at short periods matured, and the bank account assumed healthy proportions. mori was compelled to withdraw his last loan of thirty thousand dollars, given at a most critical point in the firm's brief existence despite his protest. at the end of the third week two extra warehouses were leased, and the clerical force in the office doubled. all this was very comforting to grant and his associates, but there still remained a more valuable prize. the rumors of war between china and japan, which had bubbled to the surface of the political caldron many times during the past year, now began to attract public attention. the government disclaimed any idea of impending war, but it quietly proceeded with its preparations at the same time. it was known among the merchants that a large order for arms and ammunition would be given out on the first day of august, and the competition became very keen. through his personal friendship with the secretary of war, and the integrity of the new firm, grant was acknowledged as possessing the best chance. there was one company, however, that had not given up hope of securing the prize, and that was the firm of black & son. the reader will doubtless remember the meeting held in the english merchant's office between father and son and the ex-bookkeeper, willis round. at that consultation the latter had disclosed a plan for the defeat of grant manning. the affair of the "go-down," when round was foiled in his attempt to start a conflagration, delayed the schemes of the conspirators, but the near approach of the time for awarding the valuable contract, again found them at work. mr. black was the only one of the three present in yokohama. willis round was an exile for obvious reasons, and ralph chose to absent himself after the wrestling match on the seventh of july. by arrangement the twain met in an interior village north of the capital, where they schemed and plotted for the downfall of their enemies. at the expiration of two weeks patrick cronin was released from jail and advised by the authorities to leave the country. thus everything promised peace for our heroes, and the prosperity of honest labor fell to their lot day by day. all three were too shrewd to allow such a pleasant state of affairs to lull their watchfulness. they knew that in war silence is ominous, and that many a maneuver is projected under the veil of a temporary truce. as it came to pass, however, something occurred that deceived even nattie's suspicious eye. chapter xvii. the turning up of a bad penny and its results. nattie's duties as warehouseman and shipper of the firm took him aboard the shipping of the port day by day. when a consignment of tea or silk was conveyed from the "go-down" in lighters to the steamers riding at anchor in the bay, the lad would visit the vessels to see that the goods were checked properly. also when the smaller coasting craft would arrive from other ports with cargoes from the local agents of the firm, nattie's duty carried him on board to sign the receipts. one morning while on the latter journey to a coaster from kobe he was surprised to see an old acquaintance among the crew. it was the recreant watchman, patrick cronin. still harboring resentment for the fellow's actions on that memorable night when willis round made his dastardly attempt to fire the "go-down" with its valuable contents, nattie passed him without recognition. after attending to his business on board, he started to leave the little steamer. as he was preparing to descend to his cutter, he felt a touch upon his shoulder. turning, he saw patrick with an expression of great humility upon his rugged face. "what is it?" asked nattie, sharply. "i beg your pardon, sir, but could oi have a bit of a talk wid yer?" replied the irishman, pleadingly. "well, what do you wish to say? make haste; i am in a hurry." "could yer step back here a bit where we won't be overheard, sir? it's something of interest to yourself oi have to say, sir. maybe ye'll think it's valuable information oi have before oi'm through." laughing incredulously, nattie walked over to the break of the forecastle, and bade his companion proceed with his yarn. he thought it would prove to be a sly attempt to secure another position with the firm, and he firmly intended to refuse the request. "now what is it?" he again demanded, impatiently. "it's mad ye are at me, oi suppose?" "see here, patrick cronin, if you have anything to tell me, speak out. my time is too valuable to waste just now. if you intend to ask for a situation with the firm you had better save your breath. one experience with you is enough." instead of becoming angry at this plain talk, patrick set to chuckling with good humor. "oi don't blame yer for being down on me," he said, with what seemed very like a wink. "oi should not have let that spalpane tempt me wid th' drink. oi have it in for him, and by th' same token that's why oi'm now talking to yer." "do you know where willis round is?" quickly asked nattie. "maybe oi do, and maybe oi don't. it's for you to say, sir." "for me to say? what have i to do with it?" "would yer like to capture him?" asked patrick, cunningly. nattie thought a moment before replying. would it really be worth the candle to bring the ex-bookkeeper to justice? the chase might entail a journey and some expense. but then would it not be advisable for the sake of future peace to have round behind prison bars? "as long as he is at liberty," thought the lad, "we can expect trouble. this chance of disarming him should not be neglected." "yes; i would very much like to capture the fellow," he added, aloud. "i suppose you know where he is, or you would not mention the subject." "i do know his whereabouts this blessed minute." "well?" the irishman leered significantly. "ah, you wish to sell the information, i suppose?" said nattie, a light breaking in upon him. "it's wise ye are." "can you tell me exactly where he is, so that i can send and have him arrested?" "no, no. ye mustn't send the police, sir. if ye want to capture the spalpane ye must go yerself, or wid a friend. the boobies of officers would spoil everything. if oi give the man away oi must be sure he will be put in prison, as he'd kill me for informing on him." "oh, i see," said nattie, contemptuously. "you wish to save your precious skin. well, if it is worth while i'll go for him myself, or probably take mori. now where is he?" "is the information worth twenty pounds, sir?" "no; decidedly not." patrick looked discomfited. "but think of th' good oi'm doing yer," he pleaded. "mister round is a bad man, and he'll keep yer in a torment of suspense until ye put him away. won't ye make it twenty pounds, sir?" "no." "then how much?" "half that is a big amount for the information." "call it twelve pounds, and it's a bargain." "all right; but understand, you are not to get a cent until the man is captured." "oh, oi'll agree to that. oi'll go wid yer if ye pay the fare." "very well. now where is willis round?" "he's stopping in nagasaki." "nagasaki? what part?" "that oi'll show yer in due time. he's hid away in a place ye wouldn't dream of lookin' into. when do you want to start, sir?" "as soon as possible. we can leave on the evening train and reach there by daylight. get your discharge from the steamer and report to me at the station about six o'clock." "and who will ye take besides me, sir? it'll be just as well to have a mate, as there's no telling what'll happen." nattie eyed the speaker keenly. "so you think there will be no trouble in effecting the capture, eh?" he said. "no; but it's a good thing to be prepared in this worruld." "there is more truth than poetry in that," was the grim reply. "i think mr. okuma will accompany me. he intended to run down in that direction before long, anyway. now don't fail, patrick. be at the station at six." the ex-watchman waved his hand in assent as the lad entered his boat, then he retreated to the forecastle with an expression of great satisfaction upon his face. during the balance of the morning he proceeded about his work with evident good humor. shortly before noon he borrowed a piece of paper and an envelope from the purser, and laboriously indited a letter with the stump of a lead pencil. sealing the epistle, he wrote upon the back: "mister jesse black, esq., "the bund, forninst main street, "yokohammer, japan." after regarding his work with complacency, he asked the captain for his discharge. on being paid off, he went ashore and disappeared in the direction of the general post office. in the meantime nattie had returned to the office, supremely unconscious of patrick's duplicity. he found grant and mori making up the invoices for a cargo of lacquered ware. he explained his news at once. "it's a good chance to strike black & son a blow they will be not likely to forget in a hurry," he added, throwing himself into a chair. "perhaps we can get a confession from the fellow, also." "you mean about that debt?" asked mori. "yes. when he is compelled to face a five years' sentence for attempted arson perhaps he'll 'split' on his confederates. in that case if it turns out as we suspect, the english firm will be wiped out." grant shook his head doubtfully. "i do not like the source of your information, nattie," he said. "in my opinion, patrick cronin is not to be trusted." "oh, he's all right. he has it in for round for playing him such a trick, and he is trying to get even. then the twelve pounds is something to him." "we might run down to nagasaki," thoughtfully remarked the japanese youth. "i intended to drum up trade in that direction, anyway. it will be a nice little trip, even if nothing comes of it." "something tells me that it will be a wild-goose chase," replied grant. "you can try it, though. i can spare both of you for three or four days about now. you need a vacation, anyway." "what about yourself, brother?" asked nattie, generously. "you have worked harder than either of us. why can't you come also?" "what, and leave the business go to the dogs! oh, no, my dear boy. what would i do with a vacation? i am never happier than when i am pouring over accounts in this office, believe me. get away with you now. run home and pack up for your trip. but let me give you a bit of advice." "what is it?" "take revolvers, and see that the cartridges are in good condition. also, don't go poking about the suburbs of nagasaki without a squad of police." "one would think we are bound after a band of outlaws in the indian territory at home," laughed nattie. "willis round is not such a formidable man as all that." "no; but you don't know who else you may have to contend with. another thing: keep your eye on patrick cronin. good-by." on reaching the station that evening mori and nattie found the irishman awaiting their arrival. he was all smiles and good humor, and his rugged face was as guileless as that of a new-born babe. verily the human countenance is not always an index to one's true nature. "it's plazed oi am to see yer, gentlemen," he said, suavely. "i did think ye might be after changing yer minds. it's near train time now." "we are here," replied nattie, briefly. "get into the car." he purchased three tickets, for nagasaki by way of kobe and followed them into the train. a moment later the long line of coaches left the station and rolled rapidly on into the night. after a brief stop at kobe, which was reached shortly before daybreak, the train resumed its course along the edge of the sea. a short distance from the city the tracks were laid directly upon the coast, only a parapet of stone separating the rails from the water's edge. feeling restless and unable to sleep, nattie left his bed, and throwing on his outer clothing, stepped out upon the platform. he was presently joined by mori, and the twain stood watching the flitting panorama. a storm, which had been gathering in the south, presently broke, lashing the broad surface of the sea into an expanse of towering waves. as the gale increased in force, the caps of water began to break over the parapet in salty spray. "whew! i guess we had better beat a retreat," exclaimed mori, after receiving an extra dash of moisture. "wait a moment," pleaded nattie. "i hate to leave such a grand scene. what a picture the angry seas make! my! that was a tremendous wave! it actually shook the train." "murder and saints!" groaned a voice at his elbow. "phwat is the matter, sir? is it going to sea we are in a train of cars? 'tis the first time patrick cronin ever traveled on a craft without masts or hull. oi think it do be dangerous along here, saving yer presence." before either nattie or mori could reply to the evidently truthful remark, a line of water, curling upward in threatening crests, dashed over the parapet and fairly deluged the platforms. it was with the greatest difficulty the three could retain their hold. now thoroughly alarmed, they endeavored to enter the car. suddenly the speed of the train became lessened, then it stopped altogether. a moment later the grinding of heavy driving wheels was heard, and the line of coaches began to back up the track. it was a precaution taken too late. before the cars had obtained much headway a wall of glistening water was hurled over the parapet with resistless force, sweeping everything before it. amid the shouts and screams of a hundred victims the coaches and engine were tumbled haphazard from the track, piling up in a mass of wreckage against the cliff. chapter xviii. evil tidings. to those who have not experienced the coming of sudden disaster, word descriptions are feeble. it is easy to tell how this and that occurred; to speak of the wails and cries of the injured; to try to depict the scene in sturdy english, but the soul-thrilling terror, the horror, and physical pain of the moment must be felt. in the present case the accident was so entirely unexpected that the very occurrence carried an added quota of dreadful dismay. the spot had never been considered unsafe. at the time of construction eminent engineers had decided that it would be perfectly feasible to lay the rails close to the edge of the sea. a stout parapet of stone afforded ample protection, in their opinion, but they had not gauged the resistless power of old ocean. the coming of a fierce south wind worked the mischief, and in much less time than is required in the telling, the doomed train was cast a mass of wreckage against the unyielding face of the cliff. the first crash extinguished the lights, adding impenetrable darkness to the scene. it found nattie and mori within touch of each other. they instinctively grouped together; but a second and more violent wrench of the coach sent them flying in different directions. the instinct of life is strong in all. the drowning wretch's grasp at a straw is only typical of what mortals will do to keep aglow the vital spark. terror-stricken, and stunned from the force of the shock, nattie still fought desperately for existence. he felt the coach reeling beneath his feet, he was tossed helplessly like a truss of hay from side to side, and then almost at his elbow he heard a familiar voice shrieking: "mercy! mercy! the blessed saints have mercy upon a poor sinner. oi'm sorry for me misdeeds. oi regret that oi was even now going against the law. oi confess that oi meant to lead them two young fellows away so that----" the words ended in a dreadful groan as the car gave a violent lurch, then nattie felt a shock of pain and he lost consciousness. when he came to, it was to find the bright sun shining in his face. it was several moments before he could recognize his surroundings. a sound as of persons moaning in agony brought back the dreadful truth. he found himself lying upon a stretcher, and near at hand were others, each bearing a similar burden. the temporary beds were stretched along the face of the cliff. a dozen feet away was a huge mass of shattered coaches and the wreck of a locomotive. a number of japanese were still working amid the _débris_, evidently in search of more victims of the disaster. nattie attempted to rise, but the movement caused him excruciating pain in the left shoulder. a native, evidently a surgeon, was passing at the moment, and noticing the action, he said, with a smile of encouragement: "just keep quiet, my lad. you are all right, merely a dislocation. do not worry, we will see that you are well taken care of." "but my friend?" replied the boy, faintly. "his name is mori okuma, and he was near me when the accident occurred. can you tell me anything of him? is he safe?" "is he one of my countrymen, a youth like yourself, and clad in tweed?" "yes, yes." "well, i can relieve your anxiety," was the cheering reply. "he is working like a trooper over there among the coaches. it was he who rescued you and brought you here. wait; i will call him." a moment later mori made his appearance, but how sadly changed was his usually neat appearance. his hat was gone, his clothing torn and disordered, and his face grimed with dust and dirt. he laughed cheerily, however, on seeing nattie, and made haste to congratulate him on his escape. "this is brave," he exclaimed. "you will soon be all right, old boy. no, don't try to get up; your arm is dislocated at the shoulder, and perfect quiet is absolutely necessary." "but i can't lie here like a stick, mori," groaned the lad. "what's a dislocation, anyway? it shouldn't keep a fellow upon his back." "you had better take the doctor's advice. the relief train will start for kobe before long, and once in a good hotel, you can move about. this is a terrible accident. fully twenty persons have lost their lives, and as many more wounded." "have you seen anything of patrick cronin?" "no, nothing. it is thought several bodies were carried out to sea when the water rolled back after tearing away the parapet. his may be one of them." the irishman's words, heard during the height of the turmoil, returned to nattie. he now saw the significance of the irishman's cry. "something is up, mori," he said, gravely, explaining the matter. "it certainly seems as if patrick was leading us on a wild-goose chase." "that was grant's impression, anyway. did the fellow really use those words?" "yes, and he evidently told the truth. he was in fear of death, and he confessed aloud that he was leading us away so that something could happen. at the interesting moment his voice died away to a groan, then i lost consciousness." "what do you think he could have meant?" "it is something to do with the blacks, i'll wager." "but does he know them?" "he is acquainted with willis round, and that is the same thing." mori seemed doubtful. "you don't think he intended to lead us into a trap?" he asked, incredulously. "hardly, but----" "grant?" nattie sat up in the stretcher despite the pain the effort caused him. "mori, we must communicate with him at once," he said. "there is no telling what could happen while we are away. confound it! i'll never forgive myself if this should prove to be a ruse. can you telegraph from here?" "no, we must wait until we reach kobe. now don't excite yourself, my dear fellow. you will only work into a fever, and that will retard your recovery. i really think we are mistaken. but even if it should prove true, it won't mend matters by making yourself worse." the lad fell back with a groan. he acknowledged the wisdom of mori's remark, and he remained quiet until the relief train finally carried him with the balance of the survivors to the city they had recently left. mori hastened to the telegraph office after seeing his charge to a hotel. what nattie suffered in spirit during the japanese youth's absence can only be measured by the great love he bore his crippled brother. the very thought that something had happened to him was anguish. he knew that grant was bravery itself despite his physical disability, and that he would not hesitate to confront his enemies single-handed. when the turning of the door knob proclaimed mori's return, nattie actually bounded from the bed and met him halfway. one glance at the japanese youth's face was enough. evil news was written there with a vivid brush. in one hand he held a telegram, which he gave to his companion without a word. chapter xix. bad news confirmed. nattie took the telegram with a sinking heart. he had already read disquieting news in mori's face, and for a moment he fumbled at the paper as if almost afraid to open it. finally mustering up courage, he scanned the following words: "message received. grant cannot be found. he left office at usual time last night, but did not appear at his home. have done nothing in the matter yet. wire instructions. sorry to hear of accident." it was signed by the chief bookkeeper, a scotchman, named burr. he was a typical representative of his race, canny, hard-headed, and thoroughly reliable. sentiment had no place in his nature, but he was as impregnable in honesty as the crags of his own country. poor nattie read the telegram a second, then a third time. the words seemed burned into his brain. there could be only one meaning: grant manning had met with disaster. but where, and how? and through whom? the last question was easily answered. "mori," he said, with a trembling voice, "this is the work of the blacks and that scoundrel, willis round." "something may have happened, but we are not yet certain," gravely replied the japanese youth. "surely grant could take a day off without our thinking the worse." "you do not know my brother," answered the lad, steadfastly. "he hasn't a bad habit in the world, and the sun is not more regular than he. no, something has happened, and we must leave for yokohama by the first train." "it is simply impossible for you to go," expostulated mori. "the doctor said you must not stir from bed for three days at the very least. i will run down at once, but you must remain here." "if the affair was reversed, grant would break the bounds of his tomb to come to me," nattie replied, simply. "send for a surgeon and ask him to fix this shoulder for traveling. i want to leave within an hour." the young japanese threw up both hands in despair, but he left without further words. in due time the man of medicine appeared and bandaged the dislocated member. a few moments later nattie and mori boarded the train for the north. as the string of coaches whirled through valley and dell, past paddy fields with their queer network of ridges and irrigating ditches; past groups of open-eyed natives dressed in the quaint blue costumes of the lower classes; through small clusters of thatched bamboo houses, each with its quota of cheerful, laughing babies, tumbling about in the patches of gardens much as the babies of other climes do, nattie fell to thinking of the great misfortune which had overtaken the firm. "if something has happened to grant--which may god forbid--it will be greatly to the interest of jesse black," he said, turning to his companion. "everything points in their direction. the first question in such a case is, who will it benefit?" "you refer to the army contracts?" "yes. it means to the person securing them a profit of over one hundred thousand dollars, and that is a prize valuable enough to tempt a more scrupulous man than the english merchant." "i think you are right. if grant has been waylaid, or spirited away, which is yet to be proven, we have something to work on. we will know where to start the search." yokohama was reached by nightfall. mori had telegraphed ahead, and they found mr. burr, a tall, grave man with a sandy beard, awaiting them. he expressed much sympathy for nattie's condition, and then led the way to the _jinrikishas_. "i can explain matters better in the office," he said, in answer to an eager question. "'tis an uncou' night eenyway, and we'll do better under shelter." compelled to restrain their impatience perforce, his companions sank back in silence and watched the nimble feet of the _karumayas_ as they trotted along the streets on the way to the bund. turning suddenly into the broad, well-lighted main street, they overtook a man pacing moodily toward the bay. as they dashed past, nattie glanced at him; then, with an imprecation, the lad stood up in his vehicle. a twinge of pain in the disabled shoulder sent him back again. noting the action, mori looked behind him, and just in time to see the man slip into a convenient doorway. it was mr. black. "keep cool, nattie," he called out. "confronting him without proof won't help us." "but did you see how he acted when he caught sight of us?" "yes, and it meant guilt. he tried to dodge out of our sight." on reaching the office, mr. burr led the way inside. lighting the gas, he placed chairs for his companions, and seated himself at his desk. "noo i will explain everything," he said, gravely. "but first tell me if ye anticipate anything serious? has mr. grant absented himself before?" "never," nattie replied to the last question. "weel, then, the situation is thus: last night he left here at the usual hour and took a _'rikisha_ in front of the door. i was looking through the window at the time, and i saw him disappear around the corner of main street. i opened the office this morning at eight by the clock, and prepared several papers and checks for his signature. time passed and he did na' show oop. "at eleven i sent a messenger to the house on the 'bluff.' the boy returned with the information from the servants that mr. grant had not been home. somewhat alarmed, i sent coolies through the town to all the places where he might have called, but without results. i received your telegram and answered it at once. and that's all i know." the information was meager enough. nattie and mori exchanged glances of apprehension. their worst fears were realized. that some disaster had happened to grant was now evident. the former sprang to his feet and started toward the door without a word. "where are you going?" asked the japanese youth, hastily. "to see mr. black," was the determined reply. "the villain is responsible for this." "but what proof can you present? don't do anything rash, nattie. we must talk it over and consider the best plan to be followed. we must search for a clew." "and in the meantime they will kill him. oh, mori, i can't sit here and parley words while my brother is in danger. i know ralph black and his father. they would not hesitate at anything to make money. even human life would not stop them." "that may be. still, you surely can see that we must go slow in the matter. believe me, grant's disappearance affects me even more than if he was a near relative. i intend to enter heart and soul into the search for him. everything i possess, my fortune, all, is at his disposal. but i must counsel patience." the tears welled in nattie's eyes. he tried to mutter his thanks, but his emotion was too great. he extended his hand, and it was grasped by the young native with fraternal will. the scot had been eying them with his habitual placidity. the opening of a crater under the office floor would not have altered his calm demeanor. "weel, now," he said, slowly, "can you no explain matters to me? i am groping about in the dark." "you shall be told everything," replied mori. he speedily placed him in possession of all the facts. mr. burr listened to the story without comment. at the conclusion he said, in his quiet way: "i am no great hand at detective work, but i can see as far thro' a millstone as any mon with twa gude eyes. mister grant has been kidnaped, and ye don't need to look farther than the black's for a clew." "that is my opinion exactly," exclaimed nattie. "i am with you both," said mori, "but i still insist that we go slow in accusing them. it stands to reason that to make a demand now would warn the conspirators--for such they are--that we suspect them. we must work on the quiet." "you are right, sir," agreed mr. burr. "what is your plan?" asked nattie, with natural impatience. "it is to place mr. burr in charge of the business at once, and for us to start forth in search of possible clews. i will try to put a man in the black residence, and another in his office. we must hire a number of private detectives--i know a dozen--and set them to work scouring the city. the station master, the keeper of every road, the railway guards, all must be closely questioned. and in the meantime, while i am posting mr. burr, you must go home and keep as quiet as you can. remember, excitement will produce inflammation in that shoulder, and inflammation means many days in bed." the authoritative tone of the young japanese had its effect. grumbling at his enforced idleness, nattie left the office and proceeded to the "bluff." mori remained at the counting-room, and carefully drilled the scotchman in the business on hand. chapter xx. the man beyond the hedge. it was past midnight when he finally left with mr. burr, but the intervening time had not been wasted. orders, contracts and other details for at least a week had been explained to the bookkeeper, and he was given full powers to act as the firm's representative. after a final word of caution, mori parted with him at the door, and took a _'rikisha_ for the manning residence. he found nattie pacing the floor of the front veranda. the lad greeted him impatiently. "have you heard anything?" he asked. "not a word. i have been busy at the office since you left. everything is arranged. mr. burr has taken charge, and he will conduct the business until this thing is settled. we are lucky to have such a man in our employ." "yes, yes; burr is an honest fellow. but what do you intend to do now?" "still excited, i see," smiled mori. he shook a warning finger at the lad, and added, seriously: "remember what i told you. if you continue in this fashion i will call a doctor and have you taken to the hospital." "i can't help it," replied nattie, piteously. "i just can't keep still while grant is in danger. you don't know how anxious i am. let me do something to keep my mind occupied." "if you promise to go to bed for the rest of the night i will give you ten minutes now to discuss our plans. do you agree?" "yes; but you intend to remain here until morning?" "no, i cannot spare the time. i must have the detectives searching for clews before daylight." "mori, you are a friend indeed. some day i will show you how much i appreciate your kindness." "nonsense! you would do as much if not more if the case was reversed. now for the plans. to commence, we are absolutely certain of one thing: patrick cronin was in the scheme, and he was sent to get us out of the way while ralph and willis round attended to grant." "i am glad the irishman met with his just deserts," exclaimed nattie, vindictively. "he is now food for fishes." "yes; a fitting fate. the accident cannot be considered an unmixed catastrophe. if it had not occurred we would have gone on to nagasaki, and have lost much valuable time. as it is, we are comparatively early. what we need now is a clew, and for that i intend to begin a search at once." "would it do any good to notify the american consul?" "no; our best plan is to keep the affair as quiet as possible. we will say nothing about it. if grant is missed we can intimate that he has gone away for a week. "now go to bed and sleep if you can," he added, preparing to leave. "i will call shortly after breakfast and report progress." with a friendly nod of his head he departed on his quest for detectives. nattie remained seated for a brief period, then he walked over to a bell-pull, and summoned a servant. at his command the man brought him a heavy cloak, and assisted him to don his shoes. from a chest of drawers in an adjacent room the lad took a revolver. after carefully examining the charges he thrust it into his pocket and left the house. the night was hot and sultry. not a breath of wind stirred, and the mellow rays of a full moon beamed down on ground and foliage, which seemed to glow with the tropical heat. notwithstanding the discomfort nattie drew his cloak about him and set out at a rapid walk down the street leading past the manning residence. from out on the bay came the distant rattle of a steamer's winch. the stillness was so oppressive that even the shrill notes of a boatswain's whistle came to his ears. an owl hooted in a nearby maple; the melancholy howl of a strolling dog sounded from below where the native town was stretched out in irregular rows of bamboo houses. the lad kept to the shady side of the road, and continued without stopping until he reached a mansion built in the english style, some ten or eleven blocks from his house. the building stood in the center of extensive grounds, and was separated from the street by an ornamental iron fence and a well-cultivated hedge. it was evidently the home of a man of wealth. in fact, it was the domicile of mr. black and his son ralph. what was nattie's object in leaving the manning residence in face of mori's warning? what was his object in paying a visit to his enemy at such an hour of the night? anxious, almost beside himself with worry, suffering severely from his dislocated shoulder, and perhaps slightly under the influence of a fever, the lad had yielded to his first impulse when alone, and set out from home with no settled purpose. on reaching the open air he thought of jesse black. the mansion was only a short distance away; perhaps something could be learned by watching it. the conjecture was father to the deed. selecting a spot shaded by a thick-foliaged tree, nattie carefully scanned the _façade_ of the building. it was of two stories, and prominent bow-windows jutted out from each floor. the lower part was dark, but a dim light shone through the curtains of the last window on the right. a bell down in the bund struck twice; it was two o'clock. at the sound a dark figure appeared at the window and thrust the shade aside. the distance was not too great for nattie to distinguish the man as the english merchant. drawing himself up the lad shook his fist at the apparition. the action brought his head above the hedge. something moving on the other side caught his eye, and he dodged back just as a man arose to his feet within easy touch. breathless with amazement, nattie crouched down, and parting the roots of the hedge, peered through. the fellow was cautiously moving toward the house. something in his walk seemed familiar. presently he reached a spot where the moon's bright rays fell upon him. a stifled cry of profound astonishment, not unmingled with terror, came from the lad's lips, and he shrank back as if with the intention of fleeing. he thought better of it, however, and watched with eager eyes. a dozen times the man in the grounds halted and crouched to the earth, but finally he reached the front entrance of the mansion. a door was opened, and a hand was thrust forth with beckoning fingers. the fellow hastily stepped inside and vanished from view, leaving nattie a-quiver with excitement. the dislocated shoulder, the pain, the fever, all were forgotten in the importance of the discovery. "that settles it," he muttered. "i am on the right track as sure as the moon is shining. now i must enter that house by hook or crook. but who would believe that miracles could happen in this century? if that fellow wasn't----" he abruptly ceased speaking. the door in the front entrance suddenly opened, and a huge dog was thrust down the stone steps. nattie knew the animal well. it was a ferocious brute ralph had imported from england that year. as a watchdog it bore a well-merited reputation among the natives of thieving propensities. it was dreaded because it thought more of a direct application of sharp teeth than any amount of barking. its unexpected appearance on the scene altered matters considerably. "dog or no dog, i intend to find my way into that house before many minutes," decided the lad. "it is an opportunity i cannot permit to pass." he drew out his revolver, but shook his head and restored it again to his pocket. a shot would alarm the neighborhood and bring a squad of police upon the scene. the brute must be silenced in some other manner. naturally apt and resourceful, it was not long before nattie thought of a plan. cautiously edging away from the hedge until he had reached a safe distance, he set out at a run toward home. fortunately, the street was free from police or pedestrians, and he finally gained the manning residence without being observed. slipping into the garden he whistled softly. a big-jointed, lanky pup slouched up to him and fawned about his feet. picking up the dog, he started back with it under his right arm. the return to the english merchant's house was made without mishap. reaching the hedge, nattie lightly tossed the pup over into the yard. it struck the ground with a yelp, and a second later a dark shadow streaked across the lawn from the mansion. as the lad had anticipated, the dog he had brought did not wait to be attacked, but started along the inner side of the hedge with fear-given speed. in less than a moment pursuer and pursued disappeared behind an outlying stable. chuckling at the success of his scheme, nattie softly climbed the fence and leaped into the yard. the lawn was bright with the rays of the moon, but he walked across it without hesitation, finally reaching the house near the left-hand corner. as he expected, he found a side door unguarded save by a wire screen. a swift slash with a strong pocket-knife gave an aperture through which the lad forced his hand. to unfasten the latch was the work of a second, and a brief space later he stood in a narrow hall leading to the main corridor. chapter xxi. a prisoner. on reaching the main stairway he heard voices overhead. the sound seemed to come from a room opening into the hall above. quickly removing his shoes, the lad tied the strings together, and throwing them about his neck, he ascended to the upper floor. fortunately, nattie had visited the black mansion in his earlier days when he and ralph were on terms of comparative intimacy. he knew the general plan of the house, and the knowledge stood him in good stead now. the room from which the sound of voices came was a study used by the english merchant himself. next to it was a spare apartment filled with odd pieces of furniture and what-not. in former days it was a guest chamber, and the lad had occupied it one night while on a visit to the merchant's son. he remembered that a door, surmounted by a glass transom, led from the study to the spare room, and that it would be an easy matter to see into the former by that means. he tried the knob, and found that it turned at his touch. a slight rattle underneath proclaimed that a bunch of keys was swinging from the lock. closing the door behind him, he tiptoed across the apartment, carefully avoiding the various articles of furniture. to his great disappointment, he found that heavy folds of cloth had been stretched across the transom, completely obstructing the view. to make it worse, the voices were so faint that it was impossible for him to distinguish more than an occasional word. "confound it! i have my labor for my pains!" he muttered. "it's a risky thing, but i'll have to try the other door." he had barely reached the hall when the talking in the next room became louder, then he heard a rattling of the knob. the occupants were on the point of leaving the study. to dart into the spare room was nattie's first action. dropping behind a large dressing-case, he listened intently. "well, i am thoroughly satisfied with your part of the affair so far," came to his eager ears in the english merchant's well-known voice. "it was well planned in every respect. you had a narrow escape though." a deep chuckle came from the speaker's companion. "no suspicion attaches to me," continued mr. black. "i met the boys last night, but i don't think they saw me." "oh, didn't we?" murmured nattie. "you can go now. give this letter of instructions to my son, and tell him to make all haste to the place mentioned. return here with his answer as quickly as you can. in this purse you will find ample funds to meet all legitimate expenses. legitimate expenses, you understand? if you fall by the wayside in the manner i mentioned before you will not get a _sen_ of the amount i promised you. now--confound those rascally servants of mine! they have left this room unlocked! i must discharge the whole lot of them and get others." click! went the key in the door behind which nattie crouched. he was a prisoner! the sound of footsteps came faintly to him; he heard the front entrance open; then it closed again, and all was silent in the house. after waiting a reasonable time he tried the knob, but it resisted his efforts. placing his right shoulder against the wood he attempted to force the panel, but without avail. "whew! this is being caught in a trap certainly! a pretty fix i am in now. and it is just the time to track that scoundrel. mr. black must have been talking about poor grant." rendered almost frantic by his position, nattie threw himself against the door with all his power. the only result was a deadly pain in the injured shoulder. almost ready to cry with chagrin and anguish, he sat down upon a chair and gave himself up to bitter reflections. minutes passed, a clock in the study struck three; but still he sat there a prey to conflicting emotions. he now saw that he had acted foolishly. what had he learned? they had suspected the blacks before, and confirmation was not needed. the discovery of the visitor's identity was something, but its importance was more than counterbalanced by the disaster which had befallen nattie. the recent conversation in the hall indicated that the merchant's companion would leave at once for a rendezvous to meet ralph, and possibly grant. "and here i am, fastened in like a disobedient child," groaned the lad. "i must escape before daylight. if i am caught in here mr. black can have me arrested on a charge of attempted burglary. it would be just nuts to him." the fear of delay, engendered by this new apprehension, spurred him to renewed activity. he again examined the door, but speedily gave up the attempt. either a locksmith's tools or a heavy battering-ram would be necessary to force it. creeping to the one window opening from the apartment, nattie found that he could raise it without much trouble. the generous rays of the moon afforded ample light. by its aid he saw that a dense mass of creeping vines almost covered that side of the mansion. "by george! a chance at last!" cautiously crawling through the opening he clutched a thick stem and tried to swing downward with his right hand. as he made the effort a pain shot through his injured shoulder so intense that he almost fainted. he repressed a cry with difficulty. weak and trembling, he managed to regain the window sill. once in the room he sank down upon the floor and battled with the greatest anguish it had ever been his lot to feel. to add to his suffering, came the conviction that he would be unable to escape. he remembered the telltale slit he had made in the screen door. when daylight arrived it would be discovered by the servants, and a search instituted throughout the house. "well, it can't be helped," mused the lad. "if i am caught, i'm caught, and that's all there is about it." it is a difficult thing to philosophize when suffering with an intense physical pain and in the throes of a growing fever. it was not long before nattie fell into a stupor. he finally became conscious of an increasing light in the room, and roused himself enough to glance from the window. far in the distance loomed the mighty volcano of fuji san, appearing under the marvelous touch of the morning sun like an inverted cone of many jewels. a hum of voices sounded in the lower part of the house, but no one came to disturb him. rendered drowsy by fever, he fell into a deep slumber, and when he awoke it was to hear the study clock strike nine. he had slept fully five hours. considerably refreshed, nattie started up to again search for a way to effect his escape. the pain had left his shoulder, but he felt an overpowering thirst. his mind was clear, however, and that was half the battle. "if i had more strength in my left arm i would try those vines once more," he said to himself. "things can't last this way forever. i must--what's that?" footsteps sounded in the hall outside. they drew nearer, and at last stopped in front of the spare-room door. a hand was laid upon the knob, and keys rattled. "we have searched every room but this," came in the smooth tones of the english merchant. "go inside, my man, and see if a burglar is hiding among the furniture. here, take this revolver; and don't fear to use it if necessary." like a hunted animal at bay, the lad glared about him. discovery seemed certain. over in one corner he espied a chest of drawers. it afforded poor concealment, but it was the best at hand. to drag it away from the wall was the work of a second. when the door was finally opened, nattie was crouched behind the piece of furniture. he heard the soft steps of a pair of sandals; he heard chairs and various articles moved about, then the searcher approached his corner. desperate and ready to fight for his liberty, he glanced up--and uttered a half-stifled cry of amazement and joy! chapter xxii. the pursuit. it is always the unexpected that happens. when nattie glanced up from his place of refuge behind the chest of drawers, he saw a young man clad as a native servant looking down at him. there was the gayly colored cloth tied around the head; the _kimono_, or outer garment cut away at the neck, and the plain silk kerchief tied with a bow under the ear. but the face was not that of a native _waallo_, or houseman; it was mori okuma himself, the very last person on earth nattie expected to find in the spare room of the black mansion. the young japanese started back in profound surprise, his eyes widened, and he nearly called out; but a warning motion from the concealed lad--who recovered his coolness with marvelous rapidity--checked him. "it is i; nattie!" came to his ears. "take old black away and return as soon as possible. i have a clew; we must leave here immediately." regaining his composure with an effort, mori continued his search among the other articles of furniture. "no one here, excellency," he said, at last. "then the scoundrel who cut that screen door has decamped," replied mr. black, who had remained near the door with commendable precaution. "go down to the pantry and help the rest count the silver. by the way, what is your name?" "kai jin, excellency." "well, kai, see that you behave yourself and you can remain in my service. but if you are lazy or thievish, out you go." his voice died away in muffled grumbling down the hall. finally left to himself, nattie emerged from his hiding place and executed several figures of a jig in the middle of the floor. "wonders will never cease," he muttered, with a chuckle of joy. "fancy finding mori here, and just in the nick of time. he's a great lad. he disguised himself and took service in the house. he would make a good detective." he was still pondering over the queer discovery when a noise at the door indicated that some one was on the point of entering. a warning whisper proclaimed that it was mori. the japanese youth entered quickly and closed the heavy oaken portal behind him. he was shaking with suppressed laughter. running over to nattie, he grasped his hand and wrung it heartily. "i ought to scold you for disobeying my orders, but really this is too funny for anything," he said. "how under the sun did you get in here?" "easy enough; i walked in last night. how did you get in?" "i am a member of his excellency's staff of servants. ha, ha! i almost laughed in his lean old face this morning when he engaged me. but explain yourself, nattie; i am dying to hear your news. you said you had a clew." "hadn't we better get out of this house before we talk?" "plenty of time. mr. black has gone to the office, and the servants are below stairs. when we are ready we can walk out through the front entrance without a word to anybody." thus reassured, nattie told how he had left home the preceding night and the events that followed. when he came to the part relating to the man beyond the hedge, the english merchant's midnight visitor, mori started at him in amazement. "impossible!" he exclaimed. "why, he was killed in the accident near kobe." "not so. i saw the fellow's face almost as clearly as i see yours now. it was patrick cronin, and i'll stake my life on that." "then the scoundrel escaped after all?" "yes; to receive his just dues at the hangman's hands, i suppose. but i haven't told you of my clew. i overheard black and patrick talking out in the hall there. it seems that cronin has a letter which he is to deliver without delay to ralph at some rendezvous. that it relates to grant is certain. by following the irishman we can find my brother." "it will be easy enough," replied mori, his eyes expressing his delight. "the fellow won't try to hide his steps, as it were. he considers the accident a good veil to his existence. nattie, it was a lucky inspiration, your coming here last night." "then i am forgiven for disobeying orders, eh?" smiled the lad. "in this case, yes, but don't do it again. how is your shoulder?" "first-chop, barring a little soreness. it will be all right in a day or two. come, let's leave here before we are discovered." the exit from the building and grounds was made without mishap. the lads hastily returned to the manning residence, where nattie ordered breakfast served at once. on entering the garden, the lanky pup used by him as a decoy to ralph's watchdog came bounding from the rear. he had evidently escaped without feeling the teeth of the larger animal. the meal was dispatched in haste, then 'rikishas were taken to the bund. while nattie waited in the firm's office, mori utilized the central police station in tracing patrick cronin. in less than an hour word came that a man answering his description had been seen leaving the city on horseback by way of the road leading to tokio. "that settles it!" exclaimed the japanese youth. "we must take the train for the capital at once. that is," he added, anxiously, "if you think you are able to travel." "i am fit for anything," promptly replied nattie. "come, we must not lose a moment." on their way to the station they stopped at the telegraph office and wired the chief of police of tokio a full description of patrick. after a consultation, they added: "do not arrest the man, but have your best detective shadow him wherever he may go. all expenses will be met by us." "to capture him now would destroy our only clew," said nattie. "he might confess to save himself, and then, again, he might not. if he should remain silent we would have no means of finding grant's whereabouts." the nineteen miles to japan's populous capital were covered in short order. brief as was the time, the lads were met at the depot by an officer in civilian's clothes, who reported that their man had been seen to take a train at ueno, a small suburb on the outskirts of tokio. "we are doing excellently," chuckled mori. "the fool thinks he is safe and he travels openly. at this rate the chase will be as easy as falling off a log, to use an americanism." "he has five hours' start. we must telegraph ahead to the conductor of his train." "and to every station." "that has been done, sir," spoke up the police official. "the last word received stated that he was still on board when the train passed motomiya." "when can we leave?" the man consulted a time-table patterned after those used in the united states, and announced that an express would depart within twenty minutes. hurrying to a neighboring hotel, the lads ate "tiffin," and returned in time to embark upon the second stage of the chase. when the train steamed into a way station three hours later a railway employee in gorgeous uniform approached them with a telegram. hastily opening the envelope, nattie read, with keen disappointment: "headquarters, tokio. "our detective reports that the man he had been following managed to evade him at yowara, and has completely disappeared. local police are searching the mountains." chapter xxiii. patrick shows his cleverness. nattie and mori exchanged glances of dismay. "confound it! isn't that provoking?" exclaimed the latter. "that stupid detective had to let him slip just when the chase commenced to be interesting." "patrick must have suspected something, and he was sly enough to fool his follower. now what are we going to do?" "get off at yowara and take up the search ourselves; that's all we can do. surely some one must have seen the irishman. the very fact that he is a foreigner should draw attention to him. don't worry, old boy; we'll find him before many hours have elapsed." "i sincerely hope so," replied nattie, gazing abstractedly through the coach window. after a moment of silence he said, suddenly: "perhaps yowara is the rendezvous where he is to meet ralph. do you know anything about the place?" "no, except that it is a small town of seven or eight hundred inhabitants. it is where people leave the railway for the mountain regions of northern japan. in a remote part of the interior are three volcanoes, one of them being bandai-san, which is famous for its eruptions." "bandai-san?" slowly repeated nattie. "isn't it at the base of that volcano where those peculiar mud caves are found?" mori eyed his companion inquiringly. "what are you driving at?" he asked. "just this: it struck me that ralph and willis round would certainly try to find a hiding place for grant where they need not fear pursuit, or inquisitiveness from the natives. i have heard that these caves are avoided through superstitious reasons. now why----" "by the heathen gods, i believe you have guessed their secret!" impulsively exclaimed mori. "it is certainly plausible. a better hiding place could not be found in all japan. the natives will not enter the caves under any consideration. they say they are occupied by the mountain demons, and to prove it, tell of the awful noises to be heard in the vicinity." "which are caused by internal convulsions of the volcano, i suppose?" "no doubt. the mountain is generally on the verge of being shaken by earthquakes, but it is some time since one occurred. it's a grewsome place enough." "we will search it thoroughly just the same," said nattie, grimly. on reaching yowara, they found the recreant detective at the station. he had recently returned from a trip through the surrounding country, but had not discovered any trace of the irishman. he appeared crestfallen and penitent. the boys wasted little time with him. proceeding to the village hotel, or tea house, they sent out messengers for three _jinrikishas_ and in the course of an hour were ready to start into the interior. the spare vehicle was loaded with canned food and other stores, as the railroad town would be the last place where such articles could be purchased. each had brought a brace of good revolvers and plenty of ammunition from yokohama. mori personally selected the _karumayas_, or _'rikisha_ men, from a crowd of applicants. he chose three stalwart coolies to pull the carriages, and three _bettos_, or porters, to assist on mountainous roads. one of the latter was a veritable giant in stature and evidently of great strength. he was called sumo, or wrestler, by his companions, and seemed to possess greater intelligence than the average members of his class. mori eyed him approvingly, and told nattie that he would be of undoubted assistance in case of trouble. before leaving the village, the japanese youth bought a keen-edged sword, similar to those worn by the ancient warriors, or _samurais_, and presented it to sumo, with the added stipulation that he would be retained as a guard at increased pay. the fellow shouted with delight, and speedily showed that he could handle the weapon with some skill. thus equipped, the party left the railroad and set out for a village called inawashiro, fifteen _ris_, or thirty miles distant. in japan the coolie rule is twenty minutes' rest every two hours. their method of traveling is at a "dog trot," or long, swinging pace, which covers the ground with incredible swiftness. mori's skill in selecting the _karumayas_ soon became apparent, the distance to the destination being almost halved at the end of the first stretch. the country through which the boys passed was flat and uninteresting, the narrow road stretching across a broad expanse of paddy fields, dotted with men, women and children knee-deep in the evil-smelling mud. when a halt was called to rest and partake of refreshments, mori accosted a native coolie, a number of whom surrounded the party, and asked if aught had been seen of a fiery-faced, red-whiskered foreigner clad in the heavy clothing of the coast. the man eyed his questioner stupidly, and shook his head. the sight of a couple of copper _sen_, or cents, refreshed his memory. he had noticed a short, squat foreigner (called _to-jin_) in the interior. he was mounted upon a horse and had passed four hours before. "four hours?" echoed mori, addressing nattie. "whew! he has a good start. and on a horse, too. that is the reason we could get no trace of him in the outskirts of yowara. he must have left the train before it stopped and skipped into the brush, where he managed to secure a mount. he is certainly clever." "but not enough to fool us," replied nattie, complacently. "we will be hot on his trail before he reaches the caves." after the customary rest of twenty minutes, the party resumed the road. as they proceeded the general contour of the country changed. the flat, plain-like fields gave way to rolling woodlands and scattered hills. the second hour brought them to the small village of inawashiro. here was found a well-kept tea house, with spotless matted floor, two feet above the ground, a quaint roof, and the attendance of a dozen polite servants. before the party had barely reached their resting place, the entire inhabitants, men, women and children, thronged about to feast their eyes upon a _to-jin_. inquiry developed the fact that patrick had passed through the town not quite two hours before. this was cheering news. they were gaining on him. a brief lunch, and again to the road. nattie and mori examined their revolvers after leaving the village. sumo cut a sapling in twain to prove his prowess. at the end of the fourth mile a crossroad was reached. one, a broad, well-kept thoroughfare, led due north, while the other, apparently merely a path running over a hill in the distance, bore more to the westward. mori called a halt. "which shall we take?" he asked, scratching his head in perplexity. "that is the question," replied nattie, ruefully. "confound it! we are just as apt to take the wrong one as not. if we could run across some person who has seen patrick we would be all right." "here comes a _yamabushi_, excellency," spoke up sumo, pointing his claw-like finger up the path. "it is a priest," exclaimed mori, a moment later. "perhaps he can enlighten us." presently a tall, angular man emerged from the narrower road and slowly approached them. he was clad in a peculiar robe embroidered with mystical figures, and wore his hair in long plaits. in one hand was carried a bamboo staff, with which he tapped the ground as he walked. mori saluted him respectfully. "peace be with you, my children," said the priest, mildly. "may your days be long in good works, and your soul as lofty as fuji san," replied the japanese youth, with equal politeness. "pray tell us, father, have you seen aught of a red-bearded foreigner traveling by horse?" "i passed him two _ris_ back. he was a barbarian, and beat his animal with severity. which is against the teachings of----" the good man's words were lost in the distance. nattie and mori, with their _'rikishas_ and attendants, darted past him and scurried up the path at their utmost speed. it was scurvy repayment for the information, but the news that patrick had been seen within four miles acted as a spur. "don't falter, men," called out mori, urging the _karumayas_. "ten _yen_ extra to each if you tarry not until i give the word. on ahead, sumo; watch for the foreigner. be cautious and return when you sight him." the gigantic _betto_ scurried up the path in advance and disappeared past a clump of bushes. the _jinrikishas_ speeded as fast as their pullers could trot. as the party darted by an overhanging mass of rock a head was thrust forth from behind it. the face of the man was broad and burned by the sun, and under the chin was a tuft of reddish whisker. the eyes were sharp and piercing, and they danced with triumphant glee as they peered after the cavalcade. "oh, ho! oh, ho! so it's ye, me bold nattie? it's a good thing oi thought of taking a quiet look to see if oi was being followed. it's a bit of a trick oi learned in india, and it'll prove to be the death of ye, me boys. oi'll just take another path to the rendezvous, and see if we can't kind of waylay yez." chapter xxiv. grant beards the lion. it is now time to return to grant manning. it is well for the reader to know how the lame youth became the innocent cause of all the trouble. the night of the departure of nattie and mori on their trip to nagasaki found him through with his work at the usual hour. he parted from mr. burr at the door, and taking a _'rikisha_, started for home. while passing through main street near the tea house where nattie had played the memorable game of hide-and-seek with willis round, he caught sight of his friend, the secretary to the war minister. grant was always ready to do business. years spent in the counting-room with his father had taught him the value of personal influence in securing contracts. the expected order for arms and ammunition was too valuable a prize for any chance to be neglected. his acquaintance with the secretary was of long standing. it had commenced at a private school in tokio, which both grant and the japanese had attended in earlier days. the boyish friendship had survived the passing of time--that greatest strain upon youthful ties--and when the native gained his present position in the war office, he remembered the mannings. the greeting was cordial, and an adjournment was made to a private room in the _chaya_ or tea house. there the friends talked at length over matters in general, and grant was given many valuable hints concerning the army contract. it was past eight o'clock when the conference ended. with mutual _sayonaras_, or parting salutations, they separated at the door, and grant entered his waiting _jinrikisha_. before the man could start the vehicle a japanese boy ran up, and with much bobbing of his quaint little head, begged the favor of a word with the excellency. "what is it, my lad?" asked the lame youth, kindly. between sobs and ready tears the boy explained that he was the son of one go-daigo, a former porter in the warehouse under the _régime_ of the elder manning. he was now ill of a fever, penniless, and in dire misfortune. would the excellency condescend to visit him at his house in a street hard by the shinto temple? "i am very sorry to hear of go's misfortune," replied grant, with characteristic sympathy, "but wouldn't it answer the purpose if you take this money," producing several _yen_, "and purchase food for him? to-morrow you can call at the office and i'll see what i can do for him." the excellency's kindness was of the quality called "first-chop," but the bedridden go-daigo was also suffering from remorse. he feared that he would die, and he did not care to leave the world with a sin-burdened soul. he knew a secret of value to the new firm. would the excellency call at once? "a secret concerning the new firm?" echoed grant, his thoughts instantly reverting to the englishman and his son. "it may be something of importance. lead the way, child; i will follow." ten minutes' travel through crooked streets brought the _'rikisha_ to a typical native house a hundred yards from a large, red-tiled temple. the youthful guide led the way to the door and opened it; then he vanished through an alley between the buildings. grant passed on in, finding himself in an apartment unfurnished save by a matting and several cheap rugs. a dim light burning in one corner showed that the room was unoccupied. an opening screened by a gaudy bead curtain pierced the farther partition. clapping his hands to give notice of his arrival, the lame youth awaited the appearance of some one connected with the house. hearing a slight noise behind him, he turned in that direction. a couple of stalwart natives advanced toward him from the outer door. before grant could ask a question, one of them sprang upon him, and with a vicious blow of a club, felled him to the floor. the assault was so rapid and withal so entirely unexpected that the unfortunate victim had no time to cry out, or offer resistance. as he lay upon the matting, apparently lifeless, a youth stepped into the room through the bead curtain. he bent over the prostrate form, and after a brief examination, said, in japanese: "you know how to strike, raiko. you have put him to sleep as easily as a cradle does a drowsy child. he won't recover his senses for an hour at least. bring the cart and take him down to the landing. first, change his clothes; you may be stopped by a policeman." the coolie addressed, a stalwart native, with an evil, scarred face, produced a number of garments from a chest, while his companion stripped grant of his handsome business suit. a few moments later he was roughly clad in coarse shoes, tarry trousers, and an english jumper. a neckkerchief and a woolen cap completed the transformation. as thus attired the lame youth resembled nothing more than an english or american deep-water sailor. to add to the disguise, the coolie addressed as raiko, rubbed grime upon the delicate white hands and face. then a two-wheeled cart was brought to the door, and the pseudo mariner dumped in and trundled down toward the docks. the youth, he who had given the orders, and who was, as the reader has probably guessed, no other than ralph black, left the house by another entrance, well pleased at the success of his stratagem. raiko and his cart were stopped by an inquisitive gendarme, but the coolie had been primed with a ready excuse. "plenty _sake_; foreign devil," he said, sententiously. "he drunk; take him down to ship for two _yen_." the officer of the peace had seen many such cases in his career, and he sauntered away to reflect on the peculiar habits of the foreigners from beyond the water. on reaching the english _hatoba_, or dock, raiko found ralph awaiting him. the merchant's son was enveloped in a huge cloak, and he carefully avoided the circles of light cast by the electric globes. at his command grant was unceremoniously dumped into a rowboat moored alongside the pier, then he followed with the stalwart coolie. lying out in the bay was a coasting junk, with sails spread ready for departure. pulling alongside of this, poor grant was lifted on board, and ten minutes later the japanese vessel was sailing down the bay of tokio bound out. as the ungainly craft passed cape king, and slouched clumsily into the tossing waters of the ocean, the lame youth groaned, raised his hands to his aching head, and sat up. he glanced about him at the unfamiliar scene, then struggled to his feet. the swaying deck caused him to reel and then stagger to the low bulwark. he thought he was dreaming. he looked at the white-capped waves shimmering unsteadily under the moon's rays; the quaint, ribbed sails looming above; the narrow stretch of deck ending in the high bow and stern, and at the half-clad sailors watching him from the shadows. he glanced down at his tarred trousers and coarse shoes, then he gave a cry of despair. it was not an ugly nightmare. it was stern reality. his enemies had triumphed; he had been abducted. the proof of valor is the sudden test of a man's courage. the greatest coward can face a peril if it is familiar to him. it is the unexpected emergency--the blow from the dark; the onslaught from the rear--that tries men's souls. the consternation caused by a shifting of scenes such as had occurred to grant can be imagined. from an ordinary room in an ordinary native house in yokohama to the deck of a junk at sea, with all its weirdness of detail to a landsman, is a decided change. the lame youth could be excused if he had sunk to the deck bewildered and in the agonies of terror. but he did nothing of the sort. as soon as he could command the use of his legs, he promptly marched over to a sailor grinning in the shadows of the mainmast, and catching him by the arm, sternly ordered him to bring the captain. "be sharp about it, you dog," he added. "i will see the master of this pirate or know the reason why." awed by his tone, the fellow slunk off and speedily produced the captain of the junk. but with him came ralph black, smoking a cigar, and with an insolent smile upon his sallow face. "ah! grant, dear boy," he said, with a fine show of good fellowship; "i see you have quite recovered from your little accident." "accident, you scoundrel!" exclaimed the lame youth. "what do you mean? i demand an explanation of this outrage. why am i dragged out here like a drunken sailor? you must be crazy to think that you can perpetrate such an injury in this century without being punished." "i'll take the chances," replied ralph, with a sneer. then he added, angrily: "be careful how you call names, and remember once for all that you are in my power, and if i say the word, these sailors will feed you to the sharks. in fact, i really think it would be best, anyway." "i always thought you off color, but i never believed you would prove to be such a cold-blooded villain as you undoubtedly are. you and your worthy father couldn't meet business rivals in the open field of competition, but you needs must resort to violence and underhand methods. i'll have the pleasure of seeing both of you behind the bars before----" with a snarl of rage, the merchant's son sprang upon the daring speaker. grasping him by the throat, he called loudly to the junk's captain: "over with him, yoritomo! help me throw him into the sea. dead men tell no tales!" chapter xxv. a plan, and its failure. the lower order of criminals are seldom courageous. personal bravery is not found in the same soul that harbors a disregard for laws human and divine. the thief cornered in the dark will fight, but simply with the desperation of a rat at bay. it was to this natural law that grant owed his life. yoritomo, the captain of the junk, was a scoundrel at heart, but he had a wholesome regard for justice as meted out in japan. a number of years spent on the penal farms had taught him discrimination. while there he had witnessed--and even assisted at--several executions for murder, and the terror of the scene remained with him. a golden bribe offered by the blacks had purchased his services in the abduction of grant, but when ralph, in his insane rage, called to him for assistance in throwing the lame youth into the sea, he peremptorily refused. instead, he called several sailors to his aid, and rescued grant from ralph's grasp. "i'll permit of no murder on my junk," he said in japanese. "you have paid me well to help you carry this fellow to the bay of sendai, and i will do it, but no violence, sir." "what do you mean, dog?" shouted the discomfited youth. "how dare you interfere? if i wish to get rid of him i'll do so." "not on board this vessel," replied the captain, doggedly. "i suppose you are afraid of your neck?" sneered ralph. "yes, i am. i run enough danger as it is. how do we know that we were not seen in yokohama? my craft is engaged in trade along the coast, and is well known. when your prisoner's absence is found out the authorities will secure a list of all shipping leaving the port on such a date. i will be suspected with the rest." ralph remained silent. a craven at heart, he would not have dared attack one physically able to offer resistance. the picture drawn by the captain was not pleasant. what if the truth should be discovered? it would mean disgrace and a long term in prison. and he had just contemplated a murder! the punishment for such a crime is death. the youth shuddered at his narrow escape. he scowled at his prisoner, then stalked aft to the mean little cabin under the shadow of the wing-like sails. grant had been a silent spectator of the scene. when ralph made the violent attack on him, he struggled as best he could, but he was no match for his athletic assailant, and would have undoubtedly succumbed if it had not been for the timely aid of the captain. the latter's unexpected action sent a ray of hope through the lame youth. possibly he could be bribed to further assist him! grant was philosopher enough to know that honor does not exist among thieves. the bonds of fraternity found among honest men is unknown in the criminal walks of life. when ralph left the deck grant drew yoritomo aside, and boldly proposed a plan evolved at that moment by his fertile brain. he did not mince words, but went to the point at once. "captain, a word with you," he said. "i wish to tell you that you are making a bad mistake in being a party to this abduction. you probably know the laws of your country, but you do not know that such crimes against foreigners are punishable by death in many cases." yoritomo shifted uneasily, but made no reply. "do you know who i am?" continued grant, impressively. the captain shook his head. "indeed! you must belong to one of the lower provinces, then. have you ever heard of the firm of manning & company, dealers and importing merchants?" "yes." "well, my name is grant manning, and i am now head of the firm. i am also a personal friend of his excellency, yoshisada udono, of the war department, and of the superintendent of prisons in tokio. ah, i see that you know what the latter means. you have been a prisoner in your time, eh?" "yes, excellency." the words were respectful, and the lame youth took hope. he followed up his advantage. "the young man who bribed you to assist in his nefarious plot is crazy. no sane man would attempt such a desperate scheme nowadays. you are sure to be discovered before many days. the detectives are even now after you. i have relatives and friends who will move heaven and earth to rescue me, or to secure revenge if aught happens to me. discovery means death to you. you are even now standing in the shadow of the gallows." grant had lowered his voice to an impressive whisper. the tone, the surroundings, the situation had their effect upon the listener. he trembled from head to foot. he fell upon his knees at his companion's feet and begged for mercy. "oh, excellency," he pleaded, "i crave your pardon. i acknowledge that i am guilty. mr. black offered me a large sum to help in your abduction. i need the money, for i am very poor. i accepted, and now i lose my life." "not necessarily so," replied the lame youth, repressing a feeling of exultation with difficulty. "if you will do as i say i will assure you of a pardon, and promise you money in addition. what did the blacks agree to pay you?" "two hundred _yen_, excellency." "and for that paltry sum, not equal to one hundred american dollars, you have run such risks. you are a fool!" "yes, excellency." "now, i'll promise to see that you are not punished, and i will also give you twice that amount if you head in to the nearest port and put me ashore. what do you say?" yoritomo hesitated. "remember your fate when the authorities capture you, which they surely will before long. don't be a dolt, man. i will pay you double what the blacks promise, and assure you of a pardon besides." "can you pay me the money now?" asked the captain, cunningly. he had evidently recovered from his fears--enough, anyway, to drive a shrewd bargain. "part of it, and give you good security for the balance," replied grant, confidently. he reached in the pocket where he generally kept his purse, but found it empty. a hurried search disclosed the fact that his valuable gold watch and a small diamond stud were also gone. he had been robbed. "the confounded thieves!" he exclaimed. "they have completely stripped me." "then you have no money?" asked yoritomo, incredulously. "no; i have been robbed by those people. i will give you my word that i'll pay you the four hundred _yen_ the moment i set foot in yokohama. or, if you wish, i'll write a note for the amount, and you can collect it at any time." "have you anything to prove that you are grant manning?" queried the captain, suspiciously. grant bit his lips in annoyance. the question boded ill for his chances of escape. the hurried search through his pockets had shown him that he had nothing left; not even a letter or a scrap of paper. he was compelled to answer in the negative. "i thought so," cried yoritomo, scornfully. "you have tried to play a pretty game, my brave youth, but it didn't work. you grant manning? ha! ha! ha! mr. black told me who you are. you are a rival in love, and he is taking this means of getting rid of you. so you would try to wheedle me with lies? i have a mind to let him throw you overboard as he intended. begone forward, or i'll tell my men to scourge you!" "you are making a serious mistake," replied grant, with dignity. "you will live to repent your actions. i am----" "begone, i say!" interrupted the captain, menacingly. "here, tomo, haki, drive this fool forward!" sick at heart and almost discouraged, the lame youth limped toward the bow. as he passed the mainmast a coolie slipped from behind it and entered the cabin. it was raiko, ralph's man. he had overheard the futile attempt, and proceeded forthwith to tell his master. chapter xxvi. grant attempts to escape. during the rest of the voyage up the coast grant was kept forward with the sailors. ralph carefully avoided him, and, in fact, seldom appeared on deck. shortly before midnight on the second day out the prisoner was awakened from a troubled sleep by the entrance of several men in his little apartment forward. one of these was raiko. without a word of explanation, the coolie seized grant and with the aid of his companions, bound him hand and foot. an hour later the junk was brought to anchor and the sails furled. then a boat was lowered, and grant, ralph, and raiko were rowed ashore by members of the crew. as they left the craft, yoritomo leaned over the clumsy rail, and called out, sneeringly: "how about that four hundred _yen_ and the free pardon? your little plan didn't work, eh? farewell, excellency, grant manning!" the prisoner maintained a dignified silence, but at heart he felt sore and discouraged. while on the junk he considered himself almost safe from violence, but ralph's cowardly assault and the grim, evil face of the coolie. raiko, boded little good. the night was clear, and a full moon cast its mellow rays over the scene. the junk had anchored in an extensively landlocked bay. across to the right were several twinkling lights, proclaiming the presence of a town. but where the boat had landed were simply clumps of bushes and sandy dunes. the little party set out at once for the interior. grant's feet had been loosened, but his hands still remained fastened. raiko walked in advance, and it soon became evident that he was familiar with the country. at the end of the first hour a halt was made in a grove of trees near a hill. the coolie disappeared, leaving the prisoner in ralph's care. after he had gone grant attempted to engage the merchant's son in conversation, but without avail. he absolutely refused to speak. presently raiko returned with three horses and another native. the lame youth was lifted upon one and secured in such a manner that he could not escape; then the others were mounted by the remaining members of the party and the march resumed. raiko went first, as usual, then ralph, leading the prisoner's steed, and finally the new coolie bringing up the rear. it was a strange procession, but there were none to witness it, the narrow paths followed being entirely deserted. several hours passed in this manner. the moon sank behind the western mountains, leaving the scene in darkness. mile after mile was covered without a halt. the aspect of the country changed from hill to plain, from valley to heights. rivers were forded, bridges crossed, and lakes skirted, and still no word between the members of the cavalcade. during all this time grant had not remained idle. he was not a youth prone to despair. the result of his conversation with the junk's captain had certainly discouraged him for the moment, but with the vivacity of youth he speedily recovered his spirits and set about for a way to better his situation. in the first place, he found that the jolting of his mount, which he had railed against at the commencement, had actually loosened his bonds. his arms had been tied behind him with a leather thong around the wrists and elbows. the discovery sent a thrill of hope through him. working steadily, but without making the slightest sound, he finally succeeded in freeing both hands. the operation took some time, and it was not until after the moon had disappeared that he completed the task. meanwhile, his mind had also moved rapidly. he formulated a plan. it was nothing less than to wait for a favorable opportunity, and to make a bold dash for freedom. burdened as he was, with a deformed and feeble frame, grant was no coward, nor was he lacking in valor of spirit. he knew that the attempt would be productive of danger. it would draw the fire of his companions, and, moreover, lead to terrible risks to life and limb, but he was perfectly willing to brave all if by so doing he could effect his escape. during the weary hours spent on board the junk he had thought over his abduction and the events leading to it. the actions of the blacks were almost inexplicable. it had never occurred to him that they would resort to such desperate measures. he had read of such cases in books of romance treating of life in the earlier centuries, but to believe that an english merchant in japan should carry off a business rival in the present day was almost beyond his credulity. "it is the last move of a man driven to the wall," he had concluded, and not without a feeling of triumph, it must be confessed. "we have taken the market from him, and simply because the market chose to come to us, and we have beaten his firm and others in both the export and import trades. and as a final straw, it seemed as if the valuable army contracts would also come to us. fool! he should have known that nattie and mori could easily secure them even if i had dropped out of sight." this was not so, and only his innate sense of modesty compelled him to say it. nattie and mori, the blacks, and all the foreign population of japan knew that only grant could win the prize. his business tact, his personal friendship with the powers at the head of the government, and his well-known reputation for honesty were the virtues forming the magnet that would attract the golden plum. the outrageous assault of ralph on board the junk had shown grant how desperate his enemies were. it hinted strongly at nothing short of murder. no man, no matter how brave, can walk in the shadow of a threatened death without inwardly wishing himself free from danger. grant was as others in the same situation. he was willing to face any known peril to escape the unknown fate awaiting him at the end of the journey. then he had a natural desire to turn the tables on his enemies; to cause their defeat and punishment, and not least of all, to reach tokio in time to secured the coveted army contracts. as the night became darker the little party hovered together. as stated before, ralph was leading grant's horse, and forming the rear of the cavalcade was the new coolie. raiko was almost out of sound ahead. the lame youth felt in his pockets, and to his great joy found a penknife which had been overlooked by the greedy coolie. waiting until they rode into a narrow valley running between high hills, the prisoner softly reached forward and severed the leading thong. then, with a fierce tug of his hands, he caused his mount to wheel sharply. this sudden action brought the horse ridden by grant in collision with that of the hindmost coolie. the shock unseated the fellow, who was naturally unprepared, and he fell to the ground with a cry of terror. belaboring his steed with one hand, the prisoner dashed down the valley like a whirlwind. he had not gone fifty yards before he heard a prodigious clatter of hoofs, then with a loud report a revolver was discharged behind him. the bullet flew wide of the mark, as could be expected under the circumstances, but it served its purpose just the same. at the sound grant's horse dashed sideways, stumbled over a hummock of earth or rock, and with a crash, animal and rider fell in a heap against the edge of rising ground. fortunately, the lame youth escaped injury, but the terrific fall partially stunned him, and he was unable to resist when, a moment later, ralph rode up and seized him. raiko followed close behind, and the other coolie limped up in time to assist in rebinding the prisoner. after seeing him again seated upon the horse, ralph launched forth in a tirade of abuse, which he emphasized by brutally striking the prisoner with his whip. "thought you would give us the slip, eh?" he cried. "you crippled puppy. i've a good notion to beat you to death! we're having too much trouble with you, anyway, and i think i will end it right here." "you will receive full measure for this outrage some day, you coward," retorted grant, whose discomfiture had made him careless of consequences. "none but a brute would act as you are doing. no, i'll not stop talking. i don't care a snap of my little finger for your threats. do what you please, but remember there will be a day of retribution." the english youth evidently thought so, too, as he desisted, and mounting, rode ahead with the leading strap attached to his saddle. this time extra precautions were taken. grant's legs were fastened by a thong running under his horse, and his arms were securely bound. the journey was continued without halt or incident until a gradual lighting of the eastern sky proclaimed the advent of dawn. the first rays of the sun found the cavalcade upon the summit of a verdure-crowned hill. down below, nestling in the center of an extensive valley, was the shimmering waters of a large lake, and, looming massively on the farther shore, could be seen the ruins of an ancient feudal castle. "thank goodness! the rendezvous at last!" exclaimed ralph. "now, to see if patrick is here before us." chapter xxvii. in front of the old castle. in the meantime how had nattie and his party fared in their pursuit of the wily irishman? it will be remembered that sumo had gone ahead as a scout, leaving the others to follow more at leisure. this was found necessary by the increasing difficulty of drawing the _jinrikishas_ along the primitive path. it had narrowed in places to such an extent that only by the most careful efforts could the vehicles be taken past. the road became obstructed with huge bowlders, fallen from the surrounding heights, and finally the trunk of a large tree, shattered by lightning, was encountered. "we will have to leave the _'rikishas_ in charge of one of the men," answered nattie, regretfully. "it will handicap us considerably," replied mori, in the same tone. "we cannot expect to catch up with patrick, mounted as he is. from the speed he has been making, though, his animal must be tired out. i think--what is up now?" the question was called forth by a peculiar action on nattie's part. the lad had been standing intently eying the fallen monarch of the forest. suddenly he tossed his helmet into the air with a cry of joy. "what fools we are!" he added. "why, this tree has been here at least a month." "well, what of it?" "mori, i am ashamed of you. can't you see that a horse couldn't pass here? look at those limbs and that mass of foliage. if patrick is ahead of us he must have abandoned his horse. where is the animal?" "by jove! you are right. the irishman must have doubled on us after meeting that priest. idiots that we are to permit a man like that to pull the wool over our eyes. we must go back and take the other road." before nattie could reply, sumo scrambled over the tree and advanced toward them. "masters, the red-bearded foreigner has deceived us. i met a man half a _ris_ up the path. he has been working there since daylight, and he says no one has passed him except the priest." "that settles it," exclaimed mori. "come; we must return to the crossroad." "i have also learned that this path and the main road meet about five _ris_ beyond this hill," continued sumo. the coolie's information was indeed welcome, and little time was lost in retracing their steps. on reaching the crossroad, however, darkness, which had been threatening for some time, settled down. the coming of night presented a serious obstacle to the continuation of the pursuit. "i am afraid we must put up somewhere until morning," said mori, as the party halted. nattie instantly expostulated. "we will never be able to trace patrick," he insisted. "no, we must keep on, darkness or no darkness." "and run the risk of passing him during the night, eh? if he is cunning enough to fool us once, he'll certainly try it again. no, our best plan is to proceed to invoro, a small village, a couple of miles from here, and rest until daylight. then we can resume the pursuit with some chance of tracking the irishman. anyway, we are reasonably certain his destination is the caves at the foot of bandai-san." nattie was forced to acknowledge the wisdom of his companion's plan, but it was with a heavy heart that he gave his consent. the trip to the village was made without incident. accommodations were secured at a primitive tea house, and preparations made for spending the night. inquiry elicited the cheering news that a foreigner such as described had passed through the town several hours previous. he had halted to secure food for himself and horse, and had then continued his journey. "we are still on the right track, you see," said mori, to nattie. "don't worry, old boy. this road leads to the volcano, and all we need do is to set out at daybreak and go straight to the caves. i am so sure that we will find grant there that i have dispatched a messenger to the governor of this district asking for the assistance of the rural police." "i don't place much faith in them," replied nattie, doubtfully. "i think we had better proceed alone until we are thoroughly sure ralph black and grant are at the caves. then we can send for reinforcements. a large body of police would only give the alarm, and probably drive them somewhere else in search of a hiding place." "all right; i will leave word to hold the gendarmes here until we call for them. now try to get a little sleep. you will tire yourself out and retard the recovery of that shoulder." the lad protested that he could not close his eyes, but nature demanded her meed of rest, and he slumbered soundly until the party was called at the first signs of day. after a brief breakfast the chase was resumed, all feeling remarkably refreshed by the night's rest. "i feel like a new man," announced mori, quaffing huge draughts of the brisk morning air from his _'rikisha_. "i really believe i am good for a dozen patricks if it comes to a tussle." "which it is bound to do," replied nattie, cheerily. "you can anticipate a fight, old fellow. ralph black and willis round will not give up without a struggle. why, imagine what defeat means to them! they will be compelled to leave the country immediately." "if we permit them to," interposed the japanese youth, meaningly. "yes, you are right. with their scheme ruined, the house of black will tumble like a mansion built of cards. if captured, they will be brought to trial before the english minister and probably sentenced to a long term in prison. they must have been desperate to resort to such a plan." "it's gold--bright, yellow gold, my dear boy," replied his companion, sagely. "it is only another case of man selling his liberty, if not his soul, for the almighty dollar. the hundred thousand _yen_ profit in those army contracts proved too much for the englishman. and i guess personal revenge has something to do with it." "no doubt. still it is hard to believe that a sane man would take such chances. i wonder what they expected to do after the awarding of the contracts? they surely could not hope to keep grant a prisoner for many months?" "i have thought it over, and i believe mr. black expected to clear out after furnishing the arms and ammunition, if he secured the prize. he felt that his business had dwindled after the organization of our firm, and that he might as well retire with the money realized if he could. he did not anticipate that we would discover his plot and pursue his son." "well, i am glad to say that he is mightily mistaken." the invigorating air of the early morning hours caused the _jinrikisha_ men to race along the road at their utmost speed, and it was not long before the party arrived at the spot where the path taken the night before rejoined the main thoroughfare. a short rest was taken, then, with renewed strength, the pursuit was continued. at the end of an hour a lake was sighted some distance ahead. it was a large body of water, evidently grandly situated in a basin formed by three hills and a lofty mountain. pointing to the latter, which reared its conical head twelve thousand feet above the level of the lake, mori said, impressively: "the volcano of bandai-san." "and at its base are the caves?" eagerly asked nattie. "yes, the mud caves where we hope ralph and mr. round have taken their prisoner." "what is that on the edge of the lake? it seems to be a ruin." "that's the _shiro_, or old castle of yamagata. by jove! i had forgotten that it was here. it is a feudal pile, and has a quaint history. i will tell you something of it as we ride along. the road passes the entrance." bidding the _karumayas_ run together, mori continued: "it was a stronghold of an ancient _daimio_, or prince. he ruled the country around here for many years. he was very wealthy, and spent an immense sum of money on the castle. you can see by its extent and the material that it cost no small amount. the walls are of stone, some of the blocks being forty feet long by ten feet in width, and many have a thickness of an english yard. "those two lofty towers were once surmounted with huge fish made of copper, and covered with plates of gold. you can imagine the temptation to the peasants. one windy night a robber mounted an immense kite and tried to fly to the top of the first tower for the purpose of stealing the golden scales, but he was caught and boiled alive in oil." "they had an extremely pleasant manner of executing people in japan in the early days," remarked nattie, with a shrug of his shoulders. "yes, but during the same period, my boy, the english broke their criminals on a wheel, and quartered them. it was six of one and half a dozen of the other." by this time the party had neared the ruined entrance to the castle. nattie's curiosity had been aroused by mori's tale, and he leaned forward to tell his _jinrikisha_ man to stop, when there came a clattering of hoofs from the interior of the castle, and a cavalcade rode out upon the broken drawbridge. hoarse cries of mutual surprise rang out, then both parties came to a sudden halt facing each other. a wild shout of joy came from nattie: "grant! grant! i have found you at last!" chapter xxviii. sumo's army. for a better understanding of what follows it will be well to explain the situation of the castle of yamagata, and its general construction. it was located on the southern edge of lake inawashiro, and covered a large extent of ground. the main portion of the building was well preserved, consisting of a line of massive stone battlements with a lofty tower at each end. in the interior rose a shattered wall, all that was left of the extensive partitions. there were two entrances, one at the main drawbridge, still in good condition, and another nearer the lake. the latter was choked up with stones and various _débris_. a moat ran around three sides of the pile, connecting with the lake, which touched the fourth wall. the road ran past the front of the castle, and in the vicinity were numerous huts occupied by coolies working in the rice fields. an extensive forest of maple and willows lined a good part of the lake. rising in the distance to the north was the majestic peak of bandai-san. so much for description. when nattie and mori heard the tramping of horses in the interior they were entirely unprepared to see issue from the main entrance a cavalcade composed of ralph black, willis round and patrick cronin, with grant a prisoner in the center. the party was further augmented by raiko and two brother coolies. for an instant the mutual surprise was so great that neither side made a movement. nattie broke the spell by leaping from his _'rikisha_ with the glad cry: "grant! grant! i have found you at last!" the words had scarcely left his lips when ralph black, who was in advance, dashed the spurs into his horse, and whirled around. there was a brief scramble and confusion, then the whole cavalcade rode helter-skelter back into the castle. grant was dragged with them, being still tied hand and foot. an instant later, an ancient portcullis, which had survived the ravages of time, fell into place with a crash, completely blocking the entrance. the sudden retreat of ralph and his party left nattie and mori staring after them as if powerless to move. their inaction did not last long, however. wild with rage they darted across the drawbridge, but only to find the portcullis--an arrangement of timbers joined across one another after the manner of a harrow--barring their way. seizing one part of it, nattie attempted to force himself through, but he was met with a bullet that whizzed past his head in dangerous proximity to that useful member. simultaneous with the report there appeared on the other side ralph and the ex-bookkeeper. both carried revolvers, which they flourished menacingly. deeming discretion the better part of valor, nattie and mori dodged behind a projecting corner of the massive entrance. a taunting laugh came to their ears. "why don't you come in and rescue your brother, you coward?" called out the merchant's son. "what are you afraid of?" the epithet and the insulting tone was too much for nattie's hot young blood, and he was on the point of rushing forth from his shelter, regardless of consequences, when he was forcibly detained by mori. "stop! don't be foolish," explained the young japanese. "he is only trying to get a shot at you." "but i can't stand being called a coward by a cur like that." "we will repay him in good time. we have them cornered, and all we have to do is to see that they don't get away while we send for the authorities. don't ruin everything by your rashness." "why don't you storm the castle like the knights of old?" jeered ralph, just then. "we are waiting for you." "you are a scoundrel and a fool," retorted nattie, grimly, heeding his companion's advice. "we've got you in a trap, and we'll mighty soon turn you and your brother conspirators over to the law." "talk is cheap," replied a voice from within the castle, but there was far less confidence in the tone. the speaker was willis round. presently patrick made himself heard. "why don't yez lift that fine-tooth comb thing and go out and fight them?" he asked, impatiently. "it's meself that can whip the whole lot, although oi shouldn't be the one to tell it. sally forth, oi say, and sweep the spalpanes intid the lake." it is unnecessary to say that his belligerent proposal was not adopted by his more discreet companions. there was a murmur of voices, as if the three were holding a consultation, then all became quiet. in the meantime, nattie and mori looked about them. back in the road were the _karumayas_, still standing near their _jinrikishas_. one of the porters was with them, but sumo had disappeared. the absence of the giant native struck the boys as peculiar, and they wondered whether he had fled at the first shot. through the forest on the right they saw the outlines of several huts, and running toward the castle were three or four natives, evidently attracted by the revolver report. turning their attention to themselves nattie and mori found that they were in a peculiar situation. where they had taken refuge was a spot behind the projecting stone frame of the main entrance. there the drawbridge extended out a few feet, barely permitting room for two. there was no way of retreating from it save across the bridge in plain view of those in the castle. "whew! we are nicely situated," remarked mori. "how are we going to reach the road, i wonder?" "i guess we'll have to run for it," replied nattie, doubtfully. "yes, and get potted before we had gone three steps." "wait, i'll peep out and see if they are still on guard." cautiously edging his way toward the center of the bridge, the lad glanced into the interior of the castle. he dodged back with great promptness, and said, with a grimace: "that bloodthirsty irishman is standing near the portcullis with two big revolvers pointed this way." "where are the others?" "i couldn't see them." mori looked grave. "they are up to some trick," he said. "i wonder if there is any way by which they could leave?" "not without they find a boat, or try to swim the lake." "don't be too sure of it. these old _shiros_ sometimes contain secret passages leading from the interior. they could fool us nicely if they should stumble across a tunnel running under the moat." "confound it! we can't remain here like two birds upon a limb," exclaimed nattie, impatiently. "we'll have to make a dash for it. come on; i'll lead." he gathered himself together to dart across the fifteen feet of bridge, but before he could start a loud hail came from the forest to the north of the castle. looking in that direction, they saw sumo advancing with a whole host of natives. there were at least forty in the party, and each appeared to be armed with some sort of weapon. there were ancient guns, long spears, swords, reaping hooks and a number of plain clubs. with this martial array at his heels the giant porter approached the scene, bearing himself like a general at the head of a legion. as he walked, he flourished the sword given him by mori, and kept up a running fire of orders to his impromptu command. at another time it would have been comical in the extreme, but under the circumstances, both nattie and mori hailed his appearance with joy. alas for their hopes! "courage, masters!" shouted sumo. "wait where you are. we will drive the scoundrels from their stronghold. march faster, my braves; get ready to charge." but at that interesting moment the little army arrived opposite the entrance. "bang, bang!" went patrick's revolvers, and in the twinkling of an eye the whole forty natives took to their heels, bestrewing the road with a choice collection of farming implements, ancient swords and clubs. sumo had discretion enough to drop behind a stump, from which place of safety he watched the flight of his forces with feelings too harrowing to mention. chapter xxix. a mysterious disappearance. despite their position, nattie and mori were compelled to laugh. and from within came a hoarse burst of merriment that fairly shook the air. "ha, ha! ho, ho! look at the monkeys, will ye! watch them run at the sound of a shot. worra! patrick cronin, did ye live to see the day when forty men would scoot from the sight of yer face?" the fellow's taunts were cut short in a manner unpleasant to his feelings. while he was dancing about inside, crowing over his victory, mori crept behind his shelter and let drive with his pistol. the bullet cut a hole in patrick's sleeve, and sent him backward in hot haste. seeing their advantage, both nattie and the young japanese darted across the drawbridge, reaching the shelter of the forest without mishap. there they were joined by sumo, who appeared thoroughly discomfited. "i thought they would fight, masters," he explained. "but it seems they would rather work in the paddy fields than face firearms. we are not all like that. if you wish, i will face that red-bearded foreigner myself, and i'll cut his comb for him, too." "that is not necessary, sumo," replied nattie, with a smile. "we know you are brave, but we won't put you to such a test. a man's strength is as nothing before a leaden bullet." "one good thing," said mori, "we are away from that trap on the drawbridge. now we must arrange to capture the scoundrels. sumo, who is a good man to send to the nearest town for police?" the porter recommended one of the _karumayas_, and the fellow was immediately dispatched on a run with a written message to the chief official of the province. this matter attended to, nattie and the young japanese enlisted the services of a part of sumo's former forces and established a line of spies around the land side of the castle. several natives were sent to a small village on the shore of the lake for boats, then the two youthful commanders established themselves within hailing distance of the castle entrance. they could see patrick pacing up and down, still alert. nattie waved his white handkerchief as a flag of truce, and hailed him. "what do yez want?" growled the fellow, angrily. "tell ralph black to come to the door." "not oi. oi'm no sarvant for the likes of yez." "but i wish to speak with him, fool. it will be to his interest, probably." "i am here," suddenly replied a voice, and the merchant's son showed himself through the portcullis. "what have you to say, nattie manning?" "i want to tell you that you will save time and trouble by surrendering my brother." "you don't say!" sneered ralph. "and suppose we don't look at it in that light?" "you are a fool, that's all." "it is easy to call names out there." "it would be still easier if i had you here." "let me explain matters a little, ralph," spoke up mori, quietly. "you are in a bad box, and you know it. you and your father have committed a serious crime against the law by abducting grant, and you will suffer for it." "that's our lookout," was the reckless reply. "we have arranged matters so that you cannot hope to escape," continued the young japanese. "we have sent a messenger to the authorities, and in the course of a few hours a force of police will come to our assistance. it will then be an easy matter to capture you." "you think so?" "we know it to be so." "don't be too sure, john." now, if there is anything on earth that will anger a native of japan, it is the appellation "john." it places them on the same level with the chinamen in america, who conduct the familiar and omnipresent laundry, and, look you, the japanese rightly consider themselves much above their brother asiatics. mori felt the insult keenly, but he was too much of a gentleman to retort in kind. nattie--hot-tempered, impulsive lad--could not restrain himself. "you cowardly brute!" he shouted, shaking his fist at ralph. "i'd give half of what i expect to own on this earth to have you before me for five minutes." the merchant's son paled with anger, but he discreetly ignored the challenge. "what would you do, blowhard?" he blustered. "you think yourself something, but i can bring even you to your knees." "we will see about that when the officers of the law arrive," replied nattie, grimly. "as i said before, don't be too sure. i have not played all my cards." mori and nattie exchanged glances. what could the fellow mean? ralph speedily informed them. "do you think i would tamely submit to arrest and go from here with the certain knowledge that my destination would be a long term in a prison?" he snarled. "do you think i am a fool? i have a safeguard here in the person of your puny, crippled brother." again mori and nattie asked themselves what the fellow meant. was it possible he would be villain enough to resort to personal violence. the younger manning paled at the very thought. "what would you do?" he called out, and his voice was unsteady. ralph laughed, triumphantly. "i see i have touched the right spot," he replied. "i'll tell you in a very few words. if you do not permit us to go free from here and give your solemn promise--i guess you had better put it in writing--that you will not molest us for this, and also that you will withdraw from the competition for those army contracts, i'll kill grant manning with my own hands." nattie was very white when the english youth finished. his worst fears were realized. that ralph meant what he said he firmly believed. not so mori. "don't pay any attention to his threats," whispered the latter. "he is only trying what you americans call a 'bluff.' he wouldn't dare do any such thing. he thinks too much of his own neck, the precious scoundrel." as if in refutation of his opinion, ralph called out in determined tones: "i mean what i say. i would rather hang than live ten or fifteen years in prison. i leave it to you. you can take your choice. i will give you ten minutes to make up your minds, and if, at the end of that time, you do not agree to my terms it'll be the last of your brother." "come away where we can talk without being under the eye of that miserable villain," said mori, gravely. "wait; i wish to try a last chance," replied nattie. he added in a loud voice: "in the castle, there. willis round, cronin, do you intend to abide by ralph black's murderous proposition?" "that oi do, and if he'd take my advice, he'd kill th' lot of yez," instantly replied the irishman. the ex-bookkeeper's answer was longer in coming, and it was not so emphatic, but it was to the same effect. nattie was turning away sadly when he heard grant's familiar voice saying, resolutely: "do not give in, brother. wait for the police, and you can capture them. ralph won't----" the sentence remained unfinished. the speaker's captors had evidently interposed with effect. nattie and mori walked sadly to the edge of the forest. they left sumo in front of the entrance on watch. "there isn't any use talking about it," said the former. "we must agree to his terms. i wouldn't have a hair of grant's head harmed for all the contracts on earth. true, he may be lying, but it is better to run no risks. what do you think about it?" "i believe you are right. we will permit them to go free, but we'll wait until the expiration of the time mentioned. perhaps something will turn up. i hate to see that scoundrel and his mates crowing over us." "i have known ralph black a great many years, but i never thought he would prove to be such a thoroughly heartless and desperate villain. as a boy he was headstrong and willful. he delighted in cruelty to animals, and was brutal to those weaker than himself, but i little dreamed he would come to this." "the boy was father to the man," replied mori, philosophically. "he had it in him from birth. it is hereditary; see what his father is. well, the time is almost up, and we might as well go and confess ourselves beaten. ugh! it is a bitter pill to swallow." on rejoining sumo they found that worthy moving uneasily about in front of the entrance. they saw also that the space behind the portcullis was empty. the tramping of horses came from within, but there were no signs of ralph or his companions. "where in the deuce have they gone?" exclaimed nattie, anxiously. "i do not know, excellency," replied the porter. "the funny man with the fire hair and the youth went away from the door a few minutes ago. the tall, thin man, ran up to them and said something in a voice full of joy, then they all disappeared." "something is up," exclaimed mori, then he hailed the castle in a loud voice. there was no reply. nattie repeated the summons, but with the same result. now thoroughly alarmed, he and the young japanese advanced to the portcullis and beat upon it with their weapons. an echoing sound came from the gloomy interior, but that was all. sumo was instantly bidden to bring men with axes, and others were sent along the shore of the lake to see if an attempt at escape had been made. in due time the barrier at the entrance was broken away, and the two lads, followed by their native allies, rushed past into the ruins. over in one corner of what had been the main yard were five horses tethered to several posts. stores and articles of clothing were scattered about, but of the fugitive party there was no sign. a hasty search was made of the different apartments; the remains of the roof were examined; the outer walls inspected, but at last nattie and his companions were compelled to acknowledge themselves baffled. the entire party, prisoner and all, had mysteriously disappeared. chapter xxx. the tragedy in the tunnel. greatly puzzled, the lads searched the interior again and again. not a place large enough to accommodate even a dog was omitted. the towers were mere shells, with here and there a huge beam of wood, all that was left of the different floors. a door opening upon the lake was found, but it had been impassable for years. masses of _débris_, encumbering the castle, were moved about, but nothing was discovered until finally the giant, sumo, while delving into the darkest corner of the most remote apartment, suddenly stepped into a hole, and narrowly saved himself by grasping at the edge. his cries brought the whole party helter-skelter into the room. a torch of resinous pine was lighted, and the mystery revealed. the hole was the jagged entrance to a tunnel, the bottom of which was dimly visible in the rays cast by the flickering light. "it is a secret exit from the castle," cried nattie. "quick! bring other torches; we must follow at once." "i thought we would find something of the kind," remarked mori, no less excited. "all these old _shiros_ have such outlets. it is fortunate we have found this so easily. the other party cannot be very far in advance." there was much running about, but finally a start was made with an ample supply of torches. sumo was the only native that could be induced to accompany the lads, the others hanging back in superstitious terror. word was left with one of the _'rikisha_ men to hold the police at the castle until word arrived, then nattie and mori eagerly descended into the cavity, sumo bringing up the rear with the sticks of pine and his ancient sword. a few crumbling steps led to the bottom, which was about twelve or thirteen feet from the floor. a little heap of dust at the lower level bore the imprints of several feet. it was proof enough that the fugitives had entered the tunnel. a couple of yards from the entrance the excavation made a sharp descent. the floor was thick with slime, and moisture dripped from overhead. the tunnel became smaller and smaller and traces of masonry were found. "we are passing under the moat," said mori, elevating his torch. "ugh! what a dreadful place this is." nattie made no reply. he walked ahead steadily, and ever kept his eyes in advance, as if eager to catch sight of the fugitives. huge rats peered at the party from sheltered nooks, or darted across their path, as if careless of molestation. the silence was intense; the solitude painful. presently the air became foul. it was thick and heavy with an odor like that of a tomb. on turning a corner they suddenly came upon a row of human skeletons stretched out in an orderly manner upon the floor. it was a ghastly spectacle, and brought a terrified cry from sumo. he stopped and appeared unwilling to cross the bones. "come on, or remain alone," said nattie, grimly. the giant porter promptly followed them, but his huge frame shook with superstitious fear. at the end of five minutes, a brief halt was made. the tunnel was filled with a dark, moldy air, difficult to breathe. gasping and coughing, mori turned an inquiring eye to his friend. "we must not turn back," replied the lad. "they passed through here, and we can also. come; we are losing time. see, the torches are burning out. if we do not hasten we will be left in darkness." the very possibility of such a dread occurrence sent the trio on almost at a run. to be left in darkness in the tunnel, with its ghastly tenants, was terrifying to contemplate. sumo magnified the horrors a hundredfold through his ignorance, and his plight was pitiful to see. on, on; the torches flickering; grotesque shadows surrounding them; the atmosphere becoming more dank and difficult to breathe with each passing moment. huge rodents pattering before, their sharp, piercing eyes gleaming like the optics of fleeing demons; a dripping of water here and puddles of foul scum there. only one thing strengthened the little party as they sped along, and that was the knowledge that other humans had passed through the same horrors but a few brief moments before. "how much farther?" gasped mori, for the tenth time. "how much farther?" echoed sumo, with a groan. "heart up," replied nattie, redoubling his speed. "we must be almost there. don't give up. remember ralph and the others took the same journey. are they more brave than we?" "you are right, my boy. we must persist; the end cannot be far away." they had already traveled a distance at least equal to two city blocks. the tunnel had made various turns, but as yet they had not encountered any side excavations. this was fortunate, as it permitted them to continue ahead without any doubt as to the proper passage. presently, to the unspeakable delight of all three, the air became less foul. "we are almost there," cried nattie, cheerily. "courage, courage!" it was time. the torches, mere pine slivers, had burned away until only a few inches remained. they had started with an ample supply, but while passing the ghastly array of skeletons, sumo had dropped the reserve bundle in his terror. suddenly the one carried by mori gave out; then nattie's gave a feeble splutter and expired. presently, however, the floor in the tunnel began to brighten, and finally, on turning a corner, a feeble speck of light became perceptible in the distance. "the end, thank god!" shouted mori. the echoes of his voice had hardly died away when a most dreadful thing happened. without the slightest warning to herald its approach there came a terrific rending shock. it seemed as if the very bowels of the earth had collapsed in one great crash. nattie and mori and sumo were thrown to the ground with violent force, and there they lay mercifully deprived of consciousness, while around them the walls and roof and floor of the tunnel heaved and pitched in the throes of an earthquake. the disturbance only lasted a moment, but it was some time before the little party recovered. nattie was the first to stagger to his feet. the torch had gone out, leaving an impenetrable darkness. the welcoming light--the light proclaiming the exit from the tunnel--had disappeared. the lad was bewildered, almost daft, and small wonder. he lurched about until at last he stumbled and fell across mori. the shock brought the young japanese to his senses. then sumo scrambled to his feet. panic-stricken, they started to run. slipping, staggering, sorely bruising themselves against the sides of the passage, they fled in overwhelming terror. a yard, ten yards, a hundred yards, and then they brought up with a crash against an impenetrable barrier of rock and earth. the exit was closed! chapter xxxi. ralph secures reinforcements. "the exit is closed!" the cry came simultaneously from all three. shrill and with a terrible weight of despair it echoed through the tunnel. then came a weird crooning. it was the death-song of sumo's people. mori stopped him with a fierce command, saying, harshly: "silence, dog! would you add to our misery? silence, i say!" the result of civilization now became apparent. the first natural feeling of terror passed, the reaction came, and both nattie and the young japanese were able to discuss their situation with more or less calmness. "this is dreadful, simply dreadful," said the latter; "but we must face it and see what can be done to save ourselves." "what was it, an earthquake?" "yes, but not much of a shock. we felt it down here; above ground it was simply a wave of minor strength." "but others may come, masters," exclaimed the porter, with chattering teeth. "you are right. we must hasten back the way we came. the shock has barred our passage in this direction; only the castle exit remains to us." there was little time lost in commencing the retreat. grasping hands the three staggered along the tunnel floor, walking, running, and even crawling at times. the dust that had filled the excavation immediately after the earthquake soon settled, and the breathing became easier. presently nattie stopped. "what is the matter?" anxiously asked mori. "grant--what of him?" replied the lad, pitifully. "do you think they succeeded in leaving before the shock came?" "undoubtedly. we saw the exit, and had almost gained it. they had at least ten minutes' start. don't worry; grant is safe." reassured, nattie resumed the flight with his companions. in due time they came to the crypt occupied by the skeletons, but sumo never faltered. that terror had paled before a greater. a foreboding that another barrier might be encountered brought a pallor to the cheeks of the fugitives. the fear was fortunately without foundation. the passage remained clear, and in due course of time they reached the bottom of the steps leading to the castle floor. weary, worn out, their clothing disordered and torn, and with the fear of death still lingering in their faces, the three painfully scrambled into the air and flung themselves, gasping for breath, upon the stone pavement of the inner yard of the _shiro_. the place was deserted. the coolies and _'rikisha_ men had evidently fled at the first signs of the earthquake. presently a confused murmur of voices from the outside indicated that they were still within easy call. after a brief moment of rest nattie staggered to his feet, and, followed by his companions, emerged upon the drawbridge. their appearance was received with shouts of astonishment and awe. to the superstitious eyes of the natives, they were as beings of another world. that any mortal could survive the clutches of the _jishin_, or earthquake, while in its domains underground was not possible. with one accord the terrified natives fled for the forest. they were speedily brought to a halt by mori, who was in no mood for foolishness. rushing after them, he grasped the nearest and fiercely ordered him to bring food and _sake_, the mild wine of the country. "fools; what think you?" he exclaimed. "we are not ghosts. we have escaped from the tunnel through the aid of a merciful providence. we are exhausted, and require meat and drink." with many ejaculations of awe and amazement the _karumayas_ obeyed. before eating, mori, nattie and sumo removed the tattered remnants of their clothing, and bathed themselves in the cool waters of the lake. then a few mouthfuls of food were taken. the wine put new life in the lads. refreshed and invigorated, they prepared for the pursuit. it was decided without caution that the caves must be reached without delay. "i am positive it is their destination," said nattie. "undoubtedly. we will follow the scoundrels with the aid of their own horses. sumo, you and two others come with us. the rest can wait for the arrival of the police. forward!" after the party had ridden a short distance, mori was seen to cast many anxious glances toward the mighty peak of bandai-san. it was in plain view, apparently on the other shore of the lake, and its sloping reaches spoke eloquently of the ages in which the flow of molten lava had created the majestic mountain. "what is the matter?" asked nattie. "i don't like the looks of the old fellow this morning," replied the young japanese. "do you see that misty vapor hovering over the summit. that means activity of the volcano. mark my words, it is on the eve of an eruption." "yes, bandai-san is awaking from his long sleep," put in sumo. "that earthquake must have had something to do with it," said nattie. "no doubt. it may be the forerunner of a strong disturbance." as they rode on, the curious cloud became more pronounced. fearing the recurrence of a shock, the party avoided the shelter of trees, and kept to the open as much as possible. after leaving the neighborhood of the lake a road was encountered, so bad that it was necessary to walk the horses. at last it degenerated into a mere path among the narrow paddy fields. a collection of rude huts hardly numerous enough to deserve the title of village was reached after a while. singularly enough, there were no inhabitants visible. not the slightest signs of life could be seen save the still smoking embers of a fire outside of one of the houses. this apparent air of desertion was rendered all the more strange because of the intense interest generally created among the natives by the cavalcade. "find out what is the matter, sumo," directed mori. the giant cantered up to one of the huts and rapped lustily upon the wall with his sword. presently a head was thrust through a hole in the thatch, but it immediately disappeared on seeing the warlike porter. "come out of that," sumo shouted, authoritatively. "give my masters some information, or i'll burn your hut about your ears. out, i say!" there was a moment of delay, then a shrinking, half-clad japanese coolie crept from the door and cast himself at sumo's feet. he was evidently greatly terrified. he wailed aloud, and refused to raise his head from the dust. impatient at the delay, mori and nattie rode up and commanded the wretch to speak. "did a party composed of foreigners and several coolies with a prisoner pass through here recently?" asked the former. "yes, excellency," stammered the man. "there were seven in all. they stopped here, and compelled twenty of our best men to accompany them. they made them carry reaping-hooks and almost all the provisions in town. they took my store of rice for the winter." "whew! ralph intends to prepare for a siege," exclaimed nattie. "what a fool he is! men and provisions, eh? what can he hope to do against the authorities?" "did they state their destination?" mori asked the native. "no, but they went in that direction," he replied, pointing beyond bandai-san. "that's the way to the caves," muttered nattie, then he added, aloud: "how long have they been gone?" "not twenty minutes, excellency. look! you can see the dust still lingering above the bushes upon that hill. they are not to the base of the mountain yet." after tossing the man a couple of _yen_, to repay him for the loss of his rice, nattie put spurs to his horse and led the way up the path. presently the party reached a species of tableland, near the summit of an almost inaccessible hill which rose near the base of the volcano. chapter xxxii. the flashing of the swords. the spot seemed wild and desolate, there being no evidence of cultivation or of human habitation. on one side extended numerous deep ravines, which gave an air of solemnity to the scene. the narrow, seldom-used path turned sharply to the left in a direction away from their destination. a halt was called upon a natural platform overgrown with brambles. sumo, who had some knowledge of woodcraft, leaped from his horse and examined the brush. "they have passed here, masters," he announced. "i find little threads hanging to the thorns; and the grass is trampled in places." "we must proceed with caution," said mori, restraining nattie, who had already started. "remember, ralph has a number of men with him, and he is liable to ambuscade us." "i will go on ahead," volunteered the giant porter, swinging his massive sword vindictively. "you follow slowly. if i see anything i will make the sound of a wild crow." "don't lose any time in your scouting," said nattie, impatiently. "confound them, they'll get away from us yet." leaving his horse in charge of one of the coolies, sumo slipped through the brush and disappeared down one of the ravines. after looking to their weapons, the rest silently followed. they had barely traveled a hundred yards when the harsh cry of a wild crow came to their ears; then before the echoes had died away, the fierce clashing of steel thrilled the air. "he has been attacked," shouted nattie, putting his horse to the bushes. "quick, we have them now!" with the rest at his back, he dashed down a gentle slope into the head of the ravine. passing a large clump of trees they came upon a most thrilling scene. two hundred yards from the hill the valley narrowed to a space not wider than a city sidewalk. the "gut" was formed by a huge mass of earth, which had fallen from the heights overhead. the bottom was evidently the dry bed of a mountain stream, and innumerable bowlders and jagged pieces of flint were scattered here and there, rendering walking difficult. the scenery was an afterthought. that which instantly attracted the attention of nattie and mori was the figure of a native almost as large as sumo standing at the beginning of the narrow passage. the fellow was armed with a sword, which he shook vindictively at the party. several feet away stood the giant porter, calmly whetting the huge weapon given him by mori. farther up the ravine stood the irishman, patrick cronin. the man grinned impudently on seeing the newcomers, then he turned and disappeared behind a mass of underbrush. "after him!' shouted nattie, riding headlong into the valley. "hold!" the abrupt warning came from sumo. he had strode in the way with one hand raised. "what do you mean?" demanded mori. and as he spoke he leveled his revolver at the challenging figure standing in the middle of the "gut." "don't shoot him, excellency," exclaimed sumo, imploringly. "that is raiko, the thug. i knew him in yokohama. he did me an injury once. now, i claim satisfaction." "what nonsense is this?" shouted nattie. "would you delay us, man?" "it will not take long," replied sumo, with a scowl directed toward raiko. "i'll promise you his head in the song of a stork. see! i commence." he sprang forward, and with great agility threw himself upon raiko. the latter uttered a shrill cry, seemingly of exultation and defiance, and in the twinkling of an eye the ancient enemies were engaged in what evidently promised to be mortal combat. human nature is not proof against the thrill and excitement of war. much as we deplore fighting, there is something in the clash of arms that fascinates us. from the glorious spectacle of marshaled armies to the duel between individuals, there is a charm not to be resisted by mankind of any degree. nattie and mori were not different in that respect from other lads. they were both truthful, honest, manly boys, with a just knowledge of right and wrong, but deep down in their hearts was a little of the old leaven with which we are still afflicted more or less. for the moment they forgot their quest and watched the fight with eager eyes. the two combatants were equally matched. if anything, sumo was slightly taller, but raiko made up for the discrepancy in a greater breadth of shoulders. both were armed with the heavy two-edged sword formerly used by the ancient _daimios_, and they were fairly skilled in the practice. raiko had the advantage in position. where he had taken his stand was a spot elevated a foot or more above the rest of the ravine. sumo, however, had greater room in which to swing his weapon, and in case of pressure he had the ravine at his back. at the first onslaught the play was furious, and the rocks rang with the clash of steel. cut, slash, went the swords. backward and forward sprang the antagonists. now to the right, now to the left, dodging, leaping, advancing, and retreating. in the midst of it all came the hissing murmur of strained voices. tongues were going as well as arms--words keen with venom; phrases sharpened with hate played their part in the fierce duel. presently the fury of the combat had slackened. nature was calling a halt. of the two, raiko had suffered the most. he was bleeding in a dozen places. but sumo had not entirely escaped. a broad, raw wound on his right thigh showed where his antagonist's sword had tasted blood. like two bucks weary with strife, the twain backed away from one another and, leaning upon their weapons, glared with unabated hatred. the respite was momentary. ere nattie and mori could speak they were at it again. "dog! robber of the lame!" shouted sumo, aiming a shrewd blow at his enemy. "your career is ended. now for a taste of revenge. remember the night at the _matsura_? remember the cowardly thrust thou gavest my brother?" "yes; and i have one such for thee, worm!" retorted raiko. "thou bulk of nothingness, i'll send thee to the offal heap to-day, and--ugh! ugh!" with a harsh cry, almost inhuman in its intensity, he fell against the side of the ravine, sent there by a terrible downward blow from sumo's triumphant sword. leaping upon his prostrate enemy, the giant porter gave a sweep of the weapon, then he stood erect with raiko's gory head in his grasp! chapter xxxiii. "grant! brother, is it you?" the scene was tragic. a ray from the afternoon sun glinted down through a rift in the foliage, bringing out in bold relief the warrior figure of the giant. thus he stood for a moment, evidently tasting his triumph to the full, then, with a contemptuous laugh, he tossed the head of his fallen foe upon the prostrate trunk. "send me to the offal heap, thou braggart?" he exclaimed. "where art thou now, raiko? it was a lie to be answered with the rest of thy sins at the foot of the throne of buddha. poof! that was an easy fight. now i try conclusions with the fiery-bearded foreigner." turning, he sped up the ravine and vanished from sight, leaving nattie and mori eying one another in astonishment. "what a bloodthirsty wretch it is!" said the latter. "civilization is merely skin deep in some," dryly replied his companion. "this is a sorry spectacle even in the interior of your country. don't you think we should feel ashamed?" "i don't know but that you are right," was the naïve reply. "but, confound it all, nattie, sumo had great provocation, and, remember, he fought in our interests." "then we will forgive him. i'll harbor a little contempt for myself for some time, though. let somebody bury the body, or take it to the nearest village. come; we have lost too much time as it is." "sumo is as rash as he is brave," remarked mori, as he rode along at his friend's side. "if he don't watch out, patrick will nab him." while trotting across a rocky shelf, nattie chanced to look up toward the cone of the nearby volcano. to his surprise, he saw that the vapory mist had given way to a dense volume of pitch-black smoke. little tongues of flame shot athwart the column at intervals, and hovering over the summit was a cloud of ashes glinting dully in the sun. "that looks threatening," he exclaimed, calling mori's attention to it. "by jove, bandai-san is in eruption," was the instant reply. "it is the first time in my memory, too." then he added, gravely: "nattie, this comes at a bad time." "why?" "if there should be a flow of lava--which is highly probable--our stay in this neighborhood will be dangerous." "does it ever reach this far?" "no; but we must pass near the base of the mountain on our way to the caves." "and the other party?" "they will be placed in peril also." "then we must catch them before they reach there," exclaimed nattie, urging his horse forward. "i don't care a snap for ralph or his crew, but grant----" "sh-h-h! some one is coming down the ravine." a dull noise, like the scrambling of naked feet over the gravel and rocky soil of the dry river bed, came to their ears. it increased until at last it became evident that a considerable body of men were approaching. "quick! out of the way!" exclaimed nattie, turning sharply to the right. reining in his steed behind an overhanging mass of earth, he drew his revolver and waited in silence. mori soon joined him. they had barely concealed themselves when a score of half-naked natives dashed past, uttering cries of alarm as they ran. they were apparently wild with terror. the cause was speedily explained. while hurrying down the ravine more than one would pause and cast fearful glances toward the smoking crater of old bandai-san. the impending eruption was the secret of their flight. "it is the body of villagers taken away by ralph," said mori. "their terror of the volcano has proved stronger than their fear of the foreigners. good! i am glad they have abandoned him. now he won't have such an overwhelming force." "did you notice whether the two other coolies were with them? i mean those who were with ralph at the castle?" "i think i did see one. humph! you can rest assured that very few natives will remain in the neighborhood when a volcano is spouting fire. i even wonder that sumo----" as if the name carried the magic power of conjuring, it was barely uttered when the bushes on the left slope of the ravine parted and the giant porter strode into view. "hail, masters," he said, stopping and wiping his perspiring face. "where have you been? what have you seen?" asked nattie and mori, in a breath. "i was in chase of the devil with the red beard." "did you see him?" sumo laughed grimly. "yes, as the hunter sees the hawk in its flight," he replied. "red-beard is swift in his pace when danger threatens." "did you see the others?" eagerly asked nattie. "no, but i followed them close to the mud caves. poof! they are fools. know they not that the demon of the mountain, old 'jishin' himself, lives there? and now is his hunting time. see! bandai-san is angry. he sends forth fire and smoke. presently the river that runs molten red will flow down the mountainside." "are you afraid?" rather contemptuously asked nattie. "not of mortal, master; but it is no shame to bow to the wrath of the gods. whither go you?" "in search of my brother," was the terse reply, and the lad set spurs to his horse. "you shall not go alone," spoke up mori, riding after him. sumo glanced after their retreating forms, then he cast his eyes upward to where the smoke over the crater was assuming a ruddy tinge. it was enough. tossing up his arms, he started off at a long trot and vanished over the bit of tableland at the head of the ravine. his superstitious fears had proved the victor. "mori, you are a friend indeed," said nattie, when the young japanese rejoined him. "but i cannot permit you to run unnecessary risks for our sake. return while you have the chance." "not much," was the hearty reply. "where you go i go. you insult me. do you think i would leave you and grant in the lurch? not if ten thousand volcanoes were to erupt. tut! tut! that will do. not another word." "i will say this, old fellow," gratefully. "you will never regret your actions on this trip. we will find some way to repay you." on up the valley rode the two friends, side by side. presently a place was reached where it became necessary to leave the horses and continue on foot. shortly after they had dismounted there came a deep rumbling noise and the earth trembled beneath their feet. pale but resolute, they strode along. there was a smell of sulphur in the air; the leaves of the scrubby trees were coated with impalpable gray ashes, and a sifting cloud of powdery fragments fell upon them. suddenly, while passing around an abrupt bend in the ravine, they saw ahead of them the figure of a youth limping in their direction. nattie gave the newcomer one startled glance, then he rushed forward, crying: "grant! brother, is it you?" chapter xxxiv. the mysterious forces of nature. it was grant. hobbling along as fast as his crippled limbs could carry him, he threw himself into his brother's arms, and for a moment they forgot all else in the emotion of their greeting. then mori came in for his well-earned share. the amount of handshaking and incoherent expressions that followed was wonderful. mutual explanations were demanded and given with hearty good will. the lame youth told briefly his experiences on board the junk, then he added: "after we left that dreadful tunnel running from the castle i almost gave up hope. i felt instinctively that you were underground when that first earthquake shock came, and i was awfully worried." "we escaped, as you can see," said nattie, with a happy grin. "if not you are pretty lively ghosts," said grant, in the same vein; then he continued: "that brute ralph hurried us along the mountain for a while. then we stopped at a village and compelled some of the poor natives to accompany us. i tell you, ralph black must be crazy. none but a lunatic would hope to escape from the law for such an outrage. fancy him thinking he could take me to a cave in the mountain and keep off the lawful forces of the country." "it is past belief," remarked mori. "but tell us, how did you manage to escape?" "i am coming to that. but hadn't we better leave this neighborhood? ralph and patrick are liable to follow me at any moment." "where is willis round?" quickly asked nattie, noting the omission of the bookkeeper's name. grant smiled. "we needn't fear anything from him," he said. "is he dead?" "no; he helped me to escape." "what!" "it is a fact. wait; i'll tell you. after we arrived in the vicinity of the caves--which are dreadful places, by the way--round slipped up to me and began to talk about matters in general. before he had said many words i saw his object. he was trying to 'hedge,' as they call it in racing parlance." "to crawl out of the scrape, eh?" "yes; i led him on, and he presently asked me point-blank if i would promise to save him from punishment if he should help me to escape. i replied that i would do what i could for him, but i would promise nothing. he was content with that, and after a while he succeeded in cutting the thongs binding my hands. "shortly after, while we were hurrying through a dense copse i slipped behind and ran as fast as i could on the back trail. it was a risky piece of business, as ralph had threatened to shoot me if i made another attempt to escape." "and the villain would do it, too," said nattie. "i believe he would. the boy is crazy--clean stark crazy. none but a lunatic would do as he has done." "they must see their mistake now," remarked mori, grimly. "they do. willis round is nearly frightened to death. patrick still remains obstinate and advises a general slaughter of all, but i think he is weakening. the natives they took from the village deserted on account of the threatening eruption of the volcano." all three glanced up to the summit of bandai-san. the smoke and flame had increased in volume. it was a terrifying sight and instinctively the little party moved toward the head of the ravine. they had walked only a short distance when a tremor shook the earth, sending a mass of dirt and rocks tumbling down the side of the valley. then, in the twinkling of an eye, a thick cloud of ashes was showered upon them. now thoroughly frightened, the boys set out at a run, nattie and mori assisting the crippled youth, one on each side. suddenly a dull shock, like the explosion of a mine, almost knocked them prostrate, and directly in front they saw the earth fly from a conical hole in the side of the ravine with the impetus of a hundred-ton gun. when the dust and _débris_ settled, they beheld a small crater, probably fifteen feet in width, occupying a spot a dozen yards above the dry bed of the stream. it was only a small affair as craters go, but the mysterious operation of the natural volcanic forces sent a thrill through the lads, and they scrambled to their feet with but one intent, and that was to leave the place as quickly as possible. "come!" hoarsely exclaimed mori, turning a face pallid with dread to his companions. "we haven't a moment to lose. if an eruption should occur and the lava flow down this side of the mountain nothing could save us from a horrible death." "is it as bad as that?" gasped nattie, glancing fearfully toward the volcano. the answer came not in words. suddenly, and with terrific force a thunderous report rent the air. darkness darker than midnight fell upon the scene as if a pall had descended upon them from the heavens. a blinding shower of hot ashes and sand rained in torrents, then--then while the three lads groveled with their faces in the dust the earth rocked and rocked, and rocked again. presently--was it a moment or an eternity?--a strange hissing noise became apparent. multiply the escaping steam from an overcharged boiler ten thousand times and you would only have a faint idea of the terrible noise that filled the air to the exclusion of all other sounds. for the space of many seconds the earth continued to undulate like the surface of the sea. explosion after explosion came in rapid succession, each seeming greater than its predecessor, until at last one came that shook the earth to its foundations. to the three lads prone in the little ravine it was as if the end of the world had come. they lost all thought of time or place. they remained bowed down before the majestic forces of nature, incapable of moving, or speaking, or even thinking. in time the dread convulsions ceased. ill with a nausea like that of the sea, grant and nattie and mori finally scrambled to their feet and attempted to run. it was a futile effort. their trembling limbs refused to carry them, and they sank back once more. let not the reader think it cowardice. no more brave and sturdy youths than nattie and mori could be found in all japan. and grant--if feeble in frame and prone to disease physically, his soul was absolutely fearless in the common happenings of life. only those who have experienced the awful feeling incidental to one of those terrible convulsions of nature called earthquakes can testify as to its effect on the human mind. it is the most mysterious, and the most dreadful force known to man. the writer speaks from experience, having narrowly escaped with his life from one encountered while on a journey through a central american republic. it came without warning, and in its duration of not more than eight seconds--think of it!--leveled hundreds of houses and claimed a score of human lives. its immediate effect was as if the earth was slipping away and one's grasp lost on all things mundane. chapter xxxv. retribution! it was some time before the boys could again regain their feet. as the minutes slipped past without a recurrence of the shocks their courage and self-confidence returned. they did not stop to discuss the matter, but promptly obeyed their first instinct, which was to leave the accursed spot without delay. they had barely started down the ravine with tottering limbs when nattie, who was in the rear heard a hoarse cry behind him. it was not human. it was harsh and gurgling, like the scream of a wild fowl in the clutches of a giant eagle. the lad paused and glanced back, then he cried out in horror. his companions instantly turned and looked in the direction indicated by his outstretched hand. approaching them at a staggering walk was the almost unrecognizable figure of a tall, thin man. his clothing hung in charred tatters from a frame that seemed bent and distorted, evidently from some great calamity; the hat was gone, the hair burned away, and caking the lower limbs as high as the knees was a mass of grayish, slimy mud. as he advanced in a series of tremulous lurches he stretched forth his hands in piteous supplication. presently he fell to the ground and lay there writhing like a wounded animal. the boys ran to his side. they gave him one glance, then recoiled in horrified amazement. "heavens above!" cried grant; "it is willis round!" the poor wretch at their feet twisted around and revealed a scarred, marked face with sightless eyes. after great effort, he whispered, hoarsely: "water! water! give me water!" luckily, nattie carried a canteen-shaped bottle of the precious fluid. bending over, he placed it to the sufferer's lips. with what joy and relief did he drink! the draught placed new life in him. he presently gasped: "who is--is here? is it grant--grant manning?" "yes, it is i," quickly replied the lame youth. "can i do anything for you? ha! why do i ask such a question? quick, nattie, mori; we must take him to the nearest town. he needs medical attendance at once." "it is too late," groaned round. "i am a dead man. the end of the world is at hand, and i am caught in sin. the others----" "what of them?" asked grant, eagerly. "they are gone." "dead?" "yes; the volcano was shattered by the eruption, the liquid mud and earth--ugh!--rolled down to the caves. i saw it in time and almost succeeded in--in escaping. but ralph and patrick were buried under thousands--ugh!--of tons of molten earth." for the first time since the convulsion the boys glanced up at the peak of bandai-san. to their awe they saw that its shape had been totally changed. instead of the graceful cone with its dimple of a crater, it now seemed shorn of half its height. the summit was simply a jagged edge of cliff-like reaches. [ ]in plain view to the left was a peculiar river, almost black in color, and evidently rolling down the steep slope of the mountainside like the waters of a cascade. dense clouds of steam hovered over it, and plainly apparent in the air were strange, weird sounds impossible to describe. the grewsome sight brought back the first feeling of terror, and for a moment the lads eyed one another in doubt. the desire to flee soon passed away, however, and they again turned their attention to the prostrate wretch. a change was coming over him. it needed no medical skill to tell that the man was dying. nattie gave him more water, and others made a couch of their coats, but that was all. willis round was beyond mortal aid. in the course of half an hour he gave a gasp, half arose upon his elbow and then fell back lifeless. he was buried where he had died. scooping a shallow grave in the soft earth he was placed tenderly within and left to his last rest. as they hurried away from the spot a strange silence fell upon grant and his companions. one brief hour before they had been eager in their denunciations of ralph black and his fellow conspirators. now all that was changed. an awful fate had overtaken them in the very midst of their sins. in the presence of the dread retribution all animosity was forgotten. their death was from the awful hand of nature, and their tomb under thousands of tons of mother earth! with all possible speed the boys left the eventful ravine. the horses tethered near the spot of tableland had disappeared, evidently stampeded by the convulsions. in due time the village from which ralph had taken his reinforcements was reached. it was entirely deserted. at a small town beyond the castle of yamagata, reached late in the afternoon, sumo was found with other natives more brave than their fellows. the giant porter became wild with delight and ran forth to meet the tired wayfarers. "welcome! thrice welcome!" he shouted, bowing his huge bulk almost to the ground. "and thou escaped from old 'jishin' after all? glad am i, excellencies; glad am i! but where are the fugitives? and where is the foreigner, old red-beard?" "they are dead," gravely replied mori. "they were killed by the eruption. get us meat and drink at once, coward. i am minded to punish you for your desertion, dog." sumo shrugged his shoulders philosophically. "as thou will, little master," he replied. "punish if it be in thy heart. i would have fought for thee if mortal enemies threatened, but what is my puny arm to that of the underground demon?" "i do not blame you for running away, sumo," spoke up nattie, with an involuntary shudder. "it was an awful experience, and one i have no desire to meet again." "amen!" fervently exclaimed grant. that afternoon and night the boys rested. at daybreak on the following day they started for the nearest railway station, in _jinrikishas_. as reports came in from the country nearest to the other slope of bandai-san the terrible nature of the calamity became apparent. whole towns had been swept away by the dreadful sea of molten mud thrown from the crater. thousands had been injured, and a thousand lost. many miles of land had been ruined. the destruction was almost irreparable. at tokio the boys purchased new outfits. they remained a few hours in the capital, and then left for yokohama. at nattie's personal request, sumo had accompanied them. it was the lad's intention to install the giant as a factotum of the firm in the counting-room. it was late in the morning when they steamed into the railway station. as they left the train, mori turned to grant with a cry of dismay. "by jove! do you know what day this is?" he asked, excitedly. "no--that is--it's----" "the first of august, and the bids for those army contracts are to be opened at noon!" footnote: [ ] an actual occurrence. on the sixteenth of july, , the volcano of bandai-san, in northern japan, exploded, killing a thousand people. the mountain was almost rent asunder, one-third being turned into liquid mud! chapter xxxvi. conclusion. "the army contracts!" echoed grant. "why, bless my soul, you are right! this is the day set by the war department for opening them." all three lads instinctively glanced at the station clock. "great scott!" exclaimed nattie; "it's after eleven!" "in less than an hour the board will sit, and at tokio--twenty miles away!" mori cried. "we have lost the chance after all." "not without a struggle," firmly replied the lame youth. "there's mr. burr over there. he is here to meet us. nattie, take him to the nearest stationer, and purchase three or four quires of official paper, pen and ink. be back in five minutes. mori, come with me." while nattie, too bewildered to speak, hurried away on his errand, grant grasped the japanese youth's arm, and almost ran to the station master's office. they found the official seated at his desk. "what time does the next train leave for the capital?" asked grant. "at eleven-thirty, sir." "too late. how long will it take you to start a special train?" the railway employee stared at his questioner in surprise. "a special train for tokio?" he asked. "yes." "we couldn't have it ready under twenty minutes. why, what----" "never mind the reason, sir," interrupted grant, impatiently. "i must be in tokio before twelve o'clock." "it is impossible, sir." "not at all. it must be done. where is the engine that brought the train in a few moments ago?" "it is still in the station, but it will go to the running sheds before long." "i must have that engine," exclaimed grant, with determination. "i will pay you five hundred _yen_ for an hour's use of it. i will also give a bonus of fifty _yen_ each to the engineer and fireman." five minutes later a powerful locomotive left the station, bearing the party. a small table had been secured, and hard at work upon it was mr. burr, writing for dear life as grant dictated. the line was clear, telegraphic orders having been sent to that effect from yokohama, and the intricate mass of iron flew upon its journey at the rate of seventy miles an hour. it was a strange spectacle, and one never before witnessed in all japan. to the engineer and fireman, native born, it was a novelty indeed, and they cast many curious glances at the group upon the tender. as the miles were covered at terrific speed, the ponderous engine swayed and rocked like a ship in distress. but amid the lurching and tossing of the fabric, grant stood imperturbably droning word after word, sentence upon sentence, while the canny scot jotted them down as best he could. the document was a lengthy one, full of circumlocution and dreary phrases, but at the end of twelve minutes, when the outskirts of tokio came in sight, it was finished. the three members of the firm affixed their names just as the panting engine came to a sudden stop in the railway station of the capital. _jinrikishas_ with fleet _karumayas_ had been ordered by telegraph. the distance to the war department was at least a mile. springing into the vehicles, the party were carried swiftly through the streets, a promise of ten times the usual fare having lent wings to the men's feet. a clock observed midway indicated a quarter of twelve. "on, on, men!" cried grant, imploringly. "fifty _yen_ each if you do it before the stroke of twelve." the promise was as a whip to a spirited horse. from lagging steps the _karumayas_ bounded into a run. down the narrow streets they darted, past gardens, through thoroughfares crowded with pedestrians; on, on, until at last, with a final spurt, the four _jinrikishas_ came to a halt in front of the japanese war office. leaving mr. burr to settle with the coolies--who had well earned their pay--grant dashed into the building just as the first stroke of a sonorous bell overhead proclaimed the hour of noon. as he passed through the entrance he noticed a door at the right bearing upon its panels in japanese, "war department. office of the army board." it was standing slightly ajar, and from the interior came a confused murmur of voices. something prompted grant and his companions to stop and peer through. seated at a large desk were several officers in uniform and other gentlemen in civilian's clothes. in the center was yoshisada udono, grant's friend. occupying chairs in the main portion of the room were the german merchants of yokohama, swartz and bauer, and ralph's father, jesse black. the warning bell had reached the seventh stroke! arising to his feet with a triumphant smile upon his lean, suave face, the english merchant advanced to the desk and laid thereon a packet. as he turned to resume his seat there was a noise at the door, and the lame youth marched in with calm dignity. "ah, i see i am just in time," he said, with a pleasant smile. "mr. udono, will you please accept our bid for the contracts?" "certainly, grant, with the greatest pleasure," quickly replied the secretary. "where have you been? i actually thought you would be----" he was interrupted by a snarl of mingled stupefaction and rage. mr. black, who had been staring open mouthed at the lads, sprang forward, and shouted: "it is too late! it is past the time. the hour of twelve----" "has not struck yet," quietly interrupted grant. "listen! ten, eleven, twelve! i was three seconds to the good." if ever baffled fury sat enthroned on a man's countenance it did then upon that of the english merchant. he was speechless with anger and disappointment. shaking his fist in grant's face, he stammered and choked in a futile effort to berate him. "mr. black, a word with you," suddenly said nattie, stepping up. the lad's tone was full of meaning. he turned and added to his brother and mori: "let us leave for some quiet place and have it over with. you know we have a sad duty to perform." "what, what's that?" asked the merchant, in alarm, recovering his speech. "my son ralph! what of him? don't tell me he is injured." "come with us," replied grant, evasively. leaving mori to make a brief explanation to mr. udono, nattie and he took the englishman into a side room and there told the story of his son's awful end. it is a strange commentary on human nature that even the vilest beast contains a well of tenderness. the hand that slays in cruel sport can also caress with fond affection. the african mother has her maternal love; the foulest rogue a word of kindness. mr. black was an unscrupulous man. he was a scoundrel at heart, but there was an oasis in the desert of his immoral nature. it was his love for his son ralph. the news of his offspring's death came as a terrible blow. his grief was pitiful. the spectacle of a strong man weeping in agony of spirit swept away all thoughts of punishment. grant exchanged glances with his brother, and then said, sadly, but with firmness: "mr. black, we know everything. we know fully your connection with the foul plot to abduct me, but we are content with our triumph over you. we could have you arrested and sent to prison for a term of years, but we will be merciful. you can go forth in freedom, but on certain conditions." the miserable man stood listening with bowed head. "you must leave japan at once," continued grant, "and also make restitution of the money overpaid to you on account of our father's debt. that debt was paid to you before his death, and you know it." "no, grant, your father did not pay me," replied mr. black, brokenly. "then you still deny it!" exclaimed the lame youth, his voice growing hard. "i will explain. i received part of the money, but not from your father. the day mr. manning died in his office i received a call from willis round. he said that he had taken the fifty-six hundred dollars in gold from the safe, and would divide with me if i would promise to back him up in pushing the firm to the wall. it was his idea to purchase the good will of the business at a forced sale and start in for himself. i--i consented, but our plans have failed." "through no fault of yours," said nattie, _sotto voce_. "do you agree to the conditions?" asked grant. "yes, i will do as you say," replied the disgraced merchant. "i will repay you and leave this country at once. i am content to do so. oh, ralph, my son, my son!" he tottered from the room, and that was the last the lads saw of him. on the following day a messenger brought to them in their office at yokohama a package of money containing the amount previously paid to mr. black. before the end of the week he had settled up his affairs and left japan. it was heard later that he had returned to england, where he went into retirement with the money saved from his business. it is to be hoped he sought repentance for his misdeeds. in these o'er-true tales it is a pleasure to part with some characters, but painful to bid farewell to others. a writer has his likes and dislikes, even in his own literature. it is said that the immortal dickens cried when he penned the description of little nell's death in the "old curiosity shop," and that his heart stirred with a curious anger as he chronicled the villainies of bill sykes in another story. it is probably for a similar reason that i do not like to write the words that will put an end for all time to grant and nattie and mori. we have spent many pleasant half hours together. it has been a pleasure to depict their honesty, and manliness, and truth, to watch their brave struggle against misfortune, and at last to record their final triumph. they will succeed in life--integrity and moral worth always do. they secured the famous contract, and made a legitimate profit from it. that was before the recent war between china and japan. they invested their increased capital, and are now, at the present date, on the fair road to fortune. mr. burr is the manager of their yokohama house. mori is in general charge of the business in japan, and grant and nattie are now traveling in the united states visiting their relatives and quietly keeping an eye out for the trade. sumo is established in the main office as porter and messenger. he sports a gorgeous uniform and is ever relating to the small boys of the neighborhood his memorable fight with raiko, the thug, at the foot of old bandai-san. and now, in the language of those gentle people, the japanese, i will say "_sayonara!_" the end. did you like this story? yes? then let us help you to select another. _some of street & smith's books for young people by popular authors_.... a complete list will be sent .... upon application .... street & smith's books for young people books for boys. the cream of juvenile fiction. boys' own library. a selection of the best books written by the most popular authors for boys. the titles in this splendid juvenile series have been selected with care, and as a result all the stories can be relied upon for their excellence. they are bright and sparkling, not overburdened with lengthy descriptions, but brimful of adventure from the first page to the last--in fact, they are just the kind of yarns that appeal strongly to the healthy boy who is fond of thrilling exploits and deeds of heroism. among the authors whose names are included in boys' own library are horatio alger, jr., edward s. ellis, james otis, arthur m. winfield and frank h. converse. cloth, titles. illustrated. attractive covers. price, per volume, cents. boys' own library. adventures of a telegraph boy horatio alger, jr. adventures of a young athlete matthew white, jr. arthur helmuth edward s. ellis. beach boy joe lieut. james k. orton. boats, bats and bicycles ernest a. young. bob porter at lakeview academy walter morris. bound for annapolis ensign clarke fitch, u.s.n. boy boomers gilbert patten. boy cattle king gilbert patten. boy from the west gilbert patten. boys in the forecastle george h. coomer. butcher of cawnpore william murray graydon. cadet's honor, a lieut. fred'k. garrison, u.s.a. cadet kit carey lieut. lounsberry. camp in the snow, the william murray graydon. campaigning with braddock william murray graydon. canoe and camp-fire st. george rathborne. captain carey lieut. lounsberry. centreboard jim henry 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house edward s. ellis. from port to port ensign clarke fitch, u.s.n. gay dashleigh's academy days arthur sewell. giant islanders brooks mccormick. gilbert, the trapper c. b. ashley. gold of flat top mountain frank h. converse. golden magnet george manville fenn. golden rock edward s. ellis. grand chaco george manville fenn. gulf cruisers, the st. george rathborne. guy hammersley matthew white, jr. happy-go-lucky jack frank h. converse. heir to a million frank h. converse. how he won brooks mccormick. in barracks and wigwam william murray graydon. inland waterways james otis. in search of an unknown race frank h. converse. in fort and prison william murray graydon. in southern seas frank h. converse. in the sunk lands walter f. burns. jack wheeler capt. david southwick. jud and joe gilbert patten. jungles and traitors william murray graydon. king of the island henry harrison lewis. kit carey's protégé lieut. lounsberry. land of mystery edward s. ellis. last chance mine lieut. james k. orton. lieut. carey's luck lieut. lounsberry. little snap, the postboy victor st. clair. mark dale's stage venture arthur m. winfield. mark stanton horatio alger, jr. midshipman merrill henry harrison lewis. my mysterious fortune matthew white, jr. mystery of a diamond frank h. converse. nature's young noblemen brooks mccormick. ned newton horatio alger, jr. neka, the boy conjuror captain ralph bonehill. new york boy horatio alger, jr. off for west point lieut. fred'k. garrison, u.s.a. old man of the mountain george h. coomer. on the trail of geronimo edward s. ellis. on guard lieut. fred'k. garrison, u.s.a. paddling under palmettos st. george rathborne. perils of the jungle edward s. ellis. phil, the showman stanley norris. pirate island harry collingwood. randy, the pilot lieut. lounsberry. rajah's fortress william murray graydon. reuben green's adventures at yale james otis. rival battalions brooks mccormick. rival canoe boys st. george rathborne. secret chart, the lieut. james. k. orton. shifting winds st. george rathborne. smuggler's cave, the annie ashmore. spectre gold headon hill. strange cruise, a ensign clarke fitch, u.s.n. sword and pen henry harrison lewis. that treasure frank h. converse. tiger prince william dalton. tom brace horatio alger, jr. tom tracy horatio alger, jr. tom havens with the white squadron lieut. james k. orton. tour of a private car matthew white, jr. tom truxton's ocean trip lieut. lounsberry. tom truxton's school days lieut. lounsberry. tour of the zero club capt. ralph bonehill. treasure of the golden crater, the lieut. lounsberry. unprovoked mutiny james otis. valley of mystery, the henry harrison lewis. voyage to the gold coast frank h. converse. walter griffith horatio alger, jr. war tiger william dalton. west point treasure, a lieut. fred'k. garrison, u.s.a. west point rivals, the lieut. fred'k. garrison, u.s.a. weathercock george manville fenn. wheeling for fortune james otis. white elephant william dalton. white king of africa william murray graydon. white mustang edward s. ellis. with boer and britisher william murray graydon. won at west point lieut. lounsberry. yankee boys in japan henry harrison lewis. young acrobat horatio alger, jr. young actor, the gayle winterton. young bank clerk, the arthur m. winfield. young editor matthew white, jr. young showman's rivals, the stanley norris. young showman's pluck, the stanley norris. young showman's triumph, the stanley norris. young bridge tender, the arthur m. winfield. zig zag, the boy conjuror victor st. clair. zip, the acrobat victor st. clair. boys' popular library titles a new series of handsome mos, well printed and well bound, stamped in colors, containing the most popular stories by oliver optic, george a. henty, capt. mayne reid, gordon stables, w. h. g. kingston, horatio alger, jr. and other authors equally well known. there has long been a demand for a low-priced series of first-class books for young people, and we believe that we have here just what the boys want. price, fifty cents per volume. boys' popular library. all aboard oliver optic. battle and a boy, a blanche willis howard. boat club, the oliver optic. boy crusoes jefferys taylor. boy tar, the captain mayne reid. brave and bold horatio alger, jr. by england's aid g. a. henty. by pike and dyke g. a. henty. by right of conquest g. a. henty. captain bayley's heir g. a. henty. catmur's cave richard dowling. cliff climber, the captain mayne reid. cruise of the snow bird, the gordon stables. dick cheveley w. h. g. kingston. for the temple g. a. henty. from powder monkey to admiral w. h. g. kingston. hendricks, the hunter w. h. g. kingston. in the wilds of new mexico george manville fenn. in freedom's cause g. a. henty. in times of peril g. a. henty. james braithwaite w. h. g. kingston. jerry walter aimwell. joe nichols alfred oldfellow. little by little oliver optic. life at sea gordon stables. lion of st. mark, the g. a. henty. lion of the north, the g. a. henty. lone ranch, the capt. mayne reid. mark seaworth's voyage on the indian ocean w. h. g. kingston. midshipman marmaduke merry w. h. g. kingston. now or never oliver optic. paul, the peddler horatio alger, jr. phil, the fiddler horatio alger, jr. peter trawl w. h. g. kingston. peter, the whaler w. h. g. kingston. ran away to sea capt. mayne reid. robinson crusoe daniel defoe. shore and ocean w. h. g. kingston. silver ship, the leon lewis. slow and sure horatio alger, jr. strive and succeed horatio alger, jr. strong and steady horatio alger, jr. swiss family robinson montelieu & wyse. three years at wolverton a wolvertonian. try again oliver optic. try and trust horatio alger, jr. under drake's flag g. a. henty. uncle nat alfred oldfellow. way to success alfred oldfellow. whistler walter aimwell. wild adventures 'round the pole gordon stables. with lee in virginia g. a. henty. with wolfe in canada g. a. henty. young carthaginian, the g. a. henty. young vagabond, a z. r. bennett. young explorer, the gordon stables. the rockspur athletic series by gilbert patten. consists of three books, each being a good, clean story of athletic training, sports and contests, such as interest every healthy, growing boy of to-day. while aiming to avoid the extravagant and sensational, the stories contain enough thrilling incidents to please the lad who loves action and adventure. the description of their baseball and football games and other contests with rival clubs and teams make very exciting and absorbing reading; and few boys with warm blood in their veins, having once begun the perusal of one of these books, will willingly lay it down till it is finished. --the rockspur nine. a story of baseball. --the rockspur eleven. a story of football. --the rockspur rivals. a story of winter sports. each volume contains about pages, mo in size, cloth binding, per volume, $ . for sale by all booksellers, or sent, postpaid, on receipt of price by the publishers. street & smith, william st., new york city. proofreading team. [illustration: exchanging the grip of the third degree] old gorgon graham more letters from a self-made merchant to his son _by_ george horace lorimer _with pictures by f.r. gruger and martin justice_ from a son to his father contents i. from john graham, head of the house of graham & company, pork packers, in chicago, familiarly known on 'change as old gorgon graham, to his son, pierrepont, at the union stock yards. _the old man is laid up temporarily for repairs, and pierrepont has written asking if his father doesn't feel that he is qualified now to relieve him of some of the burden of active management_ ii. from john graham, at the schweitzerkasenhof, carlsbad, to his son, pierrepont, at the union stock yards, chicago. _the head of the lard department has died suddenly, and pierrepont has suggested to the old man that there is a silver lining to that cloud of sorrow_ iii. from john graham, at the schweitzerkasenhof, carlsbad, to his son, pierrepont, at the union stock yards, chicago. _a friend of the young man has just presented a letter of introduction to the old man, and has exchanged a large bunch of stories for a small roll of bills_ iv. from john graham, at the hotel cecil, london, to his son, pierrepont, at the union stock yards, chicago. _the old man has just finished going through the young man's first report as manager of the lard department, and he finds it suspiciously good_ v. from john graham, at the waldorf-astoria, new york, to his son, pierrepont, at the union stock yards, chicago. _the young man has hinted vaguely of a quarrel between himself and helen heath, who is in new york with her mother, and has suggested that the old man act as peacemaker_ vi. from john graham, at the waldorf-astoria, new york, to his son, pierrepont, at the union stock yards, chicago. _the young man has written describing the magnificent wedding presents that are being received, and hinting discreetly that it would not come amiss if he knew what shape the old man's was going to take, as he needs the money_ vii. from john graham, at the union stock yards, chicago, to his son, pierrepont, at yemassee-on-the-tallahassee. _the young man is now in the third quarter of the honeymoon, and the old man has decided that it is time to bring him fluttering down to earth_ viii. from john graham, at the union stock yards, chicago, to his son, pierrepont, at yemassee-on-the-tallahassee. _in replying to his father's hint that it is time to turn his thoughts from love to lard, the young man has quoted a french sentence, and the old man has been both pained and puzzled by it_ ix. from john graham, at the union stock yards, chicago, to his son, pierrepont, care of graham & company's brokers, atlanta. _following the old man's suggestion, the young man has rounded out the honeymoon into a harvest moon, and is sending in some very satisfactory orders to the house_ x. from john graham, at mount clematis, michigan, to his son, pierrepont, at the union stock yards, chicago. _the young man has done famously during the first year of his married life, and the old man has decided to give him a more important position_ xi. from john graham, at mount clematis, michigan, to his son, pierrepont, at the union stock yards, chicago. _the young man has sent the old man a dose of his own medicine, advice, and he is proving himself a good doctor by taking it_ xii. from john graham, at magnolia villa, on the florida coast, to his son, pierrepont, at the union stock yards, chicago. _the old man has started back to nature, but he hasn't gone quite far enough to lose sight of his business altogether_ xiii. from john graham, at the union stock yards, chicago, to his son, pierrepont, care of graham & company, denver. _the young man has been offered a large interest in a big thing at a small price, and he has written asking the old man to lend him the price_ xiv. from john graham, at the omaha branch of graham & company, to his son, pierrepont, at the union stock yards, chicago. _the old man has been advised by wire of the arrival of a prospective partner, and that the mother, the son, and the business are all doing well_ no. from john graham, head of the house of graham & company, pork packers, in chicago, familiarly known on 'change as old gorgon graham, to his son, pierrepont, at the union stock yards. the old man is laid up temporarily for repairs, and pierrepont has written asking if his father doesn't feel that he is qualified now to relieve him of some of the burden of active management. i carlsbad, october , -. _dear pierrepont_: i'm sorry you ask so many questions that you haven't a right to ask, because you put yourself in the position of the inquisitive bull-pup who started out to smell the third rail on the trolley right-of-way--you're going to be full of information in a minute. in the first place, it looks as if business might be pretty good this fall, and i'm afraid you'll have your hands so full in your place as assistant manager of the lard department that you won't have time to run my job, too. then i don't propose to break any quick-promotion records with you, just because you happened to be born into a job with the house. a fond father and a fool son hitch up into a bad team, and a good business makes a poor family carryall. out of business hours i like you better than any one at the office, but in them there are about twenty men ahead of you in my affections. the way for you to get first place is by racing fair and square, and not by using your old daddy as a spring-board from which to jump over their heads. a man's son is entitled to a chance in his business, but not to a cinch. it's been my experience that when an office begins to look like a family tree, you'll find worms tucked away snug and cheerful in most of the apples. a fellow with an office full of relatives is like a sow with a litter of pigs--apt to get a little thin and peaked as the others fat up. a receiver is next of kin to a business man's relatives, and after they are all nicely settled in the office they're not long in finding a job for him there, too. i want you to get this firmly fixed in your mind, because while you haven't many relatives to hire, if you ever get to be the head of the house, you'll no doubt marry a few with your wife. for every man that the lord makes smart enough to help himself, he makes two who have to be helped. when your two come to you for jobs, pay them good salaries to keep out of the office. blood is thicker than water, i know, but when it's the blood of your wife's second cousin out of a job, it's apt to be thicker than molasses--and stickier than glue when it touches a good thing. after you have found ninety-nine sound reasons for hiring a man, it's all right to let his relationship to you be the hundredth. it'll be the only bad reason in the bunch. i simply mention this in passing, because, as i have said, you ain't likely to be hiring men for a little while yet. but so long as the subject is up, i might as well add that when i retire it will be to the cemetery. and i should advise you to anchor me there with a pretty heavy monument, because it wouldn't take more than two such statements of manufacturing cost as i have just received from your department to bring me back from the graveyard to the stock yards on the jump. and until i do retire you don't want to play too far from first base. the man at the bat will always strike himself out quick enough if he has forgotten how to find the pitcher's curves, so you needn't worry about that. but you want to be ready all the time in case he should bat a few hot ones in your direction. some men are like oak leaves--they don't know when they're dead, but still hang right on; and there are others who let go before anything has really touched them. of course, i may be in the first class, but you can be dead sure that i don't propose to get into the second, even though i know a lot of people say i'm an old hog to keep right along working after i've made more money than i know how to spend, and more than i could spend if i knew how. it's a mighty curious thing how many people think that if a man isn't spending his money their way he isn't spending it right, and that if he isn't enjoying himself according to their tastes he can't be having a good time. they believe that money ought to loaf; i believe that it ought to work. they believe that money ought to go to the races and drink champagne; i believe that it ought to go to the office and keep sober. when a man makes a specialty of knowing how some other fellow ought to spend his money, he usually thinks in millions and works for hundreds. there's only one poorer hand at figures than these over-the-left financiers, and he's the fellow who inherits the old man's dollars without his sense. when a fortune comes without calling, it's apt to leave without asking. inheriting money is like being the second husband of a chicago grass-widow--mighty uncertain business, unless a fellow has had a heap of experience. there's no use explaining when i'm asked why i keep on working, because fellows who could put that question wouldn't understand the answer. you could take these men and soak their heads overnight in a pailful of ideas, and they wouldn't absorb anything but the few loose cuss-words that you'd mixed in for flavoring. they think that the old boys have corralled all the chances and have tied up the youngsters where they can't get at them; when the truth is that if we all simply quit work and left them the whole range to graze over, they'd bray to have their fodder brought to them in bales, instead of starting out to hunt the raw material, as we had to. when an ass gets the run of the pasture he finds thistles. i don't mind owning up to you, though, that i don't hang on because i'm indispensable to the business, but because business is indispensable to me. i don't take much stock in this indispensable man idea, anyway. i've never had one working for me, and if i had i'd fire him, because a fellow who's as smart as that ought to be in business for himself; and if he doesn't get a chance to start a new one, he's just naturally going to eat up yours. any man can feel reasonably well satisfied if he's sure that there's going to be a hole to look at when he's pulled up by the roots. i started business in a shanty, and i've expanded it into half a mile of factories; i began with ten men working for me, and i'll quit with , ; i found the american hog in a mud-puddle, without a beauty spot on him except the curl in his tail, and i'm leaving him nicely packed in fancy cans and cases, with gold medals hung all over him. but after i've gone some other fellow will come along and add a post-graduate course in pork packing, and make what i've done look like a country school just after the teacher's been licked. and i want you to be that fellow. for the present, i shall report at the office as usual, because i don't know any other place where i can get ten hours' fun a day, year in and year out. after forty years of close acquaintance with it, i've found that work is kind to its friends and harsh to its enemies. it pays the fellow who dislikes it his exact wages, and they're generally pretty small; but it gives the man who shines up to it all the money he wants and throws in a heap of fun and satisfaction for good measure. a broad-gauged merchant is a good deal like our friend doc graver, who'd cut out the washerwoman's appendix for five dollars, but would charge a thousand for showing me mine--he wants all the money that's coming to him, but he really doesn't give a cuss how much it is, just so he gets the appendix. i've never taken any special stock in this modern theory that no fellow over forty should be given a job, or no man over sixty allowed to keep one. of course, there's a dead-line in business, just as there is in preaching, and fifty's a good, convenient age at which to draw it; but it's been my experience that there are a lot of dead ones on both sides of it. when a man starts out to be a fool, and keeps on working steady at his trade, he usually isn't going to be any solomon at sixty. but just because you see a lot of bald-headed sinners lined up in the front row at the show, you don't want to get humorous with every bald-headed man you meet, because the first one you tackle may be a deacon. and because a fellow has failed once or twice, or a dozen times, you don't want to set him down as a failure--unless he takes failing too easy. no man's a failure till he's dead or loses his courage, and that's the same thing. sometimes a fellow that's been batted all over the ring for nineteen rounds lands on the solar plexus of the proposition he's tackling in the twentieth. but you can have a regiment of good business qualities, and still fail without courage, because he's the colonel, and he won't stand for any weakening at a critical time. i learned a long while ago not to measure men with a foot-rule, and not to hire them because they were young or old, or pretty or homely, though there are certain general rules you want to keep in mind. if you were spending a million a year without making money, and you hired a young man, he'd be apt to turn in and double your expenses to make the business show a profit, and he'd be a mighty good man; but if you hired an old man, he'd probably cut your expenses to the bone and show up the money saved on the profit side; and he'd be a mighty good man, too. i hire both and then set the young man to spending and the old man to watching expenses. of course, the chances are that a man who hasn't got a good start at forty hasn't got it in him, but you can't run a business on the law of averages and have more than an average business. once an old fellow who's just missed everything he's sprung at gets his hooks in, he's a tiger to stay by the meat course. and i've picked up two or three of these old man-eaters in my time who are drawing pretty large salaries with the house right now. whenever i hear any of this talk about carting off old fellows to the glue factory, i always think of doc hoover and the time they tried the "dead-line-at-fifty" racket on him, though he was something over eighty when it happened. after i left missouri, doc stayed right along, year after year, in the old town, handing out hell to the sinners in public, on sundays, and distributing corn-meal and side-meat to them on the quiet, week-days. he was a boss shepherd, you bet, and he didn't stand for any church rows or such like nonsense among his sheep. when one of them got into trouble the doc was always on hand with his crook to pull him out, but let an old ram try to start any stampede-and-follow-the-leader-over-the-precipice foolishness, and he got the sharp end of the stick. there was one old billy-goat in the church, a grocer named deacon wiggleford, who didn't really like the elder's way of preaching. wanted him to soak the amalekites in his sermons, and to leave the grocery business alone. would holler amen! when the parson got after the money-changers in the temple, but would shut up and look sour when he took a crack at the short-weight prune-sellers of the nineteenth century. said he "went to church to hear the simple gospel preached," and that may have been one of the reasons, but he didn't want it applied, because there wasn't any place where the doc could lay it on without cutting him on the raw. the real trouble with the deacon was that he'd never really got grace, but only a pretty fair imitation. well, one time after the deacon got back from his fall trip north to buy goods, he tried to worry the doc by telling him that all the ministers in chicago were preaching that there wasn't any super-heated hereafter, but that each man lived through his share of hell right here on earth. doc's face fell at first, but he cheered up mightily after nosing it over for a moment, and allowed it might be so; in fact, that he was sure it was so, as far as those fellows were concerned--they lived in chicago. and next sunday he preached hell so hot that the audience fairly sweat. he wound up his sermon by deploring the tendency to atheism which he had noticed "among those merchants who had recently gone up with the caravans to babylon for spices" (this was just his high-toned way of describing deacon wiggleford's trip to chicago in a day-coach for groceries), and hoped that the goods which they had brought back were better than the theology. of course, the old folks on the mourners' bench looked around to see how the deacon was taking it, and the youngsters back on the gigglers' bench tittered, and everybody was happy but the deacon. he began laying for the doc right there. and without meaning to, it seems that i helped his little game along. doc hoover used to write me every now and then, allowing that hams were scarcer in missouri and more plentiful in my packing-house than they had any right to be, if the balance of trade was to be maintained. said he had the demand and i had the supply, and he wanted to know what i was going to do about it. i always shipped back a tierce by fast freight, because i was afraid that if i tried to argue the point he'd come himself and take a car-load. he made a specialty of seeing that every one in town had enough food and enough religion, and he wasn't to be trifled with when he discovered a shortage of either. a mighty good salesman was lost when doc got religion. well, one day something more than ten years ago he wrote in, threatening to make the usual raid on my smoke-house, and when i answered, advising him that the goods were shipped, i inclosed a little check and told him to spend it on a trip to the holy land which i'd seen advertised. he backed and filled over going at first, but finally the church took it out of his hands and arranged for a young fellow not long out of the theological seminary to fill the pulpit, and doc put a couple of extra shirts in a grip and started off. i heard the rest of the story from si perkins next fall, when he brought on a couple of car-loads of steers to chicago, and tried to stick me half a cent more than the market for them on the strength of our having come from the same town. it seems that the young man who took doc's place was one of these fellows with pink tea instead of red blood in his veins. hadn't any opinions except your opinions until he met some one else. preached pretty, fluffy little things, and used eau de cologne on his language. never hit any nearer home than the unspeakable turk, and then he was scared to death till he found out that the dark-skinned fellow under the gallery was an armenian. (the armenian left the church anyway, because the unspeakable turk hadn't been soaked hard enough to suit him.) didn't preach much from the bible, but talked on the cussedness of robert elsmere and the low-downness of trilby. was always wanting everybody to lead the higher life, without ever really letting on what it was, or at least so any one could lay hold of it by the tail. in the end, i reckon he'd have worked around to hoyle's games--just to call attention to their wickedness, of course. the pillars of the church, who'd been used to getting their religion raw from doc hoover, didn't take to the bottle kindly, and they all fell away except deacon wiggleford. he and the youngsters seemed to cotton to the new man, and just before doc hoover was due to get back they called a special meeting, and retired the old man with the title of pastor emeritus. they voted him two donation parties a year as long as he lived, and elected the higher lifer as the permanent pastor of the church. deacon wiggleford suggested the pastor emeritus extra. he didn't quite know what it meant, but he'd heard it in chicago, and it sounded pretty good, and as if it ought to be a heap of satisfaction to a fellow who was being fired. besides, it didn't cost anything, and the deacon was one of those christians who think that you ought to be able to save a man's immortal soul for two bits. the pillars were mighty hot next day when they heard what had happened, and were for calling another special meeting; but two or three of them got together and decided that it was best to lay low and avoid a row until the doc got back. he struck town the next week with a jugful of water from the river jordan in one hand and a gripful of paper-weights made of wood from the mount of olives in the other. he was chockful of the joy of having been away and of the happiness of getting back, till they told him about the deacon's goings on, and then he went sort of gray and old, and sat for a minute all humped up. si perkins, who was one of the unregenerate, but a mighty good friend of the doc's, was standing by, and he blurted right out: "you say the word, doc, and we'll make the young people's society ride this rooster out of town on a rail." that seemed to wake up the elder a bit, for he shook his head and said, "no nonsense now, you si"; and then, as he thought it over, he began to bristle and swell up; and when he stood it was to his full six feet four, and it was all man. you could see that he was boss of himself again, and when a man like old doc hoover is boss of himself he comes pretty near being boss of every one around him. he sent word to the higher lifer by one of the pillars that he reckoned he was counting on him to preach a farewell sermon the next sunday, and the young man, who'd been keeping in the background till whatever was going to drop, dropped, came around to welcome him in person. but while the doc had been doing a heap of praying for grace, he didn't propose to take any chances, and he didn't see him. and he wouldn't talk to any one else, just smiled in an aggravating way, though everybody except deacon wiggleford and the few youngsters who'd made the trouble called to remonstrate against his paying any attention to their foolishness. the whole town turned out the next sunday to see the doc step down. he sat beside the higher lifer on the platform, and behind them were the six deacons. when it came time to begin the services the higher lifer started to get up, but the doc was already on his feet, and he whispered to him: "set down, young man"; and the young man sat. the doc had a way of talking that didn't need a gun to back it up. the old man conducted the services right through, just as he always did, except that when he'd remembered in his prayer every one in america and had worked around through europe to asia minor, he lingered a trifle longer over the turks than usual, and the list of things which he seemed to think they needed brought the armenian back into the fold right then and there. [illustration: "we'll make the young people's society ride this rooster out of town on a rail"] by the time the doc got around to preaching, deacon wiggleford was looking like a fellow who'd bought a gold brick, and the higher lifer like the brick. everybody else felt and looked as if they were attending the doc's funeral, and, as usual, the only really calm and composed member of the party was the corpse. "you will find the words of my text," doc began, "in the revised version of the works of william shakespeare, in the book--i mean play--of romeo and juliet, act two, scene two: 'parting is such sweet sorrow that i shall say good-night till it be morrow,'" and while the audience was pulling itself together he laid out that text in four heads, each with six subheads. began on partings, and went on a still hunt through history and religion for them. made the audience part with julius caesar with regret, and had 'em sniffling at saying good-by to napoleon and jeff davis. made 'em feel that they'd lost their friends and their money, and then foreclosed the mortgage on the old homestead in a this-is-very-sad-but-i-need-the-money tone. in fact, when he had finished with parting and was ready to begin on sweet sorrow, he had not only exhausted the subject, but left considerable of a deficit in it. they say that the hour he spent on sweet sorrow laid over anything that the town had ever seen for sadness. put 'em through every stage of grief from the snuffles to the snorts. doc always was a pretty noisy preacher, but he began work on that head with soft-pedal-tremolo-stop preaching and wound up with a peroration like a steamboat explosion. started with his illustrations dying of consumption and other peaceful diseases, and finished up with railroad wrecks. he'd been at it two hours when he got through burying the victims of his last illustration, and he was just ready to tackle his third head with six subheads. but before he took the plunge he looked at his watch and glanced up sort of surprised: "i find," he said, "that we have consumed more time with these introductory remarks than i had intended. we would all, i know, like to say good-by till to-morrow, did our dear young brother's plans permit, but alas! he leaves us on the : . such is life; to-day we are here, to-morrow we are in st. louis, to which our young friend must return. usually, i don't approve of traveling on the sabbath, but in a case like this, where the reasons are very pressing, i will lay aside my scruples, and with a committee of deacons which i have appointed see our pastor emeritus safely off." the doc then announced that he would preach a series of six sunday night sermons on the six best-selling books of the month, and pronounced the benediction while the higher lifer and deacon wiggleford were trying to get the floor. but the committee of deacons had 'em by the coat-tails, and after listening to their soothing arguments the higher lifer decided to take the : as per schedule. when he saw the whole congregation crowding round the doc, and the women crying over him and wanting to take him home to dinner, he understood that there'd been a mistake somewhere and that he was the mistake. of course the doc never really preached on the six best-selling books. that was the first and last time he ever found a text in anything but the bible. si perkins wanted to have deacon wiggleford before the church on charges. said he'd been told that this pastor emeritus business was latin, and it smelt of popery to him; but the doc wouldn't stand for any foolishness. allowed that the special meeting was illegal, and that settled it; and he reckoned they could leave the deacon's case to the lord. but just the same, the small boys used to worry wiggleford considerably by going into his store and yelling: "mother says she doesn't want any more of those pastor emeritus eggs," or, "she'll send it back if you give us any more of that dead-line butter." if the doc had laid down that sunday, there'd probably have been a whole lot of talk and tears over his leaving, but in the end, the higher lifer or some other fellow would have had his job, and he'd have become one of those nice old men for whom every one has a lot of respect but no special use. but he kept right on, owning his pulpit and preaching in it, until the great call was extended to him. i'm a good deal like the doc--willing to preach a farewell sermon whenever it seems really necessary, but some other fellow's. your affectionate father, john graham. no. from john graham, at the schweitzerkasenhof, carlsbad, to his son, pierrepont, at the union stock yards, chicago. the head of the lard department has died suddenly, and pierrepont has suggested to the old man that there is a silver lining to that cloud of sorrow. ii carlsbad, october , -. _dear pierrepont_: i've cabled the house that you will manage the lard department, or try to, until i get back; but beyond that i can't see. four weeks doesn't give you much time to prove that you are the best man in the shop for the place, but it gives you enough to prove that you ain't. you've got plenty of rope. if you know how to use it you can throw your steer and brand it; if you don't, i suppose i won't find much more than a grease-spot where the lard department was, when i get back to the office. i'm hopeful, but i'm a good deal like the old deacon back in missouri who thought that games of chance were sinful, and so only bet on sure things--and i'm not betting. naturally, when a young fellow steps up into a big position, it breeds jealousy among those whom he's left behind and uneasiness among those to whom he's pulled himself up. between them he's likely to be subjected to a lot of petty annoyances. but he's in the fix of a dog with fleas who's chasing a rabbit--if he stops to snap at the tickling on his tail, he's going to lose his game dinner. even as temporary head of the lard department you're something of a pup, and where there's dog there's fleas. you've simply got to get used to them, and have sense enough to know that they're not eating you up when they're only nibbling a little at your hide. and you don't want to let any one see that a flea-bite can worry you, either. a pup that's squirming and wriggling and nosing around the seat of the trouble whenever one of his little friends gets busy, is kicked out into the cold, sad night in the end. but a wise dog lies before the fire with a droop in his ear and a dreamy look in his eyes until it gets to the point where he can't stand 'em any longer. then he sneaks off under the dining-room table and rolls them out into the carpet. there are two breeds of little things in business--those that you can't afford to miss and those that you can't afford to notice. the first are the details of your own work and those of the men under you. the second are the little tricks and traps that the envious set around you. a trick is always so low that a high-stepper can walk right over it. when a fellow comes from the outside to an important position with a house he generally gets a breathing-space while the old men spar around taking his measure and seeing if he sizes up to his job. they give him the benefit of the doubt, and if he shows up strong and shifty on his feet they're apt to let him alone. but there isn't any doubt in your case; everybody's got you sized up, or thinks he has, and those who've been over you will find it hard to accept you as an equal, and those who've been your equals will be slow to regard you as a superior. when you've been bill to a man, it comes awkward for him to call you mister. he may do it to your face, but you're always bill again when you've turned the corner. of course, everybody's going to say you're an accident. prove it. show that you're a regular head-on collision when anything gets in your way. they're going to say that you've got a pull. prove it--by taking up all the slack that they give you. back away from controversy, but stand up stubborn as a mule to the fellow who's hunting trouble. i believe in ruling by love, all right, but it's been my experience that there are a lot of people in the world whom you've got to make understand that you're ready to heave a brick if they don't come when you call them. these men mistake kindness for weakness and courtesy for cowardice. of course, it's the exception when a fellow of this breed can really hurt you, but the exception is the thing that you always want to keep your eye skinned for in business. when it's good growing weather and the average of the crop is ninety-five, you should remember that old satan may be down in arizona cooking up a sizzler for the cornbelt; or that off cuba-ways, where things get excited easy, something special in the line of tornadoes may be ghost-dancing and making ready to come north to bust you into bits, if it catches you too far away from the cyclone cellar. when a boy's face shines with soap, look behind his ears. up to this point you've been seeing business from the seat of the man who takes orders; now you're going to find out what sort of a snap the fellow who gives them has. you're not even exchanging one set of worries for another, because a good boss has to carry all his own and to share those of his men. he must see without spying; he must hear without sneaking; he must know without asking. it takes a pretty good guesser to be a boss. the first banana-skin which a lot of fellows step on when they're put over other men is a desire to be too popular. of course, it's a nice thing to have everyone stand up and cheer when your name is mentioned, but it's mighty seldom that that happens to any one till he's dead. you can buy a certain sort of popularity anywhere with soft soap and favors; but you can't buy respect with anything but justice, and that's the only popularity worth having. you'll find that this world is so small, and that most men in it think they're so big, that you can't step out in any direction without treading on somebody's corns, but unless you keep moving, the fellow who's in a hurry to get somewhere is going to fetch up on your bunion. some men are going to dislike you because you're smooth, and others because you have a brutal way of telling the truth. you're going to repel some because they think you're cold, and others will cross the street when they see you coming because they think you slop over. one fellow won't like you because you're got curly hair, and another will size you up as a stiff because you're bald. whatever line of conduct you adopt you're bound to make some enemies, but so long as there's a choice i want you to make yours by being straightforward and just. you'll have the satisfaction of knowing that every enemy you make by doing the square thing is a rascal at heart. don't fear too much the enemy you make by saying no, nor trust too much the friend you make by saying yes. speaking of being popular naturally calls to mind the case of a fellow from the north named binder, who moved to our town when i was a boy, and allowed that he was going into the undertaking business. absalom magoffin, who had had all the post-mortem trade of the town for forty years, was a queer old cuss, and he had some mighty aggravating ways. never wanted to talk anything but business. would buttonhole you on the street, and allow that, while he wasn't a doctor, he had had to cover up a good many of the doctor's mistakes in his time, and he didn't just like your symptoms. said your looks reminded him of bill shorter, who' went off sudden in the fifties, and was buried by the masons with a brass band. asked if you remembered bill, and that peculiar pasty look about his skin. naturally, this sort of thing didn't make ab any too popular, and so binder got a pretty warm welcome when he struck town. he started right out by saying that he didn't see any good reason why an undertaker should act as if he was the next of kin. was always stopping people on the streets to tell them the latest, and yelling out the point in a horse-laugh. everybody allowed that jolly old binder had the right idea; and that magoffin might as well shut up shop. every one in town wanted to see him officiate at a funeral, and there was a lot of talk about encouraging new enterprises, but it didn't come to anything. no one appeared to have any public spirit. seemed as if we'd never had a healthier spring than that one. couldn't fetch a nigger, even. the most unpopular man in town, miser dosher, came down with pneumonia in december, and every one went around saying how sad it was that there was no hope, and watching for binder to start for the house. but in the end dosher rallied and "went back on the town," as si perkins put it. then the hoskins-bustard crowds took a crack at each other one court day, but it was mighty poor shooting. ham hoskins did get a few buckshot in his leg, and that had to come off, but there were no complications. by this time binder, though he still laughed and cracked his jokes, was beginning to get sort of discouraged. but si perkins used to go round and cheer him up by telling him that it was bound to come his way in the end, and that when it did come it would come with a rush. then, all of a sudden, something happened--yellow jack dropped in from down new orleans way, and half the people in town had it inside a week and the other half were so blamed scared that they thought they had it. but through it all binder never once lost his merry, cheery ways. luckily it was a mild attack and everybody got well; but it made it mighty easy for doc hoover to bring sinners tinder conviction for a year to come. when it was all over binder didn't have a friend in town. leaked out little by little that as soon as one of the men who'd been cheering for jolly old binder got yellow jack, the first thing he did was to make his wife swear that she'd have magoffin do the planting. you see, that while a man may think it's all foolishness for an undertaker to go around solemn and sniffling, he'll be a little slow about hiring a fellow to officiate at his funeral who's apt to take a sense of humor to it. si perkins was the last one to get well, and the first time he was able to walk as far as the store he made a little speech. wanted to know if we were going to let a connecticut yankee trifle with our holiest emotions. thought he ought to be given a chance to crack his blanked new england jokes in hades. allowed that the big locust in front of binder's store made an ideal spot for a jolly little funeral. of course si wasn't exactly consistent in this, but, as he used to say, it's the consistent men who keep the devil busy, because no one's ever really consistent except in his cussedness. it's been my experience that consistency is simply a steel hoop around a small mind--it keeps it from expanding. well, si hadn't more than finished before the whole crowd was off whooping down the street toward binder's. as soon as they got in range of the house they began shooting at the windows and yelling for him to come out if he was a man, but it appeared that binder wasn't a man--leastways, he didn't come out--and investigation showed that he was streaking it back for connecticut. i simply mention this little incident as an example of the fact that popularity is a mighty uncertain critter and a mighty unsafe one to hitch your wagon to. it'll eat all the oats you bring it, and then kick you as you're going out of the stall. it's happened pretty often in my time that i've seen a crowd pelt a man with mud, go away, and, returning a few months or a few years later, and finding him still in the same place, throw bouquets at him. but that, mark you, was because first and last he was standing in the right place. it's been my experience that there are more cases of hate at first sight than of love at first sight, and that neither of them is of any special consequence. you tend strictly to your job of treating your men square, without slopping over, and when you get into trouble there'll be a little bunch to line up around you with their horns down to keep the wolves from cutting you out of the herd. your affectionate father, john graham. no. from john graham, at the schweitzerkasenhof, carlsbad, to his son, pierrepont, at the union stock yards, chicago. a friend of the young man has just presented a letter of introduction to the old man, and has exchanged a large bunch of stories for a small roll of bills. iii carlsbad, october , -. _dear pierrepont_: yesterday your old college friend, clarence, blew in from monte carlo, where he had been spending a few days in the interests of science, and presented your letter of introduction. said he still couldn't understand just how it happened, because he had figured it out by logarithms and trigonometry and differential calculus and a lot of other high-priced studies that he'd taken away from harvard, and that it was a cinch on paper. was so sure that he could have proved his theory right if he'd only had a little more money that it hardly seemed worth while to tell him that the only thing he could really prove with his system was old professor darwin's theory that men and monkeys began life in the same cage. it never struck me before, but i'll bet the professor got that idea while he was talking with some of his students. personally, i don't know a great deal about gambling, because all i ever spent for information on the subject was $ . --my fool horse broke in the stretch--and that was forty years ago; but first and last i've heard a lot of men explain how it happened that they hadn't made a hog-killing. of course, there must be a winning end to gambling, but all that these men have been able to tell about is the losing end. and i gather from their experiences that when a fellow does a little gambling on the side, it's usually on the wrong side. the fact of the matter is, that the race-horse, the faro tiger, and the poker kitty have bigger appetites than any healthy critter has a right to have; and after you've fed a tapeworm, there's mighty little left for you. following the horses may be pleasant exercise at the start, but they're apt to lead you to the door of the poorhouse or the jail at the finish. to get back to clarence; he took about an hour to dock his cargo of hard luck, and another to tell me how strange it was that there was no draft from his london bankers waiting to welcome him. naturally, i haven't lived for sixty years among a lot of fellows who've been trying to drive a cold-chisel between me and my bank account, without being able to smell a touch coming a long time before it overtakes me, and clarence's intentions permeated his cheery conversation about as thoroughly as a fertilizer factory does a warm summer night. of course, he gave me every opportunity to prove that i was a gentleman and to suggest delicately that i should be glad if he would let me act as his banker in this sudden emergency, but as i didn't show any signs of being a gentleman and a banker, he was finally forced to come out and ask me in coarse commercial words to lend him a hundred. said it hurt him to have to do it on such short acquaintance, but i couldn't see that he was suffering any real pain. frankly, i shouldn't have lent clarence a dollar on his looks or his story, for they both struck me as doubtful collateral, but so long as he had a letter from you, asking me to "do anything in my power to oblige him, or to make his stay in carlsbad pleasant," i let him have the money on your account, to which i have written the cashier to charge it. of course, i hope clarence will pay you back, but i think you will save bookkeeping by charging it off to experience. i've usually found that these quick, glad borrowers are slow, sad payers. and when a fellow tells you that it hurts him to have to borrow, you can bet that the thought of having to pay is going to tie him up into a bow-knot of pain. right here i want to caution you against giving away your signature to every clarence and willie that happens along. when your name is on a note it stands only for money, but when it's on a letter of introduction or recommendation it stands for your judgment of ability and character, and you can't call it in at the end of thirty days, either. giving a letter of introduction is simply lending your name with a man as collateral, and if he's no good you can't have the satisfaction of redeeming your indorsement, even; and you're discredited. the first thing that a young merchant must learn is that his brand must never appear on a note, or a ham, or a man that isn't good. i reckon that the devil invented the habit of indorsing notes and giving letters to catch the fellows he couldn't reach with whisky and gambling. of course, letters of introduction have their proper use, but about nine out of ten of them are simply a license to some clarence to waste an hour of your time and to graft on you for the luncheon and cigars. it's getting so that a fellow who's almost a stranger to me doesn't think anything of asking for a letter of introduction to one who's a total stranger. you can't explain to these men, because when you try to let them down easy by telling them that you haven't had any real opportunity to know what their special abilities are, they always come back with an, "oh! that's all right--just say a word and refer to anything you like about me." i give them the letter then, unsealed, and though, of course, they're not supposed to read it, i have reason to think that they do, because i've never heard of one of those letters being presented. i use the same form on all of them, and after they've pumped their thanks into me and rushed around the corner, they find in the envelope: "this will introduce mr. gallister. while i haven't had the pleasure of any extended acquaintance with mr. gallister, i like his nerve." it's a mighty curious thing, but a lot of men who have no claim on you, and who wouldn't think of asking for money, will panhandle both sides of a street for favors that mean more than money. of course, it's the easy thing and the pleasant thing not to refuse, and after all, most men think, it doesn't cost anything but a few strokes of the pen, and so they will give a fellow that they wouldn't ordinarily play on their friends as a practical joke, a nice sloppy letter of introduction to them; or hand out to a man that they wouldn't give away as a booby prize, a letter of recommendation in which they crack him up as having all the qualities necessary for an a sunday-school superintendent and bank president. now that you are a boss you will find that every other man who comes to your desk is going to ask you for something; in fact, the difference between being a sub and a boss is largely a matter of asking for things and of being asked for things. but it's just as one of those poets said--you can't afford to burn down the glue factory to stimulate the demand for glue stock, or words to that effect. of course, i don't mean by this that i want you to be one of those fellows who swell out like a ready-made shirt and brag that they "never borrow and never lend." they always think that this shows that they are sound, conservative business men, but, as a matter of fact, it simply stamps them as mighty mean little cusses. it's very superior, i know, to say that you never borrow, but most men have to at one time or another, and then they find that the never-borrow-never-lend platform is a mighty inconvenient one to be standing on. be just in business and generous out of it. a fellow's generosity needs a heap of exercise to keep it in good condition, and the hand that writes out checks gets cramped easier than the hand that takes them in. you want to keep them both limber. while i don't believe in giving with a string tied to every dollar, or doing up a gift in so many conditions that the present is lost in the wrappings, it's a good idea not to let most people feel that money can be had for the asking. if you do, they're apt to go into the asking business for a living. but these millionaires who give away a hundred thousand or so, with the understanding that the other fellow will raise another hundred thousand or so, always remind me of a lot of boys coaxing a dog into their yard with a hunk of meat, so that they can tie a tin can to his tail--the pup edges up licking his chops at the thought of the provisions and hanging his tail at the thought of the hardware. if he gets the meat, he's got to run himself to death to get rid of the can. while we're on this subject of favors i want to impress on you the importance of deciding promptly. the man who can make up his mind quick, makes up other people's minds for them. decision is a sharp knife that cuts clear and straight and lays bare the fat and the lean; indecision, a dull one that hacks and tears and leaves ragged edges behind it. say yes or no--seldom perhaps. some people have such fertile imaginations that they will take a grain of hope and grow a large definite promise with bark on it overnight, and later, when you come to pull that out of their brains by the roots, it hurts, and they holler. when a fellow asks for a job in your department there may be reasons why you hate to give him a clear-cut refusal, but tell him frankly that you see no possibility of placing him, and while he may not like the taste of the medicine, he swallows it and it's down and forgotten. but you say to him that you're very sorry your department is full just now, but that you think a place will come along later and that he shall have the first call on it, and he goes away with his teeth in a job. you've simply postponed your trouble for a few weeks or months. and trouble postponed always has to be met with accrued interest. never string a man along in business. it isn't honest and it isn't good policy. either's a good reason, but taken together they head the list of good reasons. of course, i don't mean that you want to go rampaging along, trampling on people's feelings and goring every one who sticks up a head in your path. but there's no use shilly-shallying and doddering with people who ask questions and favors they have no right to ask. don't hurt any one if you can help it, but if you must, a clean, quick wound heals soonest. when you can, it's better to refuse a request by letter. in a letter you need say only what you choose; in a talk you may have to say more than you want to say. with the best system in the world you'll find it impossible, however, to keep a good many people who have no real business with you from seeing you and wasting your time, because a broad-gauged merchant must be accessible. when a man's office is policed and every one who sees him has to prove that he's taken the third degree and is able to give the grand hailing sign, he's going to miss a whole lot of things that it would be mighty valuable for him to know. of course, the man whose errand could be attended to by the office-boy is always the one who calls loudest for the boss, but with a little tact you can weed out most of these fellows, and it's better to see ten bores than to miss one buyer. a house never gets so big that it can afford to sniff at a hundred-pound sausage order, or to feel that any customer is so small that it can afford not to bother with him. you've got to open a good many oysters to find a pearl. you should answer letters just as you answer men--promptly, courteously, and decisively. of course, you don't ever want to go off half-cocked and bring down a cow instead of the buck you're aiming at, but always remember that game is shy and that you can't shoot too quick after you've once got it covered. when i go into a fellow's office and see his desk buried in letters with the dust on them, i know that there are cobwebs in his head. foresight is the quality that makes a great merchant, but a man who has his desk littered with yesterday's business has no time to plan for to-morrow's. the only letters that can wait are those which provoke a hot answer. a good hot letter is always foolish, and you should never write a foolish thing if you can say it to the man instead, and never say it if you can forget it. the wisest man may make an ass of himself to-day, over to-day's provocation, but he won't tomorrow. before being used, warm words should be run into the cooling-room until the animal heat is out of them. of course, there's no use in a fool's waiting, because there's no room in a small head in which to lose a grievance. speaking of small heads naturally calls to mind a gold brick named solomon saunders that i bought when i was a good deal younger and hadn't been buncoed so often. i got him with a letter recommending him as a sort of happy combination of the three wise men of the east and the nine muses, and i got rid of him with one in which i allowed that he was the whole dozen. i really hired sol because he reminded me of some one i'd known and liked, though i couldn't just remember at the time who it was; but one day, after he'd been with me about a week, it came to me in a flash that he was the living image of old bucker, a billy-goat i'd set aheap of store by when i was a boy. that was a lesson to me on the foolishness of getting sentimental in business. i never think of the old homestead that echo doesn't answer, "give up!"; or hear from it without getting a bill for having been born there. sol had started out in life to be a great musician. had raised the hair for the job and had kept his finger-nails cut just right for it, but somehow, when he played "my old kentucky home," nobody sobbed softly in the fourth row. you see, he could play a piece absolutely right and meet every note just when it came due, but when he got through it was all wrong. that was sol in business, too. he knew just the right rule for doing everything and did it just that way, and yet everything he did turned out to be a mistake. made it twice as aggravating because you couldn't consistently find fault with him. if you'd given sol the job of making over the earth he'd have built it out of the latest text-book on "how to make the world better," and have turned out something as correct as a spike-tail coat--and every one would have wanted to die to get out of it. then, too, i never saw such a cuss for system. other men would forget costs and prices, but sol never did. seemed he ran his memory by system. had a way when there was a change in the price-list of taking it home and setting it to poetry. used "ring out, wild bells," by a. tennyson, for a bull market--remember he began it "ring off, wild bulls"--and "break, break, break," for a bear one. it used to annoy me considerable when i asked him the price of pork tenderloins to have him mumble through two or three verses till he fetched it up, but i didn't have any real kick coming till he got ambitious and i had to wait till he'd hummed half through a grand opera to get a quotation on pickled pigs' feet in kits. i felt that we had reached the parting of the ways then, but i didn't like to point out his way too abruptly, because the friend who had unloaded him on us was pretty important to me in my business just then, and he seemed to be all wrapped up in sol's making a hit with us. it's been my experience, though, that sometimes when you can't kick a man out of the back door without a row, you can get him to walk out the front way voluntarily. so when i get stuck with a fellow that, for some reason, it isn't desirable to fire, i generally promote him and raise his pay. some of these weak sisters i make the assistant boss of the machine-shop and some of the bone-meal mill. i didn't dare send sol to the machine-shop, because i knew he wouldn't have been there a week before he'd have had the shop running on götterdämmerung or one of those other cuss-word operas of wagner's. but the strong point of a bone-meal mill is bone-dust, and the strong point of bone-dust is smell, and the strong point of its smell is its staying qualities. naturally it's the sort of job for which you want a bald-headed man, because a fellow who's got nice thick curls will cheat the house by taking a good deal of the product home with him. to tell the truth, sol's hair had been worrying me almost as much as his system. when i hired him i'd supposed he'd finally molt it along with his musical tail-feathers. i had a little talk with him then, in which i hinted at the value of looking clear-cut and trim and of giving sixteen ounces to the pound, but the only result of it was that he went off and bought a pot of scented vaseline and grew another inch of hair for good measure. it seemed a pity now, so long as i was after his scalp, not to get it with the hair on. sol had never seen a bone-meal mill, but it flattered him mightily to be promoted into the manufacturing end, "where a fellow could get ahead faster," and he said good-by to the boys in the office with his nose in the air, where he kept it, i reckon, during the rest of his connection with the house. if sol had stuck it out for a month at the mill i'd have known that he had the right stuff in him somewhere and have taken him back into the office after a good rub-down with pumice-stone. but he turned up the second day, smelling of violet soap and bone-meal, and he didn't sing his list of grievances, either. started right in by telling me how, when he got into a street-car, all the other passengers sort of faded out; and how his landlady insisted on serving his meals in his room. almost foamed at the mouth when i said the office seemed a little close and opened the window, and he quoted some poetry about that being "the most unkindest cut of all." wound up by wanting to know how he was going to get it out of his hair. i broke it to him as gently as i could that it would have to wear out or be cut out, and tried to make him see that it was better to be a bald-headed boss on a large salary than a curly-headed clerk on a small one; but, in the end, he resigned, taking along a letter from me to the friend who had recommended him and some of my good bone-meal. i didn't grudge him the fertilizer, but i did feel sore that he hadn't left me a lock of his hair, till some one saw him a few days later, dodging along with his collar turned up and his hat pulled down, looking like a new-clipped lamb. i heard, too, that the fellow who had given him the wise-men-muses letter to me was so impressed with the almost exact duplicate of it which i gave sol, and with the fact that i had promoted him so soon, that he concluded he must have let a good man get by him, and hired him himself. sol was a failure as a musician because, while he knew all the notes, he had nothing in himself to add to them when he played them. it's easy to learn all the notes that make good music and all the rules that make good business, but a fellow's got to add the fine curves to them himself if he wants to do anything more than beat the bass-drum all his life. some men think that rules should be made of cast iron; i believe that they should be made of rubber, so that they can be stretched to fit any particular case and then spring back into shape again. the really important part of a rule is the exception to it. your affectionate father, john graham. p.s.--leave for home to-morrow. no. from john graham, at the hotel cecil, london, to his son, pierrepont, at the union stock yards, chicago. the old man has just finished going through the young man's first report as manager of the lard department, and he finds it suspiciously good. iv london, december , -. _dear pierrepont_: your first report; looks so good that i'm a little afraid of it. figures don't lie, i know, but that's, only because they can't talk. as a matter of fact, they're just as truthful as the man who's behind them. it's been my experience that there are two kinds of figures--educated and uneducated ones--and that the first are a good deal like the people who have had the advantage of a college education on the inside and the disadvantage of a society finish on the outside--they're apt to tell you only the smooth and the pleasant things. of course, it's mighty nice to be told that the shine of your shirt-front is blinding the floor-manager's best girl; but if there's a hole in the seat of your pants you ought to know that, too, because sooner or later you've got to turn your back to the audience. now don't go off half-cocked and think i'm allowing that you ain't truthful; because i think you are--reasonably so--and i'm sure that everything you say in your report is true. but is there anything you don't say in it? a good many men are truthful on the installment plan--that is, they tell their boss all the good things in sight about their end of the business and then dribble out the bad ones like a fellow who's giving you a list of his debts. they'll yell for a week that the business of their department has increased ten per cent., and then own up in a whisper that their selling cost has increased twenty. in the end, that always creates a worse impression than if both sides of the story had been told at once or the bad had been told first. it's like buying a barrel of apples that's been deaconed--after you've found that the deeper you go the meaner and wormier the fruit, you forget all about the layer of big, rosy, wax-finished pippins which was on top. i never worry about the side of a proposition that i can see; what i want to get a look at is the side that's out of sight. the bugs always snuggle down on the under side of the stone. the best year we ever had--in our minds--was one when the superintendent of the packing-house wanted an increase in his salary, and, to make a big showing, swelled up his inventory like a poisoned pup. it took us three months, to wake up to what had happened, and a year to get over feeling as if there was sand in our eyes when we compared the second showing with the first. an optimist is as bad as a drunkard when he comes to figure up results in business--he sees double. i employ optimists to get results and pessimists to figure them up. after i've charged off in my inventory for wear and tear and depreciation, i deduct a little more just for luck--bad luck. that's the only sort of luck a merchant can afford to make a part of his calculations. the fellow who said you can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear wasn't on to the packing business. you can make the purse and you can fill it, too, from the same critter. what you can't do is to load up a report with moonshine or an inventory with wind, and get anything more substantial than a moonlight sail toward bankruptcy. the kittens of a wildcat are wildcats, and there's no use counting on their being angoras. speaking of educated pigs naturally calls to mind jake solzenheimer and the lard that he sold half a cent a pound cheaper than any one else in the business could make it. that was a long time ago, when the packing business was still on the bottle, and when the hogs that came to chicago got only a common-school education and graduated as plain hams and sides and lard and sausage. literature hadn't hit the hog business then. it was just graham's hams or smith's lard, and there were no poetical brands or high-art labels. well, sir, one day i heard that this jake was offering lard to the trade at half a cent under the market, and that he'd had the nerve to label it "driven snow leaf." told me, when i ran up against him on the street, that he'd got the name from a song which began, "once i was pure as the driven snow." said it made him feel all choky and as if he wanted to be a better man, so he'd set out to make the song famous in the hope of its helping others. allowed that this was a hard world, and that it was little enough we could do in our business life to scatter sunshine along the way; but he proposed that every can which left his packing-house after this should carry the call to a better life into some humble home. i let him lug that sort of stuff to the trough till he got tired, and then i looked him square in the eye and went right at him with: "jake, what you been putting in that lard?" because i knew mighty well that there was something in it which had never walked on four feet and fattened up on fifty-cent corn and then paid railroad fare from the missouri river to chicago. there are a good many things i don't know, but hogs ain't one of them. jake just grinned at me and swore that there was nothing in his lard except the pure juice of the hog; so i quit fooling with him and took a can of "driven snow" around to our chemist. it looked like lard and smelt like lard--in fact, it looked better than real lard: too white and crinkly and tempting on top. and the next day the chemist came down to my office and told me that "driven snow" must have been driven through a candle factory, because it had picked up about twenty per cent. of paraffin wax somewhere. of course, i saw now why jake was able to undersell us all, but it was mighty important to knock out "driven snow" with the trade in just the right way, because most of our best customers had loaded up with it. so i got the exact formula from the chemist and had about a hundred sample cans made up, labeling each one "wandering boy leaf lard," and printing on the labels: "this lard contains twenty per cent. of paraffin." i sent most of these cans, with letters of instruction, to our men through the country. then i waited until it was jake's time to be at the live stock exchange, and happened in with a can of "wandering boy" under my arm. it didn't take me long to get into conversation with jake, and as we talked i swung that can around until it attracted his attention, and he up and asked: "what you got there, graham?" "oh, that," i answered, slipping the can behind my back--"that's a new lard we're putting out--something not quite so expensive as our regular brand." jake stopped grinning then and gave me a mighty sharp look. "lemme have a squint at it," says he, trying not to show too keen an interest in his face. i held back a little; then i said: "well, i don't just know as i ought to show you this. we haven't regularly put it on the market, and this can ain't a fair sample of what we can do; but so long as i sort of got the idea from you i might as well tell you. i'd been thinking over what you said about that lard of yours, and while they were taking a collection in church the other day the soprano up and sings a mighty touching song. it began, 'where is my wandering boy to-night?' and by the time she was through i was feeling so mushy and sobby that i put a five instead of a one into the plate by mistake. i've been thinking ever since that the attention of the country ought to be called to that song, and so i've got up this missionary lard"; and i shoved the can of "wandering boy" under his eyes, giving him time to read the whole label. "h--l!" he said. "yes," i answered; "that's it. good lard gone wrong; but it's going to do a great work." [illustration: "that's it--good lard gone wrong"] jake's face looked like the lost tribes--the whole bunch of 'em--as the thing soaked in; and then he ran his arm through mine and drew me off into a corner. "graham," said he, "let's drop this cussed foolishness. you keep dark about this and we'll divide the lard trade of the country." i pretended not to understand what he was driving at, but reached out and grasped his hand and wrung it. "yes, yes, jake," i said; "we'll stand shoulder to shoulder and make the lard business one grand sweet song," and then i choked him off by calling another fellow into the conversation. it hardly seemed worth while to waste time telling jake what he was going to find out when he got back to his office--that there wasn't any lard business to divide, because i had hogged it all. you see, my salesmen had taken their samples of "wandering boy" around to the buyers and explained that it was made from the same formula as "driven snow," and could be bought at the same price. they didn't sell any "boy," of course--that wasn't the idea; but they loaded up the trade with our regular brand, to take the place of the "driven snow," which was shipped back to jake by the car-lot. since then, when anything looks too snowy and smooth and good at the first glance, i generally analyze it for paraffin. i've found that this is a mighty big world for a square man and a mighty small world for a crooked one. i simply mention these things in a general way. i've confidence that you're going to make good as head of the lard department, and if, when i get home, i find that your work analyzes seventy-five per cent, as pure as your report i shall be satisfied. in the meanwhile i shall instruct the cashier to let you draw a hundred dollars a week, just to show that i haven't got a case of faith without works. i reckon the extra twenty-five per will come in mighty handy now that you're within a month of marrying helen. i'm still learning how to treat an old wife, and so i can't give you many pointers about a young one. for while i've been married as long as i've been in business, and while i know all the curves of the great american hog, your ma's likely to spring a new one on me tomorrow. no man really knows anything about women except a widower, and he forgets it when he gets ready to marry again. and no woman really knows anything about men except a widow, and she's got to forget it before she's willing to marry again. the one thing you can know is that, as a general proposition, a woman is a little better than the man for whom she cares. for when a woman's bad, there's always a man at the bottom of it; and when a man's good, there's always a woman at the bottom of that, too. the fact of the matter is, that while marriages may be made in heaven, a lot of them are lived in hell and end in south dakota. but when a man has picked out a good woman he holds four hearts, and he needn't be afraid to draw cards if he's got good nerve. if he hasn't, he's got no business to be sitting in games of chance. the best woman in the world will begin trying out a man before she's been married to him twenty-four hours; and unless he can smile over the top of a four-flush and raise the ante, she's going to rake in the breeches and keep them. the great thing is to begin right. marriage is a close corporation, and unless a fellow gets the controlling interest at the start he can't pick it up later. the partner who owns fifty-one per cent. of the stock in any business is the boss, even if the other is allowed to call himself president. there's only two jobs for a man in his own house--one's boss and the other's office-boy, and a fellow naturally falls into the one for which he's fitted. of course, when i speak of a fellow's being boss in his own home, i simply mean that, in a broad way, he's going to shape the policy of the concern. when a man goes sticking his nose into the running of the house, he's apt to get it tweaked, and while he's busy drawing _it_ back out of danger he's going to get his leg pulled, too. you let your wife tend to the housekeeping and you focus on earning money with which she can keep house. of course, in one way, it's mighty nice of a man to help around the place, but it's been my experience that the fellows who tend to all the small jobs at home never get anything else to tend to at the office. in the end, it's usually cheaper to give all your attention to your business and to hire a plumber. you don't want to get it into your head, though, that because your wife hasn't any office-hours she has a soft thing. a lot of men go around sticking out their chests and wondering why their wives have so much trouble with the help, when they are able to handle their clerks so easy. if you really want to know, you lift two of your men out of their revolving-chairs, and hang one over a forty-horse-power cook-stove that's booming along under forced draft so that your dinner won't be late, with a turkey that's gobbling for basting in one oven, and a cake that's gone back on you in a low, underhand way in another, and sixteen different things boiling over on top and mixing up their smells. and you set the other at a twelve-hour stunt of making all the beds you've mussed, and washing all the dishes you've used, and cleaning all the dust you've kicked up, and you boss the whole while the baby yells with colic over your arm--you just try this with two of your men and see how long it is before there's rough-house on the wabash. yet a lot of fellows come home after their wives have had a day of this and blow around about how tired and overworked they are, and wonder why home isn't happier. don't you ever forget that it's a blamed sight easier to keep cool in front of an electric fan than a cook-stove, and that you can't subject the best temper in the world to degrees fahrenheit without warming it up a bit. and don't you add to your wife's troubles by saying how much better you could do it, but stand pat and thank the lord you've got a snap. i remember when old doc hoover, just after his wife died, bought a mighty competent nigger, aunt tempy, to cook and look after the house for him. she was the boss cook, you bet, and she could fry a chicken into a bird of paradise just as easy as the doc could sizzle a sinner into a pretty tolerable christian. the old man took his religion with the bristles on, and he wouldn't stand for any sunday work in his house. told tempy to cook enough for two days on saturday and to serve three cold meals on sunday. tempy sniffed a little, but she'd been raised well and didn't talk back. that first sunday doc got his cold breakfast all right, but before he'd fairly laid into it tempy trotted out a cup of hot coffee. that made the old man rage at first, but finally he allowed that, seeing it was made, there was no special harm in taking a sup or two, but not to let it occur again. a few minutes later he called back to tempy in the kitchen and asked her if she'd been sinful enough to make two cups. doc's dinner was ready for him when he got back from church, and it was real food--that is to say, hot food, a-sizzling and a-smoking from the stove. tempy told around afterward that the way the old man went for her about it made her feel mighty proud and set-up over her new master. but she just stood there dripping perspiration and good nature until the doc had wound up by allowing that there was only one part of the hereafter where meals were cooked on sunday, and that she'd surely get a mention on the bill of fare there as dark meat, well done, if she didn't repent, and then she blurted out: "law, chile, you go 'long and 'tend to yo' preaching and i'll 'tend to my cookin'; yo' can't fight the debbil with snow-balls." and what's more, the doc didn't, not while aunt tempy was living. there isn't any moral to this, but there's a hint in it to mind your own business at home as well as at the office. i sail to-morrow. i'm feeling in mighty good spirits, and i hope i'm not going to find anything at your end of the line to give me a relapse. your affectionate father, john graham. no. from john graham, at the waldorf-astoria, new york, to his son, pierrepont, at the union stock yards, chicago. the young man has hinted vaguely of a quarrel between himself and helen heath, who is in new york with her mother, and has suggested that the old man act as peacemaker. v new york, december , -. _dear pierrepont_: i've been afraid all along that you were going to spoil the only really sensible thing you've ever done by making some fool break, so as soon as i got your letter i started right out to trail down helen and her ma. i found them hived up here in the hotel, and miss helen was so sweet to your poor old pa that i saw right off she had a stick cut for his son. of course, i didn't let on that i knew anything about a quarrel, but i gradually steered the conversation around to you, and while i don't want to hurt your feelings, i am violating no confidence when i tell you that the mention of your name aroused about the same sort of enthusiasm that bill bryan's does in wall street--only helen is a lady and so she couldn't cuss. but it wasn't the language of flowers that i saw in her eyes. so i told her that she must make allowances for you, as you were only a half-baked boy, and that, naturally, if she stuck a hat-pin into your crust she was going to strike a raw streak here and there. she sat up a little at that, and started in to tell me that while you had said "some very, very cruel, cruel things to her, still--" but i cut her short by allowing that, sorry as i was to own it, i was afraid you had a streak of the brute in you, and i only hoped that you wouldn't take it out on her after you were married. well, sir, the way she flared up, i thought that all the fourth of july fireworks had gone off at once. the air was full of trouble--trouble in set pieces and bombs and sizzy rockets and sixteen-ball roman candles, and all pointed right at me. then it came on to rain in the usual way, and she began to assure me between showers that you were so kind and gentle that it hurt you to work, or to work at my horrid pig-sticking business, i forget which, and i begged her pardon for having misjudged you so cruelly, and then the whole thing sort of simmered off into a discussion of whether i thought you'd rather she wore pink or blue at breakfast. so i guess you're all right. only you'd better write quick and apologize. i didn't get at the facts of the quarrel, but you're in the wrong. a fellow's always in the wrong when he quarrels with a woman, and even if he wasn't at the start he's sure to be before he gets through. and a man who's decided to marry can't be too quick learning to apologize for things he didn't say and to be forgiven for things he didn't do. when you differ with your wife, never try to reason out who's in the wrong, because you'll find that after you've proved it to her shell still have a lot of talk left that she hasn't used. of course, it isn't natural and it isn't safe for married people, and especially young married people, not to quarrel a little, but you'll save a heap of trouble if you make it a rule never to refuse a request before breakfast and never to grant one after dinner. i don't know why it is, but most women get up in the morning as cheerful as a breakfast-food ad., while a man will snort and paw for trouble the minute his hoofs touch the floor. then, if you'll remember that the longer the last word is kept the bitterer it gets, and that your wife is bound to have it anyway, you'll cut the rest of your quarrels so short that she'll never find out just how much meanness there is in you. be the silent partner at home and the thinking one at the office. do your loose talking in your sleep. of course, if you get a woman who's really fond of quarreling there isn't any special use in keeping still, because she'll holler if you talk back and yell if you don't. the best that you can do is to pretend that you've got a chronic case of ear-ache, and keep your ears stuffed with cotton. then, like as not, she'll buy you one of these things that you hold in your mouth so that you can hear through your teeth. i don't believe you're going to draw anything of that sort with helen, but this is a mighty uncertain world, especially when you get to betting on which way the kitten is going to jump--you can usually guess right about the cat--and things don't always work out as planned. while there's no sure rule for keeping out of trouble in this world, there's a whole set of them for getting into it. i remember a mighty nice, careful mother who used to shudder when slang was used in her presence. so she vowed she'd give _her_ son a name that the boys couldn't twist into any low, vulgar nick-name. she called him algernon, but the kid had a pretty big nose, and the first day he was sent to school with his long lace collar and his short velvet pants the boys christened him snooty, and now his parents are the only people who know what his real name is. after you've been married a little while you're going to find that there are two kinds of happiness you can have--home happiness and fashionable happiness. with the first kind you get a lot of children and with the second a lot of dogs. while the dogs mind better and seem more affectionate, because they kiss you with their whole face, i've always preferred to associate with children. then, for the first kind of happiness you keep house for yourself, and for the second you keep house for the neighbors. you can buy a lot of home happiness with a mighty small salary, but fashionable happiness always costs just a little more than you're making. you can't keep down expenses when you've got to keep up appearances--that is, the appearance of being something that you ain't. you're in the fix of a dog chasing his tail--you can't make ends meet, and if you do it'll give you such a crick in your neck that you won't get any real satisfaction out of your gymnastics. you've got to live on a rump-steak basis when you're alone, so that you can appear to be on a quail-on-toast basis when you have company. and while they're eating your quail and betting that they're cold-storage birds, they'll be whispering to each other that the butcher told their cook that you lived all last week on a soup-bone and two pounds of hamburger steak. your wife must hog it around the house in an old wrapper, because she's got to have two or three of those dresses that come high on the bills and low on the shoulders, and when she wears 'em the neighbors are going to wonder how much you're short in your accounts. and if you've been raised a shouting methodist and been used to hollering your satisfaction in a good hearty glory! or a hallelujah! you've got to quit it and go to one of those churches where the right answer to the question, "what is the chief end of man?" is "dividend," and where they think you're throwing a fit and sick the sexton on to you if you forget yourself and whoop it up a little when your religion gets to working. then, if you do have any children, you can't send them to a plain public school to learn reading, writing, and arithmetic, because they've got to go to a fashionable private one to learn hog-latin, hog-wash, and how much the neighbors are worth. of course, the rich children are going to say that they're pushing little kids, but they've got to learn to push and to shove and to butt right in where they're not wanted if they intend to herd with the real angora billy-goats. they've got to learn how to bow low to every one in front of them and to kick out at every one behind them. it's been my experience that it takes a good four-year course in snubbing before you can graduate a first-class snob. then, when you've sweat along at it for a dozen years or so, you'll wake up some morning and discover that your appearances haven't deceived any one but yourself. a man who tries that game is a good deal like the fellow who puts on a fancy vest over a dirty shirt--he's the only person in the world who can't see the egg-spots under his chin. of course, there isn't any real danger of your family's wearing a false front while i'm alive, because i believe helen's got too much sense to stand for anything of the sort; but if she should, you can expect the old man around with his megaphone to whisper the real figures to your neighbors. i don't care how much or how little money you make--i want you to understand that there's only one place in the world where you can live a happy life, and that's inside your income. a family that's living beyond its means is simply a business that's losing money, and it's bound to go to smash. and to keep a safe distance ahead of the sheriff you've got to make your wife help. more men go broke through bad management at home than at the office. and i might add that a lot of men who are used to getting only one dollar's worth of food for a five-dollar bill down-town, expect their wives to get five dollars' worth of food for a one-dollar bill at the corner grocery, and to save the change toward a pair of diamond earrings. these fellows would plant a tin can and kick because they didn't get a case of tomatoes. of course, some women put their husband's salaries on their backs instead of his ribs; but there are a heap more men who burn up their wives' new sealskin sacques in two-bit cigars. because a man's a good provider it doesn't always mean that he's a good husband--it may mean that he's a hog. and when there's a cuss in the family and it comes down to betting which, on general principles the man always carries my money. i make mistakes at it, but it's the only winning system i've ever been able to discover in games of chance. you want to end the wedding trip with a business meeting and talk to your wife quite as frankly as you would to a man whom you'd taken into partnership. tell her just what your salary is and then lay it out between you--so much for joint expenses, the house and the housekeeping, so much for her expenses, so much for yours, and so much to be saved. that last is the one item on which you can't afford to economize. it's the surplus and undivided profits account of your business, and until the concern accumulates a big one it isn't safe to move into offices on easy street. a lot of fool fathers only give their fool daughters a liberal education in spending, and it's pretty hard to teach those women the real facts about earning and saving, but it's got to be done unless you want to be the fool husband of a fool wife. these girls have an idea that men get money by going to a benevolent old party behind some brass bars and shoving a check at him and telling him that they want it in fifties and hundreds. you should take home your salary in actual money for a while, and explain that it's all you got for sweating like a dog for ten hours a day, through six long days, and that the cashier handed it out with an expression as if you were robbing the cash-drawer of an orphan asylum. make her understand that while those that have gets, when they present a check, those that haven't gets it in the neck. explain that the benevolent old party is only on duty when papa's daughter has a papa that bradstreet rates aa, and that when papa's daughter's husband presents a five-dollar check with a ten-cent overdraft, he's received by a low-browed old brute who calls for the bouncer to put him out. tell her right at the start the worst about the butcher, and the grocer, and the iceman, and the milkman, and the plumber, and the gas-meter--that they want their money and that it has to come out of that little roll of bills. then give her enough to pay them, even if you have to grab for your lunch from a high stool. i used to know an old jew who said that the man who carved was always a fool or a hog, but you've got to learn not to divide your salary on either basis. make your wife pay cash. a woman never really understands money till she's done that for a while. i've noticed that people rarely pay down the money for foolish purchases--they charge them. and it's mighty seldom that a woman's extravagant unless she or her husband pays the bills by check. there's something about counting out the actual legal tender on the spot that keeps a woman from really wanting a lot of things which she thinks she wants. when i married your ma, your grandpa was keeping eighteen niggers busy seeing that the family did nothing. she'd had a liberal education, which, so far as i've been able to find out, means teaching a woman everything except the real business that she's going into--that is, if she marries. but when your ma swapped the big house and the eighteen niggers for me and an old mammy to do the rough work, she left the breakfast-in-bed, fine-lady business behind her and started right in to get the rest of the education that belonged to her. she did a mighty good job, too, all except making ends meet, and they were too elastic for her at first--sort of snapped back and left a deficit just when she thought she had them together. she was mighty sorry about it, but she'd never heard of any way of getting money except asking papa for it, and she'd sort of supposed that every one asked papa when they wanted any, and, why didn't i ask papa? i finally made her see that i couldn't ask my papa, because i hadn't any, and that i couldn't ask hers, because it was against the rules of the game as i played it, and that was her first real lesson in high finance and low finances. i gave her the second when she came to me about the twentieth of the month and kissed me on the ear and sent a tickly little whisper after it to the effect that the household appropriation for the month was exhausted and the pork-barrel and the meal-sack and the chicken-coop were in the same enfeebled condition. i didn't say anything at first, only looked pretty solemn, and then i allowed that she'd have to go into the hands of a receiver. well, sir, the way she snuggled up to me and cried made me come pretty close to weakening, but finally i told her that i reckoned i could manage to be appointed by the court and hush up the scandal so the neighbors wouldn't hear of it. i took charge of her little books and paid over to myself her housekeeping money each month, buying everything myself, but explaining every move i made, until in the end i had paid her out of debt and caught up with my salary again. then i came home on the first of the month, handed out her share of the money, and told her that the receiver had been discharged by the court. my! but she was pleased. and then she paid me out for the scare i'd given her by making me live on side-meat and corn-bread for a month, so she'd be sure not to get the sheriff after her again. of course, i had to tell her all about it in the end, and though she's never forgotten what she learned about money during the receivership, she's never quite forgiven the receiver. speaking of receiving, i notice the receipts of hogs are pretty light. hold your lard prices up stiff to the market. it looks to me as if that milwaukee crowd was getting under the february delivery. your affectionate father, john graham. p.s.--you've got to square me with helen. no. from john graham, at the waldorf-astoria, new york, to his son, pierrepont, at the union stock yards, chicago. the young man has written describing the magnificent wedding presents that are being received, and hinting discreetly that it would not come amiss if he knew what shape the old man's was going to take, as he needs the money. vi new york, december , -. _dear pierrepont_: these fellows at the branch house here have been getting altogether too blamed refined to suit me in their ideas of what's a fair day's work, so i'm staying over a little longer than i had intended, in order to ring the rising bell for them and to get them back into good chicago habits. the manager started in to tell me that you couldn't do any business here before nine or ten in the morning--and i raised that boy myself! we had a short season of something that wasn't exactly prayer, but was just as earnest, and i think he sees the error of his ways. he seemed to feel that just because he was getting a fair share of the business i ought to be satisfied, but i don't want any half-sports out gunning with me. it's the fellow that settles himself in his blind before the ducks begin to fly who gets everything that's coming to his decoys. i reckon we'll have to bring this man back to chicago and give him a beef house where he has to report at five before he can appreciate what a soft thing it is to get down to work at eight. i'm mighty glad to hear you're getting so many wedding presents that you think you'll have enough to furnish your house, only you don't want to fingermark them looking to see it a hundred-thousand-dollar check from me ain't slipped in among them, because it ain't. i intend to give you a present, all right, but there's a pretty wide margin for guessing between a hundred thousand dollars and the real figures. and you don't want to feel too glad about what you've got, either, because you're going to find out that furnishing a house with wedding presents is equivalent to furnishing it on the installment plan. along about the time you want to buy a go-cart for the twins, you'll discover that you'll have to make tommy's busted old baby-carriage do, because you've got to use the money to buy a tutti-frutti ice-cream spoon for the young widow who sent you a doormat with "welcome" on it. and when she gets it, the young widow will call you that idiotic mr. graham, because she's going to have sixteen other tutti-frutti ice-cream spoons, and her doctor's told her that if she eats sweet things she'll have to go in the front door like a piano--sideways. then when you get the junk sorted over and your house furnished with it, you're going to sit down to dinner on some empty soap-boxes, with the soup in cut-glass finger-bowls, and the fish on a hand-painted smoking-set, and the meat on dinky, little egg-shell salad plates, with ice-cream forks and fruit knives to eat with. you'll spend most of that meal wondering why somebody didn't send you one of those hundred and sixteen piece five-dollar-ninety-eight-marked-down-from-six sets of china. while i don't mean to say that the average wedding present carries a curse instead of a blessing, it could usually repeat a few cuss-words if it had a retentive memory. speaking of wedding presents and hundred-thousand-dollar checks naturally brings to mind my old friend hamilton huggins--old ham they called him at the yards--and the time he gave his son, percival, a million dollars. take him by and large, ham was as slick as a greased pig. before he came along, the heft of the beef hearts went into the fertilizer tanks, but he reasoned out that they weren't really tough, but that their firmness was due to the fact that the meat in them was naturally condensed, and so he started putting them out in his celebrated condensed mincemeat at ten cents a pound. took his pigs' livers, too, and worked 'em up into a genuine strasburg pâté de foie gras that made the wild geese honk when they flew over his packing-house. discovered that a little chopped cheek-meat at two cents a pound was a blamed sight healthier than chopped pork at six. reckoned that by running twenty-five per cent. of it into his pork sausage he saved a hundred thousand people every year from becoming cantankerous old dyspeptics. ham was simply one of those fellows who not only have convolutions in their brains, but kinks and bow-knots as well, and who can believe that any sort of a lie is gospel truth just so it is manufactured and labeled on their own premises. i confess i ran out a line of those pigs' liver pâtés myself, but i didn't do it because i was such a patriot that i couldn't stand seeing the american flag insulted by a lot of frenchmen getting a dollar for a ten-cent article, and that simply because geese have smaller livers than pigs. for all old ham was so shrewd at the yards, he was one of those fellows who begin losing their common-sense at the office door, and who reach home doddering and blithering. had a fool wife with the society bug in her head, and as he had the one-of-our-leading-citizens bug in his, they managed between them to raise a lovely warning for a sunday-school superintendent in their son, percival. percy was mommer's angel boy with the sunny curls, who was to be raised a gentleman and to be "shielded from the vulgar surroundings and coarse associations of her husband's youth," and he was proud popper's pet, whose good times weren't going to be spoiled by a narrow-minded old brute of a father, or whose talents weren't going to be smothered in poverty, the way the old man's had been. no, sir-ee, percy was going to have all the money he wanted, with the whisky bottle always in sight on the sideboard and no limit on any game he wanted to sit in, so that he'd grow up a perfect little gentleman and know how to use things instead of abusing them. i want to say right here that i've heard a good deal of talk in my time about using whisky, and i've met a good many thousand men who bragged when they were half loaded that they could quit at any moment, but i've never met one of these fellows who would while the whisky held out. it's been my experience that when a fellow begins to brag that he can quit whenever he wants to, he's usually reached the point where he can't. naturally, percy had hardly got the pap-rag out of his mouth before he learned to smoke cigarettes, and he could cuss like a little gentleman before he went into long pants. took the four-years' sporting course at harvard, with a postgraduate year of draw-poker and natural history--observing the habits and the speed of the ponies in their native haunts. then, just to prove that he had paresis, old ham gave him a million dollars outright and a partnership in his business. percy started in to learn the business at the top--absorbing as much of it as he could find room for between ten and four, with two hours out for lunch--but he never got down below the frosting. the one thing that old ham wouldn't let him touch was the only thing about the business which really interested percy--the speculating end of it. but everything else he did went with the old gentleman, and he was always bragging that percy was growing up into a big, broad-gauged merchant. he got mighty mad with me when i told him that percy was just a ready-made success who was so small that he rattled round in his seat, and that he'd better hold in his horses, as there were a good many humps in the road ahead of him. old ham was a sure-thing packer, like myself, and let speculating alone, never going into the market unless he had the goods or knew where he could get them; but when he did plunge into the pit, he usually climbed out with both hands full of money and a few odd thousand-dollar bills sticking in his hair. so when he came to me one day and pointed out that prime steam lard at eight cents for the november delivery, and the west alive with hogs, was a crime against the consumer, i felt inclined to agree with him, and we took the bear side of the market together. somehow, after we had gone short a big line, the law of supply and demand quit business. there were plenty of hogs out west, and all the packers were making plenty of lard, but people seemed to be frying everything they ate, and using lard in place of hair-oil, for the prime steam moved out as fast as it was made. the market simply sucked up our short sales and hollered for more, like a six-months shoat at the trough. pound away as we would, the november option moved slowly up to - / , to , to - / . then, with delivery day only six weeks off, it jumped overnight to , and closed firm at - / . we stood to lose a little over a million apiece right there, and no knowing what the crowd that was under the market would gouge us for in the end. as soon as 'change closed that day, old ham and i got together and gave ourselves one guess apiece to find out where we stood, and we both guessed right--in a corner. we had a little over a month to get together the lard to deliver on our short sales or else pay up, but we hadn't had enough experience in the paying-up business to feel like engaging in it. so that afternoon we wired our agents through the west to start anything that looked like a hog toward chicago, and our men in the east to ship us every tierce of prime steam they could lay their hands on. then we made ready to try out every bit of hog fat, from a grease spot up, that we could find in the country. and all the time the price kept climbing on us like a nigger going up a persimmon tree, till it was rising seventeen cents. so far the bull crowd had managed to keep their identity hidden, and we'd been pretty modest about telling the names of the big bears, because we weren't very proud of the way we'd been caught napping, and because old ham was mighty anxious that percy shouldn't know that his safe old father had been using up the exception to his rule of no speculation. it was a near thing for us, but the american hog responded nobly--and a good many other critters as well, i suspect--and when it came on toward delivery day we found that we had the actual lard to turn over on our short contracts, and some to spare. but ham and i had lost a little fat ourselves, and we had learned a whole lot about the iniquity of selling goods that you haven't got, even when you do it with the benevolent intention of cheapening an article to the consumer. we got together at his office in the board of trade building to play off the finals with the bull crowd. we'd had inspectors busy all night passing the lard which we'd gathered together and which was arriving by boat-loads and train-loads. then, before 'change opened, we passed the word around through our brokers that there wasn't any big short interest left, and to prove it they pointed to the increase in the stocks of prime steam in store and gave out the real figures on what was still in transit. by the time the bell rang for trading on the floor we had built the hottest sort of a fire under the market, and thirty minutes after the opening the price of the november option had melted down flat to twelve cents. we gave the bulls a breathing space there, for we knew we had them all nicely rounded up in the killing-pens, and there was no hurry. but on toward noon, when things looked about right, we jumped twenty brokers into the pit, all selling at once and offering in any sized lots for which they could find takers. it was like setting off a pack of firecrackers--biff! bang! bang! our brokers gave it to them, and when the smoke cleared away the bits of that busted corner were scattered all over the pit, and there was nothing left for us to do but to pick up our profits; for we had swung a loss of millions over to the other side of the ledger. just as we were sending word to our brokers to steady the market so as to prevent a bad panic and failures, the door of the private office flew open, and in bounced mr. percy, looking like a hound dog that had lapped up a custard pie while the cook's back was turned and is hunting for a handy bed to hide under. had let his cigarette go out--he wore one in his face as regularly as some fellows wear a pink in their buttonhole--and it was drooping from his lower lip, instead of sticking up under his nose in the old sporty, sassy way. "oh, gov'ner!" he cried as he slammed the door behind him; "the market's gone to hell." "quite so, my son, quite so," nodded old ham approvingly; "it's the bottomless pit to-day, all right, all right." i saw it coming, but it came hard. percy sputtered and stuttered and swallowed it once or twice, and then it broke loose in: "and oh! gov'ner, i'm caught--in a horrid hole--you've got to help me out!" "eh! what's that!" exclaimed the old man, losing his just-after-a-hearty-meal expression. "what's that--caught--speculating, after what i've said to you! don't tell me that you're one of that bull crowd--don't you dare do it, sir." "ye-es," and percy's voice was scared back to a whisper; "yes; and what's more, i'm the whole bull crowd--the great bull they've all been talking and guessing about." great scott! but i felt sick. here we'd been, like two pebbles in a rooster's gizzard, grinding up a lot of corn that we weren't going to get any good of. i itched to go for that young man myself, but i knew this was one of those holy moments between father and son when an outsider wants to pull his tongue back into its cyclone cellar. and when i looked at ham, i saw that no help was needed, for the old man was coming out of his twenty-five-years' trance over percy. he didn't say a word for a few minutes, just kept boring into the young man with his eyes, and though percy had a cheek like brass, ham's stare went through it as easy as a two-inch bit goes into boiler-plate. then, "take that cigaroot out of your mouth," he bellered. "what d'ye mean by coming into my office smoking cigareets?" percy had always smoked whatever he blamed pleased, wherever he blamed pleased before, though old ham wouldn't stand for it from any one else. but because things have been allowed to go all wrong for twenty-five years, it's no reason why they should be allowed to go wrong for twenty-five years and one day; and i was mighty glad to see old ham rubbing the sleep out of his eyes at last. "but, gov'ner," percy began, throwing the cigarette away, "i really--" "don't you but me; i won't stand it. and don't you call me gov'ner. i won't have your low-down street slang in my office. so you're the great bull, eh? you bull-pup! you bull in a china shop! the great bull-calf, you mean. where'd you get the money for all this cussedness? where'd you get the money? tell me that. spit it out--quick--i say." [illustration: "tried to bust your poor old father"] "well, i've got a million dollars," percy dribbled out. "had a million dollars, and it was my good money," the old man moaned. "and an interest in the business, you know." "yep; i oughter. i s'pose you hocked that." "not exactly; but it helped me to raise a little money." "you bet it helped you; but where'd you get the rest? where'd you raise the money to buy all this cash lard and ship it abroad? where'd you get it? you tell me that." "well, ah--the banks--loaned--me--a---good deal." "on your face." "not exactly that--but they thought--inferred--that you were interested with me--and without--" percy's tongue came to a full stop when he saw the old man's face. "oh! they did, eh! they did, eh!" ham exploded. "tried to bust your poor old father, did you! would like to see him begging his bread, would you, or piking in the bucket-shops for five-dollar bills! wasn't satisfied with soaking him with his own million! couldn't rest when you'd swatted him with his own business! wanted to bat him over the head with his own credit! and now you come whining around--" "but, dad--" "don't you dad me, dad-fetch you--don't you try any absalom business on me. you're caught by the hair, all right, and i'm not going to chip in for any funeral expenses." right here i took a hand myself, because i was afraid ham was going to lose his temper, and that's one thing you can't always pick up in the same place that you left it. so i called ham off, and told percy to come back in an hour with his head broker and i'd protect his trades in the meanwhile. then i pointed out to the old man that we'd make a pretty good thing on the deal, even after we'd let percy out, as he'd had plenty of company on the bull side that could pay up; and anyway, that the boy was a blamed sight more important than the money, and here was the chance to make a man of him. we were all ready for mister percy when he came back, and ham got right down to business. "young man, i've decided to help you out of this hole," he began. percy chippered right up. "thank you, sir," he said. "yes, i'm going to help you," the old man went on. "i'm going to take all your trades off your hands and assume all your obligations at the banks." "thank you, sir." "stop interrupting when i'm talking, i'm going to take up all your obligations, and you're going to pay me three million dollars for doing it. when the whole thing's cleaned up that will probably leave me a few hundred thousand in the hole, but i'm going to do the generous thing by you." percy wasn't so chipper now. "but, father," he protested, "i haven't got three million dollars; and you know very well i can't possibly raise any three million dollars." "yes, you can," said ham. "there's the million i gave you: that makes one. there's your interest in the business; i'll buy it back for a million: that makes two. and i'll take your note at five per cent, for the third million. a fair offer, mr. graham?" "very liberal, indeed, mr. huggins," i answered. "but i won't have anything to live on, let alone any chance to pay you back, if you take my interest in the business away," pleaded percy. "i've thought of that, too," said his father, "and i'm going to give you a job. the experience you've had in this campaign ought to make you worth twenty-five dollars a week to us in our option department. then you can board at home for five dollars a week, and pay ten more on your note. that'll leave you ten per for clothes and extras." percy wriggled and twisted and tried tears. talked a lot of flip-flap flub-doodle, but ham was all through with the proud-popper business, and the young man found him as full of knots as a hickory root, and with a hide that would turn the blade of an ax. percy was simply in the fix of the skunk that stood on the track and humped up his back at the lightning express--there was nothing left of him except a deficit and the stink he'd kicked up. and a fellow can't dictate terms with those assets. in the end he left the room with a ring in his nose. after all, there was more in percy than cussedness, for when he finally decided that it was a case of root hog or die with him, he turned in and rooted. it took him ten years to get back into his father's confidence and a partnership, and he was still paying on the million-dollar note when the old man died and left him his whole fortune. it would have been cheaper for me in the end if i had let the old man disinherit him, because when percy ran that mess pork corner three years ago, he caught me short a pretty good line and charged me two dollars a barrel more than any one else to settle. explained that he needed the money to wipe out the unpaid balance of a million-dollar note that he'd inherited from his father. i simply mention percy to show why i'm a little slow to regard members of my family as charitable institutions that i should settle endowments on. if there's one thing i like less than another, it's being regarded as a human meal-ticket. what is given to you always belongs to some one else, and if the man who gave it doesn't take it back, some fellow who doesn't have to have things given to him is apt to come along and run away with it. but what you earn is your own, and apt to return your affection for it with interest--pretty good interest. your affectionate father, john graham. p.s.--i forgot to say that i had bought a house on michigan avenue for helen, but there's a provision in the deed that she can turn you out if you don't behave. no. from john graham, at the union stock yards, chicago, to his son, pierrepont, at yemassee-on-the-tallahassee. the young man is now in the third quarter of the honeymoon, and the old man has decided that it is time to bring him fluttering down to earth. vii chicago, january , -. _dear pierrepont_: after you and helen had gone off looking as if you'd just bought seats on 'change and been baptized into full membership with all the sample bags of grain that were handy, i found your new mother-in-law out in the dining-room, and, judging by the plates around her, she was carrying in stock a full line of staple and fancy groceries and delicatessen. when i struck her she was crying into her third plate of ice cream, and complaining bitterly to the butler because the mould had been opened so carelessly that some salt had leaked into it. of course, i started right in to be sociable and to cheer her up, but i reckon i got my society talk a little mixed--i'd been one of the pall-bearers at josh burton's funeral the day before--and i told her that she must bear up and eat a little something to keep up her strength, and to remember that our loss was helen's gain. now, i don't take much stock in all this mother-in-law talk, though i've usually found that where there's so much smoke there's a little fire; but i'm bound to say that helen's ma came back at me with a sniff and a snort, and made me feel sorry that i'd intruded on her sacred grief. told me that a girl of helen's beauty and advantages had naturally been very, very popular, and greatly sought after. said that she had been received in the very best society in europe, and might have worn strawberry leaves if she'd chosen, meaning, i've since found out, that she might have married a duke. [illustration: crying into her third plate of ice cream] i tried to soothe the old lady, and to restore good feeling by allowing that wearing leaves had sort of gone out of fashion with the garden of eden, and that i liked helen better in white satin, but everything i said just seemed to enrage her the more. told me plainly that she'd thought, and hinted that she'd hoped, right up to last month, that helen was going to marry a french nobleman, the count de somethingerino or other, who was crazy about her. so i answered that we'd both had a narrow escape, because i'd been afraid for a year that i might wake up any morning and find myself the father-in-law of a crystal slipper chorus-girl. then, as it looked as if the old lady was going to bust a corset-string in getting out her answer, i modestly slipped away, leaving her leaking brine and acid like a dill pickle that's had a bite taken out of it. good mothers often make bad mothers-in-law, because they usually believe that, no matter whom their daughters marry, they could have gone farther and fared better. but it struck me that helen's ma has one of those retentive memories and weak mouths--the kind of memory that never loses anything it should forget, and the kind of mouth that can't retain a lot of language which it shouldn't lose. of course, you want to honor your mother-in-law, that your days may be long in the land; but you want to honor this one from a distance, for the same reason. otherwise, i'm afraid you'll hear a good deal about that french count, and how hard it is for helen to have to associate with a lot of mavericks from the stock yards, when she might be running with blooded stock on the other side. and if you glance up from your morning paper and sort of wonder out loud whether corbett or fitzsimmons is the better man, mother-in-law will glare at you over the top of her specs and ask if you don't think it's invidious to make any comparisons if they're both striving, to lead earnest, christian lives. then, when you come home at night, you'll be apt to find your wife sniffing your breath when you kiss her, to see if she can catch that queer, heavy smell which mother has noticed on it; or looking at you slant-eyed when she feels some letters in your coat, and wondering if what mother says is true, and if men who've once taken chorus-girls to supper never really recover from the habit. on general principles, it's pretty good doctrine that two's a company and three's a crowd, except when the third is a cook. but i should say that when the third is helen's ma it's a mob, out looking for a chance to make rough-house. a good cook, a good wife and a good job will make a good home anywhere; but you add your mother-in-law, and the first thing you know you've got two homes, and one of them is being run on alimony. you want to remember that, beside your mother-in-law, you're a comparative stranger to your wife. after you and helen have lived together for a year, you ought to be so well acquainted that she'll begin to believe that you know almost as much as mamma; but during the first few months of married life there are apt to be a good many tie votes on important matters, and if mother-in-law is on the premises she is generally going to break the tie by casting the deciding vote with daughter. a man can often get the best of one woman, or ten men, but not of two women, when one of the two is mother-in-law. when a young wife starts housekeeping with her mother too handy, it's like running a business with a new manager and keeping the old one along to see how things go. it's not in human nature that the old manager, even with the best disposition in the world, shouldn't knock the new one a little, and you're helen's new manager. when i want to make a change, i go about it like a crab--get rid of the old shell first, and then plunge right in and begin to do business with the new skin. it may be a little tender and open to attack at first, but it doesn't take long to toughen up when it finds out that the responsibility of protecting my white meat is on it. you start a woman with sense to making mistakes and you've started her to learning common-sense; but you let some one else shoulder her natural responsibilities and keep her from exercising her brain, and it'll be fat-witted before she's forty. a lot of girls find it mighty handy to start with mother to look after the housekeeping and later to raise the baby; but by and by, when mamma has to quit, they don't understand that the butcher has to be called down regularly for leaving those heavy ends on the steak or running in the shoulder chops on you, and that when willie has the croup she mustn't give the little darling a stiff hot scotch, or try to remove the phlegm from his throat with a button-hook. there are a lot of women in this world who think that there's only one side to the married relation, and that's their side. when one of them marries, she starts right out to train her husband into kind old carlo, who'll go downtown for her every morning and come home every night, fetching a snug little basketful of money in his mouth and wagging his tail as he lays it at her feet. then it's a pat on the head and "nice doggie." and he's taught to stand around evenings, retrieving her gloves and handkerchief, and snapping up with a pleased licking of his chops any little word that she may throw to him. but you let him start in to have a little fun scratching and stretching himself, or pawing her, and it's "charge, carlo!" and "bad doggie!" of course, no man ever believes when he marries that he's going to wind up as kind carlo, who droops his head so that the children can pull his ears, and who sticks up his paw so as to make it easier for his wife to pull his leg. but it's simpler than you think. as long as fond fathers slave and ambitious mothers sacrifice so that foolish daughters can hide the petticoats of poverty under a silk dress and crowd the doings of cheap society into the space in their heads which ought to be filled with plain, useful knowledge, a lot of girls are going to grow up with the idea that getting married means getting rid of care and responsibility instead of assuming it. a fellow can't play the game with a girl of this sort, because she can't play fair. he wants her love and a wife; she wants a provider, not a lover, and she takes him as a husband because she can't draw his salary any other way. but she can't return his affection, because her love is already given to another; and when husband and wife both love the same person, and that person is the wife, it's usually a life sentence at hard labor for the husband. if he wakes up a little and tries to assert himself after he's been married a year or so, she shudders and sobs until he sees what a brute he is; or if that doesn't work, and he still pretends to have a little spirit, she goes off into a rage and hysterics, and that usually brings him to heel again. it's a mighty curious thing how a woman who has the appetite and instincts of a turkey--buzzard will often make her husband believe that she's as high-strung and delicate as a canary-bird! it's been my experience that both men and women can fool each other before marriage, and that women can keep right along fooling men after marriage, but that as soon as the average man gets married he gets found out. after a woman has lived in the same house with a man for a year, she knows him like a good merchant knows his stock, down to any shelf-worn and slightly damaged morals which he may be hiding behind fresher goods in the darkest corner of his immortal soul. but even if she's married to a fellow who's so mean that he'd take the pennies off a dead man's eyes (not because he needed the money, but because he hadn't the change handy for a two-cent stamp), she'll never own up to the worst about him, even to herself, till she gets him into a divorce court. i simply mention these things in a general way. helen has shown signs of loving you, and you've never shown any symptoms of hating yourself, so i'm not really afraid that you're going to get the worst of it now. so far as i can see, your mother-in-law is the only real trouble that you have married. but don't you make the mistake of criticizing her to helen or of quarrelling with her. i'll attend to both for the family. you simply want to dodge when she leads with the right, take your full ten seconds on the floor, and come back with your left cheek turned toward her, though, of course, you'll yank it back out of reach just before she lands on it. there's nothing like using a little diplomacy in this world, and, so far as women are concerned, diplomacy is knowing when to stay away. and a diplomatist is one who lets the other fellow think he's getting his way, while all the time _he's_ having his own. it never does any special harm to let people have their way with their mouths. what you want to do is to keep mother-in-law from mixing up in your family affairs until after she gets used to the disgrace of having a pork-packer for a son-in-law, and helen gets used to pulling in harness with you. then mother'll mellow up into a nice old lady who'll brag about you to the neighbors. but until she gets to this point, you've got to let her hurt your feelings without hurting hers. don't you ever forget that helen's got a mother-in-law, too, and that it's some one you think a heap of. whenever i hear of a fellow's being found out by his wife, it always brings to mind the case of dick hodgkins, whom i knew when i was a young fellow, back in missouri. dickie was one of a family of twelve, who all ran a little small any way you sized them up, and he was the runt. like most of these little fellows, when he came to match up for double harness, he picked out a six-footer, kate miggs. used to call her honeybunch, i remember, and she called him doodums. honeybunch was a good girl, but she was as strong as a six-mule team, and a cautious man just naturally shied away from her. was a pretty free stepper in the mazes of the dance, and once, when she was balancing partners with doodums, she kicked out sort of playful to give him a love pat and fetched him a clip with her tootsey that gave him water on the kneepan. it ought to have been a warning to doodums, but he was plumb infatuated, and went around pretending that he'd been kicked by a horse. after that the boys used to make honeybunch mighty mad when she came out of dark corners with doodums, by feeling him to see if any of his ribs were broken. still he didn't take the hint, and in the end she led him to the altar. we started in to give them a lovely shivaree after the wedding, beginning with a sort of yell which had been invented by the only fellow in town who had been to college. as i remember, it ran something like this: _hun, hun, hunch! bun, bun, bunch! funny, funny! honey, honey! funny honeybunch!_ but as soon as we got this off, and before we could begin on the dishpan chorus, honeybunch came at us with a couple of bed-slats and cleaned us all out. before he had married, doodums had been one of half a dozen half-baked sports who drank cheap whisky and played expensive poker at the dutchman's; and after he'd held honeybunch in his lap evenings for a month, he reckoned one night that he'd drop down street and look in on the boys. honeybunch reckoned not, and he didn't press the matter, but after they'd gone to bed and she'd dropped off to sleep, he slipped into his clothes and down the waterspout to the ground. he sat up till two o'clock at the dutchman's, and naturally, the next morning he had a breath like a gasoline runabout, and looked as if he'd been attending a successful coon-hunt in the capacity of the coon. honeybunch smelt his breath and then she smelt a mouse, but she wasn't much of a talker and she didn't ask any questions--of him. but she had brother jim make some inquiries, and a few days later, when doodums complained of feeling all petered out and wanted to go to bed early, she was ready for him. honeybunch wasn't any invalid, and when she went to bed it was to sleep, so she rigged up a simple little device in the way of an alarm and dropped off peacefully, while doodums pretended to. when she began to snore in her upper register and to hit the high c, he judged the coast was clear, and leaped lightly out of bed. even before he'd struck the floor he knew there'd been a horrible mistake somewhere, for he felt a tug as if he'd hooked a hundred-pound catfish. there was an awful ripping and tearing sound, something fetched loose, and his wife was sitting up in bed blinking at him in the moonlight. it seemed that just before she went to sleep she'd pinned her nightgown to his with a safety pin, which wasn't such a bad idea for a simple, trusting, little village maiden. "was you wantin' anything, duckie doodums?" she asked in a voice like the running of sap in maple-sugar time. "n-n-nothin' but a drink of water, honeybunch sweetness," he stammered back. [illustration: "n-n-nothin' but a drink of water"] "you're sure you ain't mistook in your thirst and that it ain't a suddint cravin' for licker, and that you ain't sort of p'intin' down the waterspout for the dutchman's, duckie doodums?" "shorely not, honeybunch darlin'," he finally fetched up, though he was hardly breathing. "because your ma told me that you was given to somnambulasticatin' in your sleep, and that i must keep you tied up nights or you'd wake up some mornin' at the foot of a waterspout with your head bust open and a lot of good licker spilt out on the grass." "don't you love your doodums anymore?" was all dickie could find to say to this; but honeybunch had too much on her mind to stop and swap valentines just then. "you wouldn't deceive your honeybunch, would you, duckie doodums?" "i shorely would not." "well, don't you do it, duckie doodums, because it would break my heart; and if you should break my heart i'd just naturally bust your head. are you listenin', doodums?" doodums was listening. "then you come back to bed and stay there." doodums never called his wife honeybunch after that. generally it was kate, and sometimes it was kitty, and when she wasn't around it was usually kitty-cat. but he minded better than anything i ever met on less than four legs. your affectionate father, john graham. p.s.--you might tear up this letter. no. from john graham, at the union stock yards, chicago, to his son, pierrepont, at yemassee-on-the-tallahassee. in replying to his father's hint that it is time to turn his thoughts from love to lard, the young man has quoted a french sentence, and the old man has been both pained and puzzled by it. viii chicago, january , -. _dear pierrepont_: i had to send your last letter to the fertilizer department to find out what it was all about. we've got a clerk there who's an oxford graduate, and who speaks seven languages for fifteen dollars a week, or at the rate of something more than two dollars a language. of course, if you're such a big thinker that your ideas rise to the surface too fast for one language to hold 'em all, it's a mighty nice thing to know seven; but it's been my experience that seven spread out most men so thin that they haven't anything special to say in any of them. these fellows forget that while life's a journey, it isn't a palace-car trip for most of us, and that if they hit the trail packing a lot of weight for which they haven't any special use, they're not going to get very far. you learn men and what men should do, and how they should do it, and then if you happen to have any foreigners working for you, you can hire a fellow at fifteen per to translate hustle to 'em into their own fool language. it's always been my opinion that everybody spoke american while the tower of babel was building, and that the lord let the good people keep right on speaking it. so when you've got anything to say to me, i want you to say it in language that will grade regular on the chicago board of trade. some men fail from knowing too little, but more fail from knowing too much, and still more from knowing it all. it's a mighty good thing to understand french if you can use it to some real purpose, but when all the good it does a fellow is to help him understand the foreign cuss-words in a novel, or to read a story which is so tough that it would make the queen's english or any other ladylike language blush, he'd better learn hog-latin! he can be just the same breed of yellow dog in it, and it don't take so much time to pick it up. never ask a man what he knows, but what he can do. a fellow may know everything that's happened since the lord started the ball to rolling, and not be able to do anything to help keep it from stopping. but when a man can do anything, he's bound to know something worth while. books are all right, but dead men's brains are no good unless you mix a live one's with them. it isn't what a man's got in the bank, but what he's got in his head, that makes him a great merchant. rob a miser's safe and he's broke; but you can't break a big merchant with a jimmy and a stick of dynamite. the first would have to start again just where he began--hoarding up pennies; the second would have his principal assets intact. but accumulating knowledge or piling up money, just to have a little more of either than the next fellow, is a fool game that no broad-gauged man has time enough to sit in. too much learning, like too much money, makes most men narrow. i simply mention these things in a general way. you know blame well that i don't understand any french, and so when you spring it on me you are simply showing a customer the wrong line of goods. it's like trying to sell our pickled luncheon tidbits to a fellow in the black belt who doesn't buy anything but plain dry-salt hog in hunks and slabs. it makes me a little nervous for fear you'll be sending out a lot of letters to the trade some day, asking them if their stock of porkuss americanuss isn't running low. the world is full of bright men who know all the right things to say and who say them in the wrong place. a young fellow always thinks that if he doesn't talk he seems stupid, but it's better to shut up and seem dull than to open up and prove yourself a fool. it's a pretty good rule to show your best goods last. whenever i meet one of those fellows who tells you all he knows, and a good deal that he doesn't know, as soon as he's introduced to you, i always think of bill harkness, who kept a temporary home for broken-down horses--though he didn't call it that--back in missouri. bill would pick up an old critter whose par value was the price of one horse-hide, and after it had been pulled and shoved into his stable, the boys would stand around waiting for crape to be hung on the door. but inside a week bill would be driving down main street behind that horse, yelling whoa! at the top of his voice while it tried to kick holes in the dashboard. bill had a theory that the ten commandments were suspended while a horse-trade was going on, so he did most of his business with strangers. caught a northerner nosing round his barn one day, and inside of ten minutes the fellow was driving off behind what bill described as "the peartest piece of ginger and cayenne in pike county." bill just made a free gift of it to the yankee, he said, but to keep the transaction from being a piece of pure charity he accepted fifty dollars from him. the stranger drove all over town bragging of his bargain, until some one casually called his attention to the fact that the mare was stone-blind. then he hiked back to bill's and went for him in broken bostonese, winding up with: "what the skip-two-and-carry-one do you mean, you old hold-your-breath-and-take-ten-swallows, by stealing my good money. didn't you know the horse was blind? why didn't you tell me?" "yep," bill bit off from his piece of store plug; "i reckon i knew the hoss was blind, but you see the feller i bought her of"--and he paused to settle his chaw--"asked me not to mention it. you wouldn't have me violate a confidence as affected the repertashun of a pore dumb critter, and her of the opposite sect, would you?" and the gallant bill turned scornfully away from the stranger. there were a good many holes in bill's methods, but he never leaked information through them; and when i come across a fellow who doesn't mention it when he's asked not to, i come pretty near letting him fix his own salary. it's only a mighty big man that doesn't care whether the people whom he meets believe that he's big; but the smaller a fellow is, the bigger he wants to appear. he hasn't anything of his own in his head that's of any special importance, so just to prove that he's a trusted employee, and in the confidence of the boss, he gives away everything he knows about the business, and, as that isn't much, he lies a little to swell it up. it's a mighty curious thing how some men will lie a little to impress people who are laughing at them; will drink a little in order to sit around with people who want to get away from them; and will even steal a little to "go into society" with people who sneer at them. the most important animal in the world is a turkey-cock. you let him get among the chickens on the manure pile behind the barn, with his wings held down stiff, his tail feathers stuck up starchy, his wish-bone poked out perky, and gobbling for room to show his fancy steps, and he's a mighty impressive fowl. but a small boy with a rock and a good aim can make him run a mile. when you see a fellow swelling up and telling his firm's secrets, holler cash! and you'll stampede him back to his hall bedroom. i dwell a little on this matter of loose talking, because it breaks up more firms and more homes than any other one thing i know. the father of lies lives in hell, but he spends a good deal of his time in chicago. you'll find him on the board of trade when the market's wobbling, saying that the russians are just about to eat up turkey, and that it'll take twenty million bushels of our wheat to make the bread for the sandwich; and down in the street, asking if you knew that the cashier of the teenth national was leading a double life as a single man in the suburbs and a singular life for a married man in the city; and out on prairie avenue, whispering that it's too bad mabel smokes turkish cigarettes, for she's got such pretty curly hair; and how sad it is that daisy and dan are going to separate, "but they do say that he--sh! sh! hush; here she comes." yet, when you come to wash your pan of dirt, and the lies have all been carried off down the flume, and you've got the color of the few particles of solid, eighteen-carat truth left, you'll find it's the sultan who's smoking turkish cigarettes; and that mabel is trying cubebs for her catarrh; and that the cashier of the teenth national belongs to a whist club in the suburbs and is the superintendent of a sunday-school in the city; and that dan has put daisy up to visiting her mother to ward off a threatened swoop down from the old lady; and that the czar hasn't done a blame thing except to become the father of another girl baby. it's pretty hard to know how to treat a lie when it's about yourself. you can't go out of your way to deny it, because that puts you on the defensive; and sending the truth after a lie that's got a running start is like trying to round up a stampeded herd of steers while the scare is on them. lies are great travellers, and welcome visitors in a good many homes, and no questions asked. truth travels slowly, has to prove its identity, and then a lot of people hesitate to turn out an agreeable stranger to make room for it. about the only way i know to kill a lie is to live the truth. when your credit is doubted, don't bother to deny the rumors, but discount your bills. when you are attacked unjustly, avoid the appearance of evil, but avoid also the appearance of being too good--that is, better than usual. a man can't be too good, but he can appear too good. surmise and suspicion feed on the unusual, and when a man goes about his business along the usual rut, they soon fade away for lack of nourishment. first and last every fellow gets a lot of unjust treatment in this world, but when he's as old as i am and comes to balance his books with life and to credit himself with the mean things which weren't true that have been said about him, and to debit himself with the mean things which were true that people didn't get on to or overlooked, he'll find that he's had a tolerably square deal. this world has some pretty rotten spots on its skin, but it's sound at the core. there are two ways of treating gossip about other people, and they're both good ways. one is not to listen to it, and the other is not to repeat it. then there's young buck pudden's wife's way, and that's better than either, when you're dealing with some of these old heifers who browse over the range all day, stuffing themselves with gossip about your friends, and then round up at your house to chew the cud and slobber fake sympathy over you. buck wasn't a bad fellow at heart, for he had the virtue of trying to be good, but occasionally he would walk in slippery places. wasn't very sure-footed, so he fell down pretty often, and when he fell from grace it usually cracked the ice. still, as he used to say, when he shot at the bar mirrors during one of his periods of temporary elevation, he paid for what he broke--cash for the mirrors and sweat and blood for his cussedness. then one day buck met the only woman in the world--a mighty nice girl from st. jo--and she was hesitating over falling in love with him, till the gossips called to tell her that he was a dear, lovely fellow, and wasn't it too bad that he had such horrid habits? that settled it, of course, and she married him inside of thirty days, so that she could get right down to the business of reforming him. i don't, as a usual thing, take much stock in this marrying men to reform them, because a man's always sure of a woman when he's married to her, while a woman's never really afraid of losing a man till she's got him. when you want to teach a dog new tricks, it's all right to show him the biscuit first, but you'll usually get better results by giving it to him after the performance. but buck's wife fooled the whole town and almost put the gossips out of business by keeping buck straight for a year. she allowed that what he'd been craving all the time was a home and family, and that his rare-ups came from not having 'em. then, like most reformers, she overdid it--went and had twins. buck thought he owned the town, of course, and that would have been all right if he hadn't included the saloons among his real estate. had to take his drinks in pairs, too, and naturally, when he went home that night and had another look at the new arrivals, he thought they were quadruplets. buck straightened right out the next day, went to his wife and told her all about it, and that was the last time he ever had to hang his head when he talked to her, for he never took another drink. you see, she didn't reproach him, or nag him--simply said that she was mighty proud of the way he'd held on for a year, and that she knew she could trust him now for another ten. man was made a little lower than the angels, the good book says, and i reckon that's right; but he was made a good while ago, and he hasn't kept very well. yet there are a heap of women in this world who are still right in the seraphim class. when your conscience doesn't tell you what to do in a matter of right and wrong, ask your wife. naturally, the story of buck's final celebration came to the gossips like a thousand-barrel gusher to a drilling outfit that's been finding dusters, and they went one at a time to tell mrs. buck all the dreadful details and how sorry they were for her. she would just sit and listen till they'd run off the story, and hemstitched it, and embroidered it, and stuck fancy rosettes all over it. then she'd smile one of those sweet baby smiles that women give just before the hair-pulling begins, and say: "law, mrs. wiggleford"--the deacon's wife was the one who was condoling with her at the moment--"people will talk about the best of us. seems as if no one is safe nowadays. why, they lie about the deacon, even. i know it ain't true, and you know it ain't true, but only yesterday somebody was trying to tell me that it was right strange how a professor and a deacon got that color in his beak, and while it might be inflammatory veins or whatever he claimed it was, she reckoned that, if he'd let some one else tend the alcohol barrel, he wouldn't have to charge up so much of his stock to leakage and evaporation." of course, mrs. buck had made up the story about the deacon, because every one knew that he was too mean to drink anything that he could sell, but by the time buck's wife had finished, mrs. wiggleford was so busy explaining and defending him that she hadn't any further interest in buck's case. and each one that called was sent away with a special piece of home scandal which mrs. buck had invented to keep her mind from dwelling on her neighbor's troubles. she followed up her system, too, and in the end it got so that women would waste good gossip before they'd go to her with it. for if the pastor's wife would tell her "as a true friend" that the report that she had gone to the theatre in st. louis was causing a scandal, she'd thank her for being so sweetly thoughtful, and ask if nothing was sacred enough to be spared by the tongue of slander, though she, for one, didn't believe that there was anything in the malicious talk that the doc was cribbing those powerful sunday evening discourses from a volume of beecher's sermons. and when they'd press her for the name of her informant, she'd say: "no, it was a lie; she knew it was a lie, and no one who sat under the dear pastor would believe it; and they mustn't dignify it by noticing it." as a matter of fact, no one who sat under doc pottle would have believed it, for his sermons weren't good enough to have been cribbed; and if beecher could have heard one of them he would have excommunicated him. buck's wife knew how to show goods. when buck himself had used up all the cuss-words in missouri on his conduct, she had sense enough to know that his stock of trouble was full, and that if she wanted to get a hold on him she mustn't show him stripes, but something in cheerful checks. yet when the trouble-hunters looked her up, she had a full line of samples of their favorite commodity to show them. i simply mention these things in a general way. seeing would naturally be believing, if cross-eyed people were the only ones who saw crooked, and hearing will be believing when deaf people are the only ones who don't hear straight. it's a pretty safe rule, when you hear a heavy yarn about any one, to allow a fair amount for tare, and then to verify your weights. your affectionate father, john graham. p.s.--i think you'd better look in at a few of the branch houses on your way home and see if you can't make expenses. no. from john graham, at the union stock yards, chicago, to his son, pierrepont, care of graham & company's brokers, atlanta. following the old man's suggestion, the young man has rounded out the honeymoon into a harvest moon, and is sending in some very satisfactory orders to the house. ix chicago, february , -. _dear pierrepont_: judging from the way the orders are coming in, i reckon that you must be lavishing a little of your surplus ardor on the trade. so long as you are in such good practise, and can look a customer in the eye and make him believe that he's the only buyer you ever really loved, you'd better not hurry home too fast. i reckon helen won't miss you for a few hours every day, but even if she should it's a mighty nice thing to be missed, and she's right there where you can tell her every night that you love her just the same; while the only way in which you can express your unchanged affection for the house is by sending us lots of orders. if you do that you needn't bother to write and send us lots of love. the average buyer is a good deal like the heiress to a million dollars who's been on the market for eight or ten years, not because there's no demand for her, but because there's too much. most girls whose capital of good looks is only moderate, marry, and marry young, because they're like a fellow on 'change who's scalping the market--not inclined to take chances, and always ready to make a quick turn. old maids are usually the girls who were so homely that they never had an offer, or so good-looking that they carried their matrimonial corner from one option to another till the new crop came along and bust them. but a girl with a million dollars isn't a speculative venture. she can advertise for sealed proposals on her fiftieth birthday and be oversubscribed like an issue of per cent. government bonds. there's no closed season on heiresses, and, naturally, a bird that can't stick its head up without getting shot at becomes a pretty wary old fowl. a buyer is like your heiress--he always has a lot of nice young drummers flirting and fooling around him, but mighty few of them are so much in earnest that they can convince him that their only chance for happiness lies in securing his particular order. but you let one of these dead-in-earnest boys happen along, and the first thing you know he's persuaded the heiress that he loves her for herself alone or has eloped from town with an order for a car-load of lard. a lot of young men start off in business with an idea that they must arm themselves with the same sort of weapons that their competitors carry. there's nothing in it. fighting the devil with fire is all foolishness, because that's the one weapon with which he's more expert than any one else. i usually find that it's pretty good policy to oppose suspicion with candor, foxiness with openness, indifference with earnestness. when you deal squarely with a crooked man you scare him to death, because he thinks you're springing some new and extra-deep game on him. a fellow who's subject to cramps and chills has no business in the water, but if you start to go in swimming, go in all over. don't be one of those chappies who prance along the beach, shivering and showing their skinny shapes, and then dabble their feet in the surf, pour a little sand in their hair, and think they've had a bath. you mustn't forget, though, that it's just as important to know when to come out as when to dive in. i mention this because yesterday some one who'd run across you at yemassee told me that you and helen were exchanging the grip of the third degree under the breakfast-table, and trying to eat your eggs with your left hands. of course, this is all very right and proper if you can keep it up, but i've known a good many men who would kiss their wives on the honeymoon between swallows of coffee and look like an ass a year later when she chirruped out at the breakfast-table, "do you love me, darling?" i'm just a little afraid that you're one of those fellows who wants to hold his wife in his lap during the first six months of his married life, and who, when she asks him at the end of a year if he loves her, answers "sure." i may be wrong about this, but i've noticed a tendency on your part to slop over a little, and a pail that slops over soon empties itself. it's been my experience that most women try to prove their love by talking about it, and most men by spending money. but when a pocketbook or a mouth is opened too often nothing but trouble is left in it. don't forget the little attentions due your wife, but don't hurt the grocer's feelings or treat the milkman with silent contempt in order to give them to her. you can hock your overcoat before marriage to buy violets for a girl, but when she has the run of your wardrobe you can't slap your chest and explain that you stopped wearing it because you're so warm-blooded. a sensible woman soon begins to understand that affection can be expressed in porterhouse steaks as well as in american beauties. but when charlie, on twenty-five a week, marries a fool, she pouts and says that he doesn't love her just the same because he takes her to the theatre now in the street-cars, instead of in a carriage, as he used to in those happy days before they were married. as a matter of fact, this doesn't show that she's losing charlie's love, but that he's getting his senses back. it's been my experience that no man can really attend to business properly when he's chased to the office every morning by a crowd of infuriated florists and livery-men. of course, after a girl has spent a year of evenings listening to a fellow tell her that his great ambition is to make her life one grand, sweet song, it jars her to find the orchestra grunting and snoring over the sporting extra some night along six months after the ceremony. she stays awake and cries a little over this, so when he sees her across the liver and bacon at breakfast, he forgets that he's never told her before that she could look like anything but an angel, and asks, "gee, mame, what makes your nose so red?" and that's the place where a young couple begins to adjust itself to life as it's lived on michigan avenue instead of in the story-books. there's no rule for getting through the next six months without going back to mamma, except for the brute to be as kind as he knows how to be and the angel as forgiving as she can be. but at the end of that time a boy and girl with the right kind of stuff in them have been graduated into a man and a woman. it's only calf love that's always bellering about it. when love is full grown it has few words, and sometimes it growls them out. i remember, when i was a youngster, hearing old mrs. hoover tell of the trip she took with the doc just after they were married. even as a young fellow the doc was a great exhorter. knew more scripture when he was sixteen than the presiding elder. couldn't open his mouth without losing a verse. would lose a chapter when he yawned. well, when doc was about twenty-five, he fell in love with a mighty sweet young girl, leila hardin, who every one said was too frivolous for him. but the doc only answered that it was his duty to marry her to bring her under christian influences, and they set off down the river to new orleans on their honeymoon. mrs. hoover used to say that he hardly spoke to her on the trip. sat around in a daze, scowling and rolling his eyes, or charged up and down the deck, swinging his arms and muttering to himself. scared her half to death, and she spent all her time crying when he wasn't around. thought he didn't love her any more, and it wasn't till the first sunday after she got home that she discovered what had ailed him. seemed that in the exaltation produced by his happiness at having got her, he'd been composing a masterpiece, his famous sermon on the horrors of hell, that scared half of pike county into the fold, and popularized dominoes with penny points as a substitute for dollar-limit draw-poker among those whom it didn't quite fetch. curious old cuss, the doc. found his wife played the piano pretty medium rotten, so when he wanted to work himself into a rage about something he'd sit down in the parlor and make her pound out "the maiden's prayer." it's a mighty lucky thing that the lord, and not the neighbors, makes the matches, because doc's friends would have married him to deacon dody's daughter, who was so chuck full of good works that there was no room inside her for a heart. she afterward eloped with a st. louis drummer, and before he divorced her she'd become the best lady poker player in the state of missouri. but with leila and the doc it was a case of give-and-take from the start--that is, as is usual with a good many married folks, she'd give and he'd take. there never was a better minister's wife, and when you've said that you've said the last word about good wives and begun talking about martyrs, because after a minister's wife has pleased her husband she's got to please the rest of the church. i simply mention doc's honeymoon in passing as an example of the fact that two people can start out in life without anything in common apparently, except a desire to make each other happy, and, with that as a platform to meet on, keep coming closer and closer together until they find that they have everything in common. it isn't always the case, of course, but then it's happened pretty often that before i entered the room where an engaged couple were sitting i've had to cough or whistle to give them a chance to break away; and that after they were married i've had to keep right on coughing or whistling for the same couple to give them time to stop quarreling. there are mighty few young people who go into marriage with any real idea of what it means. they get their notion of it from among the clouds where they live while they are engaged, and, naturally, about all they find up there is wind and moonshine; or from novels, which always end just before the real trouble begins, or if they keep on, leave out the chapters that tell how the husband finds the rent and the wife the hired girls. but if there's one thing in the world about which it's possible to get all the facts, it's matrimony. part of them are right in the house where you were born, and the neighbors have the rest. it's been my experience that you've got to have leisure to be unhappy. half the troubles in this world are imaginary, and it takes time to think them up. but it's these oftener than the real troubles that break a young husband's back or a young wife's heart. a few men and more women can be happy idle when they're single, but once you marry them to each other they've got to find work or they'll find trouble. everybody's got to raise something in this world, and unless people raise a job, or crops, or children, they'll raise cain. you can ride three miles on the trolley car to the stock yards every morning and find happiness at the end of the trip, but you may chase it all over the world in a steam yacht without catching up with it. a woman can find fun from the basement to the nursery of her own house, but give her a license to gad the streets and a bunch of matinée tickets and shell find discontent. there's always an idle woman or an idle man in every divorce case. when the man earns the bread in the sweat of his brow, it's right that the woman should perspire a little baking it. there are two kinds of discontent in this world--the discontent that works and the discontent that wrings its hands. the first gets what it wants, and the second loses what it has. there's no cure for the first but success; and there's no cure at all for the second, especially if a woman has it; for she doesn't know what she wants, and so you can't give it to her. happiness is like salvation--a state of grace that makes you enjoy the good things you've got and keep reaching out, for better ones in the hereafter. and home isn't what's around you, but what's inside you. i had a pretty good illustration of this whole thing some years ago when a foolish old uncle died and left my cellar boss, mike shaughnessy, a million dollars. i didn't bother about it particularly, for he'd always been a pretty level-headed old mick, and i supposed that he'd put the money in pickle and keep right along at his job. but one morning, when he came rooting and grunting into my office in a sort of casual way, trying to keep a plug hat from falling off the back of his head, i knew that he was going to fly the track. started in to tell me that his extensive property interests demanded all his attention now, but i cut it short with: "mike, you've been a blamed good cellar boss, but you're going to make a blamed bad millionaire. think it over." well, sir, i'm hanged if that fellow, whom i'd raised from the time he was old enough to poke a barrel along the runways with a pointed stick, didn't blow a cloud of cigar smoke in my face to show that he was just as big as i was, and start tight in to regularly cuss me out. but he didn't get very far. i simply looked at mm, and said sudden, "git, you mick," and he wilted back out of the office just as easy as if he hadn't had ten cents. i heard of him off and on for the next year, putting up a house on michigan avenue, buying hand-painted pictures by the square foot and paying for them by the square inch--for his wife had decided that they must occupy their proper station in society--and generally building up a mighty high rating as a good thing. as you know, i keep a pretty close eye on the packing house, but on account of my rheumatism i don't often go through the cellars. but along about this time we began to get so many complaints about our dry salt meats that i decided to have a little peek at our stock for myself, and check up the new cellar boss. i made for him and his gang first, and i was mightily pleased, as i came upon him without his seeing me, to notice how he was handling his men. no hollering, or yelling, or cussing, but every word counting and making somebody hop. i was right upon him before i discovered that it wasn't the new foreman, but mike, who was bossing the gang. he half ducked behind a pile of extra short clears when he saw me, but turned, when he found that it was too late, and faced me bold as brass. "a nice state you've let things get in while i was away, sorr," he began. it was mike, the cellar boss, who knew his job, and no longer mr. shaughnessy, the millionaire, who didn't know his, that was talking, so i wasn't too inquisitive, and only nodded. "small wonder," he went on, "that crime's incr'asing an' th' cotton crop's decreasing in the black belt, when you're sendin' such mate to the poor naygurs. why don't you git a cellar man that's been raised with the hogs, an' 'll treat 'em right when they're dead?" "i'm looking for one," says i. "i know a likely lad for you," says he. "report to the superintendent," says i; and mike's been with me ever since. i found out when i looked into it that for a week back he'd been paying the new cellar boss ten dollars a day to lay around outside while he bossed his job. mike sold his old masters to a saloon-keeper and moved back to packingtown, where he invested all his money in houses, from which he got a heap of satisfaction, because, as his tenants were compatriots, he had plenty of excitement collecting his rents. like most people who fall into fortunes suddenly, he had bought a lot of things, not because he needed them or really wanted them, but because poorer people couldn't have them. yet in the end he had sense enough to see that happiness can't be inherited, but that it must be earned. being a millionaire is a trade like a doctor's--you must work up through every grade of earning, saving, spending and giving, or you're no more fit to be trusted with a fortune than a quack with human life. for there's no trade in the world, except the doctor's, on which the lives and the happiness of so many people depend as the millionaire's; and i might add that there's no other in which there's so much malpractice. your affectionate father, john graham. no. from john graham, at mount clematis, michigan, to his son, pierrepont, at the union stock yards, chicago. the young man has done famously during the first year of his married life, and the old man has decided to give him a more important position. x mount clematis, january , . _dear pierrepont_: since i got here, my rheumatism has been so bad mornings that the attendant who helps me dress has had to pull me over to the edge of the bed by the seat of my pajamas. if they ever give way, i reckon i'll have to stay in bed all day. as near as i can figure out from what the doctor says, the worse you feel during the first few days you're taking the baths, the better you really are. i suppose that when a fellow dies on their hands they call it a cure. i'm by the worst of it for to-day, though, because i'm downstairs. just now the laugh is on an old boy with benevolent side-whiskers, who's sliding down the balusters, and a fat old party, who looks like a bishop, that's bumping his way down with his feet sticking out straight in front of him. shy away from these things that end in an ism, my boy. from skepticism to rheumatism they've an ache or a pain in every blamed joint. still, i don't want to talk about my troubles, but about your own. barton leaves us on the first, and so we shall need a new assistant general manager for the business. it's a ten-thousand-dollar job, and a nine-thousand-nine-hundred-and-ninety-nine-dollar man can't fill it. from the way in which you've handled your department during the past year, i'm inclined to think that you can deliver that last dollar's worth of value. anyway, i'm going to try you, and you've got to make good, because if you should fail it would be a reflection on my judgment as a merchant and a blow to my pride as a father. i could bear up under either, but the combination would make me feel like firing you. as a matter of fact, i can't make you general manager; all i can do is to give you the title of general manager. and a title is like a suit of clothes--it must fit the man who tries to wear it. i can clothe you in a little brief authority, as your old college friend, shakespeare, puts it, but i can't keep people from laughing at you when they see you swelling around in your high-water pants. it's no use demanding respect in this world; you've got to command it. there's old jim wharton, who, for acting as a fourth-class consul of a fifth-class king, was decorated with the order of the garter or the suspender or the eagle of the sixth class--the kind these kings give to the cook when he gets just the right flavor of garlic in a fancy sauce. jim never did a blame thing in his life except to inherit a million dollars from a better man, who happened to come over on the cunard line instead of the mayflower, but he'd swell around in our best society, with that ribbon on his shirt-front, thinking that he looked like prince rupert by louis the fourteenth and lady clara vere de vere, instead of the fourth assistant to the floor manager at the plumbers' ball. but you take tom lipton, who was swelled up into sir thomas because he discovered how to pack a genuine yorkshire ham in chicago, and a handle looks as natural on him as on a lard pail. a man is a good deal like a horse--he knows the touch of a master, and no matter how lightly the reins are held over him, he understands that he must behave. but let a fellow who isn't quite sure of himself begin sawing on a horse's mouth, and the first thing you know the critter bucks and throws him. you've only one pair of eyes with which to watch , men, so unless they're open all the time you'll be apt to overlook something here and there; but you'll have , pairs of eyes watching you all the time, and they won't overlook anything. you mustn't be known as an easy boss, or as a hard boss, but as a just boss. of course, some just men lean backward toward severity, and some stoop down toward mercy. both kinds may make good bosses, but i've usually found that when you hold the whip hand it's a great thing not to use the whip. it looks like a pretty large contract to know what , men are doing, but, as a matter of fact, there's nothing impossible about it. in the first place, you don't need to bother very much about the things that are going all right, except to try to make them go a little better; but you want to spend your time smelling out the things that are going all wrong and laboring with them till you've persuaded them to lead a better life. for this reason, one of the most important duties of your job is to keep track of everything that's out of the usual. if anything unusually good happens, there's an unusually good man behind it, and he ought to be earmarked for promotion; and if anything unusually bad happens, there's apt to be an unusually bad man behind that, and he's a candidate for a job with another house. a good many of these things which it's important for you to know happen a little before beginning and a little after quitting time; and so the real reason why the name of the boss doesn't appear on the time-sheet is not because he's a bigger man than any one else in the place, but because there shouldn't be any one around to take his time when he gets down and when he leaves. you can tell a whole lot about your men from the way in which they come in and the way in which they go home; but because a fellow is in the office early, it doesn't always mean that he's panting to begin work; it may mean that he's been out all night. and when you see a fellow poring over his books after the others have quit, it doesn't always follow that he's so wrapped up in his work that he can't tear himself away from it. it may mean that during business hours he had his head full of horse-racing instead of figures, and that he's staying to chase up the thirty cents which he's out in his balance. you want to find out which. the extra-poor men and the extra-good men always stick their heads up above the dead-level of good-enough men; the first to holler for help, and the second to get an extra reach. and when your attention is attracted to one of these men, follow him up and find out just what sort of soil and fertilizer he needs to grow fastest. it isn't enough to pick likely stock; you've got to plant it where the conditions are right to develop its particular possibilities. a fellow who's got the making of a five-thousand-dollar office man in him may not sell enough lard to fry a half-portion of small potatoes if you put him on the road. praise judiciously given may act on one man like an application of our bone-meal to a fruit tree, and bring out all the pippins that are in the wood; while in the other it may simply result in his going all to top. you mustn't depend too much on the judgment of department heads and foremen when picking men for promotion. take their selection if he is the best man, but know for yourself that he is the best man. sometimes a foreman will play a favorite, and, as any fellow who's been to the races knows, favorites ain't always winners. and sometimes, though not often, he'll try to hold back a good man through jealousy. when i see symptoms of a foreman's being jealous of a man under him, that fellow doesn't need any further recommendation to me. a man's never jealous of inferiority. it's a mighty valuable asset for a boss, when a vacancy occurs in a department, to be able to go to its head when he recommends bill smith for the position, and show that he knows all about bill smith from his number-twelve socks up to his six-and-a-quarter hat, and to ask: "what's the matter with tom jones for the job?" when you refuse to take something just as good in this world, you'll usually find that the next time you call the druggist has the original snicker's sassafras sneezer in stock. it's mighty seldom, though, that a really good man will complain to you that he's being held down, or that his superior is jealous of him. it's been my experience that it's only a mighty small head that so small an idea as this can fill. when a fellow has it, he's a good deal like one of those girls with the fatal gift of beauty in her imagination, instead of her face--always believing that the boys don't dance with her because the other girls tell them spiteful things about her. besides always having a man in mind for any vacancy that may occur, you want to make sure that there are two men in the office who understand the work of each position in it. every business should be bigger than any one man. if it isn't, there's a weak spot in it that will kill it in the end. and every job needs an understudy. sooner or later the star is bound to fall sick, or get the sulks or the swelled head, and then, if there's no one in the wings who knows her lines, the gallery will rotten-egg the show and howl for its money back. besides, it has a mighty chastening and stimulating effect on the star to know that if she balks there's a sweet young thing in reserve who's able and eager to go the distance. of course, i don't mean by this that you want to play one man against another or try to minimize to a good man his importance to the house. on the contrary, you want to dwell on the importance of all positions, from that of office-boy up, and make every man feel that he is a vital part of the machinery of the business, without letting him forget that there's a spare part lying around handy, and that if he breaks or goes wrong it can be fitted right in and the machine kept running. it's good human nature to want to feel that something's going to bust when you quit, but it's bad management if things are fixed so that anything can. in hiring new men, you want to depend almost altogether on your own eyes and your own judgment. remember that when a man's asking for a job he's not showing you himself, but the man whom he wants you to hire. for that reason, i never take on an applicant after a first interview. i ask him to call again. the second time he may not be made up so well, and he may have forgotten some of his lines. in any event, hell feel that he knows you a little better, and so act a little easier and talk a little freer. very often a man whom you didn't like on his first appearance will please you better on his second, because a lot of people always appear at their worst when they're trying to appear at their best. and again, when you catch a fellow off guard who seemed all right the first time, you may find that he deaconed himself for your benefit, and that all the big strawberries were on top. don't attach too much importance to the things which an applicant has a chance to do with deliberation, or pay too much attention to his nicely prepared and memorized speech about himself. watch the little things which he does unconsciously, and put unexpected questions which demand quick answers. if he's been working for dick saunders, it's of small importance what dick says of him in his letter of recommendation. if you want dick's real opinion, get it in some other way than in an open note, of which the subject's the bearer. as a matter of fact, dick's opinion shouldn't carry too much weight, except on a question of honesty, because if dick let him go, he naturally doesn't think a great deal of him; and if the man resigned voluntarily, dick is apt to feel a little sore about it. but your applicant's opinion of dick saunders is of very great importance to you. a good man never talks about a real grievance against an old employer to a new one; a poor man always pours out an imaginary grievance to any one who will listen. you needn't cheer in this world when you don't like the show, but silence is louder than a hiss. hire city men and country men; men who wear grandpa's sunday suit; thread-bare men and men dressed in those special four-ninety-eight bargains; but don't hire dirty men. time and soap will cure dirty boys, but a full-grown man who shrinks from the use of water externally is as hard to cure as one who avoids its use internally. it's a mighty curious thing that you can tell a man his morals are bad and he needs to get religion, and hell still remain your friend; but that if you tell him his linen's dirty and he needs to take a bath, you've made a mortal enemy. give the preference to the lean men and the middleweights. the world is full of smart and rich fat men, but most of them got their smartness and their riches before they got their fat. always appoint an hour at which you'll see a man, and if he's late a minute don't bother with him. a fellow who can be late when his own interests are at stake is pretty sure to be when yours are. have a scribbling pad and some good letter paper on a desk, and ask the applicant to write his name and address. a careful and economical man will use the pad, but a careless and wasteful fellow will reach for the best thing in sight, regardless of the use to which it's to be put. look in a man's eyes for honesty; around his mouth for weakness; at his chin for strength; at his hands for temperament; at his nails for cleanliness. his tongue will tell you his experience, and under the questioning of a shrewd employer prove or disprove its statements as it runs along. always remember, in the case of an applicant from another city, that when a man says he doesn't like the town in which he's been working it's usually because he didn't do very well there. you want to be just as careful about hiring boys as men. a lot of employers go on the theory that the only important thing about a boy is his legs, and if they're both fitted on and limber they hire him. as a matter of fact, a boy is like a stick of dynamite, small and compact, but as full of possibilities of trouble as a car-load of gunpowder. one bad boy in a sunday-school picnic can turn it into a rough-house outfit for looting orchards, and one little cuss in your office can demoralize your kids faster than you can fire them. i remember one boy who organized a secret society, called the mysterious league. it held meetings in our big vault, which they called the donjon keep, and, naturally, when one of them was going on, boys were scarcer around the office than hen's teeth. the object of the league, as i shook it out of the head leaguer by the ear, was to catch the head bookkeeper, whom the boys didn't like, and whom they called the black caitiff, alone in the vault some night while he was putting away his books, slam the door, and turn the combination on him. tucked away in a corner of the vault, they had a message for him, written in red ink, on a sheep's skull, telling him to tremble, that he was in the hands of the mysterious league, and that he would be led at midnight to the torture chamber. i learned afterward that when the bookkeeper had reached in his desk to get a pen, a few days before, he had pulled out a cold, clammy, pickled pig's foot, on which was printed: "beware! first you will lose a leg!" i simply mention the mysterious league in passing. of course, boys will be boys, but you mustn't let them be too cussed boyish during business hours. a slow boy can waste a lot of the time of a five-thousand-dollar man whose bell he's answering; and a careless boy can mislay a letter or drop a paper that will ball up the work of the most careful man in the office. it's really harder to tell what you're getting when you hire a boy than when you hire a man. i found that out for keeps a few years ago, when i took on the angel child. he was the son of rich parents, who weren't quite rich enough to buy chips and sit in the game of the no-limit millionaires. so they went in for what they called the simple life. i want to say right here that i'm a great believer in the simple life, but some people are so blamed simple about it that they're idiotic. the world is full of rich people who talk about leading the simple life when they mean the stingy life. they are the kind that are always giving poorer people a chance to chip in an even share with them toward defraying the expenses of the charities and the entertainments which they get up. they call it "affording those in humbler walks an opportunity to keep up their self-respect," but what they really mean is that it helps them to keep down their own expenses. the angel child's mother was one of these women who talk to people that aren't quite so rich as she in the tone of one who's commending a worthy charity; but who hangs on the words of a richer woman like a dog that hopes a piece of meat is going to be thrown at it, and yet isn't quite sure that it won't get a kick instead. as a side-line, she made a specialty of trying to uplift the masses, and her husband furnished the raw material for the uplifting, as he paid his men less and worked 'em harder than any one else in chicago. well, one day this woman came into my office, bringing her only son with her. he was a solemn little cuss, but i didn't get much chance to size him up, because his ma started right in to explain how he'd been raised--no whipping, no--but i cut it short there, and asked her to get down to brass tacks, as i was very busy trying to see that , , people were supplied with their daily pork. so she explained that she wanted me to give the angel child a job in my office during his summer vacation, so that he could see how the other half lived, and at the same time begin to learn self-reliance. i was just about to refuse, when it occurred to me that if he had never really had a first-class whipping it was a pity not to put him in the way of getting one. so i took him by the hand and led him to headquarters for whippings, the bench in the shipping department, where a pretty scrappy lot of boys were employed to run errands, and told the boss to take him on. i wasn't out of hearing before one kid said, "i choose him," and another, whom they called the breakfast-food baby, because he was so strong, answered, "naw; i seen him first." i dismissed the matter from my mind then, but a few days later, when i was walking through the shipping department, it occurred to me that i might as well view the remains of the angel child, if they hadn't been removed to his late residence. i found him sitting in the middle of the bench, looking a little sad and lonesome, but all there. the other boys seemed to be giving him plenty of room, and the breakfast-food baby, with both eyes blacked, had edged along to the end of the bench. i beckoned to the angel child to follow me to my private office. "what does this mean, young man?" i asked, when he got there. "have you been fighting?" "yes, sir," he answered, sort of brightening up. "which one?" "michael and patrick the first day, sir." "did you lick 'em?" "i had rather the better of it," he answered, as precise as a slice of cold-boiled boston. "and the second?" "why, the rest of 'em, sir." "including the breakfast-food--er, james?" he nodded. "james is very strong, sir, but he lacks science. he drew back as if he had a year to hit me, and just as he got good and ready to strike, i pasted him one in the snoot, and followed that up with a left jab in the eye." i hadn't counted on boxing lessons being on the bill of fare of the simple life, and it raised my hopes still further to see from that last sentence how we had grafted a little union stock yards on his back bay boston. in fact, my heart quite warmed to the lad; but i looked at him pretty severely, and only said: "mark you, young man, we don't allow any fighting around here; and if you can't get along without quarrelling with the boys in the shipping department, i'll have to bring you into these offices, where i can have an eye on your conduct." there were two or three boys in the main office who were spoiling for a thrashing, and i reckoned that the angel child would attend to their cases; and he did. he was cock of the walk in a week, and at the same time one of the bulliest, daisiest, most efficient, most respectful boys that ever worked for me. he put a little polish on the other kids, and they took a little of the extra shine off him. he's in harvard now, but when he gets out there's a job waiting for him, if he'll take it. that was a clear case of catching an angel on the fly, or of entertaining one unawares, as the boy would have put it, and it taught me not to consider my prejudices or his parents in hiring a boy, but to focus my attention on the boy himself, when he was the one who would have to run the errands. the simple life was a pose and pretense with the angel child's parents, and so they were only a new brand of snob; but the kid had been caught young and had taken it all in earnest; and so he was a new breed of boy, and a better one than i'd ever hired before. your affectionate father, john graham. no. from john graham, at mount clematis, michigan, to his son, pierrepont, at the union stock yards, chicago. the young man has sent the old man a dose of his own medicine, advice, and he is proving himself a good doctor by taking it. xi mount clematis, january , . _dear pierrepont_: they've boiled everything out of me except the original sin, and even that's a little bleached, and they've taken away my roll of yellow-backs, so i reckon they're about through with me here, for the present. but instead of returning to the office, i think i'll take your advice and run down to florida for a few weeks and have a "try at the tarpon," as you put it. i don't really need a tarpon, or want a tarpon, and i don't know what i could do with a tarpon if i hooked one, except to yell at him to go away; but i need a burned neck and a peeled nose, a little more zest for my food, and a little more zip about my work, if the interests of the american hog are going to be safe in my hands this spring. i don't seem to have so much luck as some fellows in hooking these fifty-pound fish lies, but i always manage to land a pretty heavy appetite and some big nights' sleep when i strike salt water. then i can go back to the office and produce results like a hen in april with eggs at eleven cents a dozen. [illustration: i don't really need a tarpon ... but i need a burned neck and a peeled nose] health is like any inheritance--you can spend the interest in work and play, but you mustn't break into the principal. once you do, and it's only a matter of time before you've got to place the remnants in the hands of a doctor as receiver; and receivers are mighty partial to fees and mighty slow to let go. but if you don't work with him to get the business back on a sound basis there's no such thing as any further voluntary proceedings, and the remnants become remains. it's a mighty simple thing, though, to keep in good condition, because about everything that makes for poor health has to get into you right under your nose. yet a fellow'll load up with pie and buckwheats for breakfast and go around wondering about his stomach-ache, as if it were a put-up job that had been played on him when he wasn't looking; or he'll go through his dinner pickling each course in a different brand of alcohol, and sob out on the butler's shoulder that the booze isn't as pure as it used to be when he was a boy; or he'll come home at midnight singing "the old oaken bucket," and act generally as if all the water in the world were in the well on the old homestead, and the mortgage on that had been foreclosed; or from p.m. to g.x. he'll sit in a small game with a large cigar, breathing a blend of light-blue cigarette smoke and dark-blue cuss-words, and next day, when his heart beats four and skips two, and he has that queer, hopping sensation in the knees, he'll complain bitterly to the other clerks that this confining office work is killing him. of course, with all the care in the world, a fellow's likely to catch things, but there's no sense in sending out invitations to a lot of miscellaneous microbes and pretending when they call that it's a surprise party. bad health hates a man who is friendly with its enemies--hard work, plain food, and pure air. more men die from worry than from overwork; more stuff themselves to death than die of starvation; more break their necks falling down the cellar stairs than climbing mountains. if the human animal reposed less confidence in his stomach and more in his legs, the streets would be full of healthy men walking down to business. remember that a man always rides to his grave; he never walks there. when i was a boy, the only doubt about the food was whether there would be enough of it; and there wasn't any doubt at all about the religion. if the pork barrel was full, father read a couple of extra psalms at morning prayers, to express our thankfulness; and if it was empty, he dipped into job for half an hour at evening prayers, to prove that we were better off than some folks. but you don't know what to eat these days, with one set of people saying that only beasts eat meat, and another that only cattle eat grain and green stuff; or what to believe, with one crowd claiming that there's nothing the matter with us, as the only matter that we've got is in our minds; and another crowd telling us not to mind what the others say, because they've got something the matter with their minds. i reckon that what this generation really needs is a little less pie and a little more piety. i dwell on this matter of health, because when the stomach and liver ain't doing good work, the brain can't. a good many men will say that it's none of your business what they do in their own time, but you want to make it your business, so long as it affects what they do in your time. for this reason, you should never hire men who drink after office hours; for it's their time that gets the effects, and your time that gets the after-effects. even if a boss grants that there's fun in drinking, it shouldn't take him long to discover that he's getting the short end of it, when all the clerks can share with him in the morning is the head and the hangover. i might add that i don't like the effects of drinking any more than the after-effects; and for this reason you should never hire men who drink during business hours. when a fellow adds up on whisky, he's apt to see too many figures; and when he subtracts on beer, he's apt to see too few. it may have been the case once that when you opened up a bottle for a customer he opened up his heart, but booze is a mighty poor salesman nowadays. it takes more than a corkscrew to draw out a merchant's order. most of the men who mixed their business and their drinks have failed, and the new owners take their business straight. of course, some one has to pay for the drinks that a drummer sets up. the drummer can't afford it on his salary; the house isn't really in the hospitality business; so, in the end, the buyer always stands treat. he may not see it in his bill for goods, but it's there, and the smart ones have caught on to it. after office hours, the number of drinks a fellow takes may make a difference in the result to his employer, but during business hours the effect of one is usually as bad as half a dozen. a buyer who drinks hates a whisky breath when he hasn't got one himself, and a fellow who doesn't drink never bothers to discover whether he's being talked to by a simple or a compound breath. he knows that some men who drink are unreliable, and that unreliable men are apt to represent unreliable houses and to sell unreliable goods, and he hasn't the time or the inclination to stop and find out that this particular salesman has simply had a mild snort as an appetizer and a gentle soother as a digester. so he doesn't get an order, and the house gets a black eye. this is a very, very busy world, and about the only person who is really interested in knowing just how many a fellow has had is his wife, and she won't always believe him. naturally, when you expect so much from your men, they have a right to expect a good deal from you. if you want them to feel that your interests are theirs, you must let them see that their interests are yours. there are a lot of fellows in the world who are working just for glory, but they are mostly poets, and you needn't figure on finding many of them out at the stock yards. praise goes a long way with a good man, and some employers stop there; but cash goes the whole distance, and if you want to keep your growing men with you, you mustn't expect them to do all the growing. small salaries make slow workers and careless clerks; because it isn't hard to get an underpaid job. but a well-paid man sticketh closer than a little brother-in-law-to-be to the fellow who brings the candy. for this reason, when i close the books at the end of the year, i always give every one, from the errand boys up, a bonus based on the size of his salary and my profits. there's no way i've ever tried that makes my men take an interest in the size of my profits like giving them a share. and there's no advertisement for a house like having its men going around blowing and bragging because they're working for it. again, if you insist that your men shan't violate the early-closing ordinance, you must observe one yourself. a man who works only half a day saturday can usually do a day and half's work monday. i'd rather have my men hump themselves for nine hours than dawdle for ten. of course, the world is full of horses who won't work except with the whip, but that's no reason for using it on those who will. when i get a critter that hogs my good oats and then won't show them in his gait, i get rid of him. he may be all right for a fellow who's doing a peddling business, but i need a little more speed and spirit in mine. a lot of people think that adversity and bad treatment is the test of a man, and it is--when you want to develop his strength; but prosperity and good treatment is a better one when you want to develop his weakness. by keeping those who show their appreciation of it and firing those who don't, you get an office full of crackerjacks. while your men must feel all the time that they've got a boss who can see good work around a corner, they mustn't be allowed to forget that there's no private burying-ground on the premises for mistakes. when a western town loses one of its prominent citizens through some careless young fellow's letting his gun go off sudden, if the sheriff buys a little rope and sends out invitations to an inquest, it's apt to make the boys more reserved about exchanging repartee; and if you pull up your men sharp when you find them shooting off their mouths to customers and getting gay in their correspondence, it's sure to cut down the mortality among our old friends in the trade. a clerk's never fresh in letters that the boss is going to see. the men who stay in the office and plan are the brains of your business; those who go out and sell are its arms; and those who fill and deliver the orders are its legs. there's no use in the brains scheming and the arms gathering in, if the legs are going to deliver the goods with a kick. that's another reason why it's very important for you to be in the office early. you can't personally see every order filled, and tell whether it was shipped promptly and the right goods sent, but when the telegrams and letters are opened, you can have all the kicks sorted out, and run through them before they're distributed for the day. that's where you'll meet the clerk who billed a tierce of hams to the man who ordered a box; the shipper who mislaid bill smith's order for lard, and made bill lose his saturday's trade through the delay; the department head who felt a little peevish one morning and so wrote hardin & co., who buy in car-lots, that if they didn't like the smoke of the last car of bacon short clears they could lump it, or words to that effect; and that's where you'll meet the salesman who played a sure thing on the new orleans track and needs twenty to get to the next town, where his check is waiting. then, a little later, when you make the rounds of the different departments to find out how it happened, the heads will tell you all the good news that was in the morning's mail. of course, you can keep track of your men in a sneaking way that will make them despise you, and talk to them in a nagging spirit that will make them bristle when they see you. but it's your right to know and your business to find out, and if you collect your information in an open, frank manner, going at it in the spirit of hoping to find everything all right, instead of wanting to find something all wrong; and if you talk to the responsible man with an air of "here's a place where we can get together and correct a weakness in our business"--not my business--instead of with an "ah! ha! i've-found-you-out" expression, your men will throw handsprings for your good opinion. never nag a man tinder any circumstances; fire him. a good boss, in these days when profits are pared down to the quick, can't afford to have any holes, no matter how small, in his management; but there must be give enough in his seams so that every time he stoops down to pick up a penny he won't split his pants. he must know how to be big, as well as how to be small. some years ago, i knew a firm who did business under the name of foreman & sowers. they were a regular business vaudeville team--one big and broad-gauged in all his ideas; the other unable to think in anything but boys' and misses' sizes. foreman believed that men got rich in dollars; sowers in cents. of course, you can do it in either way, but the first needs brains and the second only hands. it's been my experience that the best way is to go after both the dollars and the cents. well, sir, these fellows launched a specialty, a mighty good thing, the peep o' daisy breakfast food, and started in to advertise. sowers wanted to use inch space and sell single cases; foreman kicked because full pages weren't bigger and wanted to sell in car-lots, leaving the case trade to the jobbers. sowers only half-believed in himself, and only a quarter in the food, and only an eighth in advertising. so he used to go home nights and lie awake with a living-picture exhibit of himself being kicked out of his store by the sheriff; and out of his house by the landlord; and, finally, off the corner where he was standing with his hat out for pennies, by the policeman. he hadn't a big enough imagination even to introduce into this last picture a sport dropping a dollar bill into his hat. but foreman had a pretty good opinion of himself, and a mighty big opinion of the food, and he believed that a clever, well-knit ad. was strong enough to draw teeth. so he would go home and build steam-yachts and country places in his sleep. naturally, the next morning, sowers would come down haggard and gloomy, and grow gloomier as he went deeper into the mail and saw how small the orders were. but foreman would start out as brisk and busy as a humming-bird, tap the advertising agent for a new line of credit on his way down to the office, and extract honey and hope from every letter. sowers begged him, day by day, to stop the useless fight and save the remains of their business. but foreman simply laughed. said there wouldn't be any remains when he was ready to quit. allowed that he believed in cremation, anyway, and that the only way to fix a brand on the mind of the people was to burn it in with money. sowers worried along a few days more, and then one night, after he had been buried in the potter's field, he planned a final stroke to stop foreman, who, he believed, didn't know just how deep in they really were. foreman was in a particular jolly mood the next morning, for he had spent the night bidding against pierrepont morgan at an auction sale of old masters; but he listened patiently while sowers called off the figures in a sort of dirge-like singsong, and until he had wailed out his final note of despair, a bass-drum crash, which he thought would bring foreman to a realizing sense of their loss, so to speak. "that," sowers wound up, "makes a grand total of $ , that we have already lost." foreman's head drooped, and for a moment he was deep in thought, while sowers stood over him, sad, but triumphant, in the feeling that he had at last brought this madman to his senses, now that his dollars were gone. "eight hundred thou!" the senior partner repeated mechanically. then, looking up with a bright smile, he exclaimed: "why, old man, that leaves us two hundred thousand still to spend before we hit the million mark!" they say that sowers could only gibber back at him; and foreman kept right on and managed some way to float himself on to the million mark. there the tide turned, and after all these years it's still running his way; and sowers, against his better judgment, is a millionaire. i simply mention foreman in passing. it would be all foolishness to follow his course in a good many situations, but there's a time to hold on and a time to let go, and the limit, and a little beyond, is none too far to play a really good thing. but in business it's quite as important to know how to be a good quitter as a good fighter. even when you feel that you've got a good thing, you want to make sure that it's good enough, and that you're good enough, before you ask to have the limit taken off. a lot of men who play a nice game of authors get their feelings hurt at whist, and get it in the neck at poker. you want to have the same principle in mind when you're handling the trade. sometimes you'll have to lay down even when you feel that your case is strong. often you'll have to yield a point or allow a claim when you know you're dead right and the other fellow all wrong. but there's no sense in getting a licking on top of a grievance. another thing that helps you keep track of your men is the habit of asking questions. your thirst for information must fairly make your tongue loll out. when you ask the head of the canning department what we're netting for two-pound corned beef on the day's market for canners, and he has to say, "wait a minute and i'll figure it out," or turn to one of his boys and ask, "bill, what are twos netting us?" he isn't sitting close enough to his job, and, perhaps, if bill were in his chair, he'd be holding it in his lap; or when you ask the chief engineer how much coal we burned this month, as compared with last, and why in thunder we burned it, if he has to hem and haw and say he hasn't had time to figure it out yet, but he thinks they were running both benches in the packing house most of the time, and he guesses this and reckons that, he needs to get up a little more steam himself. in short, whenever you find a fellow that ought to know every minute where he's at, but who doesn't know what's what, he's pretty likely to be _it_. when you're dealing with an animal like the american hog, that carries all its profit in the tip of its tail, you want to make sure that your men carry all the latest news about it on the tip of the tongue. it's not a bad plan, once in a while, to check up the facts and figures that are given you. i remember one lightning calculator i had working for me, who would catch my questions hot from the bat, and fire back the answers before i could get into position to catch. was a mighty particular cuss. always worked everything out to the sixth decimal place. i had just about concluded he ought to have a wider field for his talents, when i asked him one day how the hams of the last week's run had been averaging in weight. answered like a streak; but it struck me that for hogs which had been running so light they were giving up pretty generously. so i checked up his figures and found 'em all wrong. tried him with a different question every day for a week. always answered quick, and always answered wrong. found that he was a base-ball rooter and had been handing out the batting averages of the chicagos for his answers. seems that when i used to see him busy figuring with his pencil he was working out where anson stood on the list. he's not in who's who in the stock yards any more, you bet. your affectionate father, john graham. no. from john graham, at magnolia villa, on the florida coast, to his son, pierrepont, at the union stock yards, chicago. the old man has started back to nature, but he hasn't gone quite far enough to lose sight of his business altogether. xii magnolia villa, february , . _dear pierrepont_: last week i started back to nature, as you advised, but at the ocean high roller house i found that i had to wear knee-breeches, which was getting back too far, or creases in my trousers, which wasn't far enough. so we've taken this little place, where there's nothing between me and nature but a blue shirt and an old pair of pants, and i reckon that's near enough. i'm getting a complexion and your ma's losing hers. hadn't anything with her but some bonnets, so just before we left the hotel she went into a little branch store, which a new york milliner runs there, and tried to buy a shade hat. "how would this pretty little shepherdess effect do?" asked the girl who was showing the goods, while she sized me up to see if the weight of my pocketbook made my coat sag. "how much is it?" asked your ma. "fifty dollars," said the girl, as bright and sassy as you please. "i'm not such a simple little shepherdess as that," answered your ma, just a little brighter and a little sassier, and she's going around bareheaded. she's doing the cooking and making the beds, because the white girls from the north aren't willing to do "both of them works," and the native niggers don't seem to care a great deal about doing any work. and i'm splitting the wood for the kitchen stove, and an occasional fish that has committed suicide. this morning, when i was casting through the surf, a good-sized drum chased me up on shore, and he's now the star performer in a chowder that your ma has billed for dinner. they call this place a villa, though it's really a villainy; and what i pay for it rent, though it's actually a robbery. but they can have the last bill in the roll if they'll leave me your ma, and my appetite, and that tired feeling at night. it's the bulliest time we've had since the spring we moved into our first little cottage back in missouri, and raised climbing-roses and our pet pig, toby. it's good to have money and the things that money will buy, but it's good, too, to check up once in a while and make sure you haven't lost the things that money won't buy. when a fellow's got what he set out for in this world, he should go off into the woods for a few weeks now and then to make sure that he's still a man, and not a plug-hat and a frock-coat and a wad of bills. you can't do the biggest things in this world unless you can handle men; and you can't handle men if you're not in sympathy with them; and sympathy begins in humility. i don't mean the humility that crawls for a nickel in the street and cringes for a thousand in the office; but the humility that a man finds when he goes gunning in the woods for the truth about himself. it's the sort of humility that makes a fellow proud of a chance to work in the world, and want to be a square merchant, or a good doctor, or an honest lawyer, before he's a rich one. it makes him understand that while life is full of opportunities for him, it's full of responsibilities toward the other fellow, too. that doesn't mean that you ought to coddle idleness, or to be slack with viciousness, or even to carry on the pay-roll well-meaning incompetence. for a fellow who mixes business and charity soon finds that he can't make any money to give to charity; and in the end, instead of having helped others, he's only added himself to the burden of others. the kind of sympathy i mean holds up men to the bull-ring without forgetting in its own success the hardships and struggles and temptations of the fellow who hasn't got there yet, but is honestly trying to. there's more practical philanthropy in keeping close to these men and speaking the word that they need, or giving them the shove that they deserve, than in building an eighteen-hole golf course around the stock yards for them. your force can always find plenty of reasons for striking, without your furnishing an extra one in the poor quality of the golf-balls that you give them. so i make it a rule that everything i hand out to my men shall come in the course of business, and be given on a business basis. when profits are large, they get a large bonus and a short explanation of the business reasons in the office and the country that have helped them to earn it; when profits are small, the bonus shrinks and the explanation expands. i sell the men their meats and give them their meals in the house restaurant at cost, but nothing changes hands between us except in exchange for work or cash. if you want a practical illustration of how giving something for nothing works, pick out some one who has no real claim on you--an old college friend who's too strong to work, or a sixteenth cousin who's missed connections with the express to fortune--and say: "you're a pretty good fellow, and i want to help you; after this i'm going to send you a hundred dollars the first of every month, until you've made a new start." he'll fairly sicken you with his thanks for that first hundred; he'll call you his generous benefactor over three or four pages for the second; he'll send you a nice little half-page note of thanks for the third; he'll write, "yours of the first with inclosure to hand--thanks," for the fourth; he'll forget to acknowledge the fifth; and when the sixth doesn't come promptly, he'll wire collect: "why this delay in sending my check--mail at once." and all the time he won't have stirred a step in the direction of work, because he'll have reasoned, either consciously or unconsciously: "i can't get a job that will pay me more than a hundred a month to start with; but i'm already drawing a hundred without working; so what's the use?" but when a fellow can't get a free pass, and he has any sort of stuff in him, except what hoboes are made of, he'll usually hustle for his car fare, rather than ride through life on the bumpers of a freight. the only favor that a good man needs is an opportunity to do the best work that's in him; and that's the only present you can make him once a week that will be a help instead of a hindrance to him. it's been my experience that every man has in him the possibility of doing well some one thing, no matter how humble, and that there's some one, in some place, who wants that special thing done. the difference between a fellow who succeeds and one who fails is that the first gets out and chases after the man who needs him, and the second sits around waiting to be hunted up. when i was a boy, we were brought up to believe that we were born black with original sin, and that we bleached out a little under old doc hoover's preaching. and in the church down main street they taught that a lot of us were predestined to be damned, and a few of us to be saved; and naturally we all had our favorite selections for the first bunch. i used to accept the doctrine of predestination for a couple of weeks every year, just before the main street church held its sunday-school picnic, and there are a few old rascals in the stock yards that make me lean toward it sometimes now; but, in the main, i believe that most people start out with a plenty of original goodness. the more i deal in it, the surer i am that human nature is all off the same critter, but that there's a heap of choice in the cuts. even then a bad cook will spoil a four-pound porterhouse, where a good one will take a chuck steak, make a few passes over it with seasoning and fixings, and serve something that will line your insides with happiness. circumstances don't make men, but they shape them, and you want to see that those under you are furnished with the right set of circumstances. every fellow is really two men--what he is and what he might be; and you're never absolutely sure which you're going to bury till he's dead. but a man in your position can do a whole lot toward furnishing the officiating clergyman with beautiful examples, instead of horrible warnings. the great secret of good management is to be more alert to prevent a man's going wrong than eager to punish him for it. that's why i centre authority and distribute checks upon it. that's why i've never had any honest old toms, or good old dicks, or faithful old harrys handling my good money week-days and presiding over the sabbath-school sundays for twenty years, and leaving the old man short a hundred thousand, and the little ones short a superintendent, during the twenty-first year. it's right to punish these fellows, but a suit for damages ought to lie against their employers. criminal carelessness is a bad thing, but the carelessness that makes criminals is worse. the chances are that, to start with, tom and dick were honest and good at the office and sincere at the sunday-school, and that, given the right circumstances, they would have stayed so. it was their employers' business to see that they were surrounded by the right circumstances at the office and to find out whether they surrounded themselves with them at home. a man who's fundamentally honest is relieved instead of aggrieved by having proper checks on his handling of funds. and the bigger the man's position and the amount that he handles, the more important this is. a minor employee can take only minor sums, and the principal harm done is to himself; but when a big fellow gets into you, it's for something big, and more is hurt than his morals and your feelings. i dwell a little on these matters, because i want to fix it firmly in your mind that the man who pays the wages must put more in the weekly envelope than money, if he wants to get his full money's worth. i've said a good deal about the importance of little things to a boss; don't forget their importance to your men. a thousand-dollar clerk doesn't think with a ten-thousand-dollar head; a fellow whose view is shut in by a set of ledgers can't see very far, and so stampedes easier than one whose range is the whole shop; a brain that can't originate big things can't forget trifles so quick as one in which the new ideas keep crowding out the old annoyances. ten thousand a year will sweeten a multitude of things that don't taste pleasant, but there's not so much sugar in a thousand to help them down. the sting of some little word or action that wouldn't get under your skin at all, is apt to swell up one of these fellows' bump of self-esteem as big as an egg-plant, and make it sore all over. it's always been my policy to give a little extra courtesy and consideration to the men who hold the places that don't draw the extra good salaries. it's just as important to the house that they should feel happy and satisfied as the big fellows. and no man who's doing his work well is too small for a friendly word and a pat on the back, and no fellow who's doing his work poorly is too big for a jolt that will knock the nonsense out of him. you can't afford to give your men a real grievance, no matter how small it is; for a man who's got nothing to occupy thin but his work can accomplish twice as much as one who's busy with his work and a grievance. the average man will leave terrapin and champagne in a minute to chew over the luxury of feeling abused. even when a man isn't satisfied with the supply of real grievances which life affords, and goes off hunting up imaginary ones, like a blame old gormandizing french hog that leaves a full trough to root through the woods for truffles, you still want to be polite; for when you fire a man there's no good reason for doing it with a yell. noise isn't authority, and there's no sense in ripping and roaring and cussing around the office when things don't please you. for when a fellow's given to that, his men secretly won't care a cuss whether he's pleased or not. they'll jump when he speaks, because they value their heads, not his good opinion. indiscriminate blame is as bad as undiscriminating praise--it only makes a man tired. i learned this, like most of the sense i've got--hard; and it was only a few years ago that i took my last lesson in it. i came down one morning with my breakfast digesting pretty easy, and found the orders fairly heavy and the kicks rather light, so i told the young man who was reading the mail to me, and who, of course, hadn't had anything special to do with the run of orders, to buy himself a suit of clothes and send the bill to the old man. well, when the afternoon mail came in, i dipped into that, too, but i'd eaten a pretty tony luncheon, and it got to finding fault with its surroundings, and the letters were as full of kicks as a drove of missouri mules. so i began taking it out on the fellow who happened to be handiest, the same clerk to whom i had given the suit of clothes in the morning. of course, he hadn't had anything to do with the run of kicks either, but he never put up a hand to defend himself till i was all through, and then he only asked: "say, mr. graham, don't you want that suit of clothes back?" [illustration: "say, mr. graham, don't you want that suit of clothes back?"] of course, i could have fired him on the spot for impudence, but i made it a suit and an overcoat instead. i don't expect to get my experience on free passes. and i had my money's worth, too, because it taught me that it's a good rule to make sure the other fellow's wrong before you go ahead. when you jump on the man who didn't do it, you make sore spots all over him; and it takes the spring out of your leap for the fellow who did it. one of the first things a boss must lose is his temper--and it must stay lost. there's about as much sense in getting yourself worked up into a rage when a clerk makes a mistake as there is in going into the barn and touching off a keg of gunpowder under the terrier because he got mixed up in the dark and blundered into a chicken-coop instead of a rat-hole. fido may be an all-right ratter, in spite of the fact that his foot slips occasionally, and a cut now and then with a switch enough to keep him in order; but if his taste for chicken develops faster than his nose for rats, it's easier to give him to one of the neighbors than to blow him off the premises. where a few words, quick, sharp, and decisive, aren't enough for a man, a cussing out is too much. it proves that he's unfit for his work, and it unfits you for yours. the world is full of fellows who could take the energy which they put into useless cussing of their men, and double their business with it. your affectionate father, john graham. no. from john graham, at the union stock yards, chicago, to his son, pierrepont, care of graham & company, denver. the young man has been offered a large interest in a big thing at a small price, and he has written asking the old man to lend him the price. xiii chicago, june , . _dear pierrepont_: judging from what you say about the highfaluting lulu, it must be a wonder, and the owner's reason for selling--that his lungs are getting too strong to stand the climate--sounds perfectly good. you can have the money at per cent, as soon as you've finally made up your mind that you want it, but before you plant it in the mine for keeps, i think you should tie a wet towel around your head, while you consider for a few minutes the bare possibility of having to pay me back out of your salary, instead of the profits from the mine. you can't throw a stone anywhere in this world without hitting a man, with a spade over his shoulder, who's just said the last sad good-byes to his bank account and is starting out for the cemetery where defunct flyers are buried. while you've only asked me for money, and not for advice, i may say that, should you put a question on some general topic like, "what are the wild waves saying, father?" i should answer, "keep out of watered stocks, my son, and wade into your own business a little deeper." though, when you come to think of it, these continuous-performance companies, that let you in for ten, twenty, and thirty cents a share, ought to be a mighty good thing for investors after they've developed their oil and gold properties, because a lot of them can afford to pay per cent. before they've developed anything but suckers. so long as gold-mining with a pen and a little fancy paper continues to be such a profitable industry, a lot of fellows who write a pretty fair hand won't see any good reason for swinging a pick. they'll simply pass the pick over to the fellow who invests, and start a new prospectus. while the road to hell is paved with good intentions, they're something after all; but the walls along the short cuts to fortune are papered with only the prospectuses of good intentions--intentions to do the other fellow good and plenty. i don't want to question your ability or the purity of your friends' intentions, but are you sure you know their business as well as they do? denver is a lovely city, with a surplus of climate and scenery, and a lot of people there go home from work every night pushing a wheelbarrow full of gold in front of them, but at the same time there is no surplus of _that_ commodity, and most of the fellows who find it have cut their wisdom teeth on quartz. it isn't reasonable to expect that you're going to buy gold at fifty cents on the dollar, just because it hasn't been run through the mint yet. i simply mention these things in a general way. there are two branches in the study of riches--getting the money and keeping it from getting away. when a fellow has saved a thousand dollars, and every nickel represents a walk home, instead of a ride on a trolley; and every dollar stands for cigars he didn't smoke and for shows he didn't see--it naturally seems as if that money, when it's invested, ought to declare dividends every thirty days. but almost any scheme which advertises that it will make small investors rich quick is like one of these yellowstone geysers that spouts up straight from hades with a boom and a roar--it's bound to return to its native brimstone sooner or later, leaving nothing behind it but a little smoke, and a smell of burned money--your money. if a fellow would stop to think, he would understand that when money comes in so hard, it isn't reasonable to expect that it can go out and find more easy. but the great trouble is that a good many small investors don't stop to think, or else let plausible strangers do their thinking for them. that's why most young men have tucked away with their college diploma and the picture of their first girl, an impressive deed to a lot in nowhere-on-the-nothingness, or a beautiful certificate of stock in the gushing girlie oil well, that has never gushed anything but lies and promises, or a lovely receipt for money invested in one of these discretionary pools that are formed for the higher education of indiscreet fools. while i reckon that every fellow has one of these certificates of membership in the great society of suckers, i had hoped that you would buy yours for a little less than the highfaluting lulu is going to cost you. young men are told that the first thousand dollars comes hard and that after that it comes easier. so it does--just a thousand dollars plus interest easier; and easier through all the increased efficiency that self-denial and self-control have given you, and the larger salary they've made you worth. it doesn't seem like much when you take your savings' bank book around at the end of the year and get a little thirty or forty dollars interest added, or when you cash in the coupon on the bond that you've bought; yet your bank book and your bond are still true to you. but if you'd had your thousand in one of these per cent. bleached blonde schemes, it would have lit out long ago with a fellow whose ways were more coaxing, leaving you the laugh and a mighty small lock of peroxide gold hair. if you think that saving your first thousand dollars is hard, you'll find that saving the second, after you've lost the first, is hell and repeat. you can't too soon make it a rule to invest only on your own _know_ and never on somebody else's say so. you may lose some profits by this policy, but you're bound to miss a lot of losses. often the best reason for keeping out of a thing is that everybody else is going into it. a crowd's always dangerous; it first pushes prices up beyond reason and then down below common sense. the time to buy is before the crowd comes in or after it gets out. it'll always come back to a good thing when it's been pushed up again to the point where it's a bad thing. it's better to go slow and lose a good bargain occasionally than to go fast and never get a bargain. it's all right to take a long chance now and then, when you've got a long bank account, but it's been my experience that most of the long chances are taken by the fellows with short bank accounts. you'll meet a lot of men in chicago who'll point out the corner of state and madison and tell you that when they first came to the city they were offered that lot for a hundred dollars, and that it's been the crowning regret of their lives that they didn't buy it. but for every genuine case of crowning regret because a fellow didn't buy, there are a thousand because he did. don't let it make you feverish the next time you see one of those won't-you-come-in-quick-and-get-rich-sudden ads. freeze up and on to your thousand, and by and by you'll get a chance to buy a little stock in the concern for which you're working and which you know something about; or to take that thousand and one or two more like it, and buy an interest in a nice little business of the breed that you've been grooming and currying for some other fellow. but if your money's tied up in the sudden--millionaire business, you'll have to keep right on clerking. a man's fortune should grow like a tree, in rings around the parent trunk. it'll be slow work at first, but every ring will be a little wider and a little thicker than the last one, and by and by you'll be big enough and strong enough to shed a few acorns within easy reaching distance, and so start a nice little nursery of your own from which you can saw wood some day. whenever you hear of a man's jumping suddenly into prominence and fortune, look behind the popular explanation of a lucky chance. you'll usually find that these men manufactured their own luck right on the premises by years of slow preparation, and are simply realizing on hard work. speaking of manufacturing luck on the premises, naturally calls to mind the story of old jim jackson, "dealer in mining properties," and of young thornley harding, graduate of princeton and citizen of new york. thorn wasn't a bad young fellow, but he'd been brought up by a nice, hard-working, fond and foolish old papa, in the fond belief that his job in life was to spend the income of a million. but one week papa failed, and the next week he died, and the next thorn found he had to go to work. he lasted out the next week on a high stool, and then he decided that the top, where there was plenty of room for a bright young man, was somewhere out west. thorn's life for the next few years was the whole series of hard-luck parables, with a few chapters from job thrown in, and then one day he met old jim. he seemed to cotton to thorn from the jump. explained to him that there was nothing in this digging gopher holes in the solid rock and eating chinaman's grub for the sake of making niggers' wages. allowed that he was letting other fellows dig the holes, and that he was selling them at a fair margin of profit to young eastern capitalists who hadn't been in the country long enough to lose their roll and that trust in mankind and nature which was youth's most glorious possession. needed a bright young fellow to help him--someone who could wear good clothes and not look as if he were in a disguise, and could spit out his words without chewing them up. would thorn join him on a grub, duds, and commission basis? would thorn surprise his skin with a boiled shirt and his stomach with a broiled steak? you bet he would, and they hitched up then and there. they ran along together for a year or more, selling a played-out mine now and then or a "promising claim," for a small sum. thorn knew that the mines which they handled were no golcondas, but, as he told himself, you could never absolutely swear that a fellow wouldn't strike it rich in one of them. there came a time, though, when they were way down on their luck. the run of young englishmen was light, and visiting easterners were a little gun-shy. almost looked to thorn as if he might have to go to work for a living, but he was a tenacious cuss, and stuck it out till one day when jim came back to leadville from a near-by camp, where he'd been looking at some played-out claims. jim was just boiling over with excitement. wouldn't let on what it was about, but insisted on thorn's going back with him then and there. said it was too big to tell; must be taken in by all thorn's senses, aided by his powers of exaggeration. it took them only a few hours to make the return trip. when jim came within a couple of miles of the camp, he struck in among some trees and on to the center of a little clearing. there he called thorn's attention to a small, deep spring of muddy water. "thorn," jim began, as impressive as if he were introducing him to an easy millionaire, "look at thet spring. feast yer eyes on it and tell me what you see." "a spring, you blooming idiot," thorn replied, feeling a little disappointed. "you wouldn't allow, thorn, to look at it, thet thar was special pints about thet spring, would you?" he went on, slow and solemn. "you wouldn't be willin' to swar thet the wealth of the hindoos warn't in thet precious flooid which you scorn? son," he wound up suddenly, "this here is the derndest, orneriest spring you ever see. thet water is rich enough to be drunk straight." thorn began to get excited in earnest now. "what is it? spit it out quick?" "watch me, sonny," and jim hung his tin cup in the spring and sat down on a near-by rock. then after fifteen silent minutes had passed, he lifted the cup from the water and passed it over. thorn almost jumped out of his jack-boots with surprise. "silver?" he gasped. "generwine," jim replied. "down my way, in illinois, thar used to be a spring thet turned things to stone. this gal gives 'em a jacket of silver." after thorn had kicked and rolled and yelled a little of the joy out of his system, he started to take a drink of the water, but jim stopped him with: "taste her if you wanter, but she's one of them min'rul springs which leaves a nasty smack behind." and then he added: "i reckon she's a winner. we'll christen her the infunt fernomerner, an' gin a lib'rul investor a crack at her." the next morning thorn started back, doing fancy steps up the trail. he hadn't been in leadville two days before he bumped into an old friend of his uncle's, tom castle, who was out there on some business, and had his daughter, a mighty pretty girl, along. thorn sort of let the spring slide for a few days, while he took them in hand and showed them the town. and by the time he was through, castle had a pretty bad case of mining fever, and thorn and the girl were in the first stages of something else. castle showed a good deal of curiosity about thorn's business and how he was doing, so he told 'em all about how he'd struck it rich, and in his pride showed a letter which he had received from jim the day before. it ran: "_dere thorn_: the infunt fernomerner is a wunder and the pile groes every day. i hav kittles, a skilit and a duzzen cans in the spring every nite wich is awl it wil hold and days i trys out the silver frum them wich have caked on nites. this is to dern slo. we nede munny so we kin dril and get a bigger flo and tanks and bilers and sech. hump yoursel and sell that third intrest. i hav to ten the kittles now so no mor frum jim." "you see," thorn explained, "we camped beside the spring one night, and a tin cup, which jim let fall when he first tasted the water, discovered its secret. it's just the same principle as those lime springs that incrust things with lime. this one must percolate through a bed of ore. there's some quality in the water which acts as a solvent of the silver, you know, so that the water becomes charged with it." now, thorn hadn't really thought of interesting castle as an investor in that spring, because he regarded his western business and his eastern friends as things not to be mixed, and he wasn't very hot to have castle meet jim and get any details of his life for the past few years. but nothing would do castle but that they should have a look at the infant, and have it at once. well, sir, when they got about a mile from camp they saw jim standing in the trail, and smiling all over his honest, homely face. he took castle for a customer, of course, and after saying "howdy" to thorn, opened right up: "i reckon thorn hev toted you up to see thet blessid infunt as i'm mother, father and wet-nuss to. thar never was sich a kid. she's jest the cutest little cuss ever you see. eh, thorn?" "do you prefer to the er--er--infant phenomenon?" asked castle, all eagerness. "the same precious infunt. she's a cooin' to herself over thar in them pines," jim replied, and he started right in to explain: "as you see, jedge, the precious flooid comes from the bowels of the earth, as full of silver as sody water of gas; and to think thet water is the mejum. nacher's our silent partner, and the blessid infunt delivers the goods. no ore, no stamps, no sweatin', no grindin', and crushin', and millin', and smeltin'. thar you hev the pure juice, and you bile it till it jells. looky here," and jim reached down and pulled out a skillet. "taste it! smell it! bite it! lick it! an' then tell me if sollermun in all his glory was dressed up like this here!" castle handled that skillet like a baby, and stroked it as if he just naturally loved children. stayed right beside the spring during the rest of the day, and after supper he began talking about it with jim, while thorn and kate went for a stroll along the trail. during the time they were away jim must have talked to pretty good purpose, for no sooner were the partners alone for the night than jim said to thorn: "i hev jest sold the jedge a third intrest in the fernomerner fur twenty thousand dollars." "i'm not so sure about that," answered thorn, for he still didn't quite like the idea of doing business with one of his uncle's friends. "the infant looks good and i believe she's a wonder, but it's a new thing, and twenty thousand's a heap of money to castle. if it shouldn't pan out up to the first show-down, i'd feel deucedly cut up about having let him in. i'd a good deal rather refuse to sell castle and hunt up a stranger." "don't be a dern fool, son," jim replied. "he knew we was arter money to develop, and when he made thet offer i warn't goin' to be sich a permiscuss charley-hoss as to refuse. it'd be a burnin' crime not to freeze to this customer. it takes time to find customers, even for a good thing like this here, and it's bein' a leetle out of the usual run will make it slower still." "but my people east. if castle should get stuck he'll raise an awful howl." jim grinned: "he'd holler, would he? in course; it might help his business. yer the orneriest ostrich fur a man of yer keerful eddication! did you hear thet boston banker what bought the cracker-jack from us a-hollerin'? he kept so shet about it, i'll bet, thet you couldn't a-blasted it outer him." they argued along until after midnight, but jim carried his point; and two weeks later thorn was in denver, saying good-by to kate, and listening to her whisper, "but it won't be for long, as you'll soon be able to leave business and come back east," and to castle yelling from the rear platform to "push the infant and get her sizzling." later, as jim and thorn walked back to the hotel, the old scoundrel turned to his partner with a grin and said: "i hev removed the insides from the infunt and stored 'em fur future ref'rence. meanin', in course," he added, as thorn gaped up at him like a chicken with the pip, "the 'lectro-platin' outfit. p'r'aps it would be better to take a leetle pasear now, but later we can come back and find another orphant infunt and christen her the phoenix, which is greek fur sold agin." it took thorn a full minute to comprehend the rascality in which he'd been an unconscious partner, but when he finally got it through his head that jim had substituted the child of a base-born churl for the earl's daughter, he fairly raged. threatened him with exposure and arrest if he didn't make restitution to castle, but jim simply grinned and asked him whether he allowed to sing his complaint to the police. wound up by saying that, even though thorn had rounded on him, old jim was a square man, and he proposed to divide even. thorn was simply in the fix of the fellow between the bull and the bulldog--he had a choice, but it was only whether he would rather be gored or bitten, so he took the ten thousand, and that night jim faded away on a west-bound pullman, smoking two-bit cigars and keeping the porter busy standing by with a cork-screw. thorn took his story and the ten thousand back to his uncle in the east, and after a pretty solemn interview with the old man, he went around and paid castle in full and resumed his perch on top of the high stool he'd left a few years before. he never got as far as explaining to the girl in person, because castle told him that while he didn't doubt his honesty, he was afraid he was too easy a mark to succeed in wall street. yet thorn did work up slowly in his uncle's office, and he's now in charge of the department that looks after the investments of widows and orphans, for he is so blamed conservative that they can't use him in any part of the business where it's necessary to take chances. i simply speak of thorn as an example of why i think you should have a cool head before you finally buy the lulu with my money. after all, it seems rather foolish to pay railroad fares to the west and back for the sake of getting stuck when there are such superior facilities for that right here in the east. your affectionate father, john graham. no. from john graham, at the omaha branch of graham & company, to his son, pierrepont, at the union stock yards, chicago. the old man has been advised by wire of the arrival of a prospective partner, and that the mother, the son, and the business are all doing well. xiv omaha, october , . _dear pierrepont_: i'm so blame glad it's a boy that i'm getting over feeling sorry it ain't a girl, and i'm almost reconciled to it's not being twins. twelve pounds, bully! maybe that doesn't keep up the graham reputation for giving good weight! but i'm coming home on the run to heft him myself, because i never knew a fellow who wouldn't lie a little about the weight of number one, and then, when you led him up to the hay scales, claim that it's a well-known scientific principle that children shrink during the first week like a ham in smoke. allowing for tare, though, if he still nets ten i'll feel that he's a credit to the brand. it's a great thing to be sixty minutes old, with nothing in the world except a blanket and an appetite, and the whole fight ahead of you; but it's pretty good, too, to be sixty years old, and a grandpop, with twenty years of fight left in you still. it sort of makes me feel, though, as if it were almost time i had a young fellow hitched up beside me who was strong enough to pull his half of the load and willing enough so that he'd keep the traces taut on his side. i don't want any double-team arrangement where i have to pull the load and the other horse, too. but you seem strong, and you act willing, so when i get back i reckon we'll hitch for a little trial spin. a good partner ought to be like a good wife--a source of strength to a man. but it isn't reasonable to tie up with six, like a mormon elder, and expect that you're going to have half a dozen happy homes. they say that there are three generations between shirt-sleeves and shirt-sleeves in a good many families, but i don't want any such gap as that in ours. i hope to live long enough to see the kid with us at the stock yards, and all three of us with our coats off hustling to make the business hum. if i shouldn't, you must keep the boy strong in the faith. it makes me a little uneasy when i go to new york and see the carryings-on of some of the old merchants' grandchildren. i don't think it's true, as andy says, that to die rich is to die disgraced, but it's the case pretty often that to die rich is to be disgraced afterward by a lot of light-weight heirs. every now and then some blame fool stops me on the street to say that he supposes i've got to the point now where i'm going to quit and enjoy myself; and when i tell him i've been enjoying myself for forty years and am going to keep right on at it, he goes off shaking his head and telling people i'm a money-grubber. he can't see that it's the fellow who doesn't enjoy his work and who quits just because he's made money that's the money-grubber; or that the man who keeps right on is fighting for something more than a little sugar on his bread and butter. when a doctor reaches the point where he's got a likely little bunch of dyspeptics giving him ten dollars apiece for telling them to eat something different from what they have been eating, and to chew it--people don't ask him why he doesn't quit and live on the interest of his dyspepsia money. by the time he's gained his financial independence, he's lost his personal independence altogether. for it's just about then that he's reached the age where he can put a little extra sense and experience into his pills; so he can't turn around without some one's sticking out his tongue at him and asking him to guess what he had for dinner that disagreed with him. it never occurs to these people that he will let his experience and ability go to waste, just because he has made money enough to buy a little dyspepsia of his own, and it never occurs to him to quit for any such foolish reason. you'll meet a lot of first-class idiots in this world, who regard business as low and common, because their low and common old grandpas made money enough so they don't have to work. and you'll meet a lot of second-class fools who carry a line of something they call culture, which bears about the same relation to real education that canned corned beef does to porterhouse steak with mushrooms; and these fellows shudder a little at the mention of business, and moan over the mad race for wealth, and deplore the coarse commercialism of the age. but while they may have no special use for a business man, they always have a particular use for his money. you want to be ready to spring back while you're talking to them, because when a fellow doesn't think it's refined to mention money, and calls it an honorarium, he's getting ready to hit you for a little more than the market price. i've had dealings with a good many of these shy, sensitive souls who shrink from mentioning the dollar, but when it came down to the point of settling the bill, they usually tried to charge a little extra for the shock to their refinement. the fact of the matter is, that we're all in trade when we've got anything, from poetry to pork, to sell; and it's all foolishness to talk about one fellow's goods being sweller than another's. the only way in which he can be different is by making them better. but if we haven't anything to sell, we ain't doing anything to shove the world along; and we ought to make room on it for some coarse, commercial cuss with a sample-case. i've met a heap of men who were idling through life because they'd made money or inherited it, and so far as i could see, about all that they could do was to read till they got the dry rot, or to booze till they got the wet rot. all books and no business makes jack a jack-in-the-box, with springs and wheels in his head; all play and no work makes jack a jackass, with bosh in his skull. the right prescription for him is play when he really needs it, and work whether he needs it or not; for that dose makes jack a cracker-jack. like most fellows who haven't any too much of it, i've a great deal of respect for education, and that's why i'm sorry to see so many men who deal in it selling gold-bricks to young fellows who can't afford to be buncoed. it would be a mighty good thing if we could put a lot of the professors at work in the offices and shops, and give these canned-culture boys jobs in the glue and fertilizer factories until a little of their floss and foolishness had worn off. for it looks to an old fellow, who's taking a bird's-eye view from the top of a packing house, as if some of the colleges were still running their plants with machinery that would have been sent to the scrap-heap, in any other business, a hundred years ago. they turn out a pretty fair article as it is, but with improved machinery they could save a lot of waste and by-products and find a quicker market for their output. but it's the years before our kid goes to college that i'm worrying about now. for i believe that we ought to teach a boy how to use his hands as well as his brain; that he ought to begin his history lessons in the present and work back to b.c. about the time he is ready to graduate; that he ought to know a good deal about the wheat belt before he begins loading up with the list of patagonian products; that he ought to post up on abraham lincoln and grover cleveland and thomas edison first, and save rameses second to while away the long winter evenings after business hours, because old rameses is embalmed and guaranteed to keep anyway; that if he's inclined to be tonguey he ought to learn a living language or two, which he can talk when a dutch buyer pretends he doesn't understand english, before he tackles a dead one which in all probability he will only give decent interment in his memory. of course, it's a fine thing to know all about the past and to have the date when the geese cackled in rome down pat, but life is the present and the future. the really valuable thing which we get from the past is experience, and a fellow can pick up a pretty fair working line of that along la salle street. a boy's education should begin with to-day, deal a little with to-morrow, and then go back to day before yesterday. but when a fellow begins with the past, it's apt to take him too long to catch up with the present. a man can learn better most of the things that happened between a.d. and b.c. after he's grown, for then he can sense their meaning and remember what's worth knowing. but you take the average boy who's been loaded up with this sort of stuff, and dig into him, and his mind is simply a cemetery of useless dates from the tombstones of those tough and sporty old kings, with here and there the jaw-bone of an ass who made a living by killing every one in sight and unsettling business for honest men. some professors will tell you that it's good training anyway to teach boys a lot of things they're going to forget, but it's been my experience that it's the best training to teach them things they'll remember. i simply mention these matters in a general way. i don't want you to underestimate the value of any sort of knowledge, and i want you to appreciate the value of other work besides your own--music and railroading, ground and lofty tumbling and banking, painting pictures and soap advertising; because if you're not broad enough to do this you're just as narrow as those fellows who are running the culture corner, and your mind will get so blame narrow it will overlap. i want to raise our kid to be a poor man's son, and then, if it's necessary, we can always teach him how to be a rich one's. child nature is human nature, and a man who understands it can make his children like the plain, sensible things and ways as easily as the rich and foolish ones. i remember a nice old lady who was raising a lot of orphan grandchildren on a mighty slim income. they couldn't have chicken often in that house, and when they did it was a pretty close fit and none to throw away. so instead of beginning with the white meat and stirring up the kids like a cage full of hyenas when the "feeding the carnivora" sign is out, she would play up the pieces that don't even get a mention on the bill-of-fare of a two-dollar country hotel. she would begin by saying in a please-don't-all-speak-at-once tone, "now, children, who wants this dear little neck?" and naturally they all wanted it, because it was pretty plain to them that it was something extra sweet and juicy. so she would allot it as a reward of goodness to the child who had been behaving best, and throw in the gizzard for nourishment. the nice old lady always helped herself last, and there was nothing left for her but white meat. it isn't the final result which the nice old lady achieved, but the first one, that i want to commend. a child naturally likes the simple things till you teach him to like the rich ones; and it's just as easy to start him with books and amusements that hold sense and health as those that are filled with slop and stomach-ache. a lot of mothers think a child starts out with a brain that can't learn anything but nonsense; so when maudie asks a sensible question they answer in goo-goo gush. and they believe that a child can digest everything from carpet tacks to fried steak, so whenever willie hollers they think he's hungry, and try to plug his throat with a banana. you want to have it in mind all the time while you're raising this boy that you can't turn over your children to subordinates, any more than you can your business, and get good results. nurses and governesses are no doubt all right in their place, but there's nothing "just as good" as a father and mother. a boy doesn't pick up cuss-words when his mother's around or learn cussedness from his father. yet a lot of mothers turn over the children, along with the horses and dogs, to be fed and broken by the servants, and then wonder from which side of the family isobel inherited her weak stomach, and where she picked up her naughty ways, and why she drops the h's from some words and pronounces others with a brogue. but she needn't look to isobel for any information, because she is the only person about the place with whom the child ain't on free and easy terms. i simply mention these things in passing. life is getting broader and business bigger right along, and we've got to breed a better race of men if we're going to keep just a little ahead of it. there are a lot of problems in the business now--trust problems and labor problems--that i'm getting old enough to shirk, which you and the boy must meet, though i'm not doing any particular worrying about them. while i believe that the trusts are pretty good things in theory, a lot of them have been pretty bad things in practice, and we shall be mighty slow to hook up with one. the trouble is that too many trusts start wrong. a lot of these fellows take a strong, sound business idea--the economy of cost in manufacture and selling--and hitch it to a load of the rottenest business principle in the bunch--the inflation of the value of your plant and stock--, and then wonder why people hold their noses when their outfit drives down wall street. of course, when you stop a little leakage between the staves and dip out the sugar by the bucket from the top, your net gain is going to be a deficit for somebody. so if these fellows try to do business as they should do it, by clean and sound methods and at fair and square prices, they can't earn money enough to satisfy their stockholders, and they get sore; and if they try to do business in the only way that's left, by clubbing competition to death, and gouging the public, then the whole country gets sore. it seems to me that a good many of these trusts are at a stage where the old individual character of the businesses from which they came is dead, and a new corporate character hasn't had time to form and strengthen. naturally, when a youngster hangs fire over developing a conscience, he's got to have one licked into him. personally, i want to see fewer businesses put into trusts on the canned-soup theory--add hot water and serve--before i go into one; and i want to know that the new concern is going to put a little of itself into every case that leaves the plant, just as i have always put in a little of myself. of course, i don't believe that this stage of the trusts can last, because, in the end, a business that is founded on doubtful values and that makes money by doubtful methods will go to smash or be smashed, and the bigger the business the bigger the smash. the real trust-busters are going to be the crooked trusts, but so long as they can keep out of jail they will make it hard for the sound and straight ones to prove their virtue. yet once the trust idea strikes bed-rock, and a trust is built up of sound properties on a safe valuation; once the most capable man has had time to rise to the head, and a new breed, trained to the new idea, to grow up under him; and once dishonest competition--not hard competition--is made a penitentiary offense, and the road to the penitentiary macadamized so that it won't be impassable to the fellows who ride in automobiles--then there'll be no more trust-busting talk, because a trust will be the most efficient, the most economical, and the most profitable way of doing business; and there's no use bucking that idea or no sense in being so foolish as to want to. it would be like grabbing a comet by the tail and trying to put a twist in it. and there's nothing about it for a young fellow to be afraid of, because a good man isn't lost in a big business--he simply has bigger opportunities and more of them. the larger the interests at stake, the less people are inclined to jeopardize them by putting them in the hands of any one but the best man in sight. i'm not afraid of any trust that's likely to come along for a while, because graham & co. ain't any spring chicken. i'm not too old to change, but i don't expect to have to just yet, and so long as the trust and labor situation remains as it is i don't believe that you and i and the kid can do much better than to follow my old rule: _mind your own business; own your own business; and run your own business_. your affectionate father, john graham. the end. [illustration: truly yours amos lawrence r andrews print.] extracts from the diary and correspondence of the late amos lawrence; with a +brief account of some incidents in his life.+ edited by his son, william r. lawrence, m. d. boston: gould and lincoln, washington street. new york: sheldon, lamport & blakeman. london: trubner & co. . entered according to act of congress, in the year , by william r. lawrence, in the clerk's office of the district court of the district of massachusetts boston: stereotyped by hobart & robbins, new england type and stereotype foundery. press of george c. rand & avery. +to his+ only surviving brother, a m o s a. l a w r e n c e, of boston, +this volume is affectionately inscribed+, by the editor. preface. among the papers of the late amos lawrence were found copies of a large number of letters addressed to his children. with the hope that the good counsels there given, during a succession of years, extending from their childhood to adult age, might still be made profitable to their descendants, he had caused them to be carefully preserved. these letters, as well as an irregular record of his daily experience, were scattered through many volumes, and required arrangement before they could be of use to those for whom they were intended. as no one else of the immediate family could conveniently undertake the task, the editor considered it his duty to do that which could not properly be committed to one less nearly connected with the deceased. the present volume, containing what was thought most interesting among those letters and extracts, was accordingly prepared for private circulation; and an edition of one hundred copies was printed and distributed among the nearest relatives and friends. it has been thought by many that the record of such a life as is here portrayed would be useful to other readers, and especially to young men,--a class in whom mr. lawrence was deeply interested, and with whom circumstances in his own life had given him a peculiar bond of sympathy. although many, among both friends and strangers, have urged the publication of the present memorial, and some have even questioned the moral right of withholding from the view of others the light of an example so worthy of imitation, much hesitation has been felt in submitting to the public the recital of such domestic incidents as are treasured in the memory of every family; those incidents which cast a sunbeam or a shadow across every fireside, and yet possess little or no interest for the busy world without. at the solicitation of the "boston young men's christian union," the "boston young men's christian association," and the students of williams college, through their respective committees, and at the request of many esteemed citizens, the pages which were prepared for the eye of kindred and friends alone are now submitted to the public. personal feeling is forgotten in the hope that the principles here inculcated may tend to promote the ends for which the subject of this memorial lived and labored. the interest manifested in his life, and the tributes rendered to his memory, have been a source of sincere gratification to his family; and they would here tender their acknowledgments to all those who have expressed their interest and their wishes in regard to this publication. the present volume is submitted with a few unimportant omissions, and with the addition of some materials, received after the issue of the first edition, which will throw light upon the character and principles of mr. lawrence during his early business career. his course was that of a private citizen, who took but little part in public measures or in public life. to the general reader, therefore, there may be but little to amuse in a career so devoid of incident, and so little connected with the stirring events of his times; but there cannot fail to be something to interest those who can appreciate the spirit which, in this instance, led to a rare fidelity in the fulfilment of important trusts, and the consecration of a life to the highest duties. mr. lawrence was eminently a religious man, and a deep sense of accountability may be discovered at the foundation of those acts of beneficence, which, during his lifetime, might have been attributed to a less worthy motive. it has been the object of the editor to allow the subject of this memorial to tell his own story, and to add merely what is necessary to preserve the thread of the narrative, or to throw light upon the various matters touched upon in the correspondence. it is designed to furnish such materials as will afford a history of mr. lawrence's charitable efforts, rather than give a detailed account of what was otherwise an uneventful career. such selections from his correspondence are made as seemed best adapted to illustrate the character of the man; such as exhibit his good and valuable traits, without attempting to conceal those imperfections, an exemption from which would elevate him above the common sphere of mortals. most of his letters are of a strictly private nature, and involve the record of many private details. his domestic tastes, and his affection for his family, often led him to make mention of persons and events in such a way that few letters could be wholly given without invading the precincts of the family circle. the engraving at the commencement of the volume is from an original portrait, by harding, in the possession of the editor, a copy of which hangs in the library of williams college. it seems also fitting to include a portrait of the hon. abbott lawrence, who, for forty-three years, was so intimately associated with the subject of this memorial in all the trials, as well as in the triumphs, of business life, and who was still more closely connected by the bonds of fraternal affection and sympathy. a few days only have elapsed since he was removed from the scene of his earthly labors. the grave has rarely closed over one who to such energy of character and strength of purpose united a disposition so gentle and forbearing. amidst the perplexities attending his extended business relations, and in the excitement of the political struggles in which he was called to take part, he was never tempted to overstep the bounds of courtesy, or to regard his opponents otherwise than with feelings of kindness. his wealth was used freely for the benefit of others, and for the advancement of all those good objects which tended to promote the welfare of his fellow-men. that divine spark of charity, which burned with such ceaseless energy in the bosom of his elder brother, was caught up by him, and exhibited its fruits in those acts of munificence which will make him long remembered as a benefactor of his race. boston, _september_ st, . letters, requesting publication. _rooms of the boston young men's christian union, bedford-street, boston, june , ._ william r. lawrence, esq. dear sir: the undersigned, members of the government of the boston young men's christian union, some of whom have perused the excellent memoir of your honored father, feel deeply impressed with the desire that it should be published and circulated, knowing that its publication and perusal would greatly benefit the young, the old, and all classes of our busy mercantile community. remembering with pleasure the friendship which your father expressed, not only in kind words, but in substantial offerings to the treasury and library of our society, the union would be most happy, should it comport with your feelings, to be made the medium of the publication and circulation of the memoir, which you have compiled with so much ability and faithfulness. hoping to receive a favorable response to our desire, we are most truly yours, thomas gaffield, h. k. white, john sweetser, j. f. ainsworth, joseph h. allen, w. h. richardson, chas. c. smith, francis s. russell, c. j. bishop, frederic h. henshaw, f. h. peabody, charles f. potter, w. irving smith, thornton k. lothrop, arthur w. hobart. geo. s. hale. * * * * * _rooms of the boston young men's christian association, tremont temple, boston, july , ._ dear sir: the committee on the library of the boston young men's christian association beg leave, in its behalf, to tender you sincere thanks for your donation of a copy of the "diary and correspondence of amos lawrence." it will remain to the members of the association a valued memorial of one of its earliest benefactors. it will be yet more prized for its record of his invaluable legacy,--the history of a long life--a bright example. the committee, uniting with the subscribers, managers of the association, are happy to improve this opportunity to express the hope that you may be induced to give the book a more general circulation. the kindly charities of your late lamented parent are still fresh in impressions of gratitude upon their recipients. they require no herald to give them publicity. the voice of fame would do violence to their spirit. yet, now that "the good man" can no more utter his words of sympathy and counsel,--that his pen can no more subscribe its noble benefactions, or indite its lessons of wisdom and experience,--the press may silently perpetuate those which survive him. we must assure you of our pleasure in the knowledge that the liberal interest in the association, so constantly manifested by your revered father, is actively maintained by yourself. we remain, in the fraternal bonds of christian regard, yours, truly, jacob sleeper, francis d. stedman, j. s. warren, elijah swift, samuel gregory, b. c. clark, jr., luther l. tarbell, joseph p. ellicott, alonzo c. tenney, geo. n. noyes, moses w. pond, pearl martin, stephen g. deblois, w. h. jameson, henry furnas, w. f. story. franklin w. smith, } e. m. putnam, } _committee chas. l. andrews, } on geo. c. rand, } library and rooms_ h. c. gilbert, } to william r. lawrence, m.d. * * * * * _williams college, june , ._ dear sir: the students of williams college having learned that you have prepared, for private distribution, a volume illustrating the character of the late amos lawrence, whose munificence to this institution they appreciate, and whose memory they honor; the undersigned, a committee appointed for the purpose, express to you their earnest desire that you would allow it to be published. very truly yours, samuel b. forbes, e. c. smith, fred. w. beecher, henry hopkins. to w. r. lawrence, m.d., _boston_. contents. page chapter i. birth.--ancestry.--parents, chapter ii. early years.--school days.--apprenticeship, chapter iii. arrival in boston.--clerkship.--commences business.--habits, chapter iv. business habits.--his father's mortgage.--resolutions.--arrival of brothers in boston, chapter v. visits at groton.--sickness.--letter from dr. shattuck.-- engagement.--letter to rev. dr. gannett.--marriage, chapter vi. bramble news.--junior partner goes to england.--letters to brother, chapter vii. death of sister.--letters, chapter viii. domestic habits.--illness and death of wife, chapter ix. journeys.--letters.--journey to new york, chapter x. marriage.--elected to legislature.--engages in manufactures.-- reflections, chapter xi. reflections.--bunker hill monument.--letters, chapter xii. journey to canada.--letters.--diary.--charities, chapter xiii. correspondence with mr. webster.--letters, chapter xiv. testimonial to mr. webster.--dangerous illness.--letters, chapter xv. journey to new hampshire.--letters.--resigns office of trustee at hospital.--letters, chapter xvi. daily exercise.--regimen.--improving health.--letters, chapter xvii. reflections.--visit to washington.--visit to rainsford island.--reflections.--view of death.--reflections, chapter xviii. brother's death.--letters.--gifts.--letters.--birth-place.-- diary.--applications for aid.--reflections.--letter from rev. dr. stone.--diary, chapter xix. reflections.--letters.--account of efforts to complete bunker hill monument, chapter xx. interest in mount auburn.--rev. dr. sharp.--letter from bishop mcilvaine.--letter from judge story, chapter xxi. acquaintance with president hopkins.--letters.--affection for brattle-street church.--death of mrs. appleton.-- letters.--amesbury co., chapter xxii. death of his daughter.--letters.--donation to williams college.--beneficence.--letters, chapter xxiii. letter from dr. sharp.--illness and death of his son.-- letters.--afflictions, chapter xxiv. reflections.--expenditures.--letters.--donation for library at williams college.--views on study of anatomy, chapter xxv. donation to lawrence academy.--correspondence with r. g. parker.--sleigh-rides.--aversion to notoriety.--children's hospital, chapter xxvi. captain a. s. mckenzie.--diary.--aid to ireland.--madam prescott.--sir william colebrooke, chapter xxvii. mr. lawrence as an applicant.--letters.--diary.--prayer and meditations.--fac-simile of hand-writing.--liberality to a creditor.--letters, chapter xxviii. reflections.--views on holding office.--letters.--capt. a. slidell mckenzie.--death of brother and of hon. j. mason, chapter xxix. system in accounts.--letter from prof. stuart--letters.-- diary.--dr. hamilton.--father mathew, chapter xxx. codicil to will.--illness--gen. whiting.--letters.--diary, chapter xxxi. diary.--reflections.--sickness.--letter from dr. sharp.-- correspondence, chapter xxxii. amin bey.--amount of donations to williams college, chapter xxxiii. letters--likeness of abbott lawrence.--diary, chapter xxxiv. sir t. f. buxton.--letter from lady buxton.--elliott cresson.--letters, chapter xxxv. letters.--rev. dr. scoresby.--wabash college, chapter xxxvi. diary.--amount of charities.--letters.--thomas tarbell.-- uncle toby.--rev. dr. lowell, chapter xxxvii. correspondence.--diary, chapter xxxviii. mr. lawrence serves as presidential elector.--gen. franklin pierce--sudden death.--funeral, chapter xxxix. sketch of character by rev. drs. lothrop and hopkins, chapter xl. conclusion, index, diary and correspondence. chapter i. birth.--ancestry.--parents. amos lawrence was born in groton, mass., on the d of april, . his ancestor, john lawrence, was baptized, according to the records, on the th of october, , at wisset, county of suffolk, england, where the family had resided for a long period, though originally from the county of lancaster. butler, in his "history of groton," has, among other details, the following: "the first account of the ancestor of the numerous families of this name in groton and pepperell, which can be relied upon as certain, is, that he was an inhabitant of watertown as early as . he probably came in the company which came with governor winthrop, in . his given name was john, and that of his wife was elizabeth. whether they were married in england or not, has not been ascertained. their eldest child was born in watertown, january , . he removed to groton, with probably all his family, at an early period of its settlement, as his name is found in the records there in . he was an original proprietor, having a twenty-acre right." of the parents of the subject of this memoir, the same author writes: "samuel lawrence, the son of captain amos lawrence, sen., was an officer in the continental army, in the former part of the revolutionary war. he was in the battle of bunker hill, where a musket-ball passed through his beaver hat. he was also in the battle in rhode island, where he served as adjutant under general sullivan. on the d day of july, , being at home, on a furlough, for the express purpose, he was married to susanna parker. * * * * "having faithfully served in the cause of his country during the term of his engagement, he returned to his native town, to enjoy the peace and quiet of domestic life on his farm. he was elected by his townsmen to some of the highest offices in their gift; he was a deacon of the church, and a justice of the peace _quorum unus_. he took a deep interest in providing means for the education of youth, particularly in establishing and supporting the seminary in groton, which now, in gratitude to him and his sons, bears the family name. of this institution he was a trustee thirty-three years, and in its benefits and advantages he gave ample opportunities for all his children to participate. here their minds undoubtedly received some of those early impressions, the developments and consequences of which it will be the work of their biographers hereafter to portray. no deduction, however, should here be made from the importance of parental instruction, to add to the merit of academical education. the correct lessons given by the mother in the nursery are as necessary to give the right inclination to the tender mind as are those of the tutor in the highest seminary to prepare it for the business of life and intellectual greatness. in the present case, all the duties incumbent on a mother to teach her offspring to be good, and consequently great, were discharged with fidelity and success. both parents lived to see, in the subject of their care, all that they could reasonably hope or desire. he died november , , æt. seventy-three; and his venerable widow, may , , æt. eighty-nine." mr. lawrence writes, in , to a friend: "my father belonged to a company of _minute-men_ in groton, at the commencement of the revolution. on the morning of the th of april, , when the news reached town that the british troops were on the road from boston, general prescott, who was a neighbor, came towards the house on horseback, at rapid speed, and cried out, 'samuel, notify your men: _the british are coming_.' my father mounted the general's horse, rode a distance of seven miles, notified the men of his circuit, and was back again at his father's house in forty minutes. in three hours the company was ready to march, and on the next day (the th) reached cambridge. my father was in the battle of bunker hill; received a bullet through his cap, which cut his hair from front to rear; received a spent grape-shot upon his arm, without breaking the bone; and lost a large number of men. his veteran captain farwell was shot through the body, was taken up for dead, and was so reported by the man who was directed to carry him off. this report brought back the captain's voice, and he exclaimed, with his utmost power, '_it an't true; don't let my poor wife hear of this; i shall live to see my country free._' and so it turned out. this good man, who had served at the capture of cape breton in , again in , and now on bunker hill in , is connected with everything interesting in my early days. the bullet was extracted, and remains, as a memento, with his descendants. my father and mother were acquainted from their childhood, and engaged to be married some time in . they kept up a correspondence through , when he was at new york; but, on a visit to her, in (his mother having advised them to be married, as susan had better be sam's widow than his forlorn damsel), they were married; but, while the ceremony was going forward, the signal was given to call all soldiers to their posts; and, within the hour, he left his wife, father, mother, and friends, to join his regiment, then at cambridge. this was on the d day of july, . in consideration of the circumstances, his colonel allowed him to return to his wife, and to join the army at rhode island in a brief time (two or three days). he did so, and saw nothing more of home until the last day of that year. the army being in winter quarters, he got a furlough for a short period, and reached home in time to assist at the ordination of the rev. daniel chaplin, of whose church both my parents were then members. his return was a season of great joy to all his family. his stay was brief, and nothing more was seen of him until the autumn of , when he retired from the army, in time to be with his wife at the birth of their first child. from that time he was identified with everything connected with the good of the town. as we children came forward, we were carefully looked after, but were taught to use the talents intrusted to us; and every nerve was strained to provide for us the academy which is now doing so much there. we _sons_ are doing less for education _for our means_ than our father for his means." of his mother mr. lawrence always spoke in the strongest terms of veneration and love, and in many of his letters are found messages of affection, such as could have emanated only from a heart overflowing with filial gratitude. her form bending over their bed in silent prayer, at the hour of twilight, when she was about leaving them for the night, is still among the earliest recollections of her children. she was a woman well fitted to train a family for the troubled times in which she lived. to the kindest affections and sympathies she united energy and decision, and in her household enforced that strict and unhesitating obedience, which she considered as the foundation of all success in the education of children. her hands were never idle, as may be supposed, when it is remembered that in those days, throughout new england, in addition to the cares of a farming establishment, much of the material for clothing was manufactured by the inmates of the family. many hours each day she passed at the hand-loom, and the hum of the almost obsolete spinning-wheel even now comes across the memory like the remembrance of a pleasant but half-forgotten melody. chapter ii. early years.--school days.--apprenticeship. the first public instruction received by mr. lawrence was at the district school kept at a short distance from his father's house. possessing a feeble constitution, he was often detained at home by sickness, where he employed himself industriously with his books and tools, in the use of which he acquired a good degree of skill, as may be seen from a letter to his son, at groton, in : "near the barn used to be an old fort, where the people went to protect themselves from the indians; and, long since my remembrance, the old cellar was there, surrounded by elder-bushes and the like. i made use of many a piece of the elder for pop-guns and squirts, in the preparation of which i acquired a strong taste for the use of the pen-knife and jack-knife. i like the plan of boys acquiring the taste for tools, and of their taking pains to learn their use; for they may be so situated as to make a very slight acquaintance very valuable to them. and, then, another advantage is that they may have exercise of body and mind in some situations where they would suffer without. how do you employ yourself? learn as much as you can of farming; for the work of your hands in this way may prove the best resource in securing comfort to you. the beautiful images of early life come up in these bright moonlight nights, the like of which i used to enjoy in the fields below our old mansion, where i was sent to watch the cattle. there i studied astronomy to more account than ever afterwards; for the heavens were impressive teachers of the goodness of that father who is ever near to each one of his children. may you never lose sight of this truth, and so conduct yourself that at any moment you may be ready to answer when he calls!" he did not allow himself to be idle, but, from his earliest years, exhibited the same spirit of industry which led to success in after life. with a natural quickness of apprehension, and a fondness for books, he made commendable progress, in spite of his disadvantages. his father's social disposition and hospitable feelings made the house a favorite resort for both friends and strangers; and among the most welcome were old messmates and fellow-soldiers, to whose marvellous adventures and escapes the youthful listener lent a most attentive ear. in after life he often alluded to the intense interest with which he hung upon these accounts of revolutionary scenes, and times which "tried men's souls." the schoolmaster was usually billeted upon the family; and there are now living individuals high in political and social life who served in that capacity, and who look back with pleasure to the days passed under that hospitable roof. at a later period, he seems to have been transferred to another school, in the adjoining district, as will be seen by the following extract of a letter, written in , to a youth at the groton academy: "more than fifty years ago, your father and i were school children together. i attended then at the old meeting-house, or north barn, as it was called, by way of derision, where i once remember being in great tribulation at having lost my spelling-book on the way. it was afterwards restored to me by captain richardson, who found it under his pear-tree, where i had been, without leave, on my way to school, and with the other children helped myself to his fruit." from the district school, mr. lawrence entered the groton academy, of which all his brothers and sisters were members at various times. as his strength was not sufficient to make him useful upon the farm, in the autumn of he was placed in a small store, in the neighboring town of dunstable. there he passed but a few months; and, on account, perhaps, of greater facilities for acquiring a knowledge of business, he was transferred to the establishment of james brazer, esq., of groton, an enterprising and thrifty country merchant, who transacted a large business, for those times, with his own and surrounding towns. the store was situated on the high road leading from boston to new hampshire and canada, and was, consequently, a place of much resort, both for travellers and neighbors who took an interest in passing events. several clerks were employed; and, as mr. brazer did not take a very active part in the management of the business, after a year or two nearly the whole responsibility of the establishment rested upon young lawrence. the stock consisted of the usual variety kept in the country stores of those days, when neighbors could not, as now, run down to the city, thirty or forty miles distant, for any little matter of fancy, and return before dinner-time. puncheons of rum and brandy, bales of cloth, kegs of tobacco, with hardware and hosiery, shared attention in common with silks and thread, and all other articles for female use. among other duties, the young clerk was obliged to dispense medicines, not only to customers, but to all the physicians within twenty miles around, who depended on this establishment for their supply. the confidence in his good judgment was such that he was often consulted, in preference to the physician, by those who were suffering from minor ails; and many were the extemporaneous doses which he administered for the weal or woe of the patient. the same confidence was extended to him in all other matters, no one doubted his assertion; and the character for probity and fairness which accompanied him through life was here established. the quantity of rum and brandy sold would surprise the temperance men of modern days. at eleven o'clock, each forenoon, some stimulating beverage, according to the taste of the clerk who compounded it, was served out for the benefit of clerks and customers. mr. lawrence partook with the others; but, soon finding that the desire became more pressing at the approach of the hour for indulgence, he resolved to discontinue the habit altogether: "his mind was soon made up. understanding perfectly the ridicule he should meet with, and which for a time he did meet with in its fullest measure, he yet took at once the ground of _total abstinence_. such a stand, taken at such an age, in such circumstances of temptation, before temperance societies had been heard of, or the investigations had been commenced on which they are based, was a practical instance of that judgment and decision which characterized him through life."[ ] [ ] president hopkins's sermon in commemoration of amos lawrence in regard to this resolution, he writes, many years afterward, to a young student in college: "in the first place, take this for your motto at the commencement of your journey, that the difference of going _just right_, or a _little wrong_, will be the difference of finding yourself in good quarters, or in a miserable bog or slough, at the end of it. of the whole number educated in the groton stores for some years before and after myself, no one else, to my knowledge, escaped the bog or slough; and my escape i trace to the simple fact of my having put a restraint upon my appetite. we five boys were in the habit, every forenoon, of making a drink compounded of rum, raisins, sugar, nutmeg, &c., with biscuit,--all palatable to eat and drink. after being in the store four weeks, i found myself admonished by my appetite of the approach of the hour for indulgence. thinking the habit might make trouble if allowed to grow stronger, without further apology to my seniors i declined partaking with them. my first resolution was to abstain for a week, and, when the week was out, for a month, and then for a year. finally, i resolved to abstain for the rest of my apprenticeship, which was for five years longer. during that whole period, i never drank a spoonful, though i mixed gallons daily for my old master and his customers. i decided not to be a slave to tobacco in any form, though i loved the odor of it then, and even now have in my drawer a superior havana cigar, given me, not long since, by a friend, but only to smell of. i have never in my life smoked a cigar; never chewed but one quid, and that was before i was fifteen; and never took an ounce of snuff, though the scented rappee of forty years ago had great charms for me. now, i say, to this simple fact of starting _just right_ am i indebted, with god's blessing on my labors, for my present position, as well as that of the numerous connections sprung up around me. i have many details that now appear as plain to me as the sun at noonday, by which events are connected together, and which have led to results that call on me to bless the lord for all his benefits, and to use the opportunities thus permitted to me in cheering on the generation of young men who have claims upon my sympathies as relations, fellow-townsmen, or brethren on a more enlarged scale." of this period he writes elsewhere, as follows: "when i look back, i can trace the small events which happened at your age as having an influence upon all the after things. my academy lessons, little academy balls, and eight-cent expenses for music and gingerbread, the agreeable partners in the hall, and pleasant companions in the stroll, all helped to make me feel that i had a character even then; and, after leaving school and going into the store, there was not a month passed before i became impressed with the opinion that restraint upon appetite was necessary to prevent the slavery i saw destroying numbers around me. many and many of the farmers, mechanics, and apprentices, of that day, have filled drunkards' graves, and have left destitute families and friends. "the knowledge of every-day affairs which i acquired in my business apprenticeship in groton has been a source of pleasure and profit even in my last ten years' discipline." the responsibility thrown upon the young clerk was very great; and he seems cheerfully to have accepted it, and to have given himself up entirely to the performance of his business duties. his time, from early dawn till evening, was fully taken up; and, although living in the family of his employer, and within a mile of his father's house, a whole week would sometimes pass without his having leisure to pay even a flying visit. but few details of his apprenticeship can now be gathered either from his contemporaries or from any allusions in his own writings. he was disabled for a time by an accident which came near being fatal. in assisting an acquaintance to unload a gun, by some means the charge exploded, and passed directly through the middle of his hand, making a round hole like that of a bullet. sixty-three shot were picked out of the floor after the accident, and it seemed almost a miracle that he ever again had the use of his hand. chapter iii. arrival in boston.--clerkship.--commences business.--habits.--letters. on the d of april, , mr. lawrence became of age; and his apprenticeship, which had lasted seven years, was terminated. on the th of the same month, he took his father's horse and chaise, and engaged a neighbor to drive him to boston, with, as he says, many years afterwards,-- "twenty dollars in my pocket, but feeling richer than i had ever felt before, or have felt since; so rich that i gave the man who came with me two dollars to save him from any expense, and insure him against loss by his spending two days on the journey here and back (for which he was glad of an excuse)." his object was to make acquaintances, and to establish a credit which would enable him to commence business in groton on his own account, in company with a fellow-apprentice. a few days after his arrival in boston, he received the offer of a clerkship from a respectable house; and, wishing to familiarize himself with the modes of conducting mercantile affairs in the metropolis, and with the desire of extending his acquaintance with business men, he accepted the offer. his employers were so well satisfied with the capacity of their new clerk, that, in the course of a few months, they made a proposition to admit him into partnership. without any very definite knowledge of their affairs, he, much to their surprise, declined the offer. he did not consider the principles on which the business was conducted as the true ones. the result showed his sagacity; for, in the course of a few months, the firm became insolvent, and he was appointed by the creditors to settle their affairs. this he did to their satisfaction; and, having no further occupation, decided upon commencing business on his own account. he accordingly hired a small store in what was then called cornhill, and furnished it by means of the credit which he had been able to obtain through the confidence with which he had inspired those whose acquaintance he had made during his brief sojourn in boston. on the th of december, , he commenced business, after having engaged as his clerk henry whiting, in after years well and honorably known as brigadier-general whiting, of the united states army. mr. lawrence writes to general whiting, in , as follows: "i have just looked into my first sales-book, and there see the entries made by you more than forty-one years ago. ever since, you have been going up from the cornet of dragoons to the present station. abbott, who took your place, is now the representative of his country at the court of st. james." in a memorandum in one of his account-books, he thus alludes to his condition at that time: "i was then, in the matter of property, not worth a dollar. my father was comfortably off as a farmer, somewhat in debt; with perhaps four thousand dollars. my brother luther was in the practice of law, getting forward, but not worth two thousand dollars; william had nothing; abbott, a lad just fifteen years old, at school; and samuel, a child seven years old." of the manner in which he occupied himself when not engaged about his business, he writes to his son in : "when i first came to this city, i took lodgings in the family of a widow who had commenced keeping boarders for a living. i was one of her first, and perhaps had been in the city two months when i went to this place; and she, of course, while i remained, was inclined to adopt any rules for the boarders that i prescribed. the only one i ever made was, that, after supper, all the boarders who remained in the public room should remain quiet at least for one hour, to give those who chose to study or read an opportunity of doing so without disturbance. the consequence was, that we had the most quiet and improving set of young men in the town. the few who did not wish to comply with the regulation went abroad after tea, sometimes to the theatre, sometimes to other places, but, to a man, became bankrupt in after life, not only in fortune, but in reputation; while a majority of the other class sustained good characters, and some are now living who are ornaments to society, and fill important stations. the influence of this small measure will perhaps be felt throughout generations. it was not less favorable on myself than on others." mr. lawrence was remarkable through life for the most punctilious exactness in all matters relating to business. ever prompt himself in all that he undertook, he submitted with little grace to the want of the same good trait in others. he writes to a friend: "and now having delivered the message, having the power at the present moment, and not having the assurance that i shall be able to do it the next hour, i will state that i practised upon the maxim, '_business before friends_,' from the commencement of my course. during the first seven years of my business in this city, i never allowed a bill against me to stand unsettled over the sabbath. if the purchase of goods was made at auction on saturday, and delivered to me, i always examined and settled the bill by note or by crediting it, and having it clear, so that, in case i was not on duty on monday, there would be no trouble for my boys; thus keeping the business _before_ me, instead of allowing it to _drive_ me." absence from his home seemed only to strengthen the feelings of attachment with which he regarded its inmates. "my interest in home, and my desire to have something to tell my sisters to instruct and improve them, as well as to hear their comments upon whatever i communicated, was a powerful motive for me to spend a portion of each evening in my boarding-house, the first year i came to boston, in reading and study." during the same month in which he commenced his business, he opened a correspondence with one of his sisters by the following letter: "boston, december, . "dear e.: although the youngest, you are no less dear to me than the other sisters. to you, therefore, i ought to be as liberal in affording pleasure (if you can find any in reading my letters) as to s. and m.; and, if there is any benefit resulting from them, you have a claim to it as well as they. from these considerations, and with the hope that you will write to me whenever you can do so with convenience, i have begun a correspondence which i hope will end only with life. to be able to write a handsome letter is certainly a very great accomplishment, and can best be attained by practice; and, if you now begin, i have no hesitation in saying, that, by the time you are sixteen, you will be mistress of a handsome style, and thrice the quantity of ideas you would otherwise possess, by omitting this part of education. at present, you can write about any subject that will afford you an opportunity of putting together a sentence, and i shall read it with pleasure. i mention this, that you need not fear writing on subjects not particularly interesting to me; the manner at present being of as much consequence as the matter. "for our mutual pleasure and benefit, dear e., i hope you will not fail to gratify your affectionate brother amos." to show the nature of the correspondence between the parties, extracts are given below from a letter dated within a few days of the preceding, and addressed to another sister: "from you, my dear sister, the injunction not to forget the duties of religion comes with peculiar grace. you beg i will pardon you for presuming to offer good advice. does a good act require pardon? not having committed an offence, i can grant you no pardon; but my thanks i can give, which you will accept, with an injunction never to withhold any caution or advice which you may think necessary or beneficial on account of fewer years having passed over your head. * * * * "many, when speaking of perfection, say it is not attainable, or hitherto unattainable, and it is therefore vain to try or hope for it. to such i would observe, that, from motives of duty to our creator, and ambition in ourselves, we ought to strive for it, at least so far as not to be distanced by those who have preceded us. morality is strict justice between man and man; therefore, a man being moral does not imply he is a christian, but being a christian implies he is a moral man. * * * * "we ought to use our utmost endeavors to conquer our passions and evil propensities, to conform our lives to the strict rules of morality and the best practice of christianity. i cannot go further, without introducing the subject of evil speaking, which you will perhaps think i have exhausted. * * * "i do not, my dear m., set myself up as a reformer of human nature, or to find fault with it; but these observations (which have occurred to me as i am writing) may serve to show how apt we are to do things which afford us no pleasure, and which oftentimes are attended with the most disagreeable consequences. if you receive any improvement from the sentiments, or pleasure from the perusal, of this letter, the time in writing will be considered as well spent by your affectionate brother amos." chapter iv. business habits.--his father's mortgage.--resolutions.--arrival of brothers in boston. mr. lawrence had early formed, in the management of his affairs, certain principles, to which he rigidly adhered till the close of life. he writes: "i adopted the plan of keeping an accurate account of merchandise bought and sold each day, with the profit as far as practicable. this plan was pursued for a number of years; and i never found my merchandise fall short in taking an account of stock, which i did as often at least as once in each year. i was thus enabled to form an opinion of my actual state as a business man. i adopted also the rule always to have property, after my second year's business, to represent forty per cent. at least more than i owed; that is, never to be in debt more than two and a half times my capital. this caution saved me from ever getting embarrassed. if it were more generally adopted, we should see fewer failures in business. excessive credit is the rock on which so many business men are broken. "when i commenced, the embargo had just been laid, and with such restrictions on trade that many were induced to leave it. but i felt great confidence, that, by industry, economy, and integrity, i could get a living; and the experiment showed that i was right. most of the young men who commenced at that period failed by spending too much money, and using credit too freely. "i made about fifteen hundred dollars the first year, and more than four thousand the second. probably, had i made four thousand the first year, i should have failed the second or third year. i practised a system of rigid economy, and never allowed myself to spend a fourpence for unnecessary objects until i had acquired it." it is known to many of mr. lawrence's friends that his father mortgaged his farm, and loaned the proceeds to his son; thereby enabling him, as some suppose, to do what he could not have done by his own unaided efforts. to show how far this supposition is correct, the following extract is given. it is copied from the back of the original mortgage deed, now lying before the writer, and bearing date of september , . the extract is dated march, : "the review of this transaction always calls up the deep feelings of my heart. my honored father brought to me the one thousand dollars, and asked me to give him my note for it. i told him he did wrong to place himself in a situation to be made unhappy, if i lost the money. he told me he _guessed i wouldn't lose it_, and i gave him my note. the first thing i did was to take four per cent. premium on my boston bills (the difference then between passable and boston money), and send a thousand dollars in bills of the hillsborough bank to amherst, new hampshire, by my father, to my brother l. to carry to the bank and get specie, as he was going there to attend court that week. my brother succeeded in getting specie, principally in silver change, for the bills, and returned it to me in a few days. in the mean time, or shortly after, the bank had been sued, the bills discredited, and, in the end, proved nearly worthless. i determined not to use the money, except in the safest way; and therefore loaned it to messrs. parkman, in whom i had entire confidence. after i had been in business, and had made more than a thousand dollars, i felt that i could repay the money, come what would of it; being insured against fire, and trusting nobody for goods. i used it in my business, but took care to pay off the mortgage as soon as it would be received. the whole transaction is deeply interesting, and calls forth humble and devout thanksgiving to that merciful father who has been to us better than our most sanguine hopes." in alluding to this transaction in another place, he says: "this incident shows how dangerous it is to the independence and comfort of families, for parents to take pecuniary responsibilities for their sons in trade, beyond their power of meeting them without embarrassment. had my hillsborough bank notes not been paid as they were, nearly the whole amount would have been lost, and myself and family might probably have been ruined. the incident was so striking, that i have uniformly discouraged young men who have applied to me for credit, offering their fathers as bondsmen; and, by doing so, i have, i believe, saved some respectable families from ruin. my advice, however, has been sometimes rejected with anger. a young man who cannot get along without such aid will not be likely to get along with it. on the first day of january, , i had been but a few days in business; and the profits on all my sales to that day were one hundred and seventy-five dollars and eighteen cents. the expenses were to come out, and the balance was my capital. in , the sum had increased to such an amount as i thought would be good for my descendants; and, from that time, i have been my own executor. how shall i show my sense of responsibility? surely by active deeds more than by unmeaning words. god grant me to be true and faithful in his work!" having become fairly established in boston, mr. lawrence concluded to take his brother abbott, then fifteen years of age, as an apprentice. on the th of october, , abbott accordingly joined his brother, who says of him: "in , he came to me as my apprentice, bringing his bundle under his arm, with less than three dollars in his pocket (and this was his fortune); a first-rate business lad he was, but, like other bright lads, needed the careful eye of a senior to guard him from the pitfalls that he was exposed to." in his diary of february , , he writes: "in the autumn of , i boarded at granger's coffee house, opposite brattle-street church; and, in the same house, mr. charles white took up his quarters, to prepare his then new play, called the 'clergyman's daughter.' he spent some months in preparing it to secure a _run_ for the winter; and used to have tennett, canfield, robert treat paine, and a host of others, to dine with him very often. i not unfrequently left the party at the dinner-table, and found them there when i returned to tea. among the boarders was a fair proportion of respectable young men, of different pursuits; and, having got somewhat interested for white, we all agreed to go, and help bring out his 'clergyman's daughter.' mrs. darley was the lady to personate her, and a more beautiful creature could not be found. she and her husband (who sung his songs better than any man i had ever heard then) had all the spirit of parties in interest. we filled the boxes, and encored, and all promised a great run. after three nights, we found few beside the friends, and it was laid aside a failure. in looking back, the picture comes fresh before me; and, among all, i do not recollect one who was the better, and most were ruined. the theatre is no better now." in , he resumes: "about this time, my brother william made me a little visit to recruit his health, which he had impaired by hard work on the farm, and by a generous attention to the joyous meetings of the young folks of both sexes, from six miles around, which meetings he never allowed to break in upon his work. he continued his visit through the winter, and became so much interested in my business that i agreed to furnish the store next my own for his benefit. soon after that, i was taken sick; and he bought goods for himself to start with, and pushed on without fear. from that time, he was successful as a business man. he used his property faithfully, and i trust acceptably to the master, who has called him to account for his talents. our father's advice to us was, "'do not fall out by the way, for a three-fold cord is not quickly broken.'" chapter v. visits at groton.--sickness.--letter from dr. shattuck.--engagement.--letter to rev. dr. gannett.--marriage. during these years, mr. lawrence was in the habit of making occasional visits to his parents in groton, thirty-five miles distant. his custom was to drive himself, leaving boston at a late hour on saturday afternoon, and often, as he says, encroaching upon the sabbath before reaching home. after midnight, on sunday, he would leave on his return; and thus was enabled to reach boston about daybreak on monday morning, without losing a moment's time in his business. in , mr. lawrence was seized with an alarming illness, through which he enjoyed the care and skill of his friend and physician, the late dr. g. c. shattuck, who, shortly before his own death, transmitted the following account of this illness to the editor of these pages, who also had the privilege of enjoying a friendship so much prized by his father: "feb. , . "more than forty years ago, new england was visited with a pestilence. the people were stricken with panic. the first victims were taken off unawares. in many towns in the interior of the commonwealth, the people assembled in town meeting, and voted to pay, from the town treasury, physicians to be in readiness to attend on any one assailed with the premonitory symptoms of disease. the distemper was variously named, cold plague, spotted fever, and malignant remittent fever. after a day of unusual exercise, your father was suddenly taken ill. the worthy family in which he boarded were prompt in their sympathy. a physician was called: neighbors and friends volunteered their aid. remedies were diligently employed. prayers in the church were offered up for the sick one. a pious father left his home, on the banks of the nashua, to be with his son. to the physician in attendance he gave a convulsive grasp of the hand, and, with eyes brimful of tears, and choked utterance, articulated, 'doctor, if amos has not money enough, i have!' to the anxious father his acres seemed like dust in the balance contrasted with the life of his son. he was a sensible man, acting on the principle that the stimulus of reward is a salutary adjunct to the promptings of humanity. god rebuked the disorder, though the convalescence was slow. a constitution with an originally susceptible nervous temperament had received a shock which rendered him a long time feeble. an apprentice, with a discretion beyond his years, maintained a healthy activity in his mercantile operations, to the quiet of his mind. he did not need great strength; for sagacity and decision supplied every other lack. supply and demand were as familiar to him as the alphabet. he knew the wants of the country, and sources of supply. accumulation followed his operations, and religious principle regulated the distribution of the cumbrous surplus. a sensible and pious father, aided by a prudent mother, had trained the child to become the future man. you will excuse my now addressing you, when you recur to the tradition that i had participated in the joy of the house when you first opened your eyes to the light. that god's promises to the seed of the righteous may extend to you and yours, is the prayer of your _early_ acquaintance, "george c. shattuck." but few details of mr. lawrence's business from this date until are now found. suffice it to say, that, through the difficult and troubled times in which the united states were engaged in the war with england, his efforts were crowned with success. dark clouds sometimes arose in the horizon, and various causes of discouragement from time to time cast a gloom over the mercantile world; but despondency formed no part of his character, while cool sagacity and unceasing watchfulness and perseverance enabled him to weather many a storm which made shipwreck of others around him. amidst the engrossing cares of business, however, mr. lawrence found time to indulge in more genial pursuits, as will be seen from the following lines, addressed to his sister: "boston, march , . "my not having written to you since your return, my dear m., has proceeded from my having other numerous avocations, and partly from a carelessness in such affairs reprehensible in me. you will, perhaps, be surprised to learn the extent and importance of my avocations; for, in addition to my usual routine of mercantile affairs, i have lately been engaged in a negotiation of the first importance, and which i have accomplished very much to my own satisfaction. it is no other than having offered myself as a husband to your very good friend sarah richards, which offer she has agreed to accept. so, next fall, you must set your mind on a wedding. sarah i have long known and esteemed: there is such a reciprocity of feelings, sentiments, and principles, that i have long thought her the most suitable person i have seen for me to be united with. much of my time, as you may well suppose, is spent in her society; and here i cannot but observe the infinite advantage of good sense and good principles over the merely elegant accomplishments of fashionable education. by the latter we may be fascinated for a time; but they will afford no satisfaction on retrospection. the former you are compelled to respect and to love. such qualities are possessed by sarah; and, were i to say anything further in her favor, it would be that she is beloved by you. adieu, my dear sister, a. l." as this volume is intended only for the perusal of the family and friends of the late amos lawrence, no apology need be made for introducing such incidents of his life, of a domestic nature, as may be thought interesting, and which it might not seem advisable to introduce under other circumstances. of this nature are some details connected with this engagement. the young lady here alluded to, whose solid qualities he thus, at the age of twenty-five and in the first flush of a successful courtship, so calmly discusses, in addition to these, possessed personal charms sufficient to captivate the fancy of even a more philosophical admirer than himself. her father, giles richards, was a man of great ingenuity, who resided in boston at the close of the revolutionary war. he owned an establishment for the manufactory of cards for preparing wool. a large number of men were employed; and, at that time, it was considered one of the objects worthy of notice by strangers. as such, it was visited by general washington on his northern tour; and may be found described, in the early editions of morse's geography, among the industrial establishments of boston. as in the case of many more noted men of inventive genius, his plans were more vast than the means of accomplishment; and the result was, loss of a handsome competency, and embarrassment in business, from which he retired with unsullied reputation, and passed his latter years in the vicinity of boston. here the evening of his life was cheered by the constant and watchful care of his wife, whose cheerful and happy temperament shed a radiance around his path, which, from a naturally desponding character, might otherwise have terminated in gloom. she had been the constant companion of her husband in all his journeyings and residences in nearly every state in the union, where his business had called him; and, after forty years, returned to die in the house where she was born,--the parsonage once occupied by her father, the rev. amos adams, of roxbury, who, at the time of the revolution, was minister of the church now under the pastoral care of the rev. dr. putnam. sarah had been placed in the family of the rev. dr. chaplin, minister of the church at groton, and was a member of the academy when mr. lawrence first made her acquaintance. "the academy balls, the agreeable partners in the hall, the pleasant companions in the stroll," remembered with so much pleasure in after life, were not improbably associated with this acquaintance, who had become a visitor and friend to his own sisters. after a separation of four years, the acquaintance was accidentally renewed in the year . sarah was on a visit at cambridge to the family of caleb gannett, esq., then and for many years afterwards steward of harvard university. in a letter to rev. dr. gannett, dated february , , mr. lawrence thus alludes to this interview: "my first interview with you, thirty-eight years ago, when you were led by the hand into the store where i then was, in cornhill, by that friend (who was afterwards my wife), unconscious of my being within thirty miles, after a four years' separation, connects you in my thoughts with her, her children and grandchildren, in a way that no one can appreciate who has not had the experience." enclosed in this letter was a faded paper, on which were written several verses of poetry, with the following explanation: "only think of your sainted mother writing this little scrap thirty-eight years ago, when on her death-bed, for her young friend, then on a visit to her, to teach to you, who could not read; and this scrap, written upon a blank term-bill without premeditation, being preserved by that friend while she lived, and, after her death, by her daughter while she lived, and, after her death, being restored to me as the rightful disposer of it; and my happening, within four days after, to meet you under such circumstances as made it proper to show it to you." mrs. gannett's hymn for her little boy in . how can a child forgetful prove of all that wakes the heart to love, and from the path of duty stray, to spend his time in sport and play; neglectful of the blessing given, which marks the path to peace and heaven? o! how can i, who daily share a mother's kind, assiduous care, be idle, and ungrateful too; forsake the good, the bad pursue; neglectful of the blessings given, which mark the path to peace and heaven? o! how can i such folly show, when faults indulged to vices grow,-- who know that idle days ne'er make men that are useful, good, or great? dear mother, still be thou my guide, nor suffer me my faults to hide; and o may god his grace impart to fix my feeble, foolish heart, that i may wait the blessing given, which marks the path to peace and heaven! mem.--mrs. gannett died soon after writing this on a blank term-bill of harvard college, in .--a. l., . the marriage of mr. lawrence took place in boston, on the th of june, , three months after announcing his engagement to his sister. chapter vi. bramble news.--junior partner goes to england.--letters to brother. in , mr. lawrence writes as follows: "on the st of january, , i took my brother abbott into partnership on equal shares, putting fifty thousand dollars, that i had then earned, into the concern. three days afterwards, the 'bramble news' came, by which the excessive high price of goods was knocked down. our stock was then large, and had cost a high price. he was in great anguish, considering himself a bankrupt for at least five thousand dollars. i cheered him by offering to cancel our copartnership indentures, give him up his note, and, at the end of the year, pay him five thousand dollars. he declined the offer, saying i should lose that, and more beside, and, as he had enlisted, would do the best he could. this was in character, and it was well for us both. he was called off to do duty as a soldier, through most of the year. i took care of the business, and prepared to retreat with my family into the country whenever the town seemed liable to fall into the hands of the british, who were very threatening in their demonstrations. we still continue mercantile business under the first set of indentures, and under the same firm, merely adding '& co.,' as new partners have been admitted." in march, , the junior partner embarked on board the ship milo, the first vessel which sailed from boston for england after the proclamation of peace. on the eve of his departure, he received from his brother and senior partner a letter containing many good counsels for his future moral guidance, as well as instructions in relation to the course of business to be pursued. from that letter, dated march th, the following extracts are taken: "my dear brother: i have thought best, before you go abroad, to suggest a few hints for your benefit in your intercourse with the people among whom you are going. as a first and leading principle, let every transaction be of that pure and honest character that you would not be ashamed to have appear before the whole world as clearly as to yourself. in addition to the advantages arising from an honest course of conduct with your fellow-men, there is the satisfaction of reflecting within yourself that you have endeavored to do your duty; and, however greatly the best may fall short of doing all they ought, they will be sure not to do more than their principles enjoin. "it is, therefore, of the highest consequence that you should not only cultivate correct principles, but that you should place your standard of action so high as to require great vigilance in living up to it. "in regard to your business transactions, let everything be so registered in your books, that any person, without difficulty, can understand the whole of your concerns. you may be cut off in the midst of your pursuits, and it is of no small consequence that your temporal affairs should always be so arranged that you may be in readiness. "if it is important that you should be well prepared in this point of view, how much more important is it that you should be prepared in that which relates to eternity! "you are young, and the course of life seems open, and pleasant prospects greet your ardent hopes; but you must remember that the race is not always to the swift, and that however flattering may be your prospects, and however zealously you may seek pleasure, you can never find it except by cherishing pure principles, and practising right conduct. my heart is full on this subject, my dear brother, and it is the only one on which i feel the least anxiety. "while here, your conduct has been such as to meet my entire approbation; but the scenes of another land may be more than your principles will stand against. i say, _may be_, because young men, of as fair promise as yourself, have been lost by giving a small latitude (innocent in the first instance) to their propensities. but i pray the father of all mercies to have you in his keeping, and preserve you amid temptations. * * * * * "i can only add my wish to have you write me frequently and particularly, and that you will embrace every opportunity of gaining information. your affectionate brother, "amos lawrence. "to abbott lawrence." again, on the th of the month, he writes to the same, after his departure: "i hope you will have arrived in england early in april; and if so, you will be awaiting with anxious solicitude the arrival of the 'galen,' by which vessel you will receive letters from _home_, a word which brings more agreeable associations to the mind and feelings of a young stranger in a foreign land than any other in our language. i have had many fears that you have had a rough passage, as the weather on the friday following your departure was very boisterous, and continued so for a number of days, and much of the time since has been uncomfortable. i trust, however, that the same good hand which supplies our daily wants has directed your course to the desired port. "with a just reliance on that power, we need have no fear, though winds and waves should threaten our destruction. the interval between the time of bidding adieu and of actual departure called into exercise those fine feelings which those only have who can prize friends, and on that account i was happy to see so much feeling in yourself. "since your departure nothing of a public nature has transpired of particular interest. all that there is of news or interest among us you will gather from the papers forwarded. "those affairs which relate particularly to ourselves will be of as much interest as any; i shall therefore detail our business operations. * * * * * "my next and constant direction will be to keep a particular watch over yourself, that you do not fall into any habits of vice; and, as a means of preserving yourself, i would most strictly enjoin that your sabbaths be not spent in noise and riot, but that you attend the public worship of god. this you may think an unnecessary direction to you, who have always been in the habit of doing so. i hope it may be; at any rate, it will do no harm. "that you may be blessed with health, and enjoy properly the blessings of life, is the wish of your ever affectionate brother, "a. l. "to abbott lawrence." (to abbott lawrence.) "boston, april th, . "my dear brother: by the favor of heaven i trust ere this you have landed upon the soil from which sprang our forefathers. in the contemplation of that wonderful 'isle' on your first arrival, there must be a feeling bordering on devotion. the thousand new objects, which make such constant demand on your attention, will not, i hope, displace the transatlantic friends from the place they should occupy in your remembrance. already do i begin to count the days when i may reasonably hear from you. "i pray you to let no opportunity pass without writing, as you will be enabled to appreciate the pleasure your letters will give by those which you receive from home. since your departure, our father has been dangerously ill; he seems fast recovering, but we much fear a relapse, when he would, in all probability, be immediately deprived of life, or his disease would so far weaken him as to terminate his usefulness. our mother continues as comfortable as when you left us. should you live to return, probably one or both our parents may not be here to welcome you; we have particular reason for thankfulness that they have both been spared to us so long, and have been so useful in the education of their children. "all others of our connection have been in health since your departure, and a comfortable share of happiness seems to have been enjoyed by all. * * * * * "now for advice: you are placed in a particularly favorable situation, my dear brother, for improving yourself in the knowledge of such things as will hereafter be useful to you. let no opportunity pass without making the most of it. there are necessarily many vacant hours in your business, which ought not to pass unemployed. i pretend not to suggest particular objects for your attention, but only the habit generally of active employment, which, while making your time useful and agreeable to yourself, will be the best safeguard to your virtue. the american character, i trust, is somewhat respected in england at this time, notwithstanding it was lately at so low an ebb; and i would wish every american to endeavor to do something to improve it. especially do i wish you, my dear a., who visit that country under circumstances so favorable, to do your part in establishing a character for your country as well as for yourself. thus prays your affectionate brother, a. l." to his wife, at groton, mr. lawrence writes, under date of june , : "the milo got in yesterday, and brought letters from abbott, dated th april. he was then in manchester, and enjoyed the best health. he wrote to our father, which letter, i hope, will arrive at groton by to-morrow's mail. i received from him merchandise, which i hope to get out of the ship and sell this week. i suspect there are few instances of a young man leaving this town, sending out goods, and having them sold within ninety days from the time of his departure. it is eighty-four days this morning since he left home." (to abbott lawrence.) "boston, june , . "dear brother: by the arrival of the milo last saturday, and packet on monday, i received your several letters, giving an account of your proceedings. you are as famous among your acquaintances here for the rapidity of your movements as bonaparte. mr. ---- thinks that you leave bonaparte entirely in the background. i really feel a little proud, my dear brother, of your conduct. few instances of like despatch are known. "the sensations you experienced in being greeted so heartily by the citizens of liverpool, were not unlike those you felt on hearing the news of peace. i am happy to state to you that our father has so far recovered from his illness as to be able to attend to his farm. our mother's health is much as when you left. "your friends here feel a good deal of interest in your welfare, and read with deep interest your letters to them. the opportunity is peculiarly favorable for establishing a reputation as a close observer of men and manners, and for those improvements which travelling is reputed to give. "when writing to you sentences of advice, my heart feels all the tender sympathies and affections which bind me to my own children. this is my apology, if any be necessary, for so frequently touching on subjects for your moral improvement. "in any condition i can subscribe myself no other than your ever affectionate brother, a. l." chapter vii. death of sister.--letters. on the th of august, , mr. lawrence, in the following letter to his brother, announced the sudden death of a sister, who to youth and beauty united many valuable qualities of mind and character: "to you, who are at such a distance from home, and employed in the busy pursuits of life, the description of domestic woe will not come with such force as on us who were eye-witnesses to an event which we and all our friends shall not cease to deplore. we have attended this morning to the last sad office of affection to our loved sister s. although for ourselves we mourn the loss of so much excellence, yet for her we rejoice that her race is so soon run. we are permitted to hope that she is now a saint in heaven, celebrating before the throne of her father the praises of the redeemed. she met death in the enjoyment of that hope which is the peculiar consolation of the believer. this event, i know, my dear brother, is calculated to awaken all the tender recollections of home, and to call forth all your sympathy for the anguish of friends; but it is also calculated to soften the heart, and to guide you in your own preparation for that great day of account. the admonition, i hope, may not be lost on any of us, and happy will it be for us if we use it aright." (to the same.) "boston, october , . "dear abbott: by this vessel i have written to you, but am always desirous of communicating the last intelligence from home, therefore i write again. the situation of our town, our country, our friends, and all the objects of endearment, continues the same as heretofore. we are, to be sure, getting into a religious controversy which does not promise to increase the stock of charity among us, but good will undoubtedly arise from it. the passions of some of our brethren are too much engaged, and it would seem from present appearances that consequences unfavorable to the cause of our master may ensue; but the wrath of man is frequently made subservient to the best purposes, and the good of mankind may in this case be greatly promoted by what at present seems a great evil. men's passions are but poor guides to the discovery of truth, but they may sometimes elicit light by which others may get at the truth. "it does seem to me that a man need only use his common sense, and feel a willingness to be instructed in the reading of the scriptures, and there is enough made plain to his understanding to direct him in the way he should go. "others, however, think differently; but that should not be a reason with me for calling them hard names, especially if by their lives they show that they are followers of the same master." on december d, he writes again: "i heard from you verbally on the st of october, in company with a platoon of new england guards; and hope the head of the corps allowed lord wellington the honor of an introduction, and of inspecting this choice corps, which once had the honor of protecting the constitution and independence of the united states, when menaced by the 'proud sons of britain.' this is a theme on which _you_ may be allowed to dwell with some delight, although there are no recitals of hair-breadth escapes and hard-fought actions, when numbers bit the dust. yet to you, who were active in performing duty, this should be a source of comfortable feeling, as the amount of human misery has not been increased by your means. shakspeare's knight of sack thought 'the better part of valor was discretion,' but i do not believe the guards would have confirmed this sentiment, had the opportunity offered for a trial. i am really glad to hear of you in paris, and hope you will improve every moment of your time in acquiring information that will be agreeable and interesting; and, more particularly, i hope you will have gone over the ground where the great events have happened that now allow europe to repose in peace. how much should i delight in a few hours' intercourse with you; but that must be deferred to another period, perhaps to a very distant period. "i feel very healthy and very happy; my wife and children all enjoying health, and a good share of the bounties of providence in various ways. well you may be contented, you will say. what more is wanting? such is not always the lot of man possessing those blessings. there is often a voracious appetite for other and greater blessings. the desire for more splendor, the possession of more wealth, is coveted, without the disposition to use it as an accountable creature; and too late the poor man finds that all his toil for these earthly objects of his worship fails in satisfying or giving a good degree of content. i, therefore, have reason for thankfulness that i am blessed with a disposition to appreciate tolerably the temporal blessings i enjoy. to the father of all mercies i am indebted for this and every other good thing; even for the increased affection with which i think of you. that he may bless and keep you, dear abbott, is the prayer of your brother, a. l." on june th, , a few days after the birth of a daughter, he writes to a friend: "i am the richest man, i suppose, that there is on this side of the water, and the richest because i am the happiest. on the d ult. i was blessed by the birth of a fine little daughter; this, as you may well suppose, has filled our hearts with joy. s. is very comfortable, and is not less gratified than i am. i wish you were a married man, and then (if you had a good wife) you would know how to appreciate the pleasures of a parent. i have lately thought more than ever of the propriety of your settling soon. it is extremely dangerous to defer making a connection until a late period; for a man is in more and more danger of not forming one the longer he puts it off; and any man who does not form this connection grossly miscalculates in the use of the means which god has given him to supply himself with pleasures in the downhill journey of life. "he is also foolish to allow himself to be cheated in this connection by the prospect of a few present advantages, to the exclusion of the more permanent ones. every man's best pleasures should be at home; for there is the sphere for the exercise of his best virtues; and he should be particularly careful, in the selection of a partner, to get one who will jeopardize neither. on this subject, you know, i am always eloquent. but, at this time, there is reason for my being so, as it is the anniversary of my wedding day. "s. has put her eye on a _rib_ for you. the said person, you must know, is of a comely appearance (not beautiful), is rather taller than ----, has a good constitution, is perfectly acquainted with domestic economy, and has all the most desirable of the fashionable accomplishments, such as music, painting &c.; and my only objection to her is, as far as i have observed her, that she has a few thousand dollars in cash. this, however, might be remedied; for, after furnishing a house, the balance might be given to her near connections, or to some public institution. i will give no further description, but will only say that her connections are such as you would find pleasure in. no more on this subject. the subject of principal interest among us now is the new tariff of duties." * * * * chapter viii. domestic habits.--illness and death of wife. in searching for records of the business at this period, the first copied letters are found in a volume commencing with the date of march , ; since which period the correspondence, contained in many volumes, is complete. on the first page of this volume is a letter from the senior partner somewhat characteristic. it relates to a bill of exchange for two thousand rupees, which he knew was a doubtful one, but which he had taken to relieve the pressing necessities of a young englishwoman from calcutta, with a worthless husband. he writes to his friends in that city: "we have been so particular as to send a clerk to her with the money, that we might be sure of her receiving it. previous to her receiving the money from us, we were told her children were ragged, barefooted, and hungry; afterwards we knew they were kept comfortably clad." in tracing the course of business as revealed by the perusal of the correspondence, it is evident that mr. lawrence's time and attention must have been engrossed by the increasing importance and magnitude of the mercantile operations of his firm. the cares and perplexities of the day did not, however, unfit him for the quiet enjoyments of domestic life; and, however great and urgent were the calls upon his time and his thoughts from abroad, home, with its endearments, occupied the first place in his affections. so much did its interests transcend all others in his feelings, that he speaks in after life of having "watched night and day without leaving, for a fortnight," a sick child; and then being rewarded for his care by having it restored to him after the diligent application of remedies, when the physician and friends had given up all hope of recovery. with such affections and sources of happiness, connected with prosperity in his affairs, it may well be supposed that the current of life flowed smoothly on. his evenings were passed at home; and urgent must have been the call which could draw him from his fireside, where the social chat or friendly book banished the cares of the day. a gentleman, now a prominent merchant in new york, who was a clerk with mr. lawrence at this time, says of him: "when the business season was over, he would sit down with me, and converse freely and familiarly, and would have something interesting and useful to say. i used to enjoy these sittings; and, while i always feared to do anything, or leave anything undone, which would displease him, i at the same time had a very high regard, and i may say love, for him, such as i never felt for any other man beside my own father. he had a remarkable faculty of bringing the sterling money into our currency, with any advance, by a calculation in his mind, and would give the result with great accuracy in one quarter of the time which it took me to do it by figures. i used to try hard to acquire this faculty, but could not, and never saw any other person who possessed it to the degree he did. his mind was remarkably vigorous and accurate; and consequently his business was transacted in a prompt and correct manner. nothing was left undone until to-morrow which could be done to-day. he was master of and controlled his business, instead of allowing his business to master and control him. when i took charge of the books, they were kept by single entry; and mr. lawrence daily examined every entry to detect errors. he was dissatisfied with this loose way of keeping the books; and, at his request, i studied book-keeping by double entry with mr. gershom cobb, who had just introduced the new and shorter method of double entry. i then transferred the accounts into a new set of books on this plan, and well remember his anxiety during the process, and his expression of delight when the work was completed, and i had succeeded in making the first trial-balance come out right. this was the first set of books opened in boston on the new system. while mr. lawrence required all to fulfil their engagements fully and promptly, so long as they were able to do so, he was lenient to those who were unfortunate, and always ready to compromise demands against such. no case occurred, while i was with him, which i thought he dealt harshly with a debtor who had failed in business." the year opened with cheering prospects; but a cloud was gathering which was destined to cast a shadow over all these pleasant hopes. during the spring, mrs. lawrence was troubled with a cough, which became so obstinate at the beginning of the summer, that she was persuaded to remain at groton for a short period, in order to try the benefit of country air. mr. lawrence writes to her, july : "i am forcibly reminded of the blessings of wife, children, and friends, by the privation of wife and children; and, when at home, i really feel homesick and lonesome. here i am, in two great rooms, almost alone; so you must prepare at a minute's notice to follow your husband." she remained in the country for several weeks, and was summoned suddenly home by the alarming illness of her husband; the result of which, for a time, seemed very doubtful. after a season of intense anxiety and unremitted watchings at his bedside, mrs. lawrence was seized during the night with a hemorrhage from the lungs. this symptom, which so much alarmed her friends, was hailed by herself with joy, as she now had no wish to outlive her husband, whose life she had despaired of. mr. lawrence's recovery was slow; and, as soon as it was deemed prudent, he was sent to groton to recruit his strength. he writes, under date of november , : "dearest sarah: we have heard of the fire on tuesday evening, and hope the alarm has not impaired your health. i enjoy myself here as much as it is possible for any one to do under like circumstances: the idea of leaving the objects most dear to me, a wife and child sick, is too great a drawback upon my happiness to allow me as much quiet as is desirable. yet i have great reason for thankfulness that i am at this time able to enjoy the society of friends, and that you are so comfortable as to give good reason to hope that the next season will restore to you a tolerable share of health." mrs. lawrence writes, in reply to his letter: "i have just received yours, and feel better to hear that you are so well. i hope that you will leave no means unimproved to regain health. do not allow unreasonable fears on my account. i am as well as i was the week past; but we are uneasy mortals, and i do not improve as i could wish. you know me: therefore make all allowances. it is a cloudy day." it soon became evident to all that the disease under which mrs. lawrence labored was a settled consumption, and that there could be little hope of recovery. to her mother mr. lawrence writes, dec. : "since i last wrote to you, there has been no material change in sarah's situation. she suffers less pain, and has more cheerful spirits than when you were here. she is very well apprised of her situation, and complains that those who are admitted to see her look so sorrowful, that it has a painful effect upon her feelings. she is desirous of being kept cheerful and happy; and, as far as i am capable of making her so, i do it. yet i am a poor hand to attempt doing, with my feeble health, what is so foreign to my feelings. although she is much more comfortable than she was, i cannot flatter myself that she is any better. she still retains a faint hope that she may be so; yet it is but a faint one. it takes much from my distress to see her so calm, and so resigned to the will of the almighty. although her attachments to life are as strong and as numerous as are the attachments of most, i believe the principle of resignation is stronger. she is a genuine disciple of christ; and, if my children walk in her steps, they will all be gathered among the blest, and sing the song of the redeemed. should it be the will of god that we be separated for a season, there is an animation in the hope that we shall meet again, purified from the grossness of the flesh, and never to be parted. 'god tempers the wind to the shorn lamb.' i shall have, therefore, no more put upon me than i am able to bear; yet i know not how to bring my mind to part with so excellent a friend, and so good a counsellor." on jan. , , he writes: "sarah has continued to sink since you left, and is now apparently very easy, and very near the termination of her earthly career. she may continue two or three days; but the prospect is, that she will not open her eyes upon another morning. she suffers nothing, and it is, therefore, no trial to our feelings, compared with what it would be did she suffer. her mind is a little clouded at times, but, in the main, quite clear. we shall give you early information of the event which blasts our dearest earthly hopes. _but god reigns: let us rejoice._" a few hours before her death, she called for a paper (now in possession of the writer), and, with a pencil, traced, in a trembling hand, some directions respecting small memorials to friends, and then added: "feeling that i must soon depart from this, i trust, to a better world, i resign very dear friends to god, who has done so much for me. i am in ecstacies of love. how can i praise him enough! to my friends i give these tokens of remembrance." on the th of january, , mr. lawrence closed the eyes of this most beloved of all his earthly objects, and immediately relapsed into a state of melancholy and gloom, which was, no doubt, greatly promoted by the peculiar state of health and physical debility under which he had labored since his last illness. a valued friend writes, a few days after the death of mrs. l.: "it was my privilege to witness the closing scene; to behold faith triumphing over sense, and raising the soul above this world of shadows. it was a spectacle to convince the sceptic, and to animate and confirm the christian. about a week before her death, her increasing weakness taught her the fallacy of all hope of recovery. from this time, it was the business of every moment to prepare herself and her friends for the change which awaited her. serene, and even cheerful, she could look forward without apprehension into the dark valley, and beyond it she beheld those bright regions where she should meet her saviour, through whose mediation she had the blessed assurance that her sins were pardoned, and her inheritance secure. god permitted a cloud to obscure the bright prospect; it was but for a moment, and the sun broke forth with redoubled splendor. on the last night of her life, she appeared to suffer extremely, though, when asked, she constantly replied in the negative. she repeated, in a feeble voice, detached portions of hymns of which she had been fond. towards morning, as she appeared nearly insensible, mrs. r. was persuaded to lie down and rest. shortly after, sarah roused herself, and said to l., 'i am going; call my mother.' mrs. r. was at her bedside immediately, and asked her if she was sensible that she was leaving the world. she answered 'yes,' and expressed her resignation. "mrs. r. then repeated a few lines of pope's dying christian, and the expiring saint, in broken accents, followed her. on her mother's saying 'the world recedes,' she added, 'it disappears,--heaven opens.' these were the last words i heard her utter. she then became insensible, and in about ten minutes expired. not a sound interrupted the sacred silence; the tear of affection was shed, but no lamentation was heard. the eye of affection dwelt on the faded form, but faith pointed to those regions where the blessed spirit was admitted to those joys which eye has not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive. mr. l. is wonderfully supported. he feels as a man and a christian." upon this letter mr. lawrence has endorsed the following memorandum: "i saw this letter to-day for the first time. my son-in-law handed to me yesterday a number of memorials of my beloved daughter, who was called home on the second day of december last, when only a few months younger than her mother, whose death is so beautifully described within. the description brought the scene back to my mind with a force that unmanned me for a time, and leads me to pray most earnestly and humbly that i may be found worthy to join them through the beloved, when my summons comes. a. l. "february th, ." chapter ix. journeys.--letters.--journey to new york. the sense of loss and the state of depression under which mr. lawrence labored were so great, that he was advised to try a change of scene; and accordingly, after having placed his three children with kind relatives in the country, he left boston, on a tour, which lasted some weeks, through the middle states and virginia. he wrote many letters during this time, describing the scenes which he daily witnessed, and particularly the pleasure which he experienced in virginia from the unbounded hospitality with which he was welcomed by those with whom he had become acquainted. he also visited washington, and listened to some important debates on the admission of missouri into the union, which produced a strong and lasting influence upon his mind respecting the great questions then discussed. in a letter to his brother from the latter city, dated feb. th, after describing a visit to the tomb of washington at mount vernon, he writes: "friend webster has taken a stand here which no man can surpass; very few are able to keep even with him. he has made a wonderful argument for the united states bank. if he does not stand confessedly first among the advocates here, he does not stand second. tell brother l. of this; it will do him good." on march , he writes to his sister, after his return to boston: "i am once more near the remains of her who was lately more dear to me than any other earthly object, after an absence of two months; my health much improved,--i may say restored; my heart filled with gratitude to the author of all good for so many and rich blessings, so rapidly succeeding such severe privations and trials." a few days later, he writes to his sister-in-law: "sunday evening, april , . "dear s.: it is proper that i should explain to you why my feelings got so much the better of my reason at the celebration of the sacrament this morning. the last time i attended that service was with my beloved s., after an absence on her part of fifteen months, during which period you well know what passed in both our minds. on this occasion our minds and feelings were elevated with devotion, and (as i trust) suitably affected with gratitude to the father of mercies for once more permitting her to celebrate with her husband this memorial of our saviour. then, indeed, were our hearts gladdened by the cheering prospect of her returning health and continued life. the consideration that i had since this period been almost within the purlieu of the grave, that my beloved sarah had fallen a sacrifice to her care and anxiety for me, and that i was for the first time at the table of the lord without her, with a view to celebrate the most solemn service of our religion, overwhelmed me as a torrent, and my feelings were too powerful to be restrained; i was almost suffocated in the attempt. "comment is unnecessary. god grant us a suitable improvement of the scene! "your affectionate brother, a. l." on april , he writes to a friend in england: "since i last wrote, family misfortunes, of which you have from time to time been apprised, have pressed heavily upon me. i am now in tolerable health, and hope soon to see it entirely confirmed." after a visit to his parents, at groton, he says, on april : "i arrived at home last saturday night, at eleven o'clock, after rather an uncomfortable ride. however, i had the satisfaction on monday of exercising my right of suffrage, which, had i not done, i should have felt unpleasantly. i wrote to m., on tuesday, under a depression of spirits altogether greater than i have before felt. the effect of hope upon my feelings, before i saw the little ones, was very animating; since that time (although i found them all i could desire), the stimulus is gone, and i have been very wretched. the principles i cherish will now have their proper effect, although nature must first find its level. do not imagine i feel severely depressed all the time; although i certainly have much less of animal spirits than i had before my return, i do not feel positively unhappy. under all the circumstances it is thought best for me to journey. hitherto, i have experienced the kind protection of an almighty friend; it will not hereafter be withheld. commending all dear friends and myself to him, i remain your truly affectionate brother, "a. l." to another sister he writes five days afterwards, before commencing a second journey: "in a few moments i am off. i gladly seize the leisure they furnish me, to tell you i feel well, and have no doubt of having such a flow of spirits as will make my journey pleasant. at any rate, i start with this determination. you know not, dear e., the delight i feel in contemplating the situation of my little ones; this (if no higher principle) should be sufficient to do away all repining and vain regrets for the loss of an object so dear as was their mother. in short, her own wishes should operate very strongly against these regrets. i hope to be forgiven the offence, if such it be; and to make such improvement of it as will subserve the purposes of my heavenly father, who doth not willingly afflict the children of men, but for their improvement. my prayer to god is, that the affliction may not be lost upon me; but that it may have the effect of making me estimate more justly the value of all temporal objects, and, by thus softening the heart, open it to the kind influences of our holy religion, and produce that love and charity well pleasing to our father. i have no object in view further south than baltimore; from thence i shall go across the alleghanies, or journey through the interior to the northern border of this country. at baltimore i remain a few days; my business there is as delegate from brattle-street church, in the settlement of a minister, a young gentleman named sparks, from connecticut." (to abbott lawrence.) "philadelphia, april , . "dear brother: when i see how people in other places are doing business, i feel that we have reason to thank god that we are not obliged to do as they do, but are following that regular and profitably safe business that allows us to sleep well o' nights, and eat the bread of industry and quietness. the more i see of the changes produced by violent speculation, the more satisfied i am that our maxims are the only true ones for a life together. different maxims may prove successful for a part of life, but will frequently produce disastrous results just at the time we stand most in need; that is, when life is on the wane, and a family is growing around us. "two young brokers in ---- have played a dashing game. they have taken nearly one hundred thousand dollars from the bank, without the consent of the directors. a clerk discounted for them. they have lost it by united states bank speculations. "look after clerks well, if you wish to keep them honest. too good a reputation sometimes tempts men to sin, upon the strength of their reputation. "as to business, it must be bad enough; that is nothing new; but patience and perseverance will overcome all obstacles, and, notwithstanding all things look so dark, i look for a good year's work. "you must remember that i have done nothing yet, and i have never failed of accomplishing more than my expectations; so i say again, we will make a good year's work of it yet, by the blessing of heaven." from lancaster, penn., april , he writes to his sister: "my feelings are usually buoyant, except occasionally when imagination wanders back to departed days; then comes over me a shadow, which, by its frequency, i am now enabled to dispel without violence, and even to dwell upon without injury." (to abbott lawrence.) "baltimore, may , . "dear brother: i arrived in this city this morning, in the steamboat, from norfolk, and have found a number of letters from you and brother w. from the present aspect of affairs in this city, i fear that i shall make but a short stay. at no period has the face of affairs been more trying to the feelings of the citizens. baltimore has never seen but two days which will compare with last friday: one of those was the mob day, the other was the day of the attack by the british. "nearly one half the city, embracing its most active and hitherto wealthiest citizens, have stopped or must stop payment. confidence is prostrated, capital vanished. "i am rejoiced to hear of your easy situation, and hope it may continue. avoid responsibilities, and all is well with us. i am in no wise avaricious, and of course care not whether we make five thousand dollars more or less, if we risk twenty thousand to do it. "i have a high eulogium to pay the virginians, which i must reserve for another letter; as also an account of my travels from petersburg." in a letter to a friend, dated at baltimore, he says: "since i have been here, i have been constantly occupied; and, although the heavy cloud which overhangs this city is discharging its contents upon their heads, they bear it well, resolving that, if they are poor, they will not be unsocial, nor uncivil, and on this principle they meet in little groups, without much style or ceremony, and pass sensible and sociable evenings together. "i have really become very much interested in some of the people here. "and now my advice to you is, get married, and have no fear about the expense being too great. if you have two children born unto you within a twelve-month, you will be the richer man for it. nothing sharpens a man's wits, in earning property and using it, better than to see a little flock growing up around him. so i say again, man, fear not." on his return, it seems to have been his object to interest himself as much as possible in business, and thus endeavor to divert his mind from those painful associations, which, in spite of all his efforts, would sometimes obtain the mastery. in the mean time, he had given up his house, and resided in the family of his brother abbott; where he was welcomed as an inmate, and treated with so much sympathy and considerate kindness, that his mind, after a time, recovered its tone: his health was restored, and he was once more enabled to give his full powers to the growing interests of his firm. for the few succeeding years, he was engaged in the usual routine of mercantile affairs, and has left but few memorials or letters, except those relating to his business. in the winter of , he made a visit to new york, which he describes in his diary under date of february , : "yesterday was one of the most lovely winter days. to-day the snow drives into all the cracks and corners, it being a boisterous easterly snow-storm, which recalls to my mind a similar one, which i shall never forget, in february, . "i went to new york during that month, for the new england bank, with about one hundred thousand dollars in foreign gold, the value of which by law at the mint was soon to be reduced from eighty-seven to eighty-five cents per pennyweight, or about that. i also had orders to buy bills with it, at the best rate i could. accordingly i invested it, and had to analyze the standing of many who offered bills, as drawers or endorsers. "some of the bills were protested for non-acceptance, and were returned at once, and damages claimed. this was new law in new york, and resisted; but the merchants were convinced by suits, and paid the twenty per cent. damages. the law of damage was altered soon after. "on my return, i took a packet for providence, and came at the rate of ten knots an hour for the first seven hours of the night. i was alarmed by a crash, which seemed to me to be breaking in the side of the ship, within a few inches of my head. i ran upon deck, and it was a scene to be remembered. beside the crew, on board were the officers of a wrecked vessel from portsmouth, n. h., and some other old ship-masters, all at work, and giving directions to a coaster, which had run foul of us, and had lost its way. by favor and labor, we were saved from being wrecked; but were obliged to land at some fifteen miles from providence, and get there as we could through the snow. i arrived there almost dead with headache and sickness. madam dexter and her daughter left the day before, and reached home in perfect safety before the storm. such are the scenes of human life! here am i enjoying my own fireside, while all who were then active with me in the scenes thus recalled are called to their account, excepting philip hone, m. van schaick, n. goddard, chancellor kent, and his son-in-law, isaac hone." chapter x. marriage.--elected to legislature.--engages in manufactures.--reflections. in april, , mr. lawrence was married to mrs. nancy ellis, widow of the late judge ellis, of claremont, n. h., and daughter of robert means, esq., of amherst, in the same state. his children, who had been placed with his parents and sisters at groton, were brought home; and he was now permitted again to unite his family under his own roof, and to enjoy once more those domestic comforts so congenial to his taste, and which each revolving year seemed to increase until the close of his life. mr. lawrence was elected a representative from boston to the legislature for the session of and ; and this was the only occasion on which he ever served in a public legislative body. although deeply engaged in his own commercial pursuits, he was constantly at his post in the house of representatives; and attended faithfully to the duties of his office, although with much sacrifice to his own personal interests. very little is found among his memoranda relating to this new experience. as a member of a committee of the legislature having in charge the subject of the erection of wooden buildings in boston, he seems to have had a correspondence with the late hon. john lowell, who took strong ground before the committee against the multiplication of buildings of this material, and backed his arguments with some very characteristic statements and observations. on one of these letters mr. lawrence made a memorandum, dated march, , as follows: "the _boston rebel_ was a true man, such as we need more of in these latter days. the open-mouthed lovers of the _dear people_ are self-seekers in most instances. beware of such." the following extract is taken from a letter, dated january th, , addressed by mr. lawrence to hon. frederic wolcott, of connecticut, respecting a son who was about to be placed in his counting-room, and who, in after years, became his partner in business: "h. will have much leisure in the evening, which, if he choose, may be profitably devoted to study; and we hope he will lay out such a course for himself, as to leave no portion of his time unappropriated. it is on account of so much leisure, that so many fine youths are ruined in this town. the habit of industry once well fixed, the danger is over. "will it not be well for him to furnish you, at stated periods, an exact account of his expenditures? the habit of keeping such an account will be serviceable, and, if he is prudent, the satisfaction will be great, ten years hence, in looking back and observing the process by which his character has been formed. if he does as well as he is capable, we have no doubt of your experiencing the reward of your care over him." for the several following years, mr. lawrence was deeply engaged in business; and the firm of which he was the senior partner became interested in domestic manufactures, which, with the aid of other capitalists, afterwards grew into so much importance, until now it has become one of the great interests of the country. apart from all selfish motives, he early became one of the strongest advocates for the protection of american industry, believing that the first duty of a government is to advance the interests of its own citizens, when it can be accomplished with justice to others; and in opposition to the system of free trade, which, however plausible in theory, he considered prejudicial to the true interests of our own people. he was conscientious in these opinions; and, in their support, corresponded largely with some of the leading statesmen at washington, as well as with prominent opponents at the south, who combatted his opinions while they respected the motives by which he was actuated. he tested his sincerity, by embarking a large proportion of his property in these enterprises; and, to the last, entertained the belief that the climate, the soil, and the habits of the people, rendered domestic manufactures one of the permanent and abiding interests of new england. during seasons of high political excitement and sectional strife, he wrote to various friends at the south, urging them to discard all local prejudices, and to enter with the north into manly competition in all those branches of domestic industry which would tend, not only to enrich, but also to improve the moral and intellectual character of their people. he watched, with increasing interest, the progress of lowell and other manufacturing districts, and was ever ready to lend a helping hand to any scheme which tended to advance their welfare. churches, hospitals, libraries, in these growing communities, had in him a warm and earnest advocate; and it was always with honest pride that he pointed out to the intelligent foreigner the moral condition of the operative here, when compared with that of the same class in other countries. on the st of january, in each year, mr. lawrence was in the habit of noting down, in a small memorandum-book, an accurate account of all his property, in order that he might have a clear view of his own affairs, and also as a guide to his executors in the settlement of his estate, in case of his death. this annual statement commences in , and, with the exception of , when he was in great affliction on account of the death of his wife, is continued every year until that of his own death, in . in this little volume the following memorandum occurs, dated january , : "i have been extensively engaged in business during the last two years, and have added much to my worldly possessions; but have come to the same conclusions in regard to them that i did in . i feel distressed in mind that the resolutions then made have not been more effectual in keeping me from this _overengagedness_ in business. i now find myself so engrossed with its cares, as to occupy my thoughts, waking or sleeping, to a degree entirely disproportioned to its importance. the quiet and comfort of home are broken in upon by the anxiety arising from the losses and mischances of a business so extensive as ours; and, above all, that communion which ought ever to be kept free between man and his maker is interrupted by the incessant calls of the multifarious pursuits of our establishment." after noting down several rules for curtailing his affairs, he continues: "property acquired at such sacrifices as i have been obliged to make the past year costs more than it's worth; and the anxiety in protecting it is the extreme of folly." * * * * * _ st of january, ._--"the principles of business laid down a year ago have been very nearly practised upon. our responsibilities and anxieties have greatly diminished, as also have the accustomed profits of business; but there is sufficient remaining for the reward of our labor to impose on us increased responsibilities and duties, as agents who must at last render an account. god grant that mine be found correct!" chapter xi. reflections.--bunker hill monument.--letters. _ st of january, ._--after an account of his affairs, he remarks: "the amount of property is great for a young man under forty-two years of age, who came to this town when he was twenty-one years old with no other possessions than a common country education, a sincere love for his own family, and habits of industry, economy, and sobriety. under god, it is these same self-denying habits, and a desire i always had to please, so far as i could without sinful compliance, that i can now look back upon and see as the true ground of my success. i have many things to reproach myself with; but among them is not idling away my time, or spending money for such things as are improper. my property imposes upon me many duties, which can only be known to my maker. may a sense of these duties be constantly impressed upon my mind; and, by a constant discharge of them, god grant me the happiness at last of hearing the joyful sound, 'well done, good and faithful servant, enter thou into the joy of thy lord!' amen. amen." previous to this date, but few private letters written by mr. lawrence were preserved. from that time, however, many volumes have been collected, a greater part of them addressed to his children. out of a very large correspondence with them and with friends, such selections will be made as are thought most interesting, and most worthy to be preserved by his family and their descendants. the nature of this correspondence is such, involving many personal matters of transient interest that often scraps of letters only can be given; and, although it will be the aim of the editor to give an outline of the life of the author of these letters, it will be his object to allow him to speak for himself, and to reveal his own sentiments and character, rather than to follow out, from year to year, the details of his personal history. this correspondence commences with a series of letters extending through several years, and addressed to his eldest son, who was, during that time, at school in france and spain. "boston, november , . "i trust that you will have had favoring gales and a pleasant passage, and will be safely landed at havre within twenty days after sailing. you will see things so different from what you have been accustomed to, that you may think the french are far before or behind us in the arts of life, and formation of society. but you must remember that what is best for one people may be the worst for another; and that it is true wisdom to study the character of the people among whom you are, before adopting their manners, habits, or feelings, and carrying them to another people. i wish to see you, as long as you live, a well-bred, upright _yankee_. brother jonathan should never forget his self-respect, nor should he be impertinent in claiming more for his country or himself than is due; but on no account should he speak ungraciously of his country or its friends abroad, whatever may be said by others. lafayette in france is not what he is here; and, whatever may be said of him there, he is an ardent friend of the united states; and i will venture to say, if you introduce yourself to him as a grandson of one of his old yankee officers, he will treat you with the kindness of a father. you must visit la grange, and g. will go with you. he will not recollect your grandfather, or any of us. but tell him that your father and three uncles were introduced to him here in the state house; that they are much engaged in forwarding the bunker hill monument; and, if ever he return to this country, it will be the pride of your father to lead him to the top of it." among mr. lawrence's papers, this is the first allusion to the bunker hill monument, in the erection of which he afterwards took so prominent a part, and to which he most liberally contributed both time and money. from early associations, perhaps from the accounts received from his father, who was present during the battle, his mind became strongly interested in the project of erecting a monument, and particularly in that of reserving the whole battle-ground for the use of the public forever. he had been chosen one of the building committee of the board of directors in october, , in company with dr. john c. warren, general h. a. s. dearborn, george blake, and william sullivan. from this time until the completion of the monument, the object occupied a prominent place in his thoughts; and allusion to his efforts in its behalf during the succeeding years will, from time to time, be introduced. on december , , he thus alludes to the death of an invalid daughter six years of age: "she was taken with lung fever on the th, and died, after much suffering and distress, on the th. nothing seemed to relieve her at all; and i was thankful when the dear child ceased to suffer, and was taken to the bosom of her saviour, where sickness and suffering will no more reach her, and the imperfections of her earthly tenement will be corrected, and her mind and spirit will be allowed to expand and grow to their full stature in christ. in his hands i most joyfully leave her, hoping that i may rejoin her with the other children whom it has pleased god to give me." (to his son.) "december . "my thoughts are often led to contemplate the condition of my children in every variety of situation, more especially in sickness, since the death of dear m. although i do not allow myself to indulge in melancholy or fearful forebodings, i cannot but feel the deepest solicitude that their minds and principles should be so strengthened and stayed upon their god and saviour as to give them all needed support in a time of such trial and suffering. you are so situated as perhaps not to recall so frequently to your mind as may be necessary the principles in which you have been educated. but let me, in the absence of these objects, remind you that god is ever present, and sees the inmost thoughts; and, while he allows every one to act freely, he gives to such as earnestly and honestly desire to do right all needed strength and encouragement to do it. therefore, my dear son, do not cheat yourself by doing what you suspect _may_ be wrong. you are as much accountable to your maker for an enlightened exercise of your conscience, as you would be to me to use due diligence in taking care of a bag of money which i might send by you to mr. w. if you were to throw it upon deck, or into the bottom of the coach, you would certainly be culpable; but, if you packed it carefully in your trunk, and placed the trunk in the usual situation, it would be using common care. so in the exercise of your conscience: if you refuse to examine whether an action is right or wrong, you voluntarily defraud yourself of the guide provided by the almighty. if you do wrong, you have no better excuse than he who had done so willingly and wilfully. it is the sincere desire that will be accepted." to his second son, then at school in andover, he writes: "i received your note yesterday, and was prepared to hear your cash fell short, as a dollar-bill was found in your chamber on the morning you left home. you now see the benefit of keeping accounts, as you would not have been sure about this loss without having added up your account. get the habit firmly fixed of putting down every cent you receive and every cent you expend. in this way you will acquire some knowledge of the relative value of things, and a habit of judging and of care which will be of use to you during all your life. among the numerous people who have failed in business within my knowledge, a prominent cause has been a want of system in their affairs, by which to know when their expenses and losses exceeded their profits. this habit is as necessary for professional men as for a merchant; because, in their business, there are numerous ways to make little savings, if they find their income too small, which they would not adopt without looking at the detail of all their expenses. it is the habit of consideration i wish you to acquire; and the habit of being accurate will have an influence upon your whole character in life." (to his son in france.) "april , . "i beseech you to consider well the advantages you enjoy, and to avail yourself of your opportunities to give your manners a little more ease and polish; for, you may depend upon it, manners are highly important in your intercourse with the world. good principles, good temper, and good manners, will carry a man through the world much better than he can get along with the absence of either. the most important is good principles. without these, the best manners, although, for a time, very acceptable, cannot sustain a person in trying situations. "if you live to attain the age of thirty, the interim will appear but a span; and yet at that time you will be in the full force of manhood. to look forward to that period, it seems very long; and it is long enough to make great improvement. do not omit the opportunity to acquire a character and habits that will continue to improve during the remainder of life. at its close, the reflection that you have thus done will be a support and stay worth more than any sacrifice you may ever feel called on to make in acquiring these habits." (to the same.) "june , . "i was forcibly reminded, on entering our tomb last evening, of the inroads which death has made in our family since , at the period when i purchased it. how soon any of us who survive may mingle our dust with theirs, is only known to omniscience; but, at longest, it can be in his view but a moment, a mere point of time. how important, then, to us who can use this mere point for our everlasting good, that we should do it, and not squander it as a thing without value! think upon this, my son; and do not merely admit the thought into your mind and drive it out by vain imaginations, but give it an abiding and practical use. to set a just value upon time, and to make a just use of it, deprives no one of any rational pleasure: on the contrary, it encourages temperance in the enjoyment of all the good things which a good providence has placed within our reach, and thankfulness for all opportunities of bestowing happiness on our fellow-beings. thus you have an opportunity of making me and your other friends happy, by diligence in your studies, temperance, truth, integrity, and purity of life and conversation. i may not write to you again for a number of weeks, as i shall commence a journey to canada in a few days. you will get an account of the journey from some of the party." chapter xii. journey to canada.--letters.--diary.--charities. mr. lawrence, with a large party, left boston on the th of june, and passed through vermont, across the green mountains, to montreal and quebec. compared with these days of railroad facilities, the journey was slow. it was performed very leisurely in hired private vehicles, and seems to have been much enjoyed. he gives a glowing account of the beauty of the country through which he passed, as well as his impressions of the condition of the population. from quebec the party proceeded to niagara falls, and returned through the state of new york to boston, "greatly improved in health and spirits." this, with one other visit to canada several years before, was the only occasion on which mr. lawrence ever left the territory of the united states; for, though sometimes tempted, in after years, to visit the old world, his occupations and long-continued feeble health prevented his doing so. (to his son.) "july . "if, in an endeavor to do right, we fall short, we shall still be in the way of duty; and that is first to be looked at. we must keep in mind that we are to render an account of the use of those talents which are committed to us; and we are to be judged by unerring wisdom, which can distinguish all the motives of action, as well as weigh the actions. as our stewardship has been faithful or otherwise, will be the sentence pronounced upon us. give this your best thoughts, for it is a consideration of vast importance." "august . "bring home no foreign fancies which are inapplicable to our state of society. it is very common for our young men to come home and appear quite ridiculous in attempting to introduce their foreign fashions. it should be always kept in mind that the state of society is widely different here from that in europe; and our comfort and character require it should long remain so. those who strive to introduce many of the european habits and fashions, by displacing our own, do a serious injury to the republic, and deserve censure. an idle person, with good powers of mind, becomes torpid and inactive after a few years of indulgence, and is incapable of making any high effort; highly important it is, then, to avoid this enemy of mental and moral improvement. i have no wish that you pursue trade. i would rather see you on a farm, or studying any profession." "october . "it should always be your aim so to conduct yourself that those whom you value most in the world would approve your conduct, if all your actions were laid bare to their inspection; and thus you will be pretty sure that he who sees the motive of all our actions will accept the good designed, though it fall short in its accomplishment. you are young, and are placed in a situation of great peril, and are perhaps sometimes tempted to do things which you would not do if you knew yourself under the eye of your guardian. the blandishments of a beautiful city may lead you to forget that you are always surrounded, supported, and seen, by that best guardian." "december . "i suppose christmas is observed with great pomp in france. it is a day which our puritan forefathers, in their separation from the church of england, endeavored to blot out from the days of religious festivals; and this because it was observed with so much pomp by the romish church. in this, as well as in many other things, they were as unreasonable as though they had said they would not eat bread because the roman catholics do. i hope and trust the time is not far distant when christmas will be observed by the descendants of the puritans with all suitable respect, as the first and highest holiday of christians; combining all the feelings and views of new england thanksgiving with all the other feelings appropriate to it." "january , . "you have seen, perhaps, that the directors of the bunker hill monument association have applied to the legislature for a lottery. i am extremely sorry for it. i opposed the measure in all its stages, and feel mortified that they have done so. they cannot get it, and i desire that general lafayette may understand this; and, if he will write us a few lines during the coming year, it will help us in getting forward a subscription. when our citizens shall have had one year of successful business, they will be ready to give the means to finish the monument. my feelings are deeply interested in it, believing it highly valuable as a nucleus for the affections of the people in after time; and, if my life be spared and my success continue, i will never cease my efforts until it be completed." further details will be given in this volume to show now nobly mr. lawrence persevered in the resolution thus deliberately formed; and, though he was destined to witness many fruitless efforts, he had the satisfaction at last of seeing the completion of the monument, and from its summit of pointing out the details of the battle to the son of one of the british generals in command[ ] on that eventful day. [ ] lord prudhoe, now duke of northumberland. on the same page with the estimate of his property for the year , he writes: "with a view to know the amount of my expenditures for objects other than the support of my family, i have, for the year , kept a particular account of such other expenses as come under the denomination of charities, and appropriations for the benefit of others not of my own household, for many of whom i feel under the same obligation as for my own family." this memorandum was commenced on the st of january, , and is continued until december , , the last day of his life. it contains a complete statement of his charities during that whole period, including not only what he contributed in money, but also all other donations, in the shape of clothing materials, books, provisions, &c. his custom was to note down at cost the value of the donation, after it had been despatched; whether in the shape of a book, a turkey, or one of his immense bundles of varieties to some poor country minister's family, as large, as he says in addressing one, "as a small haycock." two rooms in his house, and sometimes three, were used principally for the reception of useful articles for distribution. there, when stormy weather or ill health prevented him from taking his usual drive, he was in the habit of passing hours in selecting and packing up articles which he considered suitable to the wants of those whom he wished to aid. on such days, his coachman's services were put in requisition to pack and tie up "the small haycocks;" and many an illness was the result of over-exertion and fatigue in supplying the wants of his poorer brethren. these packages were selected according to the wants of the recipients, and a memorandum made of the contents. in one case, he notifies professor ----, of ---- college, that he has sent by railroad "a barrel and a bundle of books, with broadcloth and pantaloon stuffs, with odds and ends for poor students when they go out to keep school in the winter." another, for the president of a college at the west, one piece of silk and worsted, for three dresses; one piece of plaid, for "m. and mamma;" a lot of pretty books; a piece of lignum-vitæ from the navy yard, as a text for the support of the navy; and various items for the children: value, twenty-five dollars. to a professor in a college in a remote region he sends a package containing "dressing-gown, vest, hat, slippers, jack-knife, scissors, pins, neck-handkerchiefs, pantaloons, cloth for coat, 'history of groton,' lot of pamphlets," &c. most of the packages forwarded contained substantial articles for domestic use, and were often accompanied by a note containing from five to fifty dollars in money. the distribution of books was another mode of usefulness to which mr. lawrence attached much importance. in his daily drives, his carriage was well stored with useful volumes, which he scattered among persons of all classes and ages as he had opportunity. these books were generally of a religious character, while others of a miscellaneous nature were purchased in large numbers, and sent to institutions, or individuals in remote parts of the country. he purchased largely the very useful as well as tasteful volumes of the american tract society and the sunday-school union. an agent of the latter society writes: "i had almost felt intimately acquainted with him, as nearly every pleasant day he visited the depository to fill the front seat of his coach with books for distribution." old and young, rich and poor, shared equally in these distributions; and he rarely allowed an occasion to pass unimproved when he thought an influence could be exerted by the gift of an appropriate volume. while waiting one day in his carriage with a friend, in one of the principal thoroughfares of the city, he beckoned to a genteelly-dressed young man who was passing, and handed him a book. upon being asked whether the young man was an acquaintance, he replied: "no, he is not; but you remember where it is written, 'cast thy bread upon the waters, for thou shalt find it after many days.'" "a barrel of books" is no uncommon item found in his record of articles almost daily forwarded to one and another of his distant beneficiaries. chapter xiii. correspondence with mr. webster.--letters. (to his son.) "february , . "be sure and visit la grange before you return; say to general lafayette that the bunker hill monument will _certainly be finished_, and that the foolish project of a lottery has been abandoned. if, in the course of providence, i should be taken away, i hope my children will feel it a duty to continue the efforts that are made in this work, which i have had so much at heart, and have labored so much for." to his son, then at school at versailles, he writes on feb. , : "after hearing from you again, i can judge better what to advise respecting your going into spain. at all events, let no hope of going, or seeing, or doing anything else, prevent your using the present time for improving yourself in whatever you find to do. my greatest fear is, that you may form a wrong judgment of what constitutes your true respectability, happiness, and usefulness. to a youth just entering on the scenes of life, the roses on the wayside appear without thorns; but, in the eagerness to snatch them, many find, to their sorrow, that all which appears so fair is not in possession what it was in prospect, and that beneath the rose there is a thorn that sometimes wounds like a serpent's bite. let not appearances deceive you; for, when once you have strayed, the second temptation is more likely to be fallen into than the first." "march , . "we are all in new england deeply interested by mr. webster's late grand speech in the senate, vindicating new england men and new england measures from reproach heaped upon them by the south; it was his most powerful effort, and you will see the american papers are full of it. you should read the whole debate between him and mr. hayne of south carolina; you will find much to instruct and interest you, and much of what you ought to know. mr. webster never stood so high in this country as, at this moment; and i doubt if there be any man, either in europe or america, his superior. the doctrines upon the constitution in this speech should be read as a text-book by all our youth." after reading the great speech of mr. webster, mr. lawrence addressed to that gentleman a letter, expressing his admiration of the manner in which new england had been vindicated, and also his own personal feelings of gratitude for the proud stand thus taken. mr. webster replied as follows: "washington, march , . "dear sir: i thank you very sincerely for your very kind and friendly letter. the sacrifices made in being here, and the mortifications sometimes experienced, are amply compensated by the consciousness that my friends at home feel that i have done some little service to our new england. i pray you to remember me with very true regard to mrs. lawrence, and believe me "very faithfully and gratefully yours, "daniel webster. "to amos lawrence, esq." extracts of letters to his son. "april , . "you may feel very sure that any study which keeps your mind engaged will be likely to strengthen it; and that, if you leave your mind inactive, it will run to waste. your arm is strengthened by wielding a broadsword, or even a foil. your legs by various gymnastic exercises, and the organs of sight and hearing by careful and systematic use, are greatly improved; even the finger is trained, by the absence of sight, to perform almost the service of the eye. all this shows how natural it is for all the powers to grow stronger by use. you needed not these examples to convince you; but my desire to have you estimate your advantages properly induces me to write upon them very often. every american youth owes his country his best talents and services, and should devote them to the country's welfare. in doing that, you will promote not only your own welfare, but your highest enjoyment. "the duty of an american citizen, at this period of the world, is that of a responsible agent; and he should endeavor to transmit to the next age the institutions of our country uninjured and improved. we hope, in your next letter, to hear something more of general lafayette. the old gentleman is most warm in his affection for americans. may he live long to encourage and bless by his example the good of all countries! in contemplating a life like his, who can say that compensation even here is not fully made for all the anguish and suffering he has formerly endured? long life does not consist in many years; but in the period being filled with good services to our fellow-beings. he whose life ends at thirty may have done much, while he who has reached the age of one hundred may have done little. with the almighty, a thousand years are a moment; and he will therefore give no credit to any talents not used to his glory; which use is the same thing as promoting, by all means in our power, the welfare and happiness of the beings among whom we are placed." "may , . "i have been pretty steady at my business, without working hard, or having anxious feelings about it. it is well to have an agreeable pursuit to employ the mind and body. i think that i can work for the next six years with as good a relish as ever i did; but i make labor a pleasure. i have just passed into my forty-fifth year, you know. at my age, i hope you will feel as vigorous and youthful as i now do. a temperate use of the good things of life, and a freedom from anxious cares, tend, as much as anything, to keep off old age." "june , . "to-day completes fifty-five years since the glorious battle of bunker hill, and five years since the nation's guest assisted at the laying of the corner-stone of the monument which is to commemorate to all future times the events which followed that battle. if it should please god to remove me before this structure is completed, i hope to remember it in my will, and that my sons will live to see it finished. but what i deem of more consequence is to retain for posterity the battle-field, now in the possession of the bunker hill monument association. the association is in debt, and a part of the land may pass out of its possession; but i hope, if it do, there will be spirit enough among individuals to purchase it and restore it again; for i would rather the whole work should not be resumed for twenty years, than resume it by parting with the land. i name this to you now, that you may have a distinct intimation of my wishes to keep the land open for our children's children to the end of time." "july , . "temptation, if successfully resisted, strengthens the character; but it should always be avoided. 'lead us not into temptation' are words of deep meaning, and should always carry with them corresponding desires of obedience. at a large meeting of merchants and others held ten days ago, it was resolved to make an effort to prevent the licensing of such numbers of soda-shops, retailers of spirits and the like, which have, in my opinion, done more than anything else to debase and ruin the youth of our city. it is a gross perversion of our privileges to waste and destroy ourselves in this way. god has given us a good land and many blessings. we misuse them, and make them minister to our vices. we shall be called to a strict account. every good citizen owes it to his god and his country to stop, as far as he can, this moral desolation. let me see you, on your return, an advocate of good order and good morals. * * * "our old neighbor the sea-serpent was more than usually accommodating the day after we left portsmouth. he exhibited himself to a great number of people who were at hampton beach last saturday. they had a full view of his snakeship from the shore. he was so civil as to raise his head about four feet, and look into a boat, where were three men, who thought it the wisest way to retreat to their cabin. his length is supposed to be about one hundred feet, his head the size of a ten-gallon cask, and his body, in the largest part, about the size of a barrel. i have never had any more doubt respecting the existence of this animal, since he was seen here eleven years ago, than i have had of the existence of bonaparte. the evidence was as strong to my mind of the one as of the other. i had never seen either; but i was as well satisfied of the existence of both, as i should have been had i seen both. and yet the idea of the sea-serpent's existence has been scouted and ridiculed." "september . "the events of the late french revolution have reached us up to the th august. the consideration of them is animating, and speaks in almost more than human language. we are poor, frail, and mortal beings; but there is something elevating in the thought of a whole people acting as with the mind and the aim of one man, a part which allies man to a higher order of beings. i confess it makes me feel a sort of veneration for them; and trust that no extravagance will occur to mar the glory and the dignity of this enterprise. our beloved old hero, too, acting as the guiding and presiding genius of this wonderful event! may god prosper them, and make it to the french people what it is capable of being, if they make a right use of it! i hope that you have been careful to see and learn everything, and that you will preserve the information you obtain in such a form as to recall the events to your mind a long time hence. we are all very well and very busy, and in fine spirits, here in the old town of boston. those who fell behind last year have some of them placed themselves in the rear rank, and are again on duty. others are laid up, unfit for duty; and the places of all are supplied with fresh troops. we now present as happy and as busy a community as you would desire to see." chapter xiv. testimonial to mr. webster.--dangerous illness.--letters. during the autumn of , in order to testify in a more marked manner his appreciation of mr. webster's distinguished services in the senate of the united states, mr. lawrence presented to that gentleman a service of silver plate, accompanied by the following note: "boston, october , . "hon. daniel webster. "dear sir: permit me to request your acceptance of the accompanying small service of plate, as a testimony of my gratitude for your services to the country in your late efforts in the senate; especially for your vindication of the character of massachusetts and of new england. "from your friend and fellow-citizen, "amos lawrence. "p. s.--if by any emblem or inscription on any piece of this service, referring to the circumstances of which this is a memorial, the whole will be made more acceptable, i shall be glad to have you designate what it shall be, and permit me the opportunity of adding it." to which mr. webster replied, on the same evening, as follows: "summer-street, october , . "my dear sir: i cannot well express my sense of your kindness, manifested in the present of plate, which i have received this evening. i know that, from you, this token of respect is sincere; and i shall ever value it, and be happy in leaving it to my children, as a most gratifying evidence of your friendship. the only thing that can add to its value is your permission that it may be made to bear an inscription expressive of the donation. "i am, dear sir, with unfeigned esteem, "your friend and obedient servant, "daniel webster. "amos lawrence, esq." (to his son.) "boston, january , . "our local affairs are very delightful in this state and city. we have no violent political animosities; and the prosperity of the people is very great. in our city, in particular, the people have not had greater prosperity for twenty years. there is a general industry and talent in our population, that is calculated to produce striking results upon their character. in your reflections upon your course, you may settle it as a principle, that no man can attain any valuable influence or character among us, who does not labor with whatever talents he has to increase the sum of human improvement and happiness. an idler, who feels that he has no responsibilities, but is contriving to get rid of time without being useful to any one, whatever be his fortune, can find no comfort in staying here. we have not enough such to make up a society. we are literally all working-men; and the attempt to get up a 'working-men's party' is a libel upon the whole population, as it implies that there are among us large numbers who are not working-men. he is a working-man whose mind is employed, whether in making researches into the meaning of hieroglyphics or in demonstrating any invention in the arts, just as much as he who cuts down the forests, or holds the plough, or swings the sledge-hammer. therefore let it be the sentiment of your heart to use all the talents and powers you may possess in the advancement of the moral and political influence of new england. new england, i say; for here is to be the stronghold of liberty, and the seat of influence to the vast multitude of millions who are to people this republic." at the period when the preceding letter was written, the manufacturing interests had become of vast importance in this community; and the house of which mr. lawrence was the senior partner had identified itself with many of the great manufacturing corporations already created, or then in progress. with such pecuniary interests at stake, and with a sense of responsibility for the success of these enterprises, which had been projected on a scale and plan hitherto unknown, it may be supposed that his mind and energies were fully taxed, and that he could be fairly ranked among the working-men alluded to. while in the full tide of active life, and, as it were, at the crowning point of a successful career, the hand of providence was laid upon him to remove him, for the rest of his days, from this sphere of honor and activity to the chamber of the invalid, and the comparatively tame and obscure walks of domestic life. ever after this, his life hung upon a thread; and its very uncertainty, far from causing him to despond and rest from future effort, seemed only to excite the desire to work while the day lasted. the discipline thus acquired, instead of consigning him to the inglorious obscurity of a sick chamber, was the means of his entering upon that career of active philanthropy which is now the great source of whatever distinction there may be attached to his memory. his business life was ended; and, though he was enabled to advise with others, and give sometimes a direction to the course of affairs, he assumed no responsibility, and had virtually retired from the field. on the st of june, , the weather being very warm, mr. lawrence, while engaged in the business of his counting-room, drank moderately of cold water, and, soon after, was seized with a violent and alarming illness. the functions of the stomach seemed to have been destroyed; and, for many days, there remained but small hope of his recovery. much sympathy was expressed by his friends and the public, and in such a manner as to afford gratification to his family, as well as surprise to himself when sufficiently recovered to be informed of it. he had not yet learned the place which he had earned, in the estimation of those around him, as a merchant and a citizen; and it was, not improbably, a stimulus to merit, by his future course, the high encomiums which were then lavished upon him. mr. lawrence announced his sickness to his son, then in spain, in the following letter, dated "boston, june , . "i desire to bless god for being again permitted to address you in this way. on the st day of this month, i was seized with a violent illness, which caused both myself and my friends almost to despair of my life. but, by the blessing of god, the remedies proved efficacious; and i am still in the land of the living, with a comfortable prospect of acquiring my usual health, although, thus far, not allowed to leave my chamber. in that dread hour when i thought that the next perhaps would be my last on earth,--my thoughts resting upon my god and saviour, then upon the past scenes of my life, then upon my dear children,--the belief that their minds are well directed, and that they will prove blessings to society, and fulfil, in some good degree, the design of providence in placing them here, was a balm to my spirits that proved more favorable to my recovery than any of the other remedies. may you never forget that every man is individually responsible for his actions, and must be held accountable for his opportunities! thus he who has ten talents will receive a proportionate reward, if he makes a right use of them; and he who receives one will be punished, if he hides it in a napkin." "june , . "my dear and ever-honored mother: through the divine goodness, i am once more enabled to address you by letter, after having passed through a sickness alarming to my friends, although to myself a comparatively quiet one. i cannot in words express my grateful sense of god's goodness in thus carrying me, as it were, in his hand, and lighting the way by the brightness of his countenance. during that period in which i considered my recovery as hardly probable, my mind was calm; and, while in review of the past i found many things to lament, and in contemplation of the future much to fear, but more to hope, i could find no other words in which to express my thoughts than the words of the publican, 'god be merciful to me a sinner!' all the small distinctions of sects and forms dwindled into air, thin air, and seemed to me even more worthless than ever. the cares and anxieties of the world did not disturb me, believing it to be of small moment whether i should be taken now or spared a few years longer. with returning health and strength, different prospects open, and different feelings take the place of those which were then so appropriate; and the social feelings and sympathies have their full share in their hold upon me. * * * * "from your ever-loving and dutiful son, a. l." (to his son.) "july . "i have been constantly gaining since my last to you, and with constant care, hope to acquire my usual health. i am, however, admonished, by the two attacks i have experienced within a month, that the continuance of my life for any considerable period will be very likely to depend upon a rigid prudence in my labor and living. the recovery from this last sickness is almost like being restored to life; and i hope the span that may be allowed me may be employed in better service than any period of my past life. we are placed here to be disciplined for another and higher state; and whatever happens to us makes a part of this discipline. in this view, we ought never to murmur, but to consider, when ills befall us, how we can make them subserve our highest good. what i am more desirous than anything else for you is, that you may feel that you are accountable for all your talents, and that you may so use them as to have an approving conscience, and the final recompense of a faithful servant at last. the period of trial is short; but the consequences are never-ending. how important to each individual, then,--to you and to me,--that we use aright the period assigned us!" chapter xv. journey to new hampshire.--letters.--resigns office of trustee at hospital.--letters. a few days after the date of the preceding letter, a change was thought desirable for the improvement of mr. lawrence's health; and he accordingly, with mrs. l., went to portsmouth, new hampshire, and remained a week with his friend and brother-in-law, the late hon. jeremiah mason. from thence he proceeded to visit friends in amherst, new hampshire, where he was attacked by a severe rheumatic fever, which confined him for several weeks; and it was with great difficulty that he succeeded in reaching home about the th of september, after an absence of nearly two months. on the th of september, he writes to his son: "it is only within a few days that i have been able to be removed to my own house. i am now able to walk my chamber, and sit up half the day; and, by the best care in the world, i have a fair hope of again enjoying so much health as to feel that i may yet be of some use in the world. my bodily sufferings have been great during this last sickness; but my mind in general has been quiet. i seem to want nothing which this world can give to make me an enviably happy man, but your presence and a return of my health; but these last are wisely withheld. we are apt, in the abundance of the gift, to lose the recollection whence it came, and feel that by our own power we can go forward. happy for us that we are thus made to feel that all we have is from god; this recurrence to the source of all our blessings makes us better men. i do not expect to be able to leave the house before the next spring; and, in the mean time, must be subject to the casualties incident to a person in my situation." on october , mr. lawrence, in a letter to the same son, expresses his gratitude for the enjoyment of life, "even in a sick chamber, as mine must be termed." "i receive my friends here, and once only have walked abroad for a few minutes. i drive in a carriage every pleasant day, and i can truly say that my days pass in the full enjoyment of more than the average of comfort. 'my mind is as easy as it ever is, and as active as is safe for the body. i employed myself yesterday in looking over your letters since you left home three years ago, and was reminded by them that the fourth year of your absence has just commenced. although a brief space since it is passed, an equal time, if we look forward, appears to be far distant. the question you will naturally ask yourself is, how has the time been spent? and from the answer you may gather much instruction for the future. if you have made the best use of this period, happy is it for you, as the habit of the useful application of your time will make its continuance more natural and easy. if you have misused and abused your opportunities, there is not a moment to be lost in retracing your steps, and making good, by future effort, what has been lost by want of it. in short, we can none of us know that a future will be allowed us to amend and to correct our previous misdoings and omissions; and it is not less the part of wisdom than of duty to be always up and doing, that whenever our master comes we may be ready. i never was made so sensible before of the power of the mind over the body. it is a matter of surprise to some of my friends, who have known my constant habits of business for a quarter of a century, that i can find so much comfort and quiet in the confinement of my house, when i feel so well, and there are so many calls for my labors abroad. i hope to pursue such a discreet course as shall allow me to come forth in the spring with my poor frame so far renovated and restored as to enable me to take my place among the active laborers of the day, and do what little i may for the advancement and well-being of my generation. if, however, i should, by any accident or exposure, be again brought to a bed of pain and suffering, may god grant me a patient and submissive temper to bear whatever may be put upon me, with a full conviction that such chastisements will tend to my good, if i make a right use of them!" the first of january, , found mr. lawrence confined to his sick room, and unable, from bodily weakness, to drive out in the open air, as he had hitherto done. he writes to his son: "i am reminded, by the new year, that another portion of time has passed, by which we are accustomed to measure in prospect the space that is allotted us here; and the reflections at the close of the old and the commencement of the new year are calculated, if we do not cheat ourselves, to make us better than we otherwise should be. i am enjoying myself highly under the close confinement of two parlor chambers, from which i have only travelled into the entry since november. i have lived pretty much as other prisoners of a different character live, as regards food; namely, on bread and water, or bread and coffee or cocoa. i have come to the conclusion that the man who lives on bread and water, if he have enough, is the genuine epicure, according to the original and true meaning. i am favored with the visits of more pretty and interesting ladies than any _layman_ in the city, i believe. my rooms are quite a resort; and, old fellow as i am, i have the vanity to suppose i render myself quite agreeable to them." on the same day, in a letter of sympathy to his sister-in-law, whose invalid son was about to leave for a long voyage, he writes: "while my family are all absent at church, i am sitting alone, my mind going back to the beginning of the year just ended and forward through that just commenced; and, in view of both periods, i can see nothing but the unbounded goodness of our heavenly father and best friend, in all that has been taken from me, as well as in all that is left to me. i can say, with sincerity, that i never have had so much to call forth my warmest and deepest gratitude for favors bestowed as at the present time. among my sources of happiness is a settled conviction that, in chastening his children, god desires their good; and if his chastisements are thus viewed, we cannot receive them in any other light than as manifestations of his fatherly care and kindness. although, at times, 'clouds and darkness are round about him,' we do certainly know, by the words of inspiration, 'that justice and judgment are the habitation of his throne,' and goodness and mercy the attributes of his character; and if it should please him further to try me with disease during the period of my probation, my prayer to him is that my mind and heart may remain stayed on him, and that i may practically illustrate those words of our blessed saviour, 'not my will, but thine be done.' it is quite possible that there may still be a few years of probation for me; but it is more probable that i may not remain here to the close of the present; but whether i remain longer or shorter is of little consequence, compared with the preparation or the dress in which i may be found when called away. it has seemed to me that the habit of mind we cultivate here will be that which will abide with us hereafter; and that heaven is as truly begun here as that the affections which make us love our friends grow stronger by use, and improve by cultivation. we are here in our infancy; the feelings cherished at this period grow with our growth, and, in the progress of time, will fit us for the highest enjoyments of the most distant future. i say, then, what sources of happiness are open to us, not only for the present, but for all future time! these hasty remarks are elicited on occasion of the separation so soon to take place from your son. i know full well the anxieties of a parent on such an occasion. "his health cannot, of course, be certainly predicted; but you will have the comfort of knowing that you have done everything that the fondest parents could do in this particular, whatever effect the absence may have upon him. "---- should feel that his obligations are increased, with his means and opportunities for improvement. if by travel he acquire a better education, and can make himself more useful on his return, he can no more divest himself of his increased duties, than he can divest himself of his duty to be honest. the account is to be rendered for the use of the talents, whether they be ten, or five, or one. if i have opportunity, i shall write a few lines to ---- before he leaves. if i should not, i desire him to feel that i have great affection for him, and deep interest in his progress, and an ardent hope that his health, improvement, and knowledge, may be commensurate with the rare advantages he will enjoy for the acquisition of all. "i know the tender feelings of your husband on all things touching his family or friends; and perhaps i may find opportunity to speak a word of comfort to him. but i know not what more to say than to reiterate the sentiment here expressed. nature will have its way for a time, but i hope reason will be sufficient to make that time very short. whatever time it may be, of this i feel confident, that, after the feelings have once subsided, ---- will have all the sunshine and joy which the event is calculated to produce. he cannot know until he has realized the pleasure of hearing the absent ones speak, as it were, in his ear, from a distance of three thousand miles. "may the best blessings of the almighty rest on you and yours! from your ever affectionate a. l." (to his son.) "sunday morning, feb. , . "i have seated myself at my writing-desk, notwithstanding it is holy time, in the hope and belief that i am in the way of duty. this consecration of one day in seven to the duties of religion,--comprising, as these do, every duty,--and if they be well performed, to self-examination, is a glorious renovation of the world. who that has witnessed the effects of this rest upon the moral and physical condition of a people, can doubt the wisdom of the appointment? wherever we turn our eyes or our thoughts, if we only will be as honest and candid, in our estimate of the value of the provision made for us, as we ordinarily are in our estimate of the character and conduct of our fellow-men, we must be struck with admiration and gratitude to that merciful father who has seen our wants, and provided for our comfort to an extent to which the care and provision of the best earthly parents for their children hardly gives the name of resemblance." in speaking of some application for aid which he had received from a charitable institution, he writes to his son: "our people are liberally disposed, and contribute to most objects which present a fair claim to their aid. i think you will find great advantage in doing this part of your duty upon a system which you can adopt; thus, for instance, divide your expenses into ten parts, nine of which may be termed for what is considered necessary, making a liberal calculation for such as your situation would render proper, and one part applied for the promotion of objects not directly or legally claiming your support, but such as every good citizen would desire to have succeed. this, i think, you will find the most agreeable part of your expense; and, if you should be favored with an abundance of means later in life, you may enlarge your appropriations of this sort, so as to be equal to one tenth of your income. neither yourself nor those who depend upon you will ever feel the poorer. i assume that you have plenty, in thus fixing the proportion. i believe the rule might be profitably adopted by many who have small means; for they would save more by method than they would be required to pay. "to-morrow completes a hundred years since the birth of washington. the day will be celebrated, from one end of the country to the other, with suitable demonstrations of respect, by processions, orations, and religious ceremonies, according to the feelings of the people who join in it. i think the spectacle will be a grand one, of a whole people brought together to commemorate the birth of one of their fellow-mortals, who by his virtues and his talents has made his memory immortal, and whose precepts and example are calculated to secure happiness to the countless millions of his fellow-beings who are to people this vast empire through all future time. it is permitted to few to have open to them such a field as washington had; but no one since the christian era has filled his sphere so gloriously. we are jogging along, in political, theological and commercial affairs, very much as usual." during the month of january, mr. lawrence, on account of ill health, resigned his seat in the board of trustees of the massachusetts general hospital, in which he had served for several years. this duty had always been one of unmingled pleasure to him; and, by means of his visits there, and at the mclean asylum for the insane, under the management of the same board, he became conversant with a class of sufferers who had excited a great interest in his mind, and whom he often visited during the remainder of his life, to cheer them in their sadness, and to convey to them such little tokens of kindness as assured them of his interest and sympathy. in a letter to his second son, at andover, he writes, april : "you will be glad to hear i have got along very well through the wet, cold weather of the week, and am looking forward with cheerful hope to the sunny days to come. if it were not for my faculty of turning present disappointments to future pleasures in prospect, i should run down in spirits. i have always indulged myself in castle-building; but have generally taken care so to build as to be in no danger of their falling on my head, so that when i have gone as far with one as is safe, if it does not promise well, i transfer my labor to another, and thus am always supplied with objects. the last one finished was commenced last may, and it is one i delight to think of. it was then i determined to get your uncle mason[ ] here. n. thought it a castle without foundation, but the result shows otherwise. "i send some of w.'s late letters, by which you perceive he is not idle; the thought of the dear fellow makes the tears start. god in mercy grant him a safe return, fully impressed with his obligations as a man and a christian! that i am now living in the enjoyment of so much health, surrounded by so many blessings, is overpowering to my feelings. what shall i render unto god for all these benefits? i feel my unworthiness, and devoutly pray him that i may never lose sight of the great end of my being; and that, whenever it shall please him to call me hence, i may be found in the company of the redeemed through the merits and mediation of the son of his love. if there is any one thing i would impress on your mind more strongly than another, it is to give good heed to the religious impressions with which you may be imbued; and, at a future day, these may prove a foundation that will support you when all other supports would fail. the youthful imagination frequently magnifies objects at a distance; experience is an able teacher, and detects, too late, perhaps, the fraud upon youth. be wise in time, and avoid this fraud." [ ] hon. jeremiah mason, of portsmouth, new hampshire, who passed the rest of his life in boston. a few days later, he writes to the same son, on the subject of systematic charity: "it is one of my privileges, not less than one of my duties, to be able thus to administer to the comfort of a circle of very dear friends. i hope you will one day have the delightful consciousness of using a portion of your means in a way to give you as much pleasure as i now experience. your wants may be brought within a very moderate compass; and i hope you will never feel yourself at liberty to waste on yourself such means, as, by system and right principles, may be beneficially applied to the good of those around you. providence has given us unerring principles to guide us in our duties of this sort. our first duty is to those of our own household, then extending to kindred, friends, neighbors (and the term 'neighbor' may, in its broadest sense, take in the whole human family), citizens of our state, then of our country, then of the other countries of the world." in another letter, written soon after the preceding, he speaks of certain principles of business which governed him in early life, and adds: "the secret of the whole matter was, that we had formed the habit of promptly acting, thus taking the _top of the tide_; while the habit of some others was to delay until about _half-tide_, thus getting on the flats; while we were all the time prepared for action, and ready to put into any port that promised well. i wish, by all these remarks, to impress upon you the necessity of qualifying yourself to support yourself. the best education that i can secure shall be yours, and such facilities for usefulness as may be in my power shall be rendered; but no food to pamper idleness or wickedness will i ever supply willingly to any connection, however near. i trust i have none who will ever misuse so basely anything that may come to them as a blessing. this letter, you may think, has an undue proportion of advice. 'line upon line, precept upon precept,' is recommended by one wiser than i am." (to his daughter.) "sunday morn. "my dear daughter: in the quiet of this morning, my mind naturally rests on those objects nearest and dearest to me; and you, my child, are among the first. "the family are all at church, but the weather is not such as to permit my going; and the season by them employed in the service of the sanctuary will by me be employed in communicating with you. "you have now arrived at an age when the mind and heart are most susceptible of impressions for weal or woe; and the direction which may be given to them is what no parent can view with indifference, or pass over without incurring the guilt of being unfaithful in his duties. my earnest desire for you is, that you may fully appreciate your opportunities and responsibilities, and so use them that you may acquire a reasonable hope that you may secure the object for which we are placed here. the probation is short, but long enough to do all that is required of us, if faithfully used; the consequences are never-ending. "these simple views are such as any child of your age can comprehend, and should be made as familiar to your mind as the every-day duties of life. if the mind, from early days, be thus accustomed to look upon life as a school of preparation for higher services, then the changes and adversities to which we are all liable can only be viewed as necessary discipline to fit us for those higher services, and as such be considered as applied for our good, however painful they may seem at first. there is no truth better settled than this: that all the discipline of our heavenly parent, if rightly used, will eventuate in our good. how, then, can we murmur and repine at his dealings with us? this conduct only shows our weakness and folly, and illustrates the better care of us than we should take of ourselves. "we are in the condition of the sick man, who sometimes craves that which, if given him by his friend, would cause his certain death; but he is not aware at the time that it is withheld for his good. the importance, then, of cultivating a right understanding of the things of which our duties and our happiness are composed, is second to no object which can employ the mind; for, with this knowledge, we must suppose that no one can be so lost to his own interest as not to feel that in the performance of these duties is to result the possession of those riches which are promised to the faithful by our father in heaven, through the son of his love. in the preparation which awaits you, do not stop at the things which are seen, but look to those which are unseen. these views, perhaps, may be profitably pondered long after i have been gathered to my fathers. "the tenure of my life seems very frail; still it may continue longer than the lives of my children; but, whenever it shall please god to call me hence, i hope to feel resigned to his will, and to leave behind me such an influence as shall help forward the timid and faint-hearted in the path of duty; and particularly on you, my child, do i urge these views. they debar you from no real or reasonable pleasure; they speak to you, in strong language, to enjoy all those blessings which a bountiful parent has scattered in your path with unsparing plenty, and admonish you that to enjoy is not to abuse them; when abused, they cease to be enjoyed." chapter xvi. daily exercise.--regimen.--improving health.--letters. during the summer and autumn of , mr. lawrence's health and strength were so much improved, that he was enabled to take exercise on horseback; and almost daily he took long rides, sometimes alone, sometimes with a friend, about the environs of the city. this habit he was enabled to continue, with some intermissions, for two or three years, through summer and winter. the effect of the exercise amidst the beautiful scenery of the environs of boston, of which he was an enthusiastic admirer, was most beneficial to his health, and, it is believed, was a great means of prolonging his life. whenever he could do so, he secured the company of a friend, and kept a horse expressly for the purpose. as the ride was taken in the morning, when his business acquaintances were occupied, his most usual companion was some one of the city clergy, whom he secured for the occasion, or one of his sons. no denominational distinctions seemed to regulate his choice on these occasions. his own beloved pastor and friend, the rev. dr. lothrop, rev. drs. stone and greenwood, and father taylor, the seamen's chaplain, were often his companions. occasionally a stray merchant or lawyer was engaged; and, as was sometimes the case where they had not been much accustomed to the exercise, a long trot of many miles in the sun, or in the face of a keen winter north-wester, would severely tax their own strength, while they wondered how so frail a figure as that of mr. lawrence could possess so much endurance. with all this apparent energy and strength, he was extremely liable to illness, which would come when least expected, and confine him for days to his house. an item of bad news, some annoying incident, a little anxiety, or a slight cold, would, as it were, paralyze his digestive functions, and reduce his strength to the lowest point. it was this extreme sensitiveness which unfitted him to engage in the general current of business, and which compelled him to keep aloof from participation in commercial affairs, and to adopt that peculiar system in diet and living which he adhered to for the remainder of his life. this system limited him to the use of certain kinds of food, which, from time to time, was slightly modified, as was thought expedient. this food was of the most simple kind, and was taken in small quantities, after being weighed in a balance, which always stood before him upon his writing-table. to secure perfect quiet during his meals, and also that he might not be tempted to overstep the bounds of prudence, a certain amount was sent to him in his chamber, from which he took what was allowed. the amount of liquid was also weighed; and so rigid was he in this system of diet, that, for the last sixteen years of his life, he sat down at no meal with his family. the amount of food taken varied, of course, with his strength and condition. in a letter to his friend, president hopkins, of williams college, he says: "if your young folks want to know the meaning of epicureanism, tell them to take some, bits of coarse bread (one ounce and a little more), soak them in three gills of coarse-meal gruel, and make their dinner of them and nothing else; beginning very hungry, and leaving off more hungry. the food is delicious, and such as no modern epicureanism can equal." for a considerable period, he kept a regular diet-table, in which he noted down the quantity of solid and liquid food taken during the twenty-four hours. one of his memorandum-books, labelled "record of diet and discipline for and ," contains accurate records of this sort. in october, , in writing to his son in the country, he alludes to this improvement in his health and strength: "we are all doing as well as usual here, myself among them doing better than usual. my little 'doctor'[ ] does wonders for me. i ride so much, and so advantageously, that i do not know but i shall be bold enough, by and by, to ride to b---- and back in a day, but shall hardly dare do so until i have practised a little more in this neighborhood. "i want you to analyze more closely the tendency of principles, associations, and conduct, and strive to adopt such as will make it easier for you to go right than go wrong. the moral taste, like the natural, is vitiated by abuse. gluttony, tobacco, and intoxicating drink, are not less dangerous to the latter, than loose principles, bad associations, and profligate conduct, are to the former. look well to all these things." [ ] the name of his horse. the year opened with bright and cheering prospects; for, with mr. lawrence's increasing strength and improved health, there seemed a strong ground of hope that he might yet recover all his powers, and once more take his place among his former business associates. he writes at this time to his son at andover: "i am as light as a feather this morning, and feel as if i could mount upon a zephyr, and ride upon its back to a----; but i am admonished to be careful when my spirits are thus buoyant, lest i come down to the torpor of the insect, which is shut up by the frost. extremes are apt to follow, unless i take great care. last sabbath, i kept my bed, most of the day, with a poor turn. brother a. said, on saturday, he knew i was going to have one, for i talked _right on_." in march, he writes: "the season is coming forward now so as to allow me the use of the roads around roxbury and dorchester. my 'doctor' looks so altered by a two hours' canter, that his own mother would hardly know him at first sight. we continue excellent friends; and i think he has never used me better than during the last few days. we both 'feel our oats' and our youth. i feel like sweet twenty-five; and he, i judge, like vigorous seven." on april , he writes to a young friend: "when you get married, do not expect a higher degree of perfection than is consistent with mortality in your wife. if you do, you will be disappointed. be careful, and do not choose upon a theory either. i dislike much of the nonsense and quackery that is dignified with the name of intellectual among people. old-fashioned common sense is a deal better. * * * * "there was a part of boston which used to be visited by young men out of curiosity when i first came here, into which i never set foot for the whole time i remained a single man. i avoided it, because i not only wished to keep clear of the temptations common in that part, but to avoid the appearance of evil. i never regretted it; and i would advise all young men to strengthen their good resolutions by reflection, and to plant deep and strong the principles of right, and to avoid temptation, as time gives them strength to stand against it." on december , he writes to his wife, who had been summoned to the bedside of a dying relative: "your absence makes a great blank in the family; and i feel that i must be very careful lest any little accident should make me feel of a _deep blue_ while you are away. confidence is a great matter, not only in curing, but in preventing disease, whether of the body or the mind; and i have somehow got the notion that i am more safe when you[ ] are looking after me than when you are not, and that any trouble is sooner cured when you are present than when you are not. this is, i suppose, the true charm which some people have faith in to keep off their ills. i have been forcibly reminded of the passage of time, by reviewing the scenes of the last three years, and am deeply sensible of the mercies that have been extended to me. what little i do is a poor return: may a better spirit prompt and guide my future services! what few i have rendered are estimated by my brethren beyond their value, and of course tend to flatter my self-love. this should not be; and i ought to see myself as i am seen by that eye that never sleeps. the situation i occupy is one that i would not exchange, if i had the power, with any man living: it is full of agreeable incidents, and free from the toils and anxieties frequently attendant on a high state of prosperity; and is, beside, free from that jealousy, or from any other cause of uneasiness, so common among the ardent and successful in this world's race." [ ] the editor, in justice to his own feelings, will here remark, that he believes the continuation of mr. lawrence's life, after he became a confirmed invalid, was, under providence, in a great measure due to the care and faithful attentions of his wife. for more than twenty years, and during his frequent seasons of languor and sickness, she submitted to many sacrifices, and bestowed a degree of care and watchfulness such as affection alone could have enabled her to render. to his daughter, who was on a visit at washington, he writes: "boston, may th, . sunday evening. "my dear child: the contrast in the weather to-day with what it has been most of the time since you left home, is as great as is usual between a bleak november day and the soft air of june. to-day it is beautiful, but on wednesday it snowed, hailed, and rained, and i am told, indeed, that a few miles beyond amherst the snow fell four inches in depth. you have reason to be thankful that you have been in a milder climate, and, at the same time, are seeing all the wonders that open upon you in the new world on which you have entered. "i shall be expecting a letter from you within a day or two; there can be no want of materials where so many new objects are constantly presenting themselves, and there is a pleasure in receiving them just as they appear to you; so you need not be afraid to place before me the first sketches, precisely as you catch them. "to-day i suppose you are in philadelphia, and, if so, i hope you have attended a friends' meeting. the manner of worship and the appearance of the people are different from anything you have seen; and the influence of this sect upon the taste and manners of the people is very striking, particularly in the matter of their dress. it is said that you can judge something of the character of a lady from her dress. without deeming it an essential, i think it of some consequence. this strikes the eye only, and may deceive; how much more important that the dress of the heart and mind and affections be right, and that no deception be found there! i do most earnestly pray god that every opportunity may be improved by you, my dear s., to adorn yourself with all those graces that shall not only charm the eye, but also with those that shall win the affections of those whose affection you would prize, and more especially that you will secure the approval of our best friend. * * * * * "_monday afternoon, may ._--i have received your charming letter, dated on thursday last. it is just the thing, a simple narrative of facts; and you will find plenty of materials of this sort, as i stated to you before. i have been in the saddle to-day nearly five hours with your uncle w. and father taylor, and am very tired, but shall get refreshed by a night's rest. "the day is beautiful, finer than any we have had since you left home. we went to mount auburn, and it appears very lovely; how much better than the dreary resting-places for the dead so common in new england, overgrown with thistles, and the graves hardly designated by a rude stone! our puritan forefathers mistook very much, i think, in making the place of deposit for our mortal remains so forbidding in appearance to the living. a better taste is growing among us. it may become a matter of ostentation (we are so apt to go to extremes), to build sepulchres and monuments to hold our bodies, that will speak to our shame when we are no longer subjects of trial; when, in short, we shall have gone to our account. if these monuments could speak to their living owners, and induce them to labor to merit, while they may, a good word from the future lookers on, then they would be valuable indeed. as it is, i have no fault to find; it is decidedly better than the old fashion of making these tenements look as dreary as anything in this world can look." to the same he writes, a few days later: "tell ---- that i saw little ---- this morning. she is the sweetest little creature that ever lived, and i find myself smiling whenever i think of the dear child in health. sympathy is a powerful agent in illustrating through the countenance the feelings within. i believe my face is as arrant a tell-tale as ever was worn; and whenever i think of those i love, under happy circumstances, i am happy, too. so you may judge how much i enjoy in the belief that you are enjoying so much, and doing so well, in this journey." on february , , he writes to a young friend: "take care that fancy does not beguile you of your understanding in making your choice: a mere picture is not all that is needful in the up and down hills of life. the arrangements of the household and the sick room have more in them to fasten upon the heart than all the beauties and honors of the mere gala days, however successfully shown off. be careful, when you pick, to get a heart, a soul, and a body; not a show of a body that has mere vitality. all this comes in _by the ears_; but it is in,--i will not blot it out." march , he writes to his sister. "i have had so much call for my sympathy, assistance, and advice, among my brethren in trade, that i have little inclination or spirit to write social or family letters since my last; but, in all this turmoil and trouble (and it really is as disastrous as a siege or a famine to the country), i have kept up a good heart, and have been able to view the work of destruction with as much composure as the nature of the case will allow. whatever effects it shall produce on my property, i shall submit to, as the inevitable destruction that comes without any fault of my own, of course without any self-reproaches; but for the authors i feel a just indignation. as regards the pecuniary distress among us, it is subsiding: there have been fewer failures than were anticipated; but there have been numbers on the brink, who have been saved by the help of friends. a few persons have done great service in helping those who could not help themselves; and the consequences will be felt here for years to come in the credit and standing of many worthy people, who must otherwise have been broken down. brother a. has had a load of care and responsibility much too severe for him, and has now agreed to throw off a part of the business as soon as the present pressure is past." april , he writes: "i am busy these days, but have no very important duties, except riding with the ministers and the young ladies." again, a few days later: "i am completely on one side, while i appear to be quite busy in putting in an oar now and then." to his daughter, on her eighteenth birth-day, he writes: "boston, may , . "my dear s.: you have been much in my mind to-day, and now that i am sitting alone this evening, i place myself at your writing-desk to communicate with you, and thus impart some portion of those feelings of interest and affection which a return of this day brings more strongly into play. eighteen years of your life are now passed, and the events of this period have been deeply interesting to me, and have made such impressions on you, and have left such marks of progress, i hope, in the divine life, as will insure your onward and upward course, until you shall join that dear one whose home has been in heaven for nearly the whole period of your life. when i look upon you, or think of your appearance, the image of your mother is before me, and then i feel that deep solicitude that your mind and heart may be imbued with those heavenly influences that gave a grace and charm to all she did. "there is no substitute for those traits, and you may feel entire confidence that a practical use of them in prosperity will prove the best security against the changes which adversity brings about. if i were to select for you the richest portion which a fond father could choose, it would be that you might have a mind and a heart to perform all those duties which your station and condition in life require, upon the true christian principle of using your one or more talents, and thus, at the day of account, receive the cheering sound of the master's voice. "what treasure will compare with this? the charms of life are captivating to the imagination, but there are none more calculated to add to our joys here than elevated christian principles, however they may be branded by the mere worldling as 'cold, unsocial,' and the like. you see how important it is to form a just estimate of the value of these different objects. when a mistake is made here, the consequences may be never-ending. our danger is in cheating ourselves, by leaving undone those things our conscience tells us we ought to do, and doing others that it tells us we ought not to do. "i have thought, for some time past, my dear child, that your mind was laboring under the influence of religious truth, and i have been made most comfortable in this belief. "cultivate those feelings, and study to make your example good to others, as well as safe for yourself. our time here is short, but it is long enough to accomplish the work we are sent to perform, and the consequences will be on our own heads if we omit or neglect to do it." (to the same.) "groton, august , . "dear s.: i have been talking with your grandmother, for the last hour, upon the events of her early days, and i feel (as i always do when i contrast our present condition with the past) that we, as a whole people, and as individuals, have more reasons for gratitude and obedience to our heavenly father than have ever before been placed before any people; and it seems to me we are more likely to disregard them than any other people i have any knowledge of. the fact is, we are so prosperous that we seem to forget the source of our prosperity, and take it as a matter of course that the character and conduct of a people cannot influence their condition. we are ready to say of an individual when he has been reckless and extravagant, that he has brought destruction on himself. why, then, may not a whole people be judged by the same standard? our great danger arises from false principles. we never act above the standard we adopt; and if our standard be so low as to authorize the gratification of the basest passions, how natural that our tastes become conformed to this standard! "these reflections arose in my mind by hearing from my mother the stories of the 'times that tried men's souls;' how she was separated from her husband immediately after her marriage, when he joined the army in rhode island; how, after a battle, his mother said to her 'she did not know but sam was killed;' how she fell instantly upon the floor, and how, within a day or two, after a separation of eight months, she was rejoiced to see her husband safe and sound (although at the time alluded to he had been in great peril, having been saved from captivity by the desperate efforts of a company of blacks, and by the fleetness and force of his fine charger); and how, by confidence in the justness of the cause and the aid of the almighty, they trusted they should get through the contest, and be permitted to enjoy the fruits of their own labor in their own way. and now, what proportion of the people do you suppose refer to the aid of the almighty, or to his justice or judgment as a motive to their actions, or how far does his fear or his love influence their conduct? these questions are more easily asked than answered; but they fill the mind with mournful forebodings of the necessary consequences to any people of forgetting god and departing from his love. you and i, and every individual, have it in our power to keep off in some degree this fatal consummation. let us, therefore, examine well ourselves, and strive to be numbered among those faithful stewards who, at their master's coming, shall be placed among the happy company who enter the joy of their lord. "this morning is one of those delightful quiet sabbaths that seem to be like the rest of the saints above. we are all soon to be on our way to public worship. * * * * (to his mother.) "aug. , . "my dear and honored mother: my mind turns back to you almost as frequently as its powers are brought into separate action, and always with an interest that animates and quickens my pulse; for, under god, it is by your good influence and teachings that i am prepared to enjoy those blessings which he has so richly scattered in my path in all my onward progress in life. how could it be otherwise than that your image should be with me, unless i should prove wholly unworthy of you? your journey is so much of it performed, that those objects which interested you greatly in its early stages have lost their charms; and well it is that they have; for they now would prove _clogs_ in the way and it is to your children, to your saviour, and your god, that your mind and heart now turn as the natural sources of pleasure. each of these, i trust, in their proper place and degree, supply all your wants. the cheering promise that has encouraged you when your powers were the highest, will not fail you when the weight of years and infirmities have made it more necessary to your comfort to get over the few remaining spans of the journey. to god i commend you; and pray him to make the path light, and your way confiding and joyful, until you shall reach that home prepared for the faithful." in a letter to his sister, dated oct. , he further alludes to his mother, as follows "my thoughts this morning have been much engaged with my early home. i conclude it best to embody them in part, and send them forward to add (if they may) a token of gratitude and thankfulness to that dear one who is left to us, for her care of our early days, and her christian instruction and example to her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren; each generation of whom, i trust, will be made better in some of its members by her. it is more natural, when in our weakness and want, to turn our thoughts to those whom they have been accustomed to look to for assistance; and thus to me the impression of the blessing i enjoy in having such a home as mine is, and the blessing i early enjoyed of having such a home as mine was under my father's roof, say to my heart: 'all these increase thy responsibilities, and for their use thou must account.' i have had one of my slight ill turns within the last two days, that has brought back all these feelings with increased force; and i look upon these as gentle monitors, calculated to make me estimate more fully my blessings and my duties. frequently as i am admonished of the frail tenure by which i hold my life, i am negligent and careless in the performance of those high and every-day duties which i should never lose sight of for an hour. i have also such buoyancy of spirits, that life seems to me a very, very great blessing, and i do at times strive to make it useful to those around me." chapter xvii. reflections.--visit to washington.--visit to rainsford island.--views of death.--reflections. from memorandum-book of property, december , : "my expenses have been ---- thousand dollars this year; of which about one half went for persons and objects that make me feel that it has been well expended, and is better used than to remain in my possession. god grant that i may have the disposition to use these talents in such manner as to receive at last the joyful sound of 'well done!'" on march , , mr. lawrence writes: "my anxiety for a day or two about little things kept me from the enjoyment of those bright scenes that are so common to me when not oppressed by any of these _may_ be events. my nerves are in such a shattered state, that i am quite unfit to encounter the responsibilities incident to my station, and i am ashamed of myself thus to expose my weakness." during the spring, mr. lawrence's health was so feeble, and his nervous system so shattered, that a journey was recommended; and, in the month of may, in company with his friend and pastor, the rev. dr. lothrop, he paid a visit to his brother abbott, at washington, then the representative in congress for boston. during this journey, he experienced a severe illness, and was shortly joined by mrs. lawrence. the visit to washington extended through several weeks: and, although his health remained feeble and the weather unfavorable, he seems to have been alive to objects around him, and interested in what was going forward in the halls of congress as well as in the society of the capital. he speaks of visits to the houses of congress, and pleasant rides on horseback, "with hosts of agreeable companions ready to sally forth when the weather shall permit." he also takes a survey of the general state of society in washington, with an occasional allusion to some particular personage. he writes: "it used to be said that washington and the springs were the places for matrimonial speculations. i feel a natural dislike to a lady being brought out as an extraordinary affair, having all perfections, and having refused _forty-nine_ offers, and still being on the carpet. it shows that she is either very silly herself, or has very silly friends, or both. good strong common sense is worth more than forty-nine offers, with any quantity of slaves, or bank-notes, or lands, without it. * * * * * "i have passed two hours in the representatives' hall and senate chamber to-day. i heard the usual sparring, and confess myself greatly interested in it. i could learn nothing of the merits of any of the questions; but i had a preference, such as one feels in seeing two dogs fight, that one should beat. it was very agreeable to me to see and hear those various distinguished characters, and goes to demonstrate the common saying, that some objects appear smaller by our getting nearer to them." during this absence, one of his family remaining at home had experienced a light attack of varioloid; and, according to the law then in force, was obliged to be transported to the quarantine hospital, situated in boston harbor. soon after mr. lawrence's return from the south, he paid a visit to rainsford island, on the invitation of dr. j. v. c. smith, then quarantine physician, and there passed some weeks very pleasantly, riding about the island on his horse, and watching, from the shores, the sea-views, which, with the passing ships, here afford an endless variety. in august, he returned to his own house in boston; and, on the st, writes to his sister as follows: "the scenery in front, side, and rear, and all within, is unrivalled, except by the charms of the dear old home of my mother and sister; in short, it seems to me that no two spots combine so many charms as my early and present homes; and they impress me more fully now by my being so well as to enjoy not only natural scenery, but the social intercourse with loved ones, that more than compensate for anything i may have lost by sickness and suffering. i yesterday was on horseback nearly three hours, but did not ride more than ten miles; and, in that distance, i went over some scenes that i felt unwilling to leave, especially some of the old works on and near dorchester heights, for they appeared more interesting than ever before, from the circumstance of your showing me that mass of original letters from washington, hancock, samuel adams, and various other revolutionary characters, to general ward; some of them touching the occupation of these heights sixty years ago, and some of them alluding to scenes which have scarcely been noticed in the published histories of those days. all go to show, however, the whole souls of those men to have been engaged in their work; and, further, how vain it is for us of this day, who are ambitious of distinction, to found it on any other basis than uprightness of character, purity of life, and the active performance of all those duties included in 'the doing justly, loving mercy, and walking humbly.' how few of us remember this! i hardly know when i have been more forcibly impressed with a plain truth than i was yesterday, while sitting alone on horseback, on the top of the redoubt on dorchester heights, and the considerations of the past, the present, and the future, were the subject of my thoughts, connecting the men of those days with the present, and the men of these days with the future. the evidence is irresistible, that there is a downhill tendency in the character of the people, which, in sixty years more, will make us more corrupt than any other enlightened nation so young as ours, unless we are checked by adversity and suffering. but this is not what i intended to write about, so i will go to something else. the old revolutionary documents, memorials of our father, never appeared to me so interesting as now; and those i now return to you will be carefully preserved, and such others as you may find, added to them. i would give a great sum of money, if by it i could get all the documents i used to see when i was a child, and which we thought of so little value that we did not preserve them with that care which should have been used in a family which cherishes such deep feelings of respect and affection for parents." the year will be remembered as one of great pecuniary embarrassment and distress in the commercial world. mr. lawrence alludes to it as follows, on may "the violent pecuniary revulsion that has been anticipated for more than a year has at length overtaken this country, and is more severe than our worst fears. in addition to the failure of people to pay their debts, in all sections of the country, for the last two months, the banks, from baltimore to boston, and probably throughout the union, as fast as the intelligence spreads, have suspended specie payment, and will not probably resume again very soon." on december of the same year, he writes to his mother as follows "this day completes thirty years since my commencing business, with the hope of acquiring no very definite amount of property, or having in my mind any anticipation of ever enjoying a tithe of that consideration my friends and the public are disposed to award me at this time. in looking back to that period, and reviewing the events as they come along, i can see the good hand of god in all my experience; and acknowledge, with deep humiliation, my want of gratitude and proper return for all his mercies. may each day i live impress me more deeply with a sense of duty, and find me better prepared to answer his call, and account for my stewardship! the changes in our family have been perhaps no greater than usual in other families in that period, excepting in the matter of the eminent success that has attended our efforts of a worldly nature. this worldly success is the great cause of our danger in its uses, and may prove a snare, unless we strive to keep constantly in mind, that to whom much is given, of him will much be required. i feel my own deficiencies, and lament them; but am encouraged and rewarded by the enjoyment, in a high degree, of all my well-meant efforts for the good of those around me. in short, i feel as though i can still do a little to advance the cause of human happiness while i remain here. my maxim is, that i ought to 'work while the day lasts; for the night of death will soon overtake me, when i can no more work.' i continue to mend in strength, and feel at times the buoyancy of early days. it is now raining in torrents, keeping us all within doors. i have been at work with gimblet, saw, fore-plane, and hammer, thus securing a good share of exercise without leaving my chamber." * * * * * "_january , ._--bless the lord, o my soul! and forget not all his benefits; for he has restored my life twice during the past year, when i was apparently dead, and has permitted me to live, and see and enjoy much, and has surrounded me with blessings that call for thankfulness. the possession of my mind, the intercourse with beloved friends, the opportunity of performing some labor as his steward (although imperfectly done), all call upon me for thanksgiving and praise. the violent revulsion in the business of the country during the past year has been ruinous to many; but, so far as my own interests are concerned, has been less than i anticipated. my property remains much as it was a year ago. something beyond my income has been disposed of; and i have no debts against me, either as a partner in the firm or individually. everything is in a better form for settlement than at any former period, and i hope to feel ready to depart whenever called." the following is copied from an account-book, presented at the commencement of the year to his youngest son, then twelve years of age: "my dear son: i give you this little book, that you may write in it how much money you receive, and how you use it. it is of much importance, in forming your early character, to have correct habits, and a strict regard to truth in all you do. for this purpose, i advise you never to cheat yourself by making a false entry in this book. if you spend money for an object you would not willingly have known, you will be more likely to avoid doing the same thing again if you call it by its right name here, remembering always that there is _one_ who cannot be deceived, and that _he_ requires his children to render an account of all their doings at last. i pray god so to guide and direct you that, when your stewardship here is ended, he may say to you that the talents intrusted to your care have been faithfully employed. "your affectionate father, a. l." in transmitting to his sister a letter received from baltimore, from a mutual friend, he writes, on march , in a postscript: "this morning seems almost like a foretaste of heaven. the sun shines bright, the air is soft; i am comfortable, and expect a pleasant drive in the neighborhood. it is indeed brilliant, beautiful, and interesting to me, beyond any former experience of my life. i am the happiest man alive, and yet would willingly exchange worlds this day, if it be the good pleasure of our best friend and father in heaven." the extract quoted above will give an idea of that state of mind in which mr. lawrence was often found by his friends, and which he unceasingly strove to cultivate. he could not always exult in the same buoyant and almost rapturous feelings here expressed; for, with his feeble frame and extreme susceptibility to outward influences, to believe such was the case would be to suppose him more than mortal. the willingness to exchange worlds was, however, a constant frame of mind; and the daily probability of such an event he always kept in view. the work of each day was performed with the feeling that it might be his last; and there is, throughout his correspondence and diary, frequent allusion to the uncertain tenure by which he held life, and his determination to work while the day lasted. if a matter was to be attended to, of great or little importance, whether the founding a professorship, signing a will, or paying a household bill, all was done at the earliest moment, with the habitual remark, "i may not be here to-morrow to do it." in the same cheerful spirit, he writes to his son a few days after his marriage, and then on a journey to virginia: "the whole scene here on thursday last was so delightful that i hardly knew whether i was on the earth, or floating between earth and heaven. i have been exalted ever since, and the group of happy friends will be a sunny spot in your no less than in their remembrance." to his sister he writes, dec. : "it is thirty-one years this week since i commenced business on my own account, and the prospects were as gloomy at that period for its successful pursuit as at any time since; but i never had any doubt or misgiving as to my success, for i then had no more wants than my means would justify. the habits then formed, and since confirmed and strengthened by use, have been the foundation of my good name, good fortune, and present happy condition. at that time (when you know i used to visit you as often as i could, by riding in the night until i sometimes encroached upon the earliest hour of the sabbath before reaching my beloved home, to be at my business at the dawn of day on monday morning), my gains were more than my expenses; thus strengthening and encouraging me in the steady pursuit of those objects i had in view as a beginner. from that time to this, i am not aware of ever desiring or acquiring any great amount by a single operation, or of taking any part of the property of any other man and mingling it with my own, where i had the legal right to do so. i have had such uniform success as to make my fidelity a matter of deep concern to myself; and my prayer to god is, that i may be found to have acted a uniform part, and receive the joyful 'well done,' which is substantial wealth, that no man can take away. if my experience could be made available by my successors, i sometimes feel that it would be a guaranty that they would keep in the best path; but, as they are to be fitted by discipline for the journey, it is perhaps a vain thing for me to allow any doubts to rest upon my mind that _that_ discipline is not for their highest good. the pleasures of memory have never been more highly enjoyed than during the period of my last sickness. they have solaced my pains, and supported me through numerous fainting fits, growing out of the surgical treatment i have endured. i would ask you, my dear sister, if a merciful parent has not stretched forth his hand almost visibly to support me through this trying scene, by scattering in my path these flowers and fruits so freely as almost to make me forget bodily pains; and bless him for what is past, and trust that what is future will be the means of making me a better man." * * * * * "_december , ._--the business of the year now brought to a close has been unexpectedly productive, and the prospects of continued success are very flattering. at the commencement of the year, my life seemed a flickering light, with small hope of its continuance through the winter; but a merciful providence has permitted a brighter view, and my happiness through the year has been superior to that of any year of my life." after enumerating some domestic events which had contributed to this result, he adds: "my own health is so far restored as to allow me the enjoyment of everything around me in perfection. may god in mercy keep me mindful of my duties, and prepared to surrender my account at any moment he may call me hence!" chapter xviii. brother's death.--letters.--gifts.--letters.--diary.--applicants for aid.--reflections.--letter from rev. dr. stone.--diary. if, at the close of the last year, mr. lawrence could say that "his happiness had been superior to that of any year of his life," it could not be said that its successor was one of unmingled brightness. the unbroken band of brothers who had marched thus far hand in hand, united by a common bond of sympathy and affection, sustaining each other in all trials, and rejoicing together in their common prosperity, was about to be sundered. since their earliest days, they had had but one interest, and, residing near each other after leaving their early home, had been in the habit of most constant and intimate intercourse. many of their friends will well remember seeing four, and sometimes five, of them, on sunday evening, after service, walking together abreast, arm in arm; and have been tempted to exclaim, "behold how good and pleasant a thing it is for brethren to dwell together in unity." they had more than obeyed their father's injunction "not to fall out by the way, for a three-fold cord is not quickly broken." with them, it had been a five-fold cord; and, amidst all the perplexities of business, the management of important interests, and the various vicissitudes of domestic life, no strand had been broken until severed by the ruthless hand of death. the eldest brother, luther, had been educated at harvard college; had studied law with the hon. timothy bigelow, then of groton, afterwards of medford, whose sister he subsequently married; and had commenced the practice of his profession in his native town. there he met with good success, and, for many years, represented the town in the house of representatives, of which he was chosen speaker for the session of and . he was induced by his brothers, who had become largely interested in the new town of lowell, to remove thither; and he accordingly took up his residence there in , having accepted the presidency of the bank which had been lately established. in , he had been elected mayor of the city, and had given himself up to the pressing duties incident to the office in a new and growing community. while holding this office, he, on the th of april, , accompanied an old friend and connection, who was on a visit at lowell, to inspect the works of the middlesex manufacturing company, recently erected by his brothers. in passing rapidly through one of the rooms, he made a misstep, and was precipitated many feet into a wheel-pit, causing almost instant death. this sad event was deeply felt by mr. lawrence, as well as by all who knew and appreciated the character of the deceased. in a letter to his sisters, dated april , he says: "i should have addressed a word of comfort to you before this. that he should be taken, and i left, is beyond my _ken_, and is a mystery which will be cleared up hereafter. i do, however, know _now_ that all is right, and better ordered than we could have done it. we _must_ submit, and _should_ be resigned. brother l.'s death may, perhaps, be more efficient in instructing us in the path of duty than would have been his life; and the whole community around is admonished by this event in a way that i have rarely seen so marked. the homage to his character is a legacy to his children of more value than all the gold of the mint. shall we, then, repine at his separation from us? surely not. he has fulfilled his mission, and is taken home, with all his powers fresh and perfect, and with the character of having used these powers for the best and highest good of all around him. we shall all soon be called away, and should make his departure the signal to be also ready. this is the anniversary of my birth, and has been marked by many circumstances of peculiar interest." on the same date, he writes to a connection, who was about to take possession of his house on that day for the first time after his marriage: "i intended speaking a word in your ear before your leaving us for your own fireside and home, but have concluded to take this mode of doing it; and it is to say, that you possess a jewel in your wife, above price, which should be worn in such an atmosphere as will increase its purity and value the longer you possess it; and that is around the family altar. that you intend to establish it, i have no doubt; but, as to the precise time, you may not be fixed. what time so good as the present time, when the first evening of possession of this paradise on earth (a house and home of your own with such a wife), to make that offering to the father of mercies which ascends to his throne as sweet incense from his children? it is the nutriment and efficient producing power of the best principles and the best fruits of our nature. be wise in time, and strive to secure these, that you may go on from one degree to another, until you shall have reached our father's house, and shall hear the cheering 'well done!' promised to such as have used their talents without abusing them. my blessing attend you!" (to his daughter.) "monday evening. "dear s.: the admonition of the last week comes home to me in a way not to be neglected, and i hope to keep in mind that, in my best days, i am as likely to be called off, as in these days of anxious care, when pressed down with pain and weakness, and surrounded by those dear ones who look upon every emotion with deep solicitude. on comparing myself now with myself a year ago, i have much to animate and cheer in the increased strength of body and renewed powers, by which i can enjoy life; but i have also much to speak to the heart, and to tell me to be constantly ready to be called off without previous note of preparation. may i never lose sight, for a single hour, of the tenure by which i hold the privilege of seeing the dear ones settled so happily! it is more than i had reason to anticipate. "may you, dear child, never lose sight of the end for which your privileges are made so ample, nor forego the happiness of doing the best in your power at every stage of your journey, so that whenever you may be called hence, you may feel that you are ready, and that your work is done. it will not do for me to rely upon my every-day firmness to secure me against attacks of the kind last experienced. i do most fervently desire to be kept in mind of my exposure, and never for an hour forget that it may be my last." [illustration: birth place at groton.] several passages in mr. lawrence's letters will show the attachment which he felt towards the place of his birth, connected as it was with so many associations and memories of the past. the old house, with the great elm in front and its welcome shade; the green meadow, stretching for a mile along a gentle declivity to the river; the range of mountains in the west, just distant enough to afford that tinge of blue which adds an indescribable charm to every landscape; the graceful undulations of the hills on the east, with the quiet village sleeping at their base, all seemed in his mind so associated with the loved inmates of his early home, that he ever contemplated the picture with delight. on june , in a letter to his sisters, he writes: "r. leaves us this morning, on his way to the old homestead, which, to my mind's eye, has all the charms of the most lovely associations of early days, with all the real beauty of those splendid descriptions given by the prophets of the holy city. i would earnestly impress all my children with a deep sense of the beauty and benefit of cherishing and cultivating a respect and affection for this dear spot, and for those more dear objects that have served to make it what it really is to all us children." in a letter to his son, whose visit is alluded to above, he says: "the beautiful scenery from gibbet hill, in groton, and from the road from our old mansion south for a mile, towards the wachusett and the monadnock mountains, comes next, in point of beauty, to my taste, to these views around the boston common. be careful to do all things as you will wish you had done, that you may look back upon this visit with pleasure, and forward to another visit with increased relish. remember that in the best performance of all your duties lies the highest enjoyment of all your pleasures. those pleasures that flow from plans and doings that your conscience condemns are to be shunned as the net of the wicked one. when once entangled, the desire and effort to be released grow weaker, till, at length, conscience is put asleep, and the sleep of death comes over the soul. be careful, therefore, to avoid evil, and not only so, but to avoid all appearance of evil. in this way, you will grow up with principles and fixed habits that will secure you against the ills of life, and supply a foretaste of the enjoyments of a better life to come." during a visit which he made to his early home a few months subsequent to the date of the preceding extract, he writes to his daughter: "i was very tired on arriving here last evening, but a quiet sleep has brought me into my best state. "this morning has allowed me to ride for two hours, and i have enjoyed everything and everybody here to the utmost. groton is beautiful beyond any other place i have ever seen; but perhaps i am in the situation of old mr. ----, whose opinion of his wife's beauty, when questioned of its accuracy, was justified by the declaration that the person must have his eyes to look through. "the whole country is full of charms; nothing seems wanting to impress upon the heart the goodness of that parent who seeks by all means to bring us nearer to himself. "this visit has been full of interest, and it is a source of unfeigned thanksgiving that it has been permitted to me." mr. lawrence always took great delight in sending to friends and relatives, little and great, mementoes of his affection; and a great deal of time was spent in penning and reading the letters and notes which such transactions called forth. he had a rare faculty of adapting his gift to the peculiar necessities or tastes of the recipient; and, whether the matter treated of was a check for thousands or a bouquet of flowers, equal pleasure seemed to be given and received. in sending a gift of the former description, he notices the commencement of the year as follows: "january . "dear s.: w. will prize the enclosed more highly from your hand; for he will have proof that a good wife brings many blessings, that he never would know the value of but for you. may you experience many returns of the 'new year,' and each more happy than the past!" in a letter to his second son, then on a visit to europe, he writes, under date of march , : "we are all curious to know what impressions your visit to france and italy produces, and still more what impressions a careful overlooking of our fatherland makes upon you. there is much food for reflection, and abundant material for the exercise of your powers of observation, in every league of the '_fast_-anchored isle,' especially in the scenes so beautifully portrayed in many of the books we have access to. in fact, i have an extensive collection of materials to renew your travels and observations, and shall value them more highly when you point out this or that seat or castle or abbey, which has arrested your notice. but the best scenes will be those in which the living souls of the present day are engaged. the habits and tastes of the people of england have doubtless much changed since the _spectator_ days; but, in many important particulars, i should hope they had not. some thirty years ago, i had a good specimen of the feelings and principles of a great variety of people, embracing almost all classes, from the year to , in a multitude of letters that had accumulated in the post-office in this town, under tuthill hubbart. after his death, his house was pulled down; and, among the strange things found in it, were bushels of letters, of which i was permitted to take what i pleased. these letters showed a deeper religious feeling in the writers of those days, from england, ireland, and scotland, than i have seen in any miscellaneous collections of a later date. if that deep-toned piety which pervaded them has not been extinguished by the jacobinism and freethinking of later days, happy for the people and the government! but i fear it has, in some great measure, been blotted out or obscured, as there seems to be a spirit of reckless adventure in politics and religion not contemplated seventy years ago. how far our experience in self-government in this country is going to advance the cause of good government, and the ultimate happiness of man, is yet a problem. our principles are of the most elevating character; our practices under them, of the most debasing; and, if we continue in this way another generation, there will not be virtue enough in active use to save the forms of our government. we may hope that a better heart may be given us." in a letter to his son-in-law, the rev. charles mason, who was at that time in company with his own son on a visit to england, he writes on june th, : "i intended to defer writing until to-morrow morning; but the beauty of the western scenery and sunset is so striking, that i am strongly impelled to tell you that, much as you see, and highly as you enjoy the scenes of old england, there is nothing there more beautiful and sublime than this very scene from my chamber windows. it seems as though nature never was so beautifully dressed at this time of the year as at present. the season has been unusually favorable for the foliage, fruits, and flowers; and all around bears evidence of that goodness that never rests, and in my own person i feel that i am enjoying in a month what ought to content me for a year." the foregoing extract is selected from among many others of a similar nature, as an illustration of mr. lawrence's appreciation of the beauties of natural scenery. towards the close of the day, his favorite seat was at a window, from which he could witness the glories of the setting sun, and, still later, the fading beauties of the twilight. nature to him was no sealed volume; and with her, in all her phases, he loved to commune. the gorgeous hues of the western sky, the changing tints of the autumnal foliage, and the smiling features of the landscape, were in his mind typical of the more resplendent beauties of the future world. he writes: "to-day is one of those holy spring days which make us feel that, with right principles and conduct, we may enjoy a foretaste of that beautiful home we all long for. i have been over the roxbury and dorchester hills, which are a transcript of the beautiful scenery around jerusalem. mount zion seemed before me, and by stretching my arms, i could almost fly upon its sides." he loved to think that the spirits of the departed may be permitted to hover around, and minister to those whom they have once loved on earth; and sometimes, as he viewed nature in her softer moods, he would imagine himself as holding communion with former cherished objects of affection. he writes to a friend: "dear s. and r. speak in words without sounds, through every breeze and in every flower, and in the fragrance of every perfume from the field or the trees." and again: "is there anything in scripture to discourage the belief that the spirits of departed friends are still ministering spirits to such as are left here, and that a recognition and reünion will follow when we are called off? i believe fully in this happy reünion; and it is, next to the example of the beloved, the most animating feeling that prompts me through this wearisome journey." to a friend who had invited him to pay her a visit at her residence in the country, he writes: "n---- says i am like a child in the matter of the visit, and would be as much disappointed if it should not be accomplished; and i must admit that i am guilty of this weakness. there are so many loved ones on the old spot, so many lessons to be reviewed, and so many friends 'passed on,' whose spirits surround and fill the place with the peculiar halo and charm of the good angels (those ministering spirits in whose company we may ever find comfort, if we will think so). i say, with all these things, can i be blamed for being a child in this matter? you will all say no, and will love me the better for it." on the anniversary of his commencing his business, dec. , mr. lawrence, as usual, reviews his past life and mercies, and adds: "my daily aspirations are for wisdom and integrity to do what is required of me; but the excuses for omissions, and the hidden promptings of pride or selfishness in the sins of commission, take away all confidence that all is done as it should be. i am in the enjoyment of as much as belongs to our condition here. wife, children, and friends, those three little blessings that were spared to us after the fall, impart enjoyment that makes my home as near a heaven on earth as is allowed to mortals. "_dec. ._--this morning has been clear and beautiful, and i have enjoyed it highly. have been sleigh-riding with chancellor kent. went over to bunker hill monument, and around by the river-side to charlestown neck, and had a regular old-fashioned talk with him. he gave me an account of the scenes which occurred where he was studying, in connecticut, when the news came of the lexington fight. as we parted, he promised to come again in the spring, take another ride, and resume the conversation. he leaves for new york at three o'clock, and is as bright and lively as a boy, though seventy-eight years old. the old gentleman attends to all his own affairs, had walked around the city this morning some miles, been to the providence railroad dépôt for his ticket, overlooked divers bookstores, and so forth. he is very interesting, and has all the simplicity of a child." about this time, also, mr. lawrence seems to have had pleasant intercourse with the chevalier hulsemann, the austrian minister, so well known by his correspondence with mr. webster when the latter was secretary of state. the minister was on a visit to boston, and, from the correspondence which ensued, seems to have conceived a high regard for mr. lawrence, expressed in very kind and courteous terms; and this regard seems to have been fully reciprocated. "_april , ._--s. n., of t., an apprentice on board the united states ship 'columbus,' in this harbor, thirteen years old, whom i picked up intoxicated in beacon-street a month ago, and to whom i gave some books, with request to call and see me when on shore, came to-day, and appears very well. gave him a testament and some good counsel. "_june ._--g. m. called to sell a lot of sermons called the ----, which he said he caused to be published to do good; he repeated it so often that i doubted him. he seems to me a _wooden nutmeg_ fellow, although he has the rev. mr. ----'s certificate." the preceding entry is given here merely as a sample of many such which are found in mr. lawrence's diary. few who have not had the like experience can estimate the annoyance to which his reputation for benevolence and well-doing subjected him, in the shape of applications for aid in every imaginable form. his perceptions were naturally acute; and a long experience and intercourse with men enabled him to form, at a single glance, a pretty fair estimate of the merits of the applicant. he may sometimes have judged precipitately, and perhaps harshly; but, when he discovered that he had done so, no one could have been more ready to confess his fault and make reparation. a few years after this time, the annoyance became so serious, from the number and character of the applicants, that he felt obliged, on account of ill-health, to deny himself to all, unless personally known to him, or accredited by some one in whose statement he had confidence. further than this, he was confirmed in his decision by actual abuse which had occasionally been administered to him by disappointed candidates for charitable aid. he kept upon his table a small memorandum-book, in which he recorded the names of those who sought aid, with their business, and often their age, the age and number of their children, sometimes facts in their past history, and any other information which could enable him to form an opinion of their claim upon him for assistance. he sometimes indulges also in somewhat quaint remarks respecting those who apply, or the manner in which they have presented their application. to the rev. robert turnbull, a baptist clergyman then settled in boston, and who had sent to mr. lawrence a copy of his work entitled "claims of jesus," he writes under date of nov. : "rev. and dear sir: i thank you for the little volume so kindly presented, and deem it the duty of all the friends of the saviour to do what they can to stop the flood of infidelity and atheism that threatens such waste and devastation among us. however we may seem to be, i trust many may be found, in the ranks of my unitarian friends, who admit the 'claims of jesus' in their most elevated character, and who repudiate the doctrine of those who sink him to the level of a mere human teacher, as subversive of his authority and as nullifying his teachings. we take the record, and what is clearly declared; we do not go behind, even though we do not clearly comprehend it. it gives me pleasure to learn you are so well recovered from the injury you received from the overturn of your carriage near my house. "with great respect, believe me truly yours, a. l." "_january, ._--this year opens with renewed calls upon me to bless god for his mercies throughout its course. my family circle has not been broken by the death of any one of our whole number, and my own health has been better for the last half-year than for five years before. i have not had occasion to call a physician through the year. my brothers a. and w. have been dangerously sick, but are happily recovered; and both feel, i believe, that their hold on life is not as firm as they have felt it to be in former years. my dear children are growing up around me to bless and comfort me; and all i need is a right understanding of my duties, and a sincere purpose to fulfil them. i hope to have the will to continue them in as faithful a manner as heretofore, to say the least." among the traits in mr. lawrence's character was that enlarged spirit of christian feeling which enabled him to appreciate goodness in others, without reference to sect or denomination. this spirit of universal brotherhood was not in him a matter of mere theory, but was carried out in the practice of daily life, and was the means of cementing many and lasting friendships, especially among the clergy of various denominations around him. it may not be uninteresting in future years, for those now in childhood, for whom this volume has been prepared, to be reminded of the strong feeling of sympathy and affection which their grandfather entertained for the rev. john s. stone, d.d., once the rector of st. paul's church, in boston, and now the rector of st. paul's, in brookline, mass. the following is an extract from a letter written by that gentleman from brooklyn, n. y., daring the year , with a memorandum endorsed by mr. lawrence, dated october, , in which he says: "this letter was very interesting to me when received. i kept it in my pocket-book with one from judge story, which he had requested me to keep for my children. while son ---- was in europe, i did not expect to live but a short time, and sent him the two letters, as the proper person to keep them for the use of his children." the letter commences by strong expressions of affection and regard, over which mr. lawrence's modesty had induced him to paste a slip of paper, endorsed as follows: "personal matters between the writer and myself, covered up here, and not to be read by any of the friends to whom i may show this letter." the letter continues as follows: "shall i ever forget the happy moments, hours, days, i may say weeks, which i have spent in riding with you, and chatting, as we rode, of all things as we passed them, till i seemed to myself to be living in the by-gone days of boston and its neighborhood; and all its old families, houses, names, and anecdotes, became as familiar to my mind as the stories of my boyhood? can i forget it all? i trow not. these things are all blended in with the beautiful scenery through which we used to ride, and associated with those graver lessons and reflections which you used to give me; insomuch that the picture which my memory retains of nature, society, history, and feeling, truth, friendship, and religion, and in which boston and the living friends there are comprehended, has become imperishable. it never can fade out of my mind. it is a picture in which man has done much, friendship more, religion most, and god all; for religion is his, and friendship is from him, and man is his creature, and the green earth and glorious heavens are his home. there are many, very many, objects in this picture, which i contemplate with special delight; and few which give me pain, or which i would not have had there, had the whole ordering of its composition been left to me. indeed, had this whole ordering been left to me, it may well be doubted whether, as a whole, it would have contained half of the beautiful and blessed things which it now contains. taking it as it is, therefore, i am well content to receive it, hang it up in the choicest apartment of my memory, and keep it clean and in good order for use." * * * as an illustration of the pleasant intercourse alluded to above, among mr. lawrence's papers is found another most friendly letter from the rev. henry ware, jun., dated a few days afterwards, with the following endorsement: "i went on friday to mr. ware's house, and had a free, full, and deeply-interesting conversation upon the appointment of his successor; and was delighted to find him with the same views i have upon the necessity of removing the theological department from cambridge." dec. , mr. lawrence alludes to the probability of his own death taking place in the manner in which it actually occurred ten years afterwards, as follows: "yesterday i was very well, and have been so for some time past. experienced a severe ill turn this morning at five o'clock, more so than for years. this check brings me back to the reflection that, when i feel the best, i am most likely to experience one of my ill turns; some one of which will probably end my journey in this life. god grant me due preparation for the next!" chapter xix. reflections.--letters.--account of efforts to complete bunker hill monument. in the memorandum-book of property for is found the usual estimate and list of expenditures; after which mr. lawrence writes as follows: "my outlay for other objects than my own family, for the last fourteen years, has been ---- dollars, which sum i esteem better invested than if in bond and mortgage in the city; and i have reason to believe many have been comforted and assisted by it, and its influence will be good on those who follow me. god grant me grace to be faithful to my trust!" to hon. r. c. winthrop, member of congress, at washington, enclosing a letter from a young colored man: "boston, feb. , . "dear sir: this young man, as you will observe by his style, is well educated; and the circumstances he states, i have no doubt, are true. he applied to me, about two years since, for employment in writing or other business, to obtain means for further education; and i interested myself to secure to him what was required. a few months since, he started from here to go to jamaica, to commence the practice of law, and was supplied by those who had taken an interest in him with a library suited to his wants. he received his early education in indiana; and his parents were once slaves. he is a handsome colored fellow, better-mannered, better-looking, and more to be respected, than many young gentlemen who move in the higher walks of life, either in carolina or massachusetts. now, i should like to know, if he should be admitted as an attorney to practice in our courts, and should take passage for jamaica, and put into charleston, would he be imprisoned, as is now the practice in regard to our black sailors? i feel a much stronger desire to see your report upon this subject of imprisoning our colored people, after the unfair course taken by the majority of your house to smother it; and i hope still to see it in print before the adjournment. i would further remark, that n. t. is a member of grace church in this city, i believe, under the care of rev. t. m. clark; and would, doubtless, bear affliction, if it should ever be his fortune to be afflicted by being imprisoned because his skin is dark, with a spirit becoming his profession. with great respect and esteem, believe me very truly yours, amos lawrence." (to his sister.) "boston, april , . "dear sister m.: when i heard a gun this morning, i was immediately transported back in imagination to the th of april, , when our grandmother retreated from her house on the roadside in concord, with her family, to keep out of the way of the 'regulars;' and that day and its scenes, as described, came back upon me with a force which kept me awake in considering whether the gun was fired to recall the facts to the people of this day; and, if recalled, whether we can profit by the events which followed. i found, however, on receiving my newspapers, that the gun was not for commemoration of lexington and concord, but to announce the arrival of the british steamer from liverpool. the news by this steamer is of no more than common interest; and the intercourse is now so easy and rapid, that the interest felt to learn what is passing in europe is not much greater than we used to feel on call's stage-coach arriving at groton from boston once a week, fifty years ago. the changes within my own recollection are such as almost to make me distrust my own senses; and many of the changes are at the cost of much good. the downhill tendency in the standard of character is a bad sign, and threatens the prostration of our political fabric. built as it is on the virtue and intelligence of the people, every waste of these endangers the stability of the whole structure." "_april ._--i resume, though not in the same train of thought, which is slept off. my birth-day has passed since then; and i am now in my fifty-eighth year. this is the birth-day of our father, who would have been eighty-nine if living; and this week on saturday will also complete thirty-six years since i left home to spend a few months in this city, preparatory to my commencing business in groton. here i have continued; and the consequences to our family seem to have stamped upon us such marks as make us objects of influence, for good or evil, to a much greater extent than if i had returned to commence my business career in my native town. i view in this a hand pointing upward,--'seek me and ye shall find,'--and a caution to us to use without abusing the good things intrusted to us. how hard it is for those in prosperity to bring home to their feelings their dependence, their abuse of their privileges, their desires for objects wholly disproportionate to their value, their anxiety about trifles, while they are so utterly careless and indifferent about those of the highest moment! how we strive unceasingly to secure objects that can, at best, give us but a slight reward, and, in many cases, if attained to the full extent of our hopes, only serve to sharpen our appetite for more; thus demonstrating the benevolence of our heavenly father in removing these obstacles to our progress in the ways and works of godliness! how important, then, for us to see a father's hand in the disappointments, not less than in the success, of our plans! i now speak practically of those anxieties which i feel and condemn myself for, in looking forward to the condition of my family. this is all wrong; and i pray god to pardon me the want of faith this feeling implies. "i have thought much of your account of mrs. n. going out, on the sabbath after her husband's death, with her nine children. i remember her, and many others of my youthful schoolmates, with interest and regard. please say so to her. and now, dear m., as the clouds seem thinner, i may hope to secure a little run, and shall take the post-office in my way; so must bid you adieu." (to general ----.) "may , . "my dear old general: our anticipated drive to-day is not to be: the weather settles it that i must keep house; and, to indemnify myself for the disappointment, will you allow me to feel that i have not gone too far in requesting you to receive the enclosed check? i am spared here for some object, and do not feel that to hoard money is that object. while i am in the receipt of an income so ample, i find it sometimes troublesome to invest exactly to my mind. in the present case, the hope that you may, by using this, add something to your enjoyment, makes me feel that it is one of my best investments; and for the reason that your proverbial good-will cannot refuse me such a boon, i have made this request. my heart yearns strongly toward the old-fashioned john jay school in politics and morals; and, when i have an opportunity to minister in any way to one of the early members, it is a pleasure that sweetens my days as they pass." on the letter written in reply to the above, mr. lawrence has endorsed: "this letter from old general ----, now eighty-eight years old, and blind, is an acknowledgment of some little kindnesses i was enabled to render through the hand of judge story. it has afforded me more pleasure than it could have done either the judge or the general. i am sure the good old man's feelings were gratified; and i am thankful that i could comfort him." on the th of june, , took place the celebration in honor of the completion of the bunker hill monument; an event which was regarded with no ordinary emotions by mr. lawrence, after so many years of effort and expectation. his only regret was that the whole battle-field could not have been preserved, and have remained, to use his own words, "a field-preacher for posterity." eleven years before this, he had written to his son in europe: "if we be true to ourselves, our city is destined to be the athens of america, and the hallowed spots in our neighborhood to be the objects of interest throughout all future time. in this view, i would never permit a foot of the battle-field of bunker hill to be alienated; but keep it for your great-great-grandchildren, as a legacy of patriotism worth more than their portion of it, if covered with gold by measure. until you are older, i do not expect you to feel as i do on this subject." this would seem to be the proper place to mention a few facts in regard to mr. lawrence's agency in securing the completion of the monument. it has already been mentioned that he was one of the earliest friends of the project to erect a monument, and, in , had been placed upon the standing committee of directors, with full powers to manage the affairs of the association. in september, , in a letter to his friend, dr. j. c. warren, who himself had been one of the warmest and most efficient advocates of the measure, he proposed to subscribe five thousand dollars, on condition that fifty thousand dollars should be raised within one year. the following passage occurs in that letter: "i think it inexpedient to allude to the sale of the land on bunker hill, as a resource for paying the debt, except in case of extreme necessity; and, at this time, i should personally sooner vote to sell ten acres of the common, in front of my house, to pay the city debt (of boston), than vote to sell the ten acres on bunker hill, until it shall appear that our citizens will not contribute the means of saving it." the proposition thus made was not responded to by the public.[ ] as early as december, , he had made provision by his will, in case of his own death, to secure the battle-field, liquidate the debts of the corporation, and complete the monument. these provisions were superseded by another will, executed april , , after his health had failed, so as to forbid active participation in affairs. an extract from this document will show the views of the testator: "i am of opinion that the land owned by the bunker hill monument association, in charlestown, will be of great value to posterity, if left as public ground. the spot is the most interesting in the country; and it seems to me it is calculated to impress the feelings of those who come after us with gratitude to the people of this generation, if we preserve it to them. the whole field contains about fifteen acres; and, in the hope of preserving it entire, either as the property of the state, of this city, or of any other competent body, and with the further view of insuring the completion of the monument, which now stands as a reproach to us, i have set apart a larger share of my property than would be necessary, had not the subject been presented to the public in such a manner as to discourage future attempts at raising the necessary funds by voluntary contribution." [ ] for a history of the bunker hill monument, see an article in collections of "maine historical society," vol. iii., by professor packard, of bowdoin college. the amount thus devised for the monument, in case that amount should not be raised in other ways, was fifty thousand dollars. in june, , before the annual meeting of the bunker hill monument association, the same offer of five thousand dollars, as first named, was renewed, with an urgent appeal for the preservation of the land, and completion of the monument. a movement followed this appeal, but was not successful. in april, , mr. lawrence proposed to the massachusetts charitable mechanic association to attempt the raising of fifty thousand dollars, to be secured within three months, for completing the monument and preserving the field; accompanying the proposition was an offer of five thousand dollars, or ten per cent. on any less sum that might be raised, as a donation to the association. a public meeting was held in faneuil hall in response to this proposition, at which hon. edward everett made a most powerful appeal, which produced so great an effect upon his auditors that the object was considered as accomplished. the effort was again unsuccessful. early in , mr. lawrence addressed a letter to george darracott, esq., president of the mechanic association, in which, after expressing regret that his feeble and precarious health would not permit him to make personal application to the citizens of boston, he adds: "the next best thing i can do is to give money. the monument association owes a debt. to discharge the debt, finish the monument, surround it with a handsome iron fence, and otherwise ornament the ground as it deserves, will require forty thousand dollars more than it now has. if the association will collect thirty thousand dollars the present year, and pay off the debt, i will give to the charitable mechanic association ten thousand dollars to enable it to complete the work in a manner which our fathers would have done, had they been here to direct it." a further donation of ten thousand dollars was made by judah touro, esq., of new orleans; five thousand dollars were received from other sources; and this, with thirty thousand dollars received at the great fair held in quincy hall, september, , afforded the means of completing the monument according to the original design. thus was consummated a work which had been very near to mr. lawrence's heart, and which had cost him many a sleepless night, as well as days of toil and perplexity. to his associates in this work too much credit cannot be awarded, discouraged, as they often were, by indifference, and even censure. their names will be handed down for centuries, in connection with a monument, which, while it commemorates a nation's freedom, teaches also a practical lesson of the perseverance and energy of man. the following is an extract from a newspaper published about the time the monument was completed, giving an account of a festival held in commemoration of the event: "the president remarked, that, among the benefactors to whom the association had been particularly indebted for the means of completing the monument, two, whose names were written on a scroll at the other end of the hall, were amos lawrence and judah touro, each of whom had made a donation of ten thousand dollars. he thought it proper they should be remembered at the festive board, and gave the following: "amos and judah! venerated names! patriarch and prophet press their equal claims; like generous coursers, running neck and neck, each aids the work by giving it a check. christian and jew, they carry out a plan; for, though of different faith, each is in heart a man." chapter xx. interest in mount auburn.--rev. dr. sharp.--letter from bishop mcilvaine.--letter from judge story. after the establishment of the cemetery at mount auburn, mr. lawrence had taken a deep interest in its progress, as well as in every plan for its gradual improvement and embellishment. in connection with his brothers, he had purchased a large space, which had been enclosed by a permanent granite wall and iron railing. to this spot he habitually resorted, containing, as it did, the remains of some of the dearest earthly objects of his affection, and destined, as it was, to be the final resting-place of not only himself, but of the various branches of his family. when this enclosure had been finished, it became an object with him to gather around him in death those whom he had loved and honored in life. in this way, he had been instrumental in causing to be removed to a burial-lot adjoining his own the remains of the rev. j. s. buckminster, the former minister of brattle-street church; and had also presented another lot to his friend and pastor, the rev. dr. lothrop. another friend, whose grave he wished to have near his own, was the rev. daniel sharp, d.d., minister of the charles-street baptist church, in boston. there were few in boston who were not familiar with the appearance of this venerable clergyman, as he daily appeared in the streets; and fewer still who had not learned to appreciate the truly catholic and christian spirit which animated him in his intercourse with men of all sects and parties. mr. lawrence had early entertained a great esteem for his character; and this esteem had become mutual, and had ripened into the closest intimacy and friendship. on receiving a deed of a lot at mount auburn, dr. sharp writes as follows: "boston, august , . "my dear sir: i cannot find words with which to express my sense of your unexpected and considerate kindness, in providing so beautiful a resting-place in mount auburn for me and my loved ones. it is soothing to me to anticipate that my grave will be so near your own. may the almighty, in his infinite mercy, grant, that, when the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall awake, we may both rise together, to be forever with the lord! if the proximity of my last place of repose to ministers of another denomination shall teach candor, charity, and peace, i enjoy the sweet consciousness that this will be in harmony with the object of my life. yours, gratefully, "daniel sharp. "amos lawrence, esq." the enlarged christian spirit which formed so prominent a trait in mr. lawrence's character, and which enabled him to appreciate goodness wherever it could be found, without reference to nation, sect, or color, may be further illustrated by the following note of acknowledgment, received about the same time with the preceding, from bishop mcilvaine, of the protestant episcopal church in ohio, who was then on a visit to boston to procure funds in aid of kenyon college: "wednesday evening. "my dear sir: i have just received your very kind and grateful letter, with its cheering enclosure of a hundred dollars towards an object which engrosses me much just now. thank you, dear sir, most truly, for your kindness, and the _first fruits_ of boston, for i came only to-day. i trust the ingathering will not dispossess the first ripe sheaf. coming from one not of my own church, it is the more kind and grateful. o, sir! if god shall so bless my present effort as to send me home with the sum i seek, i shall know a freedom of mind from care and anxiety such as i have not experienced for many years, during which our present crisis has been anticipated. i shall have great pleasure in riding with you, according to your note to mr. r. to-morrow will probably be a day of more leisure to me than any other while i shall be in boston. "yours, very truly and respectfully, "charles p. mcilvaine." (to one of his partners.) "december , . "dear mr. parker: i am _puffed up_ (with ague), but not in a manner to gratify my pride, as i am housed, and denied the sight of most of those who call, but not the privilege of reading their papers, and spending money. in short, i have more use for money when in the house than when able to be abroad. if you will tell brother sharp[ ] his beautiful bills find an exceedingly ready use, i shall be glad of one hundred in ones and twos, two hundred in fives, and three hundred in tens and twenties; say six hundred dollars, just to keep me along till the end of the month. the calls are frequent and striking. 'do with thy might what thy hand findeth to do; for the night cometh, when no man can work.' god grant me the blessing of being ready to answer the call, whether it be at noon or at midnight!" [ ] for more than forty years teller in massachusetts bank. twelve days after, he writes to the same gentleman for another supply; the sum already received not having been sufficient apparently to carry him through the year: "december , . "'the good there is in riches lieth altogether in their use, like the woman's box of ointment; if it be not broken and the contents poured out for the refreshment of jesus christ, in his distressed members, they lose their worth; the covetous man may therefore truly write upon his rusting heaps, "these are good for nothing." he is not rich who lays up much, but he who lays out much; for it is all one not to have, as not to use. i will therefore be the richer by charitable laying out, while the worldling will be poorer by his covetous hoarding up.' "here is the embodiment of a volume, and whoever wrote it deserves the thanks of good men. i would fain be rich, according as he defines riches; but _possession, possession, is the devil_, as the old frenchman at ---- said to george cabot. this devil i would try to cast out; you will therefore please send me twelve hundred dollars, which may do something for the comfort of those who have seen better days. your friend, a. l. "to c. h. parker, esq." the following letter from judge story was received at about the time the preceding letter was written; but no memorandum is found by which to ascertain the occasion which called it forth. it may be that he had been made the channel, as was the case a few months before, of some donation to a third person; a mode which mr. lawrence often adopted when he felt a delicacy in proffering direct aid to some one whose sensitiveness might be wounded in receiving assistance from a comparative stranger: "cambridge, saturday noon. "my dear sir: i have this moment finished reading your letter and its enclosures, which did not reach me until this noon, and i can scarcely describe to you how deeply i have been affected by them. i almost feel that you are too much oppressed by the constant calls for charitable purposes, and that your liberal and conscientious spirit is tasked to its utmost extent. 'the poor have ye always with you' is a christian truth; and i know not, in the whole circle of my friends, any one who realizes it so fully, and acts upon it so nobly, as yourself. god, my dear sir, will reward you for all your goodness; man never can. and yet the gratitude of the many whom you relieve, their prayers for your happiness, their consciousness of your expanded benevolence, is of itself a treasure of inestimable value. it is a source of consolation, which you would not exchange for any earthly boon of equal value. wealth is to you an enlightened trust, for the benefit of your race. you administer it so gracefully, as well as so justly, that i can only regret that your means are not ten times as great. gracious heavens! what a contrast is your life to that of some wealthy men, who have lived many years, and have yet to learn how to give, or, as you beautifully expressed it the other day, who have yet to learn to be their own executors! my heart is so full of you, and of the whole matter, that i would fain pour out my thoughts at large to you; for you understand _me_, and i can sympathize with _you_. but just now i am full of all sorts of business, and without a moment to spare, having many judicial opinions to prepare in the few remaining days before i go to washington; and, withal, having mrs. s. very ill, in respect to whom i feel a deep anxiety. but, wherever i am, i pray you to believe that you are always in my thoughts, with the warmest affection and dearest remembrance. and, if this hasty scrawl is not too slight for such a matter, pray preserve it among your papers, that your children may know what i thought of their father, when you and i shall be both in our graves. "i am most truly and faithfully your obliged friend, "joseph story. "amos lawrence, esq. "p. s.--i have sent the letter and its accompaniments to mr. ----. think of ----. think of those rich men in ----, who have never dreamed of the duties of charity. cast a view to their own posterity. how striking a memento is the very case of ----, presented in his own letters, of the instability of human fortune!" mr. lawrence closes the year by a review of his temporal affairs, and by fresh resolutions of fidelity to his trusts. he then gives an estimate of his income and expenditures, showing a somewhat large excess of the latter, though, as he says, from the state of the times, not to the detriment of his property. (to the mechanic apprentices' library association.) "my young friends: it cheers and comforts me to learn of your well-doing, and encourages me to offer a word of counsel, as prosperity is often more dangerous in its time than adversity. now is your seed-time. see to it that it is good; for 'whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap.' the integrity, intelligence, and elevated bearing, of the boston mechanics, have been and are a property for each citizen of great value; inasmuch as the good name of our beloved city is a common property, that every citizen has an interest in, and should help to preserve. at your time of life, habits are formed that grow with your years. avoid rum and tobacco, in all forms, unless prescribed as a medicine; and i will promise you better contracts, heavier purses, happier families, and a more youthful and vigorous old age, by thus avoiding the beginning of evil. god speed you, my young friends, in all your good works! with the enclosed, i pray you to accept the felicitations of the season. "amos lawrence." chapter xxi. acquaintance with president hopkins.--letters.--affection for brattle-street church.--death of mrs. appleton.--letters.--amesbury co. at the commencement of the year , president hopkins, of williams college, delivered a course of lectures on the "evidences of christianity," before the lowell institute, in boston. mr. lawrence had previously seen him, and had thought that he detected, in some features of his face, a resemblance to the family of his first wife. in allusion to this acquaintance, he writes to his son about this period: "president h. has the family look of your mother enough to belong to them; and it was in consequence of that resemblance, when i was first introduced to him many years ago, that i inquired his origin, and found him to be of the same stock." the acquaintance was renewed, and an intimacy ensued, which was not only the cause of much happiness to mr. lawrence through the remainder of his life, but was also the means of directing his attention to the wants of williams college, of which he eventually became the greatest benefactor. an active and constant correspondence followed this acquaintance, and was so much prized by mr. lawrence that he had most of the letters copied, thereby filling several volumes, from which extracts will from time to time be made. in one of his first letters to that gentleman, dated may , he says: "if, by the consecration of my earthly possessions to some extent, i can make the christian character practically more lovely, and illustrate, in my own case, that the higher enjoyments here are promoted by the free use of the good things intrusted to me, what so good use can i make of them? i feel that my stewardship is a very imperfect one, and that the use of these good things might be extended profitably to myself; and, since i have known how much good the little donation did your college, i feel ashamed of myself it had not been larger,--at any rate, sufficient to have cleared the debt." to the same gentleman, who had informed mr. lawrence that an accident had befallen a plaster bust of himself, he writes, under date of may : "dear president: you know the phrase 'such a man's head is full of notions' has a meaning that we all understand to be not to his credit for discretion, whatever else may be said of him. as i propose throwing in a caveat against this general meaning, i proceed to state my case. and, firstly, president h. is made debtor to the western railroad corporation for the transportation of a barrel to pittsfield. the bill is receipted, so that you can have the barrel to-morrow by sending for it; which barrel contains neither biscuit nor flour, but the clay image of your friend. in the head are divers notions that my hand fell upon as i was preparing it for the jaunt; and, when the head was filled with things new and old, i was careful to secure the region under the shoulders, especially on the _left side_, and near the heart, by placing there that part of a lady's dress which designates a government that we men are unwilling openly to acknowledge, but is, withal, very conservative. within its folds i wrapped up very securely 'pilgrim's progress,' and stuffed the empty space between my shoulders, and near my heart, _brim full_, i hope my young friend will find a motive and a moral in the image and in the book, to cheer him on in his pilgrimage of life." * * * * * "_july , ._--sixty-seven years ago this day, my mother, now living, was married; and, while standing up for the ceremony, the alarm-bell rang, calling all soldiers to their posts. my father left her within the hour, and repaired to cambridge; but the colonel, in consideration of the circumstances, allowed him to return to groton to his wife, and to join his regiment within three days at rhode island. this he did, spending but a few hours with his wife; and she saw nothing more of him until the last day of the year, when he made her a visit. i have ordered a thousand dollars paid to the massachusetts general hospital, to aid in enlarging its wings, and to commemorate this event. the girls of this day know nothing of the privations and trials of their grandmothers." on the same day with the above entry in his diary occurs another, in which he alludes to assistance afforded to some young persons in brattle-street church,--"sons of brattle-street, and, as such, assisted by me." mr. lawrence's early religious associations were connected with this church, where, it is believed, he attended from the first sunday after his coming to boston. with such associations, and connected as they were with the most endeared recollections of those who had worshipped there with him in early days, all that pertained to this venerable church possessed a strong and abiding interest. in this connection is quoted the beautiful testimony of his pastor, the rev. dr. lothrop, furnished in the funeral sermon delivered by him, where he speaks of mr. lawrence's love for the church, as well as of his religious character: "the prominent feature in mr. lawrence's life and character, its inspiration and its guide, was religion,--religious faith, affection, and hope. he loved god, and therefore he loved all god's creatures. he believed in christ as the messiah and saviour of the world, and therefore found peace and strength in his soul, amid all the perils, duties, and sorrows of life. his religious opinions lay distinct and clear in his own mind. they were the result of careful reading and of serious reflection, and were marked by a profound reverence for the sacred scriptures, and the divine authority of jesus christ. a constant worshipper here during the forty-six years of his residence in this city, for more than forty years of this period a communicant, and for more than ten a deacon of this church,--resigning the office, at length, because of his invalid state of health,--he had strong attachments to this house of god. 'our venerable church,' he says in one of his notes to me, 'has in it deeply impressive, improving, instructive, and interesting associations, going back to the early days of my worshipping there; and the prayers of my friends and fellow-worshippers of three generations, in part now belonging there, come in aid of my weakness in time of need; and no other spot, but that home where i was first taught my prayers, and this my domestic fireside, where my children have been taught theirs, has the same interest as our own old brattle-square church.'" to an old business friend and acquaintance, joshua aubin, esq., the agent of the amesbury company, who had from the beginning been associated with him in this first and favorite manufacturing enterprise in which he had engaged, he writes on september , after receiving a quantity of manufactured articles for distribution among the poor: "you are brought very near to me on such a day as this (when i am shut up in the house), by your work as well as by your words. "now, as to your last consignment, i have derived, and expect to derive, as much comfort and enjoyment from it as i ordinarily should from a cash dividend on my shares. in truth, i am able to employ these _odds and ends_ to such uses and for such persons as will make me feel as though i were spared here for some use. "for instance, i had a call from a most respectable friend (president of one of the best colleges in the west) last week, who agreed to come again this week to do some shopping as soon as he got some money for preaching on sunday, and look over my stock of goods. "i intend making him up a good parcel of your work, and, depend on it, it is good seed, and will take root at the west. he says that they have no money, but plenty of corn, and beef, and pork. corn pays for growing at ten cents a bushel, and will not bring that in cash; and ten bushels will not pay for a calico gown, or a flannel petticoat. "with his large family of children, don't you think these _odds and ends_ will come as a blessing? besides, he is an old-fashioned massachusetts whig; loves the old bay state as well as ever the jews loved their state, and is, through his college exercising an influence in ---- that no body of men in that state can do; and will, in the end, bring them into regular line, as to education and elevation of character. send me some of your flannels to give to madam ---- for her family of one or two hundred children in the children's friend society. "---- will give them over to these poor little destitute, unclad creatures. they are taken and saved by this interesting society. "a rainy day like this is the very time for me to work among my household goods. many a poor minister and his family, and many a needy student at school or college, fare the better for your spinning and weaving. "i am living in my chamber, and on very close allowance. every day to me is a day of glorious anticipations, if i am free from bodily suffering, and if my mind is free." on another occasion he writes to the same gentleman: "i have your letter and package; the cold of this morning will make the articles doubly acceptable to the shivering and sick poor among us. j. c.'s case is one for sympathy and relief. engage to supply him a hundred dollars, which i will hand to you when you visit me; and tell the poor fellow to keep in good heart, for our merciful father afflicts in love, and thus i trust that this will prove a stepping-stone to the mansions of bliss. i shall never cease to remember with interest the veterans of the a. f. co. how are my friends b. and others of early days? also, how is old father f.? does he need my warm outside coat, when i get supplied with a better? "after your call upon me a few weeks since, i went back in memory to scenes of olden times, which had an interest that you can sympathize in, and which i intended to express to you before this; but i have had one of those admonitory ill turns since, that kept me under the eye of the doctor for a number of days. "in reviewing my beginnings in manufacturing, under your recommendation and care, almost a quarter of a century ago, i can see the men, the machines, the wheel-pit, and the speed-gauge, and especially i can see our old friend w. lying on the bottom of the pit, lamp in hand, with his best coat on, eying the wheels and cogs as an astronomer makes observations in an observatory. all these scenes are as fresh in my memory as though seen but yesterday. "do you remember c. b., the brother of j. and g. b.? all three of whom were business men here at the time you were, and all were unfortunate. c. tried his; hand in ----, and did not succeed there; returned to this country, and settled on a tract of land in ----, where he has been hard at work for ten years, and has maintained his family. his wife died a few months since. one after another of his family sickened, and he became somewhat straitened, and knew not what to do. he wrote to an old business friend, who was his debtor, and who had failed, had paid a part only, and was discharged thirty years ago, and who has since been prosperous. he stated his case, and asked me to say a good word for him. that person sent one half, and i sent the other half, the day before thanksgiving. it will reach him on monday next, and will make his eyes glisten with joy. "remember me to capt. ---- and j. c, and b., and any other of the veterans." sept. , mr. lawrence receives from an old debtor, once a clerk in his establishment, a check for five hundred dollars, which a sense of justice had induced him to send, though the debt of some thousands had been long since legally discharged. on receiving it, he writes, in a memorandum at the bottom of the letter received, to his brother and partner: "dear abbott: i have the money. j. d. was always a person of truth. i take the statement as true; but i had no recollection of the thing till recalled by his statement. what say you to putting this money into the life office, in trust for his sister? your affectionate brother, amos." "memorandum. _november ._--done, and policy sent to the sister." there are but few men, distinguished in public or private life, who are burdened with an undue amount of praise from their contemporaries; and yet this was the case with mr. lawrence, who was often chagrined, after some deed of charity, or some written expression of sympathy, to see it emblazoned, with superadded colors, in the public prints. some one had enclosed to him a newspaper from another city, which contained a most labored and flattering notice of the kind referred to, to which he writes the following reply: "september, . "dear ----: i received the paper last evening, and have read and re-read it with deep interest and attention. however true it may he, it is not calculated to promote the ultimate good of any of us; for we are all inclined to think full well enough of ourselves; and such puffs should be left for our obituaries. truth is not always to be pushed forward; and its advocates may sometimes retard it by injudicious urging. such is the danger in the present case. the writer appears to be a young man who has received favors, and is laboring to repay them or secure more. he has told the truth; but, as i before said, neither you nor i, nor any one of our families, are improved or benefited in any degree by it. god grant us to be humble, diligent, and faithful to the end of our journey, that we may then receive his approval, and be placed among the good of all nations and times!" on the th. of october, mrs. appleton, his sister-in-law, and widow of the rev. jesse appleton, d.d., formerly president of bowdoin college, died at his house, after a lingering illness. in a letter to his son, after describing her character and peaceful death, he says: "with such a life and such hopes, who can view the change as any other than putting away the fugitive and restless pleasures of an hour for the quiet and fixed enjoyments of eternity? let us, then, my dear children, not look upon the separation of a few short years as a calamity to be dreaded, should we not meet here again in any other way than as we now meet. while i am here, every joy and enjoyment you experience, and give us an account of, is not less so to us than if we were with you to partake, as we have done of all such heretofore; and, in this source of enjoyment, few people have such ample stores. three families of children and grandchildren within my daily walk,--is not this enough for any man? and here i would impress upon my grandsons the importance of looking carefully to their steps. the difference between going just right and a little wrong in the commencement of the journey of life, is the difference between their finding a happy home or a miserable slough at the end of the journey. teach them to avoid tobacco and intoxicating drink, and all temptations that can lead them into evil, as it is easier to prevent than to remedy a fault. 'an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.' i was going on to say that, according to my estimate of men and things, i would not change conditions with louis philippe if i could by a wish, rich as he is in the matter of good children. i have a great liking for him, and a sincere respect for his family, as they are reported to me; but i trust that mine will not be tried by the temptations of great worldly grandeur, but that they will be found faithful stewards of the talents intrusted to them. bring up your boys to do their work first, and enjoy their play afterwards. begin early to teach them habits of order, a proper economy, and exact accountability in their affairs. this simple rule of making a child, after he is twelve years old, keep an exact account of all that he wears, uses, or expends, in any and every way, would save more suffering to families than can fairly be estimated by those who have not observed its operation. "and now, to change the subject," he writes nov. , "we have got through the elections, and are humbled as americans. the questions affecting our local labor, produce, and pecuniary interests, are of small moment, compared with that of annexing texas to this union. i wrote a brief note yesterday to our friend chapman, late mayor of the city, and a member of the whig committee, which speaks the language of my heart. it was as follows: "'my dear sir: the result of the election in massachusetts is matter of devout and grateful feelings to every good citizen, and, so far as pride is allowable, is a subject of pride to every citizen, whatever his politics; for, wherever he goes, and carries the evidence of belonging to the old bay state, he may be sure of the respect of all parties. this glorious result has not been wrought "without works;" and for it we, the people, are greatly indebted to your committee. so far as may be needed, i trust you will find no backwardness on our part in putting matters right. i bless god for sparing my life to this time; and i humbly beseech him to crown your labors with success in future. if texas can be kept off, there will be hope for our government. all other questions are insignificant in comparison with this. the damning sin of adding it to this nation to extend slavery will be as certain to destroy us as death is to overtake us. the false step, once taken, cannot be retraced, and will be to the people who occupy what rum is to the toper. it eats up and uproots the very foundation on which christian nations are based, and will make us the scorn of all christendom. let us work, then, in a christian spirit, as we would for our individual salvation, to prevent this sad calamity befalling us.'" chapter xxii. death of his daughter.--letters.--donation to williams college.--beneficence.--letters. on the th of november, mr. lawrence addressed to his son a most joyous letter, announcing the birth of twin-grand daughters, and the comfortable health of his daughter, the wife of the rev. charles mason, rector of st. peter's church, at salem, massachusetts. the letter is filled with the most devout expressions of gratitude at the event, and cheering anticipations for the future, and yet with some feelings of uneasiness lest the strength of his daughter should not be sufficient to sustain her in these trying circumstances. he adds: "why, then, should i worry myself, about what i cannot help, and practically distrust that goodness that sustains and cheers and enlivens my days?" the fears expressed were too soon and sadly realized; the powers of her constitution had been too severely taxed, nature gave way, and, four days afterwards, she ceased to live. mr. lawrence announced the death of this cherished and only daughter in the following letter: "boston, december , . "my dear son: the joyous event i mentioned of s.'s twins has in it sad memorials of the uncertainty of all joys, excepting those arising from the happiness of friends whose journey is ended, and whose joys are commencing. long life does not consist in many years, but in the use of the years allowed us; so that many a man who has seen his four-score has, for all the purposes of life, not lived at all. and, again, others, who have impressed distinct marks, and have been called away before twenty-eight years have passed over them, may have lived long lives, and have been objects of grateful interest to multitudes who hardly spoke to them while living. such has been the case with our hearts' love and desire, susan mason. the giving birth to those two babes, either of whom would have been her pride and delight, was more than she could recruit from. the exhaustion and faintness at the time were great, but not alarming; and the joy of our hearts for a season seemed unmixed. after three days, the alarm for her safety had taken stronger hold of her other friends than of myself; and, at the time i wrote you last, i felt strong confidence in her recovery. on sunday evening, at seven o'clock, a great change came over her, that precluded all hope, and she was told by c. how it was. she seemed prepared for it, was clear in her mind, and, with what little strength she had, sent messages of love. 'give love to my father, and tell him i hope we shall meet in heaven,' was her graphic and characteristic message; and then she desired c. to lead and guide her thoughts in prayer, which he continued to do for as many as six times, until within the last half-hour of her life. at three o'clock on monday morning, the d instant, her pure spirit passed out of its earthly tenement to its heavenly home, where our father has called her to be secured from the trials and pains and exposures to which she was here liable. it is a merciful father, who knows better than we do what is for our good. what is now mysterious will be made plain at the right time; for 'he doeth all things well.' shall we, then, my dear children, doubt him in this? surely not. s. was ripe for heaven, and, as a good scholar, has passed on in advance of her beloved ones; but beckons us on, to be reünited, and become joint heirs with her of those treasures provided for those who are found worthy. we are now to think of her as on the other side of jordan, before the same altar that we worship at, without any of the alloy that mixes in ours; she praising, and we praying, and all hoping an interest in the beloved that shall make all things seem less than nothing in comparison with this. we have had the sympathy of friends; and the circumstances have brought to light new friends, that make us feel our work here is not done. i feel called two ways at once: s. beckoning me to come up; the little ones appealing to the inmost recesses of my heart to stay, and lead them, with an old grandfather's fondest, strongest, tenderest emotions, as the embodiment of my child. her remains are placed at the head of her mother's; and those two young mothers, thus placed, will speak to their kindred with an eloquence that words cannot. i try to say, in these renewed tokens of a father's discipline, 'thy will be done,' and to look more carefully after my tendency to have some idol growing upon me that is inconsistent with that first place _he_ requires; and i further try to keep in mind, that, if i loved s. much, _he_ loved her more, and has provided against the changes she was exposed to under the best care i could render. let us praise god for her long life in a few years, and profit by the example she has left. the people of her own church are deeply afflicted, and not until her death were any of us aware of the strong hold she had upon them. some touching incidents have occurred, which are a better monument to her memory than any marble that can be reared. * * * * "this morning opens most splendidly, and beautifully illustrates, in the appearance of the sky, that glorious eternity so much cherished in the mind of the believer. "with sincerest affection, your father, a. l." "tremont-street, tuesday morning. "dear partners: the weather is such as to keep me housed to-day, and it is important to me to have something to think of beside myself. the sense of loss will press upon me more than i desire it, without the other side of the account. all is ordered in wisdom and in mercy; and we pay a poor tribute to our father and best friend in distrusting him. i do most sincerely hope that i may say, from the heart, 'thy will be done.' please send me a thousand dollars by g., in small bills, thus enabling me to fill up the time to some practical purpose. it is a painful thought to me that i shall see my beloved daughter no more on earth; but it is a happy one to think of joining her in heaven. yours, ever, a. l. "a. & a. lawrence & co." on the last day of , a date now to be remembered by his friends as that on which his own departure took place, eight years later, he writes to his children in france: "this last day of the year seems to have in it such tokens and emblems as are calculated to comfort and encourage the youthful pilgrim, just in his vigor, not less than the old one, near the end of his journey; for the sun in the heavens, the hills in the west, and the ocean on the east, all speak, in tones not to be mistaken, 'be of good courage,' 'work while it is day,' and receive, without murmuring, the discipline a father applies; for he knows what is best for his children. whether he plants thorns in the path, or afflicts them in any way, he does all for their good. thus, my dear children, are we to view the removal of our beloved s. this year had been one of unusual prosperity and enjoyment, from the first day to the present month; and all seemed so lovely here that there was danger of our feeling too much reliance on these temporals. the gem in the centre has been removed, to show us the tenure by which we held the others." at the opening of the year , mr. lawrence, after noting in his property-book the usual annual details, makes the following reflections: "the business of the past year has been eminently successful, and the increased value of many of the investments large. in view of these trusts, how shall we appear when the master calls? i would earnestly strive to keep constantly in mind the fact that he _will_ call, and that speedily, upon each and all of us; and that, when he calls, the question will be, how have you used these? not how much have you hoarded?" with the new year, he set himself at work with renewed zeal to carry into effect his good resolutions. one of the first results was a donation of ten thousand dollars to williams college, which he enters upon his book with the following memorandum: "i am so well satisfied with the appropriations heretofore made for the advancement and improvement of williams college that i desire to make further investment in the same, to the amount of ten thousand dollars. in case any new professorship is established in the college, i should be gratified to have it called the hopkins professorship, entertaining, as i do, the most entire confidence and respect for its distinguished president." nearly every day, at this period, bears some record of his charities; and among others was a considerable donation to a baptist college, in another state, enclosed to a baptist clergyman in boston, with a check of fifty dollars for himself, to enable him to take a journey for recruiting his health and strength, of which he was much in need. soon after mr. lawrence's death, an article appeared in an influential religious publication giving an estimate of the amount of his charities, and also stating that his pocket-book had written upon it a text of scripture, calculated to remind him of his duties in the distribution of his wealth. the text was said to be, "what shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?" after making diligent search, the editor of this volume, rather to correct the statement in regard to the amount of his charities than for any other object, contradicted the assertion, and also expressed the opinion that mr. lawrence needed no such memorial as this to remind him of his duties; for the law of charity was too deeply graven on his heart to require the insertion of the text in the manner described. some time afterward, an old pocket-book was found, which had not probably been in use for many years, but which contained the text alluded to, inscribed in ink, though faded from the lapse of time and constant use. it may have been useful to him in early years, before he engaged systematically in the work of charity; but, during the latter years of his life, if we can judge from his writings, as well as from his daily actions, his sense of accountability was extreme, if there can be an extreme in the zealous performance of one's duty in this respect. if the class of politicians alluded to in the following extract could have foreseen the course of events with the same sagacity, it might have saved them from much uncertainty, and have been of service in their career: "we are in a poor way, politically, in this country. this practice of taking up demagogues for high office is no way to perpetuate liberty. the new party of native americans is likely to go forward, and will break up the whig party, and where it will stop is to be learned." "_march ._--spring opens upon us this morning with a frowning face; the whole heaven is veiled, and the horizon dark and lowering." "_may ._--my venerated mother finished her earthly course last friday, with the setting sun, which was emblematic of her end. she was such a woman as i am thankful to have descended from. many interesting circumstances connected with her life, before and after her marriage (in july, ), are worth recording. she was in her ninetieth year." (to his son.) "april "i began a record yesterday morning, referring to my position and duties thirty-eight years ago, when i left my father's house (one week after i was free), with less than twenty dollars in my possession. i came an unknown and unfriended young man, but feeling richer the morning after i came than i have ever felt since; so that i gave the man who came with me, in my father's chaise, a couple of dollars to save him from any expense, and insure him against loss, by his spending two days on the journey, for which he was glad of an excuse. had he been as industrious and temperate and frugal, he would have left his wife and children independent, instead of leaving them poor and dependent. these contrasts, and the duties they impose, have pressed heavily upon my strength for a few days past; and, in endeavoring to place in a clear view my hopes and wishes, i became pressed down, and, since yesterday, have been upon my abstinence remedy. my wish has been to do a good work for our athenæum and our institution for savings, by making it the interest of the savings institution to sell their building to the athenæum, so that a handsome and convenient building may be erected while we are about it. to this end, i have offered to supply the beautiful temple built for the washington bank, rent free, for one year, or a longer period to the end of time, while used as a savings bank; intending, by this, to express to those who deposit their money there that i feel deeply interested in their welfare, and would earnestly impress upon them the importance of saving, and, when they become rich, of spending for the good of their fellow-mortals the surplus which a bountiful father in heaven allows them to acquire. this surplus with me, at the present time, will be sufficient to allow me to speak with earnestness, sincerity, and power, to the tens of thousands of industrious _thomases_ and _marthas_,[ ] as well as to the young mechanics, or the youngsters who have had little sums deposited for their education. all these characters appreciate a kind act as fully as those who move in a different sphere in the world. " p. m.--i have just learned that there is some difficulty not easily overcome in this removal of the bank; and, after all, nothing may come out of my offer. if not, i shall have more spare means for something else." [ ] names of two faithful domestics. the value of the building thus offered was about twenty thousand dollars. owing to the difficulties alluded to in the preceding letter, the offer was declined, though the motive for the act was fully appreciated. (to a friend.) "my dear friend: i have this moment learned the death of your dear boy j. l., and am with you in spirit in this trying scene. our father adapts his discipline to our needs; and in this (although to our weak perception it may seem harsh discipline) he has a father's love and care of and for you; and the time will come when all will be made clear to you. in this trust and confidence, i hope both your dear wife and self will be able to say from the heart, 'thy will be done.' our business in this world is to prepare for another; and, if we act wisely, we shall view aright the calls upon us to make this world our great object, by attaining its honors, its houses, its lands, its praises for generosity, disinterestedness, and divers other things that pass well among men. where we hope to be welcomed, temptations are not needed. we pray, therefore, to be accepted, through the beloved, and so make all things work together to help us safely through our course. yours ever, a. l." to the agent of a manufactory in which he was largely interested he writes: "we must make a good thing out of this establishment, unless you ruin us by working on sundays. nothing but works of necessity should be done in holy time; and i am a firm believer in the doctrine that a blessing will more surely follow those exertions which are made with reference to our religious obligations, than upon those made without such reference. the more you can impress your people with a sense of religious obligation, the better they will serve you." chapter xxiii. letter from dr. sharp.--illness and death of son.--letters.--afflictions. the rev. dr. sharp, of the baptist denomination, who has been previously alluded to as a valued friend of mr. lawrence, had made a visit to england, the land of his birth, after an absence of forty years, and thus addresses him from leeds, july : "i esteem it one of the happy events of my life that i have been made personally acquainted with you. not certainly because of your kind benefactions to me and mine, but because i have enjoyed your conversation, and have been delighted with those manifestations of principle and conduct, which, let them grow under what christian culture they may, i know how to honor, to knowledge, and to love." the same gentleman writes, shortly afterwards: "i thank you for the kind manner in which you express yourself in regard to my occasional sermons. i never had any taste for controversy, nor for theological speculation; although, as a christian watchman, i have kept myself informed of the religious opinions that have been, and that are. i thank you, as does my dear wife, for your thoughtful concern of the sacred spot so dear both to my recollections and hopes. there, when life's journey is ended, i hope to rest by the side of those whose company and unfailing affection have gladdened so many of my years; and it has given me a subdued pleasure, when i have thought that my own bed of death would be so near that of the kind and gentle-hearted friend who provided me with mine. may all who shall repose near that interesting spot be imbued with a pure and loving christian spirit, that, when the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall arise, we may all rise together in glorious forms, to be forever with the lord!" (to one of his partners.) "tremont-street, september , . "dear mr. parker: i am buoyant and afloat again, and able to enjoy the good things you are so liberal in providing. the widow's box of ointment was broken before its value was learned. the sermon is significant and practical. i would be thankful to improve under its teaching. will you send me two thousand dollars this morning in mr. sharp's clean money? thus allowing me the opportunity of expressing my gratitude to a merciful father above, that he still permits me to administer the good things he has intrusted to me. dear r. had a quiet night, although he did not sleep much during the first part. this experience is, indeed, the most trying; but i hope to be able to say truly, 'thy will be done.' your friend, "a. l. "c. h. parker, esq." the trying experience alluded to was the serious illness of his youngest son, robert, then a member of harvard college. he had for some time been troubled by a cough, which had now become alarming, and excited the worst apprehensions of his friends. in relation to this sickness, he writes several letters to his son, from which the following extracts are made: "october "we are in great anguish of spirit on account of dear r. we are getting reconciled to parting with the dear child, and to feel that he has done for us what any parents might feel thankful for, by living a good life, and in nineteen years giving us no cause to wish any one of them blotted out. if now called away, he will have lived a long life in a few years, and will be spared the trials and sufferings that flesh is heir to, and will be gathered like early fruit, before the blight or frost or mildew has marked it." "october . "r. remains gradually failing with consumption, but without much suffering, and perfectly aware of his situation. he never appeared so lovely as he has on his sick bed; so that his happy spirit and resignation, without a complaint or a wish that anything had been done differently, keep us as happy as we can be under such a weight of apprehension that we may so soon part with him. he asked me yesterday what i should write to you about him. i told him i should say that he was very sick, and might never be any better; but that he might also be better if the great physician saw best, as it is only for him to speak, and the disease would be cured. if he were taken before me, i told him, it would be, i hoped, to welcome me to the company of the loved ones of our kindred and friends who have gone before, and to the society of angels and just men made perfect, who compose the great congregation that are gathered there from all the world, that god's love, through christ, has redeemed. god so loved the world that he gave his only-begotten son to redeem it from sin; and his teachings should not be lost on us, while we have power to profit by them. in this spirit, we talked of the good men whose writings have an influence in helping on this good work; and especially we talked of dr. doddridge, and his 'rise and progress.' "p. m.--i have been with m. to brookline since writing the above. the falling leaves teach a beautiful lesson. the green leaf, the rose, the cypress, now enclosed to you, and all from your grounds, are instructive. these were cut within the last two hours." "november . "dear r. had a trying day yesterday, and we thought might not continue through the night. he is still alive, and may continue some time; was conscious and clear in his mind after he revived yesterday; feels ready and willing and hoping to be with his saviour." "november . "we toil for treasure through our years of active labor, and, when acquired, are anxious to have it well secured against the time when we or our children may have need of it; and we feel entire confidence in this security. we allow the common flurries of the world to pass by without disturbing our quiet or comfort essentially. what treasure of a temporal character is comparable with a child who is everything a christian parent could desire, and who is just coming into mature life universally respected and beloved, and who is taken before any cloud or spot has touched him, and who has left bright and clear marks upon those who have come within his sphere of influence? such was r. the green earth of mount auburn covers his mortal remains; the heavens above have his immortal; he was a ripe child of god, and i therefore feel that blessed assurance of entire security which adds another charm to that blessed company to which i hope, through mercy, to be admitted in our father's own good time. this early death of our beloved youngest comes upon us as an additional lesson, necessary, without doubt, to prepare us for our last summons; and the reasons which now seem mysterious will be fully understood, and will show us that our good required this safe keeping of this treasure, so liable to be made our idol. r. had passed the dangerous period of his college life without blemish, and was only absent from prayers three times (which were for good cause), and had a settled purpose, from the beginning of his college life, so to conduct in all respects as to give his parents no cause for anxiety; and, for the last year, i have felt perfectly easy in regard to him. we have visited his grave to-day. the teachings there are such as speak to the heart with an eloquence that language cannot. dear s. and r.! she the only daughter, he the only son of his mother! and both placed there since you left!" "november . "president h., in a letter a few days before i wrote to you, had this sentiment: 'the old oak, shorn of its green branches, is more liable to decay.' applying this to the old oak fronting the graves of those loved ones who have passed on, the outspread branches of which make the spot more lovely, i was more deeply impressed than mere words could have impressed me. a few months after the death of s., a violent storm tore off a main limb of the old oak about midway between the ground and the top, in such way as to mar its beauty, and endanger its life. the limb fell upon the graves, but avoided the injury to the monuments which might have been expected. since then, i noticed that some of the lower limbs cast a sort of blight or mildew upon the pure white of your mother's monument, and they required dressing. i desired the 'master' to do this, and also to come and heal the wound occasioned by the loss of this main limb on that side of the tree. the trimming out was done at once; the other was left undone until the request was renewed. on my visit there last week, i discovered, for the first time, that the wound had been healed, and the body of the tree appeared smooth, and of its natural color, and its health such as to give good hope that its other branches will spread out their shade more copiously than before. what a lesson was here! the appeal was to the heart; and, in my whole life, i remember none more eloquent. to-day i have been to mount auburn again; and the spot seems to be none other than the gate of heaven.'" "december . "twenty-five years ago this morning, i came home from plymouth, where i had spent the night previous, and heard webster's great address. he has never done anything to surpass it; and it now is a model and a text for the youth of our country. the people who then were present are principally taken hence; and the consideration of how the time allowed has been spent, and how it now fares with us, is of deep interest. god in mercy grant us to act our part so as to meet his approval, when called to answer for the trust in our hands! i have thought of the emblem of the 'old oak,' till it has assumed a beauty almost beyond anything in nature; and, if i live to see the fresh leaves of spring spreading their covering over the head of the stranger or the friend who may stop under its shade, i will have a sketch of the spot painted, if the right person can be found. there is in the spot and scene a touching eloquence that language can scarcely communicate. the dear child's expressive look, and motion of his finger, when he said 'i am going up,' will abide with me while i live. the dealings of a father with me have been marked, but ofttimes mysterious for a season. now many things are clear; and all others will be, i trust, when i am fitted to know them." (to his grandson.) "boston, december , . "my dear f.: your charming letter of th november reached me by last steamer, and showed, in a practical way, how important the lessons of childhood are to the proper performance of the duties of manhood. it carried me back to the time when my own mother taught me, and, from that period, forward through the early lessons inculcated upon your father, and especially to the time when he began to write me letters, which i always encouraged him in, and thus formed a habit which has been the best security for our home affections that can be devised when separated from those most dear to us. if the prayers and labors of your ancestors are answered by your good progress and good conduct in the use of the privileges you enjoy, you will come forth a better and more useful man than any of the generations preceding; for you enjoy advantages that none of us have enjoyed. my heart beats quicker and stronger whenever i think of you; and my prayers ascend for you at all hours, and through every scene connecting us. last saturday, i had the first sleigh-ride of the season. the day was beautiful; and there was just snow enough to make the sleigh run smoothly. i visited mount auburn; and the day and place, the 'old oak' standing in front of our graves leafless and apparently almost lifeless, spoke to me a language as intelligible as if utterance had been given in sounds. i thought of you, dear f., as my eldest grandson, and in a manner the representative of the family to future times, and asked myself whether i was doing all i ought to make you feel the force of your trusts. there lie the mortal parts of your dear aunt and uncle, both placed there since you left home; and the spirits of both, i trust, are now rejoicing with the multitude of the beloved ones, whose work here is well done, and whom the saviour has bid to 'come unto him,' and through whom they hoped to be accepted. dear r. seems to call to us to 'come up;' and, whether i ever see you again or not, i pray you never to forget that he was such an uncle as you might well feel anxious to copy in your conduct to your parents; for he had a settled principle to do nothing to cause his parents anxiety. so, if you see your young companions indulging in any evil practices which may lead to bad habits, avoid them; for prevention is better than remedy. when you stand near the 'old oak,' whether its branches are green with shady leaves, or dry from natural decay, let it speak to your conscience, 'come up,' and receive the reward promised to the faithful. "ever your affectionate grandfather, a. l." the year closed with many sad recollections; and nearly every letter written at this period dwells upon the mournful events which had marked its course. in one letter, he says, "death has cut right and left in my family." in a little more than twelve months, ten of his own immediate family and near connections were removed, and most of them when least expected. although bowed down, and penetrated with grief at each successive blow, there was a deep-seated principle in mr. lawrence's heart, which made him rise above them all, and receive each call in that spirit of submission which the christian faith alone can give. his own sorrows seemed only to augment his sympathy for the woes of others, and to excite him to renewed efforts in the great cause of charity and truth, to which he had consecrated every talent he possessed. in this spirit he makes an entry in his memorandum-book on the first day of the opening year. chapter xxiv. expenditures.--letters.--donation for library at williams college.--views on study of anatomy. "_january , ._--the business of the past year has been very prosperous in our country; and my own duties seem more clearly pointed out than ever before. what am i left here for, and the young branches taken home? is it not to teach me the danger of being unfaithful to my trusts? dear r. taken! the delight of my eyes, a treasure secured! which explains better than in any other way what my father sees me in need of. i hope to be faithful in applying some of my trusts to the uses god manifestly explains to me by his dealings. i repeat, 'thy will be done.'" that his trusts, so far as the use of his property was concerned, were faithfully performed, may be inferred from the fact that, in july, or at the termination of the half-year, in making up his estimate of income and expenditures, he remarks that the latter are nearly twenty thousand dollars in advance of the former. mr. lawrence was often much disturbed by the publicity which attended his benevolent operations. there are, perhaps, thousands of the recipients of his favors now living, who alone are cognizant of his bounty towards themselves; but when a public institution became the subject of his liberality, the name of the donor could not so easily be concealed. the following letter will illustrate the mode which he sometimes was obliged to adopt to avoid that publicity; and it was his custom not unfrequently to contribute liberally to objects of charity through some person on whom he wished the credit of the donation to fall. (to president hopkins.) "boston, jan. , . "my dear friend: since saturday, i have thought much of the best mode of helping your college to a library building without getting into the newspapers, and have concluded that you had better assume the responsibility of building it; and, if anybody objects that you can't afford it, you may say you have friends whom you hope to have aid from; and i will be responsible to you for the cost to an amount not exceeding five thousand dollars; so that you may feel at liberty to prepare such a building as you will be satisfied with, and which will do credit to your taste and judgment fifty years hence. if i am taken before this is finished, which must be this year, my estate will be answerable, as i have made an entry in my book, stating the case. i had written a longer story, after you left me, on saturday evening, but have laid it aside to hand you this, with best wishes, and that all may be done 'decently and in order.' i will pay a thousand or two dollars whenever it is wanted for the work. "your friend, a. l." mr. lawrence had read in the newspapers the memorial to congress of mrs. martha gray, widow of captain robert gray, the well-known navigator, who discovered, first entered, and gave its present name to the columbia river. captain gray had been in the naval service of his country; and his widow, who had survived him for forty years, amidst many difficulties and struggles for support, petitioned for a pension, in consideration of the important discovery, and for the services rendered by her husband. mr. lawrence sent to mrs. gray a memorial of his regard, with the following note: "as a token of respect to the widow of one whose name and fame make a part of the property of every american who has a true heart, will mrs. gray accept the accompanying trifle from one, who, though personally unknown, felt her memorial to congress through every nerve, and will hope to be allowed the pleasure of paying his respects in person when his health permits." about the same date, he says to president hopkins: "i am happily employed, these days, in administering upon my own earnings, and have hope of hearing soon from you and your good work. i am still on my good behavior, but have been able to chat a little with mr. d., and administer to his excellency governor briggs, who has had a severe trial of fever and ague. on saturday he rode an hour with me, and returned with his face shortened considerably. i can only say to you that i believe i am left here to do something more to improve and help on the brethren and sons who have more mind and less money than i have; but the precise way to do it is not so clear to me as it may be by and by." after receiving the proposed plan of the library which he had authorized to be built at williams college, mr. lawrence writes to the same, on may : "i left off, after a brief note to you, three hours since, furnishing you a text on epicureanism to preach from, which i trust will find favor and use. "what think you? why, that i am interfering in your business. when i awoke this morning, thinks i to myself, my friend won't have elbow-room in the centre of his octagon; and, as there is plenty of land to build upon, he may as well make his outside to outside fifty feet as forty-four feet, and thus give himself more space in the centre. the alcoves appear to me to be very nice; and, in the matter of expense, my young friend a. l. h. will see to that, to the tune of one or two thousand dollars. so you may feel yourself his representative in acting in this matter." * * * * * "_april ._--my birth-day! three-score years old! my life, hanging by a thread for years, and apparently, at times, within a few hours of its close, still continued, while so many around in the prime of life and vigor have been called away!" (to a friend.) "tremont-street, april, . "my friend ----: i have arisen after my siesta, and, as the quakers say, am moved by the spirit to speak. so you will give what i have to say the value you consider it worth. and, in the first place, i will say, that this period of the year is so full of deeply-interesting memories of the past, that i hardly know where to begin. from my earliest days, the story of the intelligence reaching groton at ten o'clock on the th april, , that the british were coming, was a most interesting one. my father mounted gen. prescott's horse, and rode, at a speed which young men even of the present day would think rapid, to the south end of the town, by sandy pond, and notified the minute-men to assemble at the centre of the town forthwith. he made a range of seven miles, calling on all the men, and was back at his father's house in forty minutes. at one o'clock, p. m., the company was in readiness to march, and under way to concord to meet the british. they kept on until they reached cambridge; but, before that, they had seen and heard all that had been done by the troops sent out to concord. the plough was left in the field; and my grandfather, with his horse and wagon, brought provisions to his neighbors and his son shortly after. my grandmother on my mother's side, then living in concord, has described to me over and over again the appearance of the british, as she first saw them coming over the bill from lincoln, about two miles from the centre of concord; the sun just rising; and the red coats, glittering muskets, and fearful array, so captivating to us in peace-times, appearing to her as the angel of destruction, to be loathed and hated. she therefore left her house with her children (the house was standing within the last thirty years, and may be now, near the turn to go through bedford, half a mile or more this side of concord meeting-house), and went through the fields, and over the hills, to a safe place of retreat. the british, you are aware, on their retreat, had a hard time of it. they were shot down like wild game, and left by the wayside to die or be taken up as it might happen. three thus left within gun-shot of my grandmother's house were taken up, and died in the course of a very few hours. but what i am coming to is this: lord percy, you know, was sent out from boston with a strong body of troops to protect those first sent out; and, but for this, the whole would have been destroyed or made prisoners. about three years ago, lord prudhoe, second son of lord percy, was here; and i had considerable delightful intercourse with him. he, as you may well suppose, was deeply interested in all that related to his father; and i met him in the library at cambridge, where he was very observant of the order and arrangement, and especially of the curious old documents and books, so nicely arranged, touching the early history of the province. after leaving cambridge, he went to mr. cushing's and mr. pratt's, at watertown, and was much interested in all that we in this city are proud of. i had not strength to be devoted to him more than an hour or two at a time, having then some other strangers under my care, belonging to gov. colebrooke's family, lady colebrooke being a niece of major andré; so that i had only some half-dozen interviews with him, all of which were instructive and interesting." the dissection of human bodies by medical students has always been a subject of deep-rooted prejudice in new england; and, even to this day, it exists in so great a degree that the facilities for this important and absolutely essential branch of instruction are not nearly as great as they should be, nor such as are afforded in the schools of other countries. when these difficulties shall be removed, and the prejudice allayed against the acquisition of a kind of knowledge which it is of the utmost interest to every one that the surgeon and physician shall receive, many young men will remain at home, and acquire that education which, with few exceptions, might be attained here as well as by a resort to foreign schools. in this prejudice mr. lawrence could not sympathize, as will be seen in the following extract of a letter to a friend * * * * * "many years ago, there was a great stir, on account of graves being robbed for subjects for dissection, and some laws were passed: the want became so pressing, that subjects were brought from a long distance, and in a very bad state. dr. warren was attending me, and said he had invited the legislature, then in session, to attend a lecture in the medical college. he told me he intended to explain the necessity of having fit subjects, he having been poisoned in his lecture to his students a few days before, and was then suffering from it. he invited me also to attend, which i did, and took with me my precious boy r. while lecturing, the doctor had a man's hand, which he had just taken off at the hospital, brought in, nicely wrapped up in a wet cloth, by his son j. m. w., then a youngster. there were present about two hundred representatives; and, as soon as they saw the real hand, two or three fainted nearly away, and a half-dozen or more made their escape from the room. the scene was so striking, that i told dr. warren it was a pity that such a prejudice should exist; and, as i was desirous to be of use as far as in my power, and probably should be a good subject for him, i would gladly have him use me in the way to instruct the young men; but to take care of my remains, and have them consumed or buried, unless my bones were kept. i also told him that i desired very much to have this false feeling corrected, and perhaps my example might do something toward it. some time afterwards, i spoke to ---- upon the subject; but i found it gave pain, and the plan was given up. * * * a. l." "outward gains are ordinarily attended with inward losses. he indeed is rich in grace whose graces are not hindered by his riches." in a letter, dated june , mr. lawrence bears testimony to the character and services of the late louis dwight, so long and favorably known as the zealous secretary of the massachusetts prison discipline society: "i have this moment had an interview with louis dwight, who leaves for europe in two days. my labors and experience with him for nearly a quarter of a century enable me to testify to his ability, and unceasing efforts in the cause." "_may , ._--the following commentary[ ] on the lectures of the rev. dr. ---- accompanied their return to me from one to whom i had loaned the volume. i have now no recollection who the person is; but the words are full, and to the point: "'this sucking the marrow all out of our bible, and leaving it as dry as a husk, pray what good to man, or honor to god, does that do? if we are going to fling away the old book from which ten thousand thousand men have drawn and are still drawing the life of their souls, then let us stand boldly up, and fling it away, cover and all; unless, indeed, a better way would be to save the boards and gilding, and make a family checker-board of it.'" [ ] supposed to be by hon. jeremiah mason. chapter xxv. donation to lawrence academy.--correspondence with r. g. parker.--sleigh-rides.--letters.--aversion to notoriety.--children's hospital. mr. lawrence had always taken a deep interest in the academy at groton, of which he, with all his brothers and sisters, had been members. the residence of his former master, james brazer, esq., with whom he lived when an apprentice, bordered on the academy grounds. it was a large, square, old-fashioned house, and easily convertible to some useful purpose, whenever the growing prosperity of the institution should require it. he accordingly purchased the estate; and, in july, , presented it to the board of trustees by a deed, with the following preamble: "to all persons to whom these presents shall come, i, amos lawrence, of the city of boston, in the county of suffolk, and commonwealth of massachusetts, esquire, send greeting: "born and educated in groton, in the county of middlesex, in said commonwealth, and deeply interested in the welfare of that town, and especially of the lawrence academy, established in it by my honored father, samuel lawrence, and his worthy associates, and grateful for the benefits which his and their descendants have derived from that institution, i am desirous to promote its future prosperity; trusting that those charged with the care and superintendence of it will ever strive zealously and faithfully to maintain it as a nursery of piety and sound learning." this had been preceded by a donation of two thousand dollars, with smaller gifts, at various dates, of valuable books, a telescope, etc., besides the foundation of several free scholarships. the present prosperity of the academy is, however, mainly due to his brother, william lawrence, who has been by far its greatest benefactor; having, in , made a donation of ten thousand dollars, followed by another, in , of five thousand, and, finally, by will, bequeathed to it the sum of twenty thousand. the following memoranda are copied from mr. lawrence's donation-book: "_august , ._--i have felt a deep interest in groton academy for a long time; and while brother l. was living, and its president, he had it in charge to do what should be best to secure its greatest usefulness, and, while perfecting these plans, he was suddenly taken from this world. since then, i have kept on doing for it; which makes my outlay for the school about twenty thousand dollars. i had prepared ten thousand dollars more, which brother william has assumed, and has taken the school upon himself, to give it such facilities as will make it a very desirable place for young men to enter to get a good preparation for business or college life." in an address[ ] delivered at the jubilee celebration of the lawrence academy, held in groton, july , , the rev. james means, a former preceptor of the institution, thus speaks of the benefactions of the two brothers: "it was my good fortune, after becoming the preceptor, in , to have frequent intercourse with them in this particular regard,--the interests of the school. i shall never forget the impression made upon my mind by the depth of their feeling, and the strength of their attachment. they were both of them men of business; had been trained to business habits, and would not foolishly throw away the funds which god had intrusted to them as stewards. but it seemed to me then, as the event has proved, that they were willing to go as far as they could see their way clear before them to establish this school on a foundation that never should be shaken. "there was a singular difference in the character of these two brothers, and there is a similar difference in the results of their benefactions. i have reason personally to know that they conferred frequently and earnestly respecting the parts which they should severally perform in upbuilding this school. there was an emulation; but there was no selfishness, there was no difference of opinion. both loved the academy, both wished to bless it and make it a blessing; each desired to accommodate the feelings of the other, each was unwilling to interfere with the other, each was ready to do what the other declined. out of more than forty-five thousand dollars provided for the academy by mr. william lawrence, forty thousand still remain in the hands of the trustees for purposes of instruction. of the library mr. amos lawrence says, in one of his letters: 'i trust it will be second to no other in the country except that of cambridge, and that the place will become a favorite resort of students of all ages before another fifty years have passed away. when he presented a cabinet of medals, he writes, 'i present them to the institution in the name of my grandsons, f. w. and a. l., in the hope and expectation of implanting among their early objects of regard this school, so dear to us brothers of the old race, and which was more dear to our honored father, who labored with his hands, and gave from his scanty means, in the beginning, much more in proportion than we are required to do, if we place it at the head of this class of institutions, by furnishing all it can want.'" [ ] see account of jubilee of lawrence academy. at the same celebration, the hon. john p. bigelow, president of the day, in his opening address, said: "charles sprague, so loved and so honored as a man and a poet, was an intimate friend of the lamented william and amos lawrence. i invited him hither to-day. he cannot come, but sends a minstrel's tribute to their memory, from a harp, which, till now, has been silent for many years. 'these, these no marble columns need: their monument is in the deed; a moral pyramid, to stand as long as wisdom lights the land. the granite pillar shall decay, the chisel's beauty pass away; but this shall last, in strength sublime, unshaken through the storms of time.'" on july , mr. lawrence made a considerable donation of books to the johnson school for girls, accompanied by a note to r. g. parker, esq., the principal, from which the following extract is taken: "the sleigh-ride comes to me as though daguerreotyped, and i can hardly realize that i am here to enjoy still further the comfort that i then enjoyed. if the pupils of your school at that time were gratified, i was more than satisfied, and feel myself a debtor to your school of this day; and, in asking you to accept, for the use of the five hundred dear girls who attend upon your instruction, such of the books accompanying as you think proper for them, i only pay a debt which i feel to be justly due. the johnson school is in my own district; and many a time, as i have passed it in my rides, have i enjoyed the appropriate animation and glee they have manifested in their gambols and sports during their intermission, and have felt as though i would gladly be among them to encourage them. say to them, although personally unknown, i have looked on, and felt as though i wanted to put my hand upon their heads, and give them a word of counsel, encouragement, and my blessing. this is what i am left here for; and, when the master calls, if i am only well enough prepared to pass examination, and receive the 'well done' promised to such as are faithful, then i may feel that all things here are less than nothing in comparison to the riches of the future." the allusion to the sleigh-ride was called forth by a note received from mr. parker a day or two before, in which that gentleman writes: "as you have not the credit of a very good memory, so far as your own good actions are concerned, it will be proper that i should remind you that the occasion to which i refer was the time that the pupils of the franklin school were about enjoying a sleigh-ride, from which pleasure a large number were excluded. on that occasion, as you were riding by, you were induced to inquire the reason of the exclusion of so many sad little faces; and, on learning that their inability to contribute to the expense of the excursion would cause them to be left behind, you very generously directed that all should be furnished with seats, and a draft made upon you for the additional expense." to a fondness for children, there seemed to be united in mr. lawrence a constant desire to exert an influence upon the youthful mind; and rarely was the opportunity passed over, when, by a word of advice or encouragement, or the gift of an appropriate book, he thought he could effect his object. his person was well known to the boys and girls who passed him in the streets; and, in the winter season, his large, open sleigh might often be seen filled with his youthful friends, whom he had allowed to crowd in to the utmost capacity of his vehicle. the acquaintances thus made would often, by his invitation, call to see him at his residence, and there would receive a kind notice, joined with such words of encouragement and advice as could not sometimes fail to have a lasting and beneficial influence. "_august ._--'give an account of thy stewardship, for thou mayest be no longer steward.'--luke : . "how ought this to be sounded in our ears! and how ought we to be influenced by the words! surely there can be no double meaning here. the words are emphatic, clear, and of vast concern to every man. let us profit by them while it is day, lest the night overtake us, when we can no longer do the work of the day." on the d of august, mr. lawrence sent a cane to governor briggs, at pittsfield, with the following inscription graven upon it: from the "old oak" of mount auburn: +a memento of loved ones gone before+. amos lawrence to george n. briggs. . the cane was accompanied by the following note: "my dear friend: your letter of monday last came, as all your letters do, just right as a comforter through a feeble week; for i have been confined to the house, and unable to speak above a whisper, most of the time, and am still not allowed to talk or work much. the corresponding week of the last year, when our precious r. was your guest, comes over my mind and heart, at all hours of the night and the day, in a manner i need not attempt to describe to _you_; and it is only distressing when i see the suffering of his dear mother. but we feel that he is now the guest of the supreme governor, whose care and kindness takes from him all that can interrupt his perfect happiness through all time; and this surely ought to satisfy us. the good opinion of good men you know how to value, and can therefore judge how much i prize yours. acting upon the public mind for good as you do, the memorial from the old oak will not be without its use in your instruction and advice to the young, whose special improvement and safety you have so much at heart. the cane is a part of the same branch as that sent to president h., and came to me since noon to-day. accept it with assurances of continued and increased affection and respect. most sincerely yours, "a. l." "_august ._--called at ---- shop, washington-street, and there saw a nice-looking boy seventeen or eighteen years old, named t. s., to whom i gave a word of good counsel and encouragement. shall look after him a little, as i like his manners." "_august ._--a woman writes a figuring letter, calling herself s. m.; says she is sixty years old; has lost her sons, and wants help; came from new hampshire. also, n. t. wants aid to study, or something else. also, a mr. f., with a great share of hair on his face, gold ring, and chains, wants to travel for his health; has a wife and child. those three cases within twenty-four hours are very forbidding." in a letter of advice to a young gentleman who was a stranger to him, but who through a mutual friend had asked his opinion on a matter of business, he writes, on sept. th: "your letter of the th is a flattering token of confidence and respect, that i wish were better merited. such as i am, i am at your service; _but there is nothing of me_. i have been stricken down within a few days, and am hardly able to stand up. a kind father keeps me vigilant by striking without notice, and when least expected; and on some one of these occasions i am to close the account of my stewardship, and no matter when, if the accounts are right. i cannot advise you except in one particular: do with your might what your hands find to do; spend no man's money but your own, and look carefully after little items that tempt you." the notoriety attendant upon acts of beneficence which mr. lawrence instinctively shrunk from, and which so often deters the sensitive from the good acts which, without this penalty, they would gladly perform, was, as has before been stated, a subject of serious annoyance. this is illustrated by the following note, written to mr. parker, the principal of the johnson school for girls: "october , . "i hope to send a few volumes to help forward the young guides of the mind and heart of the sons of new england, wherever they may be; for it is the mothers who act upon their sons more than all others. i hope to be felt as long as i am able, to work, and am quite as vain as i ought to be of my name and fame, but am really afraid i shall wear out my welcome if my little paragraphs are printed so frequently in the newspapers. i gave some books last monday, and saw them acknowledged yesterday in the newspaper, and since have received the letter from the children. now, my dear sir, i merely want to say, that i hope you will not put me in the newspaper at present; and, when my work is done here, if you have anything to say about me that will not hurt my children and grandchildren, _say on_." a few days afterwards, mr. lawrence received a letter from the parties to whom the books above alluded to had been sent, inquiring if he could suggest the name of some benevolent individual, to whom application might be made for aid in furthering the objects of the association. he writes: "in reply to yours of to-day, i know of no one, but must request that my name be not thrust forward, as though i was to be a byword for my vanity. i want to do good, but am sorry to be published, as in the recent case." during the autumn of this year, mr. lawrence purchased the large building in mason-street, which had, for many years, been used as the medical school of harvard college, with the intention of founding a charitable hospital for children. he had heard of the manner in which such institutions were conducted in france, and believed that a great benefit would be conferred on the poorer classes by caring for their sick children when their own poverty or occupations prevented their giving them that attention which could be secured in an institution of this kind. the great object was to secure the confidence of that class, and to overcome their repugnance to giving up their children to the care of others. the plan had not been tried in this country; though in france, where there exists a much larger and more needy population, the system was completely successful. although but an experiment, mr. lawrence considered the results which might be obtained of sufficient magnitude to warrant the large outlays required. he viewed it not only as a mode of relieving sickness and suffering, but as a means of exercising a humanizing effect upon those who should come directly under its influence, as well as upon that class of persons generally for whose benefit it was designed. his heart was ever open to the cry of suffering; and he was equally ready to relieve it, whether it came from native or foreigner, bond or free. the building which had been purchased for the object, from its internal arrangement, and from its too confined position, was found less suitable than another, in the southerly part of the city, where an open view and ample grounds were more appropriate for the purpose; while there was no cause for that prejudice which, it was found, existed toward the project in the situation first thought of. with characteristic liberality, mr. lawrence offered the medical college, now not required, to the boston society of natural history at the cost, with a subscription from himself of five thousand dollars. the offer was accepted. an effort was made by the society to raise by subscription the necessary funds; and the result was their possession of the beautiful building since occupied by their various collections in the different departments of natural history. the large house on washington-street was soon put in complete repair, suitably furnished, provided with physicians and nurses, and opened as the children's infirmary, with accommodations for thirty patients. the following spring was marked by a great degree of mortality and suffering among the emigrant passengers, and consequently the beds were soon occupied by whole families of children, who arrived in the greatest state of destitution and misery. many cases of ship-fever were admitted; so that several of the attendants were attacked by it, and the service became one of considerable danger. many now living in comfort attribute the preservation of their life to the timely succor then furnished; and, had no other benefits followed, the good bestowed during the few weeks of spring would have compensated for the labor and cost. this institution continued in operation for about eighteen months, during which time some hundreds of patients were provided for. the prejudices of parents, which had been foreseen, were found to exist, but disappeared with the benefits received; and the whole experiment proved conclusively that such an institution may be sustained in this community with vast benefit to a large class of the suffering; and it is hoped that it may one day lead to an establishment of the kind on a larger scale, and with a more extensive organization and means of usefulness. in this experiment, it was found, from the limited number of beds, that the cost of each patient was much greater than if four times the number had been provided for, and so large that mr. lawrence decided that the same amount of money could be made to afford relief to much larger numbers of the same class of sufferers applied in some other way. he was a constant visitor at the infirmary, and took a deep interest in many of the patients, whose varied history had been recited to him; and in after years, as he passed through the streets, many an eye would brighten as it caught a glimpse of the kind friend who had whispered words of consolation and hope in the lonely hours of sickness. chapter xxvi. captain a. s. mckenzie.--diary.--aid to ireland.--madam prescott.--sir william colebrooke. (to capt. alexander slidell mckenzie, u. s. n.) "november , . "my dear sir: i was exceedingly gratified by your kind remembrance of me, a few days since, in sending me a copy of your 'life of decatur,' which to its merits as a biography adds the charm of bringing before me my old friend bainbridge, and the writer, whom i have felt a strong interest in ever since reading his 'year in spain;' for my son resided in the same family soon after you left, and made me acquainted with you before i had seen you. i am a 'minute-man' in life, but, while i remain here, shall always be glad to take you by the hand when you visit us. whether we meet here is of less importance than that our work be done, and be said by the master to be well done, when called off. respectfully and faithfully yours, "a. l." "_december ._--thirty-nine years have passed since my first entry in this book; and, in reviewing this period, i have abundant reason to bless god for his great mercies, and especially for continuing us four brothers, engaged as we have been in business, an unbroken band to this day, and for the success attending our labors. we have been blessed more than most men, and have the power, by our right use of these blessings, of benefiting our fellow-men. god grant that the spirits of our parents may be cheered in their heavenly home by our doing the work here that we ought to do! to my descendants i commend this memorial, with the prayer that they may each of them be better than i am." * * * "fifteen years hence, and the chief interest in us will be found in our mount auburn enclosure; and we ought to look well to the comment." as an expression of the feeling here referred to, he purchased a gold box of beautiful workmanship, and forwarded it to his youngest brother, then a resident of lowell, with the following inscription engraven upon it: "behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity!" to samuel lawrence, from his brother amos. "_december ._--rode to-day to the asylum for the blind with major arthur lawrence, of the rifle brigade, british army, and had a very interesting visit. dr. howe very attentive; and laura bridgman and oliver caswell both appeared well." "_december ._--rev. mr. rogers said to-day, 'gold is not the coin of heaven: if it had been, christ would have been rich; but he was a poor man.'" "_january , ._--in july last, i had spent the advance of my income, but am thankful now to be able to state the case differently, being in the receipt of ample means to be a comfort to the needy." from the various entries quoted in his diary, it will be inferred that mr. lawrence's means for charitable distribution varied considerably in amount from year to year. to explain this difference, it may not be amiss to state here, that he had, from the first efforts to establish home manufactures in new england, taken a deep interest in their success, and had consequently invested a large proportion of his property in the various manufacturing corporations which had been built up in lowell and other towns in massachusetts and new hampshire. the great fluctuations in this department of industry are known to every one; for, while the returns of one year would be ample, those of the next year would, from embarrassments in the commercial world, or from some other cause, be little or nothing. "_january ._--t. r. and s. j., two englishmen in the employ of j. c., mended our pump to-day. i gave them some books and a word of counsel, and hope to observe their progress." "_february ._--t. j. called, and is to embark to-morrow, on his way to the war in mexico. he asked me to give him money to buy a pistol, which i declined, as i could not wish them success in mexico; but gave him some books, a bible, and good counsel." during the month of february, an appeal was made to the citizens of boston in behalf of the famished population of ireland, and resulted in the sending to that country a large quantity of food and clothing. mr. lawrence contributed himself towards the object, and, as was often the case, endeavored to interest others equally with himself. on the th of that month, he addressed a note to j. a. stearns, esq., principal of the mather school, at south boston, for the pupils of his school composing the lawrence association. this association, comprising a large number of boys and girls, had been formed for moral and intellectual improvement, and had been named in honor of mr. lawrence, who had, from its commencement, taken a deep interest in its success, and had often contributed books and money when needed. "wednesday, march . "my friends: the value of the offering to suffering ireland from our city will be enhanced by the numbers contributing, as the offering will do more good as an expression of sympathy than as a matter of relief. the spirit of dear r. seems to speak through your 'oak leaf,'[ ] and to say, 'let all who will of the association subscribe a half-dollar each, and all others a quarter each, for their suffering brethren, and children of a common father.' a. l. "p. s.--the purses were presents to me, and must be returned. one of them from the lady of sir john strachan, herself a descendant of one of our boston girls; the two open-work ones from ladies in this city. take from them what is required, and return the balance, if any be left. if more is required, let me know, as i do not know the amount in the purses. "a. l." [ ] a little newspaper published by the association. one hundred and two members of the association, and four hundred and thirty-eight other members of the school, in all five hundred and forty, availed themselves of the privilege thus offered them, and contributed the sum of one hundred and sixty dollars towards the object. at the church in brattle-street, a collection was taken in aid of the same object; and, among other contributions, was a twenty-dollar bank-note, with the following attached to it, probably by mr. lawrence: "a ship of war to carry bread to the hungry and suffering, instead of powder and ball to inflict more suffering on our brethren,--children of the same father,--is as it should be; and this is in aid of the plan." among the most respected and valued friends of mr. lawrence was the venerable madam prescott, widow of the late judge william prescott, and mother of the distinguished historian of "ferdinand and isabella." years seemed rather to quicken her naturally warm sympathies for the distresses of others; and, at the age of more than four-score, she was to be daily seen on foot in the streets, actively engaged upon her errands of mercy. mr. lawrence had, the year before, found a small volume, entitled the "comforts of old age," by sir thomas bernard; and had sent it to several of his friends, principally those in advanced age, asking for some record of their experience. his note to madam prescott on this subject was as follows. "march , . "dear madam prescott: i have been a long time anxious to receive a favor from you, and have felt diffident in asking it; but am now at the required state of resolution. the book i send you is so much in character with your own life, that my grandchildren, who love you, will read to their grandchildren your words, written by your own hand in this book, if you will but place them there. i must beg you, my excellent friend, to believe that i am desirous of securing for my descendants some of your precious encouragements in the discipline of life. "your friend, "amos lawrence." the volume was returned with the following record: "boston, march , . "my dear sir: you ask me what are the comforts of old age. i answer, the retrospection of a well-spent life. the man who devotes himself to the cause of humanity, who clothes the naked, feeds the hungry, soothes the sorrows of the afflicted, and comforts the mourner,--whom each rising sun finds in the contemplation of some good deed, and each night closes with the assurance that it has been performed,--surely such a life must be the comfort of an old age. but where shall we find such a man? may i not be permitted to apply the character to my highly valued and respected friend, whose charities are boundless, and who daily dispenses blessings to all around him? may the enduring oak be emblematical of the continuance of your life! i depend much upon accompanying you to mount auburn, and to visit the spot which contains the precious relics of him whose life it is sweet to contemplate, and whose death has taught us how a christian should die. the perusal of this little volume has increased my veneration and friendship for its owner. "respectfully and affectionately, "c. g. prescott." "mem. _by a. l., may , ._--madam p., now much passed four-score years of age (born august , ), is as bright and active in body and mind as most ladies of fifty." * * * * * "_april ._--mrs. t. called to ask aid for a poor widow, which i declined, by telling her i did not hear or read people's stories from necessity, and i could not inquire this evening. she claims to be acquainted with rev. mr. ---- and rev. mr. ----. she gave me a severe lecture, and berated me soundly." "_april ._--mrs. c., of lowell, asks me to loan her three hundred dollars to furnish a boarding-house for twelve young ladies at s., which i declined by mail this morning." in reply to sir william colebrooke, governor of new brunswick, who requested mr. lawrence to notify certain poor people in the neighborhood of boston that their deposits in the frederickstown savings' bank, which had been previously withheld, would be paid by means of an appropriation for the purpose recently made by the provincial assembly, he writes: "boston, april , . "my dear sir william: your kind letter of the th instant reached me on the th, and is most welcome and grateful, in making me the medium of so much solid comfort to the numerous people whose earnings are thus restored to them through your unceasing and faithful labors. may god reward you, and enable you to enjoy through life the elevated satisfaction that follows such good works to those who can give you nothing but their prayers! it is alike creditable to your provincial government and those true principles which are the best riches of all free governments; and i hope may exercise some good influence upon our state governments, which have done injustice to many poor persons who have given credit to their promises. i have caused your notice to be scattered broadcast, and trust that all who have any interest in the frederickstown savings' bank will know that their money and interest are ready for them. pray present me most affectionately to lady colebrooke and your daughters; and assure her we shall take more comfort than ever in showing her over our beautiful hills, that have health and joy in every breeze. my own health continues as good as when you were last here; and my family (who have not been taken hence) seem devoted to my comfort. what reason have we for devout thanksgiving, that our two countries are not at swords' points, and that the true feeling of our common ancestry is now sweeping over our land! we are in deep disgrace on account of this wicked mexican business. what the end is to be can only be known to infinite wisdom; but one thing is certain,--no good can come to us from it. "again i pray you to be assured of my highest respect and regard, and am very faithfully yours, "amos lawrence." chapter xxvii. mr. lawrence as an applicant.--letters.--diary.--prayer and meditations.--liberality to a creditor.--letters. it was not uncommon for mr. lawrence, when a good work was in progress, to give not only his own means, but to lend a helping hand by soliciting contributions from others. the following note, addressed to a wealthy bachelor, is a specimen: "boston, june , . "my dear sir: you will be surprised at this letter, coming as it does as a first; but i know, from my experience of your skill and talents as a business man, how pleasant it is to you to make good bargains and safe investments; and, although you are a bachelor, the early business habits you acquired are marked, and are to be carried forward till the footing up of the account, and the trial-balance presented to the master at his coming. as i said before, you like safe investments, that shall be returned four-fold, if such can be made. now, i am free to say to you, i know of such an one; and the promisor is a more secure one than a. & a. l. & co., uncle sam, the old bay state, or bonds and mortgages in your own neighborhood. you ask, then why not take it yourself? i answer, because i have invested in advance in the same sort of stock in other quarters, but am willing to give my guaranty that you shall be satisfied that it is all i represent when you make your final settlement. it is this: amherst college you know all about; and that is now in especial need of new instructors, and increased funds for their support. twenty thousand dollars from you will place it on high ground, give a name to a professorship, make you feel happier and richer than you ever did in your life. what say you?--will you do it? the respect of good men will be of more value to you through your remaining days than any amount of increase, even if as vast as girard's or astor's. as i am a mere looker-on, you will take this, as i design it, as an expression of good-will to the college, no less than to you." "mem. by a. l.--received an answer on the th, very good and kind, from mr. ----." in addition to the "very good answer," mr. lawrence had soon after the gratification of knowing that the application had been successful, and that the necessary sum had been contributed by his correspondent. about the same date, he writes to his friend, professor packard, of bowdoin college, as follows: "your visit to us the last week has opened new views and visions, that are better described in the last chapter of revelations than in any account i can give. bowdoin college is connected with all that is near and dear to president appleton,--not only those on the stage of action with him, but all who came after, embracing in this latter class your own loved ones, who may continue to exercise an important agency in making the college what the good man, in his lifetime, strove to make it. the love, veneration, and respect, my dear wife had for him, makes her feel a peculiar pleasure in doing what would have cheered and comforted him so much had he lived till this time. the thousand dollars handed to you is a first payment of six thousand that she will give to the college in aid of the fund now in progress of collection; and she directs that the lawrence academy, at groton, may be allowed to send one scholar each year to bowdoin college, to be carried through the four years without charge for instruction; and that, whenever the trustees of the academy do not supply a pupil, the college may fill the place. i will hold myself responsible to make good mrs. l.'s intentions, should she be deprived in any way of this privilege before the work is done." early in the summer of this year, the hon. abbott lawrence made his munificent donation of fifty thousand dollars to harvard college, for the purpose of founding what was afterwards called, in honor of the donor, the lawrence scientific school. after reading the letter accompanying this donation, mr. lawrence addressed to his brother the following: "wednesday morning, june , . "dear brother abbott: i hardly dare trust myself to speak what i feel, and therefore write a word to say that i thank god i am spared to this day to see accomplished by one so near and dear to me this last best work ever done by one of our name, which will prove a better title to true nobility than any from the potentates of the world. it is more honorable, and more to be coveted, than the highest political station in our country, purchased as these stations often are by time-serving. it is to impress on unborn millions the great truth that our talents are trusts committed to us for use, and to be accounted for when the master calls. this magnificent plan is the great thing that you will see carried out, if your life is spared; and you may well cherish it as the thing nearest your heart. it enriches your descendants in a way that mere money never can do, and is a better investment than any one you have ever made. "your affectionate brother, amos. "to abbott lawrence." to a friend he writes, soon after: "this noble plan is worthy of him; and i can say truly to you, that i feel enlarged by his doing it. instead of our sons going to france and other foreign lands for instruction, here will be a place, second to no other on earth, for such teaching as our country stands now in absolute need of. here, at this moment, it is not in the power of the great railroad companies to secure a competent engineer to carry forward their work, so much are the services of such men in demand." * * * * * "boston, june , . "dear partners: please pass to the credit of my friend, the rev. mark hopkins, two thousand dollars, to pay for four scholarships at williams college, to be used through all time by the trustees of lawrence academy, in groton. the said trustees, or their representatives, may send and keep in college four pupils from the academy, without any charge for tuition; and, whenever they omit or decline keeping up their full number, the government or the proper authorities of the college are authorized to fill the vacancy or vacancies from their own college pupils. charge the same to my account. a. l." "to a. & a. l. & co." during the last twenty years of his life, mr. lawrence was unable to attend more than the morning services of the church on sunday, on account of the state of his health. he was a most devout and constant worshipper, and many of those who have conducted the religious services of the church which he attended will well remember the upturned countenance, the earnest attention, and the significant motions of his head, as he listened with an expression of approval to the faithful declarations of the speaker. he loved to listen to those who "did not shun to declare all the counsel of god," and would sometimes express disappointment when the preacher failed to declare what he considered the important truths of the gospel. in writing to a friend, after listening to a discourse of the latter description from a stranger, he compares it, in its adaptation to the spiritual wants of the hearers, to the nourishment which a wood-chopper would receive by placing him in the top of a flowering tree, and allowing him to feed only on the odor of its blossoms. his feelings on this subject are expressed in a letter to an esteemed clergyman, who had solicited his aid in behalf of a church in a distant city. "boston, june , . "my friend: i have your letter of yesterday; and, in reply, i offer it as my opinion that the unitarianism growing up among us the few years past has so much philosophy as to endanger the christian character of our denomination, and to make us mere rationalists of the german school, which i dread more than anything in the way of religious progress. the church at ---- may be of use in spreading christianity; but it may also be a reproval to it. i do not feel sufficient confidence in it to give money to keep life in it until i see evidence of some of the conservative influences that my own beloved and honored pastor is calling back among us. your well-wisher and friend, "a. l. "p. s.--i fully agree in the opinion that ---- is an important point for the dissemination of truth; and, before giving aid, i must know the man before i help support the minister, having small confidence in the teachings of many who enjoy considerable reputation as teachers of righteousness. i may have expressed doubts and fears that may not seem well founded; but i feel them." the following entry in his diary will give some idea of mr. lawrence's exactness in his daily business: "_saturday, july , ._--enclosed in a note to the rev. ---- ----, of ----, a fifty-dollar bank-note, of the atlantic bank, no. , dated jan. , , payable to george william dodd; letter a at each end of the bill, and a. p. p. in blue ink, in my writing, at the top. sent the letter to the post-office by coachman, and paid the postage; he keeping a memorandum of his having delivered it, and paid for it. a. l." "_sept. ._--professor ----, of the baptist college in ----, has called, to whom i shall give a parcel of books for the use of the college, and also a good word, which i hope will make him remember in whose service he is engaged." "_sept. ._--delivered him about two hundred and fifty volumes, various; all of value to him and his college, he said. he is a young man (under thirty years) and a minister." "_september , , sabbath-day._[ ]--'o most blessed lord and saviour; thou who didst, by thy precious death and burial, take away the sting of death and the darkness of the grave! grant unto me the precious fruit of this holy triumph of thine, and be my guide both in life and in death. in thy name will i lay me down in peace and rest; for thou, o lord, makest me to dwell in safety! enlighten, o lord, the eyes of my understanding, that i may not sleep the sleep of death! into thy hands i commend my spirit; for thou hast redeemed me, o thou covenant-keeping god! bless and preserve me, therefore, both now and forever! amen!' "these are suitable thoughts and aspirations, such as every christian may profitably indulge on retiring each night. his bed should remind him of his grave; and, as the day past brings him so much nearer to it, the appearance, when summoned hence, should be the point most distinctly before him. if he pass on with the 'well done,' no time can be amiss when called up. o god! grant me to be ever ready; and, by thy blessing and thy mercy, grant me to be allowed to join company with those loved and precious ones whom i feel entirely assured are at thy right hand, then to be no more separated! amos lawrence." [ ] the opposite page is a fac-simile of the original manuscript found in mr. lawrence's pocket-book after his death. it may serve as a fair specimen of his chirography during his latter years. [illustration: fac-simile of mr lawrence's hand-writing in .] the following note and memorandum by mr. lawrence will show how he dealt with an old debtor: (to mr. g.) "my dear sir: if you have any mode by which i can have the pleasure of receiving your note and interest, amounting to twenty-three hundred dollars, to be vested by me for the benefit of your wife, i shall be pleased to do it, having long since determined to appropriate this money, whenever received, in this way "yours, truly, a. l. "for himself and brother a." "mem.--mr. ---- was an invalid, and confined to his house at that period, and sent for me to call and see him. i did so, and he seemed much affected at my offer; but told me he was in better circumstances than i had supposed him, and declined the proffered aid. the information thus given me in this last interview was most welcome: from that time, i never mentioned his debt. after his decease, it was paid by his sons; and the family has been prosperous since. i spent the money for others in need, and am rejoiced that all his are so comfortable." many of our readers who can look back a few years will recall to memory the manly form, and fine, open countenance, of william l. green, who was so suddenly cut off at the very threshold of what promised to be an honorable and useful career. he had come to boston from his native town of groton; and, after serving an apprenticeship, had entered upon a successful business. he had endeared himself to a large circle of friends, and possessed such qualities of mind and heart as had made him the stay and hope of his parents in their declining years. upon hearing of the death of this nephew, mr. lawrence addressed to his parents the following letter of sympathy: "boston, october , . "dear brother and sister: god speaks to us through the rustling of the leaves no less distinctly than in the voice of the whirlwind and the storm; and it is now our business and our privilege to look at him and to him for the lesson of yesterday. dear w., as he parted from me the sabbath noon before the last, looked the embodiment of health, long life, and happiness. now, that noble figure, face, expression, and loved spirit, which lightened his path, is no longer among us, to be in danger of injury from our yielding him that which belongs to god only. were we not liable, dear brother and sister, to interrupt those communings which god calls us to with himself? he is our merciful father, and does for us what he sees is best; and, if we receive his teachings, however dark they may appear to us at present, all will be made clear at the right time. your precious treasure is secured, i trust, and will prove an increased attraction to you to follow; and it seems to me that our children are uniting in their joyful meeting in heaven. may we see in this event, more clearly than ever, where we are to look for direction, instruction, and support! may we be ready when called! so prays your affectionate and afflicted brother, a. l." to a friend he writes, dec. : "in our domestic relations, we are all as we could desire, save the individual case of my brother william, who is barely remaining this side jordan, and in a happy state, i trust, to pass over. for a number of days, we have supposed each might be the last but he may continue for some days, or possibly weeks. death strikes right and left, and takes from our midst the long-honored and beloved, in their maturity. dr. codman and judge hubbard are both to be buried to-day; two men whose places will not soon be filled, i fear. only last tuesday, in my ride with good dr. sharp, we agreed to call and pay our respects to dr. c. on thursday; but, on that morning, learned that he was dead. on thursday, judge hubbard rode out, and transacted legal business as a magistrate; in the evening went to bed as usual; in the night-time was turned over in bed, as he requested to be, and ceased to breathe. how could a good man pass over jordan more triumphantly and gloriously?" the reader will not fail to note the coïncidence, that, almost exactly five years later, mr. lawrence was summoned to "pass over" in the same manner, which, from the expression used, seems to have been to him so desirable; though his own departure was still more sudden and striking. (to a physician.) "sabbath evening, seven o'clock. "dear w.: i have been reading to ---- the last hour, beginning at the second chapter of matthew, and so on in course. please look at the fourth chapter, and the latter part of the twenty-third verse, and i think you will need no apology for doing what you do, with such instruction. christ's example, no less than his precepts, is designed to be practically useful to the whole family of man; and i feel humbled and grieved that i have not followed him better, and preached better by all the motives he has thus spread out. i say, then, to you and yours, god bless you in your good work, and make you a worthy follower of the beloved! a. l." chapter xxviii. reflections.--views on holding office.--letters.--captain a. slidell mckenzie.--death of brother, and of hon. j. mason. "_jan. , ._--in reviewing the scenes and the business of the past year, i have continued evidence of that mercy which a father bestows on his children, and a louder call to yield more fully than i ever yet have done to the teachings he designs. many things that seem dark, of which the reasons are not understood, will be made clear at the right time. it is manifest that my stewardship is not so far well done as to permit me to fold my arms and feel easy. no: my life is spared for more work. may its every day be marked by some token that shall meet thine approval, when the final call shall come!" (to president hopkins.) "boston, march . "this religious awakening among your college students is among the blessings that our father vouchsafes to his servants who labor faithfully in their work; and i can see his hand as plainly in it as though it were thrust before my face as i write this sentence. let us, then, bless his holy name, and thank him, as disciples and followers of christ the beloved; and urge upon these young men to come forward, as doves to their windows. if my life and my trusteeship have been in any manner instrumental in this good work in your college, it will be matter of grateful thanksgiving while i live. mrs. l. and myself both felt our hearts drawn out to you as we read your letter; and we commend you, and the good work of guiding these interesting young christians in the ways and the works that lead to that blessed home to which our loved ones have been called, and to which we hope to be welcomed. to his grace and guidance we commend all things touching this onward and upward movement. i have been under the smarting-rod a few days within the past fortnight. severe pain took all my courage and light-heartedness out of me, and made me a sorry companion; and my friends, seeing me in my every-day dress, would hardly know me in this sombre garb. again, dear friend, i bid you god-speed in the good work; and, at last, may you receive the 'well done' promised to the faithful!" in the presidential campaign of , the hon. abbott lawrence was made a prominent candidate of the whig party for the vice-presidency; and, in the convention which assembled at philadelphia in june, was voted for, and received but one vote short of that which would have secured the nomination. mr. fillmore, it will be recollected, was the successful candidate. during the canvass, a gentleman, editing a newspaper which strongly advocated the nomination of taylor and lawrence, addressed a very courteous letter to mr. amos lawrence, asking for aid in supporting this movement, which he supposed he would of course be deeply interested in. the reply is given here, as an illustration of his views in regard to holding high political office: "dear sir: in reply to yours, this moment handed me, i state that my income is so reduced, thus far, this year, that i am compelled to use prudence in the expenditure of money, and must therefore decline making the loan. if my vote would make my brother vice-president, i would not give it, as i think it lowering his good name to accept office of any sort, by employing such means as are now needful to get votes. i hope 'old zack' will be president. "respectfully yours, a. l." to president hopkins he writes, april : "what should we do, if the bible[ ] were not the foundation of our system of self-government? and what will become of us, when we wilfully and wickedly cast it behind us? we have all more than common reason to pray, in the depths of our sins, god be merciful to us sinners. the efforts made to lessen respect for it, and confidence in it, will bring to its rescue multitudes who otherwise would not have learned how much they owe it. the 'age of reason,' fifty years ago, told, on the whole, in advancing truth, by bringing to its support the best minds of christendom. i hope it may be so now. this is a theme for your head and heart and pen. no man in new england can make a deeper mark. what say ye? the bible is our great charter, and does more than all others, written or unwritten." "w. c. writes from n., asking me to loan him three thousand dollars to buy a farm, and to improve his health and mind; stating that he is a cripple, but wants to do something for the world." "that man may last, but never lives, who much receives, but nothing gives, whom none can love, whom none can thank, creation's blot, creation's blank." [ ] in looking over the list of life directors of the american bible society, made such by the payment of one hundred and fifty dollars each, there are found at least ten who are known to have been constituted by mr. lawrence. (to president hopkins.) "boston, june , "my dear friend: only think what changes a few weeks have produced in europe, and the probable effects upon this country. it seems now certain that vast numbers will emigrate here, rich and poor, from the continent and from england. the question for us is, how shall we treat them? it is certain that foreigners will come here. we have land enough for them, but have not the needful discipline to make them safe associates in maintaining our system of government. virtue and intelligence are our platform; but the base passions of our country have been ministered to so abundantly by unscrupulous politicians, that our moral sense has been blunted; and these poor, ignorant foreigners are brought into use for selfish purposes, and the prospects for the future are appalling. yet a ray of light has just broken in upon us by the nomination of general taylor for president; and my belief is, he is the best man for the place who can be named, with any prospect of success. he is not a politician, but a plain, straight-forward, honest man, anxious to do his duty in all his relations. as to my brother's nomination for vice-president, i am thankful they did not make it in convention: he is in a higher position before the country than he would be if chosen vice-president. his course has been elevated and magnanimous in this matter; for he might, by his personal influence and efforts, have received the nomination. "additional.--it is now almost two, p. m., and i have but just returned from mount auburn. the visit has been deeply interesting, on many accounts, and has almost unfitted me to finish this letter. however, there is nothing in the visit but what ought to make me thankful that my treasures, though removed, are secured; and, if my poor efforts can bring me again into their society through the blessed saviour, i ought not allow this gush of feeling to unman me." a few days later, he writes to the same friend: "i have not as yet heard of the examination of yesterday at the lawrence academy, which son. a. a. attended, but hope for a good report. in truth, i feel as if that school and your college are to go hand in hand in making whole men for generations to come. there is a pleasant vision which opens to me when i look forward to the characters that the academy and the college are to send forth for the next hundred years. i bless god for my old home, and the great elm in front, which has a teaching and a significance that i shall endeavor to make use of in training my grandchildren and dear ones of my family connection. how important, then, that our places of education be sustained, as supplying the pure and living streams that shall irrigate every hill and valley of this vast empire, and train men to know and do their duty! i will not quarrel with a man's presbyterian, episcopal, or baptist creed, so be he will act the part of a good soldier of christ; for i verily believe great multitudes, of all creeds, desire to serve him faithfully." "_aug. ._--t. g. sent me a paper this morning, having many names on it, with a polite note. the paper i returned without reading; telling him i did not read such, or hear stories, and must be excused. he took the answer in high dudgeon, and sent another note, saying he had mistaken me, and desired that his first note should be returned. i wrote upon it that i lived by the day and hour, an invalid, and, for two years, had adopted this course, and had treated bishops, clergymen, and laymen, with the fewest words; that i intended no disrespect, and begged his pardon if i had done anything wrong. i also told him this course was urged upon me by my medical adviser; but, with all my care, there is now an average of six applications a day through the year." mr. lawrence had, many years previous to this date, formed an acquaintance with captain slidell mckenzie, of the united states navy, which had been continued, and was a source of mutual pleasure. among other relics in the possession of the writer, is a cane of palm-wood, presented by capt. mckenzie, on his return from mexico as commander of the united states steamship "mississippi," to mr. lawrence, who had caused to be engraven upon it, on a silver plate, the following inscription: alexander slidell mckenzie to amos lawrence. . palm-wood from the banks of the tobasco river. from the united states naval commander who was not afraid to do his duty when life was required at the yard-arm. the latter part of the inscription is in allusion to the course which capt. mckenzie felt obliged to adopt in the mutiny on board the united states brig "somers," in --. on sept. , he thus notices the death of that officer in his diary: "this, morning's newspapers give the intelligence that the excellent and accomplished capt. mckenzie died at sing sing, n. y., two days ago. he fell from his horse by an affection of the heart; and died almost instantly. thus has departed a man whom i esteemed as among the best and purest i am acquainted with, and whose character should be a treasure for his family and the nation. i think him a model officer and a good christian." * * * * * "_oct. ._-- canadian boat-song. 'faintly as tolls the evening chime, our voices keep tune, and our oars keep time; soon as the woods on shore look dim, we'll sing at st. ann's our parting hymn. row, brothers, row: the stream runs fast, the rapids are near, and daylight's past.' i first heard this song sung and played on the piano by ----, afterwards mrs. ----, at her house in ---- street, in . the song rang in my ears sweetly for weeks, as i was taken down with fever the next morning. i never think of it but with delight." "_oct. ._--my brother william died on saturday, oct. , at three, p. m., in the sixty-sixth year of his age; and my brother mason died only five hours afterwards, in his eighty-first year,--within three doors of each other. both were very dear to me in life, and both are very dear to me in death; and, in god's good time, i trust that i shall meet them again, not subject to the ills and changes of my present abode." in a letter of the same date to a friend, he says: "my letter of last tuesday will have prepared you for the sad intelligence in this. brother william continued without much suffering or consciousness till two o'clock yesterday, and then ceased breathing, without a groan. yesterday morning, the hand of death was manifestly upon brother mason, who was conscious to objects around, and requested c. to pray with him; and, when asked if he understood what was said, answered, 'yes,' and expressed by words and signs his wants and feelings. he continued in a quiet, humble, and hopeful frame, we judge, until just eight o'clock, when, with a single gasp and a slight noise, his mighty spirit passed out of its immense citadel of clay, to join the throng of the loved ones gone before. brother w. was in his sixty-sixth year, brother m. in his eighty-first; and both were such men as we need, true as steel in all good works and words. mr. m. was never sick a day to disable him from attending to his professional and public duties in fifty years, and, until within a short time, never confined a day to his house by illness. on the last sunday evening, i passed a most refreshing half-hour with him. he appeared as well as he had done for a year; inquired very particularly into brother w.'s state; expressed the opinion that his own time was near at hand, and a hope that he might be taken without losing his mental and bodily powers. he remarked that protracted old age, after the loss of power to give and receive comfort, was not to be desired. he has often expressed to me the hope that he should be taken just as he has been. have we not reason to praise and bless god in taking, no less than in sparing, these honored and loved ones?" chapter xxix. system in accounts.--letter from prof. stuart.--letters.--diary.--dr. hamilton.--father matthew. "_january , ._--the habit of keeping an account of my expenditures for objects other than for my family, and for strictly legal calls, i have found exceedingly convenient and satisfactory; as i have been sometimes encouraged, by looking back to some entry of aid to a needy institution or individual, to do twice as much for some other needy institution or individual. i can truly say, that i deem these outlays my best, and would not, if i could by a wish, have any of them back again. i adopted the practice, ten years ago, of spending my income. the more i give, the more i have; and do most devoutly and heartily pray god that i may be faithful in the use of the good things intrusted to me." "_january ._--yesterday, peter c. brooks died, aged eighty-two; a man who has minded his own business through life, and from a poor boy became the richest man in the city. i honor him as an honest man." (from prof. stuart, of andover.) "andover, january , . "my dear sir: soon after my daughter's return from boston, i received a garment exceedingly appropriate to the severe cold to which i am daily exposed in my rides. many, many hearty thanks for your kindness! to me the article in question is of peculiar value. the cold can hardly penetrate beneath such a garment. god has blessed you with wealth; but he has given you a richer blessing still; that is, a heart overflowing with kindness to your fellow-beings, and a willingness to do good to all as you have opportunity. i accept, with warm emotions of gratitude and thankfulness, the kindness you have done to me. i would not exchange your gift for a large lump of the california gold. be assured you have my fervent prayer and wishes, that you may at last receive a thousand-fold for all the kindness that you have shown to your fellow-men. you and i are near our final account. may i not hope that this will also be entering on our final reward? i do hope this; i must hope it. what else is there in life that can make us patiently and submissively and calmly endure its ills? god almighty bless and sustain and guide and comfort you until death; and then may you pass through the dark valley without a fear, cheerfully looking to what lies beyond it! "i am, my dear sir, with sincere gratitude, your friend and obedient servant, moses stuart." to president hopkins he writes, jan. : "your letters always bring light to our path, and joy to our hearts, in one way or another. the two last seemed to come at the very time to do both, in a way to impress our senses and feelings, as the clear heavens, and brilliant sky, and exhilarating atmosphere, of this charming cold day, do mine, in contrast with a beautiful bouquet of flowers on my table as a love-token from some of my young sleigh-riding friends, and which makes me feel a boy with these boys, and an old man with such wise ones as you. "in the scenes of the past year, much that will mark its character stands out in bold relief; and, if we of this country are true to our principles, the great brotherhood of man will be elevated; for there have been overturns and overturns which will act until he whose right it is shall reign. if we live up to our political professions, our protestant religion will elevate the millions who will be brought under our levelling process. 'level up,' but not down, was judge story's maxim of democratic levelling, as he began his political career. in the business of levelling up, the lawrence academy, i trust, may do something. the late notices of it have been somewhat various by the newspaper editors to whom the preceptor sent catalogues." * * * * * "_february ._--attended brattle-street church this morning, and heard a consolatory sermon; and, at the closing prayer, the giving of thanks to our father in heaven, through jesus christ, who lived to serve us, and died to save us." on the th, he writes to his brother abbott, who had had tendered to him, by general taylor, the office of secretary of the navy: "dear brother: i have heard since noon that you have the invitation of general taylor to take a seat in his cabinet, and that you will proceed to washington forthwith to answer for yourself. i am not less gratified by the offer than you can be; but i should feel deep anguish, if i thought you could be induced to accept it, even for a brief period. your name and fame as a private citizen is a better inheritance for your children than any distinction you may attain from official station; and the influence you can exercise for your country and friends, as you are, is higher and better than any you can exercise as an official of the government." on march , he writes to his brother at washington: "i awoke this morning very early, and, after a while, fixed my mind in prayer to god, that your duty may be clearly seen, and that you may perform it in the spirit of a true disciple." and again on march , after hearing that his brother had declined the proffered seat in the cabinet, he writes to him: "the morning papers confirm my convictions of what you would do; and i do most heartily rejoice, and say that i never felt as proud before." * * * * * "_april ._--a subscription paper, with an introductory letter from ----, was handed me, on which were seven or eight names for a hundred dollars each, to aid the family of ----, lately deceased. not having any acquaintance with him or family, i did not subscribe. applications come in from all quarters, for all objects. the reputation of giving freely is a very bad reputation, so far as my personal comfort is concerned." april , he writes to a friend: "the matters of deepest interest in my last were ----, the religious movement, ----'s ill-health, and ----'s accident. all these matters are presenting a sunny show now. our dead unitarianism of ten or fifteen years ago is stirred up, and the deep feelings of sin, and salvation through the beloved, are awakened, where there seemed to be nothing but indifference and coldness; my hope and belief are that great good will follow. in the matter of the enjoyment of life, you judge me rightly; few men have so many and rich blessings to be thankful for; and, while i am spared with sufficient understanding to comprehend these, i pray that i may have the honesty to use them in the way that the master will approve. of what use will it be to have my thoughts directed to the increase of my property, at the cost of my hopes of heaven? there, a lazarus is better off than a score of dives. pray without ceasing, that i may be faithful." the following extract of a letter is taken from a work entitled "a romance of the sea-serpent, or the ichthyosaurus," and will show mr. lawrence's views respecting the much contested subject of which it treats: "boston, april , . "i have never had any doubt of the existence of the _sea-serpent_ since the morning he was seen off nahant by martial prince, through his famous mast-head spy-glass. for, within the next two hours, i conversed with mr. samuel cabot, and mr. daniel p. parker, i think, and one or more persons beside, who had spent a part of that morning in witnessing his movements. in addition, colonel harris, the commander at fort independence, told me that the creature had been seen by a number of his soldiers while standing sentry in the early dawn, some time before this show at nahant; and colonel harris believed it as firmly as though the creature were drawn up before us in state-street, where we then were. "i again say, i have never, from that day to this, had a doubt of the _sea-serpent's existence_. the revival of the stories will bring out many facts that will place the matter before our people in such a light as will make them _as much ashamed_ to doubt, as _they formerly_ were to believe in its existence. "yours truly, amos lawrence." to a friend he writes, july : "brother a. has received the place of minister to the court of st. james; the most flattering testimony of his worth and character that is within the gift of the present administration, and the only office that i would not advise against his accepting." about this time, mr. lawrence read a small work, entitled "life in earnest," by the rev. james hamilton, d.d., minister of the scotch church, regent's square, london. the sentiments of this little volume were so much akin to his own, and were withal so forcibly exemplified, that he commenced a correspondence with the author, which became a most interesting one, and continued until the close of his life. "boston, july , . "to rev. j. hamilton, d.d. "sir: the few lines on the other side of this sheet are addressed to me by our excellent governor, whose good word may be grateful to you, coming as it does from a christian brother across the atlantic. if it should ever happen to you to visit this country, i need not say how great would be my pleasure to see you. i am a minute-man, living by the day and by the ounce; but am compensated for all privations, by reading such tracts as 'life in earnest,' in such a way that few are allowed. i have cleared out the sunday-school depository three times in the last four weeks, and have scattered the work broadcast, and intend to continue to do so if my health allows. among those to whom i have given one is my younger brother, who is soon to be with you in england, as minister to your court. i recommend him to your prayers and your confidence. "with great respect for your character, i am yours, "amos lawrence." "_july ._--we are to have father matthew here to-morrow: he is a lion, but i probably shall only see him at a distance. the influence he is said to have upon his irish people may result in making many of them industrious citizens, who would, without him, be criminals, and a pest to honest people. the evil of such masses being thrown upon us we must bear, and study how to relieve ourselves in any practicable way. i see none but to educate the children, and circulate the bible and good books among them, which shall encourage them to do the best they can for themselves. "the christian banner may have many local influences and teachings; but its broad folds, i trust, will cover many true followers, however exact its worldly interpreters may be of what constitutes a true follower. i saw, in the _new york observer_ (i think it was), a statement of a district in the south-west, where were forty-one christian denominations, and no two of whose ministers could exchange pulpit labors. do not these people need a christian teacher?" "_august _.--father matthew is doing a good work here; and the result of his power is in his benevolent and sincere expression, and charming head and face. he has called to see me twice, and i intend to call and see him to-morrow. his ease and eloquence could not do for him what his heavenly expression does." chapter xxx. codicil to will.--illness.--gen. whiting.--letters.--diary. in august, , mr. lawrence reviewed his will and added to it the following codicil: "through the mercy of god, my life has been prolonged to this time, and my mental and bodily powers continued to me to an extent that has enabled me to see to the application of those trusts that have been confided to me; and, should my stewardship end now or next year, and the 'well done' of the master be pronounced upon my labors, all things here will seem nothing, and less than nothing, in comparison. "in short, my life, cheerful and happy as it is made by the three blessings conferred upon man after his fall (wife, children, and friends), is in the keeping of a merciful father, who, by thus continuing it, allows me a foretaste of that future home i hope for whenever he calls. "in reviewing my will, above written, executed on the st day of february, a. d. , i see nothing to alter, and everything to confirm. and i do hereby declare it still my will, and this codicil is to be taken as a confirmation of it; and i do earnestly hope all in interest will see clearly the meaning of every clause, and carry out my meaning without any quibbling, question, or controversy. i have been my own executor, for many years, of the surplus property i have received, and intend to be while my powers of mind will allow it. many near and dear friends to whom i looked for counsel and direction, at the time my will was executed, have been taken hence, which makes me more desirous of giving a renewed expression at this time." in this connection was the following note to his sons, found in his pocket-book after his decease: "dear w. and a.: in my will, i have made no bequests as tokens of remembrance, and have endeavored to do for all (whom i am interested in out of my own family connections) what is needful and proper and best; yet i wish some expression of kindness to m. and f., if in the family when i am taken." * * * * here follow donations to domestics who had been for many years in his family. about the th of september, mr. lawrence experienced a severe attack of cholera morbus, which was then a sort of epidemic in the community. of this attack, he writes to president hopkins as follows: "i hardly know how to address you, since i find myself once more spared to lay open my heart to you; for i do indeed feel all the force of the words, what shall i render unto god for all his unspeakable goodness? i have been upon the brink of jordan, and, with my outstretched hand, seized hold of our merciful father's hand, that was held out towards me, and was supported by his grasp as plainly as i could have been by your own hand. i was waiting, and praying to him to conduct me to the other side and permit me to join the company of loved ones _passed on_, and felt almost sure i should never see the sunlight of this world again, when, to my amazement, i found my pains subsiding, and that i had not finished the work he had assigned. when you were here, i gave you some little outline of my plan of work for ----. on the th of september, i completed that work, and felt stronger on that day than on any day for a month. under the excitement of the scene and a sudden change of weather, i took cold, and had a terrible attack of cholera, which, by the immediate administration of remedies, was in a degree quieted. thus my poor old worn-out machine was still kept from parting, as the sole of the shoe is sometimes kept on by freezing snow and water upon it." in the beginning of this volume, mention is made of the first clerk whom mr. lawrence employed after entering business in the year . to that gentleman, now brigadier-general whiting, was addressed the following letter, which was the recommencement of a correspondence which had ceased for many years: "boston, november, . "my dear general: i have been deeply interested in overlooking your volume of revolutionary orders of washington, selected from your father's manuscripts, as it brought back scenes and memories of forty years and more ago, when i used to visit at your house in lancaster, and to read those papers with a relish that might well be coveted by the youth of the present day. i thank you for this token of auld lang syne, and shall feel the more thankful if you will come and see me. i would certainly go to you, if i had the strength, and could do it safely; but shall never go so far from home, being at any moment liable to be called off. my earnest desire is to be 'in line,' and to be able to answer, promptly, 'here.' i hope to hear from you and your wife and wee things: all have a hold upon me, and you will give them an old man's love. i have taken the opportunity to send you some little reminiscences of old times. butler's 'history of groton' (which connects lancaster in early days) is a model for its exact truthfulness: he was the preceptor of the academy until long after you entered the army. then i have sent a catalogue of the school, from its beginning for fifty years or more; 'history of lowell as it was, and lowell as it is,' well written and true; 'boston notions,' put together by old mr. dearborn, the printer, whom you knew; and some other little matters, which will serve to freshen old things, as your 'evolutionary orders of washington' have done with me. i have just looked into my first sales-book, and there see the entries made by you more than forty years ago. ever since, you have been going up, from the cornet of dragoons to the present station. "farewell. your old friend, amos lawrence. "gen. henry whiting, fort hamilton, n. y." (to robert barnwell rhett, esq., of south carolina.) "boston, dec. , . "my dear sir: your letter of november reached me in due course, and gave me unfeigned pleasure in seeing my hopes confirmed, that the practical common sense of south carolina was returning, and that the use of their head and hands was getting to be felt among the citizens, as necessary to their salvation as common brethren in the great family of states. without the use of those trusts placed in their hands by our common father, the state will not be worth the parchment on which to draw the deeds fifty years hence; and i most earnestly pray god to guide, guard, and save the state from their childishness in their fears that our northern agitators can harm them. i spent the winter of in washington, and heard the whole of the debate upon admitting alabama and missouri into the union. alabama was admitted, missouri rejected; and i made up my mind then that i would never interfere until requested by my brethren of the slave-holding states; which resolution i have carried out from that day to this; and i still hold to it. but i would not have admitted alabama then or missouri on the terms they were admitted. we of the north have windy, frothy politicians, who hope to make capital out of their ultraism; but, in the aggregate, they soon find their level. now, of the point to which i desire to come, i do earnestly desire your state to carry out your prophecy, that, in ten years, you will spin all your own crop of cotton; for we of massachusetts will gladly surrender to you the manufacture of coarse fabrics, and turn our industry to making fine articles. in short, we could now, if you are ready, give up to you the coarse fabrics, and turn one half of our machinery into spinning and weaving cotton hose; and nothing will help us all so much as specific duties. the whole kingdom of saxony is employed at this moment in making cotton hose for the united states from yarns purchased in england, and made of your cotton. how much better would it be for you and for us to save these treble profits and transport, by making up the cotton at home! think of these matters, and look at them without the prejudice that prevails so extensively in your state. a few years ago, i asked our kinsman, gen. ----, of your state, how the forty-bale theory was esteemed at that time. his answer was, 'we all thought it true when it was started, and it had its effect; but nobody is of that mind now.' still, i believe, when an error gets strong hold of the popular mind, it is much more difficult to eradicate it than it is to supply the truth in its place. if i know myself, i would not mete to you any different measure from what i would ask of you; and i must say to you, that your state and people have placed themselves in a false position, which will be as apparent to them in a few years as the sun is at noonday. my own family and friends are in usual health; and no man this side heaven enjoys earth better than i do. i do pray you to come and see us. i hope to see your son at cambridge this week. most respectfully yours, "amos lawrence." * * * * * "boston, december , . "to gen. henry whiting, u. s. a., fort hamilton, n. y. "my early friend: forty years and more ago, we used to talk over together the dismemberment of poland and the scenes that followed, and to pour out together our feelings for those martyrs of liberty. at the present moment, my feelings are deeply moved by taking by the hand colonel p. and major f., just landed here, and driven from their country, martyrs to the same cause. i need only say to you that they are strangers among us, and any attentions from you will be grateful to them, and duly felt by your old friend, a. l." * * * * * "_december , ._--i have been daily employed, of late, in accompanying visitors to our public institutions; among these, mr. charles carroll, of maryland, to the mather school and the perkins asylum for the blind. the effect of kindness upon the character of children is more strikingly illustrated in the mather school than in any other i know of. three fifths of the pupils are children of foreigners,--english, irish, scotch, german, swiss, and the like,--mostly very poor. two fifths are american; and these foreign children, after a few months, are ambitious to look as well and do as well as the best. the little irish creatures are as anxious to have their faces clean, their hair smooth, their clothes mended, and to learn to read, write, and explain their lessons, as the upper children. these upper children, to the number of about one hundred, belong to the lawrence association." "_december , christmas afternoon._--the following beautiful little note, accompanied by a silver cup, almost unmanned me. forty-three girls signed the note; two others engaged in it are sick; and one died, and was buried at mount auburn by her particular request,--making forty-six of these children, who, of their own motion, got up this token. their note is dated to-day, and runs thus: "'respected sir: the misses of the lawrence association, anxious to testify their gratitude for the kind interest which you have ever manifested towards them, would most respectfully request your acceptance of this small token of their gratitude.'" (signed by forty-three girls.) "_ ._--we had great times with the children last evening at sister m.'s. it really seemed to me that the entertainment gave me as much pleasure as any child among them; beside which, i went to the house of my old friend dr. bowditch (where i used to visit twenty-five years ago on like occasions), for a few minutes, and there found seventeen of his grandchildren enjoying the fruits of the christmas-tree in the best manner possible." chapter xxxi. diary.--reflections.--sickness.--letter prom rev. dr. sharp.--correspondence. on the first of january, , mr. lawrence, as usual, reviews, in his property-book, the state of his affairs during the preceding year, with an estimate of his expenditures. the entry for the present year is as follows: "the amount of my expenditures for all objects (taxes included) is about one hundred and twenty thousand dollars. i consider the money well spent, and pray god constantly that i may be watchful in the use of the blessings he bestows, so that at last he may admit me among the faithful that surround his throne." the above entry will give some idea of the fidelity with which his trusts had been fulfilled, so far as regarded his worldly possessions. each year, as it rolled by, as well as each successive attack of illness, seemed only to stimulate him in his efforts to accomplish what he could while the day lasted. no anxious fears disturbed him as he looked forward to the near approach of "that night when no man can work." that night to him was but a prelude of rest from bodily weakness and suffering, and the forerunner of a brighter day, of which, even in this world, he was sometimes permitted to obtain a glimpse. he says: "my own health and strength seem renewed. that cholera attack has changed the whole man; and it is only now and then i am brought to a pause that quickens me in my work when again started. a week since, i ventured on two ounces of solid food for my dinner, differing from what i have taken for many years. nine hours after, in my sleep, i fainted, and was brought to life by dear n. standing over me, giving ammonia, rubbing, and the like. fasting the day following brought me back to the usual vigor and enjoyments. do you not see in this the sentence, 'do with thy might what thy hand findeth to do,' stereotyped in large letters before me. this it is that brings me to the work at this hour in the morning." * * * * * "_march ._--received a letter from rev. mr. hallock, secretary of the american tract society, saying that the society will publish dr. hamilton's lecture on the literary attractions of the bible, which i had sent them a few weeks since; and will supply me with two thousand copies, as i requested. "received also, this morning, another tract of dr. h. from sister k., in london; called the 'happy home,' which finished that series to the working people. after reading this number, i feel a strong desire to see the preceding nine numbers." (to the rev. james hamilton, d.d.) "boston, march , . "rev. and dear sir: i need not repeat to you how deeply interesting all your writings which i have seen have been to me; but you may not feel indifferent to the fact that the lecture you delivered four months ago, on the literary attractions of the bible (which i received from my sister, mrs. abbott lawrence, a few weeks since), is now in process of republication by the american tract society, agreeably to my request. i hope to assist in scattering it broadcast over our broad land; and thus you will be speaking from your own desk, with the speed of light, to an audience from passamaquoddy to oregon. will you do me the favor to give me a copy of 'happy home,' from which i may teach my children and grandchildren. "respectfully your friend, and brother in christ, "amos lawrence." (to a country clergyman (orthodox congregational).) "boston, may , . "rev. and dear sir: i make no apology in asking your acceptance of the above, as i am quite sure it cannot come amiss to a poor clergyman, situated as you are. i pray that you will feel, in using it, you cheer my labors, and make me more happy while i am able to enjoy life, in thus sending an occasional remembrancer to one for whom i have always felt the highest respect and esteem. your friend, "amos lawrence." the above letter contained a draft for one hundred dollars, of which mr. lawrence makes the following memorandum, dated on the th: "mr. ---- acknowledges the above letter in very grateful terms, being what his pressing wants require." in a letter to president hopkins, dated june , mr. lawrence says: "if i cannot visit you bodily, as i had vainly hoped to do, i can convince you that the life and hope of younger days are still in me. your parting word touched me to the quick, and i cannot repeat or read it without a sympathetic tear filling my own eye. i am not able to stand up; but am cheered by the hope that, before many weeks, i may be able to stand alone. our good friend governor briggs called to see me this week, and was quite horrified to see me trundled about on a hospital chair; however, after a good talk, he concluded that what was cut off from the lower works was added to the upper, and the account in my favor. it has always been so with me; the dark places have been made clear at the right time; so i am no object of pity." the lameness here mentioned was caused by a slight sprain of the ankle, but was followed by great prostration of the bodily strength, and a feeble state of all the functions, resulting in that vitiated state of the blood called by physicians "purpura." violent hemorrhages from the nose succeeded; and these, with the intense heat of the weather, so reduced his strength, that the only hope of recovery seemed to be in removing him from the city to the bracing air of the sea-shore. towards the end of july, he was accordingly removed upon a mattress to the house of his son, at nahant; and, from the moment he came within the influence of the fresh sea-breeze, he began to recover his spirits and his strength. a day or two after reaching nahant, he received from his friend, the rev. dr. sharp, the following letter, which is so characteristic, and reminds one so forcibly of the calm and staid manner of that venerable man, that it is given entire: "boston, july , . "my very dear friend: it was with deep regret i learned, on friday last, that you were quite unwell, and at nahant. it was in my mind yesterday morning to visit you; nothing prevented me but an apprehension that it might be deemed inexpedient to admit any one to your sick room, except your own family. but, although i have not seen you in person since your last sickness, yet i have been with you in spirit. i have felt exceedingly sad at the probability of your earthly departure. seldom as we have seen each other, your friendship has been precious to me; and, to say nothing of your dear family, your continuance in life is of great importance to that large family of humanity, the poor, who have so often participated in your bounty. indeed, as we cannot well spare you, i rather cherish the hope that, in his good providence, god will continue you to us a little longer. but, whatever may be the issue of your present illness, i trust that you, with all your friends, will be enabled to say, 'the will of the lord be done.' if he 'lives the longest who answers life's great end,' your life, compared with most, has not been short. not that any of us have done more than our duty. nay, we have all come short, and may say, with all modesty and truthfulness, we are unprofitable servants; although, in some respects, and to our fellow-beings, we may have been profitable. i trust, my dear friend, you are looking for the mercy of god, through our lord jesus christ, unto eternal life. death is not an eternal sleep; no, it is the gate to life. it opens up a blessed immortality to all who, in this world, have feared god and wrought righteousness. this world is a probationary state; if we have been faithful, in some humble degree, to our convictions of duty; if we have regretted our follies and sins; if we have sought to do the will of our heavenly father, and sought forgiveness through the mediation of his son,--god will receive us to his heavenly glory. i believe, in his own good time, he will receive you, my very dear friend; although my prayer is, with submission, that he will restore you to comfortable health, and allow you to remain with us a little longer. may god be with you, and bless you, in life, in death, and forevermore! with most respectful regard to mrs. l., and sympathy with you in your afflictions, in which my dear wife joins, i am truly yours, daniel sharp." from little nahant, mr. lawrence writes to a friend, under date of aug. : "i have just arisen from bed, and am full of the matter to tell you how much good your letter has done. i came here as the last remedy for a sinking man; and, blessed be god, it promises me renewed life and enjoyment. what is it for, that i am thus saved in life, as by a miracle? surely it must be in mercy, to finish out my work begun (in your college and other places), yet unfinished. pray, give us what time you can when you visit andover. if i continue to improve as i have done for ten days, i hope to return home next week; but may have some drawback that will alter the whole aspect of affairs. this beautiful little nahant seems to have been purchased, built up, and provided, by the good influence of our merciful father in heaven upon the heart of ----, that he might save me from death, when it was made certain i could not hold out many days longer. surely i am called on by angel voices to render praise to god." the five weeks' residence upon the sea-shore was greatly enjoyed by mr. lawrence. as the weather was generally fine, much of his time was passed in the open air, in watching the ever-varying sea-views, in reading, or in receiving the visits of his friends. near the end of august, his health and strength had become so far restored as to warrant his return to the city, and, as his memoranda show, to increased efforts in the field of charity. chapter xxxii. amin bey.--amount of donations to williams college. in november, , amin bey, envoy from the sultan of turkey to the united states, visited boston. among other attentions, mr. lawrence accompanied him on a visit to the female orphan asylum, then containing about one hundred inmates; and the pleasant intercourse was continued by a visit of the minister at mr. lawrence's house. the following note accompanied a number of volumes relating to boston and its vicinity: (to his excellency amin bey.) "my brother: the manifest pleasure you felt in visiting our female orphan asylum yesterday has left a sunbeam on my path, that will illumine my journey to our father's house. when we meet there, may the joy of that reünion you hope for with the loved ones in your own country be yours and mine, and all the good of all the world be our companions for all time! with the highest respect, believe me your friend, a. l." (to president hopkins.) "boston, november , . "my dear friend: my brief letter of introduction by my young friend s., and your answer to it, which i mislaid or lost soon after it came, has made me feel a wish to write every day since the first week after i received yours. s. made me out better than i was when he saw me. i could walk across the rooms, get down and up stairs without much aid, and bear my weight on each foot; having strength in my ankle-bones that enabled me to enter the temple walking, not leaping, but praising god. if ever i am able to walk so far as around the common, what gratitude to god should i feel to take your arm as my support! i am frequently admonished by faint turns that i am merely a 'minute-man,' liable to be called for at any moment. only a few days since, i had a charming call from amin bey and suite, whom i received in my parlors below, where were some friends to meet him. all seemed interested, and amin as much so as a turk ever does. when he left us, i went with him to the door, saw him out and in his carriage, turned to open the inner entry-door, became faint just as m. was leaving the party, and leaned on her to get into the parlor. i was laid on the sofa, insensible for a short time, but, by labor, abstinence, and great care, for two or three days, have got upon my high horse again, and rode with n. to make calls upon the good people of cambridge. after dinner, when i awoke, i tried to go about my work, but was called off again, and, from that time to this, have been up a little, and then down a little; thus asking me, with angels' voices, why are you left here? the answer is plain: you have more work to do. pray, my dear friend, for me to be faithful while my powers are left with me. the reports of and from your college make me feel that my labors in helping it to get on its legs have been repaid four-fold. i am its debtor, and will allow the money out of the next year's income to be used for a telescope, if you deem it best. i have made no further inquiry for the one in progress here, but will ask w. to look and see what progress is making. when i leave off writing, i shall ride to the office in court-square, and deposit my whig vote for governor briggs and the others. we are so mixed up here as hardly to know who are supporters of the regular ticket, and who not. this fugitive-slave business will keep our people excited till the law is blotted out. in some of our best circles the law is pronounced unconstitutional; and my belief is that franklin dexter's argument on that point will settle the question by starting it, our great men to the contrary notwithstanding." in the above letter mr. lawrence speaks of the gratification which he had derived from the results of his efforts in behalf of williams college; and, as there may be no more fitting place to give an account of these efforts, the following record is here introduced, from the pen of president hopkins. it is found in his sermon commemorative of the donor, delivered at the request of the students, on february , . "in october, , the building known as the east college was burned. needy as the institution was before, this rendered necessary an application to the legislature for funds; and, when this failed, to the public at large. owing to a panic in the money market, this application was but slightly responded to, except in this town. in boston the sum raised was less than two thousand dollars; and the largest sum given by any individual was one hundred dollars. this sum was given by mr. lawrence, who was applied to by a friend of the college; and this, it is believed, was the only application ever made to him on our behalf. this directed his attention to the wants of the college; but nothing more was heard from him till january, . at that time, i was delivering a course of the lowell lectures, in boston, when his son, mr. amos a. lawrence, called and informed me that his father had five thousand dollars which he wished to place at the disposal of the college. as i was previously but slightly acquainted with mr. lawrence, and had had no conversation with him on the subject, this was to me an entire surprise; and, embarrassed as the institution then was by its debt for the new buildings, the relief and encouragement which it brought to my own mind, and to the minds of others, friends of the college, can hardly be expressed. still, this did not wholly remove the debt. on hearing this casually mentioned, he said, if he had known how we were situated, he thought he should have given us more; and the following july, without another word on the subject, he sent me a check for five thousand dollars. this put the college out of debt, and added two or three thousand dollars to its available funds. in january, , he wrote, saying he wished to see me; and, on meeting him, he said his object was to consult me about the disposition of ten thousand dollars, which he proposed to give the college. he wished to know how i thought it would do the most good. i replied, at once, by being placed at the disposal of the trustees, to be used at their discretion. he said, 'very well;' and that was all that passed on that point. so i thought; and, knowing his simplicity of character, and singleness of purpose, i felt no embarrassment in making that reply. here was a beautiful exemplification of the precept of the apostle, 'he that giveth, let him do it with simplicity.' such a man had a right to have, for one of his mottoes, 'deeds, not words.' this was just what was needed; but it gave us some breadth and enlargement, and was a beginning in what it had long been felt must, sooner or later, be undertaken,--the securing of an available fund suitable as a basis for such an institution. his next large gift was the library. this came from his asking me, as i was riding with him the following winter, if we wanted anything. nothing occurred to me at the time, and i replied in the negative; but, the next day, i remembered that the trustees had voted to build a library, provided the treasurer should find it could be done for twenty-five hundred dollars. this i mentioned to him. he inquired what i supposed it would cost. i replied, 'five thousand dollars.' he said, at once, 'i will give it.' with his approbation, the plan of a building was subsequently adopted that would cost seven thousand dollars; and he paid that sum. a year or two subsequently, he inquired of me the price of tuition here, saying he should like to connect groton academy with williams college; and he paid two thousand dollars to establish four scholarships for any one who might come from that institution. his next gift was the telescope, which cost about fifteen hundred dollars. the history of this would involve some details which i have not now time to give. in , accompanied by mrs. lawrence, he made a visit here. this was the first time either of them had seen the place. in walking over the grounds, he said they had great capabilities, but that we needed more land; and authorized the purchase of an adjoining piece of four acres. this purchase was made for one thousand dollars; and, if the college can have the means of laying it out, and adorning it suitably, it will, besides furnishing scope for exercise, be a fit addition of the charms of culture to great beauty of natural scenery. in addition to these gifts, he has, at different times, enriched the library with costly books, of the expense of which i know nothing. almost everything we have in the form of art was given by him. in december, , i received a letter from him, dated the d, or 'forefathers' day,' which enclosed one hundred dollars, to be used for the aid of needy students in those emergencies which often arise. this was entirely at his own suggestion; and nothing could have been more timely or appropriate in an institution like this, where so many young men are struggling to make their own way. since that time, he has furnished me with at least one hundred dollars annually for that purpose; and he regarded the expenditure with much interest. thus, in different ways, mr. lawrence had given to the college between thirty and forty thousand dollars; and he had expressed the purpose, if he should live, of aiding it still further. understanding as he did the position and wants of this college, he sympathized fully with the trustees in their purpose to raise the sum of fifty thousand dollars, and, at the time of his death, was exerting a most warm-hearted and powerful influence for its accomplishment. in reference to this great effort, we feel that a strong helper is taken away. the aid which mr. lawrence thus gave to the college was great and indispensable; and probably no memorial of him will be more enduring than what he has done here. by this, being dead, he yet speaks, and will continue to speak in all coming time. from him will flow down enjoyment and instruction to those who shall walk these grounds, and look at the heavens through this telescope, and read the books gathered in this library, and hear instruction from teachers sustained, wholly or in part, by his bounty. probably he could not have spent this money more usefully; and there is reason to believe that he could have spent it in no way to bring to himself more enjoyment. the prosperity of the college was a source of great gratification to him; and he said, more than once, that he had been many times repaid for what he had done here. that he should have thus done what he did unsolicited, and that he--and, i may add, his family--should have continued to find in it so much of satisfaction, is most grateful to my own feelings, and must be so to every friend of the college. in doing it, he seemed to place himself in the relation, not so much of a patron of the college, as of a sympathizer and helper in a great and good work." chapter xxxiii. letters.--diary. at the beginning of the year , mr. lawrence writes to president hopkins: "the closing of the old year was like our western horizon after sunset, bright and beautiful; the opening of the new, radiant with life, light, and hope, and crowned with such a costume of love as few old fathers, grandfathers, and uncles, can muster; in short, my old sleigh is the pet of the season, and rarely appears without being well filled, outside and inside. it is a teacher to the school-children, no less than to my grandchildren; for they all understand that, if they are well-behaved, they can ride with me when i make the signal; and i have a strong persuasion that this attention to them, with a present of a book and a kind word now and then, makes the little fellows think more of their conduct and behavior. at any rate, it does me good to hear them call out, 'how do you do, mr. lawrence?' as i am driving along the streets and by-ways of the city." * * * to an aged clergyman in the country, who was blind and in indigent circumstances, he writes: "jan. . "your letter of last week reached me on saturday, and was indeed a sunbeam, which quickened me to do what i had intended for a 'happy new-year,' before receiving yours. i trust you will have received a parcel sent by railroad, on monday, directed to you, and containing such things as i deemed to be useful in your family; and i shall be more than paid, if they add one tint to the 'purple light' you speak of, that opens upon your further hopes of visiting us the coming season. for many months i was unable to walk; but my feet and ankle-bones have now received strength. i feel that the prayers of friends have been answered by my renewed power to do more work. how, then, can i enjoy life better than by distributing the good things intrusted to me among those who are comforted by receiving them? so you need not feel, my friend, that you are any more obliged than i am. the enclosed bank-bills may serve to fit up the materials for use; at any rate, will not be out of place in your pocket. i trust to see you again in this world, which has to me so many interesting connecting links between the first and only time i have ever seen you (thirty-five or more years ago, in dr. huntington's pulpit, old south church) and the present." (from rev. james hamilton, d.d.) " gower-street, london, feb. , . "my dear sir: no letter which authorship has brought to me ever gave me such pleasure as i received from yours of july, , enclosing one which governor briggs had written to you. that strangers so distinguished should take such interest in my writings, and should express yourselves so kindly towards myself, overwhelmed me with a pleasing surprise, and with thankfulness to god who had given me such favor. i confess, too, it helped to make me love more the country which has always been to me the dearest next to my own. in conjunction with some much-prized friendships which i have formed among your ministers, it would almost tempt me to cross the atlantic. but i am so bad a sailor that i fear i must postpone personal intercourse with those american friends who do not come to england, until we reach the land where there is no more sea. however feebly expressed, please accept my heartfelt thanks for all the cost and trouble you have incurred in circulating my publications. it is pleasant to me to think that your motive in distributing them, in the first instance, could not be friendship for the author; and to both of us it will be the most welcome result, if they promote the cause of practical christianity. owing to weakness in the throat and chest, i cannot preach so much as many of my neighbors, and therefore i feel the more anxious that my tracts should do something for the honor of the saviour and the welfare of mankind. you were kind enough to reprint my last lecture to young men. i could scarcely wish the same distinction bestowed on its successor, because it is a fragment. i have some thoughts of extending it into a short exposition of ecclesiastes, which is a book well suited to the times, and but little understood. * * * "yours, most truly, james hamilton." [illustration: abbott lawrence print. by r. andrews.] in reply to the above letter, mr. lawrence writes, april : "i will not attempt to express to you in words my pleasure in receiving your letter of feb. , with its accompaniments. the lecture delivered to the young men on the th of february, although designated by you as a fragment, i sent to my friend, with a copy of your letter, asking him whether he would advise its publication, and whether he would scatter it with its predecessor; and, if so, i would pay the expense. his answer you have here, and i have the pleasure of saying that the 'fragment' will be ready to circulate by thousands the present week; and, when you shall have added your further comments upon solomon and his works, our american tract society will be ready to publish the whole by hundreds of thousands, i trust, thus enabling you to preach through our whole country. the memoir of lady colquhon is a precious jewel, which i shall keep among my treasures to leave my descendants. i had previously purchased a number of copies of the american edition, and scattered them among my friends, so that there is great interest to see your copy sent me. the part of your letter which touched my heart most was that in which you speak of my brother abbott, and say of him that 'no foreign minister is such a favorite with the british public.' it brought him before me like a daguerreotype likeness, through every period of his life for fifty years. first, as the guiding spirit of the boys of our neighborhood, in breaking through the deep snow-drifts which often blocked up the roads in winter; then as my apprentice in the city; and, in a few years, as the young military champion, to watch night and day, under arms, on the point of bunker hill nearest the ocean, the movements of a british fleet lying within four or five miles of him, and threatening the storming of boston; then, soon after, as embarking in the very first ship for england, after the close of the war, to purchase goods, which were received here in eighty-three days after he sailed. since that time, our firm has never been changed, except by adding '& co.,' when other partners were admitted. he has been making his way to the people's respect and affection from that time to this, and now fills the only public station i would not have protested against his accepting, feeling that _place_ cannot impart _grace_. my prayers ascend continually for him, that he may do his work under the full impression that he must give an account to him whose eye is constantly upon him, and whose 'well done' will be infinitely better than all things else. i believe he is awakening an interest to learn more about this country; and the people will be amazed to see what opportunities are here enjoyed for happiness for the great mass. what we most fear is _that_ ignorance which will bring everything down to its own level, instead of that true knowledge, which shall level up the lowest places, now inundated with foreign emigrants. our duty is plain; and, if we do not educate and elevate this class of our people they will change our system of government within fifty years. virtue and intelligence are the basis of this government; and the duty of all good men is to keep it pure. * * * "and now, my friend, what can i say that will influence you to come here, and enjoy with me the beautiful scenes upon and around our mount zion? "with the highest respect and affection, i am most truly yours, "amos lawrence. "p. s.--mrs. l. desires me to present to you and your lady her most respectful regard, with the assurance that your writings are very precious to her. she is a granddaughter to a clergyman of your 'kirk,' and enjoys much its best writings." to the same gentleman he writes soon after: "and now let me speak about the 'royal preacher.'[ ] i expected much, but not so much as i found in it. we, on this side the atlantic, thank you; and the pictures of some of our own great men are drawn to the life, although their history and character could not have been in your eye. truth is the same now as in solomon's time; and it is surprising that the mass of men do not see and acknowledge that 'the saint is greater than the sage, and discipleship to jesus the pinnacle of human dignity.' i have had, this morning, two calls, from different sections of our union, for your 'life in earnest,' 'literary attractions of the bible,' 'solomon,' 'redeemed in glory,' &c., which i responded to with hearty good-will. some of the books will go out of the country many thousand miles, and will do good. i must shake hands with you across the atlantic, if you can't 'screw up' your courage to come here, and bid you god-speed in all your broad plans for the good of your fellow-men. "i have a great respect for deep religious feelings, even when i cannot see as my friends do; and therefore pray god to clear away, in his good time, all that is now dark and veiled. "it is time for me to say farewell." [ ] a tract by dr. hamilton. chapter xxxiv. sir t. f. buxton.--letter from lady buxton.--elliott cresson.--letters. after the death of sir thomas fowell buxton, mr. lawrence had read what had been published respecting his life and character, and had formed an exalted opinion of his labors in behalf of the african race. a small volume had been issued, entitled "a study for young men, or a sketch of sir t. f. buxton," by rev. t. binney, of london. mr. lawrence had purchased and circulated large numbers of this work, which recorded the deeds of one upon whom he considered the mantle of wilberforce to have fallen; and, through a mutual friend, he had been made known to lady buxton, who writes to him as follows: "very, very grateful am i for your love for him, and, through him, to me and my children. i desire that you may be enriched by all spiritual blessings; and that, through languor and illness and infirmity, the lord may bless and prosper you and the work of your hands. i beg your acceptance of the third edition, in the large octavo, of the memoir of sir fowell." those who have read the memoir referred to will remember the writer, before her marriage, as miss hannah gurney, a member of that distinguished family of friends of which mrs. fry was the elder sister. during the remaining short period of mr. lawrence's life, a pleasant correspondence was kept up, from which a few extracts will hereafter be given. to elliott cresson, of philadelphia, the enthusiastic and veteran champion of the colonization cause, mr. lawrence writes, june , : "my dear old friend cresson: i have just re-read your kind letter of june , and have been feasting upon the treasure you sent me in the interesting volume entitled 'africa redeemed.' i will set your heart at rest at once by assuring you that i feel just as you do towards that land. do you remember visiting me, a dozen or more years ago, to get me to lead off with a thousand-dollar subscription for colonization, and my refusing by assuring you that i would not interfere with the burden of slavery, then pressing on our own slave states, until requested by them? * * * * liberia, in the mean time, has gone on, and now promises to be to the black man what new england has been to the pilgrims, and pennsylvania to the friends. i say, with all my heart, to gov. roberts and his associates, god speed you, and carry onward and upward the glorious work of redeeming africa! i had a charming message from a young missionary in africa a few days since,--the rev. mr. hoffman, of the episcopal mission; and you will be glad to hear that the good work of education for liberia progresses surely and steadily here. my son a. is one of the trustees and directors (prof. greenleaf is president), and has given a thousand dollars from 'a young merchant;' and i bid him give another thousand from 'an old merchant,' which he will do as soon as he returns from our old home with his family. now i say to you, my friend, i can sympathize and work with you while i am spared. god be praised! we are greatly favored in many things. no period of my life has been more joyous. "with constant affection, i am yours, "amos lawrence." among other memoranda of the present month is found a cancelled note of five hundred dollars, which had been given by a clergyman in another state to a corporation, which, by reason of various misfortunes, he had not been able to pay. mr. lawrence had heard of the circumstance, and, without the knowledge of the clergyman, had sent the required sum to the treasurer of the corporation, with directions to cancel the obligation. (to lady buxton.) "boston, july , . "dear lady buxton: your letter, and the beautiful copy of the memoir of your revered and world-wide honored husband, reached me on the th of june. i have read and re-read your heart-touching note with an interest you can understand better than i can describe. i can say that i thank you, and leave you to imagine the rest. sir fowell was born the same year, and in the same month, that i was; and his character and his labors i have been well acquainted with since he came into public life; and no man of his time stood higher in my confidence and respect. although i have never been in public life, i have been much interested in public men; and have sometimes had my confidence abused, but have generally given it to men who said what they meant, and did what they said. i feel no respect for the demagogue, however successful he may be; but am able to say, with the dear and honored friend whose mantle fell upon sir fowell, 'what shadows we are, and what shadows we pursue!' i feel pity for the man who sacrifices his hopes of heaven for such vain objects as end in the mere gaze of this world. the 'study for young men,' republished here a short time since, is doing such work among us as must cheer the spirit of your husband in his heavenly home. "i enclose you a note from laura bridgman, a deaf, dumb, and blind girl, who has been educated at our asylum for the last twelve years or more (now about twenty-two years old), which may interest you from the fact of her extraordinary situation. "with great respect, i remain most truly yours, "amos lawrence." (to a lady in philadelphia.) "dear l.: your call on me to 'pay up' makes me feel that i had forgotten, and therefore neglected, my promise. i begin without preface. when a child, and all the way up to fifty years of age, the incidents of revolutionary history were so often talked over by the old soldiers who made our house their rendezvous whenever they came near it, that i feel as if i had been an actor in the scenes described. among these, the battle of bunker hill was more strongly impressed upon my mind than any other event. my father, then twenty-one years old, was in captain farwell's company, a subaltern, full of the right spirit, as you may know, having some sparks left when you used to ride on his sled and in his wagon, and eat his 'rattle apples,' which were coveted by all the children. he was in the breastwork; and his captain was shot through the body just before or just after pitcairn was shot. my father did not know major pitcairn personally, but understood it was he who mounted the breastwork, calling to his soldiers to follow, when he pitched into the slight trench outside, riddled and dead, as my father always thought as long as he lived. but it turned out otherwise. he was brought from the field, and lodged in a house in prince-street, now standing (the third from charlestown bridge); and the intelligence was immediately communicated to the governor, then in the royal house, now called the province house. he sent dr. kast and an officer, accompanied by young bowdoin as an amateur, to see to the major, and report. on entering the chamber, the doctor wished to examine the wound; but pitcairn declined allowing him, saying it was of no use, as he should soon die. when pressed by the argument that his excellency desired it, he allowed dr. kast to open his vest, and the blood, which had been stanched, spirted out upon the floor; so that the room carried the mark, and was called 'pitcairn's chamber' until long after the peace. the doctor returned immediately to the governor to report; and, before he could get back, life had fled. he was laid out in his regimentals, and was deposited in the vault of st. george's church, now the stone chapel, and there remained until , when dr. winship, of roxbury, then on a visit to london, had occasion to call on dr. c. letsom, and informed him that he had in his possession the key of the vault; that he had examined the body, which was in so good a state of preservation, that he recognized the features; and that he had counted at least thirty marks of musket-balls in various parts of the body. an arrangement was made, through dr. winship, for the removal of the body to england. dr. william pitcairn built a vault in the burying-ground of st. bartholomew, near the hospital, for its reception. capt. james scott, the commander of a trading vessel between boston and london at that period, undertook the service of removal, although he foresaw difficulty in undertaking the business, on account of the strong prejudice of sailors to having a corpse on board. with a view to concealment, the coffin was enclosed in a square deal case, containing the church-organ, which was to be sent to england for repairs. this case, with 'organ' inscribed upon it, was placed, as it was said, for better security, in a part of the ship near the sailors' berths, and in that situation was used occasionally during the passage for their seat or table. on arrival of the ship in the river, an order was obtained for the landing of the case; and, as it was necessary to describe its contents, the order expressed permission to land a corpse. this revealed the stratagem of capt. scott, and raised such a feeling among the sailors as to show that they would not have been quiet had they known the truth respecting their fellow-lodger. major pitcairn was the only british officer particularly regarded by our citizens, as ready to listen to their complaints, and, as far as in his power, to relieve them, when not impeded by his military duties. our excellent old friend b. will be interested in the 'stone chapel' part of this story, and probably can add particulars that i may have omitted. "your affectionate amos lawrence." chapter xxxv. letters--rev. dr. scoresby.--wabash college. after receiving a note from a relative of lady colebrooke, announcing her death, at dunscombe, in the island of barbadoes, mr. lawrence wrote the following note of sympathy to her husband, sir william colebrooke, then governor of that island. she will be remembered as the lady who had formerly visited boston, and who was alluded to in one of his letters, as a niece of major andré: "dear sir william: i lose no time in expressing to you the feelings of my heart, on reading the brief notice of the last hours of dear lady colebrooke. all my recollections and associations of her are of the most interesting character; and for yourself i feel more than a common regard. we may never meet again in this world; but it matters little, if, when we are called off, we are found 'in line,' and ready to receive the cheering 'well done' when we reach that better world we hope for. i trust that you, and all your dear ones, have been in the hollow of our father's hand, through the shadings of his face from you; and that, in his own good time, all will be cleared away. "faithfully and respectfully yours, amos lawrence. "boston, aug. , ." (to the hon. charles b. haddock, minister of the united states to portugal.) "boston, aug. , . "dear and kind-hearted friend: your letters to me before leaving the country, and after reaching england, awakened many tender remembrances of times past, and agreeable hopes of times to come. in that, i felt as though i had you by the hand, with that encouraging 'go forward' in the fear of god, and confidence in his fatherly care and guidance. i know your views have always put this trust at the head of practical duties, and that you will go forward in your present duties, and do better service to the country than any man who could be sent. portugal is a sealed book, in a great degree, to us. who so able to unlock and lay open its history as yourself? now, then, what leisure you have may be most profitably applied to the spreading out the treasures before us; and, my word for it, your reputation as a writer and a thinker will make whatever you may publish of this sort desirable to be read by the great mass of our reading population. * * * * * "i hold that god has given us our highest enjoyments, in every period, from childhood to old age, in the exercise of our talents and our feelings with reference to his presence and oversight; and that, at any moment, he may call us off, and that we may thus be left to be among the children of light or of darkness, according to his word and our preparation. these enjoyments of childhood, of middle age, of mature life, and of old age, are all greatly increased by a constant reference to the source from whence they come; and the danger of great success in life is more to be feared, in our closing account, than anything else. a brief space will find us in the earth, and of no further consequence than as we shall have marked for good the generation of men growing up to take our places. the title of an honest man, who feared god, is worth more than all the honors and distinction of the world. pray, let me hear from you, and the dear lady, whom i hope to escort once more over the sides of our mount zion, and introduce to some of my children and grandchildren settled upon the borders; and, if any stranger coming this way from you will accept such facilities as i can give to our institutions, i shall gladly render them. it is now many years since i have sat at table with my family, and i am now better than i have been at any time during that period; in short, i am light-hearted as a child, and enjoy the children's society with all the zest of early days. i must say, 'god speed you, my friend,' and have you constantly in the hollow of his hand! in all kind remembrances, mrs. l. joins me, to your lady and yourself. "faithfully and respectfully your friend, "amos lawrence." on the same day that the preceding letter was penned, mr. lawrence, in acknowledgment of some work sent to him by the rev. dr. scoresby, of bradford, england, wrote the following letter. that gentleman had visited this country twice, and had made many friends in boston. once an arctic traveller, and a man of great scientific acquirement, he has now become an eminent and active clergyman in the church of england, and has devoted all his energies to the task of elevating the lower orders of the population where his field of labor has been cast. "boston, aug. , . "my dear friend: your letter from torquay, of ninth july, reached me on the sixth of this month. it brought to memory our agreeable intercourse of former years, and cheered me with the hope that i might again see you in this world, and again shake your hand in that cordial, social way that goes direct to the heart. i had been much interested in the account brought by ----, and in your kind messages by him. your memorials of your father interest me exceedingly, and i thank you most sincerely for the volume and the sermon you sent. this sermon i sent to a friend of mine, and also a friend of yours, who became such after hearing you preach in liverpool. professor ----, of ---- college, is a most talented, efficient, and popular teacher; and his present position he has attained by his industry and his merit. he was a poor youth, in liverpool, who followed you in your preaching; came here, and went as an apprentice to a mechanical business; was noticed as a bright fellow; was educated by persons assisting him, and graduated at ---- college. he became a tutor, and is now a professor, and is an honor to the college and his nation. we are all at work in new england, and now feel a twinge from too fast driving in some branches of business; but, in the aggregate, our country is rapidly advancing in wealth, power, and strength, notwithstanding the discontent of our southern brethren. we have allowed the 'black spot' to be too far spread over our land; it should have been restrained more than thirty years ago, and then our old slave states would have had no just cause of complaint. i am called off, and must bid you farewell, with kind regards of mrs. l., and my own most faithful and affectionate remembrance. amos lawrence. "rev. william scoresby, d.d., torquay, devonshire, eng." (to president hopkins.) "boston, nov. , . "my dear friend: this is a rainy day, which keeps me housed; and, to improve it in 'pursuit,' i have a bundle made up, of the size of a small 'haycock,' and directed to you by railroad, with a few lines enclosed for the amusement of the children. i have told a. and l. that they couldn't jump over it; but h. could, by having a clear course of two rods. louis dwight has spent a half-hour with me this morning, exhibiting and explaining his plan for the new lunatic asylum of the state, which i think is the best model i have ever seen, and is a decided improvement on all our old ones. the committee, of which governor briggs is chairman, will give it a careful consideration and comparison with dr. bell's, and perhaps dr. butler's and others; and, with such an amount of talent and experience, the new asylum will be the best, i trust, that there is on this side of the atlantic. louis dwight is in fine spirits, and in full employ in his peculiar line. the new institution in new york for vagrant children will very likely be built on his plan. he is really doing his work most successfully, in classing and separating these young sinners, so that they may be reclaimed, and trained to become useful citizens; in that light, he is a public benefactor. * * * "faithfully and affectionately yours, "amos lawrence." in a letter to a friend, written on sunday, and within a few days of the preceding, mr. lawrence says, after describing one of his severe attacks: "i am not doing wrong, i think, in consecrating a part of the day to you, being kept within doors by one of those kindly admonitions which speaks through the body, and tells me that my home here is no shelter from the storm. i had been unusually well for some weeks past, and it seemed to me that my days passed with a rapidity and joyousness that nothing short of the intercourse with the loved ones around me could have caused. what can be more emphatic, until my final summons? if my work is done, and well done, i should not dread the summons; pray that it may be, and that we may meet again after a brief separation. i am hoping to be safely housed by and by where cold and heat, splendid furniture, luxurious living, and handsome houses, and attendants, will all be thought of as they really merit." mr. lawrence had, for a considerable time, been interested in the wabash college, at crawfordsville, indiana; and, on the th of november, announced to the trustees a donation from mrs. l. of twelve hundred dollars, to found four free scholarships for the use of the academy at groton. he adds: "i would recommend that candidates for the scholarships who abstain from the use of intoxicating drinks and tobacco always have a preference. this is not to be taken as a prohibition, but only as a condition to give a preference." mr. lawrence speaks of his interest in wabash college, growing out of his affection and respect for its president, the rev. charles white, d.d., who went from new england, and with whom he had become acquainted during a visit which that gentleman had made to his native state. eight days after this donation to wabash college, mr. lawrence enclosed to rev. dr. pond, of the theological school at bangor, maine, the sum of five hundred dollars; which he says, with other sums already subscribed by others for new professorships, would "prove a great blessing to all who resort to the institution through all time." chapter xxxvi. diary.--amount of charities.--letters.--thomas tarbell.--uncle toby.--rev. dr. lowell. "_january , ._--the value of my property is somewhat more than it was a year ago, and i pray god that i may be faithful in its use. my life seems now more likely to be spared for a longer season than for many years past; and i never enjoyed myself more highly. praise the lord, o my soul! "p. s.--the outgoes for all objects since january , (ten years), have been six hundred and four thousand dollars more than five sixths of which have been applied in making other people happy; and it is no trouble to find objects for all i have to spare." this sum, in addition to the subscriptions and donations for the year , makes the amount of his expenditures for charitable purposes, during the last eleven years of his life, to be about five hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars. from to , the sum expended for like appropriations was, according to his memoranda, one hundred and fourteen thousand dollars; making, for the last twenty-three years of his life the sum of six hundred and thirty-nine thousand dollars expended in charity. taking the amount of his property at various times, as noted by himself, from the year to , a period of twenty-two years, with his known liberality and habits of systematic charity, it would be safe to assert that during his life he expended seven hundred thousand dollars for the benefit of his fellow-men. many persons have done more; but few perhaps have done as much in proportion to the means which they had to bestow. in a letter to president hopkins, dated march , mr. lawrence writes: "i am interested in everything you write about in your last letter; but among the items of deepest interest is the fact of the religious feeling manifested by the young men; and i pray god it may take deep root, and grow, and become the controlling power in forming their character for immortality. i trust they will count the cost, and act consistently. may god speed them in this holy work!" a few days later, he writes on the same subject: "and now let us turn to matters of more importance; the awakening of the young men of your college to their highest interest,--the salvation of their souls. i have been moved to tears in reading the simple statement of the case, and i pray god to perfect the good work thus begun. i have much to think of to-day, this being my sixty-sixth birth-day. the question comes home to me, what i am rendering to the lord for all his benefits; and the answer of conscience is, imperfect service. if accepted, it will be through mercy; and, with this feeling of hope, i keep about, endeavoring to scatter good seed as i go forth in my daily ministrations." the following correspondence was not received in time to be placed in the order of its date, but is now given as an illustration of mr. lawrence's views on some important points, and also as an instance of his self-control. in the autumn of , he became acquainted with the rev. dr. ----, a scotch presbyterian clergyman, then on a visit to some friends in boston. during a drive in the environs, with this gentleman and the rev. dr. blagden, mr. lawrence made a remark of a practical nature upon some religious topic, which did not coincide with the views of his scotch friend; and a debate ensued, which was characterized by somewhat more of warmth than was warranted by the nature of the subject. mutual explanations and apologies followed, and the correspondence, which was continued after the return of dr. ---- to scotland, shows that the discussion on the occasion referred to had caused no diminution of their mutual regard or good-will. the rev. dr. blagden, in a note to the editor, dated boston, april , , writes as follows: "as the result of our incidental conversation on monday last, let me say, that the facts of which we spoke occurred during a drive which the rev. dr. ----, of scotland, and i were enjoying with your father, in his carriage, at his kind invitation, in october, . "without being able to recall the precise connection in which the remarks were made, i only now remember that mr. lawrence was led to speak with some degree of warmth, but with entire kindness, on the great error of relying on any idea of justification before god by faith, without corresponding works; so that, to one not familiar with the religious events in the history of this community, which, by operating on mr. lawrence's habits of thought, might well lead him to be jealous of any view of faith which did not directly express the necessity of good works, his remarks might very readily have seemed like a direct attack on that great truth of justification by faith, which luther affirmed to be, as it was held or rejected, the test of a falling or rising church. "immediately, that which the late edward irving, in one of his sermons, under the name of 'orations,' calls the 'ingenium perfervidum scotorum,' burst from the rev. dr. ----, with something of that zeal for the doctrines of knox and calvin for which i understand he has been somewhat remarkable in his own country. he vehemently declared his abhorrence of any such denial of the first and fundamental truth of the gospel, evidently taking it somewhat in the light of an insult to us as the preachers of that truth. he ended by saying, with much force and warmth, that the apostle paul sometimes condensed the whole of the gospel into a single phrase; and one of these phrases, as expressed in the epistle to the philippians, he commended to the notice of mr. lawrence, namely, 'we are the circumcision which worship god in the spirit; and rejoice in christ jesus, and have no confidence in the flesh.' "mr. lawrence met this strong, and apparently indignant and truly honest expression of feeling, with entire courtesy and self-command, but with evident and deep emotion; and, repressing all expression of displeasure, he gradually led the conversation to less unwelcome subjects, so that our ride ended pleasantly, though the embarrassment created by this event continued, in a lessening degree, to its close. "it will probably add to the interest of the whole transaction, in your own mind, if i state, not only what you seemed aware of on monday, that your father sent me, a day or two after, 'barr's help' (i believe is the name of the volume), with a very kind and polite note, alluding to what had passed, and a paper containing some development of his own religious belief; but rev. dr. ----, also, soon after, in alluding to the circumstances in a note to me, on another subject, and which is now before me, wrote: "'i regret the warmth with which i did so. alas! it is my infirmity; but it was only a momentary flash, for i was enabled, through a silent act of prayer, to get my mind purged of all heat, before i ventured to resume the conversation on the vital topic which our good and kind friend himself was led to introduce.' "i suspect this will reach you at an hour too late entirely for the use which you thought might possibly be made of it. it may, however, have some little interest, as a further development of the excellent character of your father; and it refers to a scene of which i have never been in the habit of speaking to others, but which i shall always remember with great interest, as one among many pleasing and profitable recollections of him." the following extracts are taken from the paper referred to in the preceding communication: "boston, november , . "to rev. g. w. blagden, d.d. "rev. and dear sir: our interesting ride last thursday has peculiar claims upon me as a teacher and a preacher for a better world. to one who knows me well, my unceremonious manner to our friend would not seem so strange; but it was none the less unkind in me to treat him thus. "my first impressions are generally the right ones, and govern the actions of daily and hourly experience here; and these impressions were entirely favorable to our friend; and my treatment, up to the moment that you 'poured your oil upon the waters,' had been such as i am now well pleased with. but the conversation then commenced; and the lecture, illustrations, arguments, and consequences, were all stereotyped in my mind, having been placed there twenty-seven years ago by a learned and pious scotchman, whose character came back to my memory like a flash of light. it is enough to say that a multitude of matters wholly adverse to my first impressions left me no command of my courtesies; and i stopped the conversation. * * * "i believe that our saviour came among men to do them good, and, having performed his mission, has returned to his father and to our father, to his god and our god; and if, by any means, he will receive me as a poor and needy sinner with the 'well done' into the society of those whom he shall have accepted, i care not what sort of _ism_ i am ranked under here. "there is much, i think, that may be safely laid aside among christians who are honest, earnest, and self-denying. again i say, i have no hope in _isms_, but have strong hope in the cross of christ. "the little book[ ] i send is a fuller exposition of the kirk's doctrine than our friend's. i have reviewed it, and see no reason to alter a prayer or an expression. return it at your leisure, with the two notes of our friend to me since our drive. soon after i left you, i came home, sat down at my table to write a note as an apology to him for my rudeness in stopping his discourse, fainted, went to bed; next day, ate three ounces of crusts, rode out, and went to bed sick with a cold in my face. for the following forty-eight hours, i did not take an ounce of food; the slightest amount of liquid sustained me; and yesterday was the first day of my being a man. to-day, i called to see and apologize to you." * * * * * [ ] "help to professing christians. by rev. john barr. published by perkins and marvin. boston, ." (to a friend in south carolina.) "boston, june , . "my dear friend: the announcement of the death of your beloved wife, and the queries and suggestions you made, touched me in a tender place. you and your dear wife are separated, it is true; but she is in the upper room, you in the lower. she is with jesus, where, with his disciples, he keeps the feast; and, not long hence, he will say to you, 'come up hither.' your spirit and hers meet daily at the same throne,--hers to praise, yours to pray; and, when you next join her in person, it will be to part no more. is not the prospect such as to gild the way with all those charms, which, in our childhood, used to make our hours pass too slowly? * * * * * "my connection with the people of your state, growing out of my marriage, has brought me into personal intercourse, for more than thirty years past, with a great family connection, embracing in its circle many of your distinguished characters. all the m. family, of whom your present governor is one, came from the same stock; and the various ramifications of that family at the south include, i suppose, a great many thousand souls. i, therefore take a lively interest in everything interesting to your people. we have hot heads, and so have you; but i think your people misjudge, when they think of setting up an independent government. the peculiar institution which is so dear to them will never be interfered with by sober, honest men; but will never be allowed to be carried where it is not now, under the federal government. politicians, like horse-jockeys, strive to cover up wind-broken constitutions, as though in full health; but hard driving reveals the defect, and, within thirty years, the old slave states will feel compelled to send their chattels away to save themselves from bankruptcy and starvation. i have never countenanced these abolition movements at the north; and have lately lent a hand to the cause of colonization, which is destined to make a greater change in the condition of the blacks than any event since the christian era. * * * "you need no new assurance of my interest in, and respect for, yourself, and the loved ones around you. i enjoy life as few old men do, i believe; for my family seem to live around and for me. my nephew by marriage, franklin pierce, seems to be a prominent candidate for the 'white house' for the next four years. he is the soul of honor, and an old-fashioned democrat, born and bred, and to be depended on as such; but, as i am an old-fashioned george washington, john jay federalist, from my earliest days, and hope to continue to be, i shall prefer one of this stamp to him. * * * "with a heart overflowing, i hardly know where to stop. we shall meet in the presence of the saviour, if we hold fast to the hem of his garment; and i hope may be of the number of those whose sins are forgiven. "ever yours, amos lawrence." during the summer, a small volume appeared, entitled "uncle toby's stories on tobacco." mr. lawrence read it; and the views there inculcated so nearly coincided with his own, so often expressed during his whole life, that he caused two editions, of some thousands of copies, to be published and circulated, principally by the boys of the mather school. on this subject, he writes to president hopkins, under date of aug. : "my two last scraps told their own stories to the children, and to-day you will receive a package by express that may require explanation. uncle toby has hit the nail on the head in telling his tobacco stories to american lads; and i think your students will do good service in carrying them among their friends wherever they are, to show them how much better it is to prevent an evil than to remedy it; and, taking school-boys as they are, these stories will do more good than any that have been published. i met the author yesterday accidentally at the american sabbath school union depository, where i had just paid for the fifty copies sent to you, and he was very earnest to have me write a few lines for him to publish in his book; but i referred him to the three hundred boys of the mather school, who are full of the matter to help other school-boys to do as they are doing. however, i may say to him, that, as a school-boy, i was anxious to be _manly_, like the larger boys; and, by the advice of one, i took a quid, and kept it till i was very sick, but did not tell my parents what the matter was; and, from that time to this, have never chewed, smoked, or snuffed. to this abstinence from its use (and from spirit) i owe, under god, my present position in society. further, i have always given the preference to such persons as i have employed, for more than forty years past, who have avoided rum and tobacco; and my experience has been such as to confirm me that it is true wisdom to have done so. the evil is growing in a fearfully rapid ratio among us; and requires the steady course of respected and honored men to prevent its spread, by influencing the school-children of our land against becoming its slaves. you will please use the fifty copies in the way you think best. if my life is spared, the mather school boys will be allowed to tell their own experience to the boys of all the other public schools in this city and neighborhood. in short, i look to these boys influencing three millions of boys within the next thirty or forty years. is not this work worth looking after?" the following well-merited tribute to the character of a respected citizen, who devoted his life to the promotion of every good object, is extracted from a note written by mr. lawrence to the hon. benjamin seaver, then mayor of the city, and dated aug. : "my friend seaver: i have desired, for some weeks past, to inquire of you some further particulars of the disposition our friend tarbell[ ] made of his property. you mentioned that something would be paid over to a. & a. lawrence, and something to the old ladies' home, which institution he helped forward by his labors and his influence, in an important stage of its existence; and he was called off just as he was beginning to enjoy the fruits of his labor, in making a multitude of old ladies happy in thus supplying them a home for the remainder of their days on earth. our friend has passed on; but i doubt not that his labors have prepared him to enter that world where there is no weariness or want, and all sufferings are at an end. i have journeyed side by side, for more than three-score years, with our friend; and can say, with truth, that i never knew him guilty of a dishonest or dishonorable act, and that his life was a practical exponent of his christian principles. i pray to our father to make me more faithful in doing the work our friend had so much at heart, while i can do it. my share of the money,[ ] coming from his estate, i shall wish paid over to the old ladies' home, and i doubt not brother a. will wish the same done with his share. this appropriation will increase our friend's happiness, even in his heavenly home; for the voice from heaven proclaims, 'blessed are the dead which die in the lord from henceforth; that they may rest from their labors, and their works do follow them.'" [ ] the late thomas tarbell, originally from groton, mass. [ ] this was a debt contracted by mr. t., in , amounting, at that time, to about fifteen hundred dollars, when he failed in business. the amount of the debt was soon after transferred to the "old ladies' home." the editor feels some delicacy in inserting the following, from a gentleman still living, and in our own vicinity; but the tribute to mr. lawrence, coming, as it does, from a divine so distinguished in all those qualities which adorn his own profession, as well as for every christian virtue, is too flattering to be omitted: "elmwood, sept. . "my dear friend: i take such paper as happens to be near me, in my sick chamber, to thank you for the books and pamphlets, which i have read as much as my dim sight and weak nerves will allow me at present to read. i wish, when you write to your friend dr. hamilton, you would thank him for me for his eloquent and evangelical appeals for christian truth and duty. tell him i am a congregational minister of boston, but no sectarian; that i was matriculated at the university of edinburgh, fifty years ago, and studied divinity there under drs. hunter, micklejohn, moodie, &c., and moral philosophy, under dugald stewart;--that my particular friends were david dickson, since minister of st. cuthbert's, edinburgh; david wilkie, since minister of old gray friar's church, edinburgh; patrick mcfarlane, since minister in glasgow and greenock; thomas brown, since professor of moral philosophy at edinburgh; david brewster, since sir david, &c.: most of whom he probably knows. tell him i should be glad of his correspondence, as i have that of his friend, principal lee, of the university of edinburgh; and that we should be glad to see him in boston. i was happy to see your name appended to a petition on the subject of the liquor law, though i always expect to find it among the advocates of every benevolent enterprise within your reach. your visit did me much good. i have much valued your friendship, and your manifestations of respect and regard for me. heaven bless you and yours, and make you more and more a blessing! come and see me when you can, my dear friend. with much affection and respect, "your old friend, charles lowell. "p. s.--i write with a feeble hand, dim sight, and nervous temperament." in enclosing the preceding note to the rev. dr. hamilton, mr. lawrence writes, sept. : "the writer of the foregoing is the rev. dr. lowell, of this city, who is broken down in health, but not at all in his confidence and hope and joy in the beloved jesus. of all men i have ever known, dr. lowell is one of the brightest exemplars of the character and teachings of the master; for all denominations respect him, and confide in him. for more than forty years i have known him; and, in all the relations of a good pastor to his people, i have never known a better. i have met him in the sick chamber, with the dying, and in the house of prayer. in the character of a teacher, and a leader of the people heavenward, no one among us has been more valued. although i have not been a member of his church, he has, in times of great urgency, supplied our pulpit, and has always been ready to attend my family and friends when asked. i sent him such of your writings as i had in store for circulation, 'the royal preacher' among them; and i must say to you that i think no living man is preaching to greater multitudes than you are at this day. i have circulated tens of thousands of your tracts and volumes, and, if i am spared, hope to continue the good work. millions of souls will be influenced by your labors." chapter xxxvii. correspondence.--diary. (from lady buxton.) "northrupp's hill, sept. , . "my dear friend: again i have to thank you for your kind remembrance of me in your note and little book on the abuse of tobacco, and your sympathy with me in my late deep anxiety, ending in the removal of my most tenderly beloved and valued daughter priscilla. it pleased god to take her to himself on june , to the inexpressible loss and grief of myself, and her husband and children. we surely sorrow with hope; for she had loved and followed the lord jesus from her childhood, and had known and obeyed the holy scriptures, which did make her, under the influence of the blessed spirit, wise unto salvation. to her, to live was christ, and therefore to die, gain; and we are thankful, and rejoice for her. her spirit is with the lord, beholding and sharing his glory, and reünited to her dearest father, brothers, and sisters, and many beloved on earth, in joy unspeakable. still, we do and are permitted to mourn. * * "priscilla traced the foundation of her illness to the great exertion she used in revising and altering her father's work on the remedy for the slave-trade. the stress upon her feelings and mind was too great for her susceptible nature. i believe it might be traced further back to her very great efforts to assist her father in his public business; so that i may say, i have had to part with the two most beloved, and gifted nearly, i have ever known, for the cause of god. but the comfort is intense that they cannot lose the abundant recompense of reward given through mercy and favor, not for any merits of their own, to those who love and serve the lord. i must thank you most warmly again for the valuable gift of 'uncle tom's cabin.' when it arrived, it was unknown in this country; now it is universally read, but sold at such a cheap rate, in such poor print, that this very beautiful copy is quite sought after. how wonderfully successful a work it has proved! i hope your little book upon tobacco may be of use here. i shall send it to my grandsons at rugby. i fear you have been suffering much from bodily illness and infirmity, my dear friend. i trust your interesting circle about you are all well and prospering, and enjoying the blessing and presence of the saviour. with kindest regards and affection, i am yours very sincerely, h. buxton." "_september , ._--by a singular coincidence, at the same time i received lady buxton's letter, i received one from 'mrs. sunny side,'[ ] from her sick chamber, asking the loan of some of miss edgeworth's works; also a note from mrs. stowe, giving me some information respecting the publication of 'uncle tom's cabin' in england and germany; also a letter from our minister in portugal; and, three or four hours later, 'uncle toby' called, having spent the day in the mather school, lecturing on tobacco." [ ] mrs. phelps, wife of professor phelps, of andover, and daughter of professor stuart, the authoress of "sunny side," "peep at number five," and other popular works. from a letter written about this time, an extract is made, which is interesting as showing his system of diet. "my own wants are next to nothing, as i live on the most simple food,--crusts and coffee for breakfast; crusts and champagne for dinner, with never more than three ounces of chicken, or two ounces of tender beef, without any vegetable, together eight ounces; coarse wheat-meal crusts, and two or three ounces of meat, in the twenty-four hours,--beginning hungry, and leaving off more hungry. i have not sat at table with my family for fifteen years, nor eaten a full meal during that time, and am now more hale and hearty than during that whole period." (to a lady in florida.) "boston, oct. , . "dear mrs. ----: your deeply interesting note reached me within the last half-hour; and i feel that no time should be lost in my reply. my life has been protracted beyond all my friends' expectations, and almost beyond my own hopes; yet i enjoy the days with all the zest of early youth, and feel myself a spare hand to do such work as the master lays out before me. this of aiding you is one of the things for which i am spared; and i therefore forward one hundred dollars, which, if you are not willing to accept, you may use for the benefit of some other person or persons, at your discretion. your precious brother has passed on; and, in god's good time, i hope to see him face to face, and to receive, through the beloved, the 'well done' promised to such as have used their lord's trusts as he approves. i enclose you lieut. ----'s letter on his return from sea. * * * * "i had a charming ride yesterday with my nephew frank pierce, and told him i thought he must occupy the white house the next term, but that i should go for scott. pierce is a fine, spirited fellow, and will do his duty wherever placed; but scott will be my choice for president of the united states. god bless you, my child, and have you in the hollow of his hand, in these days of trial. your friend, a. l." (to the hon. jonathan phillips.) "boston, oct. , . "to my respected and honored friend: the changing scenes of life sometimes recall with peculiar freshness the events and feelings of years long past; and such is the case with me, growing out of the death of our great new england statesman, who has, for a long period of years, been looked up to as preaching and teaching the highest duties of american citizens with a power rarely equalled, never surpassed. he is now suddenly called to the bar of that judge who sees not as man sees, and where mercy, not merit, will render the cheering 'well done' to all who have used their trusts as faithful stewards of their lord,--the richest prize to be thought of. our great man had great virtues, and, doubtless, some defects; and i pray god that the former may be written in the hearts of his countrymen, the latter in the sea. here i begin the story that comes over my thoughts. "about forty years ago, walking past your father's house, with my wife and some of our family friends, on a bright, moonlight night, we were led to discuss the character of the owner (your honored father); some of the party wishing they might possess a small part of the property which would make them happy, others something else, when my own wish was expressed. it was, that i might use whatever providence might allow me to possess as faithfully as your father used his possessions, and that i should esteem such a reputation as his a better inheritance for my children than the highest political honors the country could bestow. a few years later, i was visiting stafford springs with my wife, and there met you and mrs. p., and first made your acquaintance. still a few years later, i became personally acquainted with your father by being chosen a director of the massachusetts bank, he being president. still later, i became more intimate with yourself by being a member of the legislature with you, when the seceders from williams college petitioned to be chartered as amherst college, which you opposed by the best speech that was made; and we voted against the separation, and, i believe, acted together on all the subjects brought up during that session. since then, which is about thirty years, i have been a successful business man, although, for the last twenty years, i have been a broken machine, that, by all common experience, should have been cast aside. but i am still moving; and no period of my life has had more to charm, or has had more flowers by the wayside, than my every-day life, with all my privations. the great secret of the enjoyment is, that i am able to do some further work, as your father's example taught me, when the question was discussed near forty years ago. can you wonder, then, my friend, that i wish our names associated in one of the best literary institutions in this country; viz., williams college? my interest in it seemed to be accidental, but must have been providential; for we cannot tell, till we reach a better world, what influence your speech had in directing my especial attention to the noble head of the college, when i first met him in a private circle in this city; and, since then, my respect for his character, my love for him as a man and a brother, has caused me to feel an interest in his college that i never should have felt without this personal intercourse. the two hundred young men there need more teachers; and the college, in view of its wants has appealed to the public for fifty thousand dollars, to place it upon an independent footing. * * * * * "there is money enough for all these good objects; and, if our worthy citizens can only be made to see that it will be returned to them four-fold, in the enjoyment of life in the way that never clogs, it will not be thought presumptuous in me to advise to such investments. from long observation, i am satisfied that we do better by being our own executors, than by hoarding large sums for our descendants. pardon me for thus writing to you; but knowing, as i do, that the college has commenced its appeal for aid, i am sure you will excuse me, whether you contribute to its aid or not. with great respect, i am, as i have always been, "your friend, amos lawrence. "p. s.--if you wish to talk with me, i shall be rejoiced to say what i know about the college." in his diary of the same date, mr. lawrence writes: " p. m.--my good old friend has called to see and talk with me, and a most agreeable conversation we have had. he expressed good wishes for the college, and will subscribe a thousand dollars at once, which is a cheering beginning in this city. the interest in the college will grow here, when people know more about it." "boston, _saturday morning, nov. , _.--the circumstances which have brought me the following letter from my valued friend, 'honest john davis,' are these: many years ago, i learned, from undoubted sources, that his pecuniary losses, through the agency of others, had so straitened him as to decide him to take his two sons from williams college, which seemed to me a pity; and i therefore enclosed to him five hundred dollars, with a request that he would keep his boys in college, and, when his affairs became right again, that he might pay the same to the college for some future needy pupils. two or three years afterwards, he said he was intending to hand over to the college the five hundred dollars, which i advised not to do until it was perfectly convenient for him. the circumstances which now call him out are very interesting; and, to me, the money seems worth ten times the amount received in the common business of life. within ten minutes after mr. davis's letter was read to me, dr. peters, the agent of the college to collect funds for its necessities, called in to report progress in his work. i immediately handed over the five hundred dollars from john davis, with a request that he would acknowledge its reception to my friend at once." "worcester, nov. , . "my dear sir: i have been in boston but once since my return from washington, and then failed to see you. nevertheless, you are seldom absent from our thoughts; you do so much which reminds us of the duties of life, and fixes in our minds sentiments of cherished regard and unalterable affection. no one can desire a more enviable distinction, a more emphatic name, than he whom all tongues proclaim to be the good man; the man who comprehends his mission, and, with unvarying steadiness of purpose, fulfils it. there is such a thing as mental superiority, as elevated station, as commanding influence, as glory, as honor; and these are sometimes all centered in the same individual; but, if that individual has no heart; if humanity is not mixed in his nature; if he has no ear for the infirmities, the weaknesses, and sufferings of his fellow-beings,--he is like the massive, coarse walls of a lofty fortress, having strength, greatness, and power; but, as a man, he is unfinished. he may have much to excite surprise or to overawe, but nothing to awaken the finer sensibilities of our nature, or to win our love. the divine efflatus has never softened the soul of such a man. the heavenly attributes of mercy, brotherly love, and charity, have never touched his heart with sympathy for his race. he forgets that a fellow-being, however humble, is the work of the same god who made him, and that the work of the almighty has a purpose. he forgets the great command to love our neighbor. he forgets that all who are stricken down with disease, poverty, affliction, or suffering, are our neighbors; and that he who ministers to such, be he jew or samaritan, is, in the lofty, scriptural sense, a neighbor. neither the hereditary descent of the levite, nor the purple of the priest, makes a neighbor; but it is he who binds up the bleeding wound. this is the act upon which heaven places its seal of approval, as pleasing in the sight of him that is perfect. where there is an absence of purity of heart or generous sympathy, the man lacks the most ornate embellishment of character, that lustrous brightness which is the type of heaven. to minister to the necessities of the humble and lowly is the work of god's angels; and the man who follows their example cannot be far from his maker. you have the means of doing good; but have what is greater, and a more marked distinction, the disposition to do it when and where it is needed. your heart is always alive, and your hand untiring. * * * * * "some years ago, you did that for me and mine which will command my gratitude while i live. i needed aid to educate my children; and you, in a spirit of marked generosity, came unasked to my relief. i need not say how deeply, how sincerely thankful i was, that one, upon whom i had no claim, should manifest so generous a spirit. after a while, times changed somewhat for the better; and, feeling that i was able to do it, i asked permission to restore the sum advanced, that you, to whom it belonged, might have the disposition of it, since it had performed with me the good that was intended. you kindly gave me leave to hand it over to the college, but advised me to take my own time, and suit my convenience. that time has now come; and, as you are again extending to the college your sustaining arm, and may wish to take this matter into the account, i herewith enclose a check for five hundred dollars, with the renewed thanks of myself and my wife for the great and generous service which you have done us. we shall, in all respects, have profited greatly by it; and have no wish to cancel our obligations by this act, but to recognize them in their fullest extent. i am, most truly and faithfully, "your friend and obedient servant, "john davis." some inquiries having been made of mr. lawrence respecting the early history of the bunker hill monument, he writes, on the th of november, in a short note: dear son: you may be glad to copy the twelfth section of my will, executed in . this information is not before the world, but may be interesting to your children. i could have finished the monument, sick as i was, at any time before edmund dwight's death, by enlisting with him, who made me the offer, to join a small number of friends (three appletons, robert g. shaw, and us three lawrences), without saying, 'by your leave,' to the public." * * * * * "surety-ship is a dangerous craft to embark in. avoid it as you would a sail-boat with no other fastenings than mere wooden pegs and cobweb sails." chapter xxxviii. mr. lawrence serves as presidential elector.--gen. franklin pierce.--sudden death.--funeral. in november, robert g. shaw, esq., and mr. lawrence, were chosen presidential electors for the district in which they resided. both, at that time, were in the enjoyment of their usual health, and yet both were removed within a few months by death. the electoral college was convened in the state house at boston, in december; and mr. lawrence has noticed the event by a memorandum, endorsed upon his commission of elector, as follows: "_december ._--i have attended to the duty, and have given my vote to winfield scott for president, and william a. graham for vice-president." he did not add, that, before leaving the state house, he gave the customary fee paid in such cases towards freeing the family of a negro from slavery. but little is found in the handwriting of mr. lawrence for the month of december, except his usual record of donations to charitable objects. he seems to have written but few letters, which may in part be accounted for by having had his time much occupied by a most agreeable intercourse with gen. franklin pierce, who, with his family, were his guests during a part of the month. that gentleman had for many years been on terms of intimate friendship with mr. lawrence, and had kept up a familiar correspondence from washington and elsewhere, which no political differences had abated. he had always been a favorite; and now, having been elected to the presidential chair, and engaged in plans for his future administration, it may be imagined what interest this intercourse excited in mr. lawrence, deeply concerned as he was in every movement that tended to promote the political and moral welfare of the country. many excursions were made to the interesting spots and charitable institutions of boston and its vicinity, during this visit, which has a melancholy interest from the events which immediately followed it. on the twenty-sixth, general and mrs. pierce left boston for their home at concord, n. h., with the intention of spending a few days with their friends at andover. they were accompanied by their only child benjamin, a bright and promising boy, twelve years of age, whose melancholy death, but a few days afterwards, will give an interest to the following note, which he wrote to mr. lawrence in acknowledgment of a little token of remembrance: "andover, dec. , . "dear uncle lawrence: i admire the beautiful pencil you sent me, and i think i shall find it very useful. i shall keep it very carefully for your sake, and i hope that i may learn to write all the better with it. it was kind in you to write such a good little note, too; and i see that being industrious while you were young enables you to be kind and benevolent now that you are old. i think that you have given me very good advice, and i hope i shall profit by it. so, dear uncle, with much love to aunt, i am "your affectionate nephew, "b. pierce." the brief history of this promising boy, who exhibited a maturity and thoughtfulness far beyond his years, is soon told. nine days afterwards, in company with his father and mother, he left andover on his return home. a few minutes after starting, the cars were precipitated down a steep bank, among the rocks, causing the instant death of benjamin, and bruising the father and many other passengers severely. the accident sent a thrill of sympathy throughout the union, and cast a withering blight upon the prospects of the bereaved parents, which, amidst all earthly distinctions, can never be forgotten, and which has perhaps rendered more irksome the great and unceasing responsibilities of high official station. "_dec. ._--i sent a large bundle of clothing materials, books, and other items, with sixty dollars, by steamer for bangor, to professor pond, of bangor theological seminary, for the students. also gave a parcel, costing twenty-five dollars, to mrs. ----, who is a groton girl, and now having twins, making twenty children: is very poor. "_dec. ._--to professor ----, by dear s., one hundred dollars. books and items to-day, five dollars." these were his last entries. on the afternoon of the above date, the writer, in his usual walk, passed mr. lawrence's door with the intention of calling on his return, but, after proceeding a few steps, decided, from some unaccountable motive, to give up the accustomed exercise, and pass the time with his father. mr. lawrence appeared in excellent health and spirits; and nearly an hour was agreeably spent in discussing the topics of the day. he seemed more than usually communicative; and, although always kind and affectionate, there was, on this occasion, an unusual softness of manner, and tenderness of expression, which cannot be forgotten. the last topic touched upon was the character of a prominent statesman, just deceased, and the evidence which he had given of preparation for an exchange of worlds. he spoke somewhat fully upon the nature of such preparation, and expressed a strong hope, that, in the present instance, the exchange had been a happy one. in the latter part of the evening, mr. lawrence addressed to his friend, prof. packard, of bowdoin college, the following note, in reply to some questions asked by that gentleman in regard to the bunker hill monument, of which he was preparing a history for publication among the records of the maine historical society: "boston, december , , evening. "my dear friend: your letter of tuesday reached me just before my morning excursion to longwood to see our loved one there. in reply to your first query, i answer, that mr. e. everett presented a design of bunker hill monument, which was very classic, and was supported by col. perkins and gen. dearborn, i believe, and perhaps one or two more. young greenough (horatio), then a student of harvard college, sent in a plan with an essay, that manifested extraordinary talents, and was substantially adopted, although the column was amended by the talents, taste, and influence of loammi baldwin, one of our directors. the discussion of the model was very interesting; and, among the whole mass of plans, this of mr. everett and mr. baldwin, or, as i before said, a modification of greenough's, were the only ones that were thought of. mr. everett, and those who favored his classic plan, were very cordial in their support of the plan of the monument as it is, very soon after its adoption. mr. ticknor was very active in support of the plan as adopted; and i have a strong impression that young greenough's arguments were wholly just, and, abating some assertions which seemed a little strong for a mere college-lad, were true and unexceptionable. i write from memory, and not from overlooking the plans carefully since the time they were considered. young greenough i felt a deep interest in, and advanced money to his father to allow him to go abroad to study, which has been repaid since his father's death. here i have an interesting story to tell you of this debt, which i wished to cancel, that the widow might receive the amount. mr. greenough was near his end, and deeply affected, but fully persuaded that, by the provisions of his will, his widow would soon have an ample income, and declined the offer. it has turned out better than he ever anticipated. the books shall go forward, as you requested. all our family, 'kith and kin,' are pretty well. the president elect has, i think, the hardest time, being over-worked; and, as we are now without any one, we shall be rejoiced to see you here. pray, come. i shall write again when i send the 'red book' you request. "with love to all, n. and i join; and i bid you adieu. "from your friend, "amos lawrence. "to prof. packard, brunswick, me." the above letter was folded, directed, and left upon his table, and doubtless contained the last words he ever wrote. after the usual family devotions, he retired at about ten o'clock, and, before his attendant left the room, asked a few questions relating to the situation of a poor family which he had relieved a day or two before. mrs. lawrence had been in an adjoining room, and, on returning, found him lying quietly, and apparently engaged in silent prayer. she did not, therefore, disturb him, but retired for the night without speaking. in less than two hours, she was awakened by one of his usual attacks. remedies were applied; but, no rallying symptoms appearing, the physician and family were summoned. all that medical skill could do was in vain; and, at a quarter past twelve, on the last day of the year, he quietly breathed his last, without having awakened to consciousness after his first sleep. all his temporal affairs seemed to have been arranged in view of this event. the partnership with his brother, which had existed for nearly forty years, was dissolved in that way which he had resolved in former years should alone terminate it. from various prudential reasons, however, he had changed his opinion, and had decided to withdraw from all business relations, and accordingly furnished the advertisement, which was to appear on the next day in the public prints, announcing his withdrawal. four days previous, he had executed a codicil to his will; and thus seemed to have settled his concerns with the closing year. the summons did not find him unprepared; for it was such as he had long expected, and had alluded to many times in his conversation, as well as in his letters to friends. the plans of each day were made with reference to such a call. nor can we doubt that he was, in the highest sense, prepared to exchange what he sometimes was permitted to call "the heaven on earth" for that higher heaven where so many of his most cherished objects of earthly affection had preceded him. on the morning of his death, the editor found upon his table the following lines, which had been copied by him a few days previous, and which are the more interesting from being a part of the same hymn containing the lines repeated by his wife upon her death-bed, thirty-three years before: "vital spark of heavenly flame, quit, o, quit this mortal frame! trembling, hoping, lingering, flying,-- o, the pain, the bliss, of dying! cease, fond nature,--cease the strife, and let me languish into life. hark!--------" it would almost seem that a vision of the angel-messenger had been afforded, and that the sound of his distant footsteps had fallen upon his ear; for, with the unfinished line, the pen thus abruptly stops. the funeral ceremonies were performed on tuesday, the th of january. a prayer was first offered before the body was taken from the house, in the presence of the family and friends of the deceased, by the rev. a. h. vinton, d.d., rector of st. paul's church. public exercises in brattle-street church were then performed, in the presence of a crowded congregation, composed of the numerous friends and former associates of the deceased, clergymen of all denominations, and large numbers representing the various professions and trades of the community. the religious services were conducted by three of mr. lawrence's most intimate and valued friends, representing three different denominations. these were the rev. dr. lothrop, pastor of brattle-street church; the rev. dr. hopkins, president of williams college; and the rev. dr. sharp, pastor of the baptist society in charles-street. a beautiful and appropriate hymn was sung by the members of the lawrence association, from the mather school, who surrounded the coffin, and, at the conclusion of the hymn, covered it with flowers. the body, followed by a large procession of mourning friends, was then conveyed to mount auburn, and deposited by the side of the loved ones who had preceded him, and under the shade of the "old oak," where may it rest until summoned to the presence of that saviour whose example and precepts he so much loved on earth, and through whom alone he looked for happiness in heaven! chapter xxxix. sketch of character by rev. drs. lothrop and hopkins. the correspondence in the preceding pages will, perhaps, give a clearer view of the character of mr. lawrence than anything which can be adduced by others. it may not be amiss, however, to quote what has been written by two of his most intimate friends, who had the most ample means of forming a just estimate of the man, and of the motives by which he was actuated. dr. lothrop, in his sermon preached on the sunday after the funeral, says: "i have intimated that mr. lawrence was intellectually great. i think he was so. by this, i do not mean he was a scholar or learned man, with a mind developed and disciplined by severe training, and enlarged and enriched by varied culture in the various departments of human thought and study. this, we know, he was not; although he was a man of considerable reading, who loved and appreciated the best books in english literature. but i mean that he was a man of great native vigor of intellect, whose mind was clear, strong, comprehensive in its grasp, penetrating, far-reaching in its observation, discerning and discriminating in its judgments, sagacious in its conclusions; a mind, which, if enriched by the requisite culture, and directed to such objects, would have made him eminent in any of the walks of literary or professional life, as, without that culture, it did make him eminent in those walks of practical, commercial life to which he did direct it. i mention this, not to dwell upon it, but simply because some who have known him little, and that only since disease had somewhat sapped his strength, may not do him justice in this respect. those who remember his early manhood; who saw the strong, bold, and vigorous tread with which he walked forward to his rightful place among the merchants of the city; those who remember the sagacity of his enterprises, his quick and accurate discernment of character, and the commanding influence he exercised over others; the ease and rapidity with which he managed the concerns of a large commercial establishment, and decided and despatched the most important commercial negotiation,--these will be ready to admit that he was intellectually a strong man. to the last this vigor of intellect showed itself; if not always in his conversation, yet always in his letters, many of which will be found to have a force of thought, a fulness of wisdom and sound judgment, a terse, epigrammatic comprehensiveness of expression, of which no man, however distinguished by his learning and scholarship, would have need to be ashamed. the merchants of this city have ever been distinguished, i believe, for their integrity and benevolence. nowhere is wealth acquired by a more honest and healthy activity; nowhere is a larger portion of it devoted to all the objects which a wise philanthropy, an extended patriotism, and a tender christian sympathy, would foster and promote. mr. lawrence was conspicuous for these qualities. his integrity, i may venture to say, stands absolutely unimpeached, without spot or blemish. his history, as a merchant, from first to last, will bear the strictest scrutiny. its minutest incidents, which have faded from the memory of those concerned; its most secret acts, those of which no human eye could take knowledge,--might all be brought into the light before us; and like those, i trust, of many of his fraternity, they would seem only to illustrate the purity and integrity of his principles, the conscientious regard to truth and right and justice with which he conducted all the negotiations of business, and all the affairs of his life. he seemed ever to me to have a reverence for right, unalloyed, unfaltering, supreme; a moral perception and a moral sensibility, which kept him from deviating a hair's breadth from what he saw and felt to be his duty. it was this that constituted the strength of his character, and was one of the great secrets of his success. it was this that secured him, when a young man, the entire confidence, and an almost unlimited use of capital, of some of the wealthiest and best men of that day. * * * * * "the prominent feature in mr. lawrence's life and character, its inspiration and its guide, was religion; religious faith, affection, and hope. he loved god, and therefore he loved all god's creatures. he believed in christ, as the promised messiah and saviour of the world; and therefore found peace and strength to his soul, amid all the perils, duties, and sorrows of life. * * * * * "there was nothing narrow or sectarian about mr. lawrence's religious opinions or feelings. he had a large, catholic spirit, which embraced within the arms of its love, and of its pecuniary bounty also when needed, all denominations of christians; and it is to be hoped that the influence of his example and character has done something, and will continue to do more, to rebuke that bigotry which 'makes its own light the measure of another's illumination.' he took no pleasure in religious disputes or discussions. the practical in christianity was what interested him. his great aim was to illustrate his faith by his daily walk, and authenticate his creed by a life of practical usefulness, constant benevolence, and cheerful piety. this aim he successfully accomplished, to the conviction of persons of all creeds and of every name. these will all give him a name in the church universal; will all admit that he was a noble specimen of a true christian,--a loving and believing disciple, who had the very spirit of his master. that spirit pervaded his daily life, and formed the moral atmosphere in which he lived and breathed. it quickened in him all holy, devout, and pious affections; gave him a profound reverence, a cheerful submission, a bright and glorious hope,--a hope that crowned every hour with gladness, robbed death of all terrors, and, in _his_ soul, brought heaven down to earth." the following extracts are taken from the sermon, by president hopkins, before the students of williams college,--a sermon from which extracts have been already made: "having thus spoken of the use of his property by mr. lawrence, i observe that it was distinguished by the three characteristics which seem to me essential to the most perfect accomplishment of the ends of benevolence, and that in two of these he was preëminent. "the first of these is, that he gave the money in his life-time. no man, i presume, has lived on this continent who has approximated him in the amount thus given; and in this course there are principles involved which deserve the careful attention of those who would act conscientiously, and with the highest wisdom. there may doubtless be good reasons why property destined for benevolent uses should be retained till death, and he is justly honored who then gives it a wise direction; but giving thus cannot furnish either the same test or discipline of character, or the same enjoyment, nor can it always accomplish the same ends. by his course, mr. lawrence put his money to its true work long before it could have done anything on the principle of accumulation; and to a work, too, to which it never could have been put in any other way. he made it sure, also, that that work should be done; and had the pleasure of seeing its results, and of knowing that through it he became the object of gratitude and affection. so doing, he showed that he stood completely above that tendency to accumulate which seems to form the chief end of most successful business men; and which, unless strongly counteracted, narrows itself into avarice, as old age comes on, almost with the certainty of a natural law. he did stand completely above this. no one could know him, without perceiving, that, in his giving, there was no remnant of grudging or reluctance; that he gave, not only freely, but with gladness, as if it were the appropriate action of a vital energy. and in so doing, and in witnessing the results, and in the atmosphere of sympathy and love thus created, there was a test and a discipline and an enjoyment, as well as a benefit to others, that could have been reached in no other way. "the second peculiarity in the bounty of mr. lawrence, and in which he was preëminent, was the personal attention and sympathy which he bestowed with it. he had in his house a room where he kept stores of useful articles for distribution. _he_ made up the bundle; _he_ directed the package. no detail was overlooked. he remembered the children, and designated for each the toy, the book, the elegant gift. he thought of every want, and was ingenious and happy in devising appropriate gifts. in this attention to the minutest token of regard, while, at the same time, he could give away thousands like a prince, i have known no one like him. and, if the gift was appropriate, the manner of giving was not less so. there was in this the nicest appreciation of the feelings of others, and an intuitive perception of delicacy and propriety. these were the characteristics that gave him a hold upon the hearts of many, and made his death really felt as that of few other men in boston could have been. in this, we find not a little of the utility, and much of the beauty, of charity. even in his human life, man does not live by bread alone, but by sympathy and the play of reciprocal affection, and is often more touched by the kindness than by the relief. only this sympathy it is that can establish the right relation between the rich and the poor; and the necessity for this can be superseded by no legal provision. this only can neutralize the repellent and aggressive tendencies of individuals and of classes, and make society a brotherhood, where the various inequalities shall work out moral good, and where acts of mutual kindness and helpfulness may pass and repass, as upon a golden chain, during a brief pilgrimage and scene of probation. it is a great and a good thing for a rich man to set the stream of charity in motion, to employ an agent, to send a check, to found an asylum, to endow a professorship, to open a fountain that shall flow for ages; but it is as different from sympathy with present suffering, and the relief of immediate want, as the building of a dam to turn a factory by one great sluiceway is from the irrigation of the fields. by mr. lawrence both were done. "the third characteristic referred to of the bounty of mr. lawrence was, that he gave as a christian man,--from a sense of religious obligation. not that all his gifts had a religious aspect: he gave gifts of friendship and of affection. there was a large enclosure, where the affections walked foremost, and where, though they asked leave of duty, they yet received no prompting from her. whether he always drew this line rightly; whether, in the measure and direction of his charities, he was always right; whether so much of diffusion and individuality was wise,--it is not for me to say. certain it is, that this form of charity holds a place in the church now less prominent relatively than it did in the early ages; and it may be that the proportions of christian character, in portions of the church, need to be remodelled and recast in this respect. these are questions for each individual. it is sufficient to know that mr. lawrence looked the great doctrine of stewardship full in the face, and prayed earnestly over it, and responded to it practically, as few have done. * * * * "undoubtedly, he was a man of great original powers. on this point, i have had but one opinion since knowing him. his mind was not speculative, discursive, metaphysical: but, in the high moral qualities; in decision and energy; in intuitive perception, and sound, practical judgment; in the sensibility and affections, and in the imagination,--he was great. like all remarkable men who are not one-sided, he had large faculties, which found their harmony in their conflict, or rather in their balance. he was quick and tender in his feelings, yet firm; ardent in his affections, yet judicious; large in his gifts, yet discriminating; he was a keen observer, yet kind in his feelings; he had a fertile and shaping imagination: he built air-castles, and they vanished, and then he built others; but, when he decided to build anything on the ground, it was well-planned and promptly finished. his tastes were natural and simple, his habits plain, and his feelings always fresh, genuine, and youthful. not even the smell of the fire of prosperity had passed on him. he shunned notoriety. he had a strong repugnance to all affectation and pretence and misplaced finery. a young man with rings on his fingers had small chance of favor or employment from him. he was impatient of talk when action was called for, and of all attempts to substitute talk for action. his command over the english language, especially in writing, indicated his power. style is no mechanical product, that can be formed by rules, but is the outgrowth and image of the mind; and his had often great felicity and strength. when he wrote under the impulse of his feelings, he seemed to impregnate the very paper, and make it redolent of them. he loved nature; and, instead of becoming insensible to it as years came on, it seemed rather to open upon him like a new revelation. it was full of life and of teaching, and the charms of natural beauty were heightened by those associations which his quick imagination connected with its objects and scenes. after the death of two of his children, he says: 'dear s. and r. speak in words without sound through every breeze, and in every flower, and in the fragrance of every perfume from the fields or the trees.' years ago, after a long confinement, with little hope of recovery, he visited, when first able to get out, the panorama of jerusalem, then on exhibition in boston, and remained there till the scene took full possession of his mind. shortly after, on a fine day, he rode out to brookline; and, as returning health threw over those hills a mantle of beauty that he had never seen before, they were immediately associated in his mind with the panorama of jerusalem, and then with the glories of the jerusalem above. this association was indissoluble, and he would take his friends out to see his 'mount zion.' in , he says, 'it really seems to me like the sides of mount zion, and that i can cling to them as i view them.' * * * * * "he was a deeply religious man. his trust in god, and his hope of salvation through christ, were the basis of his character. he believed in the providence of god as concerned in all events, and as discriminating and retributive in this world. he felt that he could trust god in his providence, where he could not see. 'the events of my life,' he writes, 'have been so far ordered in a way to make me feel that i know nothing at the time, except that a father rules; and his discipline, however severe, is never more so than is required.' he believed in the bible, and saw rightly its relation to all our blessings. 'what,' he writes again, 'should we do, if the bible were not the foundation of our self-government? and what will become of us, when we wilfully and wickedly past it behind us?' he read the bible morning and evening in his family, and prayed with them; and it may aid those who are acquainted with the prayers of thornton, in forming a conception of his religious character, to know that he used them. family religion he esteemed as above all price; and, when he first learned that a beloved relative had established family worship, he wept for joy. he distributed religious books very extensively, chiefly those of the american tract society, and of the american sunday school union. * * * * of creeds held in the understanding, but not influencing the life, he thought little; and the tendency of his mind was to practical rather than doctrinal views. he believed in our lord jesus christ as a saviour, and trusted in him for salvation. he was a man of habitual prayer. the last time i visited him, he said to me, that he had been restless during the night, and that the only way in which he could 'get quieted was by getting near to god,' and that he went to sleep repeating a prayer. during the same visit, he spoke strongly of his readiness, and even of his desire, to depart. he viewed death with tranquillity and hope and preparation, for it was habitual with him. what need i say more? at midnight the summons came, and his work was done." chapter xl. conclusion. mr. lawrence was of about the medium height, and, until reduced by sickness, was erect in person, and active and vigorous in his movements. the expression of his countenance was mild and cheerful, partaking of that benevolent cast which one would have been led to expect from the tenor of his daily life. his affections were warm, and his feelings quick and ardent. his temperament was of a nervous character, thereby inclining him to impatience. with this defect he had to struggle much in early life. it is related of him, that he once, by some hasty reply, wounded the sensitive feelings of a cherished sister, who afterwards died; and so much did he regret his impatience, that he made a resolution to persevere in his efforts until he had conquered the fault. a great change was soon remarked in him in this respect; so much so, that a relative, who passed several months under his roof during his early married life, was surprised at not seeing the least evidence of this tendency. during his latter years, when weakened by disease, and when his nervous system had been shattered by his violent and peculiar attacks of illness, he had more difficulty in controlling his feelings and expressions. on the second, sober thought, however, no one could have been more ready to confess the fault, and to make such reparation as the case demanded. his daily actions were guided by the most exalted sense of right and wrong; and in his strict sense of justice, aristides himself could not surpass him. he was a living example of a successful merchant, who had, from the earliest period of his business career, risen above all artifice, and had never been willing to turn to his own advantage the ignorance or misfortune of others. he demonstrated in his own case the possibility of success, while practising the highest standard of moral obligation. he had ever commanded the confidence of those around him. when an apprentice in his native town, many of his customers relied upon his judgment rather than their own. he never deceived them, and early adopted as his rule of life, to do to others as he would have them do to him. thus he stood high in the confidence, as well as in the estimation, of his neighbors. what "amos" said was right, and no one could gainsay. if any one thing was, more than another, the means of promoting his success in life, we should say it was this faculty of commanding the confidence of others. to this can be traced the prosperity of his earliest business years; and, as his sphere enlarged, and his financial operations were extended, the same feeling of confidence gave him the unlimited command of the means of some of the wealthiest capitalists in new england, who, through the most critical seasons in the mercantile world, placed implicit confidence in the house of which he was the senior partner. mr. lawrence had no fluency in conversation. his mind was ever active; but the volume of thought found no corresponding channel of utterance. the very number of ideas seemed to impede the power of expression. had his talents been devoted to literary or scientific pursuits, he would have earned distinction by his pen. his mind was not of that logical cast, which, from patient reasoning, can deduce effects from a succession of causes; but arrived at its conclusions by a kind of intuition, somewhat like those rare instances of mathematicians who solve a difficult problem, and yet can give no account of the mental process by which the solution has been reached. as a husband and father, he was ever kind and affectionate. he was domestic in his tastes, and found his greatest enjoyment in his home. here he was eminently favored, and ever found the warmest sympathy, and that considerate care and kindness so necessary in latter years to his feeble health. no one who has read the preceding correspondence can have failed to see the interest which he ever took in all that concerned the welfare of those whom providence had committed to his keeping. his letters to his children would fill many volumes, and are in themselves an enduring testimony to his fidelity and watchful care during a long series of years. his motto was, "line upon line, precept upon precept;" and thus his constant aim was to impress upon their minds the great principles of religion and morality. no parent could be more indulgent when such indulgence was consistent with the true welfare of his children, or more resolute in denying what was hurtful. their present happiness was a great object; but his desire for their ultimate good was still greater. as a friend, he was most faithful and sympathizing; and many now living can testify to the value of his friendship. few, perhaps, have had more friends. their affection for him was not founded so much upon gratitude for his constantly recurring favors, as upon the warm sympathy and affection with which his heart, was filled toward them and theirs. as a citizen, his views were comprehensive, and were bounded by no lines of sectional or party feeling. he was most deeply interested in all that concerned the honor and prosperity of his country, and keenly sensitive to the injury inflicted by such measures as tended to depreciate her standing in the estimation of other nations, or of good men among her own citizens. he was a true patriot, and had adopted the views and aims of the best men of the republic in former days, while he viewed with distrust many of the popular movements of more modern times. from his father he had inherited the most profound veneration for gen. washington, and faith in his public policy; while the political principles of alexander hamilton and john jay were those alone by which he thought the permanent happiness and prosperity of the country could be secured. as a christian, he endeavored to walk in the footsteps of his master. he had no taste for the discussion of those minor points of doctrine upon which good men so often differ, but embraced with all his heart the revealed truths of the gospel, which the great body of christians can unite in upholding. he sought those fields of labor where all can meet, rather than those which are hedged in by the dividing lines of sect and party. he reverenced the bible, and, from the first chapter of the old testament to the last chapter of the new, received it as the inspired word of god. this was his sheet-anchor; and to doubt was, in his view, to leave a safe and peaceful haven, to embark upon an unknown ocean of danger and uncertainty. religion was for him a practical thing for every-day use, consisting not so much in frames and emotions as in the steady and persevering performance of the daily duties of life. his view of duty did not limit him to the common obligations of morality, but included the highest sense of duty towards god; or, as he has expressed it in one of his early letters, "to be a moral man merely, is not to be a christian." he was an active helper in all that tended to promote the cause of christianity among nations, as well as to promote spiritual progress among individuals. the christian banner, in his view, covered many denominations; and, with this belief, his charities were directed to the building up of institutions under the influence of the various sects differing from that under which he himself was classed. what has been said of john thornton might be applied to him: "he was a merchant renowned in his generation for a munificence more than princely. he was one of those rare men in whom the desire to relieve distress assumes the form of a master-passion. conscious of no aims but such as may invite the scrutiny of god and man, he pursued them after his own fearless fashion, yielding to every honest impulse, choosing his associates in scorn of mere worldly precepts, and worshipping with any fellow-christian whose heart beat in unison with his own, however inharmonious might be some of the articles of their respective creeds. his benevolence was as unsectarian as his general habits; and he stood ready to assist a beneficent design in every party, but would be the creature of none. he not only gave largely, but he gave wisely. he kept a regular account (not for ostentation, or the gratification of vanity, but for method) of every pound he gave. with him, his givings were made a matter of business, as cowper says, in an 'elegy' he wrote upon him,-- 'thou hadst an industry in doing good, restless as his who toils and sweats for food'" those who were not acquainted with mr. lawrence might suppose that his long continued ill-health, extending through a period of twenty-one years, permitted the formation of a character which few could attain who should not be called upon to pass through a similar discipline. that the isolation from the business-world, and freedom from the cares and struggles of active life, to which most men are subjected, tended to give him a more just and dispassionate view of his relations to god, as well as to his fellow-men, cannot be doubted. the peculiar elevation and spirituality of mind which he acquired must not, however, be looked upon as the hot-bed growth of the invalid's chamber; but rather as the gradual development of a character whose germ was planted far back in the years of childhood. the principles of religion and truth which were inculcated by a faithful and sensible mother upon the heart of the child, shone forth in all the events which marked the life of the future man. of mr. lawrence's religious opinions respecting those doctrinal points upon which christians are divided, the writer will not speak; though, from repeated conversations with his father on the subject, in the hours of health as well as of sickness, he might consistently do so. rather than make assertions which might lead to discussion, it is more grateful to his feelings to leave the subject to the unbiassed judgment of those who shall read the preceding correspondence. let it rather be the aim of those who loved and honored him in life to imitate his example, now that he is dead. they may rejoice that they were permitted to claim as a relative, and to have daily intercourse with, one who has exhibited, in such an abundant degree, those fruits which are the truest and best evidence of a genuine faith. in completing this volume, the editor feels that he has fulfilled a sacred trust; and his great regret is, that the work could not have been undertaken by some one more fitted, by his qualifications and past experience, to do justice to the subject. for reasons given in the preface, this could not be; and it is, therefore, with great diffidence that these pages are submitted as a memorial of one whose life and character deserve more than a passing record. if, however, what has been done shall be the means of directing the attention of those for whom the volume has been prepared to the consideration of the precepts here recorded; and, above all, if those precepts shall be the means of influencing them for good in their future course in life,--the effort will not have been in vain. index. abstinence; total, from tobacco and intoxicating drinks, by mr. lawrence, accounts, benefit of keeping, illustrated, adams, amos, adams, samuel, advice, letters of, to abbott lawrence, - amherst college, effort of mr. lawrence in behalf of, amin bey, letter to, from mr. lawrence, anatomy, views of mr. lawrence respecting the dissection of human bodies, andré, major, appleton, jesse, appleton, mrs., death of, athenæum, in boston, mr. lawrence's plans for benefit of, baldwin, loammi, baltimore, derangement of business in, bangor theological seminary, donation by mr. lawrence to, donation for students in, banks, suspension of in , bible, mr. lawrence's estimate of the, birth-place, attachment to expressed by mr. lawrence, of mr. lawrence, engraving of, blagden, george w., note from, respecting rev. dr. ----, of scotland, letter from mr. lawrence to, blake, george, bondsmen, advice respecting fathers becoming, book-keeping by double entry, adopted by mr. lawrence, boston, religious controversy in, mr. lawrence elected representative of, wooden buildings in, post-office, dead letters from, bowdoin college, donation by mrs. lawrence to, brattle-street church, mr. lawrence's connection with, brazer, james, , his store described, bridgman, laura, briggs, george n., , presentation of a cane to, by mr. lawrence, brooks, peter c., death and character of, buckminster, j. s., remains of removed to mount auburn by mr. lawrence, bunker hill, desire of mr. lawrence to retain for posterity the battlefield, bunker hill monument, mr. lawrence's interest in, objection to a lottery for, completion of, mr. lawrence's agency in securing the completion of, - note from mr. lawrence respecting early history of, history of the plan of, burial-places, mr. lawrence's views respecting, business, secret of mr. lawrence's success in, buxton, lady, letter from, to mr. lawrence, letter from, to mr. lawrence, buxton, sir thomas fowell, cabot, samuel, cambridge theological school, views respecting, canada, journey of mr. lawrence to, canadian boat-song, canfield, mr., carroll, charles, caswell, oliver, chaplin, daniel, chapman, jonathan, charities, memorandum of, - proportion of, in , money for, "odds and ends" for, - correction of a public statement respecting mr. lawrence's, amount expended during ten years in, total amount expended in, charity, systematic, inculcated by mr. lawrence, children, fondness of mr. lawrence for, - hospital for, founded by mr. lawrence, - christ, object of his death, christmas, mr. lawrence's view of, cobb, gershom, introduces book-keeping by double entry, codman, dr., colebrooke, lady, death of, colebrooke, sir william, letter to, from mr. lawrence, letter from mr. lawrence to, colonization of africa, aided by mr. lawrence, , concord, mr. lawrence's account of the fight in at, - controversy, religious, in boston, copartnership, offer of amos lawrence to dissolve,--declined by abbott lawrence, copartnership of a. & a. lawrence dissolved by death, cornhill-street, store of mr. lawrence in, credit system, mr. lawrence's view of, cresson, elliott, letter to, from mr. lawrence, darley, mrs., darracott, george, davis, john, loan of $ by mr. lawrence to, letter from, to mr. lawrence, dearborn, h. a. s., , debts, mr. lawrence's promptness in paying, dexter, franklin, estimate of his argument on the fugitive slave law, dexter, madam, diet of mr. lawrence, , table of, kept by mr. lawrence, dorchester heights, reflections on, drinking habits in mr. lawrence's early days, dwight, edmund, dwight, louis, testimony of mr. lawrence respecting, ellis, judge, ellis, mrs. nancy, marriage of mr. lawrence to, epicureanism, mr. lawrence's notion of, european fashions, introduction of discountenanced, everett, edward, , expenditures, by mr. lawrence, in , from to , fac-simile of mr. lawrence's hand-writing, family worship, mr. lawrence's remarks on, farwell, captain, , fillmore, millard, foreign gold, exchange of negotiated, fraternal affection, example of, french revolution of , mr. lawrence's sympathy with, fugitive slave law, mr. lawrence's opinion of the, funeral ceremonies at the death of amos lawrence, , gannett, ezra s., letter to, gannett, caleb, gannett, mrs., hymn for her little boy by, goddard, n., granger's coffee house, gray, mrs. martha, present from mr. lawrence to, gray, robert, green, wm. l., death of, greenough, horatio, greenwood, rev. dr., groton, scenery in, , groton academy, donations of mr. lawrence to, preamble of the deed, amount of donations to, by mr. lawrence, donations of $ , by william lawrence to, extract from address at jubilee of, gurney, hannah (see buxton, lady), haddock, charles b., letter from mr. lawrence to, hallock, rev. mr., hamilton, james, letters from mr. lawrence to, , , letter from, to mr. lawrence, hancock, john, harris, colonel, harvard college, donation of $ , by abbott lawrence to, heaven, reunion of friends in, hillsborough bank, mr. lawrence's draft on for specie, , hone, isaac, hone, philip, hopkins, mark, president of williams college, letters to, from mr. lawrence, , , , , , , , , , , , , lectures in boston, hopkins, mark, extract from his sermon on death of mr. lawrence, peculiarities of mr. lawrence's bounty sketched by, - howe, dr., hubbard, judge, hubbart, tuthill, hulsemann, chevalier, interview of mr. lawrence with, immigration from europe, mr. lawrence's view of, , income, net, of mr. lawrence in the first two years, practice of spending it, adopted by mr. lawrence, intoxicating liquors, total abstinence from, by mr. lawrence, ireland, mr. lawrence's contributions to the famished in, , johnson school, donation to, by mr. lawrence, kast, dr., kent, chancellor, ride with--character of, kenyon college, aid to by mr. lawrence, lafayette, general, mr. lawrence's opinion of, message to, lothrop, samuel k., , , , extract from his sermon on the death of mr. lawrence, sketch of character of mr. lawrence by, - lawrence, abbott, , , letters to, , , , , , , , , , , , becomes partner with amos, character as an apprentice, declines offer to dissolve copartnership, sails for europe, his dispatch of business, his military service in the last war with great britain, , donation of $ , to harvard college, candidate for the vice-presidency, tendered the office of secretary of the navy, appointed minister to the court of st. james, his popularity in great britain, likeness of, lawrence, mrs. abbott, lawrence, amos, when and where born, ancestry of, early instruction of, his mechanical skill in boyhood, anecdote of his school-days, enters groton academy, becomes a merchant's clerk, adopts the principle and practice of total abstinence, wounded by a gun-shot, apprenticeship terminated, accepts a clerkship in boston, commences business in boston, his boarding-house rule, his promptness in paying bills, motive for daily study, his remarks on letter-writing, his distinction between morality and religion, his mercantile principles, view of the credit system, net income of first two years, advice against parents becoming bondsmen for their sons, his opinion of the theatre, assists to establish his brother william in business, flying visits to groton, alarming illness, engagement of marriage, marriage, offer to dissolve copartnership declined, letter on the death of his sister, letter on the birth of his daughter, recommends marriage, domestic attachments, adoption of book-keeping by double entry, leniency to unfortunate debtors, second alarming illness, resignation in prospect of his wife's death, tour through the middle states, appreciation of the right of suffrage, delegate to assist in settlement of jared sparks, becomes an inmate of his brother's family, negotiates an exchange of foreign gold, narrow escape from shipwreck, second marriage of, resumes housekeeping, representative in the legislature, letter to mr. wolcott respecting his son, becomes a manufacturer, curtailment of his business, extent of his correspondence, opinion of lafayette, interest in bunker hill monument, journey to canada, objection to european fashions, objection to a lottery for bunker hill monument, presentation of plate to daniel webster, , dangerous illness of, feelings in sickness, , , visit to new hampshire, his life in a sick chamber, his submission under divine chastisements, - inculcates systematic charity, secret of his success, exercise on horseback, his diet, improvement of health, avoids the appearance of evil, his views of burial-places, advice about selecting a wife, advice to his daughter, , gratitude towards his mother, visit to washington, aversion to matrimonial speculations, estimate of congressional debates, visit to rainsford island, reflections on completing thirty years of business, pecuniary condition, january st, , habits of promptness, prospects on december st, , reflections on the death of his brother, advocates family worship, engraving of his birth-place, character in the bestowal of gifts, enjoyment of natural scenery, , belief in reunion of friends hereafter, annoyances arising from his reputation for benevolence, his religious belief, interest in a young colored lawyer, - reflections on his fifty-eighth birth-day, his agency in securing completion of bunker hill monument, - poetical toast to, renders aid to kenyon college, acquaintance with pres. hopkins, presents sent to president hopkins, - his aversion to public commendation of himself, , advice respecting his grandchildren, opposes annexation of texas, joy at birth of twin granddaughters, letter on death of his daughter, - sentiments in view of his prosperity, his view of keeping the sabbath, offer of his remains for the dissecting-room, his interest in the johnson school, fondness for children, provides a hospital for sick children, his gratitude for prosperity, contributes to the famished in ireland, his application in behalf of amherst college, congratulates abbott lawrence on his donation to harvard college, his attendance at church, his exactness in business, kindness to an old debtor, fac-simile of his hand-writing, sentiments respecting a religious awakening in college, , objects to his brother's taking political office, - , , estimate of the bible, prefers gen. taylor for president, treatment of an applicant for aid, joy at a revival of religion among unitarians, interview with father mathew, adds a codicil to his will, illness, desire for death, keeps christmas with children, circulates dr. hamilton's works, , , , lameness, attentions to children, circulates buxton's life, cancels a note for $ against a clergyman, interest in wabash college, controversy with a scotch clergyman, - his ground of religious hope, circulates uncle toby's stories on tobacco, his diet, prefers scott for president, solicits aid for williams college, from jonathan phillips, relieves the straitened circumstances of gov. davis, chosen presidential elector, votes for scott and graham, intercourse with franklin pierce, his last writing, death of, funeral ceremonies, , sketches of his character, personal appearance, character of john thornton applied to, general character, - lawrence, amos a., lawrence, arthur, lawrence, john, lawrence, luther, value of his property, speaker of house of representatives, mayor of lowell, death of, , lawrence, robert, illness of, letters of mr. lawrence respecting, - lawrence, samuel, sen., account of, sketch of his military career, , lawrence, samuel, presentation of a gold box to, by mr. lawrence, lawrence, mrs. sarah, illness of, letter to her husband, her condition described by mr. lawrence, death of, her death-bed scene described, - lawrence, mrs. susanna, character of, death of, lawrence, william, , commences business in boston, donations of $ , to groton academy by, death and character of, , lawrence association, in the mather school, note to, contributions for ireland by, presentation of a silver cup to mr. lawrence by, hymn sung at funeral of mr. lawrence by, letsom, dr. c., letters from amos lawrence, to a friend, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , to his son, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , to a college student, , to gen. henry whiting, , , to a sister, , , , , , , , , to dr. gannett, to abbott lawrence, , , , , , , , , , , , to his wife, , , to a brother, , to his mother-in-law, to his sister-in-law, , to frederic wolcott, to his eldest son, abroad, , , , , , , , to his second son, at andover, , , , to daniel webster, , to his mother, , , , , , to his daughter, , , , , , , to his youngest son, to his sisters, , to a connection, to his second son, in europe, to rev. charles mason, to rev. robert turnbull, d.d., to hon. robert c. winthrop, to general ----, to mr. parker (a partner), , to the mechanic apprentices' library association, to president hopkins, , , , , , , , , , , , to his partners, , to his children in france, to his grandson, to r. g. parker, , to gov. briggs, to alexander s. mckenzie, to j. a. stearns, for lawrence association, to madam prescott, to sir wm. colebrooke, , to a wealthy bachelor, to prof. packard, , to mr. g----, to mr. and mrs. green, to a physician, to a newspaper editor, to rev. james hamilton, d.d., , , , , to his sons, to robert barnwell rhett, to a country clergyman, to an aged clergyman, to elliott cresson, to lady buxton, to a lady in philadelphia, to charles b. haddock, to rev. dr. scoresby, to. rev. geo. w. blagden, d.d., to a friend in south carolina, to benjamin seaver, to a lady in florida, to jonathan phillips, levelling, judge story's maxim of, loan of money to mr. lawrence by his father, lowell, charles, letter to mr. lawrence from, lowell, john, lunatic asylum, plan for the new, manufactures, engagement of mr. lawrence in, largeness of his interest in, fluctuations in, views of mr. lawrence respecting coarse and fine, marriage of amos lawrence, mason, charles, letter from mr. lawrence to, mason, jeremiah, , remarks of, on rev, dr. ----'s lectures, , death and character of, , mason, mrs. susan, mr. lawrence's letter on the death of, - massachusetts general hospital, place of trustee resigned by mr. lawrence, mather school, character of, mathew, father, matrimonial speculations, aversion of mr. lawrence to, maxims of business--speculation condemned, mcilvaine, charles p., letter from, to mr. lawrence, mckenzie, alexander s., letter to, from mr. lawrence, present of a cane to mr. lawrence from, death of, means, james, extract from address at jubilee of groton academy, by, means, robert, mercantile principles adopted by mr. lawrence, "milo," arrival of ship, money, advice about spending, morality and religion, mr. lawrence's distinction between, mortgage of his father's farm, mount auburn, interest taken in, by mr. lawrence, national character, reflections upon, , native americans, mr. lawrence's view of, natural history society, donation to, by mr. lawrence, old ladies' home, donation to, by mr. lawrence, "old oak," in mount auburn, , paine, robert treat, parker, c. h., letter to, parker, daniel p., parker, r. g., letter from to mr. lawrence, parker, susanna, parkman, messrs., percy, lord, perkins, thomas h., pestilence, dr. shattuck's account of the, - phelps, mrs., phillips, jonathan, letter from mr. lawrence to, respecting aid to williams college, donation from, to williams college, pierce, benjamin, son of president pierce, note from, to mr. lawrence, sudden death of, pierce, franklin, character of, , his intercourse with mr. lawrence, pitcairn, major, account of his death, removal of his remains to england, pitcairn, william, pond, rev. dr., prayer adopted by mr. lawrence, prescott, general, madam, note from mr. lawrence to, her views on the comforts of old age, presidential elector, mr. lawrence chosen in , prince, martial, property, memorandum-book of mr. lawrence respecting his, prudhoe, lord, rainsford island, visit to, and description of scenery, religion. (see morality.) its cultivation urged upon his daughter, - representative, mr. lawrence elected, richards, giles, his card manufactory, richards, sarah, mr. lawrence's engagement of marriage with, richardson, captain, sabbath, mr. lawrence's view of keeping the, savings institution. (see athenæum.) scenery, mr. lawrence's enjoyment of, , scoresby, wm., letter from mr. lawrence to, sea-serpent seen at hampton beach in , mr. lawrence's belief in the, mr. lawrence's belief in the existence of the, sectarianism, mr. lawrence's freedom from, sharp, daniel, , letters from, to mr. lawrence, , , shattuck, george c, his account of the new england pestilence, - shaw, robert g., , shipwreck, narrow escape of mr. lawrence from, slavery, views of mr. lawrence on questions of, view of its tendencies, contribution for freeing a negro from, south carolina, manufactures in, encouraged by mr. lawrence, sparks, jared, mr. lawrence a delegate to assist in the settlement of, story, joseph, letter from, to mr. lawrence, , his maxim of "levelling," stone, john s., letter from to mr. lawrence, stowe, harriet beecher, strachan, lady, stuart, moses, letter of thanks from, sullivan, william, tarbell, thomas, tribute to the memory of, taylor, father, zachary, preferred for president by mr. lawrence, tennett, mr., texas, letter of mr. lawrence to mayor chapman, on the annexation of, ticknor, george, tobacco, total abstinence from, by mr. lawrence, book against, circulated by mr. lawrence, letter respecting use of, touro, judah, his donation for bunker hill monument, turnbull, robert, letter from mr. lawrence to, uncle tom's cabin, lady buxton's testimony respecting, unitarianism, mr. lawrence's opinion of, , van schaick, m., vinton, alexander h., wabash college, donation from mrs. lawrence to, ward, general, ware, henry, jr., warren, john c., , , washington, general, celebration of his birth-day, webster, daniel, letter from mr. lawrence respecting, , mr. lawrence's view of his speech in reply to hayne, letter to mr. lawrence from, letter to, from mr. lawrence, accompanying a presentation of plate, letter from to mr. lawrence, remarks on his address at plymouth, view of his character by mr. lawrence, of his preparation for death, white, charles, account of his play, the "clergyman's daughter," , white, charles, president of wabash college, whiting, henry, clerk to mr. lawrence, will of amos lawrence, codicil to, williams college, mr. lawrence's interest in, donation of $ , to, by mr. lawrence, donation of $ , by mr. lawrence, for a library building at, enlargement of library building proposed, scholarships established in, by mr. lawrence, account of mr. lawrence's benefactions to, - donation to, by jonathan phillips, winship, dr., wolcott, frederic, letter to, from mr. lawrence, * * * * * important literary and scientific works, published by gould and lincoln, washington street, boston. annual of scientific discovery; or, year book of facts in science and art. by david a. wells, a. m. mo, cloth, $ . . this work, commenced in the year , and issued in the month of january, annually, embraces an enumeration and description of every important invention, discovery, or scientific theory, reported during the year. each volume is distinct in itself, and contains entirely new matter, with a fine portrait of some person distinguished for his attainments in science and art. lake superior; its physical character, vegetation, and animals. by l. agassiz, and others. one volume, octavo, elegantly illustrated. cloth, $ . . the plurality of worlds. new edition. with a supplementary dialogue, in which the author's reviewers are reviewed. mo, cloth, $ . . this masterly production, which has excited so much interest in this country and in europe, will now have increased attraction in the supplement, in which the author's reviewers are triumphantly reviewed. comparative anatomy of the animal kingdom. by prof. c. th. von siebold and h. stannius. translated, with notes, additions, &c., by waldo j. burnett, m. d. one vol., octavo, cloth, $ . . this is unquestionably the best and most complete work of its class ever yet published. works by hugh miller. the footprints of the creator; 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[pointing finger symbol] the map is elegantly colored, and done up with linen cloth back, and folded in octavo form, with thick cloth covers. knowledge is power. a view of the productive forces of modern society, and the results of labor, capital and skill. by charles knight. with numerous illustrations. american edition. revised, with additions, by david a. wells, editor of the "annual of scientific discovery." mo, cloth, $ . . cyclop�dia of anecdotes of literature and the fine arts. a choice selection of anecdotes of the various forms of literature, of the arts, of architecture, engravings, music, poetry, painting and sculpture, and of the most celebrated literary characters and artists of different countries and ages, &c. by kazlitt arvine, a. m. with numerous illustrations. pages, octavo, cloth, $ . . this is unquestionably the choicest collection of anecdotes ever published. it contains three thousand and forty anecdotes, and more than one hundred and fifty illustrations. it is admirably adapted to literary and scientific men, to artists, mechanics, and others, as a dictionary for reference, in relation to facts on the numberless subjects and characters introduced. kitto's popular cyclop�dia of biblical literature. condensed from the larger work, by the author, john kitto, d. d. assisted by james taylor, d. d. with _over illustrations_. octavo, pp., cloth, $ . . this work answers the purpose of a commentary, while at the same time it furnishes a complete dictionary of the bible, embodying the products of the best and most recent researches in biblical literature, in which the scholars of europe and america have been engaged. it is not only intended for ministers and theological students, but is also particularly adapted to parents, sabbath-school teachers, and the great body of the religious public. history of palestine. with the geography and natural history of the country, the customs and institutions of the hebrews, etc. by john kitto, d. d. with upwards of illustrations. mo, cloth; 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"it was my uniform custom, after every such interview, to take copious memoranda of the conversation, including an account of the individual's appearance and manners; in short, defining, as well as i could, the whole impression which his physical, intellectual, and moral man had made upon me." from the memoranda thus made, the material for the present instructive and exceedingly interesting volume is derived. besides these "pen and ink" sketches, the work contains the novel attraction of a fac simile of the signature of each of the persons introduced. pilgrimage to egypt; explorations of the nile. with observations, illustrative of the manners, customs, etc. by hon. j. v. c. smith, m. d. with numerous elegant engravings. mo, cloth, $ . . the story of the campaign. a complete narrative of the war in southern russia. written in a tent in the crimea. by major e. bruce hamley, author of "lady lee's widowhood." with a new and complete map of the seat of war. mo, paper covers, - / cts. poetical works. milton's poetical works. with life and elegant illustrations. mo, cloth, $ . ; fine cloth, gilt, $ . . poetical works of sir walter scott. with life, and illustrations on steel. mo, cl., $l; fine cl., gilt, $ . . complete poetical works of william cowper. with a life, and critical notices of his writings. with new and elegant illustrations on steel. mo, cloth, $ . ; fine cloth, gilt, $ . . ++- the above poetical works, by standard authors, are all of uniform size and style, printed on fine paper, from clear, distinct type, with new and elegant illustrations, richly bound in full gilt, and plain; thus rendering them, in connection with the exceedingly low price at which they are offered, the cheapest and most desirable of any of the numerous editions of these author's works now in the market. life and correspondence of john foster. edited by j. e. ryland, with notices of mr. foster as a preacher and a companion. by john sheppard. two volumes in one, pages. mo, cloth, $ . . in simplicity of language, in majesty of conception, in the eloquence of that conciseness which conveys in a short sentence more meaning than the mind dares at once admit,--his writings are unmatched.--[north british review. guido and julius. the doctrine of sin and the propitiator; or, the true consecration of the doubter. exhibited in the correspondence of two friends. by frederick augustus o. tholuch, d. d. translated by jonathan edwards ryland. with an introduction by john pye smith, d. d. mo, cloth, cents. new and complete condensed concordance to the holy scriptures. by alexander cruden. revised and re-edited by rev. david king, l.l. d. octavo, cloth backs, $ . ; sheep, $ . . * * * * * transcriber's note: on the fronstispiece: "truly yours amos lawrence" is hand written. in the table of contents the page number for chapter xxix has been changed from to . text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). text enclosed by +so+ is in blackletter font. small capital text has been replaced with all capitals. ++- refers to a right pointing finger symbol. on the frontispiece: handwritten note is unclear, but may read "truly yours amos lawrence". page : abbott lawrence's signature is handwritten below his picture. variations in spelling, punctuation and hyphenation have been retained except in obvious cases of typographical error. the cover for the ebook version of this book was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain. file was produced from scans of public domain material produced by microsoft for their live search books site.) in the desert of waiting the legend of camel-back mountain [frontispiece: a man in arab dress, surrounded by large water jars and flowering bushes, looks beyond a camel asleep under palm trees to the sun rising behind distant dunes] in the desert of waiting the legend of camel-back mountain by annie fellows johnston author of "the little colonel series," "big brother," "joel: a boy of galilee," etc. "_thy alchemist contentment be_"--sadi boston l. c. page & company _publishers_ copyright, , by l. c. page & company (_incorporated_) copyright, , by l. c. page & company (_incorporated_) _all rights reserved_ eighth impression, july, o ye, who vainly question why there must ever lie twixt man and the far city of his desire some desert waste of disappointment, where he must watch the caravan pass on and leave him with his baffled hopes, here is the reason. by the grace of allah, read! once upon a time, a caravan set out across the desert, laden with merchandise for a far distant market. some of the camels bore in their packs wine-skins that held the richest vintage of the orient. some bore tapestries and some carried dyestuffs and the silken fruits of the loom. on shapur's camel was a heavy load of salt. the hope of each merchant was to reach the city of his desire before the golden gate should close. there were other gates by which they might enter, but this one, opening only once a year to admit the visiting rajahs from sister cities, afforded a rare opportunity to those fortunate enough to arrive at the same time. it was the privilege of any who might fall in with the royal retinue, to follow in the train to the palace of the ruling rajah, and thus gain access to its courtyards. wares displayed there for sale often brought fabulous sums, a hundred fold greater, sometimes, than when offered in the open market. only to a privileged few would the golden gate swing open at any other time. it would turn on its hinges for a messenger sent at a king's behest, or to any one bearing wares so rare and precious that only princes could purchase, but no common vendor could hope to pass its shining portal, save in the rear of the train that yearly followed the rajahs. so they urged their beasts with all diligence. foremost in the caravan and most zealous of all was shapur. in his heart burned the desire to be the first one to enter the golden gate, and the first one at the palace with his wares. but half way across the desert, as they paused at an oasis to rest, a dire lameness fell upon his camel, and it sank upon the sand. in vain he urged it to continue its journey. the poor beast could not rise under its great load. sack by sack he lessened its burden, throwing it off grudgingly and with sighs, for he was minded to lose as little as possible of his prospective fortune. but even rid of the entire load the camel could not rise, and shapur was forced to let his companions go on without him. for long days and nights he watched beside his camel, bringing it water from the fountain, and feeding it with the herbage of the oasis, and at last was rewarded by seeing it struggle to its feet and take a few limping steps. in his distress of mind at being left behind by the caravan he had not noticed where he had thrown his load. a tiny rill trickling down from the fountain had run through the sacks and dissolved the salt, and when he went to gather up his load only a paltry portion was left, a single sackful. "now allah has indeed forgotten me!" he cried, and, cursing the day he was born, he rent his mantle and beat upon his breast. even if his camel were able to set out across the desert it would be useless to seek a market, now that his merchandise was destroyed. so he sat upon the ground, his head bowed in his hands. water there was for him to drink, and the fruit of the date palm, and the cooling shade of many trees; but he counted them all as naught. a fever of unrest consumed him. a baffled ambition bowed his head in the dust. when he looked at his poor camel kneeling in the sand he cried out, "ah, woe is me! of all men i am most miserable! of all dooms mine is most unjust! why should i, with life beating strong in my veins, and ambition like a burning simoon in my breast, be left here helpless on the sands, where i can achieve nothing and make no progress towards the city of my desire?" one day, as he sat thus under the palms, a bee buzzed about him. he brushed it away, but it returned so persistently that he looked up with languid interest. "where there are bees there must be honey," he said. "if there be any sweetness in this desert, better that i should go in its quest than sit here bewailing my fate." leaving the camel browsing by the fountain he followed the bee. for many miles he pursued it, till far in the distance he beheld the palm trees of another oasis. he quickened his steps, for an odor rare as the perfumes of paradise floated out to meet him. the bee had led him to the rose gardens of omar. now omar was an alchemist, a sage with the miraculous power of transmuting the most common things of earth into something precious. the fame of his skill had travelled to far countries. so many pilgrims sought him to beg his wizard touch, that the question, "where is the house of omar?" was heard daily at the gates of the city. but for a generation that question had remained unanswered. no man knew the place of the house of omar since he had taken upon himself the life of a hermit. somewhere, they knew, in the solitude of the desert, he was practising the mysteries of his art, and probing deeper into its secrets, but no one could point to the path leading thither. only the bees knew, and, following the bee, shapur found himself in the old alchemist's presence. now shapur was a youth of gracious mien, and pleasing withal. with straightforward speech he told his story, and omar, who could read the minds of men as readily as unrolled parchments, was touched by his tale. he bade him come in and be his guest until sundown. so shapur sat at his board and shared his bread, and rose refreshed by his wine and his wise words. and at parting, the old man said with a keen glance into his eyes: "thou thinkest that because i am omar, with the power to transmute all common things into precious ones, how easily i could take the remnant of salt that is still left to thee in thy sack, and change it into gold. then couldst thou go joyfully on to the city of thy desire, as soon as thy camel is able to carry thee, far richer for thy delay." shapur's heart gave a bound of hope, for that is truly what he had been thinking. but at the next words it sank. "nay, shapur, each man must be his own alchemist. believe me, for thee the desert holds a greater opportunity than kings' houses could offer. give me but thy patient service in this time of waiting, and i will share such secrets with thee that when thou dost finally win thee to the golden gate, it shall be with wares that shall gain for thee a royal entrance." then shapur went back to his camel, and in the cool of the evening urged it to its feet, and led it slowly across the sands; and because it could bear no burdens he lifted the remaining sack of salt to his own back and carried it on his shoulders all the way. when the moon shone white and full in the zenith he reached the rose gardens of omar. he knocked on the gate, calling, "here am i, omar, at thy bidding, and here is the remnant of my salt. all that i have left i bring to thee, and stand ready now, to yield my patient service." then omar bade him lead his camel to the fountain, and leave him to browse upon the herbage around it. pointing to a row of great stone jars he said, "there is thy work. every morning, before the sunrise, they must be filled with rose-petals plucked from the myriad roses of the garden, and the petals covered with water from the fountain." "a task for poets," thought shapur, as he began. "what more delightful than to stand in the moonlighted garden and pluck the velvet leaves?" but after awhile the thorns tore his hands and the rustle and hiss underfoot betrayed the presence of serpents, and sleep weighed heavily upon his eyelids. it grew monotonous standing hour after hour, stripping the rose-leaves from the calyxes, until thousands and thousands and thousands had been dropped into the great jars. the very sweetness of the task began to cloy his senses. when the stars had faded and the east was beginning to brighten, old omar came out. "'tis well," he said, viewing his work. "now break thy fast and then to slumber, to prepare for another sleepless night." so long months went by, till it seemed to shapur that the garden must surely become exhausted. but for every rose he plucked another bloomed in its stead, and night after night he filled the jars. still he was learning no secrets, and as the deadly monotony of his task began to eat into his soul he grew restless and began to ask himself questions. "was he not wasting his life? would it not have been better to have waited by the other fountain until some caravan passed by that would have carried him out of the desert solitude to the dwellings of men? what opportunity was the desert offering him greater than kings' houses could give?" and ever the thorns tore him more sorely, and the lonely silence of the night weighed upon him. many a time he would have left his task had not the shadowy form of his camel, kneeling outside by the fountain, seemed to whisper to him through the starlight, "patience, shapur! patience!" once, far in the distance, he saw the black outline of a merchant caravan, passing along the horizon, where day was beginning to break. he did no work until it had passed from sight. gazing after it, with a fierce longing to follow, he pictured the scenes it was moving towards--the gilded minarets of the mosques, the deep-toned ringing of bells, the cheerful hum of the populace, and all the life and stir of the market-place. when the shadowy procession had passed the great silence of the desert smote him like a pain. again looking out he saw his faithful camel, and again it seemed to whisper, "patience, shapur, patience! so thou, too, shall fare forth some day to the city of thy desire!" one day in the waning of summer omar called him into a room in which he had never been before. "now, at last," said he, "thou hast proved thyself worthy to be the sharer of my secrets. come! i will show thee. thus are the roses distilled, and thus is gathered up the precious oil floating on the tops of the vessels. seest thou this tiny vial? it weighs but the weight of one rupee, but it took the sweetness of two hundred thousand roses to make the attar it contains, and so costly is it that only princes may purchase. it is worth more than thy entire load of salt that was washed away at the fountain." shapur worked diligently at this new task, until there came a day when omar said to him, "well done, shapur! behold the gift of the desert, its reward for thy patient service in its solitude!" he placed in shapur's hands a crystal vase, sealed with a seal, and filled with the precious attar. "wherever thou goest this sweetness will open for thee a way and win for thee a welcome. thou camest into the desert a common vendor of salt, thou shalt go forth an apostle of my alchemy. wherever thou seest a heart bowed down in some desert of waiting, thou shalt whisper to it, 'patience! here if thou wilt, in these arid sands, thou mayst find thy garden of omar, and even from the daily tasks that prick thee sorest, distil some precious attar to sweeten all life.' so like the bee that led thee to my teaching, thou shalt lead others to hope." then shapur went forth with the crystal vase, and the camel, healed in its long time of waiting, bore him swiftly across the sands to the city of his desire. the golden gate, that would not have opened to the vendor of salt, swung wide for the apostle of omar. princes brought their pearls to exchange for drops of his attar, and everywhere he went its sweetness opened for him a way and won for him a welcome. wherever he saw a heart bowed down in some desert of waiting he whispered omar's words and tarried to teach omar's alchemy, that from the commonest experiences of life may be distilled its greatest blessings. at his death, in order that men might not forget, he willed that his tomb should be made at a certain place where all caravans passed. there at the crossing of the highways he caused to be cut in stone that symbol of patience, the camel, kneeling on the sand. and it bore this inscription, which no one could fail to see as he toiled past toward the city of his desire: "patience! here, if thou wilt, on these arid sands, thou mayst find thy garden of omar, and even from the daily tasks which prick thee sorest distil some precious attar to bless thee and thy fellow man." a thousand moons waxed and waned above it, then a thousand more, and there arose a generation with restless hearts, who set their faces ever westward, following the sun towards a greater city of desire. strange seas they crossed. new coasts they came upon. some were satisfied with the fair valleys that tempted them to tarry, and built them homes where the fruitful hills whispered stay. but always the sons of shapur pushed ahead, to pitch their tents a day's march nearer the city of their desire, nearer the golden gate which opened every sunset to let the royal rajah of the day pass through. like a mirage that daily vision lured them on, showing them a dream gate of opportunity, always just ahead, yet ever out of reach. as in the days of shapur, so it was in the days of his sons. there were some who fell by the way, and, losing all that made life dear, cried out as the caravans passed on without them, that allah had forgotten them; and they cursed the day that they were born, and laid hopeless heads in the dust. but allah, the merciful, who from the beginning knew what desert of waiting must lie between every son of shapur and the city of his desire, had long before stretched out his hand over one of the mountains of his continent. with earthquake shock it sank before him. with countless hammer strokes of hail and rain-drops, and with gleaming rills he chiselled it, till as the centuries rolled by it took the semblance of that symbol of patience, a camel, kneeling there at the passing of the ways. and now, to every heart bowed down and hopeless, it whispers the lesson that shapur learned in his weary desert of waiting: _"patience! thou camest into the desert a vendor of salt; thou mayst go forth an alchemist, distilling from life's tasks and sorrows such precious attar in thy soul, that its sweetness shall win for thee a welcome wherever thou goest, and a royal entrance into the city of thy desire!"_ the end and this, o son of shapur, is the secret of omar's alchemy: to gather something from every one thou passest on the highway, and from every experience fate sends thee, as omar gathered from the heart of every rose, and out of the wide knowledge thus gained of human weaknesses and human needs, to distil in thine own heart the precious oil of sympathy. that is the attar that shall win for thee a welcome wherever thou goest. and no man fills his crystal vase with it until he has first been pricked by the world's disappointments, and bowed by its tasks. thou vendor of salt, who, as yet, canst follow only in the train of others, is not any waiting well worth the while, if, in the end, it shall give thee wares with which to gain a royal entrance?