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Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mAthode. rata elure, 3 32X 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 _J \ ftm TO THE PUBLIC, In preparing the YOUNG AMERICA SERIES Jor our readers and the public at large, it has been our aim not only to secure the best literary talent available but also to reach as near perfection as possible in the illustrations and general make-up. The very kind reception given to " Tan Pile Jim " and "Dick and fack," and the general demand for another volume from the pen of B. Freeman Ashley, assure us that this gifted author has struck, vnth his brilliant, wholesome and instructive stories, a permanent vein of favor among young and old. " The Heari of a Boy'' {Cuore), by the greatest of modem Italian novelists has been added to the Series on amount of its immense popularity among teachers, pupils and all readers of pure literature. That the YOUNG AMERICA SERIES, having found a place in every library, may be the means of elevating the minds of beys and girls "from 7 1070" and furnish them at all times with healthy recreation, is, and will ever be, the earnest desire of THE PUBLISHERS. y ERIESjor m our aim le but also to 'rations and I 'Jim " and for another jsure us that t, wholesome avor among greatest of e Series on •hers, pupils The Young America Series AIR CASTLE DON; Or, From Dreamland To Hardpan ■'3*-^] By B. freeman >^SHLEY Author of " Tan PtI* Jtn," " Dick and Jack's Advanturtt," etc., ate. ILLUSTRATED Some dreams we have are nothing else but dreams, Unnatural and full of contradictions; Yet others of our most romantic schemes Are sometimes more than fictions. —Thomas Hood. CHICAGO LAIRD ft LEE. PUBLISHERS S N\\\ .-^ VN \ ~S, V iiiaStfft'r- ■'-'' ii'i-'-^i'r ■■■Bi -fa. .wr. * . ~ **t.fc M ^ia tr »i*»lMgt)iti fei i i ii i « iiia> rtffiM iiB ^>i taiiiMm»Miw I c^ ^ EnwrM ^sconUng to Act of Congre« m the year eighteen hniulr«d and nlnety-alx, by -VtriliUAM B. UEE, m the oOoe of Uie Ubrarlan of Congrwa at Wa8l»lnKU.n. (AUi BlOHTt KM»HV"D.l m elghtMn Dgloa WriY NOT? We now come to our readers with a story of city Ufe in con- tinuation of our experiment of writing about things which have hitherto remained, in great part, unexplored. The readers of a book seldom have an opportunity to Ulk back to an author. The author, for his part, would be glad to have hie readers talk back at him; he would like to come into closer touch with them. Suppose then that when you have read this book, you — no matter what your age, sex or opinions may be — sit down and give the writer a bit of your mind on this book, and iU mates, if you have read them. And while you are about it, suppose you also tell him what kind of books you like to have written for young people from seven to seventy. It would be fun for you, and, doubtless, would be fun for the author also. Send along your letters. They shall be answered by an autographic letter from the author, that is, if he be not smothered under them before he gets a chance to answer. Why not ? B. Pkbsmam Asblbv. Care of Laird & Lbb, Chicago. ■ f ". ' -*ir~ Table or Contents PAOI Introducca Don Donalda 9 Thel^adyoftheLakcClub ....... 18 Don Makes Two Moves M In the City of Notions m An Attic Philosopher 50 Looking for a Situation 61 Don Has a Great Day 79 The Backbone ofthe Black Art 81 Paying for a Disappointment 91 Old Failings Revive 100 Deep Water Soundings 109 Adrift Again lao I Sailed, As They Sailed 805 On Hannah Screechum's Island 817 A Parting Look Into the Kaleidoscope .... 881 ^■liW«liMiiiiii"-|tY-i I III ijiiiypp.^^i i i i ta»|iwM AIR CASTLE DON; Or, From Dreamland to Hardpan. CHAPTER I. INTRODUCES DON DONALDS. It is possible for a boy to keep still, and that, too, without being either crippled or dumb, asleep or dead. For instance, there was Don Donalds. He sat upon a grassy bluff below which there was a raceway through which rapid water tinkled with perpetual music, and beyond which was a rocky islet dividing the raceway from a small river that ran over a stony bottom to a deep pool a short distance below. His back rested against a mossy stonewall built by pioneers whose very mem- ory had perished from the face of the earth. Behind the wall there was an old apple orchard that was a Mecca for boy pilgrims from t'le time of the earliest green apple to the time when the last frost-mellowed one hung on the topmost bough a sun-painted prize for him who had a searching eye and enter- prising legs and hands. When Don sat there the spring birds, holding undisputed possession, were experiencing the song- provoking raptures of mating and nest building, while the wind stirred through the leaves whispering strange stories o£ its adventures in earth and sky. (9) "'>iirti)iii*»iii 'iiii'iT'''T'rnriiiniWiliMi^ ■mLmmm 10 AIR CASTLE DON One patriarchal tree, whose juices ran to sweet apples, stretched a long sturdy branch over the wall and held a thick canopy of leaves over the boy's head to protec' him from the rati.er fervid heat of the rapidly nooning sun. Two robins had selected the very center of the canopy for their nest, and as it was not among their calculations to have a boy so near, they scolded at him from above, and in their restless protests against his intrusion shook down showers of blossoms upon him. Perceiving that he took no notice of their presence, and was as still as the stones against which he leaned, they went about their business. A chipmonk, however, seemed to take up the fears they had discarded. He was making a journey on the top of the wall, and coming to where Don sat, he gave him notice to get out of the way by scolding at him with a series of diminutive barks that sounded like the abdominal squeaks of a toy dog. As no notice was taken of him he sat up c : the topmost stone of the wall, and for a moment meditated in silence. What manner of boy could this boy be that would let a chipmonk come in sight without attempting to molest him, and that, too, when pebbles were within reach of hand? He ran by, and not satisfied with his meditations, sat up again and whisked his tail in another attempt to solve the mystery surrounding the still figure. He could see that Don's eyes were open, and that his chest gave evidence of . his being breathingly alive, but that was about all. The> chipmonk passed on his way, but his subdued manner said as plainly as any manner could, "I give it up. That boy beats any nut I ever attempted to crack." There was nothing mentally or physically wrong with Don that he should keep so phenomenally still. His dark, viva- cious eyes were filled with -slumbering fires of thought, and his lively face and reasonably stalwart linidbs gave countenance to I .ft,"^?,;,. - ,J^.,Am*»- AIR CASTLE DON 11 the supposition that he was at that stage of his existence when the monkey propensities of human nature are at their highest. He, in fact, could clear a wall at a bound, and vie with any noises common to the average boy throat, and was not slow to join in the athletic sports or roystering rackets of his fellow boys. Perhaps he was looking at things around h'm, and listening to the varied sounds that punctured the silence of the scenery. Swallows and martins raced dizzily in the air and occasionally dipped with crazy motions into the waters of the stream. A milk-white flock of geese squatted on the green grass of the islet pluming their feathers and quacking about their adven- tures in the pool below. Beyond them a dozen or more of crows were quarrelling over a herring that one of them had pulled from among the shore rocks of the stream. A fish- hawk circled high in the sky above them watching for a chance to descend and claim the herring for his own, or to make a swoop upon some of the trout that; ignorant of danger, occa- sionally shot above the surface of the water in pursuit of insects hovering temptingly near. On the far side of the stream, the stones of the village grist- mill monotonously grumbled as they ground out their daily grist of oats and barley. On the near side, the single saw of a dilapidated sawmill growled hoarsely as it danced up and down and struck its big teeth into the vitals of a great oaken log that was being turned into ship plank. Above the bridge which crossed below the mills the low, vibrant thunder of the dam predominated over all other sounds, reducing them to a gen- eral harmony, so that even the whang of the blacksmith's sledge, and the whock of the carpenter's hammer striking on the other side of the stream were made tributary to the concord. /4R P* WW !^,4^»J1P)^| l'l,ipi| ;*W? 12 AIR CASTLE DON Btit Don was paying no attention to things visible or audible; and he remained as silent as the vacant church, school- house and courthouse that formed the still group of public buildings on the far side of the stream. A cow with a bell at her throat came up the bluff and tinkingly grazed her way to his feet without having any more notice taken of her, or of her gently surprised moo than if she were not put on four legs for boys to throw stones at or to torment in sundry other ways. Like the robins and the chipmonk, she wondered at him awhile, asking all sorts of questions of her internal self and then passed munchingly on to where taller blades of grass invited the coil of her industrious tongue. Don had removed his hat— a curious chip made from the strippings of a birch by an ancient Indian squaw for his especial benefit — and had put it over a small flat stone to the great terror of a pair of field mice that had been watching him from beneath. Don was reading a book; and this was the secret of his apparent indifference to things in Heaven, things on earth and things under the earth. The book was so absorb- ing that the whole outer world was as if it were not. Not far distant, standing upon the middle bridge of the thrice divided stream, and leaning upon the rail was another figure almost as motionless as Don himself. It was the figfure of an old Scotch flsherman, who had wandered around the world so long and had seen so much of human nature, and, other things, that his chief refrain was " Vanity of vanities; all is vanity." This was Peter Piper of whom Madge, Don's sister, declared, that he was the very Peter who picked a peck of pickled peppers — the Peter Piper of the pronouncing puzzle that Avard Doane, the village schoolmaster used to test his thick-speeched pupils by. And she further declared that there was no need of asking, Where's the peck of pickled peppers "^^g P jfiW '".-. ". • ^ ' ^" ' 't j w v - j;^vtV!.f« i! !^/« ' )5iPVwp*?w^f ! V '' ^ ^ ■■f'WjH P Wyyi^^ yi.y AIR OASTCB DON 18 lible or school- public bell at way to ir of her egs for •r ways, at him self and of grass that Peter Piper picked? for he carried them about with him and was always ready to administer liberal doses of them to both yoang arid old on the slightest provocation. Her belief in his sour and peppery disposition grew mainly from the fact that he had once reproved her for doing her hair up in curl papers. Peter was in some respects the victim of popular injustice. Although the softer soil of his heart had been covered by irrup- tions of hard experience, it was not destroyed, and one had but to go deep enough to find it. At that very moment he was thinking of the native cottage and land from which he had wandered so long and so far; and like many another of us older ones, he was sighing for the days of his youth. And knowing that they could never return in this life, he was trying to console himself with the thought that some of the things that he learned in the "auld kirk at hame" would turn out to be more than true in the life to come. In his own way he was saying to himself: I am far frae my hame,' an' I'm weary aften-whiles. For the langed hamc-bringin', an' my Father's welcome smiles. An' I'll ne'er be fu' content till mine een do see The gowden gates o' Heaven an' my ain countree. m Shaking his tears into the stream to dry his eyes, he com- pressed his quivering lips and resolutely lifting his head he thumped his gnarled stick vigorously upon the planks of the bridge in protest against his melting mood. Just then he caught sight of Don and his book, and the sight restored to him his peck of pickled peppers. When Peter saw a boy reading a book at his own sweet will — free from all compulsory tutorings, and in a comer by — ^"i lii|i |--'-Tmiii ri iltiMil iii iiii wmm^ mmm ■p"«iw»w^^^rT ■-^'^••»iT% wt f"»^^^: ' ^n'yi^ J > ' i» ' ^ 14 AIR OASTLB DON himself, he at once jumped to the conclusion that he was read- ing something that ought not to be read. He doubtless remembered ilie escapades of his own young days, and judged the lad by his own misdoings, as is apt to be tne case wi^h those who have indicting memories. "Gin I were the daddy o' that lad," he wrathily exclaimed, "I'd take all his haverings an' burn them afore all men, an' gie him fu' screeptural authority for that same: See Acts o' the Apostles, nineteenth chapter an' nineteenth varse. An' gin thfit wadna cure his appetite for all sich cantankerosities, I'd supplement the fire wi' a gfude birch rod: See Proverbs twinty-third an' fourteenth: 'Thou shalt beat him with the rod, and shalt save his sou' from hell.' " It eased Peter's recollection of his own shortcomings to think that here was a chance to discover and comment upon the failings of others. And he continued: "See what comes o' havin' a' meenister for a daddy wha preaches sae much at ither people there's naethin' left for his ain bairns. 'If a man know not how to rule his own house, how shall he take care of the house of God?' See fust Timothy, third chapter an' fifth varse. Charity begins at home; see — see — ^Aye, Peter, where did ye see it? Ye ought to know that it's no* in the buik, an' is not a text o' the elect." ** And having tired of talking to himself, and to make amends for having quoted unscriptural authority, Peter determined to interfare with Don's reading, and to find out for himself what he was reading. Don was so absorbed in his book that he didn't notice Peter till he was close upon him. Without ceremony Peter touched the book with his stick and said with his whole peck of pickled peppers in his mouth: "Ye'll be readin' Fox's Book o' Martyrs, or The Lives o' The Saints, the noo?" :; '±.^; .*iL2i*>'***'*'i» ^^■- m ' m ' . ' ii «....i.iy i .H «l l,l I J. l i i ■I' . -JB rWl'U ' WJ'. W ! !'^' ' "wsr AIR 0A8TLB DON 16 Don had had many encounters witH the Scotchman, encounters which he rather enjoyed than feared, and he replied laughingly: "No, Mr. Piper; I took those bitter doses when I was coniinu up from the scarlet fever, and because Betty Crowell brought them in and said they were good for sick boys. But that was a bad day for the books, for the Doctor ordered them into the stove after I got through with them lest they should give the scarlet fever to somebody else. Betty has been mourning for them ever since." "More's the peety! Gin ye had filled yersel' wi' them ye'd be more likely to make a mon o' yersel'." And seeing that Don was not disposed to volunteer infortpation about the book in h^md, Peter added : "Maybe it's the Scotch varsion o' the Psalms ye' re tunin' yer soul wi." "I didn't know that the Scotch had written any Psalms," said Don, half innocently and half mischievously. "Hoot, laddie 1 I said 'varsion.' Dinna ye ken the meanin' o' varsion, an' ye a meenister's son? Gin ye'd ben nursed at the paps o* the Old School Presbyterians, like mysel*, ye'd no' be the coof ye are\this minute." And not to be diverted from his purpose, Peter returned to the charge. "I make free to say that the buik ye're spierin' into belangs to the frogs an' the lice kind which hae come into the land for its wickedness. That's the cause o' your eegnorance of the var- sion. 'Ephraim is joined to his idols': See Hosea, fourth chapter an' seventeenth varse. An' may the Lord hae marcy on your^oul afore ye're given up to a reprobate mind, for ye're bewitched wi' wickedness." "Yes, I am bewitched; and if Sir Walter Scott is wicked- ness I am beivitched with wickedness, for I am reading Peveril of the Peak, and this is not the first of his books I have read." Don spoke proudly when he should have spoken with some .MiidMiMiulMAWiaiUl^^ Biiiii 16 AIR 0A8TLB DON twinges of conscience. He had read Scott to an excess. His head was full of castles and towers; moats and drawbridges; shining steel and brilliant banners; gallant knights and beauti- ful ladies, and stirring trumpets and thrilling tournaments. Under the wand of The Wizard of the North he had gone straight up to the clouds, where he lived more than was good for his mind. The moment he mentioned Sir Walter Scott, Peter changed; his gray eyes became luminous, and his world- seamed face shared in the glow of his eyes. For the time being he forgot the Book of Martyrs, The Lives of The Saints and The Scotch Version of The Psalms. "Sir Walter Scott!" he exclaimed with g^rowing excitment. "He was the canniest Scot that ever climbed a hill or drew in the breath of the heather! I was born in sight o' bonny Abbotsford. When I was but a lad aft hae I seen him roamin' the gray hills wi' his high bred dogs. His face was like the sun shinin' aboon the mountains. These lugs o' mine hae heard his voice soundin', sometimes like the waters amang the rushes, an' sometimes likr the flood comir' down the brae. Mony's the time I hae got him a flower frae the cliff or fetched him a pebble frae the bottom o' the brook. He wasna a snob always a fearin' his respectability might dissolve in a shower, but he took my gifts an' thankt me for them, an' talked about them like a gentleman. An' when I carried him a pair o' sal- mon ye wadhaethocht I were a givin' him a crown. He didna forget that he was a lad ance, an' though he became a lord he was not ashamed to own the bairns wi' whom he played. Ye mind his words in Marmion: And much I miss those sportive boys. Companions of my mountain joys. Just at the age 'twixt boy and youth. When thought is speech, and speech is truth." gpii • excess. His drawbridges; ts and beauti- tournaments. he had gone lan was good Scott, Peter d his world- For the time of The Saints ng excitment. lill or drew in ght o' bonny n him roamin' B was like the ; o' mine hae ers amang the Dwn the brae, cliflf or fetched wasna a snob e in a shower, t' talked about n a pair o' sal- vn. He didna :ame a lord he le played. Ye AIR OABTLB DON It y/w >»'A2., .^ .. . .. -■ -'.;— J --^isi^i....... ..■.,...:l»,.... ,>„jf.i-:--,.- -• •-' i i^| ; j g | ^ ( [ i f^|•'^1 ^ ^^fil■r l |ll | r )|l il^rflt^r'■~ff^^f^ ^■^ mmm CHAPTER II. THB LADY OP TH8 LAKB CLUB. -' Barrington Head was so far removed from the bustle of the outside world that not even a telegraph instrument clicked to disturb its quiet. The weekly stage arrivals, and the Sun- day gatherings at the two 'meeting houses' v/erc the most exciting events of . "rent history. An occasional gale of wind with a seasoning jf thunder in it was welcomed for var- iety's sake. The people went to bed betimes and rose up early to greet the first rays of the sun. When the village school was in session there was a pleasant hum of life in its vicinity, for the youth of both sexes were no exception to the'r kind when they gathered on the green before the bell rang, or poured out in noisy tumult when the welcome times of recess released them from their books. The court house by the school seldom or never had a trial to disturb its vacancy and stillness. When the circuit judge made his annual visitation, the most he ever did was to put on his robe and wig, and then in addition draw on his white gloves in com- pliance with the customs of the time as a sign that his docket was white or empty of cases. With this formality the court was adjourned and His Honor hied to the stream to angle for trout till it was time for him to f;o to some other place to go through with the same arduoiis ceremonies. There was so little litigation in the h^mlel; ihat no lawyer deemed it worth his while to become a rccident of it. The people knew their own business and attended to it without any legal aid. (i8) MNHHMI AIR 0A8TLB DON. 19 ic bustle of lent clicked \d the Sun- c the most nal gale of ned for var- 3se up early IS a pleasant xes were no 1 the green lit when the books. or never less. When , the most I wig, and ;s in com- U his docket ity the court to angle for r place to go 'here was so ned it worth e knew their aid. It would have taken a day's travel to discover a liquor saloon. Any attempt to fix such a curse upon the community would have resulted In the tipping of the building into the river without the benefit of either judge or jury. Drunkards were as scarce as white elephants. Nevertheless, quiet as was the hamlet it was the home of mariners who did business upon the great waters, and who went down tothe sea in ships and sailed with them unto the utter- most parts of the earth. And not a few born in these scenes of silence became the occupants of exalted stations in centers of both commercial and political activity. Don lived in an old colonial house near the bluflF on which we found him sitting Arjth his book. The gabled residence was a house of many rooms each one of which was finished in a style suggestive of a wealth of wood and no end of time. By the irony of Fate or the miscalculations of the builder, the two porches of the rear of the house fronted upon the pub- lic highway, while, by way of contradiction, the quite elaborate front backed upon the orchard through which no visitor ever thought of making an approach to the premises. Not so much as a footpath invited from that direction, for the orchard was bounded by a thornhedge, and the thornhedge by a salt meadow that ended in the waters of the harbor — a deep dented bay scooped out by the Atlantic during the innumerable years of unrecorded time. One gable of the paint-despising building faced a turn in the road, and the old sawmill; and the other commanded an extended view of the winding highway along which were scattered the few houses of the hamlet that seemed in danger of tumbling into the boundless contiguity of space or into the dark evergreen forest that belted the sea-jagged ^oast. One of the porches — the one that served as the main inliiMrim ■iMMliita f^mm 90 AIR 0A8TLB DON ■'• entrance to this woodon cave — opened into a large room or kitchen whostc* most noticeable object was the great fireplace flanked on either side with v iwning ovens deeply set in the enormous chimney. The crane and andirons, and great bul- ging pots and kettles might have served for the kitchen uten- sils of the Cyclopean monster whose single eye Homer's hero punched out with the burning stake. The fuel for this omniv- orous fire-cave was am|>ly furnished by the waste slabs and logs from the convenient sawmill. The narrow window open- ing between the two porches afforded a dim light to the odd reception room into which no visitor entered for the first time without experiencing both surprise and curiosity. The gen- eral furniture of the room was largely extemporized by family skill from the scantlings of the mill-yard. The ample cooking facilities were exceptionally convenient for the Donalds family, the offspring being both numerous and healthy. And visitors were so frequent that it was seldom the house was without one or more guests. Now it was the lord bishop or the chief justice of the province, and then a patent medicine vender, or a lecturer who carried an accordeon with which to increase his chance of a hearing. The house, how- ever, was not a hostelry; that dignity was reserved to the Homer Hotel, situated on the green opposite, whose keep-ir was a county celebrity, a member of the provincial parliament, and a man of such knowledge and oratorical ability that when he mounted the hustings the people bowed before his eloquence as the tree -tops bow before the wind. His guests seldom left his hotel without first paying their respects to the old house and its occupants, and it thus happened that the Donalds, both small and great, were kept well apprised of the current gossip of the world without. room or fireplace let in the rreat bul- hcn uten- ler's hero lis omniv- slabs and low opcn- o the odd ; first time The gcn- by family convenient nerous and seldom the as the lord en a patent trdeon with lousc, how- •ved to the lose keep-r parliament, lat when he s eloquence seldom left e old house onalds, both rrent gossip As Don knew the haunts of the trout, and was skilled in the lures best adapted to them, he was in fre(|ui*nt dcman place as this?" "She was built in the woods by Jacob Kendrick, a man who knew as much, about Sir Walter Scott's poems as he did about his Bible, and what he didn't know about the Bible was sc.ircely worth knowing;" and Don answered with spirit. "Built in the woods?" Barry exclaimed, with increasing surprise. "Yes; three miles above this; back of Oak Park; two of them. The other one was called The Youth. The Lady is about twenty-five tons burthen, and the other was about nine- teen tons." "How did they get them down to the sea?" Barry inter- rupted, believing that he had stumbled upon a new thing under the sun. "They put them in cradles, and the cradles on rollers and hauled them down with a long row of oxen to low water mark ; and when the tide came in, they floated as trimly as though they had been built in a regular shipyard and had gone into the sea on tallowed skids." "And you saw all this with your own eyes?" and Barry looked into Don's eyes as if searching the retina for some pho- tograpii of the scene. "Oh, no, but it's just as true as if I did. That was more than thirty years ago; and the little craft out there having served her day, is no longer fit for sea. She is now head- quarters for The Lady of The Lake Club, and but for the club she would have been torn to pieces long before this." i;Vi* ■■ '•fSh'-ti. >lmu^. f^^^ -SW^Sr- -ffwJT'WTWf Ifr*"^ AIR 0A8TLB DON y compre- nd discov- II her run- ir-halliards rhe railing ^g showed e club had iely to the turned the d pushing )f the little I the cabin. 1 Krom the ade, which igth of the see better," ir end of a d the artist ten candles, the cabin, latly by the ipery and a t down and lat was not plain spaces ittle shelves Tom forest, him was a :s that hung "What's all this?" Barry asked, going up to the garments £nd fingering them over. Don almost giggled at the artist's eager curiosity, and said: "When the ship Anglo-Saxon was cast away on Cape Island several years ago she had on board a whole company of actors and actresses who were bound for England. All were safely rescued and sent to Halifax. Among the few things saved was the theatrical outfit of the company. At the auction of the wreckage no one wished to buy the 'unholy stuff', and it was stowed away in an old shed. To prevent it from rotting uselessly v/e took possesion of it for the benefit of the club. It's all there from the royal garments of the king and queen down to the cap and bells of the king's fool. The robes are rather the worse for the wear, but I guess they will hang together as long as the club does." "This is a brand new freak of rustic juvenility," said Barry scratching his eyebrows vigorously. "Tell me more about your club." "We have heard that secret societies call their officers by the biggest names they can get, and then buy robes to fit the names. Examples are catching, you know." "Who are your officers, and what do you call them?" "Arnold Doane, Most Sovereign Potentate ; James Doane, Grand Viceroy; Joshua Smith, Sublime Scribe; John Perry, Sublime Warden of Pounds Shillings and Pence ; James Cox, Sublime Door Defender; Joshua Harding and John Homer, Jr., Sublime Marshals of Pots and Kettles; George Crowell and Winthrop Sargent, Jr., Most Puissant Dishwashers and Keepers of the Pantry. Besides being Grand Keyman, I am Knight of the Cap and Bells. We change officers every three months. The Fool's Cap is the badge which is the most eagerly sought. Every one is obliged to fit his language to •Aim ■iii 26 AIR CASTLE DON I his clothes. We meet once a week, and each one brings some- thing for the supper. No monkeying is allowed except by the Regular Fool. Part of the time is spent in reading. If you'll come to the next meeting and tell us something about hunting the tiger in Africa and the elephant in India, where you have been so much, we'll make you an honorary member and put the king's robes upon you at youi visit. I am Grand Sover- eign Committee on Guests and will see that the invitation is written out and sent to you in form." "I'll come, sure," said Barry, and his ready acceptance so pleased Don that he determined to do all he could to make the visitation the event of the club's history. "But what use do you make of these female robes — ^worship them?" asked Barry. "At the installation of officers each member of the club is privileged to bring one girl friend with him, and to offer to her for her use during the evening the robe which is the nearest match to his own rank in the society." Barry went to the club according to promise, and after he had entertained them for an hour with an account of his travels and some of his adventures in Africa and India he compliantly allowed them to put upon him the king's robe and tinsel crown and, notwithstanding the grotesqueries of the ..meeting and the banquet, he enjoyed himself to the fullest bent of his humor. He had insisted as one condition of his visit, that nothing of their usual form should be omitted. Thereafter the boys were at the disposal of the artist for anything that could administer to his pleasure or to the main object of his stay in the vicinity. He was well acquainted with the stirring history of the ancient times of this part of Acadia, and told them more about the vicinity than any of them had ever heard before. They took him in their yawl and under ■A-if. igs some- ept by the If you'll It hunting you have :r and put rd Sover- vitation is eptance so ) make the i — ^worship the club is affer to her the nearest nd after he [ his travels :ompliantly insel crown ing and the lis humor. nothing of le artist for :o the main lainted with of Acadia, f them had and under AIB GASTLB DON 27 sail carried him to Cape Sable because he wanted to see the famous island upon which the Norseman, Leif, the son of Eric the Red, of Brattahlid, in Greenland, landed before he went on to discover the shores of Massachusetts and Rhode Island. He was acquainted also with the fact that the Cape was the scene of the exciting adventures of the French Latour and his beautiful and heroic wife, and that Port Latour, just below Barrington, was named after the Frenchman, he having built a fort and made his home there many years, growing rich on the furs bought from the Indians, who at that time were thick in the land. It wac here that his wife — 'Constance of Acadia' — ^acquired unlimited power over the savages by living among them as one of them and teaching them the simpler and gentler arts of civilization. It was here, during the absence of her husband, that she successfully defended the fort against their white enemies and put them to flight. The boys of the club ro'. ed the artist down to Coffintown and walked with him over to Port Latour in search of the remains of the old fortification. On their return, while passing through a clump of pines not far from Coffintown, Don said to Barry: "Here is the place where the club played ghosts and captured a cap and sword from an officer of a war ship." "How was that?" asked the artist. "A man-of-war came into the mouth of the channel and spent several weeks surveying the harbor for chart purposes. The purser got acquainted with a pretty g^rl living not far from this, and pretended to make love to her. He visited her in full uniform with side arms, and cap with the newest gilt band more than two inches wide. We got wind of the time of one of his visits and came down, each one dressed in the longest robe available from our supply, and hid ourselves in this clump '41 ■lyiyl 28 AIR GASTLB DON of trees. At midnight we heard him clamping along in the darkness on his way back to his boat, and when he got oppo- site the place where we were lying flat on the ground, we rose up with a yell and with our robes flaunting about us, gave chase to him. He fled like a calf, dropping his cap, and finally losing his sword out of its scabbard. These we picked up and carried with us back to The Lady of the Lake." "Did you ever hear from him after that?" asked Barry, when he recovered from his merriment. "Not a word," Don replied. "What account he gave of himself when he reached the ship, never reached the shore; nor did he ever come on shore again while the ship was here." "Evidently Acadian ghosts were not to his liking. But does The Lady of The Lake Club do much of that sort of work among the sinners who happen here occasionally?" "Oh, no!" responded the mild-mannered Most Sovereign Potentate of the club; "there is no need of a vigilance com- mittee in such a place as this. We'll confess, however, that we once tried to cure a very bad case of foul-mouth by taking a boy who was affected with it down to the river, and scouring his mouth with soft soap, sand and water. The remedy appeared to be effective for awhile, but when he removed to another place it is said that the disease broke out worse than ever. Our outside work is mostly confined to widow work." "Please enlighten me — what kind of work is that?" "There are several women in the neighborhood whose husbands were lost at sea. Some of them are in poor circum- stances, and we do what we can to keep their wood-piles from getting low, and if their garden or potato-patch needs looking after we offer our services, for all of us know how to work." "Young gentlemen," and the artist spoke with deliberation and emphasis, "your titles are rather top-heavy, and yoUr club ' ' ■i|Pp|.|^P||i^Wpm^/Mf!W ' *:"-' ^J ..gji|.y. i ,iB ii »,ii i . i .yw,^ , AIU CASTLE DON 29 ilong in the le got oppo- und, we rose 3Ut us, gave p, and finally icked up and isked Barry, t he gave of he shore ; nor IS here." liking. But t sort of work •?" 3st Sovereign igilance com- vever, that we h by taking a and scouring The remedy le removed to ut worse than widow work." that?" arhood whose 1 poor circum- ood-piles from needs looking how to work." ,th deliberation and yoUr club clothes £.re a bit gaudy and flimsy, but there is no discount on your deeds. By way of expressing my approbation of your aims I shall, while I am here, paint a panel for your club quarters; and I hope that it will give you as much pleasure as you have given me." This was such an unexpected honor that the club greeted the announcement with a three times three, and the ghost yell with which they vanquished the purser of the man-of-war ship. I f<5 w CHAPTER III. ' ; DON MAKES TWO MOVBS. Don's days were not all spent in reading and dreaming and leading gentlemanly excursionists around the region. Family needs required that he should pick up pennies wherever they could be had for the equivalent of work. When in the spring the herring were going up-stream he stood all day long upon the rocks and dipped them into his herring barrel, and when in the fall the eels were going down-stream, he stood on the bridge till twelve of night ensnaring them with his net, for both herring and eels were easily turned into cash. He mended holes in the highway, picked rock-weed when the tide was out, shingled shanties, cleared the slabs from the gangway of the little saw-mill, turned oats in the kiln of the grist-mill, and planted potatoes or dug them. When the wild berry season was on, he made them pay tribute; and when the rabbits were on the run in winter, he turned many of them into the family larder. He hated a gun, but was never averse to fishing tackle, and so first and last he was worth at least as much as his salt came to. One day he was ten feet underground scooping earth into a bucket as a well digger, when Feter Piper, who was at the windlass over his head shouted down the opening: "Come up, lad; here's a mon a' the way frae Argyle that wants to see Don Donalds." Argyle was thirty miles away. He knew no man there, and wondering what his errand could be, Don climbed the r.v)) reaming and ion. Family herever they in the spring ly long upon and when in Uood on the \ net, for both He mended tide was out, ngway of the rist-mill, and berry season rabbits were ito the family se to fishing X as much as ng earth into lo was at the ing: "Come wants to see o man there, climbed the :» *%*- .^^v-■v^ ;"■..; AIR 0A8TLB DON 81 bucket rope, hand over hand, begrimed with mud, presented himself to the dapper little gray haired man who awaited his appearance. "You have been recommended to us for a teacher," said the man without ceremony. "My name is Thomas Tubbins, and I have come down to engage you for the fall and winter terms. Will you come?" "But I have never taught, and I'm only fourteen years of age," Don replied, in astonishment. "You are well enough qualified, that I have found out already," said Tubbins, "and that you are big enough and strong enough to handle anybody we've got in our school I can see with my own eyes. Say yes, and we'll settle the rest in no time. School is to begin week after next." "I must first go home and see what they say about it there," Don replied, rather overwhelmed at this summary way of doing business. "Oh, I went down to the house first, and your father said yes, providing you thought you could manage a school. It's between us two now ; if you're not minded that way» I'll hunt up somebody else." Don stood hesitating when Peter broke in with: "How long halt ye between two opinions. The Scriptures bid ye to do with all your might whatsoever your hands find to do; see Ecclesiastes nine and ten." "I'll go," said Don, acting rather upon his own judgment than upon the texts Peter was inclined to fling at him. "You win board at my house; there is nothing else for me to say; so, good day." And Mr. Tubbins walked away with- out deigning another word or look. "Blunt as a peekax and straight as a crowbar," was Peter's comment as Tubbins disappeared over the wall into the high- -^jfc"— - ..« J . • fii^r'fiiiatf' mmm^ Wf^^ 82 AIR 0A8TLR DON :m i'- way. "Yr'll ken him a' right withouten ony deectionary. But ye maun fcenish the well afore ye take the schoolmaster'i rod." "Of course," responded Don, at the same moment making for the rope and sliding down to the bottom of the well again, well satisfied with himself and all the world besides. He had resumed his labors but a short time when he called out: "Peter, I've struck a pile of money!" "What do ye mean?" asked Pe' r. thinking that Don was making sport of him in the fullness ot his spirits. "There is money here in the dirt," and Bon threw a num- ber of black coin into the pail, saying: "Pull the pail up and see for yourself." "Lord help us!" Peter exclaimed in alarm, while he turned the coin over in his hand; "I hope Providence isna goin' to spoil ye by puttin' gowd unner your feet now that ye're elected to become a teacher o' bairns." But he presently added with a sigh of relief: "Ye're delivered frae temtation, lad, for the stuff turns to dust though ye try it never so little." They were working through an old cellar over which a house had gone up in fire many years before. The total num- ber of coin discovered were few and of no value. Being Span- ish pistareens r.iade of adulterated silver, they were so thoroughly corroded that they broke and crumbled like so much clay. The owner of the premises happening along was informed of the discovery, and became so excited that he ordered Don out of the well and went down himself to see what he could find. He was of such ample girth that he was like a cork in th^ nouth of a bottle. Before he could be brought to the surfac<' again half a dozen men had to be called. The only way they could get him out was by rigging a derrick and pulling him up by block and tackle. ;.-,i,ji>.:'.---,J'fll eectionary. [)olmaiter't Etit making well again, ;n he called at Don was rew a num- pail up and le he turned sna goin* to ye're elected r added with lad, (or the ver which a e total num- Being Span- ey were so bled like so ig along was ited that he to see what he was like be brought called. The I derrick and ' .'P f ^,%'*^Bg l iW-q r ''',i« f iPPH' '' - ' *Jy Wf f tl^ AIR OABTLB DON He w so blown and red when he reached the surface and was dumped on the grass to recover himself, that Peter look- ing upon him with a grim peppery satisfaction, muttered to himself: "Gin the hole had been deeper the auld coof would ha' broken through in^o the bottomless peet, an' then he would ha' looked redder than he is now." When Mr. Pauncefort was able to stand up, being a man of active suspicions and dormant honor, he looked at Peter and Don and intimated that they might have found something of value and concealed it about their persons. At this Peter shook his fist in the man's face and said in great anger: "Pll work no more on yon well tho' ye gae wi'out water thro' a' eternity ;" and he stalked off, followed by Don, who, though he said nothing, was white with wrath. Pauncefort attempted to call them back to their work, but his appeal fell upon deaf ears. "The mon has no more respect for the ten commandments than he has for the sermon on the mount," growled Peter, "an* tliat's why he thinks there's nae bottom to onny body else's morality an' Chreestianity. In body he's as beeg as puncheon, but in soul he's as sma' as flea. Gin ye see a mon wha's always spiren' for faults in ither people, ye may be sure he's as full o' holes as a sieve." Don's time was now mainly spent in repairing the little old sealskin trunk that had long lain in the garret, and in packing into it his personal belongings preparatory to his rapidly approaching departure. It was a proud and exciting morning when he mounted the outside of the stage by the side of the whip, after having condescendingly received the parting salutes of the family, and the coach with its full fare of pas- sengers rolled over the bridge on its way to Argylc. At the end of the bridge Peter stood with uplifted hand u ^- -i.,A-;f.JiiMi!i:Li*-i■■'^&^)^iS^iM ■^'•~r" ' ^ * -t . - "rw^ yr '■ ' * : 'i ^v, ' -' !( '•* AIB 0A8TLB DON 86 The stage oom for an ■e Don sat, said: "Ye mgel set his th? That's lid try ?t on. : an angel ye the passeng- whip, Peter : coach till it through the irbors and by At noon he as at an end. ins by way oi k were in his ly the dust of hich Tubbins here. We xtra appetite, ig is in readi- t a fine birch in full sight." It," said Don, "A school and the chief id at him as if Its. Juvenile nature in Argyle was as timid and gentle as the lambs on the hillsides, and there was no occasion for the use of the birch, save once. A raw girl, fifteen years of age, from the first of Don's appearance became infatuated with him, and spent most of her time in the school-room in pouring out upon him from her great, sky-blue eyes a flood of amatory glances. The young master threatened her with the rod if she did not look more at her books than at him. The threat proving unavailing, he called her up before the school and gave her a couple of taps on the palm of her right hand. They were so gentle, however, that the girl, regarding them as a favor, smiled in his very face, and went back to her seat to resume her looks. The school giggled, and Don relinquished all attempts to subdue the fervor of her eyes, although they, instead of conquering him, chilled him like the staring eyes of a codfish fresh from the deep. Saturdays were days of freedom and ecstasy. With Tub- bins' boat at his disposal, Don rowed and drifted among the hundreds of islands of Argyle Bpv like one roaming in fairy- land. For change, he would take Tubbins' old white mare and ride up among the Tusket Lakes, where among the hundred or more crystal-clear water gems, he would fish and dream to his heart's content. Like " Tan Pile Jim," he could scarcely feel the necessity of getting ready for another world when this one looked so beautiful. The winter was not so pleasant; the deep snow was diffi- cult to wade through, and the fierce congealing blasts were hard to face. His fireless room was like the interior of an iceberg. At bedtime he buried his head under the ample pile of quilts, but only to find, when the morning came, that every opening where his breath had found vent was spangled with frost-flakes, which, however beautiful, were like jewels set in a .**l{%*r^ PSjppfip^j^^ipsjIJf^if 86 AIR CASTLE DON refrigerator. At the schoolhouse, not over tight at best, Jack Frost played all sorts of pranks notwithstanding the wood went into the great stove at the rate of a tree a day. Trials have their uses, and in the absence of outdoor attractions, teacher and scholars made advances in their work at a gait that delighted Tubbins. "I did a good thing for Argyle when I pulled you out of that well in Barrington," he said to Don one day, after putting the school through a committee inspection. "I am glad you think so," Don responded simply, blushing to hear himself praised. "Even Milly Hatfield has caught the study fever," said Tubbins, referring to the girl with the codfish eyes. "That's because she doesn't worship you as much as she did. I thought for awhile that we should have to remove her from school, she looked at you so steadily. Seeing so much of you has disenchanted her;" and Tubbins chuckled over his own sapiency. With the return of the green leaves and the singing birds Don resumed his voyaging among the islands and his rambles among the lakes. A great change was taking place in him. He felt as though he must plume his own wings and take a flight into the great world. His elder brothers, with the irre- sistible instincts of Americans, had already gone over to the States. One was supposed to be in Boston, in an apothecary shop, and another in the same city making ready for a voyage around the world in a clipper ship. Another was somewhere in the interior of Massachusetts taking an academic course of study; and still another was somewhere in New Hampshire making his first experiments in preaching, upon a country congregation. Seeing the topmasts of a schooner peeping over the tree- ■5.'- ..,,■■;.■, >«■";«> it »S*'*f«>i-v.*i».r!';wi^Si«SSrfl best, Jack the wood ay. Trials attractions, k at a gait you out of iter putting ly, blushing fever," said es. "That's she dii. 1 ive her from much of you »ver his own singing birds i his rambles ilace in him. s and take a ivith the irre- ; over to the ,n apothecary or a voyage IS somewhere mic course of V Hampshire 3n a country 3ver the tree- ::fFW^ f 0^ '' ^i'f> :*fmw*^w^^ AIB OASTLB DON 87 tops of one of the harbor islands one Saturday morning, Don rowed off and boarded her. To his surprise he saw that she was named The Milly Hatfield, and when he reached the deck he was still more surprised to learn that the captain was Milly's father. He soon learned that the captain and his crew were getting ready for a trip to Boston. "When do you sail?" Don asked. "One week from to-day, at eleven sharp, wind and weather permitting." "Will you take me for a passenger," said Don, seized with a sudden inspiration. "Certainly — half a dozen of you, if you wish ; and you have done so much in the way of packing Milly's head with common sense, the trip sha'n't cost you a cent." And the dry old cap- tain looked at him so quizzically, Don felt as if a package of needles had been using him for a needle-cushion. "But I am in earnest." "So am I." "Thank you. I'll be on hand ^or the trip," "Coming back this way?" "Of course not." "Have you received permission from home?" "No," said Don with emphasis, tossing his head with a swaggering swing. "I guess I can take care of myself." His experience in school had puffed his vanity and independence to a dangerous extent, and he was ready to lock horns with almost anything in the way of adventure. "Very well; if you can risk it, I'll do the same; but I hope you have laid in a good supply of sand and g^rit. Boston isn't Barrington. you know. And a youngster like you makes a small showing among the old elephants of a city." But Don was not to be frightened. On the Friday follow- j-.-.t^fcajS^teSP'? '^M ma gn fjtm wmm mmm^^r^i^^. 88 AIR OASTLB DON i h ■' \ng Tubbins paid him an even fifty dollars, after deducting his board. On Saturday morning he rowed his young boarder out to the Miliy Hatfield, and found her just at the point of raising her anchor. "If the Yankees prove too much for you," said he, "come back to Argyle and we will give you the school for the next season. And if you stay here long enough, perhaps Captain Hatfield will give you his daughter, and throw the vessel in to boot." The allusion to Milly almost destroyed the possibility of a sentimental separation from the jocular Tubbins, and Don replied with inward ire: "You may be sure that I'll never come back to Nova Scotia to live; no, not for all the gins and all the vessels in the province." "Well, bore's a good-bye to you, and good luck to you wherever you go," said Tubbins with strong feeling as he went over the rail and turned his boat to shore. The Hatfield pulled her anchor to the cathead immediately, and after disentangling herself from the many islands of Argyle Bay, pointed her head directly for Boston. If she had been as big as The Great Eastern, her capacity would have been inadequate for the cargo of expectations Don carried secreted under his vest. Midway the Bay of Fundy the vessel ran into a gale of wind that raised such a tempestuous sea, Don was turned into a hive of miniature volcanoes. In the agony of his throes he thought of Peter Piper's last words, and from the bottom of his soul wished that instead of putting both feet upon the sea he had been wise enough to glue them to the land. When fairer weather returned his spii .is went to the masthead again, and the horizon once mbre became roseate with youthful hopes and anticipations. "-■'l..-'4 l ! " '!l {tr '1 B"?^ T ' noting his ler out to of raising he, "come r the next )s Captain : vessel in ibility of a and Don I'll never e gins and ick to you as he went nmediately, islands of If she had vould have )on carried a gale of turned into is throes he bottom of pon the sea nd. When liead again, ithful hopes CHAPTER IV. « .'- . ■ -; IN THE CITY OP NOTIONS. Don's head was packed with points concerning the possi- bilities of boys. From the parental fountain, from the Sunday school corner, from the pulpit, and from the pages of divers books that gave patent recipes for getting on in the world, he had acquired a stock of principles and examples sufficient to equip a regiment of boys. Even a bishop had laid his hand upon his frowzy head of hair and predicted for him success and distinction. • By the most approved processes it had been drilled into him that many a hoy who began his career barefooted had reached conditions in life in which he was able to wear a different pair of shoes for every day in the week. It had not occurred to him that all boys — and girls, too, for that matter, are born bare- footed. Much less was he aware that in spite of the best foot- wear no means had yet been devised by which one could entirely avoid an occasional stubbing of one's toes against unforseen obstructions. Being so full of the idea of wearing patent leather shoes and walking on paved streets, there was not enough room left for him to think of things which might joggle his understanding and pitch him forward on lines not in keeping with a strict perpendicular. Fortunate it is for boys that their hatbands are not measured by their thoughts, for a hatband several miles in circumference would be an inconvenient thing to carry on one's head. (39) 5! ■••si i^j.';>i>j.> 'Kift'i'l 40 AIR OASTLB DON The Hatfield was approaching her destination when the lookout at the fore shouted: "Land, ho!" The inexperienced eye could see only three purple spots on the horizon ahead, but the captain recognized in them the Blue Hills, and the Wachusetts and the Monadnock mountains. Presently the whole coastline rose out of the sea like a blue cloud, and Boston Lighthouse could be seen pencilled dis- tinctly against the sky. Passing the frowning fortifications of the harbor the Milly Hatfield dropped her anchor a short dis- tance from the end of Long Wharf. The dome of the capitol and the gray shaft of Bunker Hill monument seemed to Don to be among the wonders of the world. But what most impressed him was the forest of steeples, for he thought where there were so many churches there must be few chances for a" boy like himself to come to harm. > In the midst of his reflections the customs' officer pulled alongside and soon after was rummaging his trunk with scant respect for its contents. Don consoled himself for the dese- cration by watching him while he performed the same cere- mony for the personal baggage of the captain and his crew. "Now thnt you are here," said the captain to Don as soon as the officer had disappeared, "where are you going to put up?" "At Covert's boarding house on North Square," was the prompt answer. "That is where my brothers put up when they are here." "Very good, my lad; then we'll keep each other company; for that is where I always stay when I am in. port. We will send our duds up by dray, and walk up ourselves, for as soon as you set foot within a city, you must tighten the strap around your pocket book and make a business of seeing how little money you can spend. Pocket books in a place like this soon - '•-li&ittl^T^lj^^ 'i ' ^ ,J^»iW [. .WB^r as soon [ap around Ihow little this soon become flabby unless you keep the stuiHng in them as long as you can." Don thought of his fifty dollars and felt quite sure that it would be a long time before his wealth could take wings to itself and fly away. The most verdant thing in all this world is a lad dropped from the heart of the country into the heart of a city for the first time, except, perhaps, the lad who is dropped from the heart of the city into the heart of the country for the first time. Don had heard of Boston as The City of Notions, but had vague ideas as to the origin of the phrase. Now he was sure that he understood why the words were used; the variety of buildings, the diversity of the people on the streets, the multi- tude of things offered for sale, the crookedness of the thor- oughfares and the lack of uniformity among the vehicles made it all as plain as day. Later in his experience he enlarged his understanding. Ascending a hill, and turning through a narrow dingy- street they entered a small triangular space which the captain said was the square for which they were seeking. At the top of the hill they came to the head of the square, and midway the block that formed one side of the square they stopped in front of a comparatively modem red brick four-story house, down the stoop of which ran a pair of highly polished brass railings. At the door they were met by a middle-aged man who had a flaring set of false teeth, a thick shock of black false hair, a pair of narrow watery eyes and an artificial smile that was a perpet- ual fixture along the straight lines that answered for lips. "Hello Hatfield!" exclaimed a thin nasal voice which came from the top of the nose instead of from the bottom of the lungs. "I was just thinking of you and bluenose potatoes. You know you promised to bring me fifty bushels when you 2,4:);,ife**»i-i*M!& • ■r-.i'\XP»:-Ti.': ^„^^^^g*i-' .-*_ -J :>iv:m JJkJi0f, ^ ^ i ■: 42 ■H" AIR OASTLB DON came over again. My boarders think there is nothing in the world like bluenose murphies." And he shook Hatfield by the hand with the heartiness of an apparent friend. "The potatoes are on board all right," Hatfield responded, laughingly, and with a deep sub-bass of a voice that, by con- trast, made Covert's voice sound like the squeal of a mouse or the squeak of a door-hinge. "But let me introduce you to this boy; he's a brother of the Donalds tribe, of whom you have had four here already. He's out to take a look at the world, and wants you to take him in for awhile. He's going to become a millionaire and will stay with you until he can get his bearings." "I'm rather particular about my boarders, but I know that his tribe is a good one, and I'll take him in with pleasure," said Covert, extending a hand, the touch of which made Don feel as if he were shaking an eel that had just been pulled from a mud-hole. The looks, voice and touch of the man con- vinced Don off-hand that either the church steeples had failed to do their duty by him or else had failed to make any impression upon him. They were now in the reception room, where they were met by Mrs. Covert, a short, thick, red-skinned woman, whose studiously benevolent face seemed to make immediate amends for her husband's abounding deficiencies. Don thought that she was certainly the better half of the man, and he immedi- ately jumped to the conclusion that the only excuse he had for sharing the premises with her was the fact that he was her man-of-all-work. Hatfield began to make inquiries about the Donalds brothers in the hope that some of them were in the house, or at least in the vicinity. "The one who is the first officer of The John Bertram sailed iF^Bifrr' AIB CA8TLB DON : in the I by the ponded, by con- ouse or you to om you k at the 's going can get low that leasure," ade Don lied from lan con- lad failed lake any ley were , whose amends ight that immedi- had for was her Donalds lOUse, or am sailed for China yesterday," said Mrs. Covert. The one that preaches in New Hampshire, together with the one who is studying; in Worcester, came down to see him oflf. They left the city this morning. The one who used to be in the apothe- cary store on Blackstone street left the city some time ago for some place in Rhode Island. Seeing that Don was bitterly disappointed, she immediately added, with a great show of sympathy: "I hope that you will not take this news too much to heart. You are rather young to be so far away from home with nobody to look after you. I liked your brothers and shall like you. Make our house your home and consider me and my husband as your friends, for we will do all we can to make the house pleasant for you and to help you along." "And all this for only five dollars a week, with washing and lights free," squeaked Mr. Covert, with ostentatious bluntness, and looking at the lad as if estimating his resources and the amount of squeezing he would bear. Don thought that this was- a somewhat singular way of making things pleasant, and he began to make a rapid mental calculation, the effect of which was by no means reassuring. "My husband never thinks of anything else besides dollars and cents," said the woman. "If he were burying me he'd think more about the dollars it cost than he would about the dead and lost. I'm not built that way, as the saying is, though if he were to die, I should immediately begin to look for a man who was born with a soul in him." Under this withering attack Mr. Covert, so far from shrink- ing, only extended his habitual smile up his nose and into a tenuous laugh that was thinner than the upper notes of a worn- out singer. "My wife has so much soul," he squeaked, "that if I were t ^:':,',-i-:J;K^ .. I'M mmmi, xV 44 Allt 0A8TLB DON not here to look after her, her boarders would crowd her into the almshouse in less than six months. If she were to die I'd hunt up someone who had sense enough to keep her heart under lock and key." A maturer acquaintance with this pair of human oddities convinced Don that there was a good business understanding between them notwithstanding the apparent discrepancy between their dispositions. Mr. Covert made profitable trafHc in his wife's seeming generosity, while she craftily utilized his ostentatious meanness. He used her beaming face by way of attracting customers ; and she used his mercenary spirit by way of securing prompt payments and limited expenditures. "Don't take either of them too seriously," said the knowing Hatfield, when both husband and wife had left the room; "but keep your eyes peeled for both of them. If you fear the man too much he'll skin the hide from you, and if you trust the woman too much, the effect will be about the same. The only diflference between them is, she rows with one oar on one side of the boat, and he uses the other one on the other side. Between the two oars they keep going ahead and manage to lay up considerable of their boarders' money." Don spent several days looking about the city and getting used to the stir and noise of the metropolis of The Old Bay State. The streets were so crooked that he made short excur- sions at first, but little by little he acquired a courage which enabled him to extend his adventures to Boston Common and the old historic elm tree, which, in view of his acquaintance with the monarchs of primeval forests looked both dilapidated and disreputable. And the Frog Pond, with its seven by nine dimensions carefully bounded by granite curbing, and its shal- low bottom paved with cobble-stone, and its dirty water kept from evaporating altogether by the squirtings of a fitful foun- ' .V itf'f^lDHS, ^ ''mmnT^'^fw^ywT'^ ' mn ' f i v ^ v" er into die I'd r heart )ddities landing •epancy e traffic ized his way of by way :nowing m; "but the man rust the fhe only one side er side, inage to getting lid Bay excur- which ion and iaintance lapidated by nine its shal- iter kept tul foun- AIB OASTLB DON •* ;*<■.,-. W.J 46 tain, suffered immensely by comparison with the crystal-clear waters of the ponds and lakes he was familiar with in the vicinity of home. The State House on the hill caused him to remove his hat while he wandered to and fro among the cor- ridors, but The Old State House at the head of State street, notwithstanding its colonial associations, failed to gain from him more than a passing contemptuous glance. The Old South Church, and The Brattle Street Church, with its osten- tatious cannon ball sticking like a black punctuation point among the drab-painted brick were grievous disappointments. Later, however, when his Boston tastes were more generally and intelligently developed he swore by the old landmarks with all the enthusiasm of one to the manor born, for there is nothing like education for the multiplication of exclamation points in one's every day life. Hearing of The Maeonion as the place where Theodore Parker, the most distinguished preacher of Boston preached, he went out to see it. When he came out of the building his nose pointed the wrong way, and before he knew it he was walking among green fields in Roxbury. He was badly lost. If it had been a case of being lost in the woods of the primitive wilderness of the government lands in Nova Scotia, he would have turned around three times to the right, and three times to the left, and then with three sumersaults to finish the cere- mony, he would have started on a bee line for home as surely as if he were guided by the north star or a pocket compass. But he did not dare to cut up any such capers as this among the people who were passing. Seeing the Old South steeple in the distance, he steered a straight course for that, and by good luck reached his boarding house in time for supper. "What did you do when you discovered you were lost?" asked one of the boarders. '^T'Wdi 'I ;.«v&-if^S^ «iwipiiiiii|«inpp mrmrm^ ^ i »| j i m^ i n 4A AIR 0A8TLB DON "I hailed the first good looking man I met and requested him to tell me the way to Mr. Covert's house." Don could not quite understand why the table broke into such violent laughter .it hi» answer. "What did he say?" inquired Covert, whose smile had more semblance of genuineness than it had shown for many a day. "He didn't say anything, but looked at me in a puzzled way and then hurried on. He must have been a deaf and dumb man." The laugh broke out afresh, and Don began to get red and angry. "The next time you get lost," said Covert, "ask the way to North Square. Although this square is respectable enough in itself, it is at the head of Ann street — the worst street in the city; and everybody knows where the worst street is, just as every man knows his neighbor's worst points." "Your own bad points are so conspicuously prominent that no one needs be at the trouble of hunting for them," s." Mrs. Covert, slyly. "Of course not," Covert retorted, with seeming anger. "I wasn't cut out for an angel, as you were." The boarders had become so accustomed to these false sword thrusts that they took no notice of them, except to put themselves on guard against any fresh demands the two might combine to make upon them. The boarders consisted of fifteen men and nine ladies. The first time Don took his seat at dinner he thought that the ladies were the most wonderfully and fearfully arranged affairs that were ever created. And he tried to imagine the excite- ment that their appearance would make in a place like Barring- ton. It was the first time he had ever seen the sex in all the glory of widely expanded hoops, elaborately shirred waists, to;- .niif m m » i jn i i>ifi i n)^ > i AIB 0A8TLB DON 41 uested could iriolent 1 more a day. ed way dumb 'cd and way to jugh in : in the just as ent that • Mrs. iff. "I ise false |t to put might ladies. Ithat the affairs excite- larring- all the waists, and innumerable soap curls arranged around the upper coun- tenance like a semi-circle of scroll-work. The rings of their fingers made him think that there must also be bells on their toes. The lady who sat at his right hand was passably comely, but aided by the fashions she was celestially beautiful. She had the manners of a young girl and he fell violently in love with her and worshipped her for a week. He cultivated the curls on his own head and contemplated making material improvements in his own wardrobe during that time. At the end of the week, in answer to a fatal inquiry, Mrs. Covert said: "Miss Arabella Agincourt is of good family, and has some means, but she is between thirty and forty, has man-made teeth and a very unsuccessful way of besieging the affections of men. She has tried each one of your brothers, but without favorable results. What her object is in dallying with you is more than I can conjecture. She may possibly thin' that by lavishing her kindness upon you she may regain ilie chance to hook some one of your brothers. She is very anxious to become a sea captain's wife and has made desperate attempts to capture your eldest brother. I shall not say anything against her, for she will make a most excellent old maid." This drastic dose ended Don's illusions and set him to thinking about more serious things. He determined to visit his clerical brother and get his advice as to what his course should be. He had never travelled by railway and when he took his seat in a car for the first time his sensations were novel. While wondering how any power on earth could draw after it such a palace-like vehicle, the train started. It was his impression that an earthquake had taken it in tow, and when the speed increased to an express rate, he was quite sure that the first earthquake had been reinforced by another. He sat I ..y. >'8v''*^.«u»iWW-i«'^' •I'lii'lUi 'ii'iVl'.'-r-til nppp^^wflp 48 AIR CASTLE DON :.' bolt upright and held on to the seat in front of him. The screeching of the whistle at every road-crossing was a gjreater mystery than he had ever heard preached from the pulpit, and vr.st'y more trying to the nerves. Observing that the other passengers evinced no alarm, he slackened his strained muscles and, after a little, ventured to take snap-glances at the whirling landscape. ^ On arriving at the scattered hamlet of Puddlewit, in New Hampshire, he asked the station agent, who aped the manners of a major general and spoke the language of an ignoramus, to direct him to the house where his brother — giving his name — ^was staying. "Rev. Donalds haint stayin' nowheres in this place at pres- ent," was the curt and impatient reply. And then, for a wonder, he voluntarily expended a little more breath in add- ing: "From what I hear, he won't come back here no more. He's such a shadow of a fellow, it's a wonder he can stay any- wheres long enough for anybody to make out the shape of his body. If you're gonter chase him about, you'd better straddle the wires and send yourself along by elfectricity. If you want to get back to where you came from, the train will be along in two hours fro'.n now." Don was so hurt at heart, and withal so angered at the agent's boorishness, he turned his back on him and began to pace the platform. A passing farmer seeing his restlessness and woe-begone appearance, spoke kindly to him, and after melting him into a communicative mood, insisted upon taking him home to dinner. "I'm a deacon in the church to which your brother pleached," he said at the dinner table, "and he left word with me to forward his mail to Logville, Maine. We liked him well, but a bigger church got hold of him and pulled him away 'W^ =7"1'i"*',''■"'^'^'i;!•■"''''^'*/!*5*■'*■^'*'''■'^"^T ■"■'"^-'^ ••C>v.r,#Tv-rt-i£:™»'' ! 'v--sv'V --mtv. AIB CASTLE DON 49 im. The a greater ulpit, and the other d muscles ; whirling t, in New ; manners fnoramus, ; his name :e at pres- len, for a th in add- ; no more. I stay any- lape of his er straddle you want e along in Ired at the began to lestlessness and after lon taking ir brother Iword with liked him him away from us. It is ail right, however; if a minister does not look after his own pie and pudding, no one else will do it for him. 'Covet earnestly the best gifts' is what the Bible says; and I suppose that the rule is intended to work for the benefit of the ministers as well as for the benefit of the churches." The good man pressed Don to spend the night with him, saying: "It will give you a chance to look over the country, which your brother said was as pretty a bit of scenery as God ever decorated the earth willi. He rambled about here a good deal and made use ot the things he saw in such a way in the pulpit that we had to keep our own eyes open to see what was going to come next. Most of the preachers we have had here gave us such common things in such a common way that I have wondered why the patent medicine men have not bottled them up and advertised them for sleep-producing remedies, to be taken just before going to bed." Don returned to Boston on the next train, and the follow- ing day went to Worcester in search of his brother, but only to learn that he had removed to a distant field to take charge of an academy. Seeing that the stranger lad was much cast down by this intelligence, the principal sympathetically drew from him some account of his desires and purposes, and, in the end urged him to enter the school, assuring him that he could easily And work enough to provide for his board, while the tuition fees might remain a debt until such times as he was able to pay it. Although strongly inclined to accept the offer, Don, on second thought, revolted against the idea of putting a mort- gage on his future. "Pay as you go" was a cherished rule, and he' determined not to become divorceil from it. Thanking the kind principal for his generous interest in a total stranger, Don turned his back upon the attractive build- ings and beautiful grounds and returned to Boston. :^mmii TPf tmw CHAPTER V. AN ATTIC PHILOSOPHER. Don's resources were rapidly dwindling. It became neces- sary for him to reduce his expenses and to procure employ- ment. Believing in doing one thing at a time, the first thing he did was to consult with Mrs. Covert concerning a lower rate of board, which he thought he could obtain by taking a smaller and less advantageous room. "Of course," said Mrs. Covert cautiously, " if you are get- ting out of money, you must fit your outlay to your necessities." "In other words," interrupted her husband, "five dollars is our lowest rate, and if you are not able to pay that amount, you must make way for those who can. We do no business for charity." Such brutal business bluntness as this turned Don into an icicle so far as further confidences were concerned, and he left the house without a word. In less than half an hour he had contracted to board with Widow Williams, on the same square, for two dollars a week. His accommodations included an attic room and two meals a day. "When it is more convenient for me, I will take dinner, also," he said, while making his terms. But by a harmless prevarication he concealed his intention of going without his dinner until such times as his finances would allow of his engaging full board, and he did it with such an air 'of genuine independence that the widow had no suspicion of the truth. (50) • J ..'/f ' vyj i BWiJ ' j > ■ . ■ » ■ " ;j' ' .'^fstf"" T»- ■ im WJ ! 'H P V ' l i. > - ' «l ' >. ' -' "■ 'PWJW : neces- itnploy- st thing wer rate . smaller are get- to your lollars is >unt, you iness for t into an d he left he had square, uded an dinner, larmless lout his V of his genuine ruth. AIR 0A8TLB DON 61 Shouldering his trunk with more of triumph than of humil- iation, he crossed the Square and mounted to his attic. Nor did the limitations of his quarters diminish from the elasticity of his spirits; he had taken the bull by the horns and consid- ered himself master of the situation, such as it was. The Wellington of Waterloo could not have experienced any higher satisfaction. The attic had but one window which commanded a lone- some view of a wilderness of monotonous slate roofs and chim- neys. The room was barely high enough for him to stand upright in, and the furnishings consisted of a single bed, a wash-stand, a lone wooden chair, and a faded piece of carpet placed in front of the bed. Being neat and scrupulously clean himself, he was glad to notice that, although the paint of the room was battered and worn, the bed and the floor were neat and clean. "Well," he said, after surveying his surroundings, "I am nearer Heaven than I have ever been before; that's one satis- faction. I'll just imagine that I am a crow swinging in the top of a Nova Scotian pine. The next thing in order is for me to get something to do, so that I can put myself in the way of moving a little lower down in the direction < >f a room that has four good square walls. That low place under the eave looks as if it were an invitation to mice, and, possibly, to rats. And now I wonder what sort of people I have fallen among this time." His curiosity was soon to be satisfied. Mrs. Williams was the relict of a sea captain, who lost his life upon the coast of Madagascar. Although he had been dead several years-, she was still wearing mourning. She owned, the house in which she lived, and was trying to retain it by keeping boarders on a small scale. She was tall and thin, with a pale face that bore .» ^ "Ul 62 AIR CASTLE DON marks of struggle and anxiety, which, however, did not efface the signs of refinement and sweetness which seemed to dom- inate her features and her manners. After Don had taken possession of his attic, he went down to the sitting room, where Mrs. Williams introduced him to her only daughter, Leonora, a rather petite, pretty brunette of eleven years. "I hope you will be good friends," said the widow to Don, "though I must forewarn you that she is an incorrigible bunch of mischief. Besides her, I have a son who is about your age, as I should judge — an only son between whom and you there is a very striking resemblance. Bert is rather old-seeming for one so young, but for that very reason he is a great help and comfort to me. He'll be glad when he learns that I have taken a boy-boarder, though possibly, he may undertake to oversee you as he tries to oversee Nora, here." "He's an awful boy, and will wind you around his finger like a piece of thread unless you are as spunky as I am," Nora volunteered to say, while her eyes showed that she was indulg- ing in a bit of precocious slander against her brother, just for the fun of the thing. "I am very fond of awful boys," replied Don, solemnly; "and I suppose it's because I am such an awful boy myself." Nora looked at him keenly, and seeing the latent mischief in his eyes, broke into a ripple of musical laughter. "I think you will do," she remarked with candid indefiniteness. "Bert will find his mate when he comes home to-night and begins to get acquainted with you." "Do you think that there will be a fipfht?" asked Don, with comic seriousness. "Yes; just such a one as we are having." "Then no harm will come to either of us; for I am sure ■■ V'^y,^g?'^ ja.'« '' f .. ' W 'gigj.'ii H^ y i^y ■■■■^r^i;' '^Rg!^' TJ^-^Wf^l AIB 0A8TLB DON 68 t efface o dom- it down him to nette of to Don, e bunch }ur age, )u there seeming eat help t I have rtake to is finger I," Nora indulg- just for )lemnly; myself." mischief I think "Bert egins to on, with am sure that you are treating me very kindly, and that, of course makes me feel friendly toward you. The mother seemed to enjoy the juvenile blade-testing that was going on in her presence. It was plain that she took a motherly pride in her children, and was not given to drawing the string of the youthful bow too tightly. It was also evident that Don's self possession and general manner gave her a good impression of him. This impression was deepened when he voluntarily gave a short account of himself — how he came to be in the city, and how he happened to make application to her for boarding. Nora listened to him seriously, as he told his brief story, and once or twice almost cried as he told of his disappointments and perplexities. On going back to his attic, Don congratulated himself upon being in a house that had two young people in it, and especially upon having a landlady who appeared to possess a soul. While he was leaning with both arnjs upon the window- sill, and with his face turned pathetically up to the blue sky — for he was thinking of home->-there was a sharp rap at the door. On opening the door he stood face to face with one who, in size, age, complexion, features and entire appearance, wa" the very picture of himself. But for the more stylish clothing he would have thought that he was seeing himself in a mirror. He recalled Mrs. Williams' remark, but was scarcely prepared to look upon his double. "I beg your pardon," said the visitor, "I am Bert Williams. My mother has just told me about you, and Nora gave such a rosy account of you, and both said we looked so much alike, I came up without ceremony to tell you that I am glad that there is another boy in the house." "Thank you," Don responded cordially; "come in and take •K^.-J-'^isi*?'? ^^ : 54 AIR 0A8TLB DON a seat," and he handed to him the lone chair with such precise politeness, and withal with such a gleam of unmistakable humor that Bert laughed outright. His amusement was increased when Don, taking his seat upon the edge of the bed, added, "please excuse me for occupying the sofa." Bert thought to himself: "It is as Nora says, 'This coun- try chap is nobody's fool.' " Then giving way to a sudden apologetic impulse he said: "It may give you some satisfac- tion to know that I am an attic boy myself — I occupy the one on the other side of the house ; for the fact is, that in order to keep our heads above water we are compelled to give the best rooms in the house to the boarders who can pay for them." "I am glad to have you for a neighbor," Don replied sin- cerely, "A pair of attic boys ought to get along together nicely. I'd rather be a boy in an attic than an old man in a palace." "So would I ; but I'd hate to live in an attic till I became an old man. Old people ought to have the best that goes. There's mother, for instance — if I thought that she would have to live in my attic when she got old— -or in a place that was no better than that, I'd do something desperate to prevent it." At this moment the supper-bell rang and the two went down together feeling as if they had known each other for years. Mrs. William and Nora exchanged glances of satisfac- tion when they observed how respectfully attentive Bert was to the newcomer. The boarders — seven men and four women — all of the commonest class — ^took little notice of the stranger. Their own incessant struggle for existence and for the most ordinary necessities of life made them comparatively indiffer- ent to the existence of others. They were moving along on that dead level where people seldom become very bad or very good, and where they are content — after a sort — ^if they can manage to make both ends meet. f*JU«f»iJF 5" precise itakable !nt was the bed, is coun- sudden satisfac- the one Drder to the best em. lied sin- ogether lan in a became It goes. lid have was no it." o went ler for atisfac- was to )men — ranger. le most ndiffer- ong on or very ley can nwsr?^ ' »-/ '7-"y"^'«— «-»^7 ^T'*7*'^ir'^**^r*^''^ ^^TT'" r ' ^•^rr'-^r ^ rr^j^ AIR 0A8TLB DON 66 After tea Bert invited Don into what he called his hole under the roof. It was very much like Don's attic except that it had two windows which looked down upon the Square and over the pavement to the Mariner's House opposite. There were two chairs in the room, which, upon the whole, was fur- nished slightly better than Don's quarters. But what attracted Don's attention more than anything else was a little library of about two hundred and fifty books, that appeared to be nicely bound, and to be made up of authors of national and general fame. Seeing that his visitor was interested in the books, Bert said: "They didn't cost me a cent, and they are a queer lot. I am a sprt of boy of all work in Ticknor and Field's Old Comer Book Store, up on Washington street. It's the fun- niest old shanty you ever saw. They say it was built when the cows went to pasture up in that part of the city — in the times when the Puritans talked religion through their noses all day and went about looking like scarecrows. That was before they had the Boston Tea Party we have heard so much about. Well, I get only five dollars a week, and, of course, can't afford to buy books. But ever> book that gets bound wrong end foremost — ^with the beginning in the middle, or the end at the beginning, or boltom-side up, or mixed up generally — ^as if the binders or the printers had been on a big drunk — every book of this kind is given to me. Those that I want to read I can easily piece together enough to get the hang of them and those I find too dull to read, I let stand on their heads to their hearts* content. So it doesn't matter whether the books are bound right or wrong, so long as I can manage to get out of them all that I care to get. "That Old Comer Bookstore, by the way, has more big literary customers and visitors than any other store in the -V^. 1 J:i-^.,T« -A-ltJ'^"!^,-'' «wp"f """ii.'.iwr^ r ' m ii '-^^r ^'^^y ^l^f .p p n^i ' U gy ^ *' 66 ▲IR CASTLE DON United States; and they come there so often that they talk to me as if I were the son of every one of them. These books," pointing to a number that stood by themselves, "were given to me by the persons who wrote them. "Mr. Lowell made me a present of his Bigelow Papers — and there are piles and piles of fun in them. Doctor Holmes gave me that Breakfast Table book, and his Wonderful One Hoss Shay is the greatest rib-tickler I ever got hold of. Mr. Thoreau, though he is such a farmer-like oddity, gave me that Life in the Woods. I get lost in that sometimes, it carries me so far away from the city. Longfellow and Whittier gave me those volumes of poems, and when I am a head taller I shall probably prize them, even more than I do now. That tall Emerson and little Whipple gave me their Essays, but they are like boxes of raisins, you can't eat much of them at one time. Big Bayard Taylor gave me the Travels, and you can see for yourself that they have been pretty well thumbed. Grace Greenwood and John G. Saxe gfave me that volume of funny poems, and that Haps and Mishaps — and they are down- right good, too. And the rest, that you see there by them- selves, were also given to me by the persons who wrote them — I've got all their autographs in the books and when I am old enough, I suppose I shall be mighty proud of them. It is big fun to be in a store where such chaps meet almost every week. If you keep your ears open, you hear some funny things, for they joke one another like a lot of boys just out of school — ^but you have to keep a sharp lookout for their fine points, for it is as easy to lose them as it is to lose a fine needle." Bert ran on not boastfully, but by way of entertain- ing his visitor, as he tried to explain. Don looked at the boy with growing admiration and expressed his opinion by saying: "Well, if you do live in an -m flflPIT"' -.its;- . -^TfP f '}':^f*'\*'9^-m»v}l^ i imfkm., ' i% •»T "t. ' ,y; ; »v.>. .■ '• ^«f^ '- ^%j" -vmifr ' " '^ .' V "! 'I IF-'-U ( 'J!^ STrffK) Ain OASTLB DON 67 talk to books," e given apers — Elolmes 'ul One if. Mr. me that Ties me ^ave me I shall hat tall lut they I at one you can lumbed. lume of e down- them- te them I am almost funny out of eir fine a fine tertain- m and in an attic, you are on the ground floor so far as books and authors are concerned, and that ought to be a great inspiration to you." "Inspiration to what?" asked Bert pertinently. "To reading and all that sort of thing, you know." "Bert laughed as he said: "If you were in a grocery store and should be inspired to eat the candies and other goodies your inspiration would be likely to get into trouble. Not so much on account of the value of the stuff you ate as on account of the business you neglect. Ticknor and Field are kind old chaps, but if you got to being too much inspired among their books, they'd bounce you in a minute. You are there to look after their business and if you didn't attend to it, they'd make it their business to know the reason why, and that mighty quick, too. They are up there on that old corner to make money; and even if their writers and the big book-bugs didn't make dollars and cents for them they'd get swept out of the way like so much old paper rubbish. That's the way the world wags in the city, and I guess it wags the same way in the country. It's got so here that Onless a preacher fills his pews and draws in holy money, his religion goes for nothing. People are measured by what you can squeeze out of them and not by what you can squeeze into them." Don began to see that this city boy was a good deal sharper than himself; the rush of life and the pressure of competition had forced him to sink his foundations down to hardpan. There wasn't much balloon or cloud stuff in his make-up. He said to him : "You talk as if you were fifty years old. Do all Boston boys talk that way?" "You have to be pretty old to get along here; but I'll admit that there are lunies here as well as elsewhere who do nothing but sail among the clouds." Don thought of Peter Piper, and he told Bert about him, I »jfMMI» 66 AIR CASTLE DON and quoted some of his sayings, winding up, however, with the information that the old fellow was, in spite of his worldly wisdom, as poor as some of the*people he saw on the streets of Boston. "He was so long getting hold of his wisdom that it prob- ably came too late to do him any good except in the way of giving it to others," said Bert, half shutting one eye before he ventured to hint at the solution of the mystery of useless knowledge and experience. "And the trouble with most of us youngsters is, we are unwilling to profit by others' experi- ences. We flounder into the stream at the risk of drowning when we might go safely and dry shod over the bridge that's been built for our benefit. Next to the old fool who never profits by experience is the young fool who never profits by advice." The boys spent the evening together, and when Don rose to go to his own attic, Bert, placing his hand upon his shoulder said, earnestly: "I like you, Don Donalds. When you want any of my books or anything else I have got, come in and help yourself. I think that you have been a reader. If you happen to get hold of any of the upside-down, or middle-at-the-begin- ning fellows, it will be good fun for you to guesu how they ought to go. If you don't want to take the trouble of hunting up the connections, you can read right straight along, and in that way you will hit more funny things than you can imagine. If you want to see the fun that's going on in the square, there's a window for each of us; come in whenever you want to look out." When Don went back to his attic he saw something that was a source of great pleasure to him. The fragment of faded carpet had been removed and a much larger and brighter piece substituted for it. In the middle of the carpet stood a neat AIR OABTLB DON M little table with places in it for odds and ends. The lighted lamp stood in the center of a pretty snow-white mat, and by the side of the table stood a very comfortable rocking-chair with a clean tidy fastened by new blue ribbons. On one of the upright walls were two framed prints which pleased Don as much as anything. He was so charmed with the changes wrought by these additions, that he went back to Eert, and begged him to return his visit forthwith. Smiling, yet embarrassed, Bert said in reply to Don's expressions of pleasure: "Mother, Nora and I put our heads together after tea to see what we could find to add to your furniture and fixings. TIrtc was little we could get, but the place looks better than it did before. One reason why I kept talking to you at the rate I did while you were in my room, was to give mother and Nora a chance to finish what they were doing here. Now, if you will take some of my books and place them upon your table, you can imagine yourself a garret genius or anything else you please." "I am very thankful for the trouble you have taken," Don said gratefully, "but I hope that you have not put yourselves out in putting these extras in here. When the Coverts turned me out this morning, I began to think that the Boston steeples had missed their mission, but now that you have taken me in and conspired so thoughtfully for my comfort, I shall think better of the steeples." "Don't trust too much in steeples," Bert replied, somewhat bitterly, "they point themselves so high that they miss the most of what is really going on in the world. I sometimes think that they have as little influence over things below as they do over the sun, moon and stars above. If you've got money, the church is a good place to get into; if you haven't, it's a capital place to keep out of. My mother is a good i r 'vfv eo Ain OASTLR DON woman, if there ever was one, aid she is a member of the church, hut as she is poor, it's jireciotis little notice she gets from the steeples. Perhaps I ought not to speak in this way. It's more than likely that I am soured on the churches, and when one sours on anything, he's as unreasonable as a balky horse." "Seeing that your mother is a church-woman, I shall con- tinue to think well of the steeples; if we cannot depend upon them, what can we depend on?" '.■■'••■"*■ I r a b c s a ■■■■■■EniMPii *} r of the she gets his way. hes, and a balky hall con- nd upon CHAPTER VI. LOOKINCi POR A SITUATION. "You will find this hunting for a situation a pretty tough business," said Ucrt to Don, the next morning, when the latter started with Iiim on the way to the Old Book Store, intending from that point to begin his explorations for employment. "I am I3oston born and have lived here all my days, but I never knew what a nobody I was until I began to hunt for work and a chance to live. In the first place, everybody wants you to have a character that is as long as the Ten Commandments, and juiit as plainly written by some Moses, or some one equal to him. Then, in addition, you must be sharp enough to take all the advantage you can, and have no one take advantage of you. Besides, they'll require that you should reside with your parents or some relatives who will keep a constant sharp-stick watch over you every hour that you are not on duty. Most of them want you to work for nothing during the first six months, or the first year. When they begin to pay you anything, the amount is so small it almost needs a microscope to find it. If you go into anything in the shape of a store, you must have both the manners and the dress of a young gentleman, and must act as old and be as patient as an old gentleman of fifty, and yet be ready to be pulled and hauled about as if you were born a slave. You can't count on sympathy nor anything else of that sort. I thought I had a trump card when I first started out, and told people that my mother was a poor widow, and that I was an only son who was trying to help her along; (6i) mm wmsmw^' 62 AIR CASTLE DON it didn't count any more than so much blank pasteboard. Of course there are exceptions, otherwise I should not have had any show at all. After awhile I happened to hit my present employers, and they have done the square thing for me right along, though they have made me toe the mark for all I was worth." "You are giving me a pretty black picture," said Don, with a feeling of dismay. "It's black enough, but not very pretty," Bert replied laughingly. "It is better to know the truth from the begin- ning, for most of us boys have such big expectations that it is best to give them a bit of a tumble from the start. We can then go about our business as if we were on a hunt through Africa, and when the pull comes, instead of whining like babies, we can pull all the harder. You stand as good a chance to stumble upon a decent place as I did. Of course you have got certificates of character with you, signed by your minister and the justice of the peace, and the doctor and the rest of the big bugs?" "Not a certificate," Don replied blankly. "I never thought of such a thing. I wanted to come to Boston, and so I came at the first opportunity." "You must be awful green in some things!" Bert exclaimed, forcibly and bluntly. "What did you do before you came here?" "I taught school." "Taught school — a youngster like you! Well, that knocks me to pieces. Then you must kncfw something, and must know how to write a good hand. That's two things that any- body can satisfy himself about. People here are great en faces, and perhaps they'll take your face for a certificate of character, just as I did from the start. North Square isn't the «w 7m mmm .^^■^&i,umm&::%.i ■■^TWr AIB OASTLB DON 68 )oard. Of t have had ny present r me right r all I was Don, with ert replied the begin- ons that it t. We can nt through lining like )d a chance e you have ur minister rest of the rer thought so I came gs!" Bert before you best place in the world to hail from as a boarding place, yet if anybody goes to prying into our family affairs, I think we can stand all the light they can bring. But here I am, at my place of business. You can go up to the Common and ramble around till about nine o'clock; it will give you time to think and to harden up your skin. When you begin your search, go at it with an iron-clad determination. And if your heart takes a notion to sink, prop it up with stiff timber, and remem- ber that there are lots and lots of boys in a worse fix than you are, and they are not all bad boys, either." And with this queer jumble of discouragement and encouragement, Bert turned the key in the door and disappeared. Wl.^n he went home to his dinner, he asked Nora if Don had got home. "No," said Nora," he hasn't had time to get his dinner yet. He doesn't get here till about two o'clock." A sudden suspicion flashed through Bert's head; he believed that Don went without his dinner. He looked his worry so plainly that Nora asked him what the matter was. "Oh, nothing, sweet," he replied quickly, knowing that if Don was keeping a secret it would be treason for him to whis- per his suspicions to either Nora or his mother. But during the whole afternoon there were wrinkles between his eyes — wrinkles of deep thought. When he came home at night and found Don in the attic, a single glance at his face revealed the futility of the day's search. Yet Don received him with a cordial smile. "Haven't hit anything yet?" he asked, explicitly. "Nor come within a thousand miles of anything, though I have been firing myself into every place I could get into decently. In most of the places I got fired out as quickly as I got in." "Going at it again to-morrow?" I-S mmimmsm ...v.. w ■"K-"'-?'"' 'V " "' '■ ■'■''■''"i'P* "■.t,'=^ ■;'• "* '•. *' *'?7"-' ■ '.'"'-^■"i-'K-.'^-y*;'' •T?^^,^s^n5^"^1P^"'?K: 64 AIll CASTLE DON W- "Of course! One has to learn how to shoot before he can hit any mark. I'm learning, and that's one consolation." "Shoulder aches a bit from the kick of the gun, doesn't it?" "Oh, yes, a little bit; but that's nothing." "Well, you've got pluck if you are a little green," said Bert, beginning to laugh in response to the mirth he saw in Don's eyes, a mirth which he knew was provoked by the grim cate- chism to which he was subjected. "Keep that sort of thing up and you'll come out somewhere, yet." "Yes; out at the elbows, and out at the toes," Don said, doggedly. "And out of Boston, too," he added, after a pause. "But didn't you get so much as a nibble?" persisted Bert. "Yes, I got two; but when they asked for my certificate of character, and where and with whom I lived, my face wouldn't pass for a cent, and so I passed out as I went in." Bert was silent and troubled at this, for it was as he feared it would be. "Well," he said at length, "there's no use in nursing trouble. Shake oflf this day and get ready for another. And, by the way, why can't you write home and get somebody to fit you to a recommendation. It may be of use yet. Cer- tificates of character are of course puffy things, but like swim- ming bladders or cork, they sometimes help one to keep on top of the water till he can strike out for himself." Don said he would write and get a whole battery of certifi- cates; and he wrote accordingly. But the times were dull, boys were thick, the unemployed innumerable, and business men as touchy and as short as if applicants were as pronounced intruders in the world as bottle- flies are in a domestic establishment. Ten days passed away, and although Don was indefatigable in his efforts he was apparently no nearer success than the first day he started out on his weary round. Most of the posted Pippppflf!^^ AIR OASTLB DON 66 >re he can ation." oesn't it?" said Bert, in Don's frirn cate- : of thing Don said, r a pause. 5ted Bert, tificate of wouldn't he feared lo use in • another, omebody et. Cer- ke swim- keep on of certifi- ;mployed lort as if as bottle- :fatigable I the first le posted notices, and a large proportion of the advertisements answered were but the disguises worn by unadulterated meanness — ^baits of men who were planning to secure slaves that would do their work with'.^'Mt cost. Every evening Bert would call upon Don to report, and his company and persistent encouragements did much to keep Don's spirits up. One evening Don began his usual report by saying: "Well, I have made a big dash this afternoon." Bert at once became much excited, and pressed for a full explanation. "I had about made up my mind that I was tired of running around this town like a beggar, when, at the bottom of the Square I saw a notice that a boy was wanted to ship on board a vessel bound for Japan. I went in and after talking with the man who keeps the place, agreed to sign the papers to-morrow." Bert flushed with excitement, and said almost angrily: "But you will do no such tiling. That place is the beginning of perdition to nearly all who step across the sill. It is kept by a land-shark which is the meanest and the most cruel of all the sharks that swim the sea or roam the land. Perhaps you don't know what a land-shark is. I'll tell you: It is a man who tells you that he has got a nice fat thing for you; a chance to see the world on a fine ship, and all that sort of thing. He .promises to fit you out w h a sea-rig and everything else you need, and to advance you money besides. When you have signed the papers and begin to find out things, you wili dis- cover that for your rig and your advance money he has shipped you before the mast and taken a mortgage on your wages from the time you leave port till the time you get into port again. When you get to sea you'll be kicked about by brutes M 66 AIR CASTLE DON *'5f* ¥ % It- till you become a brute yourself. If you live to get back again you'll be landed without a cent. Then they'll take you to some low doggery and keep at you till you are forced to ship again under the same conditions. And so they keep it up indefin- itely, unless by some special good chance you escape from their clutches I know the scoundrel who wants to take you in, and if my inother was not such a good woman I'd swear at you hot and heavy for being deceived by such a dog-livered funk as that." Don had listened to the sugary words of the land-shark, but had no knowledge or intimation of what lay back of the apparently considerate and friendly oflfers of the unscrupulous schemer, who intended to sell him soul and body. Bert's hot words opened his eyes, and he became alarmed. "Well," said he desperately, "I have passed my word, and that is something I have never gone back on yet." "Passed it for what?" Bert exclaimed indignantly. "Did you see the papers? Did the fellow give you any hint of the coiiditions of the bargain? Don't say a word to me yet," he added, as he saw that Don was about to speak. "Come with me and see how quickly I'll straighten this thing out, and con- vince you that if a man promises to send you straight to the New Jerusalem that is no reason why you should allow him to put a rope around your neck that will drag you to the other place by express. Don followed him across the Square to the Mariner's House, whicli was supported by a religious association, and kept by a religious superintendent in the interest of men who followed the sea. As soon as they entered the office, Bert, addressing a good looking man. sairl : "Mr. Truesdale, I want you to go with us 'Ig ^lfmyv i f^jrffi ' vm ' "v, "0i,i w - -^ AIR CASTLE DON 67 •ack again lu to some ihip again p indefin- :ape from take you 1 swear at 3g-Iivered nd-shark, ck of the :rupulous Bert's hot vord, and ly. "Did int of the f yet," he me with and con- ht to the him to le other lariner's ion, and len who a good with us to Lammel's den. He's trying to lay one of his old tricks on my friend, Don Donalds." This intimation was sufficient, con. ig as it did from a lad with whom the superintendent was Wv II acquainted, and he immediately followed them. On the way Bert informed him of what had taken place between Don and the land-shark, and also of what Don had said about keeping his word. When they filtered the den, Lammels quailed. Nor was he much assured when the superintendent said: "You have been making one of your bargains with this boy," pointing to Don. "Let me have the papers, please." Lammels knew the extent of Truesdale's authority, and passed the papers to the superintendent who, notwithstanding the evil scowls of the schemer, read them to Don from begin- ning to end. "When you said that you would sign the shipping papers to-morrow, did you mean that you would sign such papers as these?" asked the superintendent, turning to Don. "No, sir," was the emphatic answer. "He said he would fill in the blanks and have the papers ready for me to sign in the morning." "But he would have gotten your signature without reading to you the terms of the contract. Are you willing to sign nov» that you know what the conditions are?" "No, sir," said Don, more emphatically than before. "Lammels, you have been trying to inveigle a minor into your clutches; I'll keep these papers and report you to the police," and the superintendent put the papers into his pocket, and turned to leave. He was, however, detained by the piti- ful whining of the land-shark, who begged hard for mercy. Don declared that he himself was partly to blame for not looking more closely into the terms of the contract, and in 4 4 -.^.;.:mA iw turn- i-i 68 AIR 0A8TLB DON case of prosecution he should be obliged to testify to that effect. Turning to Lammels, the superintendent said, decidedly and severely : "I'll keep the papers, but if you are not arrested it will be owing to the good graces of your interided victim. I am tired of your villainies, and if I can get a good square case against you I'll send you to the penitentiary without mercy; that is where you and all your tribe belong." "Now, my lad," said Truesdale, while they were walking across the Square, "before you make any more bargains with strangers, come to me and let me know what you are about. The city is full of schemers, some of whom are apparently respectable people, but who for the sake of making a few dol- lars would stop at nothing. The Mariners' Home is open to you at any time ; we have an excellent reading room over there, and you are welcome to the use of it at all times. I am glad that you have Bert Williams for a companion ; he's got an old head on his young shoulders, and it will be worth your while to listen to what he says. When the boys had reached the attic region again, and while they were sitting in Bert's room, he said, referring to their former conversation about church steeples: "Well, Don, I'll candidly confess that the steeple punched a hole through that rascality in a very neat way. But for that Mariners' Home many a poor fellow would be ruined in less than no time." "Yes, the steeple did the punching, but you did the prompt- ing," Don replied, "and I begin to realize that you have saved me from making a fatal mistake. I'll confess that I am as green a country punpkin as ever set foot in a city; but if I am with you much longer I think that I shall begin to show some other colors." j r i t- . i < i i « i..i r^i^-:, -SciiS*' ff^giJiP ! i^#-^^^^-^. ' y^;*'*^f^^ wm ify to that decidedly ot arrested led victim, quare case mt mercy; 'e walking grains with are about, apparently a few dol- ls open to jver there, I am glad g:ot an old rour while gain, and ferring to ^ell, Don, through Mariners* than no prompt- ive saved I am as It if I am ow some AIR OASTLB DON > QQ Bert laughed in a shame-faced way, yet used Don's gener- ous compliment as an excuse for anotherattack, saying, without any beating of the bush : "Now look here, Don, I have got another bone to pick with you. That dinner business is a dead fake. You go without your dinner. And you are green enough to think that you have covered up the deception by saying tfiat when it ij more con-ve-ni-ent for you, you will take your dinner with us. You might have known that that dodge was too thin for anything, and that I would find you out." "How did you find it out?" asked Don, giving himself away in the confusion produced by the suddenness of the attack. "By just guessing at it till I knew it was so," Bert replied rather indefinitely, and with some embarrassment, for he had not failed to observe that there was that in Don's manner that warned him that he wa& treading upon very delicate ground. "Have you said anything to your mother or Nora about this?'* was the next somewhat portentous question. "Of course not," Bert said in a hurry. "What you kept as a secret from me, I felt in honor bound to keep secret from them. But the bare thought of you going hollow all through the middle of the day has knocked the bottom out of my appe- tite time and time again. And when I have left my dinner almost untouched, worrying about you, mother and Nora would dig questions into me so deeply and rapidly I was com- pelled to burrow like a groundhog in order to keep out of their reach." Much relieved to find that his affairs were not being dis- cussed by the little family, and grateful to Bert for his manly reserve, Don said: "Your honor and sympathy and generos- ity are worthy of one of Sir W. Uer Scott's knights, and I can '■m - ^^^^j^jfji-rdi . ».«^ "r',.7T' ■.!»,•■ ~rr^ 70 AIR 0A8TLQ DON >> talk with you freely. I'm too poor to pay three dollars — the full rate for an attic boarder, so I cut my garment according to my cloth. I do not suffer, and therefore I don't want to be pitied. It isn't a bad plan, this going without one meal a day; it makes you value the other two all the more. Continue to be a good fellow by keeping silent about my dinner. "But look here, Don Donalds;" this pride of yours may be a good thing to have, and it may grow on the bushes where you have lived, yet I will tell you this: Mother is no fool; she can guess as well as I. I am sure that she is already bothering herself about this dinner affair. Nora is as much of a Yankee as her mother, and she is continually asking where you go to dine. She is such a kitten-hearted thing that she will almost go to pieces if she finds that you are in the habit of carrying an empty stomach one-third of the time." Don was silent at this new aspect of the case. He saw that his expedient was too transparent to be concealed. Gathering boldness from his silence, Bert said: "Let us split the differ- ence and call it two dollars and a half a week, and then you can eat your dinner like a man and feel as proud as you please." "It's no use, Bert," Don exclaimed, suddenly becoming confidential; "my pocket-book is far gone with consumption already; and I must stick to my plan even though you pro- claim it from the cellar to the house-top." "Well, here's my ul-ti-ma-tum ; I believe that's what they call it, and if you don't comply with it I'll sulk at you with forty-horse power all the rest of the time you are here. I spend more than fifty cents a week for mere nothing;^. I'll save that money and bank it in you. You'll take it every Sat- urday night and nobody shall know anything about it. That will make up for your whole board. Of course, it will be a loan, to be paid back when you get ready. If you run entirely '^'*,: '^t.MM»U.;. hitler experience that in bad weather men's tempers had the rheumatism aiul that their woids were like dragon's teeth. On Such days he took refuge in Tl.i' Mariner's Home, where he .spent part of the time listening U) the vivid yarns of thi old sailors, who in the stormiest weather, like ducks and geese, were in the best of moods. What jol'y tars they werel What flooound and delivered over to the equally cruel negligences of tlie land. Boys think as readily as men, and quite as readily does the black bile get into their blood when fortune frowns unkindly; and quite as readily, too, does the black tide set all their thoughts awry. But, thank Heaven, they are more susceptible to the saving grace of hope and the healing balm of forget- fulness, and far more readily than men do they take heart again. And so, though Don had his mumps he made quick jumps from the 'Slough of Despond' to solid standing ground. Having formed the habit of reading the, daily press he had become so interested in current events as to find in their larger public scope influences which tended to diminish the magnitude of his private annoyances. All Boston and the 74 Ain CARTLK DON regions round about were rife with political excitement. By some inscrutable stretch of partisan nieanncss the great Daniel Webster had been refused the use of Taneuil for an address to his friends and constituents. "Daniel Webster shut out of I'ancuil llali!" exclaimed Bert indignantly, during one of their aftic conversations. "Great Scott! What a pickle that is for Boston to be in! It's enough to make one sick of the city." Daniel Webster was one of Don's idols, and sympathizing with Bert's indignation, he said: "I have always been taught that Webster was the world's greatest statesman, yet here he is without honor in his own city. What kind of patriotism do you call that?" "No, not without honor," was the quick rejoinder. "He comes to-morrow, and is to speak on Boston Common, and you will see the biggest crowd around him you ever saw in your life — yes, the biggest crowd you ever dreamt of. And it will be a crowd of honor, you may depend upon that. You are a lucky dog, for you can be one of them while I shall have to stay cooped up in that old store like a parrot in a cage. You'll remember his looks and his words as long as you live. There is only one Daniel Webster in this world, and he is so great I don't see where they are going to find a place big enough for him in the other world. One of the last things I did before I left school was to recite a part of one of his speeches, and the words made my blood hum as if I were a top." "Do you remember the words now?" Don asked, carried away by Bert's fervor. "I remember this much," said Bert, sliding into the stirring sentences as easily as a ship slides into the sea at a launching. They were from Webster's last speech in the senate of the '*s«SSEES m uluBiiMjiJ .1 ti i j i ui i jiwiu i«Li I ' ■■ "»"^"r" m Ain OARTLR DON 7ft By )aniel Idress United States: "For myself, I propose, sir, to al)idc by the principles and the purposes T have avowed. I shall stand by the Union and all who stand by it. I shall do justice to the whole country, according to the best of my ability, in all I say, anil act for the gooti of the whole country in all I do. I tnenn to stand upon the Constitution. I need no other plat- form. [ shall know but one country. The ends I aim at shall be my ''untry's, my God's, and Truth'*. I was born an Amer- ican; I vvill live an American; I shall die an American; and I intend to perform the duties incumbent upon me in that char- actf'r to the end of my career. I mean to do this, with absolute disregard of personal consequences. "That's the kind of talk Webster gave us," Bert went on, "talk that ought to lift everyone out of the nutd of meanness into the pure sky-blue. And yet, confound it! We've got enough dirty politicians here in Boston to shut him out of Faneuil Hall. If I had them alt in a bunch, I'l boil them in a lye-vat and see if I couldn't get some of the dirt out of them." "Yes, you are at a boiling point already, and I don't blame you," said Don, "for men who would insult such a man as Webster are as bad as that land-shark Lammels, you hate so much." "Lammels!" Bert exclaimed explosively; "why, he is one of the city fathers; he's the alderman from our ward, and there are several others just like him who run their wards by whiskey and then try to run the city by the same kind of stuff. Most of our politicians are only fit for boot-blacks to the devil." Don knew little about city governments, and less about politics in general and becoming interested in the knowledge that this city boy seemed to posses, he asked by way of inform- ation: "Isn't Webster a politician?" I'i' m 76 AIR CASTLE DON Bert Hashed indignantly at his friend for an instant, but seeing that he was not trifling with him he repHed : "Yes, he is a politician, only you spell it p-a-t-r-i-o-t, and that makes the same difference that there is between Satan and the angel Gabriel. And you'll know well enough what I mean when you hear Webster to-morrow." When Don reached the speaking place on Boston Common the next day, he found the space between the Frog Pond and the Public Garden filled with tens of thousands of people. And when the great statesman ascended the platform the wel- coming voice of the multitude was as the sound of many waters. When, after he was introduced by the chairman of the meeting, he waved his hand for silence the tumult sank to a dead stillness that was as impressive as the acclamation that preceded it. Nor was the calm disturbed save when some tell- ing point of the masterly address awoke the plaudits of the rapt listeners. From the outskirts of the vast crowd, by processes best known to a boy, Don edged his way through the mass little by littlCj^till he reached the front of the platform on which Webster stood. Inch by inch, as if irresistibly drawn by the magnetism of the speaker, he wormed his way up the steps to the last one, where he sat with uplifted face enthralled by the high brow, the dark deep set eyes, the grave countenance, the deep voluminous voice, the magic words, the transparent thoughts and the calm mighty earnestness of the "God-like man" before him. And once when Webster, leaning slightly forward for an instant, looked steadily down into his eyes he felt as though he were expanding into the largeness of space itself. Nor was he again conscious of the world about him till the mighty shout which marked the last sentence of Webster's last public speech brought him back to earth. Something in ^Bsa9BMiH#aaaaE*ii ■iMMiWiiMM .-'*i 9^:m>^^^mmmmm. AIB CASTLB DON n the boy's rapt attitude drew the attention of the statesman to him, and while the applause was still thundering through the air he extended his hand to Don and greeted him with a grave earnest pressure that thrilled him with unspeakable pleasure, although for the life of him he could not keep the tears back while, for the first and the last time he gazed into the sad, mighty countenance of America's greatest intellect. Weak- ened by severe labor, disappointed in his great ambition, over- burdened with patriotic anxieties, and, what was far worse, grieved by the rankest ingratitude, Webster returned to Marshfield, where, in a few short months his remains were deposited in the bosom of mother earth. The spell, which was never to be entirely broken, was still strong upon Don, when Bert, eager to obtain an account of the meeting, rushed into the attic as soon as he leturned from the store and began to ply him with anxious questions. "I shall never see or hear his like again, though I should live a thousand years," said Don, breathing a long, deep sigh. "He made me think of the giant singing pines of Nova Scotia, and of the mighty waves I have seen beating against the Nova Scotian coast. All the steeples in the city couldn't equal the greatness of that one man ; and, though you won't believe me, he, Daniel Webster, shook hands with me at the close of his speech." "You I" exclaimed Bert incredulously. Then Don explained till Bert believed. "Yet, the man who can speak like a God, and shake hands with a boy like a friend is shut out of Faneuil Hall by such rascally politicians as Lammels and his gang," Bert exclaimed angrily, unable to banish from his mind the indignity to which his great ideal had been subjected. "But the fools wrought more wisely than they knew; if 'IBSV s4 78 AIR CASTLE DON they had not shut him out he would not have spoken to fifty thousand people to-day," said Don, possibly exaggerating the number of the vast audience. Don's great day extended over several other days, for that one hour and a half of Webster remained so vividly with him as to obliterate the divisions of day and night and morning and evening. And it was while he was preoccupied with the one event that another — a second event happened, and welded itself to the first, so that the two thrilling experiences were identified with each other. On the third evening after the Webster speech, Bert, with- out the ceremony of knocking, about which he had always been scrupulously particular, broke into his room radiant with some new excitement "What do you think, old boy!" he exclaimed, almost breathlessly. "Webster," said Don, truthfully, "I can hardly think any- thing else. I am afraid that if my old friend, Peter Piper, were here, he'd say I was climbing Jacob's ladder when I ought to be fighting my battles on solid ground of some kind." "Well, I have a bit of solid ground for you," said Bert. "What is it?" asked Don anxiously, beginning to feel that Bert had important news for him. "This afternoon I had to go into a bookstore to get some books to help fill out one of our orders, and there in the window was a notice — 'Boy Wanted.' So, as soon as I got the books, I asked about the notice, and said I knew a boy who might possibly suit them. Wickworth & Co. know me so well that they began to ask questions about you, I simply answered their questions without plastering on the praises. At the end I did venture to tell them about Webster shaking hands with you; it was a chance shot but it went straight to Tiriiili W'! ' JI ' *H » W I "I ,l « » i « IJll'i V |i«i' 1' i.l«l!cesses d, but in its others, i:eneral s, was minent ;d, and junior s black fiercely le chief artable. ntimate es. In n man- at they ? when quickly nation. ;arance gener- iiately. Daniel 3 corn- Don thereupon began his work with a light and resolute heart. He was to open and close the store, clean up and dust down, pack and unpack boxes of books, wait upon customers as opportunity ofifered, and do the outside errands of the firm. These outside errands formed the most important part of his duties. If books in stock were not sufficient to meet orders upon the firm, he was to go among the other stores, and in accordance with the courtesies of the trade, pick them up wherever he could find them. This required accuracy and dis- patch, but it was congenial because it involved trust and at the same time outdoor change. While making his first rounds in this outside department of duty he was at once recognized as a newcomer and an inex- perienced hand. He was accordingly subjected to occasional tricks and chaffing by the boys who had already passed their novitiate in the temples of The Black Art. Having been fore- warned by Bert that such would be his fate, he met his tor- mentors with unfailing good nature and gave as good as he got. There was only one instance in which he lost his temper, and this was in Phillips & Sampson's store, where a very opprobrious epithet was applied to him one morning by a young underling of the store force. Don was not only described as verdant, but as something a good deal worse. Laying the books he had under his arms upon the counter, and turning to his tormentor, he said: "I will confess that I am green as compared with fellows of your stripe, but I am going to teach you that in speaking so disrespectfully to me, you are far greener than I." And he seized him and shook him till the victim was ready to cry quits. It happened that one of the proprietors overheard the epithet, though it was spoken in an undertone, and Don see- '■^1 •VW ' Jf^^- 84 AIR CA8TLK DON ing that he was present, said: "I beg your pardon, sir; but I draw the line of jest at the term used by your clerk, and if I had him in some other place he would not get off as easy as he has." "It served him right," said the proprietor; "and no apology is necessary from you ; that should come from him." The incident soon went the Founds of the stores, and thenceforth Don was exempted from annoyance. Deacon Wickworth having heard of the episode, called Don into the counting room and reproved him for letting his temper get the better of his business relations. The colonel followed him to the business room, and with twinkling eyes, said: "This is one of the things about which my brother and I diflfer. Without questioning his motives or lessening your respect for him, I desire to say, that I am glad you shook that whelp, but I am sorry that you didn't shake him out of his boots and whip him besides." Doubtless the colonel's soldierly blood and experiences were responsible for his belligerent regrets. The clerks of the store had been disposed to sneer at Don because of the somewhat rustic suit of clothes he still wore, and they had also been inclined to attribute his belligerency to his rusticity; but now that the colonel had applauded him for enforcing due respect for his rights, they treated him as one of themselves. Bert soon heard of the incident through an acquaintance at the store where it occurred, and lost no time in telling it to his mother and Nora. As in duty bound, the mother while regretting the affront, also regretted the violent resentment provoked by it. Nora, however, clapped her hands, girl-like, and with sanguinary fierceness, very similar to that of the colonel, declared that she was sorry that Don had not torn ■MM »lr; but 1. and if [easy as ipology |es, and T ^t^jfttms mmi mfimtmmm* mfjmMmm m nii i AIR 0A8TLB DON 05 the very coat from his insuher's back. This was such an unspeakably naughty wish for a young and gentle girl, that her mother began to reprove her witli great severity. "Why, mother," Nora interrupted, "what would you do if you were called by an awful bad name?" "I'd let it pass without notice ; mere names can't change the nature of the person to whom they are given." "But if they were not right they would stir you up all the same, said Bert. "And though they might not set your arms going, as they did in Don's case, they'd set your pale face flaming like dry kindling." "And I'd scratch the eyes out of anyone that insulted me!" exclaimed Nora, indignantly. Bert and Nora being in the majority, the mother without acquiescing in their opinions or sympathizing with their feelings, remained discreetly silent. When the boys were in the front attic after tea, Bert said: "I overheard some of the folks in our store talking about you to-day. Mr. Phillips, who saw you shake that Bob Larkins, was telling Mr. Ticknor and Oliver Wendell Holmes about the fracas. He said you shook Larkins as a terrior shakes a rdt, and then apologized to the house as though you were Sir Charles Grandison. The little doctor got his face all screwed out of shape he laughed so heartily ; and he said that if Russell Lowell got hold of the story he'd make a whole Bigelow Paper out of it." "Aren't you stretching things a bit?" asked Don, coloring like a peach. "Business men and authors can hardly be inter- ested in such things as boys' squabbles." "Don't deceive yourself about that! If Daniel Webster himself were to hear how his boy-listener got turned into a clothes-shaker he'd laugh in spite of all his statesmanship and dignity. Every man is but the ghost of a boy, and though he •*l Y r.mtLlTiitLfim'faF'^ '■'lh i "rffft Tj f ■Mi IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) Y Jo {/ A ,<° €P. fi t^ f/. t 1.0 I.I 1.25 m ~" »^5 ilM I !M lll||M 2.0 i40 Photographic Sciences Corporation 1.8 1.4 111.6 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 k ■■'^''•>r''''f'''r''i'?S'i^'^f^^'!i^'''^?^?f?SV^r!W^^^^^-v^'' -fSpesssss^ffSSiSiJ***;-*'*'* L-y CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHM/ICIVIH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiquos vV is f - CASTLE DON should {jrow as gray and as cold as a cloud, the stories of boy- scrapes will set thp ghos*^ to grinning like a comic mask. I'm nothing but a boy, yet I keep my eyes and ears open to men, and I know how men talk over their boy -times to one another, and how they laugh about boy-scrapes. I haven't been at Ticknor & Fields' for nothing, nor even for five dollars a week only." Bert not only spoke precociously, but he looked so prema- turely knowing that Don was slightly overawed, as was expressed when he said: "Look here, Bert! You talk about men being but the ghosts of boys ; but I solemnly believe that you are an old man masquerading in a boy's skin; and some- times you make me feel as though you were never a real downright boy, such as we have in the country." "I wish from the bottom of my heart that I had been born in the country," Bert replied with a sigh; "it would have been something to remember. If you had been born and brought up in a city among the bricks and stones and the rattle of pave- ments and lht=. everlasting rush of people, without a chance to see the country from one year's end to another, you wouldn't wonder at my carrying such a wrinkled old soul in such*a young body. You'd feel as if you had been put in pickle in the days of Noah and had never had a chance to get out of it." Thinking that he had touched a tender chord with too rough a hand. Don began to explain and to qualify his mean- ing, but was immediately interrupted with: "Oh, you need not be at the trouble of taking your shoes oflf, now that you have so effectually kicked me with them on. True, you made me feel bad, but it is such a goodish kind of badishness that I should not object to more of it. You may let the blood out of my veins if you will only refill them with some of the fresh stuff that runs in your own." ' yjf ' B^vv ' W"' AIR CASTLE DON ^ Then abruptly changing the subject, he asked : "How do you like Wickworth and company?" "Quite well; or, to be perfectly honest, I like the colonel first rate, and the deacon second rate. But we ought not to discuss the characters of the people for whom we work — ought we?" Bert looked at him seriously for a moment, and then broke into a laugh. "It is easy to see," he said, "that your con- science was brought up in a country garden, where there was plenty of room and soil ; but you may as well understand first as at last that mine sprung up through cracks in the pavement and that consequently it is rather weak and stunted. Yet, right or wrong, I will say this ; in our attic we have the liberty to say what we please about our employers. Why shouldn't we discuss them behind their backs, when they would as good as cuss us to our faces if we should happen to let one of their smallest pins drop out of place? When we went into service we -xpected to serve as lightning rods for every thunder storm that might occur in the ter^per of our masters. And, besides, 'that careless boy* is the scapegrace upon whose back are placed a!! the sins of omission and commission that properly belong to the other understrappers of the establishment. Our attic is our kingdom, where we propose to reign over our tongues like emperors. If you were to tell th« truth about the colonel and the deacon, you would admit that in their cases, as well as in some others, appearances are very deceiving." "Yes," Don replied, relaxing in his scruples, "the smooth, benevolent face of the deacon made me think that he was good enough for a whole steeple, while the rough face and manners of the colonel made me think that he was ugly enough for a whipping post." I ti !?, r txi AIR OASTLB DON "Exactly; the sugar tag is on the deacon and the acid tag on the colonel, when it ought, by good rights, to be just the other way. Somebody made a big blunder when those two packages of humanity were done up. I never see them with- out asking as Tom Hood makes his bachelor ask in The Bach- elor's Dream at the end of every verse : ; * • ; - What d* ye think of tha*. my cat? ' * ' What d* ye think of that, my dog?" "I am afraid," said Don, "that the remembrance of what you have said may sometimes take me unawares and tickle me into laughing at them under their very noses." "If the deacon were to see you smiling, he would freeze you at a glance, but if the colonel should happen tc catch you at it, he would take it for granted that your thought: were worth laughing at, and would smile to see you smile. There is more fun in him than you would think. I was over there one day for books. He took them from the shelf and slammed them upon the counter as if he we: i firing hot shot at the Mexicans. I laughed aloud at his seeming ugliness, and then u?ked his pardon for my impudence; and I was in such a hurry to do it, too, that the ludicrousness of it set him to shaking all over. Seeing how his mirth contradicted his slamming of the books, I giggled like a girl, and to save myself I cut and run as fast as I could go." "I notice that he has a habit of slamming books about," said Don; "and he does it sometimes when there isn't a soul standing near him. What do you suppose makes him do it?" "In the first place a book is as good as a door for a slam when you don't want to say damn right out; and in the second place, when you catch him at that sort of thing, it is more than likely that he has been having some kind of a battle with h*« brother. It is common talk among the book stores that acid tag just the lose two itn with- le Bach- of what ickle me ;eze you ou at it, e worth is more one day ed them exicans. ■ked his to do it, ill over, books, as fast about," a soul do it?" a slam second more e with :s that AIR CASTLE DON 89 he and his brother do not agree over well about anything. You, however, should not trouble yourself about their differ- ences, for they do not concern you. Yet allow me to give you this tit of advice; when the deacon is around, keep your face as tight as the face of a base ball, but when the colonel is near you can let it do as it pleases. If both should happen to be by, you can look base ball on one side, and Don Donalds on the other side. If your conscience should trouble you for being doublefac^d, you can easily pacify it by pleading necessity." "There is an easier way than that," replied Don seriously, "and that is to do my duty to the best of my ability and then leave my face to look out for itself. I detest hypocrisy of any kind." "Yes; that is just the danger of it. You hate hypocrisy so much, and, at the same time have such a tell-tale countenance that some of these days your contempt for the deacon will blaze into your face and then there will be the deuce to pay, for he is suspicious as well as vindictive. So, for your own good, it will be best for you to cultivate, or, rather, to sev; on a good leather base ball face over the threads and yarns of your heart. And by the way, I need to take some of my own advice, for I do not always practice in the store what I am preaching here in the attic. I am naturally inclined to sulk if things do not suit me, and although I have the best of employers, I am awfully sulky some days. It is then that I get my worst knocks. And it is not to be wondered at either, for a sulky face is the most impudent and insulting show that one can make while on duty." "Suppose we give one night a week to the study of this face business?" said Don, quite soberly. "Our teachers used to drill us in facial expression whenever we had anything to ■■■' II 1^11 iiifii ■MiMitfainnr:,. rniii^liiJflrf 90 AIR CASTLE DON declaim; we can go a little further, and drill ourselves in facial repose. Such an exercus as this would help us to guard our- selves from having our feelings known to everybody that chooses to poke his glances at us when we are supposed to be out of humor." "I agree to that, and you shall be the teacher; for while you are laughing at me in your sleeves you are keeping as sober as if you were a law book bound in sheep. You are better at face-keeping than I supposed you could be." "How, then, did you know that I was laughing in my sleeves, as you say?" "Because the twinkles were leaking out of the corners of your eyes; "we'll have to discipline them, too, if our lessons are to do us any good. But it strikes me that our conversa- tion has taken a queer turn; we began by criticising our employers, and end by criticising ourselves." "That is a good place to end at, but it would be still better if we were to begin there and keep there most of the time," said Don, and so suggestively withal, that Bert deemed it advisable to change the subject. I ■; ■% < -■/ t,-.«. s in facial uard our- >ody that 3sed to be while you ', as sober : better at ig in my romers of ir lessons conversa- ising our itill better he time," leemed it !ry."-qrn . "(iw* ■■"'i'" "" p^ji f' ''-w ^ > i. •' ii«ii II W{^'m^m9f^f^^'^mi9g^mmmmrm^''^^^m9* J I I I I . mw i i^ j CHAPTER IX. PAYING FOR A DISAPPOINTMENT. One evening Bert entered Don's attic with an evening paper in his hand, and a great project in his head. "I have hit it at last," he said mysteriously. "A fortune, I hope, for there is nothing too good for you," said Don, sympathetically responding to Bert's look and manner. "No, there is no such thing as a fortune for a North Square gamin, but it is something that will answer equally well for one day at" least. You know that there is to be a great rail- road celebration in Boston next week, and this paper says that all business will be suspended for the day." "And that means a holiday I'or us," Don said quickly. "What shall we do with it? Spend the day playing ball at the foot of Boston Common? Or shall we play ball during the forenoon and fish from the end of the wharf during the rest of the day?" "No, sir!" said Bert, with a vigorous toss of his head, and a touch of scorn in his face; "that sort of thing got played out with me long, 1-o-n-g ago. I'm sick of Boston Common and its everlasting sameness; and unless you take a rocking chair with you, it is too hard work sitting on an oak plank waiting for a bite that may never come." "Then we will run about the town after the bands, the soldiers, societies and the speakers and big men; that will be better still," said Don. (91) i^ ill: UHMriMi • AIR CASTLE DON "I have had so much of that, that if they were to join Eng- land and tlie United States together by rail, instead of Canada and Boston, and were to b-ing together all the soldiers, drums and big men of the two countries, I wouldn't give a peanut for the show. I am going to compensate myself for the greatest disappointment of my life by celebrating the day according to my own notions, and not according to the notions of the city fathers or the city children either." And Bert spoke so slowly and solemnly that Don was unable to decide whether he was in earnest or in jest. * "What was your disappointment?" he asked by way of get- ting at his friend's purpose. "I told you not long since, that I was born and brought up in Boston — and I suppose I ought to be proud of it to my dying day — bu'. I forgot to tell you that when I was one year old, my m.other took me with her when she made a voyage around the world with father while he was captain of the ship Fleetwood. Now, if there is anything under the sun that is more provoking than any other thing, it is to discover that you have travelled all over creation without knowing or enjoy- ing the trip. I awoke the other night and thought the whole matter out, and I concluded that that trip was the greatest disappointment of my life. Don began to laugh, and the more he looked at Bert, and saw how he kept his face, the more he laughed. "What are you going to do about it? How can you com- pensate for it?" Don asked, with difficulty restraining another outburst of mirth. "I am going to hire a sailboat on railroad day and make a trip with Nora down the harbor and into the country. I never did such a thing before, and I never expect to do it again." "But if you have never managed a boat, you cannot do it "••'^^'W? w^ AIR CASTLE DON 98 |join Eng- >f Canada rs, driims eanut for |e greatest ccording 3f the city so slowly -r he was ay of get- brought it to my one year [a voyage the ship in that is 3ver that 3r enjoy- he whole greatest 5ert, and 3u com- another make a I never in." it do it now; it would be foolhardy to attempt it." Don was becom- ing alarmed. "I don't propose to do the managing; I suppose from what I have heard you say about handling boats, that you know all about them. I am going to find the boat and you are to do the niannging. How does that strike you?" Don clapped his hands applaudingly, ;«.nd promptly accepted the proposed burden. "But," said he, "your mother ought to be included in the party ; an outing will do her good." "I have spoken to her," Bert replied, "but since father's death she hates the sea so much she doesn't like even to look upon it. She believes that you have been accustomed to boats, and notwithstanding her dislike for salt water, is willing that Nora should accompany us. Nora is delighted, and I do not wonder, for she has been as much caged as I have. Boston Common is about all she knows of the outer world. Now you can begin to give your orders as soon as you please, for though you are green to the city, I am greener still so far as the water or the country is concerned." > ,i "There is little ordering to be done," said Don; "all we need is to secure a boat as early as possible, because boats will probably be in demand on that holiday. We can go to the boat basin to-morrow night and make our selection. I may add, that it will be well to provide an ample lunch, for as soon as your appetite finds that you are on salt water, it will begin to make larger demands than usual. To prevent disappoint- ment, I must warn you beforehand that everything depends upon the weather; we shall not start unless all the signs promise good weather for the day. With Nora to care for, we shall not even risk discomfort." "I don't believe that the Lord takes much stock in railroads or in railroad celebrations," Bert began, "and if the rain took •dhkMM 94 AIR OASTLB DON i a notion to come down on that day, I don't believe that he'd prevent it for the railroad's sake. But if he knew that a girl and two boys were praying for good weather so that they might get out of prison for a few hours, I think he'd tell ihe clouds to steer clear of Boston for their sakes. At any rate all three of us ought to pray hard for a favoring sky. But even in case there shouldn't be a cloud in sight when we start, wouldn't it be prudent to have a pair of umbrellas with us?" "Oh, don't make light of sacred things!" Don exclaimed in a shocked way. "I am not making light of them; I am only putting in my heaviest licks to get them to be on our side," Bert protested. "When one is trying to pay himself for the greatest disappoint- ment of his life, joking is out of the question. I shall ask mother co pray for us, for she has lots of religious gumption. If there should be anything crooked about our prayers, hers would be straight enough to make up for them, even though she should bring the clouds down to the surface of the water on Celebration Day." . Don was a good judge of boats, and he selected a trim, staunch little craft that carried a jib and mainsail with sheets and halliards running aft, where he could handle them without moving from the tiller. Bert would be of no service as a sailor, but with the ropes under his own hand, Don, m case of head wind could tack as he pleased, and, should x squall spring up, he could drop his sails in an instant. The anxiously anticipated day came like the smile of God; a cloudless, balmy day with just wind enough to foster the impression that the Infinite Father of all was breathing peace- fully and paternally upon a short-sighted and sorrowing world, and wooing it to think of that better country in which "God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes ; and there shall ifiifii ^---*^-''--'^'-^"''''''"' *'^'^'''*^"^'^'*'''''*^^ ■< " " r-' f AIR CA8TLB DON 96 that he'd Ihat a girl that they fd tell ihe any rate iky. But we start, th us?" laimed in ng in my jrotested. sappoint- shall ask umption. ers, hers 1 though he water 1 a trim, th sheets without ice as a m case i squall of God; ster the ', peace- r world, which re shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain, for the former things are passed away." Don looked his boat over with an experienced eye, and seeing that everything was snug and ship-shape, he hoisted his sails and swung out into the stream among the numerous little craft that gaily floated around him, with a confidence and skill that commanded Bert's unbounded admiration and respect. Nora's happiness was so great that, finding no words with which to express her pleasure, she sat as still as a brooding bird. Only once did Bert become alarmed. Don was running the boat close into the wind. Dead ahead of him there was a crowded excursion steamer with scores of flags floating in the bright sun. "She'll run U'S down," Bert shrieked at the top of his voice. "Not a bit of it," said Don calmly; "I have the weather gage and she will recognize that I have the right of way." "But a big craft like that won't mind such a shell of a thing as we are in. For Heaven's sake, Don, get out of her way!" But Don, unmoved, kept his course, and when the steamer began to draw near she swung from her straight wake making a graceful curve, which left the boat a safe distance to wind- ward. The man at the wheel knew that the little craft was sovereign in her rights, and he changed his direction as a matter of course, while the gaily dressed passengers waved their handkerchiefs and cheered at the young voyagers in the boat. "Well, I declare!" Bert exclaimed, wiping the perspiration from his face, "if that's the way the weather gage works, why don't they land some of it and apply it to the big things that are always running over the small things?" ■iMiaiiaiM MHaiMcaiyiig mfrna^ 96 AIR CASTLE DON ;;» "There is lots of it on shore- already," said Don, In a matter of fact way. "For instance, if you were pulling a hand-cart in the street and were on the right of it, the most aristocratic carriage tiiat goes would have to give you the right of way; and it is the same in a hundred other cases. But for this respect for the undoubted rights of others the world would be a good deal worse than it is." "I'll stick up for the weather gage all the rest of my days," said Hert. "But suppose that the steamer had not seen us?" he suddenly asked, after a pause. "That is not a supposahlo case," Don replied; "she had her lookout at the fore, ami it was his duty to see everything ahead of him; besides, the pilot himself steered with his eyes open. If I had steered any closer to the wind, I should have lost my headway altogether. The steamer knew that so far as we were concerned it was our duty to keep our course, and that is why she changed hers." "Yet I was almost frightened to death," Bert said sheep- ishly. Addressing himself to his sister, he added: "Weren't you scared?" "No; of course I wasn't," she replied truthfully; "and I wondered why you made such a fuss." "That was because you didn't know enough to be scared, and that is ihe way it generally is with you females." "Well, I would rather be ignorant than frightened. I am enjoying this sail altogether too much to spoil it by borrowing trouble. When Don begins to show the white feather, I will show mine to keep him company." "Well, I think you are about right after all, little Miss Coolhead." Then turning to Don, Bert said: "The outdoors you have lived in is a good deal wider than the indoors which has been AIR OABTLB DON 91 a matter land-cart ristocratic of way; for this would be ny days," seen us?" e had her ng ahead yes open, c lost my I we were at is why id sheep- "Weren't ; "and I e scared, I. I am •rrowing r. I will :le Miss ou have as been the prison-house of the most of my life, and you show it in almost everything you do or say. Boston may be the hub of the universe, as Oliver Wendell Holmes says, but I am inclined to think that she is only a fly on the real hub. Two things are becoming very plain to me; one is, that I have been raised in Boston, and the other is, that you have been raised in the universe. During the first of our acquaintance, i thought you very verdant, but I will never again call you green; never 1" Don smiled contentedly, but as the wind was freshening and the boat was careening to the breeze, he confined his energies and watchfulness to the management of the little craft. As they sailed further and further away from the city, and passed the islands in the outer harbor, Bert suddenly realized that a vast and pregnant silence was taking the place of the rasping and petty tumult of the city. Drawing a long breath of satisfaction he reverently said: "If this stillness keeps on growing at this rate it will soon be still enough to hear God." Don recalled the hours he had spent in the still glades of the wilderness, and responding to Bert's feelings, he replied: "Perhaps you are hearing Him already?" Just then a heavy battery of guns fired a salute in honor of the Governor-General of Canada, and Bert was so annoyed by the reverberations that he said reflectively: "We shall not hear God till we get beyond the sound of those guns." In preparation for the trip Don had stud'ed a map of the surroundings of Boston. Having gone as fa as he thought it was safe, he ran the boat into a little sandy bay and tied up to >^ small wharf. Thence they wandered over the white beach picking up shells and other marine curiosities. Then they passed into a lane that led to the upland farms, gathering many-hued pebbles as they went. Seeing a wide-spreading 98 AIR CASTLE DON apple-tree witl in a fence close by a farm house, they asked permission of the farmer to eat their dinner in the shade. "Of course," said the farmer, cordially, "that apple tree is just longing for someone to get under its shade. And speak- ing to a rosy-faced girl of about twelve, he added, smilingly: "Here, Doxy, get a half gallon of milk for these youngsters." While the three were enjoying the rich fresh milk under the tree, Nora said: "We never get such milk as this in the city." "No," Bert replied, "it gets so tired on the way to the city that by the time it comes to the table it is too weak for any- thing." But for his ingrain courtesy Don would have assented heartily to the remark, for all the milk he had seen since his arrival among North Square boarding houses, so nearly resembled the color of the sky, that fearing it was treated to doses of washing blumg, he abstained from it altogether. "Why, you drmk this milk, but you don't take any at home," said Nora innocently. "I am partial to cows," Don replied evasively, "and as this milk must be quite near to them, I drink it for their sakes." Nora looked at him so sharply, and blushed so vividly, that he repented at once, and immediately proposed that they should go into the woods after dinner. When they asked the farmer's permission io go into the wood-lot and gather ferns, he said: "Gather anything you please; take a cart load of ferns if you can find them. You are so polite and civil I am glad to see you enjoy yourselves." When they returned from the lot he invited them into the house, where the inmates brought them cool well water to cleanse the soil from their hands, and Doxy gave them large bunches of late flowers to take with them on their return. they asked lade. pple tree is And speak- smilingly: oungsters." milk under i this in the ' to the city ak for any- ve assented :n since his so nearly p treated to 'gether. ake any at 'and as this ;r sakes." rividly, that that they ro into the I'thing you lem. You ourselves." m into the 1 water to :hem large etum. AIK CASTLE DON 99 The wind being fair and strong the boat sped back to the city like a bird on wing, and Bert after a prolonged silence said: "This is the only whole day I have spent out of Boston since I was two years old. You may talk about your Webster day as the greatest day of your life, but this has been my greatest day, and very much of it I owe to your knowledge of the water and the country. Have you enjoyed it?" "Yes," Don replied, "it has been like being home again; and I have enjoyed it doubly because you and Nora were so happy." When the spoils of the day were arrayed upon the table before the little mother, accompanied by the voluble com- ments of her children the cloud of sadness and anxiety which was almost habitual with her, disappeared entirely, so that for the time being she looked as sunny as the children themselves. "I didn't see a single keep-your-hands-off, nor a single keep-off -the-grass sign while we were ashore," said Nora; "and we have been so near Heaven all day long that we almost tumbled in." ■f. „...-..■„—, .■j.oet, you e revolu- e right," ving yet -keeping is right it would tie more r going, rrimage, going. een his roposal. gations came out of the churches. The streets were filled with people, the sight of whom revived Don's scruples with such force that he said to his companion: "I can't stand this! Let's take an alley and get out of the crowd. The dust on our shoes and trousers will make them think that we are a pair of regular Sabbath-breakers." "You poor, innocent, white-breasted bird! Hasn't your conscience grown its skin yet?" Bert exclaimed, with some annoyance. "We have no more reason to be ashamed of our- selves than the people have for returning from the churches. There is small danger of you falling into the bottomless pit until you become a good deal wickeder than you are now. Come along," And he pushed ahead so aggressively that there was no alternative but for Don to follow. Don's uncomfortable feelings were dissipated when he reached the residence of the poet, an old, wooden-roomy house, destitute of all architectural pretension, yet so grandly shaded by elms and so beautifully fringed with shrubbery it made an ideal poet's nest. While the boy-pilgrims stood outside of the grounds reverently regarding the place made sacred by .so many noble associations, the poet came down one of the walks bareheaded, and, recognizing them, shook hands with them and cordially invited them to roam over the place at :heir will. Longfellow was below medium height, yet he was so broad shouldered that he was commanding in his physical appear- ance. He had a strikingly beautiful face, enlivened by deep dark eyes which glimmered beneath his high brow and pro- fusion of dark hair like lights from a great depth. Bert explained their mission and offered excuses for taking Sunday to execute it. "What other day could you take?" said the poet in his low melodious tones, and showing his sympathy with their desires. "Shop boys like you have scant time for i MHBMAicktfiM 104 AIR 0A8TLB DON i. I' pilgrimages on week days. You are to be commended for coming to see the house nade celebrated by the presence of Washington. Come with me and I will show you Adhere he planned the campaigns that led to the success of the revolution and gave birth to a new nation." Although they protested against intruding upon his privacy he led them into the house and in the most unconstrained way showed them Washington's room, and the relics connected with his stay under the roof. Not content with showing them over the house and more particularly through his study, he pressed them to remain for luncheon. But seeing that" they were embarrassed, and learning that they had their lunch with them and that they had set their hearts upon eating it beneath the shade of the Washington Elm, h; put on his hat and showed them over the entire grounds. His Evangeline was then fresh in the mind of the public. Bert had a much prized copy of the poem which had been presented to him by the poet himself not long brfore the time of their visit. The scene of the story being laid in Nova Scotia, Don had read it with great avidity, a fact which Bert made known to the poet with no little pride. Smiling with unaffected interest, Longfellow said: "Then I have been entertaining an angel unawares — ^two of them in fact. Perhaps I can learn something more about the wonder- ful peninsula which has already engrossed so much of my attention. There at the foot of that elm is a seat where I have thought out not a few of my poems; let us sit there while we talk of Nova Scotia." He was acquainted with the personal history of Constance La Tour, and her reckless and eccentric husband, and soon dis- covered that Don knew much of the locality where they spent a portion of their lives. With the eagerness of a child listen- i'!' ir ended for ■esence of where he evolution is prnacy lined way :onnected 'ing them study, he that" they inch with t beneath hat and le public, had been ■ the time /a Scotia, ert made : "Then ■ them in wonder- h of my re I have while we onstance soon dis- ey spent !d listen- i- :» •■■ ;!i • r*,-^ij:--fci^>r.-i: '■-'t*-.JKe«ttM5^y •♦iJ- ^^.'■j-.----:^r^,<7-vt'^^,^^^'i^lf^Smm^^^ AIR OASTLB DON 106 Jng to a fairy story, he listened to the description Don gave of Port La Tour and the surrounding scenery. "And so you have been a resident of Shelburne County?" he said toward the close, "and you have doubtless seen Shel- burne, the famous old shire town which has such a strangely pathetic origin and history, The Ten Thousand Tory Refugees who fled from the younp United States and carried with them a thousand slaves and expended millions of money with the intention of founding the metropolis of the new empire, were a sadly disappointed people when, at the end of two years they abandoned their little city to desolation, and, impoverished and wretched, returned to their native land. Some day some author will acquire fame by doing justice to a story which, in many respects is more touching and eventful than the story of Evangeline. Tell me how Shelburne looked when you were last there?" By asking many leading questions, he elicited from Don an account of the long nine-mile landlocked harbor, and of the wild country adjacent to it. And he was almost incredulous when told that only a few of the old brick buildings remained, and that even those were unoccupied and rapidly going to decay. He was scarcely prepared to believe that such a romantic beginning could end in such a bleak reality. While on the way back to Boston, Don said with consider- able feeling: "Well, I shall never forget the pilgrimage to Longfellow's house; I could not have been better pleased if I had been to Abbotsford and had seen Sir Walter Scott himself." Bert was gratified to hear him speak with so much satis- faction, but unable to restrain his native impishness, said: "To make up for our wickedness, we shall have to go to Father Taylor's this evening and get him to shrive our souls; that is, if your conscience still troubles you." -r-ntria'^Hrtft-sS-j?- .,,, ■ ■■ „ ^ ^M f ii my ii y^y . AIR OABTLB DON "We will go to the Mariners' Rcthel to hear Father Taylor, but Cambridge has tnadc no wounds of conscience that will need doctoring by him. It would be just like him to pat us on the back and call us good boys for going to see the poet. Although he is as eccentric as old Peter Piper, he is as gentle and as sensible as Longfellow himself." Not long after the Cambridge pilgrimage, Don had another experier which tended to exalt him to the upper regions. The arrivf of the Swedish singer, Jf'nny Lind, who was then at the height of her popularity, produced scenes of enthusiasm in the country that have been rarely equalled. In the course of her professional tour she visited Boston. She reached the city in a driving rain storm, notwithstanding which, her innu- merable admirers took the horses from her coach and drew her from the depot to her hotel. From the Wickworth store Don saw the crowd fill the street from curb to curb and as far up and down its length as the eye could see. The colonel, unable to restrain his enthusiasm, stepped to the door and shouted with the rest till he was hoarse, and his example encouraged Don to join in the tumult to the full measure of his noise- making power. As in New York, so in Boston, the first choice of tickets rose to upwards of five hundred dollars for a single ticket. This was not, however, so much a mark of appreciation as it was a desire for notoriety on the part of the purchaser, who belonged to that class of advertisers who would post their bills on the throne of the Almighty if they could get near enough to do it. Mid all tlie excitement P. T. Barnum, the Beelzebub of advertisers, under whose auspices Miss Lind came to this country, smiled serenely, and coolly measured the worth of the prevailing epidemic by the number of dollars it added to his already large fortune. •> ; ■ . •') ' -iiiiii»'*y*^"- Taylor, >mt will pat us He poet. gentle AIR OABTLB DON 107 When Bert reached the attic on the evening of the concert, he was as insane as everybody else and ho proposed that Don and he should join the nniltitudc of people that would be sure to gather around Fitchburg Hall, where the concert was to be given. "If we cannot afford to pay five hundred dollars for a ticket we may be able to steal a few notes of her singing," said he, "if we '•-1 get near enough to the hall to catch what comes through the windows." When they reached the hall the streets were packed with a struggling mass of humanity, but notwithstanding this the boys managed at no small risk of their limbs to get within a few steps of the great railway hall. Their wrath waxed hot when they found that Barnum, in order to prevent Jenny Lir;d from being heard in the streets, had ordered that every window in the building should be kept closed. Many in the crowd shared in their indignation and four young men standing near Don and Bert picked missiles from the street and showered them through the windows. The rash act would have pro- duced a serious panic within the building had not Jenny Lind, with great presence of mind, counteracted the terror by begin- ning one of her most captivating songs. But the mischief makers had accomplished their aim, for through the broken windows her singing came clear and strong to the infinite delight of the outsiders, who applauded and encored her with as much enthusiasm as those within the hall. Bert recounted the incident with great satisfaction to his mother. "When," said he, "Barnum becomes so selfish and mean that he is ready to smother an audience in foul air for the sake of preventing the music from leaking out of the build- ing, it is rime for Boston people to show what sort of stuff they are made of. The fellows who broke those windows • '^'"WWJWf'^BI^'W^BRSWf* . 106 AIR 0A8TLB DON i.-. must have been desccndrntd of tliose who threw the tea into the harbor. But yon ought to have heard her sing! No one can sing like inat unless she has a good deal of the angel in her." • Father Taylor had been signally kind to Swedish sailors, and Jenny Lind had become aware of the fact. She showed her gratitude for his attention to her countrymen by sending a liberal contribution for his work, and by attending his ser- vice the Sunday morning following the concert. The Mar- iners' Bethel was but a few steps from the widow's dwelling, and Don, in company with the family, was present. It having become known before the close of the service that Jenny Lind was among the worshippers, several Swedes, when the congre- gation was dismissed, pressed forward to pay their respects to their distinguished countrywoman. The example became contagious, and among the first to shake hands with her were Don and Bert, who were smilingly received, and graciously commended for being in the House of God. Although Jenny Lind would not be called a beautiful woman, Bert, on returning to the house, had much to say about her golden hair and deep blue eyes, her pretty lips and pearly teeth, her fresh complexion and graceful b'^aring. Don was chiefly impressed by her amiability, and with an ardor that equalled Bert's, he declared that she looked like an angel who was not more than twenty-four hours from Heaven. Such praises as these were altogether too strong for Nora's patience, and pouting her lips, she said with a touch of femin- ine jealousy: "Then why does she let Barnum make such an elephant of her?" With such a little Miss Daniel as this come to judgment there was nothing more to be said in her presence, and the boys fled to their attic, where they could worship their new divinity to their hearts' content. tea into No one angel in sailors, showed sending Ills scr- le Mar- welling, t having ny Lind congre- respects became ler were aciously >eautiful to say lips and . Don lor that fel who Nora's femin- uch an Igment nd the ir new CHAPTER XI. DKBP WATSR SOUNDINGS. Colonel Wickwor*' was a bachelor. That a man of means, old enough to know iiis mind, and one who had worn shoulder straps upon real battlefields, should be single, was one of the things that Don could not satisfactorily fathom. True, the colonel was as homely as a ram's horn, but Don knew that that of itself was no bar to matrimony, for he had known instances where the homeliest of men had taken their pick from the handsomest of women. As for himi;elf, he loved the colonel, not for his looks, but for his qualities, and he saw no reason why some of the surplus female population of Boston should not exercise the same discrimi:iation. He knew that the colonel, so far from being in favor of the abolition of the gentle sex, had in his hearing expressed his profound respect and admiration for all womankind, including Eve, notwithstanding she had been so long dead. He was, indeed, a firm believer in matrimony, and believed with Solo- mon that he who iindeth a wife, finds a good thing. Don had also heard the colonel say that families were good "things," and he thought that, notwithstanding boys and girls were so common, they were the most wonderful "things" under the sun. Boys and girls who knew the colonel knew that he was a perfect love of a man. The colonel's young relatives not infre- quently dropped into the store just for the sake of getting a (109) ■ 110 AIR CASTLE DON look at him; and one mite cf a niece, after receiving a box of bon-bons from the ex-soldier, testified in confidence to Don that her dear old uncle was as good r.s anybody that ever went to Heaven, or came from it, either, for that matter. Then, why was he single? Ah, Don, you would have saved yourself needless worry if you had said: "He remains single because he doesn't want to become double." That would have been the simplest solution. Colonel Wickworth had become much attached to Don, and he showed his liking by giving him tickets to concerts, lectures, first class theatrical entertainments, and — circuses, also. Liking Bert almost as well as he did Don, it invariably happened that, although he kept himself single, he made his tickets double so that the juvenile Damon might have the com- pany of his juvenile Pythias. The colonel's wits were as bright as his sword, and he knew that these two birds of a feather would be happiest together. The colonel was an intimate friend and a faithful parish- ioner of Theodore Parker, at that time the most celebrated preacher in Boston, or New England. It must, however, be confessed that one reason why the colonel stuck to this preacher was because the preacher obstinately stuck to himself. That is to say, he would not let other people do his thinking for him, nor cut his thread to suit their stitches instead of his own, and consequently he was the best abused man of his day. Desiring that Don should sharpen his wits by rubbing them on Parker's whetstone, one Saturday afternoon he said to him: "If you and Bert will come to my church to-morrow morning, you shall sit with me, and after service 1 will intro- duce you to the greatest man in the United States." It so happened that the fame of this preacher had reached to Barrington itself, notwithstanding it was so far from ♦•!? a box of to Don ;ver went ive saved ns single Juld have to Don, concerts, circuses, ivariably iiade his the corn- were as irds of a I parish- !lebrated ever, be to this himself, hinking d of his his day. rubbing he said norrow I intro- ■eached jm t':; AIR GASTLB DON 111 maddening haunts of men — so remote from Boston, that nest of notions, and "hub of the universe." Even Peter Piper had heard so much about the man and his heresies that the barest mention of his name stirred all his pickled peppers to their profoundest depths. Don's father not only preached in favor of what he believed, but also against what he didn't believe, and with the oddest effect sometimes. For instance. He once denounced card playing with so much graphic detail that Don and one of his companions straightway bought a pack of cards and hiding themselves in a hay mow tried to solve the mystery of the iniquity hidden in the game. But so many compunctions interfered with their use of the forbidden fruit that, becoming afraid of the pasteboards they concealed them in the long grass growing at the foot of a headstone in the village graveyard. Here the sexton found them while digging a grave near by, and his horror was intensified by the knowledge of the fact that the man whose remains crumbled beneath the sod, was, during his mortal life, the latter part of it at least, a confirmed card- player. The sexton burned the pack to ashes and scattered the ashes to the wind. Don's father was informed of the find- ing, and as he was ignorant of the offenders, he aimed another columbiad of a sermon against the particular devils that went about in pasteboard suits and disguises. The denunciation of Theodre Parker from the village pul- pits made Don familiar with his name and his particular fame, and begot a strong desire to hear and see him. He scarcely knew what a heretic was, yet, having read Fox's Book of Martyrs when he was lying sick of the scarlet fever, he had the impression that heretics made good kindling wood for those who kept themselves warm by making it hot for others. When, therefore, the colonel invited him to hear Parker, 112 AIR GASTLB DON he was eager to improve his opportunity. The distance between him and his father's pulpit was equivalent to the con- cealment afforded by a barn and a mow of hay. He wanted to drop his lead into the sea of Parkerism for the sake of finding where the bottom was. The Maeonion congregation astonished him; it was immense, and was composed chiefly of young men. Parker astonished him also. He almost expected to see horns sur- mounting his high brow and peeping above his blue eyes from among the blonde hair that thickly covered his stately head. Although the speaker's voice was so richly melodious, and his words so glowingly eloquent and pervasively sympathetic, Don vigilantly watched for something wicked. He v/as fain to confess, however, that this devil, at least, had been painted blacker than he really was. His prayers were not alien to the Lord's Prayer, nor his sentiments, to the Sermon on the Mount. Yet notwithstanding the flash of glittering wings which took the place of diabolical horns, Don grew uneasy to ' 'link that he was getting in such an awful place as the Maeon- ion and listening to such an awful man as Parker was reputed to be. Being as good as his word the colonel introduced the two boys to his pastor and friend at the close of the service. And to the utter confusion of all of Don's preconceived notions and opinions of the man, Theodore Parker insistently invited the boys to visit his home for the purpose of enjoying a sight of his great library of rare works, and still more valuable collec- tion of curios and famous works of art. That invitation the boys subsequently accepted to their great satisfaction and profit. An immediate reckoning, however, followed upon their morning's misdemeanor. When they reached home, Nora, ■ 91 '.1 le distance the con- wanted sake of it was • Parker lorns sur- eyes from tely head, s, and his letic, Don s fain to n painted ien to the n on the rag wings uneasy to e Maeon- s reputed I the two ce. And tions and vited the sight of e collec- ition the ion and 5n their !, Nora, AIR OASTLB DON who had almost tearfully protested against the sin of going to hear such a heretic, met them with withering reproaches which, during their absence she had carefully and piously framed in exact scripti;ral phraseology for greater effect. Being an orthodox little soul, she believed that no one could come in contact with pitch • without being defiled. She felt convinced that the boys had been actually bathing in a sea of pitch and that, therefore, to use the words used concerning Noah's Ark, they were "pitched both within and without." Instead of being cast down by her onslaught, the boys began to praise the preaching of the man against whose influ- ence she had warned them with so much zeal. Not content with this, they declared that they would take her with them to the same place on the following Sunday and allow her to judge of the preaching for herself. She was so visibly agitated by this hardness of heart, which served to confirm her worst apprehensions, that Bert caught her in his arms and vainly attempted to kiss away her tears and her fears. The distress of the little saint was so unequivocally mani- fested that it aroused Don's conscience as effectually as it was aroused on the occasion of his first and — last game of cards. He could not, however, hide his tiansgression as easily as he hid the cards, and therefore he did the next best thing, he hid himself in his attic, where Bert soon joined him, glad to escape from Nora's accusing; eyes and tongue. "That sister of mine is a nuisance!" said Bert, although there was not enough annoyance revealed in his manner to give the proper emphasis to his words. "She would make a regular John the Baptist of me before I could say Jack Robin- son, if I would let her. I don't believe it's right for a mere gallon of a girl to be carting around a barrelfull of goodness. She's got it into her head that Parker is a Philistine of the m -■-| W Iistines — a though her heart is naturally as tender as a ripe peach, I beheve she'd pray Parker into his grave before to-morrow night if she could." "She is a brick, or rather what Saint Pau' would call a 'lively stone'," said Don, sharply, in her defense; "and if I were a man, and she were a woman, and I knew how to make love, I would ask her to marry me before I went to sleep." "Marry you!" exclaimed Bert, at the same time laughing at the blush that mantled Don's cheek at the mere mention of love. "Marry you! A precious team you would make; you, with your scruples of conscience, and she, with her piles of bigotry." A tap at the door interrupting further comment, Bert admitted Nora, remarking pertinently: "Mention the angels and you will hear the rustling of their wings." "That doesn't apply to me," she replied penitently, yet not daring to say the other half of the proverb lest the mentioning involved should provoke some fresh freak of mischief. She had Saturday's paper with her, and from it read a notice of a public meeting to be held in Faneuil Hall on Mon- day evening. Boston was in a ferment over city corruptions which were aided and indirectly abetted by the city fathers. The notice called for the friends of municipal righteousness to assemble in force for the voicing of their indignation. This little wisp of a woman — meaning Nora — had a penchant for righteous indignation of any kind, and glad to find something that would serve as a compromise between her and the boys, she smilingly said : "I will forgive you for going to the Mae- onion this morning if you will go to Faneuil Hall to-morrow night. I know that you will go, for the paper says that Alder- ■aa** naiai ilifil An i'ii»i«irii-i)tiiitr''i ? less. And, »e peach, I to-morrow culd call a "and if I 3w to make ) sleep." le laughing mention of make; you, ler piles of ment, Bert the angels Itly, yet not mentioning ief. 1 it read a ill on Mon- :orruptions ity fathers. :ousness to tion. This inchant for something i the boys, the Mae- to-morrow that Alder- TOWP' | l. i > ' W^." i ■w-^wn— ^ ' it ri'ii'Sf g I ► WW u ■ *, V Ht M ilff^!^ AIR CASTLE DON 115 man Lammels — the man you hate so much — declares that he will be on hand with a crowd to break up the meeting." Bert clapped his hands, saying: "Our forgiveness is already assured, for Don and I made up our minds last night that we would go to that meeting to see the fun." "The fun!" she exclaimed indignantly; "if that is all you go for you would better stay at home." "We are going for righteousness sake," said Don, more diplomatically. "That sounds better. You care more for the right than you do for the fun, while Bert is just the other way," she said, at the same time beaming her approval upon Don so warmly that he became roundly ashamed because his motives did not reach to the height of his words. Don had long desired to see the inside of the Cradle of Liberty, as Faneuil Hall is called, because of its connection with the exciting events of the nation's earliest history, and because in it were first heard so many of the inspiring senti- ments which subsequently became embodied in the nation's destiny. He now had an opportunity of seeing the hall when it was filled with a characteristic Boston public meeting. The fact that Colonel Wickworth was already named as the chair- man of the meeting increased the boys' interest in the proposed gathering. With an old soldier in the chair there would be little danger to be apprehended from rowdies on the floor. When Peter Faneuil gave the hall that bears his name to Boston, it was intended that the lower part should be used as a market for meats for the body, and the upper for meats for the mind. The two objects have never been lost sight of, and consequently the building, though large, is a two-storied piece of architecture so severely square and plain that nobody would ever think of going into ecstasies over it. 116 AIR CASTLE DON The interior is as plain as the exterior, with galleries extending around three sides, and supported by pillars that are more substantial than beautiful. The main floor provides only for standing room, although ascending tiers at the sides enable occupants to look over one anothers' heads. On entering the hall, jvhich was then about two-thirds full, Don immediately became interested in the numerous old por- traits hanging upon the wall in the rear of the platform. They said as plainly as paint and oil could make them say it: "Eternal vigilance is the price of liberty." When the colonel mounted the platform he saw the boys standing at the foot, and immediately ordered them to seats back of his chair, where they would be safe from the crush of the crowd which by this time had packed the hall to over- flowing. When Marshal Tukey, the speaker and hero of the evening, arose to speak, the tumult that greeted him indicated strongly and violently opposing forces. The speaker was a "character." Once a great gambler and a notoriously fast man, he had turned squarely from his evil ways and had so commended himself to the confidence of the public that he became the city marshal. Having been a great rogue himself, he was well versed in the art of catching rogues, as the police authorities of all the great cities well knew. But his zeal for rogue- catching outran the support of the city fathers who, while they admitted that law was designed for the suppression of crime, were not willing to assume the respon- sibility of executing it. Hence Tukey was discharged, and consequently righteous Boston — including many sinners — was up in arms, and Tukey was there in Faneuil Hall to inflame their righteousness to greater intensity by making hot revelations of official corruptions. :* 1^, ^lJ ■' V,^J,j, ' .^V »| J^,w^ l . | " ii jPjLJ.j i L j i J i .» i<<» jl , ii,ia iw m,.| ,H.l'i i ._ ,^^!ui.i^ ■ f m I II n. » I .IW I .. . . 1 . 1 n I I II us i M r,^ galleries s that are vkXts, only es enable birds full, 5 old por- in. They n say it: the boys 1 to seats : crush of to over- : evening, 1 strongly mbler and n his evil ice of the !n a great g rogues, ew. But the city ;d for the e respon- ged, and sinners — Hall to iking hot AIR OA«" Am 0A8TLHS DON •11^ grimly asked: "Well, my boy, how do you like our Boston School of Oratory?" "The oratory is all right, but isn't the price of tuition rather high?" was the reply. "Do you always have a fight when you hold meetings in Far.euil Hall?" "Not always; but we like to make a good job of it when liberty of speech is involved, just as we did last night. That was your first battle for freedom, and you deserve a shoulder strap— both you and Bert— for the way you lammed Lam- mels." And the colonel turned away chuckling deeply. £^ yi so madly Medusa or adopt the 1 as wear- a box of to Don's occasion- •om. She bout him :1. There ttle-tattle, ur in her d entirely ies of the !pt shelter wer deep, the men- ly way of id turned ■ matches iccurately ' n«P Am CASTLE DON mfimm' Speaking, they are like old rafi^s whicli manifest an inscrutable tendency to spontaneous combustion, and all the consequences connected therewith. From the vantage ground of her third story windows she commanded a full view of the Square; nor was she above observing, so far as she could, what was going on in the neigh- boring buildings. She was descended from Kvc, and why should she not indulge her curiosity, especially when she had so much spare time on hand? The widow's house was withiij range, and using her opera glass one Sunday she saw Don leaning over the edge of one of the front attic windows of the piemises. She saw him several times afterward in the same position, and therefore concluded that he boarded as an attic boarder. She did not intend to commit an Irish bull, yet she virtually said to herself: "The higher he goes the lower he gets." In one of her visits at the Wickworth counting room she made it her business to say: "Your Donalds boy cannot be of much account, for I have discovered that he lives in an attic." "I do not see how that can be, for I pay three dollars and a half a week for his board, and that amount ought to secure decent quarters for him," said the deacon, much surprised. "Then you are being deceived," said Miss Agincourt severely; "the widow certainly would not have the brass to charge him that amount. At our place those who occupy the attics are charged only three-quarter prices." When she left the counting room, to make her insinuations more effective, she cautioned her uncle against being imposed upon by an unprincipled stripling, and went her way flattering herself that she had done a very laudable stroke of business. The deacon's high regard for morals led him to lament the sad degeneracy of the modern boy; and his equally high ii 122 AIR OASTLB DON , tmi ri'j^arfl for liin own interests made him chuckle to think that he should he al)le to make a weekly saving on Don's hoard bill. On Saturday night he bluntly asked: "Don, what do you pay for hoard?" Don frankly said that he was paying two dollars and a half, and he supposed that, as a matter of course, his management of his finances would b»* seen in its true light and meet with the approval of his cmployti*. The boy was thunderstruck w'len the deacon coolly handed him two dollars and a half, at the same time saying that there- after only that amount would if allowed him for board, but his indignation was aroused when the deacon accused him of lying, and added insult to injury by reading him a long lecture on the evil and danger of falsehood. Don fearlessly defended himself and referred the deacon to the original conversation with Bert Williams by which the board question was settled without his having had any part in it, and he explained the plan of self denial and economy by which he had enabled him- self to keep himself in decent condition for the store. The more he defended himself the more firmly convinced the dea- con became of the total depravity of boys in general and of Don and Bert in particular. Colonel Wickworth easily understood the whole arrange- ment, and maintained that Don ought to be commended and not condemned, and that he ought to continue to receive the amount that had been allowed him. But there were Arabella's suspicions of deliberate con- sj iracy between the two boys, and the deacon referred to them as if they were facts sworn to and confirmed. The colonel, becoming impatient at the mention of his niece's connection with the affair, said: "I'o weight should be given to Arabella's guesses; she has nothing to do but to J AIR 0A8TLB DON P*" 128 mmmm imagine evil of mankind, and it in n piece of cruel impertin- ence for her to peddle her conjectures to you for facts." The elder WickwortH defended the niece, and the alterca- tion began to wax warm; the deacon whined and the colonel swore. But finally the deacon, shedding his meekness, as a snake sheds its overworn and lack-lustre skin, plainly inti- mated that if the colonel could not assent to his chief manage- ment of the firm's affairs, he might get out of it as soon as he pleased. ■ During the wrangle Don's indignation increased to a white heat, and at the first interval in the war .of words he faced the deacon squarely, saying: "I wouldn't remain in your employ for any consideration whatever." Suiting the action to the word, he left the counting room. "Do you really mean to leave?" asked the colonel, follow- ing him to the outer room. "Yes, sir," said Don firmly; "I am as good as called a liar and a thief by your brother, and I'd starve before I'd stay imder the same roof with such a defamer. But you have been very kind to me and I am sorry to be deprived of your watch- care and instruction." "I do not blame you for your decision; you could do no less," said the colonel. If at any time you want a friend, come to me without delay or hesitation." And as he shook hands with Don he gave him a crisp ten dollar bill out of his own private resources. Don felt as if the world had suddenly dropped from beneath his feet. He shut himself up in his attic, and, unmind- ful of the tea bell, sat like one in a dream. Bert entered to see why he did not go down. Don, too much humiliated to confide in his friend at that moment, pleaded lack of appetite, and was left alone. ' 'f It :;i 124 AIR GASTLtQ DON Don felt as if he had been stripped of his character, and if he had been stripped of his clothing and turned naked upon the street he could not have felt worse. His honor and ver- aci'cv had been as the apple of his eye, and hitherto they had never been assailed. His sensitive imagination became mor- bidly apprehensive, and he feared that the evil reputation fast- ened upon him by the deacon would follow lim in his attempts to find another situation in Boston. He thought of returning home, but on second thought, disdained the expedient as trea- son to his courage. He was quickly impulsive in formirtg plans, too much so for his own good, and he resolved forth- with upon what he would do. He had fourteen dollars and he would start for some city in the West and begin anew. No sooner was this plan formed than hope smiled upon him again, and he was in a measure prevented from inflaming his wound by thinking too intently of it. In the midst of his projects there was a tap at his door. Bert and Nora entered, and immediately began to prepare his little attic table with food and delicacies drawn from the best supplies the house afforded. Don protested against the trouble being taken on his account, yet, now that hope had reasserted itself, he availed himself of their kindness and ate the food with relish. "What is the matter with you? Has anything happened?" Bert anxiously asked, beginning to see that Don's trouble, whatever it was, was mental rather than physical. "I am adrift again," was the answer. Then in the midst of their exclamations, and in anticipation of their inquiries he told what had happened from the time of Miss Agincourt's appearance on the scene to his own disappearance from it. "The miserable old busybody!" exclaimed Nora, fixing upon Miss Agincourt the blame of the whole misfortune. "The hypocritical old punkinhead!" said Bert, laying all iiiiiii'iftri iiliitV'ftri •AmiikU. r^V'- ''"w^^'^,;.'::-' ter, and if iked upon r and ver- they had :ame mor- al ion fast- s attempts returning nt as trea- formirtg ved forth- ollars and new. No lim again, lis wound s projects tered, and i food and 'orded. :n on his le availed I. ippened?" s trouble, the midst juiries he jincourt's om it. •a, fixing une. ayiiig all .lilDUJIWH" AIR GASTLE DON 'ilM f iiyW'ln i . j i y. i ii < w*»i 9j» ! "p ! i' !i» U> i .i *| «> pl i 125 the blame upon the deacon. Then suddenly recollecting his own participation in the three dollar and a half arrangement he was overwhelmed with confusion and self accusations, and expressed himself accordingly, and assumed most of the blame. "It is all owing to my stupid blundering," he said remorse- fully, "and I will see the deacon the first thing in the morning and make explanations that will more than satisfy him." "It will be of no use," said Don, decidedly. "When a man dandles a suspicion as a woman does a baby, you might ar well try to rob a woman of her baby as to try to remove the suspicion from the man's mind. Besides, the deacon mounted his pious, white horse as if he had put on the whole armor of righteousness, and right or wrong, when a man gets up in that style, nothing short of a cannon shot can bring him down again." "I'll fire the shot that'll fetch him," Bert said quickly, con- fident in the justice of his cause. "You haven't got a g^in that's bfg enough for that. No explanations will avail with him. I gave him all that were needed. That whole transaction about the board bill was a fair and square transaction. Instead of calling me a deceiver and a liar, if he had had a soul in him big enough to put in the hollow of a hair, he would have commended me. And that is all there is to it. The colonel has a soul bigger than a steeple; he stood by me, and quarrelled with the deacon on my account, and gave me ten dollars out of his own pocket when I left the store. If he were at the head of the cor:ern, there would have been no fuss. As it is, nothing will induce me to go back there again." Bert saw that no praying to Don would remove the moun- tain, and he at once bethought himself of the next best measure of relief. "Well," he said, hopefully, "the colonel will recom- -.rc.*»-^v-'V-T ^«^:^.;,,7- -.^ ~ »^. ^^/^T'/'l^-'^V"'".'^"'!^-* 196 AIR OASTLB DON mend you from the crown of your head to the soles of your feet, and if people get wind of the real facts of the case they'll be feathers in your cap, and a fool's cap for the deacon. With the premature wisdom that is born of a too early experience of the harshness of the world, Don replied : "The colonel is my friend, yet, notwithstanding that, a blot has been put upon my name, and lies travel leagues before truth can put on its boots. 'A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches, and loving favor rather than silver and gold.' And I am going somewhere else to see if I can't recover what I have lost." "But you are making mountains out of molehills," oLjected Bert, practically, beginning to see that Don was over sensitive. "You haven't lost your good name, and, what is better, you have the satisfaction of knowing that you are in the right. It is that old blubber-belted whale that's in the wrong." "And if that old maid Agincourt were here," added Nora, "she'd get enough of my tongue to make her think she had been licked by Spanish flies." Then suddenly changing from her irate tones to her habitually persuasive voice, she said: "You won't leave us, will you?" "Of course he won't," Bert answered. "Do you suppose that he would turn his back upon all our Boston gods and notions and go where there are only scrub people atUi ujtions and no excitements worth noticing?" But Nora was not pleased with this reference to inf .tt' ac- tions of Boston; they excluded all recognition of her own. What she most desired to know at this moment was, whether or no Don would weigh her in the scales and find her of sufficient weight to decide him against leaving the city. She looked her thoughts so plainly, that Don, now that separation was decided upon, experienced pangs he had not felt before. fpypwyig w^ igw-iii.'.iyj p i ^gt'f .^■ ■ '.','".-M- '• ' J'JWVJ-I ' 1. P* ' * ' w ' !^if*f>^*n " i .i'^^ ' f^ ' w yr f.fj l^ es of your ase they'll on. too early ed: "The t has been th can put than great .' And I er what I " oLjected sensitive, etter, you the right. >ng." ded Nora, k she had ?ing from she said: I suppose gods and M iJjHons he iilt' ac- her own. , whether d her of ity. She :paration t before. AIB OASTLB DON 127 "You have been such a good little angel to me, Nora," he said, "that it will be very hard for me to go away from you." "But you won't go," she persisted. "Yes," he replied with the simple directness that befitted the fixity of his purpose. "Where are you going?" arked Bert, becoming thoroughly alarmed at the bare idea of losing his attic rhum and tried street companion. "Out West." "Out thunderation!" Bert gasped in desperation. "Out to Chicago, I suppose, to see the Indian and the buffalo, and*to prowl among the prairie dogs and wolves and rattle snakes. Out there! where people die by tornadoes and whirlwinds, or are frozen stiff by blizzards in the winter or are roasted to a crisp by a broiling sun in summer. There! where the men wear home-made trousers and the women have coal-scuttle bonnets, and where the school houses and churches are built of logs or mud, and Bibles, books and paintings are scarcer than hens' teeth. Go out there! where there isn't a solitary great man, nor so much as one famous woman, nor an idea that's big enough to cover the point of a pin, and where the best church members are worse than the worst sinners of the East, and Heaven is a million miles away, and the other place so close by that it crops out at the surface." And drawing partly from his prejudices against the West, and still more from his ignorance, and most of all, from the crude notions that so many Eastern people had of Western conditions, Bert said worse things than are here set down. It so happened that Barry, the artist mentioned in a former chapter, having been in Chicago, had given Don quite accurate accounts of the West in general, and of Chicago in particular, so that the country boy was far better acquainted with the now • 'I i- 4 'yiiii»*i rt< w » iiiMi > ^""^ asm, Don )t in view I hope in ssissippi." day after r mother, )on, who, nevitable, iaying by his after- g not to links that tily. He or home, or which n said to night be it twelve from his CHAPTER XHI. I.OOK BEFORE YOU LEAP. "I am disgusted with this shallow soil and barren surround- ings," said a small tree to itself. And it pulled itself up by the roots, and, using them for legs, trotted ofT to another location. The sum of its experience was that it would have done better to have remained where it was and devoted itself to growing instead of to grumbling. Don had made friends of the widow's family, and of Colonel Wickworth and Faiher Taylor as well, and this, too, by com- mending himself to them, as trustworthy and true. This was a beginning, and by remaining where he wa , he would have made other friends, and so, would gradually have grown in strength, and in the number of his opportunities also. In making so great a change for so small a cause, Don was throwing away his gains and incurring fresh risks. Little by little, or link by link, is the law of both progress and strength. We may run away from human nature in one place, but wherever we go we shall find a plenty of the same sort, and all the more certainly because we can never rid ourselves of ourselves. After paying his railway fare, Don had seven dollars left with which to face the world again. Besides the baggage contained in his small sealskin trunk he carried an excess of pride, of sensitiveness, of impulse, of self confidence and of variableness. Possibly some of this surplus stuff was packed ("9) :. ', ^^Hai^ *.-^' ■^' ISO iji .iii,pi i |ive himself en, but the :he outside AIB CABTLB DON 181 of his right leg. And as for his garments, besides being clot- ted and stained with blood, they were badly torn. Looking ruefully at his clothes by the aid of the lanterns of the two men, he said: "Judging from my clothes, I have had a pretty rough tumble. I think that I could stand up if I were to try hard, but I'd rather not attempt it, just yet." The men were neither thick-headed nor hard-hearted, and the one who had just spoken said: "Let us fix you a bit; there is no need of trying to stand just yet." And they gath- ered several old jackets and coats and stuffed them in around him as well as they could. Feeling faint, Don asked for a drink of water. One of the men brought his pail containing a night lunch, and gave him a drink of cold tea, which so revived Don that he began to stir himself a little. "Have a bite," said the kind-hearted fellow, removing the top compartment of the pail and revealing sandwiches and pie in the lower part. Don was hungry as well as thirsty, but protested against robbing the man of his food. "Oh, don't trouble yourself about that," was the hearty reply; "my mate Bob will share his pail with me if you can clean out this one." Having eaten, Don sat up, though not without pain. The man called Bob, who was waiting for a night freight to take his engine, said: "When we went to pick you up, we saw two fellows run away from you, and we thought that they had done you up for the sake of robbery. As it is, we are afraid that they have gone through your clothes. If you had any money with you, you had better see if you've got it now." Alarmed at this suggestion, Don searched his pockets in vain for his pocket book, which contained his money, his trunk check, his trunk key and his certificates of character. 1 f^yfr'WHf 132 AIR GASTLE DON I*t- "Possibly it may have been shaken out of you where you fell, and though there is small chance of finding it, we will go and search with our lanterns," said Bob, moved by Don's distress. But they returned as blank as they went, to Don's utter dis- may. Seeing that he was trembling from head to feet at this new disaster, the men made inquiries as to whence he came, who he was, and where he was going, and what for. They did what they could to allay his fears, and afforded him some slight comfort by telling him to stay where he was till morning. Hearing the whistle of his train in the distance, Bob and the other man, his temporary fireman, mounted the cab of his engine. Before his engine moved several men had gathered around Don, and Bob shouted to them as his engine began to move: "Say, you fellows, look after that wheelbarrow chap kindly ; he's no dead-beat. Give him this dollar for a send-off in the morning, and make it two or three if you can." As the engine went out the dollar fell upon the cinders, followed by a half dollar sent by the fireman to keep it company. The foreman of the roundhouse picked the money up and handed it to Don, adding another fifty cents supplemented by several dimes and quarters chipped in by the other men. Don felt like crying, but somehow the kindness of the apparently rough fellows heartened him so much that he said: "I guess I'm on the road to Jericho fast enough, but it's plain that I haven't fallen among thieves in this roundhouse, but among good Samaritans." One of the turntable men, ignorant of the Bible, supposing that Don referred to his destination, said: "The Boston and Albany don't go to no Jericho. You must have got on the wrong road." "I ^p . |% l ,» n* »iA'lr*r* vhere you we will go by Don's utter dis- eet at this he came, or. They him some t was till Bob and cab of his I gathered e began to rrow chap a send-off ." As the )llowed by y- ley up and mented by len. Don apparently "I guess lain that I mt among supposing oston and rot on the M AtR CA6TLR DON 1S3 "Oh, get out!" said another one; "don't you know enough to know that this lad is a sort of a Scripture fellow, and that he's talking Bible at us?" "How should I know?" was the reply; "this road gives us such a small chance to see the inside of a church or to know Sunday when it comes around that there's no more Bible for us than there is for the wind or for running water. But I can tell him that though he'll find no thieves among this gang of sinners, he'll find 'em thick enough outside of the roundhouse, and that's cos we're so near Albany and the State House." In the little intervals of time that the men had to them- selves, they washed the blood from Don's face and leg. And what was still better, as some of them kept needles, thread and buttons for personal emergencies, they sewed up the rents in his garments as best they could, and supplied the places of several buttons that were missing. Don's hat was among his losses, and its place was supplied by a soft hat which looked as though it had been run over by a lightning express. Observing that Don was scrutinizing the inside of the hat with some care, the man who gave it to him said with a hearty laugh: "You needn't look for any population there, my lad; it is Bob Flanger's hat, and he keeps a head on him that is cleaner than a peach-blossomj He's everlastingly soaking his head under the hydrant, and that's as fatal to head-tramps as the gallows is to them that's hung on it." "If I ever get rich I'll hang this hat in the best place in my library in remembrance of Bob and the rest of you," said Don gratefully, and withal relieved to know that it belonged to the sturdy engineer. "Rich!" exclaimed one of the men rather thoughtlessly; "if such a banged-up looking fellow as you ever gets to piling 134 AIR GA8TLB DON money into a bank, it'll be because creation has got turned 'totlier end foremost." "Oh, shut oflf your steam, Black!" impatiently exclaimed the man who brought the hat ; "can't you see that you are talk- ing to a respectable kid, and not to a young bummer?" "When will Bob, as you call him, come back?" Don asked, feeling a desire to see him again before he left the roundhouse. "There is no telling anything about that," replied Jake Cullum, the hat-man. "His turn is to Chicago and back, and when a man goes out of this roundhouse we are sure of nothing till his engine's nose comes puffing in again. 'Engin- eers don't most always die in their beds,' you know." And Jake used this bit of railroad slang with so much significance that his meaning v/as far more impressive than if it had been dressed up in a tailor-made suit. When Don began to grow sleepy the men put two wheel- barrows together and filling them with clean cotton waste, made him a bed that he could lie in with some comfort. Covering him with coats they left him to his slumbers, but at no time of the night was he lost sight of altogether. Every fresh gang of men that came in took an interest in the boy as soon as they were informed of his mishap and of Bob's care for him. The grim monsters of the road, fifteen or twenty in all, were alive with fire and steam, and incessantly and harshly noisy, but Nature held Don so closely to her breast that he slept soundly till dawn. His awaking, however, seemed like a hideous nightmare, and it was some time before his confused faculties could disentangle him from his illusion. Although still stiff and sore, he was able to move about, and after eating a sandwich given to him by one of the men, he took a look at himself in a piece of mirror that was fast- ened to the wall. His face being black and blue, and one eye (\ JG ■ ,T ff^ l ' AIB OASTLB DON 136 U almost closed, he could scarcely recognize himself. His first thought was to go over the river to Albany and get access to his clothing, but being without either check or key, he at once realized that the trunk might as well be in Boston for any good it might do him. "What shall I do about my trunk?" he asked of Jake Cullum, who still kept a kindly watch over him, "now that I have lost my check and key with my pocket book?" "Well, youngster, you've got me under a dead engine — pinned out of sight;" and Jake scratched his head in vain for a solution of the difficulty. Presently brightening, he said: "You of course know the contents of the trunk and can describe them to the baggage master; that may help you a little; but I guess I'll have to go over with you and swear that your story about jumping from the train and all that, is true. So, come along, for I have only an hour before my engine goes out." He was but a fireman, yet his heart was in the right place. Arriving at the baggage room, Don had no sooner stated his predicament than an underling of the room, glancing at his face and clothing, positively refused to take any further notice of him. It was in vain that the fireman backed up his claims as well as he knew how; he was not known to the bag- gageman, and the two were accused of being pals trying to play a transparent confidence game. Presently his majesty, the chief baggage master, made his appearance, and Don attempted an appeal to him, but the underling immediately made his own representation of the case and Don and Jake were told that if they did not leave the premises forthwith a policeman would be called. "You might as well run your head under a locomotive as to run afoul of a baggage man without your check," said Jake •I T^ ISA AIR OASTLB DON with a tall oath. "I can do no more for you, and must go back to the roundliouse. It's my opinion that they'll forget all about you in ten minutes, so that, if in half an hour, the fellows who stole your pocket book should come around with the check, they'll get the trunk without any questions being asked. Good by, and may the Lord have mercy on your soul while you're in this town." Jake spoke with the bitterness of the laboring man who instinctively feels that an unfortunate is a snowball rolling down an inclined plane adding to his misfortunes with every turn he makes. Don tried to obtain access to the higher ofHcials, whose offices were in the same building, but his bruised and tattered appearance was invincibly against him, and he might as well have attempted to board the moon with a view of going to some land where the truth is known by reading the heart direct. Beginning to suffer hunger, he a* nted to enter a restau- rant, but was no sooner seen than he ' 'lered into the street. He was similarly treated in several other places, which he tried one after another. Drifting down toward the river docks in a dazed condition, he approached a street stand kept by an old Irish woman. She saw so many battered specimens of human- ity every day that she took scant notice of Don's disordered person, although she made sure that the worth of his pur- chases dropped into her wrinkled palm before the purchases passed into his possession. 'When Jonah and his old sermons, after proving such an indigestible problem to the whale, were vomited up on dry land again, he must have presented a very disreputable appear- ance. And the question is, how did he manage to work him- self back into respectable society? But we came near forget- ting that Jonah, though coming from a sea of trouble in his / . vii^j-nwfl'.'l'JB* i l'J ' Mwfci mm' Ain OASTLB DON m half (iigested suit of clothes, was far superior to the rich sinners of Ninevah who were clothed in fine linen and fared sumptu- ously every day. And it is not far to say that even in this day of multi-niillionaires some who arc looked down upon because of the inferior appearance they make are infinitely superior to some who arc looked up to because of their wealtli and liveried turnouts. All that day — a long, long day — Don, so far as his thoughts and his experiences were concerned, like the early martyrs, "wandered in deserts, and in mountains, and in dens and in caves of the earth." When he was again refused lodging- house shelter as night came on, he felt as lonely and as much abandoned of God and man as if he were cast into the midst of the Sahara desert with only the lio.is for companions. Exhausted by his wanderings, with every bruise shooting flames of pain, and very thought racking him more than his bruises, he went up State street toward the center of the city. Here the Capitol building — not the twenty-five million one that now crowns the capitoline hill — but the old one — attracted his attention. He ascended the steps and took shelter among the shadows of the portico, where, overcome, he sat down to rest in the obscurest corner he could find. Presently he lay prone upon the flagging and fell into a troubled slumber which lasted till the morning. -*■#■ ■ 1 ^ -• "^^1 "■« ■'1 _ ' .*' t i 1 * i ■^m-'^'^sifvmmm^BiiHam m»»ss0mMimi^ CHAPTER XIV. HOW A CITY BBCOMBS A THORN BUSH. To the wretched and unfortunate one day is as like to another as one thorn is like all others that grow upon tlv" same bush. And in the nature of the case, although a city may be the best of cities as cities go, to the unfortunate it is a hedge of thorns through which it is impossible to pass without being wounded at almost every step. Albany is as near Heaven as any other American city to such as have the means and dis- position to avail themselves of its great advantages, but on the other hand it is just as near to Tophet as any other city to such as have fallen beneath the wheels of fate. Although Albany is beautiful for situation and the joy of many people, it became a mortal terror to Don. While the contributions of the roundhouse philanthropists lasted he could appease his hunger by dining cheaply and unmolested at the apple stands, after washing himself in the free and friendly waters of the Hudson. But when he went the rounds seeking employment his appearance was so much against him, he was not merely the subject of simple negatives, but the victim of positive scorn and cruelty as well. The constant dropping of water will wear away a stone, and the constant dripping of unkindness wore deep channels through Don's grit and reso- lution. Many a soul has been undermined for time and for eternity by such experiences as he passed through, and many (138) w wriO-":"- I . 'iitm i' wv . i .otf i n ti im *! ' .mijrui i .! „^^ AIR GA8TLB DON IW a crime owes its origin to the dogged sullenness which has been begotten between the upper and nether millstones of dire necessity. Some who shine in society would have reached the gallows by the road in which Don found himself, just as some who are in the pit and the miry clay may find themselves in honorable eminence if but a ladder is put down for their assistance. * The light of day brought little comfort to Don, but the nights were times of terror to him. It might have been writ- ten of him as it was written of Abraham at a crucial period of his life: "And lo, an horror of great darkness fell upon him." For Abraham's darkness there was the mitigation of a smoking furnace and a burning lamp. For Don there was apparently nothing — but darkness piled on darkness when the sun went down. Don knew what camping out meant. With a blanket between him and the soft moss, and a campfire burning at his feet a-night in the woods far from the haunts of men was a delight. The picturesque underbrush of the forest ; the stream purling over the rocks; the high pines singing music- ally overhead; the twitter of the wild bird; the barking of the squirrel ; the answering echo of the fox ; or the defiant hoot of the owl; all these but gave zest to the pleasure of camping out in the wilderness. Slumber came like soft-footed peace among such scenes as these; and if the fairy webs of dreams were woven through the corridors of the brain they were the webs of the beautiful wonderland. But this camping out in a city was another thing. While the gas-lights fiickered fitfully, and the sounds of footsteps diminished and the roll of carriages well nigh ceased alto- gether, Don moved about like a lost spirit seeking rest and finding none. He took furtive glances at shadowed recesses 140 Alll CASTLE DOM and dark holes in quest of some spot that would be likely to escape the watchman's eye. When such a place was discov- ered it required no small degree of strategy to get into it without being observed. Once in, the rats were sure to dis- pute the occupation with the newcomer. Or a homeless dog, seeking the same place, would snif? at the occupant, and find- ing that he was only a fellow unfortunate, would quietly settle down beside him and with timely growls or ominous snaps, keep the rats from becoming too familiar or intrusive. One night Don took refuge in the dark portico of one of the largest and oldest church buildings in the city. While lying there, with his head resting upon one arm for a pillow, he recalled the words which he had heard so often at home: "Let not your hearts be troubled; ye believe in God; believe also in me. In my Father's house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, ye may be also." The words were like a strain of distant music hov- ering soft and sweet upon the air; but instead of coming nearer and nearer, it receded farther and farther away. Don was troubled; there was no question as to that, for the tears were raining wormwood drops upon his sleeve. Nor could he help being troubled ; the waves had gone over him, and the sound of many waters put far from him any consolation he might have, under other circumstances, found in the text. Why did not the Recording Angel whisper in his ear that, one day he should stand in the pulpit of that same church and preach from that same text with a pertinency and power that would carry the great audience with him from the first to the last words of the sermon. Perhaps he understood that Ear Gate was in a measure barricaded from within to all messages «.^_, iIbJum* v'inmiilim'Mtvuit t i k.ir" i in -«« ■TWWyjjyMWI yn III I AIR GASTLE DON 141 ^ of hope. Perhaps the Angel was too busy recording the vices and the virtues of humanity — too busy trying to reconcile the discrepancies of the balance sheet to notice how sadly in need of encouragement Don stood. Perhaps the Angel's work was so exclusively historical that he had not attained the gift of prophecy. Probably, in any event, it was better under the circumstances that the lad should see through a glass darkly, for a too dazzling light is totally blinding to eyes that are not strong. When the day broke and while Don was cautiously making his way down to the street for another day's start in the world, his eyes happened upon the tin directory of the church. Among the things he saw on the directory were the name and the address of the pastor, "The Rev. John Paul Lovejoy." That was a name to conjure with, and he determined to seek the owner of it before another night came. "Possibly," he thought to himself, "The Rev. John Paul Lovejoy may be able to tell me what to do ; or he may put me in the way of getting work. I know that I am a hard looking customer, but a min- ister ought to know that bad appearances may sometimes be just as deceitful as good appearances." Inspired by hope, he breakfasted on a sandwich and then went down to the river to make his toilet preparatory to his important call. It never occurred to him that the forenoon might be an unpropitious time for calling on a minister. So far as the habits of his own father were concerned, there was no distinction in times. The village minister's rule was — "The man who wants to see me is the man I am placed here to see." Don went to the residence of The Rev. John Paul Lovejoy and rang the bell boldly. A tidy German girl anSVvered, but the moment she saw him she made an almost involuntary movement to close the door in his face. A second glance at 142 AIB 0A8TLB DON / the caller arrested her movement, and she inquired his busi- ness, after noticing that the lad was moistening his lips ""if trying to find his words. "I am in great trouble and want to see the minister, if you please," he at length managed to say with simple directness. "The dominie is in his study busy with his sermon, and his order is that he is not to be disturbed in the forenoon unless it is absolutely necessary." And the girl spoke her lesson as one who had learned it well enough to be in little danger of forgetting it. "It is necessary for me to see him," said Don, thinking only of his own urgent side of the case. Something in the caller's manner and tone appealed to both the respect and sympathy of the girl, and she said without further hesitation: "If you will wait, I will go and see what he says, though I am afraid that he will be displeased. The dominie is quite particular." "The dominie! Why does she call him that?" said Don to himself while waiting outside the closed door. He had never heard the word used except as a Latin title for The Lord, and it struck him as being little less than blasphemous to apply it to a minister. While he was musing the minister himself came to the door with pen in hand and the ink still wet upon its point. He stood in velvet slippers, had on a long silk dressing gown, wore spotless linen, a wide white choker, and gold-rimmed eye glasses, and altogether, presented an appear- ance of dignity which might have made one who was extremely ignorant of heavenly things believe that he was the I ord himself. As soen as The Rev. John Paul Lovejoy cast eye upon Don, he frowned ominously, and curtly asked: "Your business?" ( -MM*) i. his busi- ips "s if r, if you rectness. ion, and in unless esson as inger of hinking to both without ee what The lid Don He had e Lord, o apply himself ;t upon ng silk er, and ippear- remely : lord i upon "Your '-'i-n'W.iiin' ii S i^Airilii^g'i I AIIl OABTLB DON 148 "I am in trouble," Don began. "Oh, yes — of course," the minister interrupted tartly ; "the unfortunate are as plentiful as paving stones. I have no time to listen to you; but here is a dime." Don put his hands behind him and drew back, saying: "I did not come for money, but for advice." Before the words were fully spoken, the minister turned and closed the door with an emphatic bang. After blistering the serving girl for calling him down to see such a beggar, he returned to the sermon which he was to preach before The City Charitable Society from the text: "And now, abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity." The Rev. John Paul Lovejoy, D. D., was an able, popular preacher and much sought after for great occasions. In his sermon he intended to magnify corporate charity, and to dep- recate private alms-giving as the bane of modern ?ciety. He was so intent upon this that he left no private path in which one might walk as a messenger of God to the poor and needy. His opinions were graded more from the door view of annoy- ance from necessitous cases, than from the view of God, the pitiful Father of both the rich and the poor. Yet he was not without his benevolent moments, for his somewhat bold signa- ture fig^tred largely in the advertisements of men who manu- factured cures for corns, indigestion, flatulency, colic, minister- ial hysterics, loss of brain power and other ills "too numerous to mention." Freely he had received and freely he had given — of the influence of his illustrious name to help the benevol- ent patent medicine venders to the rewards they so eminently deserved. Over his study door hung the motto — ^the words of J. Martineau: "To get good, is animal; to do good, is human ; to be good, is divine." When Don went down the parsonage steps he felt as 43 ■i .1 -1 Wi :t«l eij^TT 144 AIR OASTLB DON f N though his heart had descended to zero. "The slippered, sleek, begowned old pharisee," he said to himself, "he ought to go over to the Greenbush roundhouse and take a few lessons in Christianity from the engineers, firemen and- turntable men I Could he not afTord to give me ten words of kindness? Ten cents! That's about the size of The Reverend John Paul Lovejoy, D. D. Thank Heaven, my father was not cut out of the goods that fellow is made of," He remembered the evening that he and Bert spent in Theodore Parker's study by special invitation. And he remembered that while they were there, several unfortunate people were admitted to the study, and that instead of being brushed aside like vermin, they were treated as though they were angels in disguise. The monster of heresy exemplified the beauties of charity, and the paragon of orthodoxy illus- trated the ugliness of suspicion. Don was almost ready to become a heretic again. But as heresy is fanned to its highest by opposition and as there was no one to oppose him, he let his thoughts run in the grooves that had been channeled out by the forefathers. His thoughts were diverted from the blank reception he had experienced by a discovery which was far more aggravat- ing than the contempt he had been made the subject of at the hands of a "dominie." . ^• In passing up one of the by streets he stopped to look into the show window of a pawn broker's shop. The first objects that his eyes rested upon were his nine books, his Bible, his flute and the very garments he so much needed to improve his appearance while making the rounds in search of work. The thieves who robbed him while he lay unconscious on the rail- road track had used the check for the trunk, and had then juiili"*^'* AIR CASTLE DON 145 ippered, c ought lessons le menl s? Ten n Paul ut out of spent in And he ortunate of being igh they emplified )xy illus- ready to :s highest m, he let neled out jption he iggravat- of at the look into 3t objects Bible, his prove his rk. The I the rail- had then disposed of the contents to the Jew, who now had them ticketed for sale. Without thinking of the difficulty in the way of regaining his things, Don hastened into the shop and demanded to know how they came into the possession of the Jew. "It ish none of your pizzness," was the defiant reply, given after the Jew had surveyed Don from head to feet. "It is my business; they were stolen from me," said Don, angrily. "You vas get out of this, or I vill put you out," threatened the Jew, advancing upon him as if to lay hands upon him. Seeing that he had made a mistake in his approaches, Don left the shop, and although he thought he had little to hope for from a policeman, he spoke to one who was passing and informed him of his discovery, and the circumstances leading to the loss of the trunk. Impressed by the straightforward account given, the officer turned back and went with him to the Jew's window. But the Jew had seen Don conversing with the officer, and, surmising his purpose, he gave orders to have the things removed and concealed. Don was confounded by their dis- appearance. The officer, who was well acquainted with the tricks of this branch of business, said: "You should have come to me first; he has taken advantage of the warning you gave to put your things out of sight. Nothing but a search warrant would be available now, and even that might fail. Besides, in a case like this, no law can be set in motion without money, and I judge from your appearance and from your story that you have nothing to throw away on law officers and methods." "No, indeed; I see that I can do nothing," said Don despairingly. ■ ": -^'^ J . "•*' '< ■ ^ Wc ■i"*r-i' Trpf . ^m^- m 146 AIR OASTLE DON The officer left him to battle with this new misfortune and disappointment as best he miglit. As he stood in front of the window aimless and miserable, the Jew came out and with a malicious leer said: "If you vas see something you like, I schall sell it to you cheap as dirt, you vas so very smart." His victim moved on, feeling as though he had been stung by an adder, while the Jew, after watching him a moment, went inside and made merry at the clever way in which he had out- witted both the officer and the boy. But a grim spirit of endurance was developing in Don. He remembered seeing the trees of the forest bending beneath the accumulations of repeated snow storms, and then resuming their native erectness when the load melted away, and he thought to himself: "In spite of these things, I'll not break yet awhile." On Sunday he went into the humblest church edifice he could find in the hope of picking some crumb of comfort from the services. An usher met him as he entered, but instead of conducting him to a pew, he placed a chair for him against the back wall of the audience room. Don bowed his thanks with the formality of Chesterfield, and smiled in spite of the insult. The usher saw him smile, and, taking it as a proof of depravity, regretted that he had not directed the unwelcome visitor to go away till his bruised face looked less pugilistic and his clothes less like the rags of a vagabond. The elephant is a gigantic beast, yet it is thrown into mortal terror at the sight of a mouse; society is a mighty creature, yet the too near approach of a soul that is not clothed according to the fashion plates throws it into spasms. The minister, an aged gentle-looking man, won Don's heart, and for a moment he wished that he could unburden himself to him. His experience with The Reverend John Paul rtune and ont of the nd with a ou like, I mart." teen stung nent, went e had out- S in Don. ig beneath I resuming y, and he not break Allt OASTLE nON 147 L«vejoy, D. D., alias The Rev. Theophilus Thistle, the thistle sifter, came to mind with such depressing force, that he repressed the desire, and although the service was as balm to his wounds, he went out determined to bear his own burden until such time as God himself should see fit to cut the bands which bound it to his back. - edifice he mfort from : instead of against the hanks with the insult. f depravity, isitor to go his clothes a gigantic sight of a r approach bion plates • - CHAPTKR XV. «» SPIRITS IN PRISON. ■ That night Don slept under a liedge in the public park. In the morning he put himself upon an allowance of one sand- wich a day ; half of it to be eaten for breakfast and the other half for dinner and supper, for the roundhouse fund was reduced to thirty-six cents. "What shall I do when niy money is gone?" Don asked the question with fear and trembling. And this very question is daily asked by tens of thousands with feelings bordering on agony and despair. The inability to ignore a dread uncer- tainty is the foimtain head of much of the bitterness that wells up from tho heart of humanity. Wrong itself is oftentimes but the outburst of tlic sufF'. i ing produced by this uncertainty. By ten o'clock liie clouds with which the day began poured i'own floodj which carried the filth of the city in roaring strrams into the Hudson river. The rain continued the rest c. he day ; . Nor brought too long a day, .: . But now I often wish the night ' Had borne my breath away!" ' ' • ' - 160 AIR OASTLB DON Continuing through the second and third verses without faltering, the singer followed with the fourth: "I remember, I remember The fir trees dark and high; I used to think their slender top4 Were close against the sky; It was a childish ignorance, But now 'tis little joy To know I'm further off from Heaven Than when I was a boy." During the singing there were no interruptions; at the close someone was sobbing. During the remainder of the night there was an unbroken silence, save when fitful dreams wrung from ruined souls fragmentary revelation of passion, crime and remorse. The words of the song sent Don's thoughts bounding homeward, but he was greatly solaced to know that he was not in prison for crime or any fault of his own, and for the first time in his life he realized that a good conscience is better than a great fortune. In the morning, in company with the other prisoners, he was marched to the police court to be arraigned before the police judge. Rapid as was the disposal of the pnsoners, the judge was a man of keen discernment and impartial justice. After a few preliminary questions to Don, he silenced the accusing policeman, ignored the record of the blotter, and pursuing his examination elicited from the victim of circum- stances a brief and transparent account of his misfortune. "You are honorably discharged," he said at the close; and then with great kindness, added: "I am sorry for you, my lad, and I advise you to employ all your energy in getting back to your home and friends. Vou are far too young to attempt to face the world alone." ■1 mmm '.'■';?!» VS'.M'Kf'JB**'"'^ -sr^fjvn m ,m y 'j f .H ' g '* - '* """^•"T: ^^^ es without >ns; at the der of the tful dreams of passion, sent Don's solaced to fault of his hat a good ■isoners, he before the isoners, the tial justice, ilenced the »lotter, and of circum- >rtune. close; and )r you, my in getting > young to Ain 0A8TLB. DON 161 The next case, and the last on the docket, was a stranded actor, who proved to be the man who sung Hood's words. He had been taken in in precisely the same way that Don was, and was discharged by the judge without hesitation. The two passed out together, and had no sooner reached the outside of the station than the actor, touching Don on the shoulder, assumed a tragic air and recited the words of Hamlet: "To be, or not to be — that is the question— Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. Or to take arms a.rainst a sea of troubles, And by opposing end them? To die— to sleep- No more ; and by a sleep, to say we end The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to — 'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wished." "Don Donalds," he continued in 'the same farcically tragic manner, "we have breakfasted on prison fare; now whither shall we go to dine and wine? But I forgot; methinks our purses are but filled with empty air, if purses we possess, and empty air is only fit for disembodied spirits, whose unsubstan- tial pulp makes teeth and stomach superfluous encumbrances." Taking Don by the hand he shook it gravely, adding : "Fare- well to you where e'er you go. And, alas! a long farewell to ail my greatness, for I no revenue have, but my good spirits to feed and clothe me. I'm but a pipe for Fortune's finger to sound what stop she pleases." The eccentric and unfortunate actor had so much theatrical bric-a-brac stowed away in his brain that common sense could not find even standing room. But the pathetic wail he sung on that eventful night in prison, and the spell of good it cast upon the occupants of the cells, Don could never forget to his dying day. As soon as he was well clear of the actor he turned - — vi-isaMsi&aBScsasij.s-'— ;^ *wfeii III 'I fi I'mtil'^lli AIR OASTLE DON his footsteps toward the river determined to act upon the advice of the kindhearted judge so far as he could. To leave Albany and to return to Boston was now his all absorbing aim. He started along the railway leading from Greenbush with three sandwiches and a few cents in his pocket. The pure, sweet free air of the country was an inspiration to him. At noon he dined on a sandwich and a fresh turnip which he found by the roadside. At intervals during the day he met tramps who, at that season of the year infested the entire length of the Boston and Albany Railroad. Few passed him without attempting to enter into conversation. Most of them were dangerous looking men. Now and then he came upon boys who appeared to be younger than himself. He became disquieted with the thought that he was hovering dangerously near the borders of tramp life, that bottomless pit over which is written: "Abandon all hope, ye who enter here." By dark he was in sight of the lights of Pittsfieid, and being footsore and weary, he began to look for something that would serve as a shelter for the night. A lone haystack in a secluded field looked invitingly attractive and he burrowed into the side that was farthest from the railroad, and there, congratulating himself upon his surroundings as contrasted with those of the prison of the previous night, he fell into a peaceful sleep. He had not been long asleep when he was awakened by the voices of two tramps who were taking their lodgings in the opposite side of the stack, and making the air smell rank to Heaven with the offense of the rankest kind of tobacco smoke. As they soon became quiet, and were evidently unsuspicious of his own presence he again composed himself for slumber. This time he dreamed of hell and with such a vivid sense of actual flames of torment that he awoke in terror. The stack was a mass of flames and at the instant of his escape toppled ihJJfcBh.) ,„■» .«. AIR CASTLE DON f./t -^" " W ' - im upon the To leave bing aim. )ush with The pure, lim. At which he y he met he entire issed him It of them ime upon e became ngerously ver which and being hat would a secluded :o the side ratulating ose of the sleep, led by the igs in the 11 rank to CO smoke, suspicious • slumber. 1 sense of The stack »e toppled over on the side occupied by the tramps whose pipes were evidently responsible for the disaster. He could find no trace of the men and never knew whether they escaped or were incinerated in the flames. The red dawn was breaking in the East and he resumed his journey on the road, and happily escaped being called to answer for the destruction of the stack. The sun was just ris- ing when he entered Pittsfield. As he was walking among the freight trains assembled on the network of tracks belonging to the freight yard, and was in the act of passing a locomotive he was amazed, yet inexpressibly pleased to hear someone in the cab say: "Hello, Don Donalds! Where in time did you come from? Have you turned tramp?" And almost before he could recover from his astonishment, honest Jake Cullum of the roundhouse in Greenbush was shaking him by the hand and poring out a mixed volley of exclamations and questions. The engineer was also one of the roundhouse saints, and leaning from his cab he hailed Don as cordially and with as much interest as his fireman had done. "Your eye is getting better," he said, "and your cheek will be all right as soon as the scab comes oflf, but your duds seem to be losing what your skin has gained, though Bob Flanger's hat sticks to you like a true friend. What have you been doing since you left us?" i.y this time the conductor of the freight came near, and as Don, in answer to questions,j.''related his experience," several other men who, besides Jake's train, were waiting for a belated passenger train, gathered around and listened to what was going on. Don was so elated at the idea of being among friends again that he gave quite a humorous twist to his account of his sorrows. Nevertheless more than one eye was dimmed by .mM 1. 1 ■■:..■-,. J -'Auiai ' f 154 AIR 0A8TLB DON moisture, and several strong expletives dropped from the lips of the men in expression of the sympathy they felt. "If I had the handling of some of thdse Albany chaps," said Jake, "I'd make them drink tar for a week and then throw them into the firebox of my engine for fuel." "Going to Boston, are you?" asked the conductor, and on Don's answering in the affirmative, he added: "But don'f you know that in attempting to walk that distance you place your- self in danger of becoming a regular member of the tramp brigade?" "Let's give him a jog on our train," said Jake eagerly; "I know it's against the rules and all that sort of thing, but so many rules have been broken for the crushing of the boy, it's high time that some were broken for the sake of saving him. It takes a tough one to walk from here to Boston, and he'd starve to death or die in his tracks before he got over half the distance." "I guess we can fix it," said the conductor. "And like enough lose your situation for your pains, for just now the spotters of the company are keeping a sharp eye upon us," remarked a cautious yardman who, while he was as much concerned for Don as any of them, did not wish to see the conductor compromise himself by carrying a passenger without authority. "Put him in a box car, and carry him as far as Worcester, the end of our run," suggested Jake. "That's talking United States!" exclaimed a brakeman; "it can be done as easy as swearing," "No," interrupted Don, decidedly. "I'm going to Boston honestly, or not at all. No rules shall be broken on my account. It would not only place me in the wrong by making a railway sneak of me, but it would place everyone on the '!T7 .^y*--.^i-; ■Aiks&!a || "!*!•>•.■■■■■ 156 AIR CASTLE r>ON r "We forgot the collection, and that's enough to knock the bottom out of all our preaching." "Well, I'll be darned!" sighed the fireman, aghast at the omission. "That's as bad as sending a ship to sea without any provision. But look here! It isn't too late yet." "Yes, it is. There's number five now, and she'll pull out before we can get down to the station." > "That won't make any difference if we're in earnest. Let's make up two dollars and telegraph next station to give it to him, and we'll pay as we go through." "You are level headed Jake, sure." ' ■ So the amount was made up. and the conductor again called into use, wired : "Find boy in second class, number five, with bruised eye and cheek and give him two dollars. Will refund as we come along. His name is Don Donalds." When number five stopped at next station, Don was alarmed as well as amazed, when a man, who was evidently in a hurry, confronted him with the question: "Is your name Don Donalds?" On receiving confirmation of his conjecture, he gave Don the telegram to read, and without further ceremony handed him two dollars, and hurried away, for the train was already beginning to move. With the telegram and money in hand, it did not take Don long to unfathom the mystery. His money was all gone with the exception of ten cents, and the two dollars dissipated a new cloud of anxiety that was beginning to settle upon him. "God bless them," he said. "They don'i wear velvet slip- pers, silk dressing gowns and white chokers, like The Rever- end John Paul Lovejoy, D. D., but they are solid gold while he is only gilt-brass." ^ii ■^aatli^iteitamsmtllm ■ '.V: CHAPTER XVI. A PBRPLBXBD PAMILT. "It is fourteen days since Don left us," said Bert to his mother in the presence of Nora, "and I haven't had a word from him yet. He promised to write to me the first day after his arrival in Albany, and I supposed that his promise was as good as a fact. I never was more disappointed in a fellow in iny life. It is a shabby way to treat one's best friend." "You are not his best friend if you begin to think mean things about him," Nora replied with a good deal of earnest- ness. "There must be some reason for his silence, and you ought to wait before you condemn him." The little mother sided with Nora; she was getting anxious about Don, but she had kept her thoughts to herself. Now, she involuntarily expressed herself by saying: "I hope nothing serious has happened to him; he certainly would have written you had it been possible for him to do so." At the bare thought of harm to his attic chum Bert's loy- alty reasserted itself, and he said: "I am shabby myself to suspect him of being shabby. He is high spirited and proud, and it is more than likely that, failing to find anything to do, he has run short of money and has put off writing until he could give a good account of himself." "ShOi*^ of money, and in a strange city!" exclaimed Nora, (157) i Mi- M«f-l-^^i.taStu rilriTl A; iiiiiiiii-f V liir'iiiii-'iltiif''' 158 AIR OASTLK DON horrified by the thought. "What will he do? What can he do without money?" "If he is short of money, that's all the more reason why be should have written. I have five dollars that he might have just as well as not," said Bert. "And I have sixty-five cents that could be added to it," said Nora. "Can't we send it to him without waiting to hear from him?" "We haven't his address," Bert replied, "and besides, for aught we know, he may have started for that horrid Chicago and gone to work gathering prairie dogs and rattles from the rattle snakes to bring back to us. He is a great fellow for the country and country curiosities, you know." And Bert spoke without the sign of a smile. "You are just awful to make light of such a serious thing!" said Nora quite angrily. "Let us wait a few days," the widow suggested soothingly. "We may hear good news from him yet." But Nora was not to be pacified. For the first time in her life the thought of being without money had come to her in all its dread significance, and she kept asking: "What can he do without money?" Getting no satisfactory answer, she went to her room and throwing herself upon the bed, she sobbed till both her tears and her apprehensions were exhausted. On Saturday afternoons she was in the habit of taking pro- tracted airings on the Common. Miss Arabella Belinda Agin- court was in the habit of doing the same thing. Each one preferred the Beacon Mall, where the noblest elms swayed their branches in umbrageous glory, and the nobbiest people displayed their attire in all its gay diversity, whilst the repre- sentatives of the common people mixed among them, or sat upon the seats of the mall to watch and to make their demo- 'n It^iimSmaSmSm ^^gc^ :=£±-±±:i--^,i:i£^ r ^r'i^.'^t h^^t.S'* AIU OABTLB DON 109 cratic comments upon the pageantry of fashion and the grandeur of uplifted noses. The day following the family council about Don was Sat- urday, and Nora went out to take her usual afternoon prom- enade among the elect or elite, the two words amounting to the same thing in the mental eye of the world. She had but just reached the favorite mall when she met Miss Agincourt face to face, and remembering the part she had played as Don's evil genius, Nora gave her a succession of glances that were eloquently contemptuous and vindictive. Being arrayed and powdered to the fullest extent of her resources, Miss Agincourt looked down upon the little, plainly dressed girl with pitying complacency. Seeing that the old maid was not annihilated by her withering eye-volleys, Nora turned and followed behind her and took her full measure of vengeance by making malicious comments to herself upon the attire of Don's enemy. Not content with this, she mimicked her min«.!n«; gait to such an extent that those near watched the artful pantomime with great amusement, and in some instances with open laughter. It was surely a very unbecoming piece of conduct for a little saint who could quote Scripture so con- tinuously and appropriately, and all the more unbecoming, because the victim of this spontaneous malice was unaware of what was going on behind her. Suddenly Nora uttered a suppressed cry of pain and imme- diately started for home, where she arrived pale, and panting from the effects of her haste. Miss Agincourt just as suddenly changed her course and made her way directly to the counting room of Wickworth & Co., into which she had no sooner entered than she said to the colonel, who happened to be alone: "That Donalds boy has turned out just as I expected. He didn't leave the city as you supposed. I have just seen him ■1 160 Ain CASTLE DON sitting on one of the seats of Beacon Mall, and a more hard- ened and disreputable looking boy I have never seen." "You must be mistaken," said the colonel severely, for he had not forgiven his relative's interference in Don's case, "lie certainly left the city for Albany." "I am not mistaken," she replied, meeting her uncle's severe gaze with a touch of defiance. "Notwithstanding his dreadful hat and clothes and a big scab on his cheek, I recognized him as certainly as I now recognize you. He looked as dissipated as if he had been bumming about the city ever since he left the store. And he recognized me, for the moment his eye met mine, he jumped up irom the seat and fairly ran away. He lied to you about leaving the city, just as he lied to you about his board bill." "IT' Id the truth about his board bill; and I happen to K.ow by the testimony of Bert \Villian>s, who saw him board the Albany train, that he ])urchascd a ticket for Albany with part of the money that I gave him when he left us. That boy is no liar, and if you have seen him, as you say you have, he has been unfortunate. And instead of following him up with your unfounded suspicions, you should have accused yourself as being in part responsible for his misfortune, and should have spoken to him and tried to put yourself in the way of making some reparation for the serious injury you did him. It is no small crime to In instrumental in casting a cloud upon an innocent boy's future. I shall Ik uneasy about him until I hear more of him, and if I had any clue to him I should try to find him. I have been worrying about him ever since he left here, for the more I have thought about him, the more I have been convinced of his worth and of the harm that has come to him through your impertinent meddling with things that did not concern you." As usual with the colonel when he became ^ AIR OASTLB DON m indignant enougli to use the wtiip, tlie sting was in the end of the lash. Miss Aginrourt, growing red in the face, said: "If the deacon were here, he'd protect me from your insults." "I mean no insult, but if he were here I'd say the same things, and possibly, if he joined with you, I should say harsher things than I have already uttered." Miss Agincourt hurried away in no amiable temper, and she had no sooner closed the door behind her than the colonel gave vent to his annoyance by using some hot Mexican War expressions, which might burn through the paper if they were put down in black and white. When Nora reached home she was so excited she could scarcely control herself: "Oh, mother," she began, "I have seen Don, and such a wretched sight as he was, was enough to break one's heart." "Control yourself, my dear; you certainly must be mis- taken," said the little mother, alarmed at her child's agitation, and no less so at what she said. "Oh, mother, I did see him! And that hateful Agincourt saw him as plainly as I did; aivl I saw the wicked sneer that came to her face when she recognized him. Don looked per- fectly dreadful! He had an old hat on that '> >oked as if it had been picked up in somebody's back yard. And there was a great scab en his cheek. And there he sat without a collar, and his shirt looked the color of the walk beneath his feet. His clothes were dreadfully soiled, and torn besides; and his shoes were nearly worn out, and you know 1, \v particular he was iibout his dress and looks. He saw me, too, and when I started to go toward him, his face turned red and he ran away from me. I believe that he has walked all the way back from Albany and that someone has been pound aig him, or that he twna AIR OABTLB DON lias met with some dreadful accident, and that he was su ashamed of his appearance that he didn't want nu: to spiaii to liim. Oil, if he had only waited for me I would have brought him home with me, even if all Boston had stared at us!" And Nora, exhausted by her excitement, began to cry and wring her hands. " , -i Her mother was much perplexed, but the more she ques- tioned Nora, the more was she convinced of the correctness of her representations. She was filled with anxiety and could not restrain her own tears. As soon as Dert came home, the story was poured into his ears, and lost nothing in the retelling by Nora. He ques- tioned her on cver\ point, and found it difficult even then to believe that she had really seen him. "It must have been somebody else who resembled him, just as Don and I resemble each other," he said, anxiously seeking a loophole of escape from his fears. "Then why should he turn red at seeing me, and run away from me?" Nora replied, shutting her brother up to her own conviction. He went over to the Coverts to see Miss Agincourt. The amiable maiden had already acquainted Covert and his wife with her discovery, and the first thing Covert said when he saw Bert was: "So, you have heard from your pet attic boarder? Are you going to take him in again?" "Is Miss Agincourt in?" Bert asked without noticing Covert's question. "If she is I should like to see her alone for a few minutes." 'Oh, of course! You want to hear the story straight and hot from her own lips. She is in the reception room and will, I know, be very glad to see you." i .T*^*' he was so to speak to avc l)rc)Ught red at us I" to cry and re she ques- correctncss ty and could ired into his He quc8- even then to embled him, d, anxiously nd run away > to her own icourt. The and his wife aid when he >ur pet attic out noticing her alone for straight and >om and will, Ain CASTLE DON Bert was no sooner in the presence of the lady than he began with: "Did you sec Don Donalds this afternoon. Miss Agincourt? Nora says he was on the Coinnion, and that you saw him at the same time she did. I thought it possible for her to be mistaken." Miss Agincourt smiled so maliciously that Bert was answered before she sf)okc. Taking time to frame her reply in accordance with her smile, she went on to say with a most provoking deliberation: "From the outcry your sister made, and from the way she started toward him, I think that I am justified in saying that she recognized him as easily as I did, notwithstanding his rags and filth." "His rags and filth!" Bert exclaimed, white with rage at the evident satisfaction with which she used the words. "If he was in rags and filth, it is because you pulled away the ladder by which he was trying to climb and dumped him among the mud and stones. If I were not a gentleman mak- ing a call upon a lady I'd say more and worse. I beg your pardon for speaking so plainly." Miss Agincourt indulged in such a peculiarly sharp-pointed laugh that Bert dropped from the heights of the man down to the impulsive boy that he was, and suddenly burst out with: "May God have mercy upon your poor little, miserable, skinny, powder-faced soul!" "Tut, tut! you young scamp!" interrupted Covert, hasten- ing into the room from the place where he had been eaves- dropping. "If you don't know how to control your tongue, you must get into the street as quickly as your feet can carry you." "Save your breath, Mr. Covert— it is so very, very valuable; and trust me to know enough to get out of a den of vipers ^thout waiting for orders to go." Bert had already risen to ...;:Jil 'Jk.., 164 AIR CASTLE DON take his leave, and he shot this parting arrow with such down- right venom that both Covert and Miss Agincourt winced under the stroke. "Yes, it was Don beyond a doubt," said Bert in answer to his mother's inquiries. "And that Agincourt viperess is actu- ally rejoicing over what she called his rags and fiith. What do you think of that for a specimen of womankind?" "She is not a fair specimen of the sex to which your sister and mother belong, bat 'she is a sample of people of both sexes who are disappointed if their evil surmisings fail of fulfillment." "She tried to make her uncle believe that Don was a liar, and now she will go to him and try to convince him that he is a criminal also," said Nora bitterly. If they had known that the sweet Arabella had already been to the store, and that she had already been roasted by the colonel they would not have wondered at her lack of com- passion for the unfortunate Don, for roasted people are apt to reserve their compassion for themselves. The explanatory guesses of the little family were not far from the truth. They concluded that Don had been over- taken by some unaccountable misfortune, and that having returned to the city in a beggarly condition, his pride had prompted his escape from Nora, and would prevent him from coming to the house cr from putting himself in the way of being seen by anyone who knew him. They feared that he would suffer to the last verge of endurance before his pride yielded. "To morrow is Sunday," said Nora, lighting up with a faint hope, "and you must spend the day searching for him. Perhaps he may be on the Common again." Bert spent the day roaming the Common, the Public Garden and the streets where he thought he would be likely SS^SEgSS^ 1 such dowii- iourt winced in answer to eress is actu- fi;th. What d?" h your sister of both sexes f fulfillment." >n was a liar, lini that he is already been tasted by the lack of com- ple are apt to were not far d been over- that having his pride had 'ent him from n the way of eared that he fore his pride ig up with a hing for him. 1, the Public Duld be likely ,is^ -b'JV- l.^l'iv, ' ri" - PW;T-' '' " iii u. i L»n.n .i ii mmnni ii pt.w I , wpur^wpi^fwpigignqui" AIR CASTLE DON 166 to happen upon his chum. He searched in vain. The fear that Don was without a sheUer to cover his head, filled the family with such dismay that silence became their only refuge. Colonel Wickworth did not dismiss Don from his mind with the departure of Miss .\gincourt from the store. He had a high opinion of his worth, yet, wise in the knowledge of high- strung natures:, he readily understood why the boy had left the city, and reproached himself for not having seen him per- sonally and dissuaded him from making so hazardous a move. The picture that was given of his forlorn appearance haunted him all day Sunday, and the only relief he obtained was by assuring himself that Don would certainly return to his North Square boarding place. But there still remained the fact, as indicated in Miss Agincourt's account, that he avoided his former landlady's daughter; and it was a fact he could not explain to his satisfaction. / :- . "' :, The deacon was away on business, and on Monday morn- ing the colonel sent a note to Bert's employers requesting them to let him go to the Wickworth store for ten or twenty minutes; and by way of explanation, he said that the Donalds boy was in trouble without any fault of his own, and that the interview was to be in his interest. "Has Dor returned to your place?" was the first question with which the colonel met Bert's entrance into the counting room. "No, sir," was the desponding reply, followed by the won- dering question : "How did you know that he had returned to the city?" "I learned of it through Miss Agincourt, and I judged from what she said that he has been very unfortunate, and has, in fact, become destitute. I am anxious about him, for he does not deserve to suffer." - . y p ii y iipi»y i . « iM? . 166 AIR CASTLE DON Immensely pleased with this manifestation of interest on the colonel's part, Bert opened his heart and repeated what Nora had said about Don's appearance. He also tried to account for Don's failure to return to North Square. "I think I understand that part of it," said the colonel nervously, "but I cannot understand why he should look so seedy in so short a time. Possibly he has pawned his clothing to keep from starving. Have you written to him?" "Not yet. He left word for me to forward his mail to Albany, and I took it for granted that he would not be very likely to go to the ofHce here." "A letter dropped in the office will be published in the usual list of letters remaining in the office, and he may see the list and call for the letter. Write to him and urge him to return to your house. Say that a friend will supply him with all needed clothing and ^ocome responsible for his board until he can get on his feet again. Write also that Phillips & Sampson being in need of a boy, 1 have recommended him to them, and they will keep the place open for a week or ten days. You must also put a 'personal' in four of the city papers, saying thp.! he will find something to his interest by calling upon you at an early date, and here is the money to pay for the advertisement. I am much concerned for him, and as soon as you hear from him, you must let me know of it, but not in a way to bring our doings to the notice of my brother." Bert promised to follow the colonel's directions to the letter, and thanked him gratefully for the interest he took in Don's welfare. At the home dinner that day the colonel was canonized among the saints, and Nora's tongue itched for words adequate to his praise. Both the deacon and Miss Agincourt had a sneaking par- tiality for newspaj-er 'personals,' and it was not long before tiitn I interest on eated what 50 tried to re. the colonel lid look so lis clothing lis mail to lot be very n the usual see the list n to return m with all joard until Phillips & ded him to )r ten days, ity papers, by calling to pay for im, and as V of it, but y brother." 3ns to the he took in :olonel was itched for laking par- ong before II - 1,1. l u i Ufl« ; if. ; Mi l | i j..; 'I jy g ^.B i t- ' . ■' V'J. -U ' .'"- M MJ. AIR CASTLE DON 167 they saw the one relating to Don. Miss Agincourt was the first to inform the deacon of Don's return to the city. She abated neither jot nor tittle in the malignity of her suspicions, and the deacon concluded that the shop had been rid of a hopeless scapegrace. The 'personal' was dismissed from notice by assuming that it was merely an attempt on the part of Bert's mother to recover an attic boarder. j^- ^#^^^ ' PIHP CHAPTER XVII. A PUZZLED YOUTHFUL PILGRIM. While Don was making the journey from Pittsfield to Boston in the comfortable car at a rate that almost annihilated distance, the jolts of the train, the turns in the road and the swift succession of scenes were but parables of the jolts of his mind, the turns in his thoughts and the succession of possibil- ities that suggested themselves to his feverish imagination. The tramp from Albany to Pittsfield, and the night spent in the haystack, rankled in his heart fully as much as did the night spent in the prison. ' ' ^ . 1 As the train sped on, tramp pilgrims by ones and twos and threes were passed almost every other mile, and he shivered at the bare idea of being one in the long and scattered pro- cession of forlorn tatterdemalions leaking out of nowhere and streaming on to an equally indefinite destination. How did their lives begin? Where would they end? Was not every man's hand lifted against them? Were they to be the vermin of eternity as they were of time? Here was a "crook in the lot" that was past Don's power to straighten out. How much of the crook was due to the faults and misfortunes of the pilgrims of the road? How much, to the defects of society or the indifference of humanity, or the positive neglect prompted by the overweening selfishness of the more fortunate.'' Don believed that every human being, tattered or tailor-dressed, (i68) "\ ' wtmm». -„.*- 1 ittsfield to innihilated id and the jolts of his )f possibil- lagination. It spent in as did the \ twos and e shivered tered pro- where and How did not every he vermin 3ok in the low much les of the society or prompted ite .■' Don )r-dressed, AIR CASTLE DON 169 had an immortal soul, but irom his point of view it appeared to him as if souls were considered of far less account than the buttons people wore upon their clothes. ^Te know how keenly even a ragamuffin like himself could suiter, and he blamed himself for not having thought more concerning the sufferings of others until the shoe began to pinch his own foot. A dim light relieved his dark thoughts. There were the roundhouse saints who had been so kind to him. Were there not many ethers like them scattered among the multitudes? saints who seldom entered churches, yet ministered to suffer- ing as they found opportunity, and that, too, without letting their left hand know what their right hand was doing? With two dollars in his pocket and rolling wheels beneath him bearing him so swiftly toward Boston — with these fur- nished to him by his roundhouse benefactors, and with their rough, yet sympathetic words lingering in his memory like flowers clinging to a beetling cliff, he was in a fair way to take reasonable views of even the inequalities of life. But suddenly there was a turn, a violent jolt in his thoughts and he was thrown from the track altogether, and all that was left for him to do was to pick hitiiself from among the splinters of the wreck, count his wounds and be his own surgeon to them. Charity! That was the word that threw him from the rail. "I am an object of charity," he said to himself, "and the roundhouse men helped me because I was an object of char- ity." The thought made his two dollars burn in his pocket; and the measured sound made by the wheels as they struck each successive rail spelled charity as plainly as it was spelled in the spelling book or dictionary. The noble word, so sug- gestive of noble deeds and motives, stuck in his throat so obstinately that it almost choked him. , 170 AIR CASTLE DON "I'll not be an object of charity to anyone, nor for any- body," he said aloud, gritting his teeth and clenching his hands, and stiffening up in his whole person. "That is where the tramp-world begins. Men become willing to receive char- ity, and charity becomes the open hole down which they sink into shiftlessness and nothingness. And if people give, it is because they want to rid themselves of the things that would otherwise remain in sight to annoy them. No more charity for me. If I can't fight my way up, I'll cast myself down so deep that not even an undertaker can find me. Every dollar I have received, from the colonel down to the firemen, shall be paid back again ; and if I can't get it into the hands of the men to whom it belongs, I'll throw it into a missionary box, and send it so far away that there will be small chance of its coming back to haunt and humiliate me." So here was Don going back to Boston minus his trunk, but with a car load of pride and a car load of suspicion and distrust, which might have been of use to him could they have been condensed into pocket quantities and carried about as self respect and caution. Possibly the pressure to which he was to be subjected led, in a measure, to this result in the end. When he landed at the station he felt glad to know that he was in Boston again, and he said to himself: "Here I'll stick and push my roots down until I can find something to grow upon." The passengers who came out of the Boston and Albany station were confronted by one of the most squalid and dis- reputable precincts of the city. Keenly remembering his own battered and disreputable appearance, and fearing that the neighborhood would claim him and suck him down into its whirlpool depths without any choice of his own, he hurried in the direction of the Common. He thought of the attic in the '"■■■.- ^g^^j^^,^^jiifgffgii^0jgi^gsi0iu^^ * ' ' ;-* ',^ ■ ' ' "*< ' .. ! . ' yt ' ■ ' '0> » ' ■ ▲IR OASTLB DON 171 widow's house and longed to go back to the little mother's family. But having resolved to keep clear of all acquaintances till he was in a condition to meet them> on equal terms, he stifled his feelings and entered the Common and sat down upon one of the seats. What should he do next? How soon would his blank page give place to a title page or to a chapter with something in it worth considering? For a long time he remained motionless. He studied deeply what should be his next move, but the more he thought, the more perplexed he grew. Presently he noticed that his garments were still covered with the dust of travel ; his hands were grimy, and his skin felt as if the filth of a sewer had been flowing over him. The consciousness of dirt took possession of him, and his whole nature rose in rebellion against this first and worst symptom of degradation. It seemed to him as though his outward meanness of appearance was corroding his very soul with rust and shabbiness. He hurried to the foot of the Public Garden which, at that time reached the salt water of the inflowing sea. The sun was setting gloriously over the purple hills in the west. Not a loiterer n ir a bluecoat lingered near. A boat-flat floated below the wall ; lowering himself to this he disrobed and flung himsolf into the water. And there, where Commonwealth avenue, the grandest avenue in all Massachusetts, has since been laid out upon made land; and where magnificent churches, art rooms, institutes .and palatial residences have since sprung up, the pride of Boston and the wonder of visitors, Don revelled mid the sunset hues reflected upon the waters, diving, swimming and plunging about as he had been wont to do in the waters near his far-of? home. And then, after sporting like a porpoise, he remembered his chief purpose, and seeking the shallows dredged sand from the bottom with =f: 1 " ^TlWPffPPP 172 AIR CASTLE DON which he scoured his skin till it was as red as the sun itself. If the Naiades — the nymphs of the waters — had done their duty, they would have put a new suit of clothes on the flat for Don's use when he should return to shore. In recompense they might have taken his old garments to use as floor-cloths for their kitchens. But perhaps Boston intelligence had ban- ished them from its matter-of-fact precincts and had forced them to return to Greece or to the classic realms of pure mythology. Don took his clothes and threshed them on the planks of the flat till every dust-atom fled in dismay. When he climbed the wall and walked about renewed in every fiber of his being, he looked like a young god masquerading in old clothes just for the fun of the thing, or for the sake of walking incog and taking point-blank peeps at the lower walks of Boston life. Now that he had shaken the dust from his garments, washed the grime from his body, and thereby thrown off some of the weight from his mind and driven out some of the specters which had tormented his soul he walked briskly to the upper part of the Common where, after obtaining something to eat from one of the stands, he sat down to watch the after- tea promenaders who flocked together on the Tremont Mall in great numbers. Presently joining in the promiscuous pro- cession and catching the spirit of the happy throng he walked and whistled as unconcernedly as though a bed awaited him in one of the millionaire mansions of Beacon street. As the evening advanced the crowd sifted out through the gfates of the Common till only belated people making short cuts in various directions appeared here and there. Finally the sifting left but an occasional straggler to disturb the soli- tude. In the tree forks there were houses built for the pet squirrels of the city, and among the branches there were fancy n itself, ne their flat for mpensc r-cloths ad ban- J forced of pure AiR CASTLE DON 178 nests provided for the birds which chose to occupy them — the English sparrow had not yet conquered the United States — but Don had nowhere to lay his head. Having resolved to husband his scant funds for food alone he was dependent upon chance for sleeping quarters. The day had been a long and exciting one and he was now suffering from the inevitable reaction and fatigue. Seeing that the mall policeman was beginning to notice his presence, he passed down to the old cemetery on the south side of the Common, and, looking through the iron railing, he sought some place where among the vaults and tombstones, he might pass the rest of the night. A large fir tree which hugged the ground with its low thick branches invited him to its shelter, and he was about to |:limb the fence and hide himself among the dead, when a watchman appeared and drove the thought from his mind. He left the Common and passed into the streets, where for awhile his loneliness was relieved by the returning theater goers. When these also melted away among the shadows he found himself alone near the old Tremont Temple, Noticing a narrow passageway in one end of the building, and observing that it had no door, and concluding that the stairway led toward the top of the structure, he decided to venture in, hoping that he might happen upon some corner where he could lie down and sleep undisturbed. The few feeble jets that were left burning, and which served but to make the darkness visible, indicated that they were for the use of the watchman of the building. Nevertheless he continued to ascend till he reached the uppermost floor. He was now in a wide hallway bounded by seemingly disused apartments, and cumbered with stowage of a miscellaneous description. He noticed a long narrow packing case with a loose upturned cover leaning against one of the walls. I J ik ■ ■■« A iiWfi^yfiiiip!;.'- 174 AIR OASTLB DON "A bed good enough for a prince!" he said softly to him- self, after cautiously examining it, "barring the fact that it looks a little like a coffin." It was partially filled with soft packing papers. Don slipped in, lowered the cover, leaving an opening sufficient for ventilation, and after lifting grateful thoughts heavenward, he fell asleep. Treniont Temple was a hive of rooms and offices, with the great auditorium, the chief meeting place of The Temple Church, and the much-used lecture room and place of gather- ing for great public occasions, at the center of the whole. The night guardianship of the quaint old granite building — subse- quently destroyed by fire — was intrusted to a gray-haired negro, a meinber of the Temple Church, and one of the eccen- tric characters of Boston. In his way he was a pedant of words, and once a year a complimentary benefit was extended to him by the fun-loving youth of the city. The large hall was used for this purpose, and notwithstanding the admission was put at fifty cents, it was always filled to suffocation. The negro usually gave a rambling lecture packed with columns of dictionary the pompous delivery of which was accompanied with incessant applause or catcalls, and tributes thrown upon the stage in the shape of bad eggs, dead rats, cabbages and other unsavory accompaniments. In the end the negro was the greater gainer; the young men had their annual frolic, and the negro his dollars running up into the hundreds; and so, as between the negro and the audience, the negro, judging by the practical results, was the wiser of the twain. He was an extremely pious man and a frequent and accept- able exhorter at the Temple Church prayer meetings. His bachelor quarters were on the floor where Don had made his bed for the night. Having completed the last round of the building toward the gray of the morn he was retreating to his MfUMI ▲Ill (lASTLn DON room when lie heard a rustlinuf in the box where Don lay. Going toward the sound he said in a low voice to himself: "If my olfactories do not deceive me, I hears the sound of a mighty progigeous rat in that lemoncholy looking box." Don, who, though still asleep was dreaming that he was preaching a sermon before a temple congregation, uttered some v.'ords that were echoes from his father's pulpit. "Tie complexion of dose words don't germinate from the inceptions of no quadrupuddic animal," said the negro, intently Ij.stening. "And it isn't no emmernashun from Satan nuther. Sounds critically like as though a preacher dun got lost from h/.s moorings and sailed plum into the projecting arms of a packing case." Advancing,he cautiously lifted the loose cover, just as Don, in low sighing tones which seemed to come from afar, said: "What time I am afraid, I will trust in thee." "Bless your soul, honey!" exclaimed the black man, forget- ting to starch his sentences, and speaking in tones that trembled with emotion ; "there is nothing to be afraid of while this chile is watching over you. And the Lord himself has said to them who trust in him, 'I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee'." The sound of his voice awoke the sleeper. Don opened his eyes and seeing the black face peering down upon him, without being able in the dimness of the light to discern the sympathy expressed thereon, he said in a half pleading voice: "Don't call a policeman ; having no other place to go to, I came here to sleep for the night, not meaning any harm to anything or anybody." "Policeman I" exclaimed the negro. "I'm the policeman of this edifice, and the gardeen of all that's in it. And when I hiappen upon a boy in such a tight box as that, and a preaching ^. I IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) ;s^ l^. 1.0 I.I ■SIM 2.5 M 11 2.0 1.8 1.25 1.4 1 6 == == ., f^n ► Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 V ^">^~- 176 AIR CASTLE DON and a scripturing in his sleep, I'm not going to disconvenience him by giving him up to the heathen for his inheritance. If you'll elevate yourself from that box, I'll take you to my room what's on this floor, and give you a breakfast as expediently as possible." Don followed him to his well kept room, where the negro, being an excellent cook, soon served a warm and appetizing breakfast. Happily for the guest, the host became so intent upon framing a succession of his wonderful sentences that he forgot to inquire into Don's private history or future intentions. The box-lodger went down the long flight of stairs leading to the street laboring under conflicting feelings; he was grate- ful to the negro for his kindness, yet humiliated to think that, notwithstanding his resolution, he had again become the sub- ject of charity, nor did he recover from the sting of his pride until he had taken a vigorous walk upon the Common. When the hour for the opening of business approached he went down to the wharf side of the city, and alter applying to several stevedores for work, was to his great joy engaged for two hours to wash down the upper decks of a ship which, not being ready for sea, had not yet shipped her crew. For this worK he received twenty cents which so encouraged him that he went the rounds of the wharves in the hope of finding other employment. He continued his search, but unavailingly, till some time after noon. Boston Common is the airy Bethesda where countless weary and woebegone spirits have found mitigation of their sorrows and ills. Don again resorted to it for rest and for the soothing effects it always produced upon his mind. After sit- ting awhile in one of the least frequented portions of the open green, Vvhere he could get the full bMiefit of both sun and air, he took one of the by paths that led toward the Beacon Mall, yjjiji ' ^jm i . „r~-*?- AIR CASTLE DON 177 where the Saturday afternoon promenaders were out in full force. The gay procession fascinated him, and he sat down upon one of the numerous seats facing the mall to watch the rich display of color and beauty. A lovely little miss chasing a gaily painted hoop passed so near to him that he turned his head to keep her in view as she sped down the mall. When he again faced the throngs of people, Miss Agincourt was slowly passing with her steel-g^ay eyes fixed contemptuously upon him, and close behind her was Nora, who, when she recognized him, made an involuntary movement toward him, her face filled with surprise and pity. • ^ Overwhelmed with shame and confusion, and hardly know- ing what he did, he turned his back on her and literally ran away. "What will they think? What will they say?" he exclaimed in great distress, when at a safe distance he halted to recover his breath. "Am I a coward or a fool — or both?" he reflected after having had time to cool, and, for the first time since his return, distrusting the consistency of his conduct. "I am neither!" he finally concluded; "but I should have been both if in this condition — looking like a cornfield scare- crow—I had thrown myself upon my friends as another object for their charity." '•# • *">" ' CHAPTER XVIII. AN INVOLUNTARY DETBCTIVB. ^^. Days passed without any change in Don's fortune. Hav- ing no use for the post office, he kept away from it, and having no change to spend upon newspapers, he went without them, and consequently Bert's letter failed to reach him, as did also the 'personal' written for his benefit. He scoured the city for work, hut was getting so severely scoured himself that his appearance was a constant contra- diction to hi? apjlications. His shoes barely held together, his clothes were little better, and Bob Flanger's hat, the crown of his mendicancy, was so rapidly going to pieces, there was small chance of even a fragment of it being left for a memento of the roundhouse saints. He still took his salt vater baths, although no cleanliness of body could atone for the condition of his clothes. Of a former Russian age the historian tells us that: "The grandees came to court dropping pearls, dia- monds — ^and vermin." In those days, splendor atoned for filth ; in these, no degree of cleanliness of the body can atone for frayed garments. The world thinks more of clothes than it does of skinthes than who has I's dollars :ed to the ng while stirring, -ijUr- AIR CASTLE DON he, for the first time, notirtd with envy the loaves of brown bread and the pots of baked beans which, fresh from the bak- ing ovens that had been kept going all night, were left on the door steps, just as now the Sunday newspapers are left. Something whispered, "If thou be an equal of thy fellows, command a pot of beans and a loaf of brown bread to follow thee; and help them to obey by carrying them under thine arms." He had heard Father Taylor say from the pulpit: "If I saw a hungry man stealing bread, my tongue would wither before I would cry, 'Stop, thief!" If human beings ask for the bread of work and are given the stone of indifference ; or, if they ask for the egg of subsist- ence, and are givsn the scorpion of reproach, what wonder if they sometimes turn to ravening fiends ready for treasons, stratagems and spoils! By day Don's courage rose like the sun, but by night his fears multiplied like the stars. The midnight dens of vice, the skulking minions of crime and the staggering victims of dissi- pation filled him with horror. By day Boston appeared like a belle ; by night, like a hag. Don did not believe in using pious phvases for superstitious incantations, yet from his young soul rose a voiceless cry to the Invisible On": "Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil." Time and again he recalled the language of the noblest of all human Litanies: "From all evil and mischief; from sin, from the crafts and assaults of the devil; from thy wrath, and from everlasting damnation. Good Lord, deliver us." At eleven o'clock of a night which was to be memorable in his life, he found himself in the vicinity of the old North Church. He knew its history; the story of the signal lantern, and the Ride of Paul Revere to Lexington. Scn-ething in its plain old front appealed to his confidence, and he tried all the 1 s S 1 4 1 M raji^Trninnnr i Tf -t i n , -j-narriTniin 1 , 1 j i I « l yuwi '^' H "Wyt^J iff ' 180 AIR CASTLE DON u '. tip entrances in the hope that he might find an opening that would admit him. But the building was closed as tight as the water lily that shuts itself up at night. Then he thought of the old historic Copp's Hill Burying Ground near by, where so many of the colonial fathers and revolutionary heroes were buried. He determined to spend the night among its graves, for he fell that he would there be safe from the interference of the guardians of the night. The cemetery, propped up by walls, lifts itself quite high above the level of the surrounding streets. Its winding walks and heavily shaded grounds, its innumerable graves and diversified stones and monuments afforded him just the seclusion he needed. There were gas lights sufficient to enable him to see the immediate spaces around him. Going to one of the most isolated portions of the ground, he sat down upon a flat stone which was supported by several pillars. On looking upon the face of the stone there was just enough light to enable him to read the epitaph of Cotton Mather, the foe of Quakers and the burner of witches. He looked under the stone, not for the spirit nor for the dust of the stern old puritan, but to see how much space there was between the under part of the stone and the surface of the earth. Here was a lodging for him. Near by there were several small piles of green clippings which had been cut by a lawn mower. Some of these clippings he put benescth the broad stone, and then crawled in and made himself up for a peaceful night's rest. He pulled up his coat collar for a quilt, drew his hat over his eyes for a curtain, and put his two hands under his head for a pillow. It was a grotesque anticipation of the end of all ilesh, though the fact did not appeal to his imagin- ation at that moment. Peepin?r from under the edge of his hat-rim, he saw a rat moving here and there among the graves, ii'nrll AIR 0A8TLB DON 181 X and owing to the irregular flickerings of the gas lights the trees, shrubbery and monuments appeared to be dancing a stately minuet with the restless shadows. For a moment his flesh began to creep, but he diverted his fears by thinking: "If Cotton Mather had half the virtues that are recorded on the stone above me, there is little danger of his dust beneath me coming up to interfere with my lodging." For a long while he laid and listened to the diminishing sounds of the streets, the play of the wind among the foliage, and for the striking of the clock bells of the city. Weariness overcoming watchfulness he finally became unconscious. About three o'clock he was awakened by the sound of voices immediately over his head. He next became conscious of two pairs of legs— one pair in black and the other pair in gray — hanging down from the top edge of ♦.he stone in thrill- ing nearness to his head. He was so excited by the discovery, and his heart throbbed so violently he was sure the strangers would hear its beats. The men began to converse, and the subject of their con- versation left no doubt as to the nature of their characters. "It's a mighty good haul," said a deep voice at the top of the black trousers. "Yes," responded the other with an oath, and in an under- tone. "But," he added fiercely, "while I was hooking that ticker, and raking in the lings and the jewelry from the bureau where the gas was burning, the young woman sat up as straight as a clothes pin, and blinked at me like an owl. But when I pinted my gun at her and told her that I'd kill her if she made a sound, she fell back as limp and as silent as a dish cloth. I had the bead on her, and at the first breath of sound would have killed her as dead as a door nail." "Well, I shinnea through my part of the job as easy as a ■S5 I S ■sa; iQ^BSBi^EpiMiitBpniPHMf^^ ■fi«P"" 182 AIB GA8TLB DON farmer picking his apples," said the first speaker. "The first room I went into had an old duffer and his wife in it, and the^ was both snoring so loud an engine might have gone in there whistling and not heard itself. It was there I got them two gold tickers and them two pocket books, and them little tinklers. Ot: the other side of the hall I found two youngsters a-sleeping as accommodative as these dead blokes around in these here graves. There I scaled two more tickers, two purses, and this here handsome seven-shooter; and they kept as still all the time as if the angels were fanning of them." "And the swag we pulled from the silver closet is solid silver, as sure as nuts," remarked his companion, as he cHiik- ingly tested one of the pieces upon the stone. "I guess it'll be some time before the chap that's under this stone'll have another such a layout over him," and altnough Don knew that the words referred to the dead, they startled him almost as much as if they meant him. "It's a blamed good job for beginners," was the chuckling reply. "And now let's count the inside of these pocketbooks; they are as fat as the city dads." Although Don knew that he was in great danger, he was seized with an irresistible inclination to sneeze, and finding that it was impossible for him to suppress the untimely tend- ency, he accompanied the explosion with an outcry that was so prolonged and curdling the robbers with an exclamation of terror fled from the spot leaving their spoils and dropping their hats as they ran. Here was fresh cause for alarm on Don's part. The police on some of the aajacent streets would certainly be brought to the spot by his startling cry, and he would be implicated in the robbery. But no one came. It seemed an age from the flight of the men to the dtwn of the day. He crawled cau- ■iiiiiiiiiiii.iiii'ntvni'i J i' :;l »» . -i; ■•■J. -%, .Mi* ■ (- -J^ »!>«7 ^^ ■*«- i ■r.i • 'I Ain OABTLB. DON tiously from under the stone and was met by a display of wealth that was dazzling to one on the very verge of starvation. He promptly and hastily bundled everything into the bag from which the robbers had drawn their plunder, and v/ith the unwelcome burden on his back and the two forsaken hats in his hand he started for the nearest police station. The early morning stragglers looked curiously at him as he passed, but his greatest dread was lest the police should cross his path and find the plunder in his possession before he could clear himself by delivering it at the station. Marching straight up to the two officers who were behind the station desk, engaged in an earnest conversation, he deliv- ered the bag into their possession, and while they examined the contents he told his story from the time of his entrance into the cemetery to the time of his leaving it. The bag contained four gold watches, one revolver, several pieces of costly jewelry, upwards of three hundred dollars in bills, several notes of hand and one large check. "This is a very strange story you tell," said one of the men, who proved to be the captain of the precinct, "but fortunately for you, circumstances are in your favor, and we have the evidence to prove that you have done one of the best detective jobs that was ever done in this district. One of our officers was nearly run down by two bareheaded fellows who were chasing down Salem street as though the whole department was at their heels. They are now in the lockup, and, unques- tionably, these hats belong to them. One of the men has black trousers, and the other gray, as you have said. Could you recognize them?" "I did not see their faces for the reason I have stated," said Don immensely relieved by the turn of affairs, and by the believing words of the officer. "If you could get them to talk L^i:xr<' I-iiuliaiaJiSi. ■j--^.-::;^^ 184 AIR 0A8TLB DON In my presence without letting them know of my connection with the case, I tliink I shouKl recognize their voices." "Well, we'll see about that; but I am afraid that jou'U be puzzled. While they thought they had a sure thing their voices would sound one way, but now tliat they are jugged, they may sound altogether diflferent. The boy that's getting a spanking doesn't speak as he did while laying in the goodies from the pantry. However, we'll have them brought in and see what we can do with these hats." The men had given the names of Cranston and Grimlow, and when they were brought in, Don thought that they were as villainous a pair as he had seen during the wholtf of his own nocturnal advejitures. There was quuc a difference in the sizes of the hats, and when the men were brought to the desk, the astute officer took the larger of the two and with great apparent suavity and sim- plicity said to the larger headed criminal: "Here is your hat, Mr. Cranston." With similar politeness, he added: "And this smaller one is yours, Mr. Grimlow." ' Not suspecting the trap laid for them, each man received his hat as a matter of course; but they winced when the captain, lifting the bag from beneath his desk placed the con- tents in full view, s?ying: "I am afraid that your title to this property is not as good as the title you have to your hats, and I presume that you did not know that we had a detective under that tombstone last night. You doubtless thought that the dead had risen to bear witness against you when you heard that outcry, when it was only this witness we happened to have there," and he pointed to Don, as he spoke. "He wasn't in imiform last night, as you perceive, but all the same he picked up what you left, including your hats, and brought it in. I am glad that our officers have taken you in so that you ronncction t jou'll be hiiig their re jugged, i getting a le goodies ;ht in and Grimlow, ly were as )f his own hats, and flficer took ' and sim- your hat, d: "And received when the the con- e to this lats, and ive under that the eard that to have A'asn't in [e picked it in. I ;hat you Allt CASTLE DON 185 might have another opportunity to look upon tins pluiider. It would he good policy to own up to the wliolc transaction, for by so doing you may shorten your time in tlie penitentiary," Before he could go furtiier witii the sweating jjrocess, and before the pair had uttered a wortl, he was reinforced by five persons who entered the station in what might be called 'a state of mind.' One was a fat, ponderous, well dressed Ger- man; another was his wife, equally obese and well dressed; and the remaining three consisted of his pretty daughter and two grown sons. All were more or less out of breath. "Ach! you bolice vas goot for noddins!" exclaimed the irate head of the party before he was half way across the floor. "You petter puts some betticoats on, vor you lets us pe robbed und killed yust as though ve vas nopoddy but poor beoples mit no monish to pay our taxes." Here his eye fell upon the spoils displayed upon the cap- tain's desk. The veins on his forehead distended notwith- standing the thickness and tightness of his skin as he said: "Gott in himmel! Dot vas our bropertyl How vas you get it so soon?" He was interrupted by his daughter who, pointing to one of the prisoners angrily said: "That is the man who threat- ened to shoot me last night! Oh, you contemptible coward! I should like to see you hung higher than Haman!" "Very good," said the captain complacently, and not with- out amusement, "Now, if some of you will identify the other prisoner, we shall be in a fair way to provide both of them with a strong home in the State Hotel." The family were residents of the captain's precinct and were quite well known to him. Mr. Vonberg and his two sons were the owners of a prosperously large clothing house w^ 186 AIR 0A8TLB DON I V i in the business portion of the city. The head of the family was still fuming under the irritation caused by the invasion of his house, and he replied to the captain's question somewhat wrathily by saying: "How vas ve identify anypuddy ven ve vas schleeping und minding our own pusiness so hard dot ve don't know noddins, except dot von what keeps ervake?" "Well," said the captain, "you can identify this property fast enough." "Yas; ve don't hafe to keep ervak vor dot, und ve vas dake it home mit us dis very minute." "We shall have to wait for the end of the prosecution and for the order of the court before we can do that, Mr. Vonberg. But you need have no anxiety about the safety of it." "I guess dot vas so; but how vas you get it so quick?" After sending the prisoners back to their cells, the captain began his explanations with the introduction of Don to the family. "He was our detective in this busin?ss, and you are indebted to him for the safety of the property, which he brouglit here shortly before your arrival." And he went on, and mid a running fire of questions and exclamations from each member of the family, explained the particulars of the case. But none of them could understand how any innocent person could be so unfortunate as to be compelled to take lodgings in a graveyard before his death; or how, being so destitute, he could be honest enough to give up what had, wivh such seeming opportuneness, fallen into his hands. The captain was a good judge of human nature, and having been greatly prepossessed in Don's favor, he strenuously defended him from all suspicion of dishonesty or insincerity; and he ended by saying: "The least you can do for the return of your valuables is to make some provision for his immediate needs." thi in] so th ar lO! Tl wl: be tht pn pel sec pol Ur vol go tre hai he ad< Vc ad' to "A CO >*>. wmW' WlRBUWl WX- AIM CASTT.B DON 187 At this moment an early bird of a reporter, searching for the early worm of morning news for his evening paper, came in, and with all the zeal of an experienced professional pounced upon the case as an exceptionally rich piece of local news. He probed into details so industriously and deeply that he was soon in possession of the main facts of Don's history from the time of his departure from home to the time of his singular arrival at the police station. Not a word of the account was lost upon either the policemen or the Vonberg family. The latter held an animated consultation with one another while the reporter was busy with his notes, and the result may be given in Mr. Vonberg's own words. "Dot boy," said he mellowly, "vas schleeps no more mit ther deat till he vas deat hisself. Ve dakes him mit us to preakvast vare he vas hafe some goot glothes put upon him pefore he eats. He vas putty much the same size as mein second son, who vas gif him his second suit vrom top to pottom, vich vas make him look like a young shentlemen. Un.d ve vas gif him vifty tollars, ven he vas done mit preakvast, vor dot goncert he sings unner dot gravestone. Den he schall go mit us to our store, vare ve vas gif him a new trunk und tree new suits of glothes vor to put in it. Pesides, he schall hafe a blace in our store vare he vas get six tollars a veek, till he vas get sefen ven he vas mit us six months." And turning to the reporter with assumed cunning, he added: "Yon vas write all dot down mit der pencil erpout Vonberg und his sons, so dot, it schall make von goot pig advertisement vor their pusiness." I will, for a fact!" exclaimed the reporter, generously glad to know that Don's affairs were taking such a favorable turn. "And you may depend upon it," he added with warmth, "your confidence in him is not misplaced. You are not doing a deed :i I I 4.mv- ' ' '" Hj l JJ i|ii ||i i « ll !'■"«.,» ■!. "Hi 188 AIR CASTLE DON of charity, but an act of justice, and a good stroke cf business withal." Froni Ilia inmost soul, Don blessed the reporter for these words. In no small degree they helped to melt the ice and snow from his bending branches, and to restore the self respect that was so rapidly diminishing under the pressure of poverty and the accumulation of distrust. The ponderous machinery of justice, as seen in the police station; of business, as seen in the Von bergs; of the press, as seen in the reporter, no longer seemed a mere thing of steel and steam heartlessly thundering mid the agonies of human souls; the pulsating hand of life was upon the lever of the machine, and in that life there was a fountain filled with blood drawn from humanity's veins — a touch of nature that made all the world kin. And so, the hapless youth who had returned to Boston overloaded with pride and distrust, was ready to dump his unprofitable baggage at the station, where he had been so prof- itably humbled, and at the same time so wonderfully exalted, by his growing knowledge of human nature and his increasing confidence in his fellow beings. The change, however, was so great and sudden, that he was as one who walked in dreams. Nor was he fully awak- ened and conscious of the substantial reality until the honest Vonberg and his cordial family reminded him that he was to accompany them home to breakfast. rMMiili lull II t -■■!•■ .u-*> '. . . ■ — ' ■»- ■ mmm. '^m '^ff r" Twi'T'^Ji "'i^r^^Tt ' •I of business ■>,,■ ..:• . 1- _ ,..i r for these he ice and self respect of po\'erty machinery as seen in no longer hundering of h'fe was ere was a > veins — ^a to Boston dump his n so prof- y exalted, increasing I, that he lly awak- lie honest le was to CHAPTER XIX. UNDBR COVKR AGAIN. Fresh from the bath, and clad in a nobby suit, Don sat at the table of his host on equal terms with all the members of the honest and cheerful family. No dregs of humiliation were mixed with the cup of his satisfaction. The Vonbergs placed the burden of obligation upon themselves and not upon him, and without affectation treated him with a respect that was inspired, not so much by his recovery of their property, nor by the change in his appearance, as by his easy self possession and intelligent measurement of the whole situation. Their respect for him increased their pleasure, for, being generous in their dispositions, they rejoiced to know that they were to have a part in the improvement of his fortunes. At the close of the happy meal, Don said to the parental Vonberg: "Now, if you will allow me, I will bundle up my old clothes so that they may be given to the first ragman that comes along, then I shall have the pleasure of thinking that they, in course of time, will be sharers of my change for the better by being turned into something useful." "Dey vas pundled alretty, so dot you vas hafe no more potter mit dem; und soon dot ragman vas pe habby because he vas get dem vor noddins." "But I should like to save the hat, Mr. Vonberg." "Safe dot hat! Mein gracious gootness, Mr. Donalds! >.:.'lt'S.> ^ ?-*.< :> ^r5#:^^ ly^BPW^ y B W' J!'"'-' """" ' i 'J ""' ' ■ g ' ' -;»yught the it in new e ribbon, iindhouse e to keep jnan who ealc who Dorothy ter, you enough hat that already >e shure yen you do^ you vasn't as, und street, stock, y/hich included almost everything suitable to the exterior respectability of male humanity from a shoe lacing up to valise and trunk supplies. The two sons, Werner and Wilhelm, whose names the par- ental Vonberg had borrowed from one of the masterpieces of German literature, at once entered upon their business duties, while the father personally supervised the fulfillment of the promises made to Don in the police station. Besides filling a capacious brass-bound trunk with clothes and furnishings suit- able to the needs and tastes of a respectable boy, he measured Don for a custom made suit of clothing, which was extra to the contract. "Now vare vas you hafe your paggage sent?*' Vonberg asked when he had snapped the spring lock of the trunk to its close. "Shall it go to dot blace vare you sleeps mit der stone last night? Nein! You vas go straight to dot little vidder und her son und dells dem dot you vas poard mit dem some more. Und ven dot baper vas come dis efening you vas reat all about yourself und dose Vonpergs, whose broperty you hafe safe, und whose store you hafe entered vor a glerk. The express vagon is at der south door to dake you mit your paggage, und you vas come here next Montay vor duty." While Don is on his way back to the widow's family let us connect the thread of events. Bert had employed every moment that he could spare to discover the hiding place of his lost chum, and he had enlisted the sympathies and secured the assistance, not only of the colonel, but many others who need not be mentioned. Thinking that his friend might possibly have shipped on board some vessel bound for the vicinity of his home, Bert would have written a letter of inquiry to Don's father had he not been prevented by the maturer wisdom of Mrs. Williams, I :4 ■I 192 AIR CASTLE DON who feared that such a letter might only cause alarm to the family. It was well that he was restrained, for all the while that Don was in the wilderness his parents supposed that he was in the book store. The gap in his correspondence was laid to the preoccupation of his thoughts by the novelties and excite- ments of city life. That he should be too proud and resoluie to advise with them in case of need or distress was a thing they had not thought of, for it not infrequently happens that boys and girls are as little understood by their families as if they were ducks hatched in a hen's nest. On the very morning that Don's fortunes were so oppor- tunely resurrected from beneath the Copp's Hill tombstone, Bert was pluckily iioping and plaiming for- hi!> restoration to their attic comradeship. "I'll not give up yet," he said to his mother after breakfast. "Put me up a pocket lunch so that I can spend my noon hour searching for him among the machine shops and foundries of the South Side. We went over there once to see the Globe Iron Works, and while we were going through them Don pulled me up in front of a new locomotive and said, that the mechanics who could put together such work as that, were doing better and greater work than ever old Vulcan did when he made the war shield for Achilles. He was so enthusiastic over what he saw that he declared that if he had to begin again he. would try to get into a machine shop even though he had to begin by shovelling ashes and sleeping under a machine bench. He may be doing this very thing and keeping himself low till he can get himself into shape again." And inspired by his hopes, Bert pocketed his lunch and tripped away whistling so loudly upon the street that a police- ■iW If im'i ' ii ■ ww^im » ^ » y^ f[mm ^\ ■ . irT7»T»M^j|j|g>^p| AIR 0A8TLB DON ■ .1 i9ig'p,|(|jijyB5#'|W w f^fjis 198 man with a sensitive ear curtly commanded him to pull in his lips. But Nora was in no mood for whistling, or the indulgence of any of its girlish equivalents. She had conscientiously applied all her Bible threats to Miss Agincourt for intei'- meddling with Don's business, and had just as scrupulously appropriated all the promises to herself for being such a champion of his character, but without deriving much comfort from either process. "Mother," she said, as soon as Bert had closed the door behind him, "I meet that slanderous old maid almost every day, and the more I frown at her, the more she smiles at me. What's the use of the threats and promises, that you say will right all things at last, if she's to keep on smiling and I'm to keep on crying? And the worst of it is, I have prayed every morning and every night for the Lord to bring Don back to us and it doesn't do any more good than if I were to try to raise flowers upon the pavement of the streets. If you knew where Don was, and I were to ask you about him, you wouldn't keep me in the dark; and I think that the Lord ought to be as good as my mother. The first thing you know I shall be a heretic and an unbeliever, and will be going off to hear Theodore Parker, just like other wicked people." "Nora, Nora!" exclaimed her mother greatly shocked to hear such unwonted things from her daughter's lips. "You are bordering close upon blasphemy." Alarmed by her mother's expression of horror, Nora fled to her room and endeavored to expiate her sin by praying and confessing depths of iniquity she had never been guilty of and by forming resolutions she could never perform. While she was thus futilely engaged, an express wagon rattled up to the front of the house, and immediately afterward there came a :i ry ' >' '' Mfff j! W^|f?¥T^'?!^ IM AIR OASTLB DON ■^ y: vigorous pull at the bell. Curiosity overmastering devotion, Nora arose from her knees with more haste than solemnity, and opened her door just in time to hear her mother say in the hall below: "Thank God, you are safe, Don !" "Yes, safe as a steeple, and back again like a bad penny," was the characteristic reply she heard. Rushing headlong down the stairs she gained such an impetus by the time she reached the hall, that Don, to prevent her from running against something harder than himself, caught her in his arms, and then to reward himself for his forethought, kissed her warrnly before he released her again. "You have been crying, Nora," he said, as she drew back from him like a startled bird. "What has troubled you?" Beginning to realize that she had made a revelation of her- self in more ways than one her blood tingled from head to feet and her face was an aurora of changing colors. Seeing how well dressed he was, she plunged into another conP'ct of thought and feeling which made her breath come and go in short quick gasps. "Oh, Don!" she pitifully exclaimed, "it wasn't you I saw on the Common in that awful state. You didn't run away from me, did you?" As she looked steadily into his face for an answer, she noticed how wan and worn he looked, and saw that traces of his wound still remained upon his cheek. "Yes," she said, "it was you, and you did run away from me. How could you do it, when we were all so anxious about yon?" Beginning to understand how g^eat. a cloud he had cast over the widow and her children by not confiding in them more, he humbly replied: "Give me time and I will explain everything, and when I have done that you will not blame me. > ■>'*^^^-'li f devotion, solemnity, ' say in the ad penny," d such. an to prevent m himself, lelf for his her again, drew back you?" ion of her- lead to feet iceing how conP'ct of and go in a I saw on iway from iswer, she traces of she said, could you had cast in them explain lame me. AIR 0A8TLB DON 195 But I cannot explain just now — it is too long a story. And, besides, I must attend to business first. Is my attic still vacant? Will you tike me to board again?" "Take you?" said the little mother, smiling through her tears. "You do not know how much we have missed you, and how we have grieved over you! Bert will be almc'>t beside himself when he comes home and finds that ^ou arc safe and well. You shall have our room, and Nora and I will move up into the attic." "Guess not," said Don, bluntly. "If you knew how I have longed to get back to that attic, you wouldn't talk about pack- ing me into any other room and cutting me off from Bert. I shall not wait for your permission, but will take possession as if I were lord of the manor." "Come here. Brassy," he went on, addressing his new and glittering trunk, "it is time for you to be climbing up in the world." He made an attempt to life the trunk to his shoulder, but in his weakened state he was unequal to the burden and he protestingly consented to let Nora and her mother assist him in the task. "Thank Heaven 1 Here I am again!" he said after entering the room. "But who has been here?" he suddenly asked, after noticing that several improvements had been made in the arrangements. "Nobody but Nora and Bert," the widow replied. "They have always said that you would come back, and so they have worked at the room more or less every day to make it more attractive for you." "And all the while I have been saying to myself, they will soon forget that there was ever such a person as Don Donalds," said Don. Forget 1" exclaimed Nora indignantly. "You must have Z~£^ "•■IS t:-j3%-SI 196 AIR CASTLE DON Strange ideas about friendship. Why didn't you come to us while you had those awful clothes on and while your wound needed care? You look thin and worn, and I solemnly believe that you have been in the worst kind of trouble. I didn't think that you would be so mean as to stay away from us when you needed us most. Why didn't you come before? "Well, the fact is, I was ''tnting for a streak of luck, and as I did not find it until last nig , I could not very well get here before this morning." "Where were you last night?" "Under a tombstone, where I found my luck. You may read all about it in the Evening Transcript, and when you have done that, I'll not object to any question you may see fit to ask." "Under a tombstone — and in the paper!" and Nora caught at the words as if they contained some dreadful secret. "Wait till Bert comes home to dinner," pleaded Don; who was really too much exhausted to undergo the ordeal of relat- ing the harrow'ng details of his recent experiences without first bracing himsvlf up for it. "He will not be home to dinner," said Nora. "He took a lunch with him, so that he might search for you among the South Boston machine shops and foundries during his noon hour. He has searched for you almost every day since I saw you on the Common, and has grown thin worrying about you." All along, since his return to the house, Don had been keeping a tight rein upon his f^-elings; now they broke bounds, and his self possession forsook him entirely. His head seemed to be floating away from him, and he had only strength enough left to say brokenly: "Please leave me until I cart collect myself, for I am worn out," Frightened more by the sight of his tears than by hints of >A. s-'iiS. ;^-.; ':iy^l lfU.|l^«|P||l I i AIR CASTI.E DON m come to us your wound I solemnly trouble. I way from us before? uck, and as veil get here You may en you have ay see lit to Nora caught cret. :d Don; who deal of relat- ices without "He took a i among the tig his noon since I saw about you." •n had been oke bounds, lead seemed igth enough cart collect by hints of his adventures, Nora begged forgiveness, and with her mother left the room. They had no sooner gone than Don threw himself upon the bed and fell into a profound slumber which lasted till evening. Haunted by vague apprehensions the little mother repeatedly went to him but finding him asleep each time did not disturb him, while Nora wandered about the house impatiently waiting for the evening papers, and for her brother, who, she was certain, wo.Md dispel the clouds that darkened her thoughts. Meanwhile, curiosity was rampant at the Covert house. When the express wagon reached the widow's door, Miss Agincourt, who was addicted to that uncanny habit of per- verted natures, nail-biting, sat at her window gratifying her appetite for herself by nibbling at her finger nails with as much avidity as if they were bonbons. Ceasing from her feast she seized her lorgnette and leveled it upon Don and his new trunk. Here was a trial for her faith — for her confident belief in Don's downfall. Impatiently taking a gormandizing bite at her right thumbnail, which already resembled a mutilated duck-bill, she hurried down stairs to confer with the kindred souls of Covert and his wife. "That Donalds boy is back again," ohe said, petulantly, and jerking her head and twisting her lips for emphasis; "and what is very strange, he has a big new trunk with him and is more stylishly dressed than he ever was before." Assuming an air of the most disinterested solicitude, Mrs. Covert replied: "If his fortunes have changed he should have come back to us, for I am sure that his brothers would not approve of his boarding on the other side of the Square," Nettled to think that her envy was not directly approved, Miss Agincourt resorted to insinuation, her favorite weapon, saying: "It is more than likely that his brothers are content w 196 AIR 0A8TLB DON 1% m' to let him keep out of sight. While they were here they never so much as mentioned his name. I hope that my old bachelor uncle has not been wasting any more money upon him." By this last remark she exposed the secret of her hos- tility to Don; expecting legacies in the event of the colonel's death, she was morbidly jealous of every one to whom he happened to take a fancy. "The widow is using her imp of a daughter as a bait for a boarder," said Covert, contemptuously. And thus the whole- some trio continued for some time to interpret the widow's and Don's affairs by the little fire-bug lights they carried under their own wings. t^-^vj^lh, .^■>*-;S .4.r.:*\Ci-.^- ■*'- '■"•*■■" ■ ■^■'^'*^' ■* ; here they :hat my old loncy upon of her hos- he colonel's } whom he a bait for a I the whole- ividow's and rried under CHAPTER XX. A QUBRR TEMPTATION. When Bert returned he burst into the liouie like a besom flourishing an evening paper around his head so triumphantly it was on the verge of being reduced to tatters, Before he could open his mouth to express his torrid excitement, Nora unwittingly increased it by telling him that Don was in the attic. Throwing the paper into his mother's lap, and without stopping to heed her remonstrances against intruding upon Don's slumbers, he ran up the stairs as if his feet were winged like those of Mercury and entered the room without ceremony. The riot of his joy was suddenly checked when he looked upon the face of his chum, it was so changed by the m.arks his trials had left upon it. Seeing that he did not stir, and prompted by an ungovernable longing, Bert sat upon the edge of the bed and leaning over threw his left arm around Don. "Wake up! Wake up, you everlasting good for nothing scamp!' he exclaimed with feelings that were quiveringly at variance with the letter of his words. "Scampi" The words pierced the sleeper's dull senses like a splinter, and forthwith he was thrown into a long compli- cated nightmare of congested misfortunes through which he fell into abysmal depths with the velocity of lightning, while hoarse echoes accused him of being a lost and irredeemable vagabond and 'scamp.' (199) UtimiMmiiJiumimmdliiiiltim iii mmmft i, » Li i M] i i..M i y. iii | i iiij i ii,«iiji.iiL j tj i iM ii ;^iJi|^y ' 200 Ain CA8TLE DON The horror of that descent so stirred his chain-botind facul- ties that by a supreme convulsion of energy he seized the >'dge of a projecting crag, and with a long drawn sigh of infinite relief climbed back into daylight and a bright world again. Seeing Bert's eyes, within a foot of his own, glimmering through unmistakable tears, and finding that his own heart was puffing up like an airy bubble ready to vanish into nothing again he stretched forth his arms, saying brokenly: "Let's have a hug, old fellow." When that sacred act was over, he arose with something of his former springiness, and after plunging his face into cold water and drying it again, he, with towel still in hand, stood looking at Bert as mutely as though his tongue had melted and slipped down his throat. "Well!" he finally articulated, "how are you, you awful boy?" It was not much of a speech, yet it was enough to let the steam on, and after it their tongues went ahead like a pair of linked locomotives. "If I were able," Bert began, "I would take hold of you and shake you around this room worse than you ever shook that Phillips and Sampson boy around that bookstore." "Yes, shake him," interrupted Nora, bursting into the room just in time to hear the shake part of the sentence, "but in addition b*" ought to be scourged forty times save one. "Whom would you save the one for?" asked Don, reflecting the exultation and joy that shone so brightly in her countenance. "For myself," she retorted quickly, and it ought to be as heavy as all the rest put together, for allowing myself to tor- ment you with my giddy and impertinent questions when you were all worn out. But, Oh, Don, after all, I couldn't help it, could I?" ■tt Ain CASTLE DON 201 "Let's "I rather think not, seeing that you are a girl," he replied, laughing in spite of his endeavor to keep sober. She had the evening paper in her hand; she had rapidly read the sympathetic reporter's succinct yet graphic account of Don's adventures, and was so tossed between conflicting feel- ings and conjectures that she became incoherent the moment she undertook to express herself. Having made several futile attempts to get at the things that lay between the printed lines, she was impatiently inter- rupted by her brother, who was himself eager to ask a thous- and questions more or less. "Now, Gipsy," he said, calling her by the name that he himself had fastened upon her, "please put a padlock upon your mouth for a season. A little pitcher like you ought to be seen and not heard — at least not until the bigger one has had its say. I am going to call Don to a strict account for his 'sins and transgressions,' as you are fond of saying when you wish to whip either of us around a stump. If there is anything left after I get through you can pick it up and handle it as you please. "But in the first place, let me tell him what a picnic I had this afternoon. I was behind the counter feeling as glum as an apple paring that has lost its insides, when Mr. Ticknor called me into the counting room and handed me the paper containing the account of 'Don Donald's Resurrection,' and 'His Debut in the Role of a Detective.' Mr. Ticknor had become interested in the mystery of your fate, and in my attempts to solve it, and when he gave me the paper and told me to take time to read the flaming local, his eyes were rather watery, though his lips were doing their best to smile. "Before I had time to finish the story, the colonel came swinging in looking as if he had just closed the Mexican War. I I ^ •aiimm Ml HJimjumMiODiBI Wi m : t m^fmm 202 ilili!ii^-^'^''^s;f?:^pP AIR CASTLE DON He, too, had been reading about that tombstone business and had brought a paper over for me to read. Finding that I was already deep in the story, he and Mr. Ticknor began to talk and laugh rejoicingly over your coming to life again. "The upshot of it was, they packed me down to Brattle street to see how much of the story was true. When I got there, that old Mr. Vonberg had just got through reading about you and himself and was so excited that he deluged me with a perfect flood of broken lingo from which, however, I was able to make out that everything the reporter wrote was true. When he said that you had gone straight to the widow's house after leaving his store, I should have blubbered if I had not braced myself up by saying that you was an idiot for not having gone there before. He objected strongly to that view of your conduct, and nonplussed me by saying that if you had not made your bed under a gravestone, his family would not have recovered their property, nor would the robbers have been brought to Justin Although he has a broken tongue, he has a long head, and judging from what he said, he has taken a strong fancy to you on your own account. "When I got back to the store, Mr. Ticknor was reading your adventures to Grace Greenwood and Ralph Waldo Emerson, who had happened in during my absence. I made my report, and then you ought to have heard the chattering they did, and all about you. Mr. Emerson told me to give you his sincere compliments, and to say to you for him that hereafter you must take for your motto, 'Nil Desperandum.' And lest I should get the motto wrong end foremost, he repeated it and explained it. The others said such a message from such a man was as much as I could carry at one time. But they wanted me to let you know that they all said, ditto. "So there you are, old fellow, with your name in the papers - ^'''' -$')'••: tttUmmtm uy i Hiiyj^jupf iji^ siness and that I was an to talk n. to Brattle hen I got ;h reading eluged me lowever, I wrote was le widow's jd if I had lot for not 1 that view if you had would not >bers have ;n tongfue, id, he has as reading ?h Waldo ;. I made chattering ne to give r him that )erandum.' •emost, he a message one time, said, ditto, the papers [■ H I— y y)j » !i]H i'i r i AIR CASTLE DON 203 in good style, and in the hearts of people who are worth having for friends, and next week you will be in Vonberg's store as big as life, taking your first lessons in selling the outward signs of respectability. "Upon the whole I am almost glad you started for the West, though I must still protest that if you had gone as far as that awful Chicago, it would have been the total end of you. I should be willing to go as far as Albany myself if I could come out of the big end of the horn as you have." "God forbid that you should ever be as I have been !" said Don fervently, shuddering at the bare recollection of the anguish he had endured. They were interrupted by the tea bell, and Bert did not get an opportunity to reach the lash of his intention till quite late in the evening. After tea they were surprised by a call from the colonel, who said: "I did not think of coming when we sent our compliments from Ticknor's; but after I got away from business I became strongly desirous of seeing what a resurrected boy looks like. You do not appear to be quite as rugged as you were when I last saw you. Still, you look quite substantial for one who has graduated from beneath a grave stone." "There is enough of me left to make another start," said Don, "although I must confess that I feel as if I had passed through a very grave crisis." "Of course — of course," the colonel responded, smilingly. "And hearing you speak so gravely of making another start reminds me to tell j ou that you have fallen into the hands of one of my best friends, and a Teuton of the first water. Mr. Vonberg was the major of my regiment; a braver soldier never went into battie, and a kinder man never came out of one. The sons are chips of the old block, and the firm is one i i»' II I .) j i ui| i | W« miMM» l li»l|Jl l fc l lll«HJ] ■' tV ' i ? g" H iii | ii HH j » ; i ! i lii B.ii.JMJ AIR CASTLE DON of the best in Boston. I am going around to see him this evening, and I shall take care that his good impression of you suffers nothing from my visit. "But before I go there I shall call upon my niece, Arabella. She swears — if she ever swears at all — by the Evening Tran- script, from which she has doubtless learned by this time that you were not born to be trampled into the mire. If she has not learned this much I shall try to open her understanding by droppin" a little oil upon the hinges of her mind." And the peculiar emphasis he threw into his words left the impres- sion upon the boys that his lubrications would not be drawn from that oil of gladness the prophet speaks of. When the colonel entered the Covert house he found his niece holding the Transcript in her lap as if it were a pet cat or pug, although her countenance was far from being the epi- tome of satisfaction that such a burden is supposed to inspire. She had read Don's adventures with decidedly mixed emo- tions; indeed, she was trying to navigate herself between Scylla and Charybdis; in other words, she was in a strait betwixt her animosities and her sympathies. She had nearly concluded that it was better co depart — from her animosities, and to be — with her sympathies; for, to do her justice, the thick powder on her face had not entirely smothered the higher sensibilities of her nature. "Ah, I see that you have been reading about Don," said the colonel, looking at her with such a penetrating glance that she instinctively let her eyelids droop. "Yes, I have read that extraordinary story, but I doubt its truth." "Oh, of course! You doubt everything that runs counter to your prejudices. I take especial pleasure in informing you that every word of that account is true; the only fault to be Pf pm «■ AIR CASTLE DON 205 him this on of you Arabella, ing Tran- time that f she has Tstanding d." And le impres- be drawn found his : a pet cat g the epi- to inspire, ixed emo- f between n a strait lad noarly tiimosicies, iistice, the the higher )on," said [lance that '. doubt its is counter •ming you ault to be found with it is that the half has not been told. I have called to say to you that if hereafter you interfere with him in any way I shall cut you off from my will with a shilling." Arabella was on intimate terms with the Vonbergs, and she understood that her uncle's visit was intended to anticipate her in any possible adverse influence she might wield over that amiable family. His threat led her to swift repentance, and she became precipitately forward to promise all manner of good concerning her future relations to Don. The colonel went on to the Vonbergs chuckling over the success of his missionary efforts. But while he was smoking a pipe with his old comrade in arms, and discussing Don's adventures and character, he took good care to inform the major oi his niece's failings and to warn him against her prejudices. "She was the means of his leaving our store," he said, bitterly, "and the direct cause of all his suffering. The old cat has promised not to touch the bird again, but as easy promises do not often change a hard nature, I am determined that she shall not have another chance to strike her claws into him." "If she vas drife him to dot gravestone I vas hafe to thank her vor saiing our broperty, und den I vas tell her she needn't do dot some more," said the major with a grave face, yet twinkling eyes. Dorothy listened to the conversation, and thinking that her father's levity was ill-timed, she heatedly said: "If Arabella says anything against that boy here, she will get into hot water." "Und dot vill be goot vor her gomblection," he responded while placidly watching a circle of smoke he had just blown from his lips. "I see that the trial of those burglars is to begin to-morrow 206 AIR OASTLB DON - ir it I r. * morning," said the colonel, "and I suppose you will all have to go into court as witnesses. I should like to attend myself, for it is likely to prove amusing as well as interesting." The trial was interesting beyond all expectation, and the lawyer who defended the robbers indulged in a piece of legal jugglery that almost upset the gravity of Judge Russell, who was the husband of one of Father Taylor's daughters, a regular attendant at the Mariners' Church, and who was quite well acquainted with Don's antecedents before he made his unfor- tunate trip to Albany. The lawyer's defence was intended chiefly to secure a mitigation of sentence. And the theory of his side included the assumption that Don was himself an accomplice of the burglars, and that the other two, supposing that they heard the approach of a policeman in the cemetery, fled incontinently, leaving the plunder with Don, who, being the most hardened of the three, was not so easily alarmed. It was also assumed that, while escaping with the plunder, he saw a policeman apparently following him, and, thereupon to secure himself, turned into the station with it, and there related an impromptu story accounting for the bag being in his pos- session. From the evidence elicited from Don concerning his wanderings and night experiences, he tried to build up a claim that he was nothing but a vagabond with such a surplus of smartness as would naturally make him a precocious criminal of the first water. Arabella being present, instead of being astounded by this ingenious piece of sophistry, really began to hope that it would prove true. Don perspired in helpless amazement at this aspect of the case, while Bert, who sat at his side, laughed so openly that the court officer was compelled to punch him into sobriety. f w f ^ i g ' njit ' i ■WAIV/'W !^'^!!^ AIR OASTLB DON 207 The defence was so weak it fell at th'^ first breath of the prosecutor, and the burglars were sentenced to fifteen years in the penitentiary. Don had often, in his air castle moods, aspired iu appear in print. Two pin-feathered poems of his had been published in a weekly paper when he was at an age in which most boys are content if they are quit of petticoats and pinafores. He was now in print to his heart's content, for as both local and general news was scarce, the reporters made the most of all the circumstances connected with his case. He was, indeed, beginning to feel uneasy in the glare of publicity, and fre- quently reminded himself of Peter Piper's warnings against trying to mount the airy ladder which only angels can ascend or descend with safety or comfort. Bert, with vindictive gusto, replied to his self depreciating fears by saying: "But just think what a torment it must be for that tallow-faced Deacon Wickworth and that peppermint- eating Arabella to see the kind things that have been said of you in the city papers. It's as good as if their chairs had been stuck full of big pins. You will go into the Vonberg store with flying colors, and that will be worse than fire and brim- stone to the small cannibal souls that would have made roast meat of you." When Don reported for duty at the store he was handed a package of forty-one fat letters, the largerpart of which were addressed in feminine handwriting. The package had been accumulating ever since the morning following the publica- tion of the Copp's Hill incident. Although greatly surprised at this influx of correspondence and curious to know what it meant, he would have laid the letters by till after businses hours had not the major insisted upon his taking time to give them his immediate attention. ' t*' ---"'- ■;-'ii"-~'»