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Thai) shall TINU whici Maps differ entire begin right requii methi 26X 30X ^/ 12X 16X 20X MX 28X 32X e 6tails IS du lodifier r une Image irrata to pelure, n d D 32X The copy filmed here has been reproduced thanks to the generosity of: Thomai Fisher Rare Book Library, University of Toronto Library The images appearing here are the best quality possible considering the condition and legibility of the original copy and in keeping with the filming contract specifications. Original copies in printed paper covers are filmed beginning with the front cover and ending on the last page with a printed or illustrated impres- sion, or the back cover when appropriate. Ail other original copies are filmed beginning on the first page with a printed or illustrated impres- sion, and ending on the last page with a printed or illustrated impression. The last recorded frame on each microfiche shall contain the symbol —^- (meaning "CON- TINUED"), or the symbol V (meaning "END"), whichever applies. 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Tous les autres exemplaires originaux sont filmds en commencant par la premiere page qui comporte une empreinte d'impression ou d'illustration et en terminant par la dernidre page qui comporte une talle empreinte. Un des symboles suivants apparaitra sur la dernidre image de cheque microfiche, selon le cas: le symbole -^^ signifie "A SUIVRE", le symbole V signifie "FIN". Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent dtre filmis d des taux de reduction diff6rents. Lorsque le document est troo grand pour etre reproduit en un seul clich6, il est film6 A partir de Tangle sup^rieur gauche, de gauche d droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'imaqes nicessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la m^thode. 1 2 3 4 5 6 The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, BY MARK TWAIN. "Tom Brown" and "Tom Bailey" are, among boys, in books, alone deserving to be named with " Tom Sawyer."— Atlantic Monthly. Old Times on the Mississippi, BY MARK TWAIN. " We must express our sense if their delicious humour, truthful local delineation, and original insights, of which we couid the ' ^y judge^ from personal reminiscences of our c^ ildhood in the Mississippi Y&\\eyJ"—Canadiai -. slra'ed News. - For sale by all booksellers, on trains, or mailed post paid on receipt of price, by ROSE-BELFOIID PUBLISHING CO., 60 YORK STREET, TORONTO. AN IDLE EXCUESION. ll(f^fnr^'^^ 7 r i^iyu ' i J ;f. BY MARK TWAIN, AITIIOK OK "ADVENTT'RKS OF TOM SAWYER," "OLD TIMES ON TUB MISSISHIPPI," " INNOCRNTS ABROAD," F!TC. ROSE.BELFORD PUBLISHING COMPANY. MDCCCLXXVIII. ^ ivui/ 10 1968 '»; :;* ^ ■J '.'■...kti.i.-.-f.-i.:. ,.j, .— .■..:i4J.J.a..L.tk^i,...--,.-^:, -iili iMfiili ^itUtlltt mm ■■•■ ■^l i AN IDLE EXCURSION. 21 do, you want to heave her down for repairs, — ikaUB the result ! Well, sir, she hain't been down a week till you can heave a dog through her seams. You send that ves- sel to sea, and what's the result ? She wets her oakum the first trip ! Leave it to any man if 't ain't so. Well, you let our folks build you a vessel — down New Bedford way. What's the result ? Well, sir, you might take that ship and heave her down, and keep her hove down six months, and she'll never shed a tear ! " Everybody, landsmen and all, recognised the descrip- tive neatness of that figure, and applauded, which greatly pleased the old man. A moment later, the meek eyes of the pale young fellow heretofore mentioned came up slowly, rested upon the old man's face a moment, and the meek mouth began to open. " Shet your head ! " shouted the old mariner. It was a rather startling surprise to everybody, but it was eft'ective in the matter of its purpose. So the conver- sation flowed on instead of perishing. r There was some talk about the perils of the sea, and a landsman delivered himself of the customary nonsense about the poor mariner wandering in far oceans, tempest- tossed, pursued by dangers, every storm blast and thunder- bolt in the home skies moving the friends by snug firesides to compassion for that poor mariner, and prayers for his succour. Captain Bowling put up with this for a while, and then burst out with a new view of the matter. " Come, belay there ! I have read this kind of rot all my life in poetry and tales and such like rubbage. Pity for the poor mariner 1 sympathy for the poor mariner ! All right enough, but not in the way the poetry puts it. - B 22 AN IDLE EXCUKHION. Pity for the mariner's wife ! all right a«,fain, but not in the way the poetry puts it. Look-a-here ! whose life's the safest in the whole world i Tlie poor mariners. You look at the statistics, you'll see. So don't you fool away any sympathy on the poor mariner's dangers and priva- tions and sufferings. Leave tliat to the poetry nmtis. Now you look at the other side a minute. Here is Cap- tain Brace, forty years old, been at sea thirty. On his way now to take command of his ship and sail south from Bermuda. Next week he'll be under way : easy times, comfortable quarters ; passengers, sociable company ; just enough to do to keep his mind healthy and not tire him ; king over his ship, boss of everything and everybody ; thirty years' safety to learn him that his profession ain't a dangerous one. Now you look back atj^his home. His wife's a feeble woman ; she's a stranger in New York ; shut up in blazing hot or freezing cold lodgings, according to the season ; don't know anybody hardly ; no company but her lonesomeness and her thoughts ; husband gone six months at a time. She has borne eight children ; live of them she has buried without her husband ever setting eyes on them. She watched them alFthe long'nights till they died, — he comfortable on the sea ; she followed them to the grave, she heard t'^e ciods fall that broke her heart, — he comfortable on the sea ; she mourned at home, weeks and weeks, missing them every day and every hour, — he cheerful at sea knowing nothing about it. Now look at it a minute, — turn it over in vour mind and size it : five children born, she among strangers, and him not by to hearten her ; buried, and him not by to comfort her ; think of that ! Sympathy for the poor mariner's perils is AN IDLE EXCURSION. 28 rot ; givo it to his wife's hard lines, where it belongs ! Poetry makes out that all the wife worries about is the danger her husband's running. She's got substantialer things to worry over, I tell you. Poetry's always pitying the poor mariner on account of his perils at sea ; better a blamed sight pity him for the nights ho can't sleep for thinking of how he had to leave his wife in her very birth pains, lonesome and friendless, in the thick of disease and trouble and death. If there's one thing that can make me madder than another, it's this sappy, damned maritime poetry ! " Captain Brace was a patient, gentle, seldom-speaking man, with a pathetic something in his bronzed face that had been a mystery up to this time, but stood interpreted now, since we had heard his story. He had voyaged eighteen times to the Mediterranean, seven times to India, once to the Arctic pole in a discovery ship, and " between times " had visited all the remote seas and ocean corners of the globe. But he said that twelve years ago, on account of his family, he " settled down," and ever since then had ceased to roam. And what do you suppose was this simple-hearted, life-long wanderer's idea of settling down and ceasing to roam ? Why, the making of two five- month voyages a year between Surinam and Boston for sugar and molasses. Among other talk, to-day, it came out that whale-ships carry no doctor. The captain adds the doctorship to his own duties. He not only gives medicines, but sets broken limbs after notions of his own, or saws them off and sears the stump when amputation seems best. T^e captain is provided with a medicine chest, with the medicines num- 24 AN IDLE EXCURSION. berod instead of named. A book of directionH goes with this. It descri))es diseases and symptoms, and says, " Give a tcaspoonful of No. 9 once an hour," or *' Give teri grains of No. 12 every half-hour," etc. One of our sen- captains came across a skipper in the North Paciilo who was in a state of great surprise and perplexity. S./i 1 he : " There's something rotten about this niudicine-chest business. One of my men was sick, — nothing much the matter. I looked in the book : it said, give him a tea- spoonful of No. 15. I went to the medicine-chest, and I see I was out of No. 15. I judged I'd got to get ^up a combination somehow that would fill the bill ; so I hove into the fellow L.dl'a teaspoonful of No. 8 and half a tea- flpoonful of No. 7, and I'll be hanged if it didn't kill him in fifteen minutes ! There's something about this medi- cine-chest system that's too many for me ! " There was a good deal of pleasant gossip about old Captain " Hurricane '' Jones, of the Pacific Ocean, — peace to his ashes ! Two or three of us present had known him ; I, particularly, well, for I had T»:fidt> four sea- voyages with him. He u as a very remP"kiih!<. rian. !^T > ^^^j bom in a ship ; he picked up wl '".. uie education he had among his shipmates ; he began life in the forecastle, and climbed grade by grade to the captaincy. More than fifty vears of his sixty-five were spent at sea. He had sailed Jl , seans, jcen all lands, and borrowed a tint from all dimates. When a man has been fifty years at sea, he jieeessarily knows nothing of men, nothing of the world but its surface, nothing of the world's thought, nothing of the world's learning but its A. B. C, and that blurred and/ distorted by the unfocused lenses of an untrained mind. \. AS IDLE KXCURSTON. i Sucli a man iy only a gray and bc^ardod child This is wliat old Hurricane JoncH whs, — simply an iuiit v nt, lov* able old infant. When his spirit was in rep, le in a fight, for he \ as ot oweii^'ul build and dauntless coiragc He was frcscoeifl h* n head to heel with picturt ^ and mottoes tatooedwi re ojkI blue India ink. I was u th him one voyage wIkjd gut his last vacant space tat roocd ; this vacant spa^ >vas around his left ankle, durin ; three days he stumped n »ut the ship with his ankle bare and 8woll(m, and this 1( id gleaming red and angry out from a cloudinjji of Indiji k. : " Virtue is its own R'd." (There was a laick of rin i.) He was deeply and sincerely | 'ious, and swore like at woman. He considered sw aring blameless, becav_^ sailors would not understand an order unillumined by i4. He was a }irofound Biblical scliolar, — that is, he thought he was. He believed everything in the Bible, but he had his own methods of arriving at his beliefs. He was of the "advanced " school of think '^rs, and applied natural laws to the interpretation of all miracles, somewhat on the plan of the people who make the six days of creation six geological epochs, and so forth. Without being aware of it, he was a rather severe satirt- on modern scientific religionists. Such a man as I have been describing is rabidly fond of disquisition and argument; one knows that without being told it. One trip the captain had a clergyman on board, but did not know he was a clergyman, since the passenger list did not betray the fact. He took a great liking to this 26 AN IDLE EXCURSION. Rev. Mr. Peters, and talked with hini a great deal : told him yarns, gave him toothsome scraps of personal history, and wove a glittering streak of profanity through his garrulous fabric that was refreshing to a spirit weary of the dull neutralities of undecorated speech. One day the captain said, " Peters, do you ever read the Bible ?" "Well— yes." " I judge it ain't often, by the way you say it. Now, you tackle it in dead earnest once, and you '11 find it '11 pay. Don't you get discouraged, but hang right on. First, you won't understand it ; but by and by, things will begin to clear up, and then you wouldn't lay it down to eat." " Yes, I have heard that said." " And it's so, too. There ain't a book that begins with it. It lays over 'em all, Peters. There's some pretty tough things in it, — there ain't any getting around that, — but you stick to them and think them out, and when once you get on the inside everything's plain as day." " The miracles, too captain ? " "Yes, sir ! the miracles, too. Every one of them. Now, there's that business with the prophets of Baal ; like enough that stumped you ? " " Well, I don't know, but "— " Own up, now ; it stumped you. Well, I don't wonder. You hadn't had any experience in raveling such things out, and naturally it was too many for you. Would you like to have me explain that thing to you, and show you how to get at the meat of these matters ?" " Indeed, I would, captain, if you don't mind." Then the captain proceeded as follows : " I'll do it with y. AN IDLE EXCURSION. 27 \ pleasure. First, you see, I read and read, and thought and thought, till I got to understand what sort of people they were in the old Bible times, and then after that it was all clear and easy. Now, this was the way I put it up, concerning Isaac* and the prophets of Baal. There was some mighty sharp men amongst the public characters of that old ancient day, and Isaac was one of them. Isaac had his failings, — plenty of them, too ; it ain't for me to apologize for Isaac ; he played it on the prophets of Baal, and like enough he was justifiable considering the odds that was against him. No, all I say is, 'twa'iit any mira- cle, and that I'll show you so's't you can see it yourself. " Well, times had. been getting rougher and rougher for prophets, — thatis, prophets of Isaac's denomination. There was four hundred and fifty prophets of Baal in the com- munity, and only one Presbyterian ; that is, if Isaac was a Presbyterian, which I reckon he was, but it don't say. Naturally, the prophets of Baal took all the trade. Isaac was pretty low-spirited, I reckon, but he was a good deal of a man, and no doubt he went a-prophesying around, letting on to be doing a land-office business, but 't wa'nt any use; he couldn't run any opposition to amount to any- thing. By and by things got desperate with him ; he sets his head to work and thinks it all out, and then what does he do ? Why, he begins to throw out hints that the other parties are this and that and t'other, — nothing very definite, may be, but just kind of undermining their reputation in a quiet way. This made talk, of course, and finally got to the king. The king asked Isaac what he meant by his talk. Says Isaac, ' Oh, nothing particular ; only can they * This is the captain's own mistake. \ 28 AN IDLE EXCURSION. i i ', pray down fire from heaven on an altar ? It ain't much, may be, your majesty, only can they do it ? That's the idea.' So the king wns a good deal disturbed, and he went to the prophets of Baal, and they said, pretty airy, that if he liad an altar ready, they were ready ; and they intimated that he had better get it insured, too. " So next morning all the children of Israel and their parents and the other people gathered themselves together. Well, here was that great crowd of prophets of Baal packed together on one side, and Isaac walking up and down all alone on the other, putting up his job. When time was called, Isaac let on to be comfortable and indif- ferent ; told the other team to take the first innings. So they went at it, the whole four hundred and fifty, pray- ing around the altar, very hopeful, and doing their level best. They prayed an hour, — two hours, — three hours, — and so on, plumb till noon. It wa'n't any use ; they hadn't took a trick. Of course they felt kind of ashamed before all those people, and well they might. Now, what would a magnanimous man do ? Keep still, wouldn't he ? Of course. What did Isaac do ? He graveled the prophets of Baal eveiy way he could think of. Says he, ' You don't speak up loud enough ; your god's asleep, like enough, or may be he's taking a walk ; you want to holler, you know ', — or words to that effect ; I don't recollect the exact language. Mind, I don't apologize for Isaac ; he had his faults. " Well., the prophets of Baal prayed along the best they knew how all the afternoon, and never raised a spark . At last, about sundown, they were all tuckered out, and they owned up and quit. ■ i - 1 AN IDLE EXCURSION. 2& i " What does Isaac do, now ? He steps up and says to some friends of his, there, ' Pour four barrels of water on the altar !' Everybody was astonished ; for the other side prayed at it dry, you know, and got whitewashed. They poured it on. Says he, * Heave on four more barrels.' Then he says, ' Heave on four more.' Twelve bar- rels, you see, altogether. The water ran all over the altar, and all down the sides, and filled up a trench around it that would hold a couple of hogsheads, — ' measures,' it says ; I reckon it means about a hogshead. Some of the peo])le were going to put on their things and go, for they allowed he was crazy. They didn't know Isaac. Isaac knelt down and began to pray : he strung along, and strung along, about the heathen in distant lands, and about the sister churches, and about the state and the country at large, and about those that's in authority in the government, and all the usual programme, you know, till everybody had got tired and gone to thinking about something else, and then all of a sudden, when nobody was noticing, he outs with a match and rakes it on the under side of his leg, and pff ! up the whole thing blazes like a house afire ! Twelve barrels of luater ? Petroleum^ Sir, PETROLEUM ! that's what it was !" " Petroleum, captain ? " " Yes, Sir ; the country was full of it. Isaac knew all about that. You read the Bible. Don't you worry about the tough places. They ain't tough when you come to think them out and throw light on them. There ain't a thing in the Bible but what is true ; all you want is to go prayerfully to work and cipher out how 'twas done." At eight o'clock on the third morning out from New 30 AN IDLE EXCURSION. York, land was sighted. Away across the sunny waves one saw a faint dark stripe stretched along under the horizon — or pretended to see it, for the credit of his eye-sight. Even the Reverend said he saw it, a thing which was manifestly not so. But I never have seen any one who was morally strong enough to confess that he could not see land when others claimed that they could. By and by the Bermuda Islands were easily visible. The principal one lay upon the water in the distance, a long, dull-coloured body, scalloped with slight hills and valleys. We could not go straight at it, but had to travel all the way around it, sixteen miles from shore, because it is fenced with an invisible coral reef. At last we sighted buoys, bobbing here and there, and then we glided into a narrow channel among them, " raised the reef," and came upon shoaling blue water that soon further shoaled into pale green, with a surface scarcely rippled. Now came the resurrection hour: the berths gave up their dead. Who are these pale spectres in plug hats and silken flounces that file up the companion-way in melancholy procession and step upon the deck ? These are they which took the infallible preventive of sea-sickness in New York harbour and then disappeared and were forgotten. Also there came two or three faces not seen before until this moment. One's impulse is to ask, " Where did you come aboard ? " We followed the narrow channel a long time, with land on both sides — low hills that might have been green and grassy, but had a faded look instead. However, the land- locked water was lovely, at any rate, with its glittering belts of blue and green where moderate soundings were, and its broad splotches of rich brown where the rocks \ if AN IDLE EXCURSION. 81 ^ lay near the surface. Everybody was feeling so well that even the grave, pale young man (who, by a sort of kindly common consent, had come latterly to be referred to as " the Ass") received frequent and friendly notice — which was right enough, for there was no harm in him. At last we steamed between two island points whose rocky jaws allowed only just enough room for the vessel's body, and now before us loomed Hamilton on her clus- tered hill-sides and summits, the whitest mass of terraced architecture that exists in the world perhaps. It was Sunday afternoon, and on the pier were gathered one or two hundred Bermudians, half of them black, half of them white, and all of them nobbily dressed, as the poet says. Several boats came off to the ship, bringing citizens. One of these citizens was a faded, diminutive old gentle- man, who approached our most ancient passenger with a childlike joy in his twinkling eyes, halted before him, folded his arms, and said, smiling with all his might and with all the simple delight that was in him, " You don't know me, John ! Come, out with it, now ; you know you don't!" The ancient passenger scanned him perplexedly, scan- ned the napless, threadbare costume of venerable fashion that had done Sunday-service no man knows how many years, contemplated the marvellous stove-pipe hat of still more ancient and venerable pattern, with its poor pathe- tic old stiff brim canted up " gallusly" in the wrong places and said, with a hesitation that indicated strong internal effort to " place " the gentle old apparition, " Why . . . let me see . . . plague on it . . . there's something I' I ^w< 32 AN IDLE EXCURSION. about you that . . . er . . . er . . . but I 'v^e been gone from Bermuda for twenty-seven years, and . . . hum, hum ... I don't seem to get at it, somehow, but there's something about you that is just as familiar to me as " Likely it might be his hat," murmured the Ass, with sympathetic interest. li'uUliO' AN IDLE EXCURSION. CHAPTER III. the Reverend and I had at last arrived at Hamil- ton, the principal town in the Bermuda Islands. A wonderfully white town; white as snow itself. White as marble ; white as flour. Yet looking like none of these, exactly. Never mind, we said ; we shall hit uopn a figure by and by that will describe this peculiar white. It was a town that was compacted together upon the sides and tops of a cluster of small hills. Its outlying borders fringed oft' and thinned away among the cedar forests, and there was no woody distance of curving coast, or leafy islet sleeping upon the dimpled, painted sea, but was flecked with shining white points — half-concealed houses peeping out of the foliage. The architecture of the town was mainly Spanish, in- herited from the colonists of two hundred and fifty years ago. Some ragged-topped cocoa-palms, glimpsed here and there, gave the land a tropical aspect. There was an ample pier of heavy masonry; upon this, under shelter, were some thousands of barrels containing that product which has carried the fame of Bermuda to many lands — the potato. With here and there an onion. That last sentence is facetious; for they grow at least two onions in Bermuda to one potato. The onion is the pride and joy of Bermuda. It is her jewel, her gem of gems. In her conversation, her pulpit, her literature, it is her most 1 I ! 34 AN IDLE EXCURSION. frequent and eloquent %urc. In Bermudian metaphor it stands for perfection — perfection absolute. The Bermudian weeping over the departed, exhausts praise when he says, ' He was an onion !' The Bermudian extolling the living hero, bankrupts applause when he says, ' He is an onion! ' The Bermudian setting his son upon the stage of life to dare and do for himself, climaxes all counsel, supplication, admonition, comprehends all am- bition, when he says, ' Be an onion ! ' When parallel with the pier, and ten or fifteen steps out- side it, we anchored. It was Sunday, bright and sunny. The groups upon the pier, men, youths, and boys, were whites and blacks in about equal proportion. All were well and neatly dressed, many of them nattily, a few of them very stylishly. One would have to travel far before he would find another town of twelve thousand inhabi- tants that could represent itself so respectably, in the mat- ter of clothes, on a freight-pier, without premeditation or effort. The women and young girls, black and white, who occasionally passed by, were nicely clad, and many were elegantly and fashionably so. The men did not aflfeciv summer clothing much, but the girls and women did, and their w hite garments were good to look at, after so many months of familiarity with sombre colours. Around one isolated potato barrel stood four young gen- tlemen, two black, two white, becomingly dressed, each with the head of a slender cane pressed against his teeth, and each with a foot propped up on the barrel. Another young gentleman came up, looked longingly at the bar- rel but saw no rest for his foot there. He wandered here and there, but without result. Nobody sat upon a barrel, • 1 AN IDLE EXCURSION. 35 as is the custom of the idle in other lands, yet all the iso- lated barrels were humanly cecupied. Whosoever had a foot to spare put it on a barrel, if all the places on it v/ere not already taken. The habits of all peoples are deter- mined by their circumstances. Tlie Bermudian:j lean upon barrels because of the scarcity of lamp-posts. Many citizens came on board and spoke eagerly to the officers — inquiring about the Turco-Russian war news, I supposed. However, by listening judiciously, I found that this was not so. They said, ' What is the price of onions ? ' or, ' how is onions ? ' Naturally enough this was their first interest ; but they dropped into the war the moment it was satisfied. We went ashore and found a novelty of a pleasing na- ture; there were no hackmen, hacks, or omnibuses on the pier or about it anywhere, and nobody offered his services to us, 01 molested us in any way. I said it was like being in heaven. The Reverend rebukingly and rather point- edly advised me to make the most of it, then. We knew of a boarding-house, and what we needed now was some- body to pilot us to it. Presently a little barefooted col- oured boy came along, whose raggedness was conspicu- ously un-Bernmdian. His rear was so marvellously be- patched with coloured squares and triangles that one was half persuaded he had got it out of an atlas. When the sun struck him right, he was as good to follow as a light- ning-bug. We hired him and dropped into his wake. He piloted us through one picturesque street after another, and in due course deposited us where we belonged. He charged us nothing for his map, and but a trifle for his services ; so the Reverend doubled it. The little chap re- 86 AN IDLE EXCURSION. ceived the money with a beaming applause in his eye which plainly said, ' This man's an onion ! ' Wo had brouifht no letters of introduction . Our names had been misspelt in the passenger list ; nobody knew whether we were honest folk or otherwise. So we were expecting to have a good private time in case there was nothing in our general aspect to close boarding-house doors asfainst us. We had no trouble. Bei muda has had but little experience of rascals, and is not suspicious. We got large, cool, well-lighted rooms on a second floor, over- looking a bloomy display of flowers and flowering shrubs — calla and annunciation lilies, Ian tanas, heliotrope, jessa- mine, roses, pinks, double geraviiums, oleanders, pomegra- nates, blue morning-glories of a great size, and many plants that were unknown to me. We took a long afternoon walk, and soon found out that that exceedingly white town was built of blocks of white coral. Bermuda is a coral island, with a six-inch crust of soil on top of it, and every man has a quarry on his own premises. Everywhere you go you see square recesses cut into the hill-sides, with perpendicular walls unmarred by crack or crevice, and perhaps you fancy that a house grew out of the ground there, and has been re- moved in a single piece from the mould. If you do, you •err. But the material for a house has been quarried there They cut right doWn through the coral, to any depth that is convenient — ten to twenty feet — and take it out in gi'eat square blocks. This cutting is done with a chisel that has a handle twelve or fifteen feet long, and is used as one uses a crowbar when he is drilling a hole, or a dasher when he is churning. Thus soft is this stone. %l 9.\ ;'■ " AN IDLE EXCURSION, H7 i V B , I XI ) Then with a common handsaw they saw the j^ieat blocks into liand.some, huge bricks that are two feet long, a foot wide, and about six inches thick. These stand loosely piled during a month to harden ; then the work of build- ing begins. The house is built of these blocks ; it is roofed with broad coral slabs an inch thick, whose edges lap upon each other, so that the roof looks like a succession of shal- low steps or terraces ; the chimneys are built of the coral blocks and sawed into graceful and picturesque patterns ; the ground-floor veranda is paved with coral blocks — built in massive panels, with broad cap-stones and heavy gate-posts, and the whole trimmed into easy lines and comely shape with the saw. Then they put a hard coat of whitewash, as thick as your thumb-nail, on the fence and all over the house, roof, chimneys, and all ; the sun comes out and shines on this spectacle, and it is time for you to shut your unaccustomed eyes, lest they be put out» It is the whitest white you can conceive of, and the blind- ingest. A Bermuda house does not look like marble ; it is a much intenser white than that ; and besides, there is a dainty, indefinable something else about its look that is. not marble-like. We put in a great deal of solid talk and reflection over this matter of trying to find a figure that would describe the unique white of a Bermuda house, and we contrived to hit upon it at last. It is exactly the white of the icing of a cake, and has the same unempha- sized and scarcely perceptible polish. The white of mar- ble is modest and retiring compared with it. After the house is cased in its hard scale of whitewash, not a crack, or sign of a seam, or joining of the blocks, is detectable, from base-stone to chimney-top ; the building ns AN IDI.K KXCUUSION. InoUsiis if it lijul liecii carved from a ,sin;;l«' Mock of stoin', aixl the (looi-s and vviiulows .sawi'd out afterwards. A wliiti' niarltlc liousc has a cold, toiid)-Iii noss and neatness. The roads, tlic streets, the dwellings, tilt' people, the clothes, tliis neatness extends to every- thing.;' that falls under the cyo. It is the tidiest country in the world. And very nuich the tidiest, too, Consi(h'rin;( these things, tlie ([uestion came up, Whore dothe poor live ? No answer was arrived at. Tin we agreed to leave this conundrum for future statesmen to wrangle over. What a bright and startling spectacle one of those blaz- ing white count!} i)ahices, with its brown-tinted window caps and ledges, and green shutters, and its wealth of caressing flowers and foliage, would be in black London ! And what a gleaming surprise it would be in nearly any American city one could mention! Bermuda roads are made by cutting down a few inches into the solid white coral — or a good many feet, where a hill intrudes itself — and smoothing off the surface of the road-bed. It is a simple and easy process. The grain of the coral is coa*'se and porous ; the road-bed has the look of being made of coarse white sugar. Its excessive clean- ness and whiteness are a trouble in one way : the sun is reflected into your eyes with such energy as you walk along that you want to sneeze all the time. Old Captain Tom B(3wling found another difficulty. He joined us in our walk, but kept wandering unrestfully to the road-side. Finally he explained. Said he, " Well, I chew, you know, and the road's so plaguy clean," We walked several miles that afternoon in the bewil- dering glare of the sun, the white roads, and the white buildings. Our eyes got to paining us a good deal. By- and-by a soothing, blessed twilight spread its cool balm I I,- II J 40 AN IDLE EXCURSION. around. We looked up in pleased surprise, and saw that it proceeded from an intensely black negro who was going by. We answered his military salute in the grateful gloom of his near presence, and then passed on into the pitiless white glare again. The coloured women whom we met usually bowed and spoke ; so did the children. The coloured men commonly gave the military salute. They borrowed this fashion from the soldiers, no doubt ; England has kept a garrison here for generations. The younger men's custom of carry- ing small canes is also borrowed from the soldiers, I sup- pose, who always cany a cane, in Bermuda as everywhere else in Britain's broad dominions. The country roads curve and wind hither and thither in the delightfuUest way, unfolding pretty surprises at every turn ; billowy masses of oleander that seem to float out from behind distant projections like the pink cloud-banks of sunset ; sudden plunges among cottages and gardens, life and activity, followed by as sudden plunges into the sombre twilight and stillness of the woods ; flittering visions of white fortresses and beacon towers pictured against the sky on remote hill-tops ; glimpses of shining green sea caught for a moment through opening headlands then lost again ; more woods and solitude ; and by-and- by another turn lays bare, without warning, the full sweep of the inland ocean, enriched with its bars of soft colour, and graced with its wandering sails. Take any road you please, you may depend upon it you will not stay in it half a mile. Your road is everything that a road ought to be : it is bordered with trees, and with strange plants and flowers : it is shady and pleasant, or TTUIigll] i'.li AN IDLE EXCURSION. 41 sunny and still pleasant; it carries you by the prettiest and peacef uUest and most home-like of homes, and through stretches of forest that lie in a deep hush sometimes, and sometimes are alive with the music of birds ; it curves always, which is a continual promise, whereas straight roads reveal eveiything at a glance and kill interest. Your road is all this, and yet you will not stay in it half a mile, for the reason that little, seductive, mysterious roads are always branching out from it on either hand, and as these curve sharply also and hide what is beyond, you cannot resist the temptation to desert your own chosen road and explore them. You are usually paid for your trouble ; con- sequently, your walk irdand always turns out to be one of the most crooked, involved, purposeless, and interesting experiences a body can imagine. There is enough of va- riety. Sometimes you are in the level open, with marshes thick grown with flag-lances that are ten feet high on the one hand, and potato and onion orchards on the other ; next, you are on a hill-top, with the ocean and the Islands spread around you ; presently, the road winds through a deep cut shut' in by perpendicular walls, thirty or forty feet high, marked with the oddest and abruptest stratum lines, suggestive of sudden and eccentric old upheavals, and garnished with here and there a clinging adventurous flower, and here and there a dangling vine ; and by-and- by your way is along the sea edge, and you may look down a fathom or two through the transparent water and watch the diamond-like flash- and play of the light upon the rocks and sands on the bottom until you are tired of it — if you are so constituted as to be able to get tired of it. You may march the country roads in maiden medita- 42 AN IDLE EXCURSION. til tion fancy free, by field and farm, for no dog will [»iunge out at you from unsuspected gate, with breath-taking sur- prise and ferocious bark, notwitlistanding it is a Christian hmd and a civilized. We saw upwards of a million cats in Bermuda, but the people are very abstemious in the matter of dogs. Two or three nights we prowled the country far and wide, and never once were accosted by a dog. It is a great privilege to visit such a land. The cats were no oflfence when properly distributed, but when piled they obstructed travel. As we entered the edge of the town that Sunday after- noon, we stopped at a cottage to get a drink of water. The propiietor, a middle-aged man with a good face, asked us to sit down and rest. His dame brought chairs, and we grouped ourselves in the shade of the trees by the dooi-. Mr. Smith — that was not his name, but it will answer — questioned us about ourselves and our country, and we answered him truthfully, as a general thing, and ques- tioned him in return. It was all very simple and pleasant and sociable. Rural, too ; for there was a pig and a small donkey and a hen anchored out, close at hand, b}' cords to their legs, on a spot that purported to be grassy. Presently a woman passed along, and although she coldly said nothing, she changed the drift of our talk. Said Smith : " She didn't look this way, you noticed ? Well, she is our next neighbour on one side, and there's another family that's our next neighbours on the other side ; but there's a general coolness all round now, and we don't speak. Yet these three families, one generation and another, have lived here side by side and been as friendly as w^eaverx for a hundred and fifty years, till about a year ago." wttmsm AiN IDLE KXCURSION. 43 " Why, what calamity could have been powerful enough to break up so old a friendship ? " " Well, it was too bad, but it couldn't be helped. It happened like this : About a year or more ago, the rats got to pestering my place a good deal, and I set up a steel- trap in the back yard. Both of these neighboui's lun considerable to cats, and so I warned them about the trap, because their cats were pretty sociiiMe around here nights, and they might get into trouble without n:y in- tending it. Well, they shut up their cats for a while, but you know how it is with people ; they got careless, a,nd sure enough one night the trap took Mrs. Jones's principal tom-cat into camp, and finished him up. In the morning Mrs. Jones comes here with the corpse in her arms, and cries and takes on the same as if it was a chihl. It was a cat by the name of Yelveiton — Hector G. Yel- verton — a troublesome old rip, with no more principle than an Injun, though you couldn't make her believe it. I said all a man could to comfort her, but no, nothing would do but I nuist pay for him. Finally, I said I warn't investing in cats now as much as I was, and with that she walked off in a huff, carrying the remains with her. That closed our intercourse with the Joneses. Mrs. Jones joined another church and took her tribe with her. She said she would not hold fellowship with assassins. Well, by and by comes Mrs. Brown's turn — she that went by here a minute ago. She had a disgraceful old yellow cat that she thought as \nuch of as if he was twins, and one night he tried that trap on his neck, and it fitted him so, and was so sort of satisfactory, that he laid down and AN IDLE EXCURSION. curled up and stayed with it. Such was the end of Sir John Baldwin." " Was that the name of the cat ? " " The same. There's cats around here with names that would surprise you. Maria" to his wife — "what was that cat's name that eat a keg of ratsbane by mistake over at Hooper's, and started home and got struck by lightning and took the blind staggers and fell in the well and was most drowned before they could fish him out ? " " That was that coloured Deacon Jackson's cat. I only remember the last end of its name, which was To-be-or- not-to-be-that-is-the-question-Jackson." " Sho, that ain't the one. That's the one that eat up an entire box of Seidlitz powders, and then hadn't any more judgment than to go and take a drink. He was con- sidered to be a great loss, but I never could see it. Well, no matter about the names. Mrs. Brown wanted to be reasonable, but Mrs. Jones wouldn't let her. She put her up to going to law for damages. So to law she went, and had the face to claim seven shillings and sixpence. It made a great stir. All the neighbours went to court; everybody took sides. It got hotter and hotter, and broke up all the friendships for thrae hundred yards around — friendships that had lasted for generations and generations. " Well, I proved by eleven witnesses that the cat was of a low character and very ornery, and warn't worth a cancelled postage-stamp, any way, taking the average of cats here; but I lost the case. What could I expect? The system is all wrong here, and is bound to make re- volution and bloodshed some day. You see, they give the magistrate a poor little starvation salary, and then I I AN IDLE EXCURSION. 45 n. i I turn him loose on the public to gouge for fees and costs to live on. What is the natural result ? Why, he never looks into the justice of a case — never once. All he looks at is which client has got the money. So this one piled the fees and costs and everything on to me. I could pay specie, don't you see ? and he knew mighty well that if he put the verdict on to Mrs. Brown, where it belonged, he'd have to take his swag in currency." " Currency ? Why, has Bermuda a currrency ? " " Yes — onions. And they were forty per cent, discount, too, then, because the season had been over as much as three months. So I lost my case. I had to pay for that cat. But the general trouble the case made was the worst thing about it. Broke up so much good feeling. The neighbours don't speak to each other now. Mrs. Brown had named a child after me. So she chansjed its name right away. She is a Baptist. Well, in the course of bap- tising it over again, it got drowned. I was hoping we might get to be friendly again some time or other, but of course this drowning the child knocked that all out of the question. It would have saved a world of heart- break and ill blood if she had named it dry.'' I knew by the sight that this was honest. All this trouble and all this destruction of confidence in the purity of the bench on account of a seven-shilling lawsuit about a cat ! Somehow, it seemed to " size " the country. At this point we observed that an English flag had just been placed at half mast on a building a hundred yards away. I and my friend were busy in an instant trying to imagine whose death, among the island dignitaries, could command such a mark of respect as this. Then a 40 AN IDLE EXCURSION. shudder shook him and me at the same moment, and I knew that we had jumped to one and the same conclu- sion : " The Governor has gone to England ; it is for the British admiral ! " At this moment Mr. Smith noticed the flajr. He said with emotion : — " That's on a boarding-house. I judge there's a boarder dead." A dozen other flags within view went to half-mast. " It's a boarder, sure," said Smith. " But would they half-mast the flags hei-e for a boarder, Mr. Smith ? " " Why certainly tht;y would, if he was dead" That seemed to " size " the country again. AN IDLE EXCURSION. 47 CHAPTER IV. ^ HE early twilight of a Sunday evening in Hamilton, ^-7, Bermuda, is an alluring time. There is just enough of whispering breeze, fragrance of Howers, and sense of repose to raise one's thoughts heavenward ; and just enough amateur piano music to keep him reminded of the other place. There are many venerable pianos in Hamilton, and they all play at twilight. Age enlarges and enriches the powers of some musical instruments, — notably those of the violin, — but it seems to set a piano's teeth on edge. Most of the music in vogue there is the same that those pianos prattled in their innocent infancy ; and there is something very pathetic about it when they go over it now, in their asthmatic second childhood, drop- ping a note here and there, where a tooth is gone. We attended evening service at the stately Episcopal church on the hill, where were five or six hundred people^ half of them white and the other half black, according to the usual Bermudian proportions ; and all well dressed, — a thing which is also usual in Bermuda Mnd to be confi- dently expected. There was good music, which we heard, and doubtless a good sermon, but there was a wonderful deal of coughing, and so only the high parts of the argu- ment carried over it. As we came out after service, I overheard one young girl say to another, — " Why you don't mean to say you pay duty on gloves and laces ! I only pay postage ; have them done up and sent in the Boston Advertiser." •48 AN IDLE EXCURSION. There ai'e those who believe that the most difficult thing to create is a woman who can comprehend that it is wrong to smuggle ; and that an impossible thing to create is a woman who will not smuggle, whether or no, when she gets a chance. But these may be errors. We went wandering off toward the country, and were soon far down in the lonely black depths of a road that was roofed over by the dense foliage of a double rank of great cedars. There was no sound of any kind there ; it was perfectly still. And it was so dark that one could detect nothing but sombre outlines. We strode farther and farther down this tunnel, cheering the way with chat. Presently the chat took this shape : — " How insensibly the character of a people and of a government makes its impression upon a stranger, and gives him a sense of se- curity or of insecurity without his taking deliberate thought upon the matter or asking anybody a question ! We have been in this land half a day ; we have seen none bnt honest faces ; we have noticed the British flag flying* which means efficient government and good order ; so without inquiry we plunged unarmed and with perfect confidence into this dismal place, which in almost any other country would swarm with thugs and garroters " — 'Sh ! What was that ? Stealthy footsteps. Low voices ! We gasp, we close up together, and wait, A vague shape glides out of the dusk and confronts us. A voice speaks — demands money ! " A shilling, gentlemen, if you please, to help build the new Methodist church." Blessed sound ! Holy sound ! We contribute with thankful avidity to the new Methodist church, and are .. AN IDLE EXCURSION. 41>' happy to think how lucky it was that those little coloured Sunday-school scholars did not seize upon everything we had with violence, before we recovered from our momen- tary helpless condition. By the light of cigars we write down the names of weightier philanthropists than our- selves on the contribution-cards, and then pass on into the farther darkness, saying, What sort of a government . do they call this, where they allow little black pious child- ren, with contribution-cards, to plunge out upon peaceable strangers in the dark and scare them to death ? We prowled on several hours, sometimes by the sea-side, sometimes inland, and finally managed to get lost, which is a feat that requires talent in Bermuda. I had on new shoes. They were No. 7's when I started, but were not more than 5's now, and still diminishing. I walked two hours in those shoes after that, before we reached home. Doubtless I could have the reader's sympathy for the ask- ing. Many people have never had the headache or the toothache, and I am one of those myself ; but everybody has worn tight shoes for two or three hours, and know the luxury of taking them off in a retired place and see- ing his feet swell up and obscure the firmament. Few of us will ever forget the exquisite hour we were married. ■ Once when I was callow, bashful cub, I took a plain, un- sentimental country girl to a comedy one night. I had known her a day ; she seemed divine ; I wore my new boots. At the end of the first half-hour she said, " Why do you fidget so with your feet ? " I said, " Did I ? " Then I put my attention there and kept still. At the end of another half hour she said, " Why do you say ' yes, oh, yes ! ' and ' Ha, ha, oh, certainly ! very true ! ' to every- .50 AN IDLE EXCUIISION. ling the the say, wlion nait tiic tuno tno.se are entirely irrele- vant answers ? " I blushed, and explained that I had been a little absent-minded. At the end of another half hour she said, " Please, why do you grin so steadfastly at vacancy, and y;'t look so sad ? " I explained that I always did that when I was reflecting. An hour passud, and then she turned and contemplated me with her earnest eyes and said, " Why do you cry all the time ? " I explained that very funny comedies always made me cry. At last human nature surrendered, and I secretly slipped my boots off. This was a mistake. I was not able to get them on any more. It was a rainy night ; there were no omnibuses going our way ; and as I walked home, burn- ing up with shame, with the girl on one arm and my boots under the other, I was an object worthy of some compassion, — especially in those moments of martyrdom when I had to pass through the glare that fell upon the pavement from street lamps. Finally, this child of the forest said, " Where are your boots ? " and being taken unprepared, I put a fitting finish to the follies of the evening with the stupid remark, " The higher classes do not wear them to the theatre." j. The Reverend had been an army chaplain during the war, and while we were hunting for a road that would lead to Hamilton he told a story about two dying soldiers which interested me in spite of my feet. He said that in the Potomac hospitals rough pine coffins were furnished by government, but that it was not always possible to keep up with the demand ; so, when a man died, if there was no coffin at hand he was buried without one. One night late, two soldiers lay dying in a ward. A man came AN IDLK EXCURSION. 51 in with a coffin on his shouldiT, and stood trying,' to make up his mind vvliidi of these two poor fellows would be likely to need it first. Both of them begged for it with their fading eyes, — they were past talking. Then one of tliem protruded a wasted hand from his blankets and made a feeble beckoning sign with tlie fingers, to signify, " Be a good fellow ; put it under my bed, please." The man dit ! " This was a remarkable boy in many ways. He was about eleven years old ; ho had alert, intent black eyes ; he was quick of movement ; there was no hesitation, no •uncertainty about him anywhere ; there was a military decision in his lip, his manner, his speech, that was an astonishing thing to see in a little chap like him ; he wasted no words ; his answers always came so quick and brief that they seemed to be part of the ([uestion that had been asked instead of a reply to it. When he stood at the table with his fly-brush, rigid, erect, his face set in a cast-iron gravity, he was a statue till he detected a dawn- ing want in somebody's eye ; then he pounced down, sup- plied it, and was instantly a statue again. When he was sent to the kitchen for anything, he marched upright till he got to the door ; he turned hand-springs the rest of the way. " Breakfast ! " I thought 1 would make nne more effort to get some conversation out of this being. " Have you called the Reverend, or are — ?" "Yess'r!" " Is it early, or is— ?" " Eight-five !" " Do you have to do all the ' chores,' or is there some- body to give you a 1 — " "Coloured girl!" this island, or are there — " only one parish Eight AN IDI.K KXCl/IlsroN. .^3 " Is the big church on the liill a parish church, or Is it—" " Chapol-of-oaHt! !" " Ls taxation lioro claHHitiod into poll, parish, town, and—" " ])on't know !" Before I could cudgel anotlicr ([Ue.stion out of my hea m manuscript, because an individual's verdict was woi'thless. It might underrate a work of high merit and lose it to the world, or it might overrate a trashy production and so open the way for its infliction upon the world. I said that the great public was the only i.ibunal competent to sit in judgment upon a literary effort, and therefore it must be best to lay it before that tribunal in the outset, since in the end it must stand or fall by that mighty court's decision any way." " Yes, you said all that. So you did, you juggling, small-souled shuffler ! And yet when the happy hopeful- ness fadod out of that poor girl's face, when you saw her furtively slip beneath her shawl the scroll she had so pa- tiently and honestly scribbled at, — so ashamed of her darling now, so proud of it before, — when you saw the gladness go out of her eyes and the tears come there, when she crept away so humbly who had come so — " " O, peace ! peace ! peace ! Blister your merciless tongue, haven't all these thoughts tortm^ed me enough, without your coming here to fetch them back again ? " Remorse ! remorse ! It seemed to me that it would eat the very heart out of me ! And yet that small fiend only sat there leering at me with joy and contempt, and placidly chuckling. Presently he began to speak again. Every sentence was an accusation, and every accusation a truth. Every clause was freighted with sarcasm and derision, every slow-dropping word burned like vitriol. The dwarf reminded me of times when I had flown at my children in anger and punished them for faults which a little inquiry would have taught me that others, and not they, had committed. He reminded me of how I had E \ I 70 RECENT CARNIVAL OF CRIME. disloyally allowed old friends to be traduced in my hear- ing, and been too craven to utter a word in their defence. He reminded me of many dishonest things which I had done; of many which I had procured to be done by children and other irresponsible persons ; of some which I had planned, thought upon, and longed to do, and been kept from the performance by fear of consequences only. With exquisite cruelty he recalled to my mind, item by item, wrongs and unkindnesses I had inflicted and hu- miliations I had put upon friends since dead, " who died thinking of those injuries, maybe, and grieving over them," he added, by way of poison to the stab. " For instance," said he, " take the case of your younger brother, when you two were boys together, many a long- year ago. He always lovingly trusted in you with a fidelity that your manifold treaoiwries were not able to shake. He followed you about like a dog, content to suffer wrong and abuse if he might only be with you ; patient under these injuries so long as it was your hand that inflicted them. The latest picture you have of him in health and strength must be such a comfort to you ! You fledged your honour that if he would let you blind- fold him no harm should come to him ; and then, giggling and choking over the rare fun of the joke, you led him to a brook thinly glazed with ice, and pushed him in ; and how you did laugh ! Man, you will never forget the gentle, reproachful look he gave you as he struggled shivering out, if you live a thousand years ! Oho ! you see it now, you see it now ! " " Beast, I have seen it a million times, and shall see it a million more ! and may you rot away piecemeal, and '!» /i ^S- ^'Pf-j:*^ KECENT CARNIVAL OF CRIME. 71 i» /'I suffer till doomsday what I suffer now for bringing it back to me again ! " The dwarf chuckled contentedly, and went on with his accusing history of my career. I dropped into a moody, vengeful state, and suffered in silence under the merciless lash. At last this remark of his gave me a sudden rouse : — " Two months ago, on a Tuesday, you woke up, away in the night, and fell to thinking, with shame, about a peculiarly mean and pitiful act of yours toward a poor ignorant Indian in the wilds of the Rocky Mountains in the winter of eighteen hundred and — " " Stop a moment, devil ! Stop ! Do you mean to tell me that even my very thoughts are not hidden from you ? " " It seems to look like that. Didn't you think the thoughts I have just mentioned ? " " If I didn't, I wish I may never breathe again ! Look here, friend — look me in the eye. Who are you 1 " " Well, who do you think ? " " I think you are Satan himself. I think you are the devil." " No." " No ? Then who can you be ? " " Would you really like to know ? " " Indeed I would." " Well, I am your Conscience ! " In an instant I was in a blaJie of joy and exultation sprang at the creature, roaring, — " Curse you, I have wished a hundred million times that you were tangible, and that I could get my hands on I i j 72 llECENT CARNIVAL OF CRIME. your throat once ! 0, but I will wreak a deadly ven- li I geance on- Folly! Lii^hh ing does not move more quickly than my Conscience did ! He darted aloft so suddenly that in the moment my fingers clutched the empty air he was al- ready perched on the top of the high bookcase, with his thumb at his nose in token of derision. I flung the poker at him, and missed. I fired the bootjack. In a blind rage I flew from place to place, and snatched and hurled any missile that came handy; the storm of books, ink- stands, and chunks of coal gloomed the air and beat about the manikin's perch relentlessly, but all to no purpose ; the nimble figure dodged every shot ; and not only that» but burst into a cackle of sarcastic and triumphant laugh- ter as I sat down exhausted. While I puffed and gasped with fatigue and excitement, my Conscience talked to this eSbct : — " My good slave, you are curiously witless — no, I mean characteristically so. In truth, you are always consistent, always yourself, always an ass. Otherwise it must have occurred to you that if you attempted this murder with a sad heart and a heavy conscience, I would droop under the burdening influence instantly. Fool, I should have weighed a ton, and could not have budged from the floor ; but instead, you are so cheerfully anxious to kill me that your conscience is as light as a feather ; hence I am away up here out of your reach. I can almost respect a mere ordinary sort of fool ; but yovu — ^pah ! " I wovld have given anything, then, to be heavy- hearted, so that I could get this person down from there and take his life, but I could no more be heavy-hearted t^t RECENT CARNIVAL OF CRIME. 73 ^i*^ t over such a desire than I could have sorrowed over iis accomplishment. So I could only look longingly up at my master, and rave at the ill-luck that denied me a heavy conscience the one only time that I had ever warted such a thing in my life. By and by I got to musing over the hour's strange adventure, and of course my human curiosity began to work. I set myself to framing in my mind some questions for this fiend to answer. Just then one of my boys entered, leaving the door open behind him, and exclaimed, — " My ! what has been going on, here ! The bookcase is all one riddle of — " I sprang up in consternation, and shouted, — " Out of this ! Hurry ! Jump ! Fly ! Shut the door ! Quick, or my Conscience will get away ! " The door slammed to, and I locked it. I glanced up and was grateful, to the bottom of my heart, to see that my owner was still my prisoner. I said, — " Hang you, I might have lost you ! Children are the heedlessest creatures. But look here, friend, the boy did not seem to notice you at all ; how is that ? " " For a very good reason. I am invisible to all but you." I made mental note of that piece of information with a ofood deal of satisfaction. I could kill this miscreant now, if I got a chance, and no one would know it. But this very reflection made me so light-hearted that my Con- science could hardly keep hiy seat, but was like to float aloft toward the ceiling like a toy balloon. I said, pre- sently, — " Come, my Conscience, let us be friendly. Let us fly y^ Sj'^'-^' 74 RECEN'i CARNIVAL OF CRIME. a flag of truce lor a while. I am suflering to a.sk yon some quest 1 oils." " Verv well. Begin." " Well, then, in the fir'^t place, 'v'^hy \^ ore you never visible to me before ? " " Because you never asked to soe me bei'ore ; that is, you never asked in the right spirit an to encourage vagrancy, I would give him nothing. What did you do then ? Why, you made me say to myself, ' Ah, it would have been so much kinder and more blameless to ease him ofi" with a little white lie, and send him away feelinj that if he could not have bread, the gentle treatment was at least something to be grateful for ! ' Well, I suffered all day about that. Three days before, I had fed a tramp, and fed him freely, sup- posing it a virtuous act. Straight oflf you said, ' O false citizen, to havo fed a tramp ! ' and I suflfered as usual. I gave a tramp work ; you objected to it — after the contract was made, of course ; you never speak up beforehand. ; \ m 78 RKCEXT CARNIVAL QV CRIME. Next I i'efiised a tramp work ; yon objected to that. Ne~ t, I proposed to kill a ti-aiiip ; you kept mo awake all night oozing remorse at every pore. Sure I was going to bu right tkU time, I sent the next tramp away v' ith my benediction ; and I wish yoxx may live as long as I do, if you didn't make me smart all night again because I didn't kill him. Is there any way of satisfying that malignant invention which is called conscience ? " " Ha, ha ! this is luxury ! Go (m ! " " But come, now, answer me that question, /.s there any way ? " " Well, none that I propose to tell yon, my son. Ass! I don't care ivhat act you may turn your band to, I can straightway whisper a word in your ear and make yo'i think you have committed a dreadful meanness. It is my buKineas — and my joy — to make you repent of every- thing you do. If I have fooled away my opportunities it was not inttutional ; I beg to assure you it was not intentional." " Don't woiTy ; you haven't missed a trick that / know of. I never did a thing in all my life, virtuous or other- wise, that I didn't repent of within twenty-four hours. In church last Sunday I listened to a charity sermon. My first impulse was to give three hundred and fifty dollars ; repented of that and reduced it a hundred ; re- pented of that and reduced it another hundred ; repented of that and reduced it another hundred ; repented of that and reduced the remaining fift\ to twenty -five ; repented of ihcii a ltd came down to fifteen ; repented of that and dropped to two dollars and a ha'jf ; when the plate came around at last, I repented once more and contributed ten HWIf HITWWMiaWMiXai RECENT CARNIVAL OF CHIME. 70 .. cents. Well, when T got home, I did wisli to goodness I liad that ten cents buck again ! You never did let me get through a charity sermon without having something to sweat about." " O, and 1 never shall, I never shall. You ran always depend on me." " I think so. Many and many's the restless night I wanted to take you by the neck. If I could only get hold of you now I " " Yes, no doubt. But I am not an ass ; I am only the saddle of an ass. But go on, go on. You entertain me more than I like to confess." " I am glad of that. (You will not mind my lying a little, to keep in practice.) Look here ; not to be too pei'- sonal, I think you are about the shabbiest and most con- temptible little shrivelled-up reptile that can be imagined I am grateful enough that you are invisible to other peo- ple, for I should die with shame to be seen with such a mildewed monkey of conscience as you are. Now if you were five or six feet high, and — " " O, come, who is to blame? " " / don't know." " Why, you are ; nobody else." " Confound you, I wasn't consulted about your per- sonal appearance." " I don't care, you had a good deal to do with it, never- theless. When you were eight or nine years old, I was seven feet high and as pretty as a picture." " I wish you had died young ! So you have grown the wrong way, have you ? " " Some of us grow one way and some the other. You •isi3% «fV :80 RECENT CARNIVAL OF CRIME. had a large conscience once ; if you've a small conscience now, I rocl^on there are reasons for it. However, both of us are to blame, you and I. ^ You see, you used to be con- scientious about a great many things ; morbi< lly so, I may say. It was a great many years ago. You probably do not remember it, now. Well, I took a gieat interest in my work, and I so enjoyed the anguish which certain pet sins of yours afHicted you with, that I kept pelting at you until I rather overdid the matter. You began to rebel. Of course I began to lose ground, then, and shri- vel a little — diminish in stature, get mouldy, and grow deformed. The more I weakened, the more stubbornly you fastened on to those particular sins ; till at last the places on my person that represent those vices became as callous as shark-skin. Take smoking, for instance. I played that card a little too long, and I lost. When people plead with you at this late day to quit that vice, the old callous place seems to enlarge and cover me all over like a shirt of mail. It exerts a mysterious, smothering effect; and presently I, your faithful hater, your devoted Conscience, go fast asleep ! Sound ? It is no name for it. I couldn't hear it thun- der at such a time. You have some few other vices — perhaps eighty, or maybe ninety — that affect me in much the same way." " This is flattering ; you must be asleep a good part of your time." " Yes, of late years. I shcjuld be asleep all the time, but for the help I get." " Who helps you ? " " Other consciences. Whenever a person whose con- It- I UECENT CARNIVAL OP CRIME. 81 •r science I am acquainted with tries to plead with you about the vices you are callous to, I ^et my friend to give his client a pang concerning some villany of his own, and that shuts otf his meddling and starts him oft' to liunt personal consolation. My fiehl of usefulness is about trimmed down to tramps, l)udding authoresses, and that line of goods, now ; but don't you worry — I'll harry you on them while they last ! Just you put your trust in me. " I think 1 can. But if you had only been good enough to mention these facts some thirty years ago, I should have turned my particular attention to sin, and I think that by this time I should not only have had you pretty permanently asleep on the entire list of human vices, but reduced to the size of a homoeopathic pill, at that. That is about the style of conscience 7 am pining for. If I only had you shrunk down to a homoepathic pill, and could get my hands on you, would I put you in a glass case for a keepsake ? No, sir. I would give you to a yellow dog ! That is where you ought to be — you and all your tribe. You are not fit to be in society, in my opinion. Now another question. Do you know a good many conseien- . ces in this section ? " " Plenty of them." " I would give anything to see some of them ! Could you bring them here ? And would they be visible to me ? " "Certainly not." ■ " I suppose I ought to have known that, without asking. But no matter, you can describe them. Tell me about my neighbour Thompson's conscience, please." "Very well. I know him intimately, — have known. 82 RECENT CARNIVAL OF CRIME. him many years. I knew him when he was eleven feet high, and of a faultless figure. But he is very rusty and tough and misshappen now, and hardly ever interests himself about anything. As to his present size — well, he sleeps in a cigar-box." " Likely enough. There are few smaller, meaner men in this region than Hugh Thompson. Do you know Rob- inson's conscience ?" " Yes. He is a shade under four and a half feet high ; used to be a blonde ; is a brunette now, but still shapely and comely. " Well, Robinson is a good fellow. Do you know Tom Smith's conscience ? " " I have known him from childhood. He was thirteen inches high, and rather sluggish when he was two years old — as nearly all of us are at that age. He is thirty- seven feet high now, and the stateliest figure in America. His legs are still racked with growing pains, but he has a good time nevertheless. Never sleeps. He is the most active and energetic rrember of the New England Con- science Club,- -is president of it. Night and day you can find him pegging away at Smith, panting with his labour, sleeves rolled up, countenance all alive with enjoyment. He has got his victim splendidly dragooned now. He can make poor Smith imagine that the most innocent little thing he does is an odious sin ; and then he sets to work and almost tortures the soul out of him about it." " Smith is the noblest man in all this section, and the purest ; and yeu is always breaking his heart because he cannot be good ! Only a conscience could find pleasure in « I ■ii M Mwpii l yy CT » ^. V RECENT CARNIVAL OF CRIME. 83 heaping agony upon a spirit like that. Do you know my Aunt Mary's conscience ?" " I have seen her at a distance, but am not acquainted with her. She lives in the open air altogether, becaase no door is large enough to admit her," " I can believe that. Let me see. Do you know the conscience of that publisher who once stole some sketches of mine for a ' series ' of his, and then left me to pay the law expenses I had to incur in order to choke him ott'?" " Yes ; he has a wide fame. He was exhibited a month ago, with some other antiquities, for the benefit of a recent Member of the Cabinet's conscience, that was starving in exile. Tickets and fares were high, but I travelled for nothing by pretending to be the conscience of an editor, and got in foi- half price hy representing myself to be the conscience of a clergyman. However, the publisher's conscience, which was to have been the main feature of the entertainment, was a failure, — as an exhibition. He was there, but what of that ? The management had pro- vided a microscope with a magnifying power of only thii-ty thousand diametei^s, and so nobody got to see him after all. There was great and general dissatisfaction, of course, but — " Just here there wl s an eager footstep on the stairs. I opened the door, and my Aunt Maiy burst into the room. It was a joyful meeting, and a cheery bombardment of questions and answers concerning family matters ensued. By and by my Aunt said : " But I am going to abuse you a little now. You pro- mised me, the day I saw you last, that you would look after the needs of the poor family round the corner as 84 RECENT CARNIVAL OF CRIME. faithfully as I had done it myself. Well, I found out by accident that you failed of your promise. Was that right ? " In simple truth, I never had thought of that family a second time ! And now such a splintering pang of guilt shot through me ! I glanced up at my Conscience. Plainly, my heavy heart was affecting him. His body was drooping forward ; he seemed about to fall from the bookcase. My aunt continued : — " And think how you have neglected my poor protegee Sit the almshouse, you dear, hard-hearted promise- breaker ! " I blushed scarlet, and my tongue was tied. As the sense of my guilty negligence waxed shai-per and stronger, my Conscience began to sway heavily back and forth ; and when my aunt, after a little pause, said in a grieved tone " Since you never once went to see her, may- be it will not distress you now to know that that pooi' child died, months ago, utterly friendless and forsaken ! ' My Conscience coidd no longer bear up under the weight of my sufferings, but tumbled headlong from his high perch and struck the floor with a dull, leaden thump. He lay there writhing with pain and quaking with appre- hension, but straining every muscle in frantic efforts to get up. In a fever of expectancy I sprang totlie door, locked it, placed my back against it, and bent a watchful gaze upon my struggling master. Already my fingers were itching to begin their murderous work. " O, what can be the matter ! " exclaii led my aunt, shrinking from me, and following with her frightened eyes the direction of mine. My breath was coming in RECENT CARNIVAL OF CRIME. 85 short, quick gasps now, and my excitement was almost uncontrollable. My aunt cried out, — " O, do not look so ! You appall me ! 0, what can the matter be ? What is it you see ? Why do you stare so ? Why do you work your fingers like that ? " " Peace, woman ! " I said, in a hoarse whisper. " Look elsewhere ; pay no attention to me ; it is nothing, noth- ing. I am often this way. It will pass in a moment. It comes from smoking too much." My injured lord was up, wild-eyed with terror, and trying to hobble toward the door, I could hardly breathe, I was 80 wrought up. My aunt wrung her hands, and said, — " O, I knew how it would be ; I knew it would come t(^ this at last ! O, I implore yon to ci'ush out that fatal liabit while it may yet be time ! You must not, you shall not be deaf to my supplications longer ! " My struggling Conscience showed sudden signs of weariness! " O, promise me you will throw off this hateful slavery of tobacco ! " My Conscience began to reel drowsily,and grope with his hands — enchanting spectacle ! " I beg you, I beseech you, I implore you ! Your reason is de- serting you ! There is madness in your eye ! It flames with frenzy ! 0, hear me, hear me, and be saved ! See, I plead with you on my very knees ! " As she sank before me my Conscience reeled again, and then drooped lan- guidly to the floor, blinking toward me a last supplication for mercy, with heavy eyes. " 0, promise, or you are lost : Promise, and be redeemed ! Promise ! Promise and live ! " With a long-drawn sigh my conquered Con- science closed his eyes and fell fast asleep ! V 86 RECENT CARNIVAL OF CRIME. i With an exultant shout I sprang past my aunt, and in an instant I had my life-long foe by the throat. After so many years of waiting and longing, he was mine at last. I tore him to shreds and fragments. I rent the fraerments to bits. I cast the bleedingf rubbish into the fire, and drew into my nostrils tlie grateful incense of my burnt offering. At last, and forever, my Conscience was dead ! I was a free man ! I turned upon my poor aunt, who was almost petrified with terror, and shouted, — " Out of this with your paupers, your charities, your reforms, your pestilent morals ! You behold before you a man whose life-conflict is done, whose soul is at peace ; a man whose heart is dead to sorrow, dead to suifferiug, dead to remorse ; a man without a Conscience! In my joy I spare you, though I could throttle you and never feel a pang ! Fly ! " She fled. Since that day my life is all bliss. Bliss, un- alloyed bliss. Nothing in all the world could persuade me to have a conscience again. I settled all my old out- standing scores, and began the world anew. I killed thirty-eight persons during the first two weeks — all of them on account of ancient grudges. I burned a dwelling that interrupted my view. I swindled a widow and somr orphans out of their last cow, which is a very good one, though not thoroughbred, I believe. I have also com- mitted scores of crimes, of various kinds, and have en- joyed my work exceedingly, whereas it would formerly have broken my heart and turned my hair gray, I have no doubt. In conclusion I wish to state, by way of advertisement, t IIEC'ENT CARNIVAL OF CRIME. sr that inedicul colleges desiring assorted tramps for scien- tific purposes, either by the gross, by cord measurement, or per ton, will do well to examine the lot in my cellar before purchasing elsewhere, as these were all selected and prepared by myself, and can be had at a low rate, be- cause I wish to clear out my stock and get ready for the spring trade. THE LOVES OP ALOlsrZO FITZ OLAEENCE AND EOSAIVJNAH ETHE1.T0]SI. -•-♦-• <>^ fT was well along in the forenoon of a bittei- winter's ^ . day. The town of Eastport, in the State of Maine, lay buried under a deep snow that was newly fallen. The customary bustle in the streets was wanting. One could look long distances down them and see nothing but a dead white emptiness, with silence to match, Of course I do not mean that you could see the silence, — no, you could only hear it. The sidewalks were merely long, deep ditches, with steep snow walls on either side. Here and there you might J '.ear the faint, far scrape of a wooden shovel, and if you were quick enough you might catch a glimpse of a distanc black figure stooping and disappear- ing in one of those ditches, and reappearing the next mo- ment with a motion which you would know meant the heaving out of a shovelful of snow. But you needed to be quick, for that black figure would not linger, but would soon drop that shovel and seud for the house, thrashing itself with its arms to warm them. Yes, it was too venomously cold for snow shovelers or anybody else to 5»tay out long. ALONZO FITZ CLARENCE AND ROSANNAH ETH ELTON. 89 Presently the sky darkened ; then the wind rose and began to blow in fitful, vigorous gusts, which sent clouds of powdery snow aloft, and straight ahead, and every- where. Under the impulse of one of these gusts, great white drifts banked themselves like graves across the streets ; a moment later, another gust shifted them around the other way, driving a fine spray of snow from their sharp crests, as the gale drives the spume flakes from the wave-crests at sea ; a third gust swept that place as clean as your hand, if it saw fit. This was fooling, this was play ; but each and all of the gusts dumped some snow into the sidewalk ditches, for that was business. Alonzo Fitz Clarence was sitting in his snug and elegant little parlour, in a lovely blue silk dressing-gown, with cuffs and facings of crimson satin, elaborately quilted. The remains of his bieakfast were before him, and the dainty and costly little table service added a harmonious charm to the grace, beauty, and richness of the fixed ap- pointments of the room. A cheery fire was blazing on the hearth. A furious gust of wind shook the windows, and a great wave of snow washed against them with a drenching sound, so to speak. The handsome young bachelor mur- mured, — " That means, no going out to-day. Well, I am con- tent. But what to do for company ? Mother is well enough, aunt Susan is well enough ; but these, like the poor, I have with me always. On so grim a day as this, one needs a new interest, a fresh element, to whet the dull edge of captivity. That was very neatly said, but it doesn't mean anything. One doesn't waiit the edge of *m' 90 ALONZO FJTZ CLAHENCE AND ROSANNAH ETHEL'l'ON. captivity sharpened up, you know, but just the re- verse." He glanced at his pretty French mantel clock. " That clock's wrong again. That clock hardly eve; knows what time it is ; and when it does know, it lies about it, — which amounts to the same thing. Alfred ! " There was no answer. " Alfred ! . . . Good servant, but as uncertain as the clock." • Alonzo touched an electric bell-button in the wall. He waited a moment, then touched it again ; waited a few moments more, and said, — " Battery out of order, no doubt. But now that 1 have started, I will find out what time it is." He stepped to a speaking-tube in the wall, blew its \vhistie and callud, " Mother ! " and repeated it twice. " WeW, that's no use. Mother's battery is out of order, too. Can't raise anyliody down stairs, — that's plain." He sat down at at a rose-wood desk, leanetl his chin on the left-hand edge of it, and spoke, as if to the flooi- : — " Aunt Susan 1 " A low, pleasant voice answered, " Is that you, Alonzo r " Yes. I'm too lazy and comfortable to go down-stairs ; I'm in extremity, and I can't seem to scare up any help." " Dear me, what is the matter ? " " Matter enough, I can tell 3^ou ! " " Oh, don't keep me in suspense, dear ! What Ik it ?" " I want to know what time it is." " You abominable boy, what a t\n-n you did give me ! Is that all ? " 1 ALONZO FITA CJAllENCE AND llOSANNAH ETIIELT(JN. 91 I. "All,— on my honour. Calm yourself. Tell mc the timr and receive my blessing," " Just five minutes after nine. No charge, — keep your blessing." " 1'hanks. It wouldn't have impoverished me, aunty, noi so enriched you that you could live without other means." He got up murmuring, " Just five minutes after nine," and faced his clock. " Ah," said he, " you are doing better than usual. You are only thirty-four minutes wrong. Let me see . . . let me see . . . Thirty- tliree and twenty-one are fifty -four ; four times fifty-four are two hundred and thirty-six. One ofi", leaves two hun- dred and thii'ty-five. That's right." He turned the hands of his clock forward till they marked twenty -five minutes to v-ne, and said, " Now see if you can't keep right for a whUe . . . else I'll rafile you !" He sat down at the desk again, and said, "Aunt Susan ! " '•' Yes, deal-." " Had breakfast ? " " Yes, indeed, an hour ago." " Busy ? " " T-iO, — except sewing. Why ? " " Got any company ? " " No, but I t'xpect some at half past nine." " I wish 1 did. I'm lonesome. I want to talk to .■0)> r^body." " Very well, talk to me." ' But this is very private." •' Don't be afraid, — talk right along ; there's nobody here but me." 92 ALONZO FITZ CLAHENCE AND ROSANNAH EIHELTON i l| " I hardly know wliether to venture oi- not, but" — "But what i* Oh, don't stop there? You kno('' yon can trust uie, Alonzo, — you know you can.", " I feel it, aunt, but this is very serious. It atiects nic deeply, — me and all the family, — even the whole com- munity." "Oh, Ahmzo, tell me ! I will never Ireathe a word of it. What i8 it ? " " Aunt, if I might dare " — "Oh, please go on ! I love you and can feel for you. Tell me all. Confide in me. What ix it { " The weather ! " " Plague take the weathei- 1 I don't see how you can have the heart to serve me so, Lon." " There, there, aunty dear, I'm sorry ; I am, on my honour. I won't do it again. Do you forgive me ? " " Yes, since you seem so sincere about it, though I know I oughtn't to. You will fool me again as soon as I have forgotten this time." "No, I won't, honour bright. But such weather, oh such weather ! Youv'e got to keep your spirits up arti- ficially. It is snowy, and blowy, and gusty, and bitter cold ! How is the weather with you ? " " Warm and rainy and melancholy. The mourners go about the streets with their umbrellas running streams from the end of every whalebone. There's an elevated double pavement of umbrellas stretching down the sides of the streets as far as I can see. I've got a fire for cheer- fulnessi and the windows open to keep cool. But it is vain, it is useless : noth- ^g comes in but the balmy breath of December, with its bi len of mocking odours from the f ALON/.O FITZ CLARKNCK AND ItOSANNAM KTJP "''(►N. 93 I- I. fl 'lai poHHOHstlu' roalin outsido, aiu' • j -i- • \ \ their la Fusion whilst the spirit of imui is low, and tla> a. ptiidy spl(!ii(l()urs in his face wliilst ]»is soul is clothed in sackcloth and ashes and his heart breaketh." Alonzo open(!(lhis lips to say, " You ought to print that and get it fianie J Hiotographic Sciences Corporation 33 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 873-4503 ^ s^ f\ V \\ ^9> V 6^ ■^ "i^'^ ^ 94 ALONZO FITZ CLARENCE AND ROSANNAH ETHELTON. said in a guarded, confidential voice, " Aunty, who is this divine singer ? " " She is the company I was expecting. Stays with me a month or two. I will introduce you. Miss " — " For goodness sake, wait a moment, aunt Susan ! You never stop to think what you are about ! " He flew to his bed-chamber, and returned in a moment perceptibly changed in his outward appearance, and re- marking, snappishly, — " Hang it, she would have introduced me to this angel in that sky-blue dressing-gown with red-hot lappels ! Women never think, when they get agoing." He hastened and stood by the desk, and said eagerly, " Now, aunty, I am ready," and fell to smiling and bow- ing with all the persuasiveness and elegance that were in him. " Very well. Miss Rosannah Ethelton, let me introduce to you my favourite nephew, Mr. Alonzo Fitz Clarence. There ! You are both good people, and I like you ; so I am going to trust you together while 1 attend to a few household affairs. Sit down, Rosannah ; sit down, Alonzo. Good-by ; I shan't be gone long." ^ ' Alonzo had been bowing and smiling all the while, and motioning imaginary young ladies to sit down in imagi- nary chairs, but now he took a seat himself, mentally saying, " Oh, this is luck ! Let the winds blow, now and the snow drive, and the heavens frown ! Little 1 care ! " While these young people chat themselves into an acquaintanceship, let us take the liberty of inspecting the sweeter and fairer of the two. She sat alone at her graceful ease, in a richly furnished apartment which was ALONZO FITZ CLARENCE AND ROSANNAH ETHELTON. 95 t:-'.v Kir !%-■ manifestly the private parlour of a refined and sensible lady, if signs and symbols may go for anything. For instance, by a low, comfortable chair stood a dainty, top- heavy work-stand, whose summit was a fancifully em- broidered shallow basket, with vari-coloured crewels, and other strings and odds and ends, protruding from under the gaping lid and hanging down in negligent profusion. On the floor lay bright shreds of Turkey-red, Prussian blue, and kindred fabrics, bits of ribbon, a spool or two, a pair of scissors, and a roll or so of tinted silken stuffs. On a luxurious sofa, upholstered with some sort of soft Indian goods wrought in black and gold threads inter- webbed with other threads not so pronounced in colour, lay a great square of coarse white stuff, upon whose sur- face a rich bouquet of flowers was growing, under the deft cultivation of the crochet needle. The household cat was asleep on this work of art. In a bay window stood an easel with an unfinished picture on it, and a palette and brushes on a chair beside it. Thero were books every- where : Robertson's Sermons, Tennyson, Moody and San- key, Hawthorne, Rab and his Friends, cook-books, prayer- books, pattern-books, — and books about all kinds of odious and exasperating pottery, of course. There was a piano, with a deck -load of music, and more in a tender. There was a great plenty of pictures on the walls, on the shelves of the mantel-piece, and around generally ; where coignes of vantage offered were statuettes, and quaint and pretty gimcracks, and rare and costly specimens of peculiarly devilish china. The bay-window gave upon a garden that was ablaze with foreign and domestic flowers and flower- ing shrubs ' V 06 ALONZO FITZ CLARENCK AND ROSANNAH ETHELTON But the sweet young girl was the daintiest thing those premises, within or without, could offer for contempla- tion ; delicately chiseled features, of Grecian cast; her complexion the pure snow of a japonica that is receiving a faint reflected enrichment from some scarlet neighbour of the garden ; great, soft blue eyes fringed with long, curving lashes ; an expression made up of the truthful- ness of a child and the gentleness of a fawn ; a beautiful head crowned with its own prodigal gold ; a lithe and rounded figure, whose every attitude and movement were instinct with native grace. Her dress and adornment were marked by that exqui- site harmonv that can come onlv of a fine nature^ taste perfected by culture. Her gown was of a simple ^' enta tulle, cut bias, traversed by three rows of li^ blue flounces, with the selvage edges turned up with ashes-of- roses-chenille ; overdress of dark bay tarleton, with scarlet satin lambrequins ; corn-coloured polciiaise, en panier, looped with mother-of-pearl buttons and silver cord, and hauled aft and made fast by buff"- velvet lashings ; basque of lavender reps, picked out with Valenciennes; low neck, short sleeves ; maroon-velvet necktie edged with delicate pink silk; inside handkerchief of some simple three-ply in- grain fabric of a soft saffron tint; coral bracelets and locket-chain ; coiffure of forget-me-nots and lilies of the valley massed around a noble calla. This was all ; yet even in this subdued attire she was divinely beautiful. Tlien what must she have been when adorned for the festival or the ball ? All this time she has been busily chatting with Alonzo, unconscious of our inspection. The minutes still sped. :■■'?. ^ ■»,■• a i ! a % ALONZO FITZ CLARENCE AND llOSANNAH ETHKLTON. 97 and still she talked. By and by she happened to look up, and saw the clock. A crimson blush sent its rich Hood through her cheeks, and she exclaimed, — " There, good-by , Mr. Fitz Clarence ; I must go now ! " She sprang from her chair with such haste that she hardly heard the young man's answering good-by. She stood radiant, graceful, beautiful, and gazed, wondering, upon the accusing clock. Presently her pouting lips parted, and she said, — " Five minutes after eleven ! Nearly two hours, and it did not seem twenty minutes! Oh, deai-, what will he think of me ! " At the sell -same moment Alonzo was staring at his clock. And presently he said, — " Twenty-five minutes to three ! Nearly two hours, and I didn't believe it was two minutes ! Is it possible that this clock is humbugging me again? JVliss Ethelton ! Just one moment, please. Are you there yet ? " " Yes, but be quick ; I'm going right away." • " Would you be so kind as to tell me what time it IS? The girl blushed again, murmured to herself, "It's right down cruel of him to ask me ! " and then spoke up and answered with admirably counterfeited unconcern, ' Five minutes after nine." " Oh, thank you ! You have to go now, have you?" "Yes." ». " I m sorry. No reply. " Miss Ethelton ! '* "Well'" ', 98 ALONZO FITZ CLAUKNCE AND ROSANNAH ETHELTON. " You — ^you're there yet, ain't you ?" " Yes ; but please hurry. What did you want to say ?" " Well, I — well, nothing in particular. It's very lone- some here. It's asking a great deal, I know, but would you mind talking with me again by and by, — that is, if it will not trouble you too much ? " " 1 don't know— but I'll think about it. I'll try." " Oh, thanks ! Miss Ethelton ... Ah me, she's gone, and here are the black clouds and the whirling snow and the raging winds come again ! But she said good-hy \ She didn't say good morning, she said good by ! . . . The clock was right, after all. What a lightning-winged two hours it was !" He sat down, and gazed dreamily into his fire for a while, then heaved a sigh and said, — " How wonderful it is ! Two little hours ago I was a free man, and now my heart's in San Francisco !" About that time Rosannah Ethelton, propped in the window-seat of her bed-chamber, book in hand, was gazing vacantly out over the rainy seas that washed the Golden Gate, and whispered to herself, " How different he is from poor Burley, with his empty head and his simple little antic talent of mimicry ! " . '■^fr 'OUR weeks later Mr. Sidney Algernon Burley was en- tertaining a gay luncheon company, in a sumptuous drawing-room on Telegraph Hill, with some capital imita- tions of the voices and gestures of certain popular actors ALONZO FITZ CLARENCE AND ROSANNAH ETHELTON. 99 ;o if H V a a I: and San Franciscan literary people and Bonanza grandees. He was elegantly upholstered, and was a handsome fel- low, barring a trifling east in his eye. He seemed very jovial, but nevertheless he kept his eye on the door with an expectant and uneasy watchfulness. By and by a nobby lackey appeared, and delivered a message to the mistress, who nodded her head understandingly. That seemed to settle the thing for Mr. Burley ; his vivacity decreased little by little, and a dejected look began to creep into one of his eyes and a sinister one into the other. The rest of the company departed in due time, leaving him with the mistress, to whom he said, — " There is no longer any question about it. She avoids me. She continua,ily excuses herself. If I could see her, if I could speak to her only a moment, — but this sus- pense." — "Perhaps her seeming avoidance is mere accident, Mr. Burley. Go to the small drawing-room up stairs and amuse yourself a moment. I will dispatch a household order that is on my mind, and then I will go to her room. Without doubt she will be persuaded to see you." Mr. Burley went up stairs, intending to go to the small drawing-room, but as he was passing " Aunt Susan's " private parlour, the door of which stood slightly ajar, he heard a joyous laugh which he recognised ; so without knock or announcement he stepped confidently in. But before he could make his presence known he heard words that harrowed up his soul and chilled his young blood. He heard a voice say, — ^ " Darling, it has come • » 100 ALONZO FITZ CLARENCE AND ROSANNAH ETHELTON. Then he heard Rosannah Ethelton, whose back was . toward him say, — " So has yours, dearest !" He saw her bowed form bend lower ; he heard her kiss something, — not merely once, but again and again ! His soul raged within him. The heart-breaking conversation went on : — " Rosannah, I know you must be beautiful, but this is dazzling, this is blinding, this is intoxicating! " " Alonzo, it is such happiness to hear you say it. I know it is not true, but I am so grateful to have you think it is, nevertheless ! I knew you must have a noble face, but the grace and majesty of the reality beggar the poor creation of my fancy." Burley heard that rattling shower of kisses again. " Thank you, my Rosannah ! The photograph flatters me, but you must not allow yourself to think of that. • Sweetheart ? " " Yes, Alonzo." "I am so happy, Rosannah." " Oh, Alonzo, none that have gone before me knew what love was, none that come after me will ever know what happiness is. I float in a gorgeous cloudland, a boundless firmament of enchanted and bewildering ectascy!" " Oh, my Rosannah ! — for you are mine, are you not ? " " Wholly, oh, wholly yours, Alonzo, now and forever ! All the day long, and all through my nightly dreams, one song sings itself, and its sweet burden is, ' Alonzo Fitz Clarence, Alonzo Fitz Clarence, Eastport, State of Maine!'" 1 ALONZO FITZ CLAREN• curtain, and discovered a , • V ALONZO FITZ CLARENCE AND ROSANNAH ETHELTON. 109 telephone. He bent over, and as the last note died away he burst forth with the exclamation, — " Oh, thank Heaven, found at last ! Speak to me, Ro- sannah, dearest ! The cruel mystery has been unraveled it was the villain Burley who mimicked my voice and wounded you with insolent speech. ! " There was a breathless pause, a waiting age to Alonzo; then a faint sound came, framing itself into language, — " Oh, say those precious words again, Alonzo ! " " They are the truth, the veritable truth, my Rosannah, and you shall have the proof , ample and abundant proof!" " Oh, Alonzo, stay by me ! Leave me not for a mo- ment ! Let me feel that you are near me ! Tell me we shall never be parted more ! Oh, this happy hour, this blessed hour, this memorable hour ! " " We will make record of it, my Rosannah ; every year, as this dear hour chimes from the clock, we will celebrate it with thanksgivings, all the years of our life." " We will, we will Alonzo ! " " Four minutes after six, in the evening, my Rosannah, shall henceforth" — " Twenty-three minutes after twelve.afternoon, shall" — " Why, Rosannah, darling, where are you ? " " In Honolulu, Sandwich Islands. And where are you? Stay by me ; do not leave me for a moment. I cannot bear it. Are you at home ? " " No, dear, I am in New York,— a patient in the doctor's hands." An agonizing shriek came buzzing to Alonzo's ear, like the sharp buzzing of a hurt gnat ; it lost power in travel- ling five thousand miles. Alonzo hastened to say, — 110 ALONZO FITZ CLARENCE AND ROSANNAH ETHELTON. " Calm yourself, my child. It is nothing. Already I am getting well under the sweet healing of your presence. Rosannah ? " " Yes, Alonzo ? Oh, how you terrified me ! Say on." " Name the happy day, Rosannah ! " There was a little pause. Then a diflSdent small voice replied, " I blush — but it is with pleasure, it is with hap- piness. Would — would you like to have it soon ? " " This very night, Rosannah ! Oh, let us risk no more delays. Let it be now ! — this very night, this very mo- ment ! " " Oh, you impatient creature ! I have nobody here but my good old uncle, a missionary for a generation, and now retired from service, — nobody but him and his wife. I would so dearly like it if your mother and your aunt Susan " — " Our mother and our aunt Susan, my Rosannah." " Yes, our mother and our aunt Susan, — I am content to word it so if it pleases you ; I would so like to have them present." . , , . s " So would I. Suppose you telegraph aunt Susan. How long would it take her to come ? " . /■ " The steamer leaves San Francisco day after to-mor- row. The passage is eight days. She would be here the 31st of March." > .. " Then name the 1st of A^jril : do, Rosannah, dear." " Mercy, it would make us April fools, Alonzo ! " -* " So we be the happiest ones that that day's sun looks down upon in the whole broad expanse of the globe, why need we care ? Call it the 1st of April, dear." ,**:. -fi i ALONZO FITZ CLARKNCE AND ROSANNAH ETHLETUN. Ill " Then the 1st of April it shall be, with all my heart ! " " Oh, happiness ! Name the hour, too, Rosannah." " I like the morning, it is so blithe. Will eight in the morning do, Alonzo ! " " The loveliest hour in the day, — since it will make you mine." There was a feeble but frantic sound for some little time as if wool-lipped, disembodied spirits were exchanging kisses ; then Rosannah said, " Excuse me just a moment, dear ; I have an appointment, and am called to meet it." The young girl sought a large parlor and took her place at a window which looked out upon a beautiful scene. To the left one could view the charming Nuuana Valley, fringed with its ruddy flush of tropical flowers and its plumed and graceful cocoa palms; its rising foothills clothed in the shining green of lemon, citron, and orange groves ; its storied precipice beyond, where the flrstKarae- hameha drove his defeated foes over to their destruction, — ^a spot that had forgotten its grim history, no doubt, for now it was smiling, as almost always at noonday, under the glowing arches of a succession of rainbows. In front of the window one could see the quaint town, and here and there a picturesque gi-oup of dusky natives, enjoying the blistering weather ; and far to the right lay the rest- less ocean, tossing its white mane in the sunshine. Rosannah stood there, in her filmy white raiment, fan- ning her flushed and heated face, waiting. A Kanaka boy, clothed in a damaged blue neck-tie and part of a silkhat, thrust hit head in at the door, and announced, " 'Frisco haole !" " , " Show him in," said the girl, straightening herself up 112 ALONZO FITZ CLARENCE AND ROSANNAH ETHELTON. and assuming a meaning dignity. Mr. Sidney Algernon, Burley entered, clad from head to heel in dazzling snow, — that is to say, in the lightest and whitest of Irish linen. He moved eagerly forward, but the girl made a gesture and gave him a look which checked him suddenly. She said, coldly, " I am here, as I promised. I believed your assertions, I yielded to your importunities, and said I would name the day. I name the 1st of April, — eight in the morning. Now go." " Oh, my dearest, if the gratitude of a life-time " — " Not a word. Spare me all sight of you, all communica- tion with you, until that hour. No, — no supplications ; I will have it so." When he was gone, she sank exhausted in a chair, for the long siege of troubles she had undergone had wasted her strength. Presently she said, " What a narrow escape ! If the hour appointed had been an hour earlier — Oh, horror, what an escape I have made ! And to think I had come to imagine I was loving this beguiling, this truthless, this treacherous monster ! Oh, he shall repent his villainy!" ^ Let us now draw this history to a close, for little more needs to be told. On the 2nd of the ensuing April, the Honolula Advertiser contained this notice : — Married. — In this city, by telephone, yesterday morn- ing, at eight o'clock, by Rev. Nathan Hays, assisted by Rev. Nathaniel Davis, of New York, Mr. Alonzo Fitz Clarence, of Eastport, Maine, U. S., and Miss Rosannah Ethelton, of Portland, Oregon, U. S. Mrs. Susan How[- ALONZO FITZ CLARENCE AND ROSANNAH ETHELTON. 113 land, of San Francisco, a friend of the hiide, was present, she being the guest of the Rev. Mr. Hays and wife, uncle and aunt of the bride. Mr. Sidney Algernon Burley, of San Francisco, was also present, but did not remain till the conclusion of the marriage service. Captain Haw- thorne's beautiful yacht, tastefully decorated, was in wait- ing, and the happy bride and her friends immediately de- parted on a bridal trip to Lahaina and Haleakala. The New York papers of the same date contained this notice : — Married. — In this city, yesterday, by telephone, at half past two in the morning, by Rev. Nathaniel Davis, assisted by Rev. Nathan Hays, of Honolulu, Mr, Alonzo Fitz Clarence, of Eastport, Maine, and Miss Rosanna Ethelton, of Portland, Oregon. The parents and' several friends of the bridegroom were present, and enjoyed a sumptous breakfast and much festivity until nearly sun- rise, and then departed on a bridal trip to the Aquarium, the bridegi-oom's state of health not admitting of a more extended journey. t Toward the close of that memorable day, Mr. and Mrs. Alonzo Fitz Clarence were buried in sweet converse con- cerning the pleasures of their several bridal tours, when suddenly the young wife exclaimed : " 0, Lonny, I forgot ! I did what I said I would." " Did you, dear ? " " Indeed I did. I made him the April fool ! And I told him so, too ! Ah, it was a charming surprise ! There ■€?:■. 114 ALONZO FITZ CLARENCE AND ROSANNAH ETI5ELT0N. he stood, sweltering in a black dress suit, with the mer- <;ury leaking out of the top of the thermometer, waiting to be married. You should have seen the look he gave when I whispered it in his ear! Ah, his wickedness ''.ost me many a heartache and many a tear, but the score was all squared up, then. So the vengeful feeling went right out of my heart, and I begged him to stay, and said I for- gave him everything. But he wouldn't. He said he would live to be avenged ; said he would make our lives a curse to us : But he can't, can he, dear ? " " Never in this world, ray Rosannah ! " Aunt Susan, the Orfegonian grandmother, and the young ci>uple and their Eastport parents are all happy at this writing, and likely to remain so. Aunt Susan brought the bride from the Islands, accompanied her across oui- continent, and had the happiness of witnessing the rap- turous meeting between on adoring husband and wife who had never seen each other until that moment. A word about the wretched Burley, whose wicked machinations came so near wrecking the hearts and lives of our poor young friends, will be sufficient. In a mur- derous attempt to seize a crippled and helpless artisan who he fancied had done him some small offence, he fell into a caldron of boiling oil and expired before he could be extinguished. N Mark Twain. •:":" *-;-". 'A', i-r. \