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Manuscript, Archives,
and Rare JBook Library
EMORY UNIVERSITY
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turer, on Anatomy, and Physiology, at St. George's School of Medicine.
" I have no hesitation in stating, after* a fair trial of Chlorodyne, that I have
never met with any medicine so efficacious as an Anti-spasmodic and Sedative. I
have used it in Consumption, Asthma, Diarrhoea, and other diseases; an^f ^m most
perfectly satisfied with the results."
From Dr. B. J. Boulton & Co., Horncastle.
"We have, made pretty extensive use of Chlorodyne in our practice lately, and
look upon it as an excellent direct Sedative and Anti-spasmodic. It seems to allay
pain and irritation in whatever organ, and of whatever cause. It induces a feeling
of comfort and.quietude not obtainable by any other remedy and it seems to
possess this great advantage over all other sedatives, that it leaves no unpleasant
after effects."
Caution.—The extraordinary medical reports of the efficacy of Chlorodyne
render it of vital importance that the public should obtain the genuine, which bears
the words, " Dr. J, CoUis Browne's Chlorodyne."
Vice-Chancellor -Wood stated that Dr. Colus Browne was Undoubtedly the
Inventor of Chlorodyne; that the whole story of the defendant, Freeman, was
deliberately u&true.
Sold in %ottles at ii. I\d., 2s. 9d., and 4J. 6d. by all Chemists.
Sole Manufacturer :
J. T. DAVENPORT, GreaRRussell Street, London, W.C.
Pj^jRT, Grealj^Ri
W. TARN & Co.
MANTLES,. BONNETS,' COSTUMES,
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prompt attention.
PATTERNS SENT FREE.
RANDOM SHOTS.
BY THE SAME AUTHOR.
Uniform, with this Volume.
OUT OF THE HURLY BURLY;
or, Life in an Odd Corner. With 400 Illus¬
trations by Arthur B. Frost.
ELBOW ROOM. A Novel without
a Plot. Profusely Illustrated by Arthur B.
Frost.
London: Ward, Lock, & Co., Salisbury Square, E.C.
RANDOM SHOTS.
BY
MAX ADELER,
AUTHOR OF "OUT OF THE HURLY BURLY," " ELB"OW ROOM,"
ETC., ETC.
WITH NUMEROUS HUMOROUS ILLUSTRATIONS
BY
ARTHUR B. FROST.
/ S--1 j
COPYRIGHT,
Ufanbott:
WARD, LOCK, & CO., WARWICK HOUSE,
DORSET BUILDINGS, SALISBURY SQUARE, E.C.
PREFACE.
^HIS volume of stories and sketches' is
1*^ offered to the public with a confidence
born of the fact that the two books whicji
preceded it from my pen, " Out of the
Hurly-Burly " and " Elbow-Room," have been
sold in numbers so large as to leave no room
for doubt that they have been received with
favour. That this unpretentious work will prove
equally popular is a reasonable expectation, for some
portions of its contents are at least equal in merit,
and in attractiveness to lovers of honest fun, to the
best that may be found between the covers of its
predecessors. Doubtless, also, it has its full share of
faults; but if these are forgiven by generous readers
as readily as others have been in the past, I shall
have no reason to complain that I have been treated
with unkindness.
vi
PREFACE.
It is only fair to say to the reader of the Mormon
story in this volume that if he is reminded of Artemus
Ward by a phrase which alludes to a number of
hearts " beating as one," he cannot excuse me upon
the theory of unconscious plagiarism. I took the
idea deliberately, because it exactly suited the place
into which- it was put.
MAX ADELER.
CONTENTS.
—r*
page
Professor Quackenboss ...... 9
Jerome Pinnickson's Mother-in-Law; with an
Apology for Mothers-in-Law generally . 24
The Adventures of Abner Byng ; with some Re¬
flections concerning certain Moral Idiots 48
IIow Jack Forbes was Avenged . , . .65
Babies. Certain Facts concerning their De¬
moralization .... 85
The Glee-Club Tournament ; with a Few
Thoughts respecting the Nocturnal Sere¬
nade 97
Mr. Fisher's Bereavements . . . . .113
Mr. Toombs, the Undertaker .... 124
viii
CONTENTS.
PAGE
The Shoals Lighthouse. A Serious Story . . 137
The Tragedy of Thompson Dunbar . . . 156
Miss Hammer's Lovers . . * . . . 204
Mr. Skinner's Night in the Under-World . . 264
Miss Wilmer's Adventure 314
*i-iOTD0M+-gfl0JF.;3. *•
JWfesstitj Quatfon&im,
HERE the Profes¬
sor came from
originally, or how
he even obtained
the title of " Pro¬
fessor," nobody-
knew. He ap¬
peared suddenly
in the village one
day, and renting
a small shop, he
hung out a sign
bearing the inscription, " Professor S. Quackenboss, Phre¬
nologist and Indian Herb Doctor," and sat down to wait
for business that never came.
A week or two after his arrival, he determined to give
a free lecture upon phrenology, for the purpose of intro¬
ducing himself to the people of the community. He
PROFESSOR QUACKENBOSS.
rented a hall, and obtained quite a large audience. When
the hour for beginning the lecture arrived, the Professor
advanced and explained the science, and then invited
persons in the audience to come forward and permit him
to examine their skulls, and tell what were their charac¬
teristics. Several men offered themselves for this ordeal,
and the Professor contrived to come so near to the truth
in describing them, that he more than once excited a good
deal of applause.
Finally, old Mr. Duncan stepped up for examination.
He is an absent-minded man, and he wears a wig. While
dressing himself before coming to the lecture, he had
placed his wig on the bureau and accidentally tossed his
spectacle case into it. When he put the wig on it was
just like him not to notice the case, and so, when he
mounted the platform, he had a huge lump just over his
bump of combativeness. The Professor fingered about a
while over Mr. Duncan's head, and then said—
"We have here a somewhat remarkable skull. The
perceptive faculties strongly developed ; reflective facul¬
ties quite good; ideality large; reverence so great as to
be unusual; and benevolence very prominent. Secretive-
ness is small, and the subject, therefore, is a man of
candour and frankness ; he communicates what he knows
freely. We have also," said the Professor, still ploughing
his fingers through D.'s hair, " acquisitiveness not large ;
the subject is not a grasping, avaricious man, he gives
liberally, he—he—he——. Why, it can't be ! Yes. Why,
what in the—! Munificent Moses ! that's the most awful
development of combativeness I ever heard of ! Are you
a prize-fighter, eh ?'
12 PROFESSOR QDA CKENBOSS.
" Prize-fighter!" exclaimed Mr. D. " Why, what do
you mean ?'
" Never, been a soldier, or a pirate, or anything like
that ?"
"You certainly must be crazy."
"Ain't you fond of going into.scrimmages and rows
and hammering people ?"
" Certainly not."
"Well, sir, then you're untrue to your nature. The
way your head's built qualifies you, I should say, in a
special manner as a pugilist or a soldier. If you want to
fulfil your mission, you will devote the remainder of your
life.to battering up your fellow-man and keeping yourself
in one interminable war. You've got the' most fearful
fighting bump that ever decorated a human skull. It's
phenomenal. What'll you take for your head when you
die ? Gentlemen, this man is liable at any moment to
commence raging around the community like a wild cat,
banging you with a club or anything that comes handy.
It isn't safe for him to be at large."
Then Mr. Duncan put up his hand for the purpose of
feeling the bump, and he found the spectacle case. He
removed his wig, and there was the case resting upon his
left ear. Then the Professor, looking at it for a moment
in confusion, said—
" Ladies and gentlemen, we will now—the lecture is—
that is, I have no more—boy, put out those lights."
And Mr. Duncan replaced his wig, the Professor dis¬
appeared, and the audience laughingly dispersed.
After that the Professor did not dabble a great deal in
phrenology. He remained idly in his office during part
PROFESSOR QUACKENBOSS.
13
of each day, but as he was fond of conversation, and
rather unduly partial to stimulating beverages when they
could be obtained at the expense of other people, he used
to spend most of his time either at the tavern or at the
corner grocery, where he could give his ingenious views
of things generous expression to a crowd of amused
listeners.
One evening the Indian question came on for discus¬
sion at the grocery, where some of the leading men of the
village had dropped in, for it was the post-office also ; and
when two or three persons had expressed their opinions,
the Professor removed his pipe from his mouth, and
placing his feet upon the stove, while he tilted back^his
chair, said :
" I don't take the same view of the North American
Indians that most people do.
"Nowsome think that the red man displays a want of
good taste in declining to bathe himself; but I don't.
What is dirt ? It is simply—matter;—the same kind of
matter that exists everywhere. The earth is made of dirt;
the things we eat are dirt, and they grow in the dirt; and
when we die and are buried we return again to the dirt
from which we were made. Science says that all dirt is
clean. The savage Indian knows this ; his original mind
grasps this idea ; he has his eagle eye on science, and he
has no soap. Dirt is warm. A layer one-sixteenth of an
inch thick on a man is said by Professor Huxley to be as
comfortable as a fifty-dollar suit of clothes. Why, then,
should the child of the forest undress himself once a week
by scraping this off, and expose himself to the rude blasts
of winter? He has too much sense. His head is too
H
PROFESSOR Q UA CKENB OSS.
level to let him take a square wash more than once in
every twenty years, and even then he don't rub hard.
" And then, in regard to his practice of eating dogs ;
why shouldn't a man eat a dog ? A do,g sometimes eats
a man, and turn about is fair play. A well-digested dog
stowed away inside of a, Choctaw squaw, does more to
advance civilization and the Christian religion than a dog
that barks all night in a back yard, don't it ? And nothing
is more nutritious than dog. Professor Huxley says that
one pound of a dog's hind leg nourishes the vital forces
more than a waggon-load of bread and corned beef. It
contains more phosphorus and carbon. When dogs are
alive they agree with men, and there is no reason why they
shouldn't when they are dead. This nation will enter upon
a glorious destiny when it stops raising corn and potatoes,
and devotes itself more to growing crops of puppies.
"Now, many ignorant people consider scalping in¬
human. I don't. I look upon it as one of the most bene¬
ficent processes ever introduced for the amelioration of
the sufferings of the race. What is hair ? It is an excre¬
scence. If it grows, it costs a man a great deal of money
and trouble to keep it cut. If it falls out, the man becomes
bald and the flies bother him. What does the Indian do
in this emergency ? With characteristic sagacity he lifts
out the whole scalp and ends the annoyance and expense.
And then look at the saving from other sources. Pro¬
fessor Huxley estimates that 2,000 pounds of the food
that a man eats in a year go to nourish his hair. Remove
that hair and you save that much food. If I had my way
I would have every baby scalped when it is vaccinated, as
a measure of political economy. That would be states-
PROFESSOR QUACKENBOSS.
manship. I have a notion to organize a political party
on the basis of baby-scalping, and to go on the stump to
advocate it. If people had any sense, I might run" into
the Presidency as a baby-scalper.
"And as for the matter of the Indians wearing
rings through their noses, I don't see why people com¬
plain of that. Look at the advantage it gives a man when
he wants to hold
on to anything.
If a hurricane
strikes an Indian,
all he does is to
hook his nose to
a tree, and there
he is, fast and
sound. And' it
gives him some¬
thing to rest his
pipe on while he
smokes, while, in
the case of a man
with a pug, the ring helps to pull his proboscis down,
iand to make it a Roman nose. But I look at him
from a sanitary point of view. The Indian suffers from
catarrh. Now, what will cure that disease ? Metal in
the nose in which electricity can be collected. Professor
'Huxley says that the electricity in a metal ring two inches
in diameter will cure more catarrh than all the medicines
between here and Kansas. The child of nature, with
wonderful instinct, has perceived this, and he teaches
us a lesson. When we, with our higher civilization, begin
16 PROFESSOR QUACKENBOSS.
to throw away finger-rings and ear-rings, and to wear
rings in our noses, we shall be a hardier race. I am
going to direct the attention of Congress to the matter.
" Then take the objections that are urged to the Indian
practice of driving a stake through a man, and building
a bonfire on his stomach. What is their idea ? They
want to hold that man down. If they sit on him they
will obstruct the view of him. They put a stake through
,him, and there he is secured by simple means, and if it is
driven in carefully, it may do him good. Professor
Huxley says that he once knew a man who was cured of
yellow jaundice by falling on "a pale-fence, and having a
sharp-pointed paling run into him. And the bonfire may
be equally healthy. When a man's stomach is out of
order, you put a mustard-plaster on it. Why ? To warm
it. The red man has the same idea. He takes a few
faggots, lights them, and applies them to the abdomen.
It is a certain cure. Professor Huxley—"
" That's enough about Professor Huxley," said Miles,
the shopkeeper, interrupting the speaker. "We don't
care to hear any more about him."
" Don't care to hear any more about Huxley;" ex¬
claimed the Professor, with a look of feigned surprise
upon his face. " Don't want to hear any more about that
great and good man ! I can hardly believe it."
" Well, we don't, anyhow," said Miles.
The Professor rose, reflected a moment, and then
said : " Strange ! Strange ! that men prefer darkness to
light! That they would rather have blind ignorance than
the glorious truth!" Then he reached over the counter,
fumbled for a moment in the barrel, came up with a water
PF OFFSSOP Q UA CKFNB OSS.
17
cracker in his hand, and slowly sauntered through the
front door.
His feelings were hurt, but he was a forgiving man,
and so, after staying away for a day or two, he came back
again one night, and resumed his old place by the stove.
After awhile there was a lull in the conversation, and
the Professor, who had hitherto remained silent, cleared
his throat, and said, quietly—
" I see that they talk of putting up a monument to
Christopher Columbus. It's too bad the way people 've
been fooled about him. He never discovered America,
and I've made up my mind to let the people see what
kind of an old humbug he is."-
"You say that Columbus didn't discover America?"
said Mr. Partridge.
" Certainly he didn't. He was a mean, lubberly
rascal, who went paddling around in a scow, letting on he
was doing big things, when he hadn't courage enough to
get out of sight of land."
" Who did discover it then ?"
"Well, I'll tell you fellows in advance of publica¬
tion, but mind you keep quiet about it. It was Poti-
phar!"
" What was his first name ? "
" First name ? Why, he hadn't any. It was only
Potiphar—old Pharaoh's Potiphar, you 'know."
" How did you find out about it ?"
"Why, you know old Gridley, up in the city? Well,
last year he was in Egypt, and he brought home a
mummy, all wrapped up in bedclothes, and soldered
around with sealing-wax. Gridley asked me to come
2
i8
PROFESSOR QUACKENBOSS.
over and help to undress him, and so we went at that
miimmy, and after rolling off a couple of hundred yards of
calico, we reached him. Looked exactly like dried beef.
Black as your hat, and just about tender enough to chip
down for tea. Gridley said he'd like to know who the old
chap was, and I looked him over to find out. You know
how they put up a mummy, don't
you? Take out all his ma¬
chinery inside, and fill him up with
nutmegs and cinnamon. Then they
set a brass door-plate in his stomach?
and make some little memoranda, with obituary poetry,
and all that kind of thing. Anyhow, after polishing him
up with a flesh-brush for a minute or two, I found the
door-plate, and with some care I managed to read the
inscription on it. It was this : 11 am Potiphar, servant of
Pharaoh. I was buried three thousand years before the
Christian era. I discovered America. C. Columbus was
an impostor.' That's what the inscription said, and, in
PROFESSOR QUA CKENBOSS. ig
my opinion, that settles it. Now, I'll tell you what I'm
going to do. I've had a cast made of that dried beef,
and I intend to have it swelled all out and made into a
statue, and I'm going to set it up at my own expense,
alongside the statue of Columbus, and have a sign put on
it to the effect that Columbus is a-fraud. Then I intend
to get up a memorial to Congress, asking it to change the
name of the country to Potipharia, and to make Poti-
phar's sacred animal, the cat, the emblematical bird of the
nation, instead of the eagle."
" You say you read the inscription on the plate," said
Partridge. " I didn't know you understood the language."
" Can read it as easy as A B C."
"4 Buried three thousand years before the Christian
era,' I think you said it read. How did old Pot know
anything about the Christian era, if he died that long
before ?"
44 Blamed if I know. Cast his prophetic eyes over the
future, I s'pose."
44 Well, how could he tell that Columbus was going to
claim to discover America ? "
"That's so. I dunno. Is kind of queer."
44 Do you know what I think of you ?" asked Part¬
ridge.
"What?"
" I think that if there was a statue of a humbug to be
erected, the nation would choose you for the honour,
instead of Columbus, or any other man, ancient or
modern."
" Maybe it would! maybe it would!" said the Pro¬
fessor ; and then he refilled his pipe from Partridge's
20 PROFESSOR QUACKENBOSS.
tobacco-pouch, which was lying in a box by his side, and
relapsed into silence.
It was never known why the Professor designed his
great Nebuchadnezzar enterprise, but .some people had a
dark suspicion that he proposed to absorb for his own use
any money that he secured. He entered the office of the
Argus one day, and producing a huge roll of manuscript
he said :
" I've got something here that I want you to publish.
It's a ' Vindication of Nebuchadnezzar.' "
"A what?"
"I say I've got here a 'Vindication of Nebuchad¬
nezzar.' The object of it is to set Nebuchadnezzar right
with the public, to clear up his record and give him some
.kind of a chance."
" My dear sir, the public don't care anything about
Nebuchadnezzar. Our space is too limited for anything
so unimportant."
" I think you are wrong. For about three thousand
years people's minds have been prejudiced against that
great and good man. I've found some new records about
him on some Babylonian bricks in the Patent Office at
Washington, which present the matter in a new light.
My intention now is that the Argus shall create a sensa¬
tion by publishing these facts, together with fac-similes
of a cart-load or two of the bricks, and then I shall
ask you to head a subscription list for a Nebuchad¬
nezzar Monument Fund. How much'll I put you down
for ?"
" Professor, you must excuse me. The subject is too
unimportant for my attention,"
■PROFESSOR QUACKENBOSS. 21
"You make a mistake. I tell you the public mind is
excited about the matter. Look at the frightful con¬
sequences of permitting these erroneous impressions about
Nebuchadnezzar to .continue ! Your young men are learn¬
ing them in the divinity schools. They carry them out
into the world, into heathen lands.- The ignorant African
upon the banks of the Niger is taught to stay.awake at
nights in order to denounce Nebuchadnezzar. The
deluded Esquimaux amid the frozen seas paddles about
in his canoe harpooning seals, with the conviction that
Nebuchadnezzar was a tyrannical old rascal. The red
Indian, bounding over his native plains or removing
the hair from the summit of his enemy, is instructed
to howl as he reflects upon the misconduct of Nebu¬
chadnezzar. The almond-eyed children of China mingle
execrations of Nebuchadnezzar with their most ordi¬
nary conversation. The whole race is down on him.
He is the victim of universal disapprobation, now isn't
he?"
" I don't think he is."
"Now, how would you like it if for the next three
thousand years everybody was to believe that you were an
old reprobate who ate grass ?"
" I wouldn't care."
" Oh, well, maybe you ain't a sensitive man. Nebuchad¬
nezzar was. His feelings were easily hurt. Old Baby¬
lonian bricks all mention that. Now this vindication of
him will run through your paper about two months, and
it's bound to create such enthusiasm for the old man that
people '11 go without food to contribute money to run up
some kind of a tombstone for him. And when I get
22
PROFESSOR QUACKENEOSS.
through with him I've got another serial vindicating Bel-
shazzar, that '11 run for a couple of months more, and then
people '11 be hungry to get out a monument for him.
N ow you mark me: this nation '11 not be ten years
older before all those old chaps 'li have monuments
strung all along every where to them. There's going
to be an awakening on the subject in the popular mind.
I'm going to set it up so's when anybody says anything
against Nebuchadnezzar the folks '11 turn out and hang
him to the nearest tree. A popular idea, you under¬
stand. Just wild about him."
" I'm going to try to remain calm."
" Now, what'll you pay me a line for this vindication?"
" Pay you ! Why I wouldn't print it if you'd pay me
a dollar a line ! "
"What! Wouldn't give a lift to an old man that's
been imposed on for three or four thousand years ?
Wouldn't do him a good turn, now he's in his grave and
can't help himself ?"
" Certainly not."
"Well, well! I've heard a good deal about the
liberality of a free press, and about journalistic enterprise,
but I can't see it. I thought, of course, that any news-
paper'd come to the rescue of an unfortunate fellow-creature
when he's in trouble."
"Well, I won't."
" Oh, all right; all right; but mark me! I'm going to
scratch on a brick somewheres that you are a reprobate,
with the instincts of a hyena and the intellect of a shrimp;
and I'm going to bury that brick where it '11 be turned up
in three or four thousand years, so the people of those
PROFESSOR QUACKENBOSS.
23
times '11 know what to think oiyou. I'll fix you, old boy,
you see if I don't."
Then Professor Quackenboss rolled up the vindication,
rubbed his nose on his sleeve, and went down-stairs
warm with indignation.
gram* Jimtidtstrn's
WITH
AN APOLOGY FOR MOTHERS-IN-LAW
GENERALLY.
HE mother-in-law
. has not had fair
play, She suffers
with the widow and
the old maid, but
she has been more
cruelly abused,
more mercilessly ri¬
diculed than either.
Like them, she is
not responsible for
her condition, but,
unlike them, the
man who complains the most about her is he who
elevated her to the position she holds—namely, the man
who married her daughter.
She has been the subject of countless brutal stories^
JEROME PINNICKSON'S MOTHER-IN-LAIV. 25
myriads of offensive jests, and quantities of sarcastic
rhymes. Into all of these has entered an element of
bitterness which does not appear in the jibes that are
hurled at the widow and the spinster.
Malice is the inspiration of the assaults upon the
mother-in-law. Perhaps it is savagery born of a sense of
detected guilt—guilt which has been hidden from the too
confiding wife, but detected promptly by the penetrating
eye of the mother-in-law. She is not blinded by love for
the man; she is made vigilant by love for the wife, and
to perfect clearness of vision she adds that large and
generous experience of the methods of devious and de¬
ceitful husbands, which enables her at once to laugh to
scorn the hypocrisy which attempts to excuse late hours
upon the plea of business, or to offer the claims of the
lodge in explanation of absent evenings that are spent-in
conviviality.
For men who are guilty of such crimes, the mother-in-
law operates as a kind of second conscience. She is an
agent of the moral law to convey reproof; perhaps to
execute vengeance. In such a character she deserves
respect. The sinner who quails beneath her majestic
glance of course does not like her. Neither does the
thief like the halter. But for the part she plays in the
economy of the universe she is entitled to the reverence
of the good.
There are diversities of mothers-in-law, as of all other
things ; and it does happen sometimes that a worthy and
well-conducted man finds himself subjected to a mother-
in-law who is a real affliction. But all things are wisely
ordered in this world. All the saints have been made
26 JEROME FINNICKSONN MOTHER-IN-LAW.
perfect through suffering. The thorn in the flesh some¬
times points the way to celestial joys. A terrific mother-
in-law may be good for discipline. She should be regarded
very much as an ascetic regards a hair-cloth shirt: as
something which subdues the body with the intent to
purify the spirit. She is hard to bear, of course, but so
are all the trials of life ; and yet if life had no trials no¬
body would ever want to get to heaven.
There may be men who, when they join the church
triumphant, will be largely indebted for their felicity to a
fearful mother-in-law. Let them submit themselves to
her now, with cheerful resignation, looking upon her as a
possible conducer to a blissful hereafter.
It is worthy of notice that the mother-in-law is never
spoken of with disrespect in the Bible. Ruth, the most
charming woman in the Old Testament history, obtained
a husband and an immortality of admiration because she
loved her mother-in-law and treated her kindly. One of
the signs of the troublous times that are to come upon the
earth will be that the daughter-in-law will be against her
mother-in law. Possibly we may attribute the fall of man
to the fact that Adam had no mother-in-law to look after
him and his wife and to warn them, as the efficient
inother-in law always will, against doing wrong. Solo¬
mon was the wisest man that ever lived, and he had seven
hundred mothers-in-law, unless some of his wives were
orphans, and there is not a reproachful word concerning
them in any. of his writings. The modern man who has
but one, and who growls about her, ought to consider this
and refrain.
The chances are that most of the men who make com-
JEROME FINNIC JOS ON'S MOTHER-IN-LAW. 27
plaint are in fact under serious obligations to the women
whom they dislike. A good mother-in law in a house is
really a well-spring of pleasure to a properly constituted
husband. She is assiduous in taking care of the baby,
and the serviceableness of her knowledge concerning the
most effective methods of carrying the infant through
criticial periods, the efficiency with which she dispenses
of house-cleaning attack the dwelling she is worth as
much as two servant girls and a coloured man.
It is the fate of her sex to be misrepresented. It is a
part of the cruel law which maintains the subjection of
woman that the mother-in law should be vilified con¬
tinually. But she suffers and is strong. Who ever heard
of a mother-in-law rushing into print with abuse of her
t ^ I
paregoric, measures out ipe¬
cac, and compounds spice-
plaisters, fills the minds of
just men with sentiments of
admiration and thankfulness.
The average mother-in-
law is an over-match for the
wiliest hired girl of the
period. She knows all about
the proportion of soap to the
week's washing, and she has
some occult power which
enables her to detect an un¬
naturally low tide in the
sugar bucket. In a sick
room she is a ministering
angel, and when the agonies
28 JEROME PINNICKSON'S MOTHER-IN-LAW.
son-in-law ? And if mothers-in-law should retaliate how
mightily could they prevail! If every mother-in-law
should relieve her mind by telling what she knows of her
persecutor, probably many men of fair reputation would
have to take much lower seats in the social synagogue
than those that they occupy at present.
Jerome Pinnickson had a mother-in-law who was filled
with deep anxiety to escape the reproach that attaches to
the women of her class as a rule.
As soon as her daughter was married to Pinnickson,
and it was arranged that Mrs. Carboy—Mrs. Pinnickson's
mother—was to come to live with her child, Mrs. Carboy
said :
"Helen, dear! I am very desirous that Jerome shall
not regard me as most men regard their wives' mothers,
and I am determined to try very hard to make myself
agreeable and to do what I can to make Jerome love me."
" I know he will, mother."
" I hope so, Helen. Most mothers-in-law are so soli¬
citous for their daughters' welfare that they forget the
rights of the husbands, and the result too often is that
they come between husband and wife and cause trouble
and dissension."
" But you won't do that, I am certain."
" No, Helen, I trust not. I have made up my mind to
devote more attention to Jerome than to you ; to show
myself eager to make his home happy, to anticipate every
want, and to pay Ijim those little attentions for which'men
are always so grateful. Ah! my dear, your poor pa used
to say that I was the most thoughtful woman he ever
saw; and I did try to be very considerate."
JER OME PINNICKSON 'S MO TIIER-IN-LA W. 29
"Jerome will say the same thing, mother, I am sure."
And so, upon the first night that Pinnickson went
out, as he alleged, " upon business," Mrs. Carboy said to
her daughter :
" Helen, darling, suppose you go to bed. I will sit up
and wait for Jerome. I am accustomed to it. A man
does not like to come home late at night and find the
house dark and dreary and every one asleep. We must
try to make it cheerful for Jerome. I will sit here and
be ready to greet him with a smile when he comes in."
So Mrs. Pinnickson retired, and Mrs. Carboy went on
with her sewing.
" Dear Jerome," she said to herself, as she bit off a
thread, " how pleased he will be to find that I am so eager
to make him happy !"
Mrs. Carboy sat there, hour after hour, until at last
she dozed off in her chair. Just as the clock upon the
mantel was striking one, the noise of a key in the lock of
the front door waked her, and Jerome came in. She
sprang to greet him. He seemed a trifle vexed when he
saw her, but when she explained her project to him, he
thanked her kindly and bade her good night.
If some one could have caught the remark that fell
from his lips as he went up-stairs, he would have been un¬
derstood to say :
" Detestable old idiot! I believe she sat up because
she was afraid I would not come home sober! She has
begun to watch me already."
But Mrs. Carboy went to bed with an approving con¬
science, and perfectly happy in the thought that she was
a kind of guardian angel to that household.
JEROME P1NNICKSON'S MOTHER-IN-LAW.
The next time Pinnickson went out alone in the even¬
ing he said, as he took his hat:
" By the way, mother, you needn't sit up for me to¬
night. I shall be detained rather late."
" Dear heart," said Mrs. Carboy to Helen, as the door
closed, " he doesn't want ,to give me trouble. But I will
show him that my affection for him makes such a service
seem trifling. You can retire as usual, darling, and I will
wait for him."
Jerome was later than usual. He came in a little
before two ; and Mrs. Carboy flew to meet him. He was
a shade angry, and he said :
" I thought I asked you not to wait up for me ? "
" I know, my son; but I felt as if I were willing to
sacrifice myself for your eomfort in spite of your kind:
protest."
Then Pinnickson slammed his hat down upon the
table, tossed his cane on the stand, and went off
saying :
" I wonder what game the old girl is up to, anyway ?
She evidently suspects something."
When Pinnickson had occasion to stay out the next
time, he remarked : " I shall be out very, very late. Per¬
haps I shall not come in at all. I particularly request
that you and mother shall both go to bed at the usual
time. Remember, now, I do not want either of you
to sit up."
" How considerate he is," said Mrs. Carboy, as Jerome
shut the door. " He would suffer anything rather than
cause me trouble. But little does he know the depths
of a woman's love. You retire, Helen, when you
JEROME FINNIC KSON'S MOTHER-IN-LAW:. 31
wish to, and I will stay up and give him a pleasant
surprise."
Late that night Pinnickson opened the front door
" He beheld Mrs. Carboy dozing in the easy-chair."—Page 31.
cended the stairs, and then he went to bed, leaving her
undisturbed.
About four o'clock in the morning some one pounded
upon his chamber door.
32 JEROME PINNICKSON'S MO THER-IN-LAIV.
" Who's there ? " asked Mrs. Pinnickson.
" I! your mamma. Do you know, Helen, darling,
that Jerome has not come home yet? I am afraid
something dreadful has happened to him."
Pinnickson was sleepy, but he could not suppress a
smile as his wife arose and went to explain to her mother
the facts of the situation.
In the morning, Pinnickson tried to smooth matters
over by a shuffling excuse, to the effect that he did not
look for Mrs. Carboy, after what he had said about not
sitting up, and he was not aware that she was waiting
for him.
"Never mind," said she, with a serene smile, "it
makes no difference. Next time I will stay awake, so
that I won't miss you."
Pinnickson looked as if this information did not fill
him with joy. In fact, it made him miserable. The
thought that he would never, never be able to go out
without the certainty that the implacable and indo¬
mitable Mrs. Carboy was at home counting the minutes
of his absence, was exasperating. The most fiendish of
mothers-in-law could not have devised anything that
would have been more terrible.
And Mrs. Carboy did not end with this method of
torture, in her efforts to make her son-in-law happy.
" Helen," she said, " Jerome loves neatness and order,
and I think we ought to have a good house-cleaning
every month or two, just to please him. Nothing, my
child, makes a man so contented and happy as to find his
home a model of cleanliness and comfort."
And so Mrs. Carboy and Helen began the good work,
JEROME PINNICKSON'S MOTHER-IN-LAW. 33
and when Jerome came home he found the ironing-blanket
over the piano, the carpet up from the hall, the chairs on
top of the sofas, the hat-rack in the back porch, his coats
and boots stuffed away in a strange closet, and the house¬
hold things generally in a pitiable condition of demorali¬
zation. He complained to his wife, and she said :
" Mother wanted to do it. She says we ought to have
a good house-cleaning every month or two, so as to make
home happy and comfortable for you."
She said that, did she? Your mother said that!
Helen, tell your mother that the next time I come home
and find such happiness as this, either she or I will have
.to seek for happiness elsewhere."
Then Mrs. Pinnickson began to cry, and when she
sought her mother, to cast on her the burden of her woe,
Mrs. Carboy said:
" Don't mind it,darling! Jerome is not well. I have
long thought that his liver was disordered. Perhaps he
will feel better in the morning. If he does, we will go
ahead and tear out the second-floor rooms. I will clean
up the library myself, and put his papers away."
And she did. She arranged the papers on Pinnickson's
desk, and " straightened up " everything that was crooked
or out of place ; and when the shades of evening fell, she
said :
" Helen, dear, Jerome will be delighted with the library
I wish you would tell him I fixed it. It will make him
feel more kindly towards me, perhaps. Don't say any¬
thing about it until he sees it. We will give him surprise."
After dinner, Pinnickson went into the library to write
a letter, when the women waited to observe the effect of
3
34 JEROME FINNIC AEON'S MOTHER-IN-LAW.
the surprise. They heard him using some expressions
that seemed to be violent in tone, and presently he opened
the door and called,
" Helen ! Helen ! "
Mrs. Pinnickson went to see what he wanted.
" Helen," he said, " I want to know WHO ON EARTH
has been in here meddling with my papers ? "
"Why, Jerome, I thought—"
" Oh, never mind what you thought. Helen, don't
you know that I cannot endure that any one should dis¬
turb these papers? I have said, over and over again
that they were to be let alone."
" I know, my dear ; but then, arranging them just a
little would not hurt them; and—"
" Arranging them ! Why, they are turned topsy-turvey
—not one is where it ought to be. It will take me hours
to find what I want."
" I am very sorry. I—"
" But why did you do it ? What possible reason had
you for disturbing them ?"
" Why, you know, Jerome, I didn't do it myself."
"You didn't do it! What other person had the im¬
pudence to interfere with my private papers ! "
" Well, you see, mother said that you—"
" Your mother! Is this the work of your mother ?"
" Yes ; mother said—"
But before Mrs. Pinnickson could finish the sentence,
Pinnickson rushed from the room, grasped his hat, crushed
it down on his head, and flew from the house.
" I am afraid," said Mrs. Pinnickson, after telling her
mother of the interview, " that he is very angry."
JEROME PINNICKSON'S AlOTHER-IN-IM IV. 35
" Not a great deal, I think, darling," said Mrs. Carboy.
" It will pass off. I will sit up for him as usual to-night,
and when he comes in I will explain it all to him, so that
he will be satisfied."
Mrs. Carboy waited patiently that night, thinking of
what she would say, when Jerome came home, to assuage
his wrath and make him feel that he had indeed a mother-
in-law who loved him.
After a while he entered. Mrs. Carboy met him with
a charming smile. She was just about to open a conver¬
sation, when he dashed past her, ascended the stairs three
steps at a time, entered his chamber, and locked the door.
"Jerome has some business trouble on his mind, dear
boy," whispered Mrs. Carboy to herself, as she went to bed.
" I will have that intolerable old hag assassinated, if
there is no other way of getting rid of her,' said Pinnick-
son to himself, as he prepared to undress.
When the family assembled at breakfast next morning,
Pinnickson was gloomy, and sad, and silent. Mrs. Pin-
nickson said, timidly—
" Are you not well, Jerome, dear ? "
" Perfectly ! perfectly well! What do you a^k that
question for ?"
" I thought you seemed somewhat indisposed."
" I thought so, too," said Mrs. Carboy, with a sym¬
pathizing smile.
" Well, I'm not," grumbled Pinnickson.
" Doesn't your head ache?" asked Mrs. Pinnickson.
" Certainly it don't."
" Haven't you a pain in your chest ?" asked Mrs. Car¬
boy. " I thought I heard you coughing during the night."
36 JEROME PINNICKSON'S MOTHER-IN-LAW.
" No, you didn't;"
"Hadn't you better take something for it, dear?"
urged Mrs. Pinnickson.
" Something for what ?"
" For your cough."
"No, Helen," said Mrs. Carboy; "what Jerome
wants is a mustard plaster. Jerome, may I make one for
you ?"
Jerome did not reply. He rose slowly from the table,
and with a look of intense disgust upon his face he left
the room and then the house.
"Helen," said Mrs. Carboy, when he had gone,
"Jerome is suffering, but he has determined to say
nothing, for fear of worrying you. Dear soul ! always so
- thoughtful and considerate ! But we must do something
to help him. I always put mustard plasters on your pa
when he had a pain in his chest."
" But Jerome will not let me put one on him."
" Then, my child, you have a duty to perform. If he
will not admit that he is ill, prove to him that you are
more careful of him than he is of himself, compel him to
assume the plaster. He will love you more dearly for
your solicitude for his welfare."
" How can I compel him to wear it ? "
" Mix a dry mustard plaster, and sew it upon the
inside of his underclothing, after he's asleep to-night. He
will never know it until it has had a good effect."
" I will try the experiment," said Mrs. Pinnickson.
Upon the following morning, Pinnickson came into
the dining-room in a fine humour. He took his seat, and
was just in the midst of an explanation of a transaction
JEROME FINN ICKS ON'S MOTHER-IN.LAW. 37
he had the day before with a business friend, when he
suddenly stopped, looked cross-eyed, and a spasm of pain
passed over his face. He exclaimed :—
"I wonder what in the— No, it can't be anything
wrong.''
" What is the matter, dear ?" asked Mrs. Pinnickson.
" I don't know. I felt a kind of pain in my chest; very
queer too. Sort of stings me."
" I knew you were not well/' rejoined Mrs. Carboy.
" I am sorry," said Mrs. Pinnickson.
Then Pinnickson began again, and he was just telling
how his friend, Jones, had met him at a chop-house, and
prevailed upon him to go into a speculation with Gagbury
and Pittston Railway Stock, when he suddenly dropped
the subject, and, jumping up, said :—
"Goodness! Halloa! What's that? Helen, some¬
thing dreadful is the matter! I feel as if I had a
shovelful of hot coals upon my chest."
" Must be the rheumatism getting worse," said Mrs.
Pinnickson.
" Oh no ! It's something a great deal worse than
rheumatism," said Pinnickson. " Feels like a fire burning
into my flesh. Ouch! Ow-wow-wow! It is fearful! I
can't stand it another moment! I believe it is cholera,
or something, and that I am going to die."
"Do try to be calm, my son !" said Mrs. Carboy.
" Calm! how can a man be calm with a volcano
boiling over upon him. Get out of the way, quick! while
I go upstairs and undress ! "
Then he rushed upstairs and removed his clothing.
His chest was the colour of a boiled lobster; but he
I( Calm 1 How can a man be calm—''—Page 37.
JEROME PINNICHSON'S MOTHER-IN-LAW. 39
could not imagine what the cause of the inflammation
could be, when his eyes rested upon something white upon
his shirt. He picked up the garment and examined it.
Five minutes later he came slowly downstairs with
thunder upon his brow and a dry mustard plaster in his
hand. His wife met him in the hall. Going up to her,
he shook the plaster before her face, and said in a sup¬
pressed voice:—
" Did you put that thing upon me ?"
" I did it for the best, Jerome. I wanted to make you
well, and—"
" Well! well! and who said I was sick ? "
" Why, dear, you know mother thought—"
" Your mother! Did your mother put you up to
plastering me with this diabolical contrivance which has
nearly eaten me to the bone!"
" She merely suggested—"
"Suggested it, did she ! Well, now, listen to me. If
Mrs. Carboy ever suggests, or thinks, or does, or dreams
any more of meddling with me, I register a solemn vow
that I will put her out of this house, bag and baggage,
finally and for ever, as soon as I can lay my hands on
her. You hear me !"
Then Pinnickson rushed out, and slammed the door
fiercely, while Mrs. Pinnickson sat down on the lowest
stair, and burst into tears.
"Never mind,- Helen," said Mrs. Carboy, who had
been listening behind the door of the dining-room; " he
will feel better before evening, and then he will be grateful
for what you did."
Pinnickson did not manifest any gratitude, but as the
40 JEROME P1NNICKS0N'S MOTHER-IN-LAW.
inflammation upon his chest passed away, his temper
improved, and he became comparatively cheerful and
agreeable, even to Mrs. Carboy, for whom, however, deep
down in his bosom, he cherished a feeling of resentment.
A few weeks later, Pinnickson, while sitting with his
wife and Mrs. Carboy, one evening, said :
" My dear, you seem tp have given up your piano
practice completely. I never hear you playing any now."
" It is true, Jerome; I hardly ever touch the instrument.
I am busy all day with the household affairs, and I seem
to have no time for practice."
"Poor Helen is very industrious," observed Mrs. Carboy.
" But I don't want you to keep the piano always closed,"
said Pinnickson. "You know how fond I am of a little
music."
" Well, I really must try to pick up my playing again to
please you. But I do not know how I can find the time."
"You must make the effort, dear," said Mrs. Carboy,
"in order to oblige your husband. I do wish I could
help you in some way. I can't play, but I can sing a
little. Perhaps Jerome would like to hear me sing to
him in the evening ?"
Pinnickson did not express himself frankly on this
point; but he threw out a strong intimation that he
would choose almost any other fate than that.
Next morning, when Mrs. Carboy was alone with her
daughter, she said :
" My child, a happy thought occurred to me last night
after I had retired. Jerome loves music, and you cannot
give it to him. Why not buy him a musical-box, which
will play without an effort from anybody ? '
JEROME PINNICKSON R MO THER-2N-LA W. 41
" That would be splendid, mamma," said Mrs. Pin-
nickson.
" I will buy one this very day," added Mrs. Carboy.
" I would rather spend all I have, than let Jerome think I
do not want to make him happy."
When Pinnickson went into his drawing-room after
dinner that evening, a charming musical-box was upon
the table, playing beautifully. Pinnickson was delighted ;
and when his wife said that it was a present from Mrs.
Carboy, he thanked that lady warmly, and really for a
moment felt his heart soften toward her.
He listened to the music for some time with pleasure.
The box played four tunes. He heard them each five or
six times, and then he said :
" I guess that is enough for to-night, mother. How do
you stop it ? "
Mrs. Carboy said she thought she could show him.
But when she had fumbled about the box in a feebly un¬
certain manner for five or ten minutes, she confessed she
did not know how. Pinnickson tried his hand, but with no
other result than to accelerate the motion of the cylinder.
"Oh, never mind !" he said, at last. "Let it play.
We will have music all the evening."
So he sat down, and began to read. The musical-box
produced its four tunes in rapid succession. Pinnickson
found his mind following them so that he could not fix his
attention upon his book. When an hour or two had
elapsed, the performance began to grow monotonous; then
it irritated him. Finally, he made another effort to stop
the machine, but without success. This failure exasperated
him. He felt that he could not endure those four dread-
42 JER OME PINNICKSON 'S MO THER-IN-LAIV.
ful tunes much longer, and he said so, glancing meanwhile
at poor Mrs. Carboy, who sat over by the fire, the picture
of distress.
At last Pinnickson said he should go to bed in pre¬
ference to going mad over the jangling and twanging of
that fiendish contrivance upon the mantel. So the whole
family retired, and when Pinnickson got fairly settled in
bed, he was indignant to discover that he could still hear,
amid the silence of the house, those four maddening tunes
reeling off in quick succession. He was furious, and as
his anger kept him awake, he got to brooding over his
wrongs, and thinking how beautiful is that social system
in the Cannibal Islands, which compels a man to put his
mother-in-law to death immediately after the marriage
ceremony.
And the musical-box ground out its quartette of melo¬
dies with almost malignant persistency.
On towards morning, Pinnickson could endure it no
longer. He leaped from bed, ran down-stairs, seized the
box and flung it from the window into the yard. He heard
it smash, and he gloated over the thought that its musical
performances were ended. But they were not. The
machinery was disarranged, and all night long it gave
queer spurts in which fragments of "Rule Britannia"
were oddly entangled with bits of " Hear me, Norma;"
and odds and ends of " Robin Adair " came booming out
in the most astonishing connection, with suggestions of
"Oft in the Stilly Night." And amid the fits and starts
of the dislocated music, Pinnickson dozed away into an
uneasy slumber, in which he dreamed that Mrs. Carboy
was hovering over him trying to play " Robin Adair" on
JEROME PINNICKSON'S MOTHER-IN-LA W. 43
the bass drum, while Helen produced the most hideous
noises from a trombone twelve hundred feet long.
The memory of the grave wrong that Mrs. Carboy had
done him by means of the musical-box lingered long in
Pinnickson's mind, and he sometimes felt that he hated
her. But for his wife's sake he suppressed his feelings
and tried to treat her in a kindly way.
Pinnickson's half-bro¬
ther, a widower, much
older than he, had been
taking Mrs. Carboy out a
good deal in the even¬
ings, and Pinnickson's
heart warmed towards his
relative as he realized the
blessedness of the relief
thus afforded.
One evening, Mrs. Pinnickson said to him :
"Jerome, I have some news for you."
" What is it ?"
" You know mamma ? "
"Well?"
"Well, she is engaged to be married."
Pinnickson's heart leaped within him.
" Engaged to be married ? To whom ?"
"Your half-brother—John Barnby."
Pinnickson wanted to hurralj, but considerations of
propriety restrained him ; so, after a pleasant remark or
two upon the subject, he went out upon the porch, and
gave expression to his feelings of exultation by various
wild and foolish gestures accompanied by quiet laughter.
44 JEROME PINNICKSON'<S MOTHER-IN-LAW.
When he returned to the house his wife thought she
had never seen him in such excellent spirits.
A few months later the wedding occurred, and Mrs.
Carboy (Mrs. Barnby) went to her new home. That
evening, as Pinnickson sat in his parlour with his
wife, he felt that his real matrimonial existence had
just begun. His mother-in-law had ceased troubling
him for ever.
"Jerome, dear," said his wife, "I've been trying to
think what relation mamma is to you now."
" What do you mean ?"
" Why, it's dreadfully mixed up. I can't for the life of
me tell exactly how she is related to you."
" I never thought much about it."
"Well, now; let's see. Your father was my father's
half-brother, wasn't he ?"
" Yes."
" Then my mother is your half-aunt, as well as your
mother."
"I s'pose so."
"And now she has married your half-brother, who is the
son of your mother's first husband, and not of your father."
" Wait a minute. How was that ?"
"Why, I say that mamma's second husband is the
son of your mother's first husband; while mamma's
first husband was your father's half-brother. Isn't that
right ?"
" I s'pose it is. It is somehow that way."
" Very well, then ; mamma is your mother's daughter
now, and consequently your sister; and yet, how can
your sister be your aunt ? "
JEROME PINNICKSON'S MOTHER-IN-LAW. 45
" My aunt! My sister be my aunt ! Hanged if 1
know."
" Don't you see, my first papa was really your half-
uncle ; while my second father is my half-brother; so that
—that Well, don't it seem to you that I am somehow
mamma's half-sister as well as her daughter ?"
" Well, Helen, to tell the truth, I don't follow you
exactly. I have a hazy idea, from what you say, that your
mother occupies toward me all the female relationships
from grandmother down ; but precisely where she stands
is the problem that I can't grasp."
"It isn't clear to me either. But let's go over it again.
Your father was my father's half-brother, wasn't he ?"
" Certainly/-'
" Well; my father's wife was my mother, wasn't she ?"
" How was that ? Say that again."
"Why, my father's wife was my mother, and your
half-aunt; and now, that my mother is your sister—"
"Yes, my sister."
"Your sister; my mother is your mother's daughter,
and consequently, being also my aunt and your mother-
in-law—and—and—let me see, where was I ?"
" My mother-in-law !"
" Yes, your mother in-law. What I wan't to know is,
how, being my mother and your half-aunt, and having
married your half-brother, the son of another half-brother,
she could—"
" Helen !" said Pinnickson, with a stern voice, "stop
right here ! We will pursue this investigation no fur¬
ther. We will drop the subject. You will oblige me by
never referring to it again in my presence !
46 JEROME PINNICIOSON'S MOTHER-IN- LA IV.
" Helen, I do not wish to wound your feelings; but ever
since our marriage I have been kept in a continual con¬
dition of exasperation by your mother. Unintentionally,
perhaps, she has irritated me almost beyond endurance.
I have suffered and been strong for your sake, because I
loved you. You do not know what I have endured.
When your mother left this house, a burden was lifted
from my soul; I felt once more that I could be happy. In
the midst of my joy, you force upon me this frightful con¬
undrum about half-aunts and grandmothers, and so on.
Considerations of that matter, I feel, will finally dethrone
my reason. Your mother, fleeing, has left behind her a
legacy of woe. I refuse to accept it. I shall have nothing
to do with it. I do not care what relation she is to you,
or to me, or to anybody. It is enough for me that she has
gone. Let her go. Do not stir her up. Do not agitate
JEROME PINNICKSON'S MOTHER-IN-LAW. 47
her. Let us have permanent repose. I have freed my
mind. We will now drop the subject for ever! "
And so Jerome Pinnickson's mother-in-law drifted
away from that household as a cloud floats from the land¬
scape from which it has kept the sunlight; and so, in
fine, Pinnickson had peace.
W$t Jftuittium xrf J&rnt Jlifttg;
WITH
SOME REFLECTIONS CONCERNING CERTAIN
MORAL IDIOTS.
VERYBODY is
acquainted with
persons, who in
their ordinary
conversation,con¬
stantly and as a
habit violate the
truth. It is done
obviously in sheer
wantonness,when
there is nothing
to be gained by
it, and when no
motive is perceptible. One of these persons will begin a
conversation with a palpable falsehood which does not even
glorify himself, and which, he must be aware, cannot be
believed by the person to whom he is talking. That a man
should lie for purposes of profit, or even with the intent to
THE ADVENTURES OF ABNER BYNG. 49
exaggerate his personal importance, is perfectly comprehen¬
sible; but why a person should, as a rule, set truth at defiance
without the smallest provocation, and apparently without
any sense of shame at the reflection that his mendacity is
perceived by the listener, is a very difficult question.
The habitual liars not only do this, but if their veracity
is called in question, or their attention is directed to the
nature of the obligations imposed by the Ninth Com¬
mandment, they become indignant, and resent the impu¬
tation as hotly as if they had sworn fealty to Truth for
ever, and were shocked at the impeachment of their
honour. The better plan usually is to receive the false¬
hoods in silence, for an attempt to refute them will' pro¬
bably provoke the invention of a swarm of fortifying fibs.
A grey-headed old man, while sailing into a certain har¬
bour with the writer, pointed to a mud-dredge, and calmly
said that the machine could excavate twenty-five thousand
cubic yards of mud at one revolution. He had no interest
in the dredge, neither had his companion. He felt the
impulse to lie at that moment, and the dredge happened
to cross the range of his vision opportunely. If he had
chanced to see a grain elevator or a frigate or a floating
barrel, it is likely that he would have organized an equally
picturesque falsehood upon another basis. To argue with
him would have been more than useless. He would im¬
mediately have libelled the multiplication table by trying
to prove that four times four are twenty-five thousand.
An officer of the American navy, during the Civil War,
wrote home to one of his friends that while his ship was
passing the forts below New Orleans, a fifteen-inch shell
exploded among a crowd of eleven persons in the engine-
4
50 THE ADVENTURES OF ABNER BYNG.
room, and didn't scratch a man. Another officer, a captain
in the same navy, used to entertain his shipmates with
stories about two magnificent but wholly imaginary
chargers that he had at home. One day he said that he
had received a letter conveying the painful intelligence
that the noble steeds were dead. Pretty soon he forgot
that he had framed that story, and for the remainder
of the cruise he talked about the horses as if they were
living, and he even went so far as to buy a handsome
set of harness for them at the first port of stoppage.
These are but representatives of the great body of liars
who live in every community. The latter lie about their
achievements, their acquaintances, their houses, their
business, and even their religion. If anybody makes a
statement in their presence, they cap it instantly with a
stronger statement of the same nature. Their ingenuity
and readiness are astonishing. Their complete oblivious¬
ness of the fact that they utterly contradict to-day what
they said yesterday, is wonderful; and it is not less sur¬
prising to observe that they will speak in terms of severe
censure of other persons who are suspected of similar
practices.
It is not a little curious to note that this propensity
very often runs in families. It is, without doubt, some¬
times hereditary, and this fact may tend to explain it upon
the theory that it is a peculiar form of moral idiocy. It
is, perhaps, to the mind what colour-blindness is to the
eye. In the moral and mental constitution of the habitual
liar there is, as an Irishman would express it, a bump that
is a hole. The quality which enables ordinary men to
reverence the truth and to feel the shame of falsehood, is
THE ADVENTURES OF A BNER BYNG. 51
wanting; and, meanwhile, the imagination has undue
activity. There is absolute deadness of one faculty, and
abnormal development of another. There is the intel¬
lectual colour-blindness which is not conscious of the
difference between blue truth and red falsehood. A great
many good Christian people will scout this suggestion and
shake the Ninth Commandment fiercely at the liars. But
wise men, who are beginning to appreciate the fact that
psychology is a science whose shallowest depths have
hardly been sounded, who comprehend that the imperfect
constitution of the human mind is the parent of a vast
amount of crime, and who realize that a man whose soul
has malformation is not more responsible for its faulty
action than a man with a misshapen leg is for his awkward
gait, will accept this theory readily. The monumental liar
always excites derision and scorn. Perhaps he ought to
excite pity. The very frequency of his occurrence in ordi¬
nary society is a testimony to the fact that he is the victim
of a somewhat common malady, rather than a deliberate
and malicious sinner.
Whether Abner Byng was a mere wanton enemy of
the truth, or only a moral idiot, perhaps cannot be deter¬
mined; but he has a clear right to rank high as an
organizer of magnificent and sweeping falsehoods. He
has been a sailor, and when he begins to talk about his
voyages he draws the long bow with a vigorous hand.
" You see," said Abner, one day to a little company
whom he had met at the hotel in our county town, after
the adjournment of the Court—"you see I was once a
sailor before the mast, on a vessel which was cruising
about in the South Atlantic Ocean.
52 THE ADVENTURES OF ABNER BYNG.
" She was a very small vessel, and so frail that I was
afraid all the time she would go to pieces; but she didn't.
It happened one day that I was sent aloft to nail a
block of some kind on the top of the mainmast, and as
we had no hatchet I took an axe. I hit the mast three
or four pretty stiff knocks, when all of a sudden I thought
I felt the mast go down with a jerk. But it looked all
right, and I thought it couldn't possibly be. So I came
down and said nothing about it.
" Three or four days afterwards the mate said to the
captain :
" ' Cap., it's queer we don't sight land by this time.'
"'Very queer,' said the captain.
" ' And what's more funny about it is that for several
days past my instruments have made us out to be in pre¬
cisely the same latitude and longitude.'
" ' Maybe something's the matter with the sun.'
" ' Or perhaps the parallels of latitude have shifted.'
" ' Or you may have made a mistake in your figures.'
"' I didn't think of that,' said the mate.
"So they took another observation, and found that
they were in precisely the same place. Everybody was
frightened, and it was not until after a close examination
that it was at last ascertained that I had actually driven
that mainmast through the bottom of the ship into the
mud, where it had stuck fast, and the old tub had been
spinning round and round, like a weather-cock on a
steeple, all this time, without anybody knowing it.
" To say that the captain was mad, don't describe his
condition. He roared around so about it, that I got scared
and hid myself in an old cask in the hold. There I lay
THE ADVENTURES OF ABNER BYNG. 53
all day, when it was decided to heave part of the cargo
overboard, to lighten ship, and the cask I was in was headed
up, and the whole concern was tossed into the water.
" I was in that barrel about four days. It was a little
crowded, to be sure, and it would roll some, but on the
whole it was comfortable. One day I felt myself tossed
on shore, and then I was so certain of saving my life, that
I turned over and took a good nap.
"I was waked by something tickling my face. At first
I thought it was a mosquito, but then I remembered that
no mosquito could have got into the barrel. I brushed
at it again, and caught it. It was a straw. I gave it a
jerk. Something knocked against the barrel outside, and
I heard the word :
" ' Thunder !'
" Then another straw was inserted, and I pulled it
still harder ; I heard this exclamation :
"' Thun-der-r-r-r !'
" Still another straw came through the bung-hole, and
as I caught it, I saw there was a man outside trying to
suck something through the straw; and whenever I pulled
it it knocked his nose against the barrel. So I gave it
one more pull, and then, kicking the head out of the cask,
I introduced myself to him.
" He was a Dutchman named Schuyler, and he told
me, in his native tongue, which I spoke with difficulty,—
that I had come ashore in Dutch Guiana. He was a good
sort of fellow. I went up home with him, and was intro¬
duced to his wife and his three daughters.
" The latter were splendid girls ; but they were so
much alike, that I could never tell one from the other. I
Kicking the head out of the cask, I introduced myself."—Page 53.
THE ADVENTURES OF ABNER BYNG. 55
fell in love with one of them—I never could tell which, and
I courted them just as they happened to come along.
" One day they all came into the drawing-room toge¬
ther. They were furious. They said 1 had promised each
of them to marry her, and each repeated the fond words I
had whispered to her, and accused me of treachery.
"It looked stormy for me. To conciliate them, I
offered to marry them all, and to take them to Salt Lake ;
or to cut myself in three pieces; or to drown myself with
them and perish in four watery graves.
" Respectfully and firmly declined.
" Then they all went out. After a while one came in
and said :
" ' Abner, dear, let us elope together, and leave these
horrid women, and go to some sunny clime, where we can
be happy in the fulness of each other's love.'
" 41 will think it over, my angel,' said I.
" She passed out. Then one of them came in again.
"' Abner, dear, let us fly together, and leave these
horrid women, and go to some sunny clime, where we
can be happy in the fulness of each other's love.'
" ' I say, I will think it over, my own angel.'
" And she disappeared. But she seemed anxious, so
in she came again.
"' Abner, dear, let us fly together, and leave these
horrid women, and go to some sunny clime, where we can
be happy in the fulness of each other's love.'
" ' You've said that three times, and that's enough. My
mind fully grasps the idea. I say I'll think it over.'
"' Why, I never said it before,' says she.
" 'You didn't?' I exclaimed.
56 THE ADVENTURES OF ABNER BYNG.
" ' Certainly not!'
" I saw it all. Each of them had approached me with
the same proposition. It was clear that I must fly. I
made up my mind to take the first boat that left Dutch
Guiana for anywheres.
" That night I walked to town, and shipped on a
barque that had just loaded a cargo of mahogany for
Liverpool, and next morning I was at sea.
" I have been subject all my life to cataleptic fits,
during which I seem to be dead. On the tenth day out,
one of these fits attacked me, and the doctor, after feeling
my pulse, said I was a corpse.
" They determined to bury me. Contrary to custom
at sea, they made me a substantial coffin out of mahogany
boards ; and as they were rather short of nails, they tied
the lid on with pieces of marlin-twine. A hundred-pound
shot was fastened to the foot of the coffin, and the Epis¬
copal service was read over the body. Then the word was
given, and the whole concern was launched into the sea.
" All this time there I had been lying, unable to move
hand or foot, or to speak, but I was conscious, and I had
heard all that went on around me, and even followed every
sentence of the Burial Service.
"You can imagine the frightful agony I endured. The
plunge into the cold water, however, revived me, and I
recovered the use of my faculties only in time to find
myself going down to the bottom of the ocean at the rate
of about one mile a minute. The water was just two
miles in depth, and before I could budge, I had struck
bottom. Fortunately they had buried me in my sailor
clothes, and I had a jack-knife with me. I instantly
THE ADVENTURES Of ABNER BYNG. 57
drew it, slipped the blade in the crack between the lid
and the coffin, cut the marlin-twine, severed the rope that
held the shot, clutched the sides of my narrow apartment,
and began to ascend with frightful velocity.
"When I reached the surface the impetus gained,
threw the coffin three feet into the air, and it came down
right side up, with me lying in it snug and comfortable,
only I was a little wet and hungry. I had been
under water precisely
five minutes, and I
couldn't possibly have
held my breath a se¬
cond longer, so it was
lucky the sea was not
deeper just there. I
must have drifted
somewhat for the ves¬
sel was just visible
on the horizon. The
velocity of the ocean
currents will account
for this.
" While coming up,
the end of the coffin
struck against a large
fish, stunning it so,
that I secured it with¬
out difficulty when I got to the top, and despatched it
with a knife. I tied it to the coffin with a piece of
the marlin-twine, and as I floated along day after
day, I cut steaks off the fish to support my life. It
58 THE AD VENTURES OF ABNER B YNG.
was fortunate that I was buried in a coffin, as I must
inevitably have been drowned otherwise. I was lucky, also,
in capturing the fish, or I would have starved to death.
" Well, I sailed along nicely enough for about a week,
only I began to get tired of such close quarters, when one
day I ran against an iceberg of the most enormous dimen¬
sions. I immediately clambered upon it, dragged the
coffin up after me, and sat down to consider what I had
better do next.
"An idea struck me; I would explore the iceberg,which
was about five miles long, and, in some places at least, half
a mile high. So I pulled the fish from the water, or rather
the rettiains of the fish, and, taking two of the largest bones,
I made myself
the dead body of a sailor, with a fishing rod and line
in his hand. The man, evidently, had come off of his
an excellent
pair of skates,
which I tied
to my feet with
marlin-twine. I
found that I
could get along
very rapidly with
these, and at
once I started
upon a tour.
"I hadn't gone
more than a mile
and a half, when
I stumbled over
THE ADVENTURES OF ABNER BYNG.
59
ship to catch some fish, and had been lost and frozen to
death.
" I took the rod and line from him, together with one
or two articles of clothing, and proceeded to return to my
coffin. After lighting a fire with some splinters of the
coffin, and cooking some of the fish I already had, I con¬
cluded to go a-fishing. Baiting the hook, I flung it over¬
board. I got a few nibbles at first, but directly I felt a
good bite, and I pulled up. It was an ordinary herring.
Before I got it fairly out of the water, a fifty-pound sea-
bass leaped up and swallowed it.
" ' All right,' thought I, ' I'd rather have you anyway,'
and I hauled in on it.
" Strange to say, I hadn't more than got the sea-bass's
tail out, than a sturgeon appeared and took it down at a gulp.
"' Still better,' thought I, as I kept on reeling in my
line. But I was destined to further annoyance; no sooner
had I got the sturgeon pretty well up, than the biggest
shark I ever saw, stuck his nose out and took the sturgeon
down without chewing him.
"'Very extraordinary, upon my word,' thought I, as I
still pulled my line in. But hardly had I comprehended
the situation, when a whale swam up, and seeing the
shark swallowed it.
" I was pleased ; any man would be under such circum¬
stances. I tied the line to a huge icicle, and so held the
whale fast. The whale died that night from indigestion,
and I, drawing the other fish from him, began to enjoy
myself as well as I could.
" The days were very short, and I experienced much
annoyance from the continual darkness, until another idea
6o THE ADVENTURES OF ABNER BYNG.
struck me. I took the dead sailor's shirt, tore it into
narrow strips, ran the strips through the bamboo fishing
pole, and stuck the pole into the fattest portion of the
whale that floated alongside. I then lit the end of the strip
that protruded from the bamboo, and produced a most
brilliant light. The rays were reflected from the whole
iceberg, and the glare was so intense that the sea was
lighted up for miles, and I was compelled to look away
from the ice to avoid going blind ; but my left eye was,
nevertheless, somewhat injured.
" Thus I lived for nearly a month, until one day I hap¬
pened to observe a piece of wood sticking out of the wall
of ice beside me. I grasped it and tried to move it, but
without success. While I was working at it, the iceberg
chanced to run aground, and it split into pieces with a
noise like the firing of a million cannon. I felt the ice
giving way beneath my feet, and I grasped the piece of
wood and hung on. As the berg fell to pieces, I found
that I had hold of the bowsprit of a ship which had been
embedded in the ice, but which was now floating, as good
as ever, in the ocean.
" To clamber down and get on the deck was the work
of an instant. And there I found the captain and crew
all frozen to death.
"It was lucky that I found this ship, or I would cer¬
tainly have been drowned when the iceberg went to pieces.
There were twenty dead men on the vessel, and after
having twenty funerals, I set to work to load the craft
with the pieces of ice which floated around me. Having
secured a full cargo, I set sail, and proceeded due south, to
hunt for a market for the ice.
THE ADVENTURES OF ABNER BYNG. 6l
" On the third day, I was chased by a pirate, and
having no artillery on board, and with such a small crew,
too, I took a barrel of gunpowder, stuck a half-hour fuse
in the bunghole, lighted the fuse, and flung the barrel over¬
board, right in the track of his vessel. The pirate struck
the barrel, there was an explosion, and the pursuer was
blown to atoms. Only one man was picked up, and I
made him one of my crew.
But- the man mutinied, and I
formed myself into a court-
martial, brought the man
before me, tried him, found
him guilty, and then the
court took the crew out and
hung him at the yard-arm.
" At the end of a month, I
ran into the harbour of one
of the F ejee Islands, and, just as I dropped anchor, a canoe
put off from shore and came alongside. It contained the
chief of the tribe which inhabited the island. I gave him
a salute of twenty-one guns, with an old blunderbuss which
I found on board, and received him, hat in hand, as he
came over the gangway.
"'How are you, sir?' said I to the chief; 'I hope
you're well. I just dropped around to see if you should
be wanting any ice. I've got a fine cargo here, which
I'm selling off at reduced rates.'
" There was yellow fever in the island, and ice was the
very thing the chief wanted worse than anything else. So
I cleared my cargo out at an immense bargain, and went
ashore with the chief.
62
THE ADVENTURES OF ABNER BYNG.
" When the people heard I had brought them a whole
ship-load of ice, they went frantic with joy. A public
reception was tendered me, and I was voted a national
benefactor. The people rehearsed my praises all over the
island, and a grand mass-meeting was held, at which I
was proclaimed Prime Minister of the country, and second
only in authority to the chief who had come off to see me.
I left the vessel at anchor in the harbour, accepted the
office, and lived there for four years and eight months,
enjoying myself hugely, and amassing great wealth.
" The people were cannibals, but I could never entirely
overcome my aversion to man-meat, and, one day when
they had roast missionary on the table at a public ban¬
quet, I refused to touch a morsel, and left the room in
disgust. This enraged the fickle mob, and I was arrested,
tried, and condemned to be broiled to death on the state
gridiron. On the appointed day, a huge fire \yas built in
the square of the city, and, when it had burned to coals,
the immense gridiron was placed upon it, and I was
stripped and carefully laid upon the gridiron.
" I bore the inexpressible torture for a time, but after
a while, making an excuse that I wanted to turn over, I
THE ADVENTURES OF ABNER BYNG. 63
leaped up, seized the gridiron, and bravely attacking the
crowd, killed two hundred of them with the hot gridiron,
and put the rest to flight.
" About three hundred of the more timid savages, in
an agony of terror, swam
out in the harbour, and
secreted themselves in the
hold of my ship. I also
sought refuge there, and,
finding my enemies in the
vessel, I fastened down
the hatches, weighed an¬
chor, and sailed out to sea
before the people on shore could recover from their alarm.
" I hadn't proceeded more than twenty miles before I
observed three shipwrecked sailors floating on a hen-coop.
I picked them up, and, strange to say, they were my two
brothers and my nephew, whom I had not seen for twelve
years. Of course, the meeting was affecting beyond ex¬
pression, all four of us melting into tears, and sobbing as
if our hearts would break. Now that I had a crew, I had
no trouble in navigating the ship, so I sailed for Cuba,
where I sold the three hundred natives in the hold for
slaves, at one thousand dollars a-piece, and then I set sail
for Philadelphia, and got home just in time to receive the
dying embrace of my mother, who very naturally had
mourned for me as dead for ten years."
When Abner Byng finished this recital, he cleared his
throat, called for a mug of ale, drank it, lighted the stump
of a cigar, and said :—
" Some men lie about their adventures, but that always
64 THE ADVENTURES OF ABNER BYNG.
seemed to me to be wrong. When I deviate from the truth
a half-an-inch, I want somebody to kick me—to kick me
hard."
Then slowly uprose Thomas Dundas, a farmer who
had been on the petit jury that day. Coming near to
Abner, he gave him a fearful kick, which moved him a
dozen feet or more toward the door.
At first Abner seemed indignant; he appeared to be
eager for war. But when he had eyed Dundas for a
moment, a smile stole gently over his face, and he said:—
" Squire, you're the quickest man to take a hint that, i
ever come across."
And then Abner Byng adjourned.
VERYBODY agreed that Jack Forbes had
not been treated fairly. The squire, the
clergyman, the cackling old ladies at the
sewing bee, the baker, the milkman, the
members of the Cecilian Society—in fact,
all the prominent people of Banglebury admitted
that the treatment which Jack Forbes had received
from Jenny Brown, was the roughest that had ever been
inflicted upon a clever young man by a good-looking girl.
The whole story was as follows : In May, Miss Brown
had come to Banglebury, fresh from a winter's gaiety in
the city, where her parents lived. It was whispered about
that she was sent to the village to remain with her uncle,
Judge Bates, in order to separate her from a youth who
had made a deep impression upon her at home. But this
was merely a rumour, which seemed to be denied by the
light-heartedness and joyous spirits of the fair maiden.
At any rate, it did not deter Mr. Forbes from falling
in love with her, after a very brief acquaintance, and show-
5
66 110 W J A CK FORBES WAS A VERGED
ing her that devoted attention which is the usual method
of expressing such a tender passion.
Miss Jenny received these little demonstrations as if
she liked them ; and although Forbes never could get his
courage quite up to the point of declaration, he did not
entertain a single doubt of her devotion to him. Night
after night, he took her to concerts and lectures, and sing¬
ing-school, and sociables, dancing and singing with her,
and walking home with her in the moonlight and the
starlight, with his heart knocking at his ribs as if it was
bent upon fracturing them, and his soul so full of tender
fear that he could talk of nothing but the most absurdly
commonplace and prosy subjects.
Of course Forbes behaved very foolishly. He could
not reasonably expect Miss Brown to parade around the
country with him for ever without having an understand¬
ing, particularly when the whole village talked about the
matter : and Forbes, therefore, had no right to complain
when Mr. Dulcitt, the new singing-master, soon after his
arrival in the town, began to trespass in Forbes's baili¬
wick, and to engage an unpleasantly large share of Miss
Brown's time and attention.
Mr. Dulcitt was a mild young man, with light hair and
weak eyes, which were protected by spectacles. He had
a room at Mrs. Megonegal's, where he used to practise
upon the flute, until the other boarders would rage and
tear up and down the entries, and consign Dulcitt and his
flute to a place which Dulcitt, we sincerely hope, will
never reach, and where a flute, under any circumstances
would be entirely useless.
But Dulcitt's strong point was vocalism. He could
HOW JACK FORBES WAS AVENGED. 67
sing with such tremendous power that people wondered
how he contrived to get so great a volume out of so small
a body. A rumour spread about that his legs were hol¬
low, and constructed like organ pipes, and that he had
bellows in his boots. However, he was a good singer—
there was no manner of doubt about that; and when he
stood up in front of his class in the town hall, and led
them through some spirited chorus, he created so much
enthusiasm for himself, that the miserable Mr. Forbes
cowered in the back part of the room so angry that he
could hardly help along the chorus with that dreadful
bass voice of his.
But his anger was mere good-humour at such times,
to the. ferocious rage with which he regarded the mild-
eyed Dulcitt when he descended from the platform and
beamed through his spectacles upon Jenny, as he offered
her his arm and swept her past poor old Forbes, without
even a glance at his rival. To make matters worse, every¬
body in the class understood the situation, and all eyes
were turned upon Jack to see how he would bear it.
Everybody considered Miss Jenny's conduct highly
improper. The young ladies thought so because Mr.
Dulcitt had neglected them. The young gentlemen
entertained the opinion because each man had a private
impression that such behaviour would have been justifiable
only if Jack had been forsaken for him.
One cold night in December, the Cecilian Society met
to practise some music for a concert which was to be
given during the holidays. Dulcitt, and all the members
of his singing-school were present. After the rehearsal,
Dulcitt and Miss Brown went away arm-in-arm, as usual.
68 HOW JACK FORBES WAS A VENGED.
Forbes decided to bring matters to a crisis that very-
night. He resolved to watch the house of Judge Bates
until Dulcitt and Miss Brown should part at the front
door, and then to plunge in and propose to his fair deluder
at once. He lived next door to the Judge; and so putting
his hat firmly on his head, he left the hall and darted
quickly around through a back street so that he might
reach home before Dulcitt and Jenny arrived.
As he entered the gate of his front yard and sat down
in the darkness of the porch, he saw them coming slowly
down the street. His dog ran up to him and began to
caper about and bark ; but Jack forced him to lie down
beside him and keep quiet, while his rival approached
with his enslaver.
They came very deliberately and passed by, conversing
in such soft tones that the wretched listener could not
understand a word. She reached the Judge's door. Dulcitt
stood and talked for a while, Forbes meantime shivering
with cold and impatient for his departure. But after a
little parley, Dulcitt actually went into the house. Jack
Forbes groaned aloud ; and then, after giving his dog a
kick that sent him howling away behind the house, Jack
cleared the fence at a bound and was in Judge Bates's
garden.
The Judge had his library room upon the second floor,
and Mr. Forbes had just gotten beneath the window when
the lamp was lighted and Miss Jenny appeared in the act
of removing her bonnet. It was a mean thing to do, a
mean thing even for a desperate lover, but Forbes decided
to clamber into the tree that stood by the window so that
he might look with his own eyes upon the perfidy ot the
HOW JACK FORBES WAS A VENGED.
69
woman to whom he had given his love. After a series of
difficult gymnastics, during which he tore his coat and
knocked the skin off his hands, he reached a place from
which he could peer into the room. Yes, there was J enny,
sitting in front of the fire, and Dulcitt by her side, with
his arm on the back of her chair, with his glasses turned
full upon her, and his faded eyes gazing at her, just as
Jack's used to gaze. Forbes felt his heart sink within
him at this spectacle, but he determined to sit on that
limb all night if it was necessary, in order to see all that
happened, and to ascertain precisely how matters stood.
Hardly had he formed the resolution, when Jenny came
to the window and pulled down the curtain.
" It's of no use," said Jack, in despair; and he began
to descend the tree, when the door of the house opened
and somebody came out. It was so dark that Jack could
only distinguish a figure which he thought resembled that
of the J udge.
The J udge walked towards the stable whistling, mean¬
while, to a large dog that accompanied him. Jack had
heard the Judge express his determination to procure a
dog to protect that very stable. Doubtless this was the
animal.
" But the best thing for me to do will be to keep quiet
until the Judge goes in," said Jack. To his horror, how¬
ever, he saw dimly the figure of the dog coming towards
the tree, and a moment later the animal stood beneath
him barking loudly. Jack thought then he should surely
be discovered. But no, strange to say, the Judge walked
slowly back to the house and closed the door, leaving his
dog under the tree. After barking a few moments more,
70 MOW JACK FORBES WAS A VENGED.
the brute lay down, and seemed determined to make a
night of it. Mr. Forbes, from his cool and lofty perch, re¬
garded the indistinct black figure beneath him with anguish.
" Good gracious," he said, " suppose the confounded
brute should stay there all night! "
Then he thought he would wait until the dog got to
sleep, and creep gently down without waking him.
HOW JACK FORBES WAS A VENGED. 71
Ten, fifteen, twenty minutes passed, with Jack blowing
the fingers of one hand while with the other he balanced
himself on the limb. He began to descend. But at the
very first motion the dog leaped up and began barking
again. He tried the experiment a second time, and, just
as the ferocious brute stretched himself upon the ground,
after another demonstration, Jack caught sight of two
shadows kissing each other upon the curtain. Then the
light was turned out, and presently he heard the front
door open, and saw Dulcitt dance along beneath the
street-lamp, as if he were practising a fandango.
It occurred to the unfortunate Mr. Forbes to call to
him. "But, no !" ejaculated Forbes ; " I will freeze into
solid ice first; hang me if I don't! " and he stamped on
the limb so violently that it roused the dog, who barked
savagely.
"Let us try what kindness will do," said Mr. Forbes,
making that peculiar noise which resembles the sound of
kissing—a noise which is supposed to soothe a dog, but
which cannot be written.
" Poor fellow! poor old dog ! come here, poor fellow ! "
(Kissing noise again ; then a whistle.)
But the dog barked more vociferously than ever, and
pranced around the tree as if the only boon he wanted in
this life was a chance to bite a chop from Mr. Forbes's leg.
" Here, Pont! here, old fellow ! (kissing noise again)
—come here, old dog ! here, poor fellow! here, Jack! "
More violent demonstrations of blood-thirstiness on
the part of the now franctic animal.
"Here, Jack! Here! Rats! rats! rats! ketch 'em,
Jack!" exclaimed Mr. Forbes, with the ingenuity of des-
72
HOW JACK FORBES WAS A VENGED.
pair. Rats were not the game wanted at that moment,
apparently, by "Jack." Meditation upon the succulency
of Mr. Forbes's calf seemed to have filled him with
frenzy, for he capered and howled, and howled and
capered, worse than ever.
" Lie down, sir !" said Jack, trying a new plan ; " lie
down, sir ! keep quiet! go home ! go home, I tell you ! "
and he descended two or three feet upon the tree. This
seemed to make the animal more outrageous, for now he
leaped up the trunk and tried his very best to get even a
nip at Mr. Forbes's boots, barking all the time as if he
had been wound up and his vocal apparatus was kept
going with a spring.
So Jack climbed back to the most comfortable place
he could find, reluctantly convinced that he should have
to stay in the tree until morning.
He seated himself astride of a limb, with his back
against the trunk, and put his hands in his pockets to
keep them warm. Presently the dog became quiet, and
Jack sat there looking up at the stars, which seemed to
wink at him through the frosty air as if to say, " Got you
now, old fellow. Nice fix you're in, isn't it ?"
Then he began to think about trees in general. He
thought of Wm. Penn's treaty tree, and of the picture
that he had seen of the proscribed royalist hid in a hollow
tree, with a pretty girl giving him food. And he wished
Jenny would only come downstairs and hand him some¬
thing warm and comfortable. He remembered that
cheerful anecdote which relates how the 'coon, which
was treed by Captain Scott, of Kentucky, promised
to come down if the Captain would not shoot, and Mr.
HOW JACK FORBES WAS A VENGED.
73
Forbes thought what a lucky 'coon it was to be able to
come down when it chose. And there was the old story
about Charles the Second hiding in an oak, with the
soldiers beneath looking for him. Jack thought that he
would rather have a whole hostile army encamped under
that tree of his, at the present moment, than that infernal
dog, which lay there as calm and quiet as if nothing was
the matter.
Then the stars began to dance about in the sky, and
to multiply, and jlu?k caugjit himself nodding and dream¬
ing so that once he nearly lost his balance and fell. He
had always heard that sleepiness was a symptom of freez¬
ing to death, so he jumped wp and began clambering up
and down the branches to keep himself warm. This set
the dog to barking agafn, axfd it made such a fearful
racket that at last Judge Bates flung up his window and
threw a missile of some kind at the animal, accompanied
with an angry word or two. Jack could stand it no
longer ; so he cr,ied out :—
" Judge ! Judge Bates!''
" Holloa ! Who's there ?" said the Judge, nervously.
" I ; Jack Forbes ; I am up this tree, and I can't get
down because of this confounded dog of yours."
" Of mine ? I have no dog," said the Judge.
" Well, at anyrate, there's a ferocious dog here, and I
can't get down. I am freezing to death; actually
freezing," said J ack, pathetically.
"Wait a moment, until I get dressed," said the Judge,
closing the window.
In five minutes or ten, the Judge came to the door
with a lantern in his hand, while Mrs. Bates, and Jenny
74 HOW JACK FORBES WAS A VENGED.
Brown, and the three servant girls stood at their respec¬
tive windows, wrapped in shawls, surveying the scene with
eager and excited interest.
The Judge came forward, cautiously, and spoke to the
dog. It leaped toward him instantly. The Judge laughed.
"Why, Jack, this is your own dog," he said.
" No! that can't be," replied Jack.
"But it is, though," said the Judge, convulsed with
laughter, and holding the lantern close to the brute.
It was too true. Forbes, in his nervousness and fear,
had mistaken the friendly capers and yelps of the dog for
manifestations of ferocity on the part of some other
animal.
Mr. Forbes slid down from the tree hastily, but sadly;
and while he explained the whole matter frankly to the
Judge, begging him to say nothing about it, the Judge
laughed so violently that Mrs. Bates and Jenny came
running downstairs, thinking he had a hysterical fit. And
Mr. Forbes climbed over the fence hurriedly, and went
shivering to bed, without even saying good-night to the
family.
It was useless to try to keep the matter quiet. It was
absurd to suppose the Judge would neglect to tell such a
good story. But if he had remained silent, it would have
been of no use ; for Mrs. Bates, and Jenny, and the
servants, each related it to a different circle next day.
And so everybody in Banglebury knew about it before
another sun had set, and Jack had fun poked at him
everywhere he went. Even in the Singing Society those
who had at first given him their sympathies turned against
him, and laughed at Dulcitt's jokes upon the subject.
HO W J A CK FORBES WAS A VENGED. 75
Jack went downstairs and swore an awful oath that he
would be revenged. But how ? Assassination of Dulcitt,
with a butcher-knife, in a dark corner, some night, sug¬
gested itself; or the intermixture of bug poison with Mrs.
Megonegal's hash, or hurling Mr. Dulcitt into the river;
or blowing out his brains with a pistol—all occurred to
him, but he gave them up as promising unpleasant conse¬
quences to himself. Then he thought he would smash
Mr. Dulcitt's spectacles with his fists; he pondered upon
horsewhips, and considered their relative severity to clubs
and canes. He went home and retired to bed, trying to
decide precisely which would be the best method of
making Mr. Dulcitt suffer.
He had hardly touched the pillow before an idea
struck him. He remembered a curious incident that he
had read in one of Jean Paul's stories ; and he felt certain
that he had found what he wanted. He was so much
pleased that he leaped from bed, and executed a fandango
upon the floor with so much energy that Mrs. Megonegal
sent a servant up to ascertain the cause of the disturbance,
and to request "less noise." Then Forbes turned in
again with mingled feelings of joy and bliss. He felt a
good deal mortified when he thought of that wretched
adventure in the tree, and of the publicity that had been
given to it. He experienced a kind of ferocious joy as he
reflected upon the manner in which he would bring that
wretch, Mr. Dulcitt, to grief.
The next evening the grand concert was to come off.
The Cecilians assembled early upon the platform, with
music-books in their hands, eager to begin. Dulcitt
strutted about, busily important, giving whispered direc-
76 HO W J A CK FORBES WAS A VENGED.
tions, arranging the singers, distributing music, and making
his spectacled self very conspicuous.
The hall was crammed absolutely full. The people
occupied the very window-sills ; while certain small boys,
filling the gallery, yelled at each other, and stamped in
rhythm upon the floor. In the very front of the audience
sat Mr. Forbes, where he could be seen by every singer
upon the stage. He looked very grave, and in answer to
numerous inquiries, he said that he felt rather unwell, and
believed he would not sing this evening. Dulcitt con¬
gratulated himself in getting rid of a man who, as he said,
" made a noise like a rip-saw, when he tried to sing."
The first piece upon the programme was the Hallelujah
Chorus. Mr. Dulcitt seized his baton, and ascended to
the leader's stand ; he tapped once or twice, and the very
small band played a small overture in a very small sort
of way. Then the chorus dashed into the magnificent
music, singing it bravely, while Dulcitt, with his back to
the audience, beat time with both arms and his head.
When the chorus got fairly underway, Mr. Forbes
dived into his overcoat pocket, and produced a huge
lemon. Cutting the top off, he made motions to attract
the attention of the singers, and having succeeded in
getting some of them to look at him, he raised the lemon
to his mouth and began to suck it. The effect was in¬
stantaneous and marvellous. The mouths of those who
saw him instantly filled with saliva, and as they made vain
attempts to swallow, and to keep along with the music, a
series of the most horrible discords was produced, so that
Dulcitt grew frantic, and danced and beat more violently
than ever. The strange interruption excited surprise in
HOW JACK FORBES WAS A VENGED.
77
the minds of those who had not seen Jack, and they lifted
their eyes from the music to ascertain the cause. When
they saw the lemon, the same result was produced ; and,
in a minute, the whole chorus was upset, knocked out of
tune and time, and at last brought to a stand-still.
The audience was amazed. Dulcitt, red in the face,
turned around, and seeing Jack hard at work at his
lemon, comprehended the situation in a moment. Re¬
covering himself, he determined to defy his enemy.
Directing the singers not to look at Forbes, he began
again. But it would not do. Every man and woman
knew Jack's lemon was there, and they all found it impos¬
sible to get rid of the thought or to stop the filling of their
mouths. The flute-player found his instrument swamped;
the clarionet was water-logged; the trombone dripped ;
the hautbois and the cornet were filled with moisture.
Three or four spurts were made by the orchestra, and a
phrase or two was attempted by the chorus ; but the
result was horrible. The audience hissed; the young
men on the front bench, seeing Jack's manoeuvre, laughed;
the boys in the gallery whistled like miniature locomo¬
tives.
At last, beside himself with rage, Dulcitt leaped from
the platform, and rushing up to Jack, struck him in the
face with his baton. Mr. Forbes responded promptly
with his fist, shattering Dulcitt's spectacles to atoms.
Then they grappled, and after rolling around among the
benches on the dusty floor for some minutes, they were
separated. Dulcitt, red and bleeding, shook his fist at
Jack, and, struggling with those who held him, said
breathl^ly:
Dulcitt shook his fist at Jack."—Page 77.
HOW JACK FORBES WAS A VENGED. 79
"This is not the last of the quarrel. Pistols, you
know—you've got to fight—to fight—death, you know—
death—death—death!" yelled Dulcitt, as he was dragged
away by his friends.
Jack smiled contemptuously, but said nothing until
Dulcitt had departed; then, as the half-angry, half-
amused audience slowly dispersed, Jack deigned to give
some explanation of the difficulty. He had fairly turned
the tables on his enemy : and disappointed though they
were at the failure of the concert, the people laughed, and
agreed to forgive him for the ingenuity of his revenge.
Jenny Brown sat 011 the platform, cool, silent, and
inch liferent, until a strange young man, whom Jack had
r.e1 er seen, climbed up by her side and spoke to her.
SLe coloured a little, seemed pleased, and finally rose up
and went out with him.
Jack marched home in triumph, worried about Jenny,
and yet exultant over the success of his pleasant little
scheme.
His joy was short-lived. Hardly had he reached the
house, when a friend of Mr. Dulcitt's called, and after
explaining that he came upon a disagreeable errand,
handed Forbes a note. It was a challenge from Dulcitt.
" Tell him," said Jack, with an air of defiance, "that I
will meet him at seven to-morrow morning, in Duby's
Woods. Weapons, pistols ! "
Mr. Dulcitt's second withdrew, and Jack went upstairs
'to bed. While he was undressing, he began to think
about it. Was it worth while after all to fight that idiot
for a girl ?—for a girl, too, who very likely cared nothing
for Mr. Forbes, and who might only be flirting with
8o HOW J A CK FORBES WAS A VENGED.
Dulcitt, to test Jack's devotion to her? Pistols, too ! it
was deuced unpleasant: somebody might get hurt.
Suppose he should put a ball through old Dulcitt, and be
arrested and hung for murder? Worse than that; what
if Dulcitt should blow Jack's brains out on the spot! It
wasn't nice to consider such a probability. What good
would any girl be to him if his brains were blown out ?
Why, none at all. It was all confounded foolishness.
Better remain a bachelor his whole life, than die like a
dog at seven o'clock in the morning, by the hand of a
weak-eyed singing-teacher.
" I'll be hanged if I'll do it," said Jack, as he got into
bed. " I won't go. I'll pack up and leave town by the
six o'clock train, and write a note saying that I had to go
to the city on important business. I'd be a fool to fight
such a fellow as Dulcitt, anyhow. I'm not going to make
a target of myself for any man or woman either," ejacu¬
lated Forbes, as he turned over and tried to goto sleep.
But in vain. Haunted by thoughts of the duel, of the
danger on one hand, and the disgrace on the other, Jack
passed the night without a moment of repose. It was
not pleasant to picture Dulcitt and his friends upon the
ground, waiting for him with sanguinary impatience, until
the hour passed, and then coming into town to post him
as a coward. But Jack thought he would rather look
upon this picture than upon that other, which showed his
lifeless remains extended upon the ground, and soaked
in gore.
So at five o'clock he got up, dressed himself, crammed
a few things in a satchel, and stole softly downstairs.
When he flung open the hall-door, the street was so dark,
HOW JACK FORBES WAS AVENGED. 8i
and cold, and desolate, that jack felt very forlorn and
miserable, and was half inclined to stay at home and
brave the shame that would be heaped upon him for his
cowardice. After a moment's hesitation, however, he
closed the door gently, and crept down the street, with as
much dread of being observed by the early risers, as if he
were a criminal fleeing from justice.
As he came near to the railroad station, the lights and
the glow of the
warm fire in
the depot looked
so cheerful and
comfortable that
Jack's heart
grew lighter,and
he thought that
upon the whole
it was a good
thing he had
come. He walk¬
ed briskly upon
the platform, opened the door of the waiting-room, and
entered.
There was one other passenger going by the early
train ; he was sitting on the other side of the stove, with
a carpet-bag by his side. His head was bowed down and
rested upon his hands. His elbows were upon his knees.
Jack got close to him before he looked up.
It was Dulcitt, bent upon the same errand as Jack's
own.
When Dulcitt saw Jack, he started to his feet, stepped
6
HOW JACK FORBES WAS AVENGED.
back a pace, and grew very red in the face. Jack also
retreated and blushed. Dulcitt was the first to recover his
presence of mind. He determined to make what profit
he could from the situation.
" So, you scoundrel, you are trying to run away, are
you?" he said to Jack.
"No, I am not," Jack replied—"no, I'm not. I heard
that you were scared to death, you coward, and intended
to bolt, and I came here to stop you."
" That's a lie! " exclaimed Dulcitt; " you never heard
anything of the kind. I expected you would try to escape
my vengeance, and so I determined to block your game."
"You didn't, you blackguard," replied Jack; "you
were running away, for you've got your valise with you."
" So have you got yours," said Dulcitt.
Jack coloured deeply, and looking at his carpet-bag,
said in a hesitating voice :
" I—I—know—I—well, I've got my pistols in it."
"All right, then," said Dulcitt, fiercely, "let's go out¬
side and fight now."
Jack was stunned for a minute, and then he said:
"No, I won't, either; if I do anything I'll kick you,
you miserable cur.'
"Then you're a mean, dastardly scoundrel," yelled
Dulcitt, in a frenzy, shaking his fist in Jack's face.
Before Jack had a chance to reply, the door of the
room opened, and in walked Jenny Brown, accompanied
by the strange young man who leaped upon the platform
upon the evening of the concert.
Forbes was bewildered.
Dulcitt was stupefied.
HOW JACK FORBES WAS A VENGED. 83
Jenny gave a little scream as she beheld her two
victims, and very likely would have fainted but for the
promptness of the strange young man, who put his arm
around her instantly. When she had recovered, she
looked at Forbes and Dulcitt for a few minutes, and then,
comprehending the situation, burst into a fit of hearty
laughter. The strange young man smiled, but the two
duellists looked very glum and surly.
At last Miss Jenny went up to them and said :
" Well, gentlemen, as there is no help for it, I must
take you into my confidence and trust to you not to betray
it. This is Mr. McFadden, the gentleman to whom I am
to be married this morning. I have been engaged to him
for several months, and I regret to say I am obliged, after
all, to marry him without the consent of my friends.
May I hope that you will keep this matter secret for a
time ? "
" Miss Brown, deeply as I regret to learn this from
you, I can assure you that I shall regard your wish as an
obligation," said Dulcitt, bowing sadly.
Jack Forbes gulped down a big sob, and then, with a
faltering voice, said :
" I won't tell either, but I don't think this is exactly
the right thing, and I don't think you have treated me
fairly. What did you lead me to believe that you loved
me for, say ?"
Before Jenny could reply, Mr. McFadden stepped up
and said :
"See here! none of that, you know ! If you talk in
that manner to this young lady, you know, 111 punch your
head, you know !"
84
HOW JACK FORBES WAS A VENGED.
As Mr. McFadden appeared to be equal to .the task of
fulfilling his threat, Jack turned away in gloomy silence
and went home again, and Dulcitt followed him.
As they walked down the street, Jack halted until
Dulcitt caught up to him, when he said :
" I say, Dulcitt, let's make it up ?"
"All right," said Dulcitt, extending his hand.
Jack shook it heartily, and looking his late enemy in
the eye, remarked:
"And I think, perhaps, it would be better if neither of
us said anything about this matter ? "
" I think so, too," observed Dulcitt, " decidedly."
" For to tell you the honest truth," said Jack Forbes,
" she isn't much of a girl anyhow, and I wouldn't fight for
her."
allies.
CERTAIN FACTS CONCERNING THEIR
DEMORALIZATION.
the beneficent and ex-
civilization. The careful observer, especially if he be
a parent, will, however, have a strong inclination to protest
that the modern baby—regarded merely as a baby—
cannot fairly be included in the number of those who are
moving onward toward perfection.
Concerning the characteristics of the babies of remote
antiquity, we have no accurate information. We know
that Moses, lying in the bulrushes, attracted the attention
oTPharaoh's daughter; but there is nothing in the Scrip-
-4-
VERYBODY, we believe,
excepting a few misan¬
thropists, admits that
the human race, as a
whole, has been steadily
growing better under
tending influences of
86
BABIES.
tural narrative which warrants the assumption that he did
so by lifting up his voice and weeping. If an average
baby of the present period could be placed in such a
position, the chances are that it would howl so as to
arouse the whole land of Egypt. But we have reliable
accounts of the conduct of babies of the early part of this
century, from elderly people who cared for them, and the
evidence of these persons is that the babies of the period
were stuffy and sleepy, and addicted to indulgence in a
remarkable amount of silence.
The infants of the present day are not thus. They
come into the world apparently with two fixed resolves :
not to stay asleep more than an hour or two in each
night, and to give their lungs and vocal chords the largest
opportunities of exercise. The old-fashioned baby
slept serenely though cannons were fired by its ears. The
modern baby considers it necessary to awake and remon¬
strate if the nurse steps about with a squeaking boot. The
ancient baby merely warbled a little as a suggestion that
it needed nourishment, or a few drops from the paregoric
bottle. The preposterous baby of to-day cries loudest
when it is fullest, and stays awake most when it has
largest doses of narcotics.
There is an elementof ingratitude in this behaviour
which, unless there is a speedy reform, will be likely to
create a permanent prejudice against the modern baby.
Mankind has done a great deal for him. The old-time
baby considered itself lucky if it could obtain an occasional
ride in a rude box fastened to four uncouth wheels. The
later baby goes out sumptuously in a gilded coach with
falling-top and springs. The primeval baby was hushed
"BABIES^
87
to sleep with harsh and melodious rhythm. The pre¬
sent haby has had cradle-songs written expressly for it
by Gounod, and —
motor of which was an intermittent and irregular mater-
nil toe. The baby of our time is vibrated beautifully
bj clockwork. The baby of the misty past had but one
fo»d supply, and it had to use that or go hungry. The
baby that howls beneath the brilliant light of our later
chilization has the choice of many viands, from oatmeal
gnel to toasted buns ; and for it were reserved the bless-
ir^s of the patent bottle with the india-rubber nozzle.
In spite of all these things : in spite of soothing syrups
aid woven undershirts and all the other devices of
ingenious inventors who have spent years in getting up
appliances for ameliorating the condition of babies, the
mcdern infant persists in staying awake and howling with
a jersistency that is disgusting and disreputable.
The cause of this wicked disposition is not clearly
Gottschalk, and
Schubert, and
Abt, and many
other great com-
poseis — songs
which ought to
send a baby
■whirling into the
land of dreams.
The pre-revo-
lutionary baby
was rocked in a
cradle the only
88
BABIES.
apparent; if it were, something might be done in the way
of procuring legislation to correct it. There are persons
who attribute it to the force of original sin. The baby
being small, and yet having as much of this dreadful heir¬
loom as a grown person, has greater pressure io the
square inch, and he is compelled to yield to it.! This
theory will seem a little strained when we recur 1.0 the
excellent conduct of the infant Moses, and remembe): that
he was subjected to the same pressure, but succeeded in
resisting it. The modern milkman may be partially respon¬
sible, for even a totally depraved baby may be forgiven
for screeching if an undue predominance of cold water ii\
its diet awakes a pain more intense than any baby knev
aforetime, when milkmen were guileless and the pump
was not their chief coadjutor. (
The probability, however, is that as the human racp
grows older, and more refined, and more fastidious, /1
also becomes more nervous, and that, consequently, tie
babies start in life with nervous systems much more deli¬
cate and more acutely sensitive than those that belonged
to their predecessors. If this is the case, it is difhculjto
perceive precisely how the uproariousness of the averjge
baby is to be subdued in any general and effectual
manner, unless by the use of positive force. |
The properly-trained Indian baby never howls. Tie
reason is that when it begins its career its mother sip-
presses its very first outbursts by taking its nose betwen
her forefinger and her thumb, and holding her palm qrer
its mouth. Then it cannot cry without peril of bursting,
and after a few ineffectual attempts it abandons the bisi-
ness in despair, comprehends that silence is one of )he
BABIES.
89
conditions of existence, and thenceforth it hides its sorrows
and nurses its grief in secret. It is not by any means
saddest when it sings.
Extremes are very sure to meet. We may be approach¬
ing the day when the highly-civilized parent will be com¬
pelled to adopt the method of the wholly savage aborigine
in compelling the average baby to refrain its ululations.
These reflections are born of certain recent observa¬
tions of the conduct and misconduct of the babies who
owe allegiance to my neighbours, the Magruders.
The Magruders have twins, and although that fact
was known to most persons living in the village, it was
not known to Mr. Partridge, their next-door neighbour,
when he came home from a summer's sojourn at the
sea-side.
Upon the first night of his arrival, he was awakened
about one o'clock by some unusually loud caterwauling,
apparently in Magruder's yard. He rose, went to the
window, and ejaculated " Scat! " several times, but with¬
out effect. The noise continued. Then he fumbled
around in the closet for an old boot, and projected it at
the spot where he thought the cats were. There was a
momentary lull, but in a minute or two the screeching
became more vociferous than ever. Partridge went for
another boot, and hurled it with terrific force into Magru¬
der's yard, and then he followed it with another, and then
the noise became a positive shriek. Partridge was gra¬
dually getting excited, and dashing into the closet he
scooped up all the boots on the floor, and the bootjack,
and after flinging them over Magruder's fence in quick
succession, but without stopping the serenade, he danced
90
BABIES.
around in a frenzy and fired off everything he could lay
his hands on. Mrs. Partridge's gaiters, the soap-cup, the
towel-rack, the pomatum-jug, the cologne bottle, the foot¬
stool, Mrs. Partridge's hoops, the hair-brushes, the wax
fruit, the hymn book, and the plaster image of little
Samuel saying his prayers, with a stubby-nosed angel in
a bolster-case watching him—all of these things were
hurled furiously at the unseen cats; and still the duet
proceeded. At last, when all the available material in
the room, excepting the bedstead and Mrs. Partridge, had
been flung away, Partridge rushed downstairs for his gun,
and then emptied both barrels into MagrudePs dining-
room shutters. Then Magruder appeared at the back
window, and exclaimed :
" What in the thunder is the matter ? '
" Matter?" shouted Partridge, "why, I'm trying to
stop those cats in your yard."
"What cats ?" inquired Magruder; " I don't see any
cats."
" But you can hear 'em, can't you ? They've been
yowlin' around down there for the last two hours like
fury. There they go. Don't you hear that ? Just listen
to that, will you ? "
" Partridge, you certainly must be intoxicated. Cats !
Why, good gracious, man, those are the twins over here
in our room. They were born last Friday ? Didn't you
hear about it ?'
" And I don't want to hear about it now," said Part¬
ridge, as he closed the window savagely, and went to bed.
Magruder bought a coach for each of the children,
when they were old enough to go out, and he bought a
BABIES.
91
trained goat, which pulled one of the coaches, while the
nurse-girl pulled the other. But one day the goat met
another goat, that differed from him in politics or religion,
or something, and each undertook to convince the other
by jamming him in the skull. Every time Magruder's
goat would rear up, preparatory to making a lunge for¬
ward, Magruder's baby would lurch over backwards, and
when Magruder's goat struck the other goat, the concus¬
sion would shake the milk in the baby's stomach into
butter.
And sometimes the other goat would aim at Magru¬
der's goat, which would dodge, and then the other goat
would plunge headforemost into the coach, and mash the
baby up in the most frightful manner. And in the midst
of the contest a couple of dogs joined in, and Magruder's
goat backed off and tilted the coach into the gutter, and
the dogs, biting around kind of generally, would snap at
the goat and cause it to whirl the baby around just in
time for the bite. Until at last the goat got disheartened
and sprang through the fence, leaving the coach on the
other side, and it struggled frantically to escape, while the
other goat crowded up against the baby in order to avoid
the dogs, and finally knocked the baby out, and butted
the coach to splinters.
They say that the way Mrs. Magruder eyed Magru-
der that afternoon, when they brought the baby home,
mutilated and dishevelled, was simply awful to behold;
but she didn't speak to him for a week, and he had to
soften her down by buying her an ostrich feather for her
winter hat. The goat is still at large. Anybody who
wants him can have him free of charge. Magruder
" Brought the baby home mutilated."—Page 91.
BABIES.
93
doesn't recognize him when he meets the animal upon the
street.
Magruder is enthusiastic upon the subject of the twins,
and he is occasionally imprudent in expressing his feelings.
A few months after the birth of the children, the whole
town, one night, was aroused by a succession of shouts, fol¬
lowed by a firing of pistols and the springing of a watch¬
man's rattle. In a few
moments the entire popu¬
lation was in the street,
and everybody hurried to
the place from whence the
noises came. When they
reached Magruder's house
they saw Magruder lean¬
ing out of the window
turning a rattle furiously
and hallpaing at the top
of his voice, while every
now and then he would
brandish his revolver and
fire it half-a-dozen times.
The policemen felt certain
that burglars were in the house, and while they were
bursting open the back window to capture the thieves,
a rumour spread that the house was afire. In two
minutes the engine was on the ground, a ladder was
raised, and they had a stream playing through the third
story window.
As the policemen forced the kitchen window, the fire¬
men kicked open the front door and rushed in, followed
94
BABIES.
by the crowd. Magruder met them on the stairs, and the
Mayor of the town said :
" Magruder, what on earth is the matter ?"
Magruder danced about for a moment, and then he
shouted :
" Come in, come right in, gentlemen, and see it."
" See it! see what ?" asked the Mayor.
" Why, the baby, one of the twins! Got a tooth ! just
got its first tooth ! Go right up, and look at it for your¬
selves.'
" Mr. Magruder," said the Mayor, sternly, " do you
mean to say that you have created all this disturbance for
such a trivial reason ? "
" Trivial! I don't understand you. Why, man, the
child actually has a tooth !"
The Mayor turned away, and went out in silent disgust,
and the crowd followed him.
Good judges estimate that that tooth cost Magruder
about four hundred dollars for damages, and Mrs. Ma¬
gruder intimated to a friend that the appearance of sub¬
sequent teeth would be concealed from him until he was
perfectly sober.
There came a time, however, when Magruder had
rather more of the twins than he wanted. One day he
and Mrs. Magruder went to the railway station to start
upon a journey to Chicago. They engaged berths in a
sleeping car, and they had the twins with them. A few
moments before the hour of starting, Mrs. Magruder
asked Mr. Magruder to hold the children for a moment,
while she went to the waiting-room in the station to get a
shawl that she had forgotten.
BABIES.
95
She must have made a mistake about the time, for
before she returned the train started, and Magruder was
in a state of wild despair. Pretty soon the babies began
to cry, and then—no words can describe his misery.
All the passengers stared at him, and, as he dandled
the babies upon his knees, the perspiration streamed from
every pore. This kind of thing continued until nightfall,
when Magruder put the children into a berth and tried to
soothe them to sleep. But they were hungry, and they
cried harder every moment. And while Magruder sat
there beside them the long, long night, the passengers in
the other berths groaned, and growled, and made savage
remarks, and uttered the most uncharitable prophecies
concerning the ultimate destination of the Magruder
family.
By the time morning came, Magruder was almost
insane, and the twins were on the verge of starvation.
He had nothing to give them but cigars and the bay-rum
which he carried for his hair, and he knew those were not
healthy. The first time the train stopped, he bolted out
and bought a pie. When he returned, one of the twins
had tumbled off the seat and had a broken nose ; but he
stuffed them both with the pie until they were deathly
sick, and then Magruder was in a worse case than ever.
Finally, he reached Chicago in a condition of com¬
plete demoralization, and then he had to sit in the
station with the babies for eight hours, lest he should
miss Mrs. Magruder, who he knew would come in the
next train.
And she did come, but when Magruder saw her he did
not greet her warmly. He arose and went out into the
96
BABIES.
fresh air in order to calm his feelings, so as to avoid an
exciting conjugal scene in a public place. Then he hired
a cab, and, placing his family in it, they drove to an
hotel.
The next time he goes upon a journey, Mrs. Magruder
will remain at home with the offspring.
Hip ite-ifulj Hmtrmrarettt,
WITH A FEW THOUGHTS RESPECTING THE
NOCTURNAL SERENADE.
UR forefathers unconsciously did us
a great injury when they clothed
the nocturnal serenader with an air
of romance and poetry, and fixed
in the traditions of the race the
theory that a musical performance,
such as he offers, is a thing to be
desired. In the old, old times,
there may have been some justifi¬
cation for this doctrine. Musical
instruments were scarce; musical
skill was rare; the piano had not
been created, and the world had
yet to note the birth of the monster
who was to invent the bass drum.
When there was very little music
of any kind to be had, that
person was excusable who found
satisfaction in having his or her
midnight slumbers disturbed by
the tinkling of a lute beneath
7
98 THE GLEE-CLUB TOURNAMENT.
the chamber window. There was reason for the decla¬
ration that
" The gentlest of all sounds are those full of feeling
That soft from the lute of some lover are stealing."
The listener felt a glow of gratitude to the enthusiastic
young man who turned out in the cold in doublet and
thin tights, and performed for an hour or two, while the
dew on the grass sent spasms of rheumatism up through
his legs. And it is not surprising that lovers found this
the most certain method of capturing the female heart.
The charmer, being sleepy, could not readily determine if
he sang flat; the night being dark, she could not witness
the distortions of his face consequent upon his efforts to
reach the high notes ; there was nothing to detract from
the romantic interest of the occasion, while a certain
sympathy, the prelude to affection, was born of her know¬
ledge that the singer was taking a great deal of trouble
for her sake. Those were the days when the nocturnal
serenade had a basis of wisdom and strong good sense.
But those days have passed, and the serenader is still
here.
We live in an age when no man can inhabit any
community without having next door a girl with a piano.
If he cannot satiate himself with her music, he can
hammer some out of his own piano, or he can haunt the
opera house and concert room. Somewhere, under some
conditions, he can obtain during waking hours enough
music to last him until next morning. The nocturnal
serenader, therefore, is not a necessity. He is, in fact,
an intolerable bore. He supplies something that nobody
" A boot or a pitcher of wf.ter hurled at the
minstrel."—Page 100.
100 THE GLEE-CLUB TOURHAMEHT
wants, and he forces it on us at a time when we want
nothing of any sort but peace and quietness. Moreover,
he comes no more in the guise of a solo singer who picks
out soft accompaniments upon a lute. If he did appear
in such a form, we might have redress. A boot, a
cake of soap, a pitcherful of water hurled at such a min¬
strel would convey clearly to his mind the impression
that the audience was ready to have the performance
brought to a conclusion ; and if he did not catch the idea,
we would call a policeman.
But the modern serenader always comes with a squad.
If he is affluent or especially enthusiastic, he brings a brass
band, special care being taken to entrust the bass drum
and cymbals to men of enormous muscular power, who
are convinced that they are the only musicians who are
really of any importance as contributors to the harmony.
At midnight they range themselves upon the pavement
beneath the victim's window and begin :
" So swells each windpipe ; ass intones to ass,
Harmonic twang of leather, horn, and brass."
The serenaded man bounces from bed with a dire
feeling that Daniel's prophecy concerning the end of all
things is being fulfilled, and when he recovers his senses
he remembers with indignation that he has perhaps to
catch an early train and to perform duties for which the
loss of sleep will unfit him. Meantime, several hundred
other families in the neighbourhood are awakened by the
racket ; good men objurgate, sick people moan and sigh,
multitudinous babies rend the air with wild and piercing
shrieks, innumerable dogs fill the night with ululations,
THE GLEE-CLUB TOURNAMENT. 101
and a quiet neighbourhood is suddenly transformed into
a Pandemonium. But the remorseless bass drummer
vies with the cymbal player in the vigour of his blows,
the cornet utters fiendish blasts, and the E flat horn,
mayhap, plays flatter than its inventor ever intended it
should.
This is bad enough. There are few things which are
worse than the nocturnal brass band ; and one of the few
is the nocturnal glee club. It is the common failing of
man to believe that he can do in the best manner the very
thing for which nature has specially disqualified him. One
of the most frequent forms of delusion is that which in¬
duces a man who can't sing to feel assured that he can.
When a young man with a voice like a crow, and an ear
that is large enough for everything but music, has such
faith, he inevitably drifts into a glee club composed of
others like him. Here he is either placed among the
basses, where he produces a noise similar to that which
proceeds from a bark-mill in active motion ; or he is
pushed in among the tenors, where he tries to sing falsetto
through his nose ; other misguided youths meanwhile
roam about the scale in futile efforts to discover the
soprano and contralto parts.
When the club, by long practice, has fitted itself for
its evil work, it selects some unfortunate fellow-creature,
and determines to serenade him. Then, in the most
solemn stillness of the night, it wakes the echoes of a
quiet street with a diabolical congregation of discords,
the refrain of which, perhaps, in bitter mockery, implores
the aroused and enraged listener to " Slumber on in sweet
repose," the basses growling while the tenors enlarge
102 THE GLEE-CLUB TOURNAMENT.
their nostrils in malignant efforts to make themselves dis¬
gustingly vociferous.
If such serenaders as these had lived in the old, old
times, when the wrath of man expended itself in vindictive
action, we should have had less poetry upon the subject,
and the coroners of the period would have had more
business. Unhappily, modern society is constructed in
such a manner that a jury will refuse to acquit a serenaded
person who fires handsful of bullets into a boisterous glee-
club. Thus there is no defence for the peaceable citizen
but through the instrumentality of the law; but the law
ought to give him a remedy. One of the first rights of
man is the right to peace and quietness at night ; and
when we are completely civilized, the fact will be recog¬
nized, and the officers of law will consign to a dungeon a
bass drummer or a nasal tenor who ventures to trespass
upon the repose of the sleeping citizen.
These remarks may serve as an introduction to a brief
narrative of two glee-club experiences, in both of which
that form of vocal organization really did obtain something
like retributive justice.
Soon after the Orpheus Glee Club of the village of
Blank was formed, a proposal was made that a serenade
should be given to Miss Peterson, a young lady who was
admired by all the members, but for whom the president
was known to have a specially tender feeling.
The proposal was agreed to, and for two or three
evenings the club practised with such energy and assiduity
as to excite strong discontent among the people who lived
in the vicinity of the club-room.
Upon the appointed night, precisely at twelve, the
THE GLEE-CLUB TOURNAMENT. 103
club sallied forth. It carried neither lamp nor music, the
members feeling confident that they could depend upon
memory to enable them to go properly through the pro¬
gramme.
After a rapid walk, the residence of Miss Peterson was
reached, and the club halted upon the pavement in front
of it. The windows showed no light of any kind, and the
club rejoiced to think that the lovely Peterson would be
awakened sweetly from her slumbers by the harmony
which it would forthwith produce. The first and second
tenors ranged themselves together, while the first and
second basses took their appropriate places.
The leader gave the pitch in a low voice, and the club
dashed gallantly into " Sweet be thy slumber, darling."
There were four verses, each ending with a chorus. When
the piece was concluded, every eye in the club was raised
to the windows, to catch the first glimpse of the head of
the enchanting Peterson. But she did not appear. There
was nothing to indicate that anyone in the house had
heard the music so-called.
" We must put on a little more pressure," said the
leader. " They don't seem to hear us."
So the club tuned up, and presently emitted the
words of the song: "Star of the evening, beautiful star."
The singers filled their lungs bravely, and emj :ied them
vigorously, the tenors trying to drown out the basses,
and the basses growling away in such a manner that
the tenors hardly considered they had fair play.
As the final cadence died away upon the midnight
air, the club looked to the windows with eager expec¬
tation, feeling sure that Miss Peterson would give some
ic>4 THE GLEE-CLUB TOURNAMENT.
token of delight. But, strange to say, the windows re¬
mained closed ; and no one appeared.
" Maybe she sleeps in a back room," suggested Phil-
pott, one of the tenors.
" No," said the president; " her little brother told me
that her room was that one, there, in the front."
" She must be a very sound sleeper, then," said the
leader. " Let's give her a roaring song, fortissimo, and
see if we can't get her up."
Then the club, taking the pitch, plunged into, " Hail,
happy Morn and sang with such vehemence, that it
might have been heard miles away. While the perform¬
ance was proceeding, the singers heard the noise of the
lifting of a window-sash, and their eyes involuntarily
sought the house. But no; it was a window of the house
next door on the right. From this a head protruded,
listening. When the music was hushed, a voice said :
" Halloa there ! What are you fellows about? "
" Singing."
"What for?"
" Serenading Miss Peterson."
" Who ? "
"Miss Peterson."
The man at the window gave a short laugh and with
drew. But Miss Peterson was yet to be heard from.
" I don't understand it," said the president, somewhat
mystified, " she must have heard us."
"Mighty queer," said Philpott, "most women are so
fond of serenades, too."
" Let's quit and go home," remarked Quigg, one of the
basses.
THE GLEE-CLUB TOURNAMENT 105
" Oh, no," quickly rejoined the president. " We ought
to give her one more chance. Try her with 'Row,
Brothers, Row !' and sing it loud."
The club put all its strength into the song, and in the
midst of the
harmony ano¬
ther window
was heard
opening. A
moment later
an old boot
descended
among the
singers. They
stopped. The
missile came
from a house
upon the left
side of Peterson's. Before the president could express his
indignation respecting the boot, a voice said :
" Why don't you vagabonds shut up and go home ?
It's an outrage for you to be howling out there at this
time of night."
" Mind your own business," replied the president.
"We're not troubling you. We're serenading Miss
Peterson."
"Who?"
" Miss Peterson. Go to bed and hush."
This man also laughed, and said something to
another person who was heard to laugh too. The club
began to feel angry; especially as none of the Peter-
jo6 THE GLEE-CLUB TOURNAMENT.
son family appeared to pay the smallest attention to the
serenade.
" One more, and then if she don't come we'll stop,"
said the president.
The man at the window laughed again and remained
to listen. The club began to sing, " Angels Watch Over
Thee!" and it sang with the loud
pedal on. But the chorus of the
eighth verse died away, and still the
bewildering Peterson failed to signify
her delight.
" Give her another one, boys," said
the man at the window. " Maybe you
haven't sung anything she likes."
The club was annoyed by the remark, but it scorned
to notice sqch impertinence.
" I wonder what can be the matter," said Philpott.
" Maybe we've got the wrong house," exclaimed Quigg.
" Oh, no! I know the house well enough," replied the
president.
" Well, it's very queer," said the leader.
" Is there a door-plate on the door ?" asked Quigg.
" Certainly," replied the president, " don't you see it.
That white thing there."
" Strike a match, and let's look at it," said Philpott.
The leader went up the steps, followed by the club.
He struck a match. Then every member of the club saw
a placard upon which was written in large letters the
legend :
"This House for Rent,"
THE GLEE-CLUB TOURNAMENT.
The shock was so great that for a moment nobody spoke.
Then Philpott said softly \
" By George, they have moved! "
The man
at the win¬
dow then observed :
" She heard you
were coming, boys,
and she packed up
and fled; she has gone into the country for the summer.
Probably she will never come back until she hears that
you have disbanded."
If the club had followed its impulses it would Ijave
io8 THE GLEE-CLUB TOURNAMENT.
reduced that man to mincemeat at once. But it walked
sadly away, and each man went to his own home.
At the next meeting, a bye-law was adopted providing
that no serenade should be undertaken unless an under¬
standing should first be had with the person to whom the
compliment was offered.
A few months later, what was called " A Glee-Club
Tournament" was held in the village, and five or six
other clubs joined the Orpheus in a singing contest for a
prize.
The performance need not be described. It will be
sufficient to say that the memory of that night of horror
will linger long in the minds of the peacefully-disposed
inhabitants of the town. A committee of expert musicians
sat in judgment upon the efforts of the contestants, and
its opinions were given a week later in a formal report, of
which the following is the conclusion :
THE REPORT.
"If the prize had been offered for originality in the
treatment of the given themes, we should have no difficulty
in deciding to award it to the Orpheus Club. The method
of this organization is wholly new to us. The manner in
which the tenors kept two beats ahead of the voices that
carried the air was of itself surprising, but not more so
than the evident belief of the singers that successful tenor
singing is achieved by closing the mouth and emitting
shrill sounds through the nose. The basses, on the other
hand, seemed each to compose his own part as he went
along, thus making the harmony as peculiar as it was
amusing. Our prejudices have always been in favour of
THE GLEE-CLUB TOURNAMENT. tog
a bass that afforded a full, deep, resonant tone, but if the
theory of the Orpheus Club is correct, a bass voice in action
should bear a close resemblance to the sound made by a
boy who rattles a stick along the palings of a fence. Add
to this the fact that the members of the club have no more
accurate notion of time than if all of them had been born
and educated in eternity, and we reach the conclusion
that the Orpheus Club is hardly entitled to the prize.
" In considering the performance of the Apollo Club,
we encounter a formidable difficulty at the outset. We
are unable to determine precisely what it was they sang.
In the programme, 'Bright and Cheery was the Morn'
was allotted to them, but while part of the Committee
think that the music really sung was that of ' Old Hun¬
dred,' and while another part insist that it was a distorted
fragment of Wagner's music, the remainder of the Com¬
mittee insist that it was really a combination of the two,
with here and there brief snatches interpolated from
' Bright and Cheery was the Morn.' The Committee
deeply regret the presence of this element of uncertainty,
because they are unanimous upon almost every other
point. They are confident that the club would become
very efficient if it would secure a body of new members
who have good voices and know how to sing, and would
promptly expel every person at present belonging to the
organization, with the exception, perhaps, of the leader,
who ought to be retained either as a curiosity, or as a
student who needs to learn that the mere frantic bran¬
dishing of a stick, without regard to rhythm or time, may
be profitable as a muscular exercise, but certainly is not
valuable in a musical sense.
J10 THE GLEE-CLUB TOURNAMENT.
" The Cecilian Club has the gift of power to a
remarkable degree. If the purpose of the organization
were to produce war-whoops, to vend vegetables and fish
in the public streets, or to do duty as a fog-signal upon
the coast; or, indeed, if the emotions of the human soul
could be expressed in ear-piercing yells, the club would
have opening out before it a bright and beautiful future, in
which success would surely follow as the reward of
earnest effort. But the Committee, wrongfully, perhaps,
have yielded to a conviction that when eighteen stalwart
young men, each with a capacity for pouring forth from
their lungs six hundred cubic feet of air a minute, sing
' Hush Thee, my Baby,' with such vehemence that the
refrain may possibly be heard in Peru, the spirit of the
composition somehow is missed, and the sentiment suffers
irreparable injury. We may err in proffering advice, but
we feel it to be our duty to suggest that this club will give
pleasure in exact ratio with its diminution of lung-force.
And, perhaps, it will afford most satisfaction when it learns
to sing so that it cannot be heard by anybody without an
ear-trumpet.
" Of the singing of the Orion Club we speak with
mingled indignation and regret. Our fathers died for
this country. The blood of patriots has made it free.
Its soil has been bedewed with the tears of the widows
and orphans whose loved ones perished in the struggle
to secure our liberties. We have reared a fair fabric of
government, and declared our purpose to protect the
people in the enjoyment of their rights. And yet we seem
to have failed utterly to secure popular happiness and
peaceful repose, because we are confronted with the pos-
THE GLEE-CLUB TOURNAMENT.
nt
sibility that such organization as the Orion Glee Club may
prowl around over our beloved land, rending the air of
liberty with shrieks and howls, and assailing the ear¬
drums of the children of freedom with a diabolical con¬
gregation of noises of which a Pawnee Indian, charged
full with fire-water and crazed with delirium, would be
ashamed. Of course, we cannot award it a prize ; but
we recommend the people who live in the town in which
it exists to offer it a large pecuniary inducement to
disband.
" As for the Mozart Club, its performance was uni¬
formly of a kind that would have hurried Mozart to an
earlier grave if he could have heard it. Its grace notes
were disgraceful. It took all the andante passages
rapidly, and the lento passages quickly. When there was
a slur it sang staccato, and where light and vivacious
treatment was demanded, it sang as if it were working off
a dirge at a funeral. The ascent of the scale by some of
the singers, when the music descended, we attribute to
the circumstance that some of them held their note-books
upside-down. The leader beat eight kinds of time within
seven minutes, and the tenors persistently followed the
air, while the basses, it is believed, were singing the
wrong piece, or else were trying to introduce variations
of the original music.
" U pon the whole, therefore, we decline to award the
prize. Where all were so bad, where all displayed
ignorance of music quite as dense as that of a deaf and
dumb man concerning eloquence, we cannot conscien¬
tiously give to either a reward of merit. We shall make
our experience the basis of an immediate demand upon
ri2 THE GLEE-CLUB TOURNAMENT.
the legislature for the passage of a law making member¬
ship in a glee club punishable with death, unless a genuine
acquaintance with music is obtained beforehand."
When the clubs read the report they were discouraged,
but all of them remain in a condition of boisterous
activity, and the legislature has not yet done its duty.
f§r* lIMpr's Jbrmsiit&tte,
HE v, ife of my neigh¬
bour, Mi\ Archibald
N. Fisher, was at¬
tacked some years
ago by a very dan¬
gerous malady, from
which there was,
from the first, very
little hopes of her
recovery. And one
day when Mr. Fisher
came home, they
communicated to him the sad intelligence that she was no
more. When the first outbreak of grief had subsided, he
sent an order to the undertaker for a coffin, he tied crape
on the door-knob, he sent his hat around to the store to
have it draped in black, he advertised the death in the
papers with some poetry attached to the announcement,
and he made general preparations for the funeral. Then
he sat down in the parlour with his great sorrow, and his
friends tried to comfort him.
8
114 MR. FISHER 'S BEREA YEMEN TS.
" It's no use," he said ; " I'll never get over it. There
never was any woman like her, and there never will be
again. I don't want to live without her. Now she's
gone, I'm ready to go any time. I'd welcome the grave.
What's life to a man like me ? It's a void— an empty void ;
that's what it is; and there is no more happiness in it for
me.'
" You must try to bear up under it," said Dr. Potts.
" These afflictions are meant for our good. She is now
an angel."
" I know ! I know ! " said Mr. Fisher, sobbing, " but
there's no comfort in that. An angel is no use to me.
Angels don't make your home happy. They don't sew on
buttons and look after the children. I'd rather have a
woman like Mrs. Fisher than the best of them."
" But," said Dr. Potts, " you must reflect how much
happier she is now ; you must remember that our loss is
her gain."
" Well, I don't see it," replied Fisher. " She was happy
enough here, bustling around, making things lively,
quarrelling with me sometimes, bless her dear heart, when
I annoyed her, and scolding away all day long at the
children and the hired girl, making music in the house.
Who's she going to scold now, I'd like to know?
How's she going to relieve her feelings when she gets
mad ? Flying around in a night-gown with wings on
behind her shoulder blades. And what I say is, that if
Henrietta had her choice, she rather be home here tending
to things, even if every day in the week was a rainy wash¬
day. Now I know she would."
"You take a gloomy view of things now," said Dr.
MR. FISHER'S BEREAVEMENTS.
"5
Potts. " After a while the skies will seem brighter to
you."
"No, they won't," said Mr. Fisher. "They'll grow
darker until there's a regular awful thunderstorm of grief.
I can't live through it. It'll kill me. I've a notion to
jump into Henrietta's grave and he buried with her. I've
got half a mind to commit suicide, so I can "
Just here the doctor came downstairs and into the
parlour, with a smile on his face. Mr. Fisher saw it, and
stopping abruptly, he said :
" Dr. Burns, how you can smile in the midst of the
awful desolation of this family, is more than I can under¬
stand, and I don't "
" I've got some good news for you, Mr. Fisher," said
the doctor.
" No, you haven't," said Fisher. "There can be no
more good news for me in this world."
" Mrs. Fisher is alive."
" What?"
" Mrs. Fisher is alive," said the doctor. " She was
only in a condition of suspended animation after all.
She'll be perfectly well, I think, in a few days."
Mr. Fisher wiped his eyes, and with a frown upon his
face put his handkerchief in his pocket, and said :
" You don't really mean to say Mrs. Fisher's going to
rise up from her bed, and remain alive ? Going to remain
here with us ?"
" Precisely! and I congratulate you heartily."
" Oh, you needn't congratulate me," exclaimed Fisher,
rising and looking gloomily out of the window. " This is a
pretty piece of business ! But it's just like Henrietta. She
n6 MR. FISHER'S BEREAVEMENTS.
always was the contrariest woman in the state ! Who's
going to pay the undertaker's bill, I'd like to know ? She
can just do it herself; and the advertising, and that
poetry, and the crape, and all the things! I never heard
of such foolishness ! It makes me mad for women to be
carrying on so ! Hanged if I'm going to "
Just here the boy came in with Mr. Fisher's hat, with a
weed around it, and Fisher, giving the hat a savage kick,
said to the boy :
"You miserable little scoundrel, get out of here, or
I'll break your neck."
Then the company adjourned, and Fisher, taking the
crape off the door-knob, went around to see the undertaker.
But Mrs. Fisher did not get well. Two or three days
later she suffered a relapse, and within a week she passed
peacefully away. Upon the same day one of Mr. Fisher's
fellow-townsmen, Lucius Grant, lost his wife, and the
interments were made in the cemetery upon the same day,
and at about the same hour.
As the two funeral parties were coming out of the
burying ground, Fisher met Grant, and clasping each
others hand they indulged in a sympathetic squeeze, and
the following conversation ensued :
Fisher—" I'm sorry for you. It's an unspeakable loss,
isn't it ? "
Grant—" Awful. She was the best woman that ever
lived."
Fisher—" She was indeed. I never met her equal.
She was a good wife to me."
Grant—" I was referring to my wife. There couldn't
be two best you know.''
" They indulged in a sympathetic squeeze."—Page 116.
118 MR. FISHER'S BE RE A VEMENTS.
Fisher—"Yes, I know. I know well enough that
your wife couldn't hold a candle to mine."
Grant—" She couldn't, hey ? Couldn't hold a candle.
Why she could lead Mrs. Fisher every day in the week,
including Sundays, and not half try! She was an angel."
Fisher—" Oh, she was, was she ? Well, I don't want
to be personal, but if I owned an angel as bony as an
omnibus horse, I'd kill her if she didn't die of her own
accord."
Grant— ' Better be bony than wear the kind of a red
nose that your wife flourished around this community.
It'll burn a hole through the coffin lid. And you pretend
you're sorry she's gone. But you can't impose on me!
I know you're glad enough to hurrah about it."
Fisher—" If you abuse my wife, I'll knock you down."
Grant— " I'd like to see you try it."
There would have been a hand-to-hand combat be¬
tween the two disconsolate widowers, if the friends of the
parties had not interfered at this juncture. Grant's friends
thrust him in a carriage, and drove away, while Fisher
was put in the carriage with Rev. Dr. Potts, and he spent
the time consumed by the journey in giving expression to
his sorrow for the loss of his wife.
"Doctor," he said, "in one respect I never saw her
equal. I've known that dear woman to take an old pair
of my trousers, and cut them up for the boys. She'd
make a splendid suit of clothes for both of them out of
those old trousers, get out stuff enough for a coat for the
baby, and a cap for Johnny, and have some left over for
rag-carpet, besides making handkerchiefs out of the
pockets, and a bustle for herself out of the other linings.
MR. FISHER'S BEREA VEMENTS. 119
Give her any old garment, and it was as good as a gold
mine. She'd take a worn-out stocking and make a brand
new overcoat out of it,
all except what she had
made into a poker and an ice-pick. Ingenious ? Why,
she kept our family in buttons and whistles out of the
ham bones she saved, and she made fifteen chicken-coops
from her old hoop-skirts, and a pig-pen out of her used-
up corset bones. She never wasted a solitary thing. Let
a cat die around our house, and the first thing you knew
Mary Jane'd have a muff and set of furs, and I begin to
find mince-pies on the dinner-table. She'd stuff a feather
bed with the feathers that she'd got off of one little bit of
a rooster. I've seen her cook potato parings so's you'd
think they were canvas-back duck, and she had a way of
I believe. She had a
turn for that kind of
economy. There's one
of my shirts that I
bought in 1847, still
going about making
itself useful as window
curtains and panta¬
lettes, and plenty of
other things. Only last
July our gridiron gave
out, and she took it
apart, and in two hours
it was rigged on the
side of the house as a
splendid lightning rod,
MR. FISHER'S BEREA VEMFNTS.
doctoring up shavings, so that the pig'd eat 'em and grow
fat on 'em. I believe that woman could a built a four-
storey hotel, if you'd a given her a single pine board ; or a
steamboat out of a wash-boiler ; and the very last thing
she said to me was to bury her in the garden so's she'd be
useful down below there, helping to shove up the cab¬
bages. I'll never see her like again."
When the mourners all got home, Mr. Grant tied
crape upon all his window shutters, to show how deeply
he mourned, and as Fisher knew that his grief for Mrs.
Fisher was deeper, he not only decorated his shutters,
but he fixed five yards of black bombazine on the bell-
pull, and dressed his whole family in mourning. Then
Grant determined that his duty to the departed was not
to let himself be beaten by a man who couldn't feel any
genuine sorrow, so he sewed a black flag on his lightning-
rod, and festooned the front of his house with black
alpaca.
Then Fisher became excited, and he expressed his
sense of bereavement by painting his dwelling black, and
by putting up a monument to Mrs. Fisher in his front
yard. Grant thereupon stained his yellow horse with
lampblack, tied crape to his cow's horn, daubed his dog
MR. FISHER 'S BE RE A VEMENTS. 121
with ink, and began to wipe his nose on a black hand¬
kerchief.
These little indulgences in generous rivalry lasted for
nearly a year ; and it is impossible to say what would
have been the result of the contest, had not Fisher, in the
midst of his sorrow, suddenly discovered in his heart a
deep affection for a Miss Lang, a young lady who hap¬
pened to be visiting one of Fisher's friends. Fisher
began to pay her attention, and as he did so, he gradually
removed the manifestations of his grief for the dear
departed.
A year later they were married, and this made Mr.
Grant so angry, that he went around to the widow Jones's,
and proposed, and was accepted on the spot.
Miss Lang was the fourth woman to whom Fisher has
been married; and this fact was the cause of a very
unpleasant incident.
Parker had been out in California for nearly thirty
years ; but last winter he came on East and paid a visit
to his old home. Among other acquaintances of former
days he met Mr. Fisher, and Fisher mentioned that he
was sorry his wife was out of town as he would like Parker
to see her.
" And how is she ?" asked Parker. " I remember
her well. Mary Jones she was before you married her.
Splendid woman ! And how is she anyhow ?"
" I am sorry to say Mary is dead ; been dead more
than twenty years."
" Oh, I beg pardon," said Parker. " Excuse me for
stirring up old griefs. But how is your second wife?
Fine-looking woman, I'll bet, Fisher! You were always
122 MR. FISHER'S BEREAVEMENTS.
the awfullest man at falling in love with pretty women I
ever saw. What is she ? Brunette, I venture to say. Are
you going to introduce me to her ?"
" It's not—not a pleasant subject to discuss—but—but
—my second wife was laid away in the grave more than
fifteen years ago."
" You don't say ? Oh! I know, of course—your second
wife, of course, dead ; I forgot about it. Did I say your
■second wife ? I meant your third instead of your second.
And how is she ? Fisher, I must know that woman.
Introduce me, will you ? Hang me if I don't stay in town
until I know her."
" That will be impossible, Mr. Parker. My third wife
has been an angel ever since 1865."
" Well, now, I declare it's too bad; I had no idea—of
course, I didn't mean anything. Less see, it's ten years
since 1865, ain't it ? Ten, yes. Well, now, old fellow, you'll
forgive me for tearing up your feelings that way ; but I'll
make it all right by asking how in thunder is your present
wife—your fifth ?"
" Mr. Parker, you are mistaken again. I have no fifth
wife. I "
" Well, then, your sixth. How is she ? Pardon me,
old boy, for saying that you have been going it. Six wives
in thirty years, and here I am not married yet. Now
how is Mrs. Fisher No. 6?"
" Mr. Parker, the lady with whom I live at present is
my fourth wife. I don't like the tone in which you speak
of this subject."
" Don't like it! Well, it seems to me, Fisher, that
for a man who marries them and buries them as fast
MR. FISHER 'S BEREA VEMENTS.
123
as you do, to talk about sensibility upon the subject
is a little more than ridiculous. I don't care how your
wife is, or when you get another one. But if you take
my advice, you will have your undertaking business done
by contract at wholesale rates."
Then Mr. Parker took the earliest through-train for
California.
Hjj. ImwttH
ERE is a certain oddity
about the fact that when
death overtakes a hu¬
man being, man under¬
takes him. It is equally
odd that while to every
mind the word " under¬
taker " suggests one
who is eager to "talk of
graves, and worms, and
epitaphs," the diction¬
aries define an under¬
taker as " one who
under takes," making no reference to his claim to be con¬
sidered purely as a funereal functionary. Precisely why
this personage, of all those who engage in undertakings,
should be distinguished as the undertaker, has been a
puzzle to many; but the explanation probably may be
found in the primary signification of the word " under¬
take," which is, of course, to take under, the duty of the
MR. TOOMBS, THE UNDERTAKER.
undertaker being to perform that service for those who
are ready for the grave.
Mr. Samuel Toombs, the leading undertaker of the
village of which I write, had originally been a physician
in a town of Iowa, but he was compelled to leave the
place because of a difficulty that he had with some of his
patients.
The doctor, it seems, had a large tank placed on the
top of his house, from which to supply his bath-room, and
so forth, with water. The water had to be pumped up
about fifty feet from the cistern in the yard, and the doc¬
tor found it to be a pretty good-sized job, which would
cause him constant expense. So, after thinking the matter
over very carefully, one day an idea struck him. He built
a room over the cistern, and put the word :t Sanitarium "
over the door. Then he concealed the pump machinery
beneath .the floor, and he rigged up a kind of complicated
apparatus, with handles, and hinges, and a crank, so that
a man, by standing in the middle of the machine and
pulling the handle up and down, would operate the pump.
Then the doctor got out circulars and published ad¬
vertisements about" Toombs's Patent Health-Lift," and he
secured testimonials from a thousand or so people, who
agreed that the Health-Lift was the only hope for the
physical salvation of the human race. Pretty soon people
began to call to see about it, and Toombs would rush
them out to the " Sanitarium," and set them to jerk¬
ing the handles. And when a customer had pumped up
fifty gallons or so, Toombs would charge him a fee, and
tell him that three months of that sort of thing would
give him muscles like a prize-fighter.
126 MR. TOOMBS, THE UNDERTAKER.
He would push the project among his patients. If a
man was bilious, or had the toothache, or was afflicted
with rheumatism, or croup, or yellow fever, or cholera
morbus, Toombs would turn him at the Health-Lift, and
get a fee each time. The thing became so popular that
he had to enlarge his tank, and put in a smaller pump;
and he not only got all his pumping done for nothing, but
the people who did it paid him about fifteen hundred
dollars a year for the privilege. It began to look like an
uncommonly good thing, and everybody was contented
and happy.
One day, however, old Mr. Maginnis, who had been
practising at the Health-Lift every day for months, in
order to cure himself of indigestion, jammed the handles
down a little too hard, and broke the board upon which
he was standing. As the board gave way, it plunged Mr.
Maginnis into the cistern, and just as he was sinking for
the third time, Toombs fished him out with a crooked
nail in the end of a clothes-prop. As soon as the water
was drained out of him, Maginnis said :
" I didn't know you had a cistern under that floor.
What did you do that for ?"
"Why, to keep the air moist. It is healthier than dry
air."
"It looked to me as if there was some kind of a
pump under there."
" Oh, no; those are only the levers of the Lift."
" Mighty queer," said Maginnis, thoughtfully. " If
that isn't a pump, then I don't know one when I see it."
So a few days later Maginnis came around with a lot
of other paiients, and found the doctor out. They deter-
128 MR. TOOMBS, THE UNDERTAKER.
mined to investigate. They pulled up a couple of boards,
and ascertained the facts about the pump. Then they
cross-examined Toombs' servant-girl, and learned about
the truth, and then they went home mad. A consultation
was held, at which every bilious and rheumatic individual,
who had been working the doctor's pump, used violent
language, and talked about murder and sudden death.
Finally they resolved to prosecute Toombs for damages,
and for obtaining money under false pretences.
Toombs concluded to fly, in order to save trouble ; so
he came east, and finding that there was less risk and
more money in burying people than in slaying them, he
resolved to begin business as an undertaker.
He has had some curious and interesting experiences,
and not the least curious was that afforded by the cele¬
brated Cadwallader case.
In the town there are two families of Cadwalladers,
and at one time the head of each was named Henry.
One Henry was a store-keeper, and the other was a
butcher, and neither was related in any way to the other.
About the middle of June, the butcher died rather sud¬
denly ; but somehow the impression got out around town
that it was the other Henry. Late one evening a waggon
drove up in front of the living Cadwallader's house, and a
man rung the bell. Cadwallader was in bed. He arose,
opened the window, and shouted :
" Who's there ? "
" I ; Toombs !"
"Toombs! Who's Toombs? What d'you want? "
"Why, I've jus.t run around with a load of ice for the
old man. Let me in, so's I can fix him."
MR. TOOMBS, THE UNDERTAKER. 129
" Dunno what, you mean. Nobody around here wants
fixing with ice. We're temperance people."
"No, no; I'm the undertaker. I have brought it
around to pack the deceased man in. Hurry up, sonny.
I want to get done and go home."
" What deceased man ?"
" Why, Cadwallader. Don't you know, if he isn't laid
in ice, he won't keep ; and that will afflict his family like
thunder."
" I guess you've struck the wrong house."
" Isn't this Henry Cadwallader's place?"
" Yes."
"Well, then, he's my man. I've got a coffin in here
that'll fit him like a glove, after we've frozen him up a while.
Le' me in's quick as you can, and I'll show you the silver-
plated handles and the mahogany trimmings of the coffin.
A duke don't want anything more gorgeous than they are."
While Toombs was speaking, another man came up
and rang the bell, and Cadwallader asked him what h$
wanted.
"Want to see Mrs. Cadwallader about the tomb¬
stone.''
"Tombstone! This is getting solemn. What tomb¬
stone ?"
" Old Cadwallader's. Mr. Mix sent me round to ask
whether he should cut the name ' Henry Cadwallader' in
a straight line or a curve, and whether she wants to put
on the stone a broken rosebud or a torch upside down.
You tell the widow to take my advice, and go in on the
rosebud and the straight line. It's cheaper, and 'twon't
make any difference to the deceased."
9
130 MR. TOOMBS, THE UNDERTAKER.
" I'll mention it to her. When is the tombstone to be
done ? "
" Wednesday, right after the funeral. Weighs about
a ton. Mix says Mrs. Cadwallader probably wanted it
heavy, so's to be sure it would hold Henry down. He
will have his fun."
During the conversation, and while Mr. Toombs was
removing his funeral appliances from the waggon, a third
man arrived. He asked for Mrs. Cadwallader.
"What dojw/ want?" asked Mr. C.
" How's the widow takin' it ? Hard?" he asked.
" Not so very."
" Well, you tell her, for me, not to go on about it.
Plenty of fish in the sea's good as any ever caught. Tell
her the company's all right. It'll pay her in full, and
then she can get on her feet again."
" What company do you mean ?"
"Why, the Hopelessly Mutual. I'm Benjamin P.
Gunn, the insurance agent. Took his risk in January.
Thought maybe the widow might be suffering from grief,
and I'd call to cheer her up. I'm coming to the funeral and
I'll see that Henry's stowed away as snug as a bug in a rug."
Cadwallader came down and explained the matter,
and got things straightened out a little. On the day of
the dead Henry's funeral he thought he would go to it, in
order to ascertain how it felt to attend the obsequies of
Henry Cadwallader. It turned out that some of the live
Henry's friends, who didn't know where he lived, were at
the house of the dead man, thinking that it was the store¬
keeper's funeral. When the latter came in, Mr. Jones
met him, and said to him :
MR. TOOMBS, THE UNDERTAKER. 131
"Heaven and earth, Cadwallader! how d' you get out
of that coffin ?"
" I never was in it."
" What! I've been crying like a baby about you, in
the parlour there. Not dead! Now, see here, Cad¬
wallader ; this is not the square thing! Blame me if I
haven't wasted an enormous amount of sacred emotion
over you, and now you go back on me. Is that treating
a man right ?"
" I dunno. Seems to me so."
" Well, hang me if it seems so to me. If you advertise
that you are rr-:
going to be
finishes you, as
far as I am con¬
cerned. When I die, I die. I don't invite my friends
to see me interred, get them to cry, and then come
shuffling around with some shabby excuse about not being
dead ! I'd rather pick a man's pocket at once than
trample on his feelings that way!"
And as Mr. Jones shouldered his umbrella and marched
" Let me ex¬
plain "
"No, sir; no
apologies. This
buried, why in
the name of
decency don't
you stand by
your contract
like a man ?"
132 MR. TOOMBS, THE UNDERTAKER.
off home, Cadwallader went also, a little gloomy because
he felt that if he had been a thoroughly conscientious
man, who understood his duty to society, he would be a
corpse. He talked of applying to the legislature at the
next session for permission to change his name.
Mr. Toombs is a single man ; but he came very near
once to marriage—or, at least, he thought so. It appears
that Mr. Bungay, the real estate agent, some years ago
suspected that Mrs. Bungay didn't care as much for him
as she ought to. So one day he went up to the city, after
leaving word that he would be gone two or three days.
While there, he arranged with a friend to send a telegram
to his wife at a certain hour announcing that he had been
run over on the railroad and killed. Then Bungay came
home, and slipping into the house unperceived, he
secreted himself in the closet in the sitting-room to await
the arrival of the telegram, and to see how Mrs. Bungay
took it. After a while it came, and he saw the servant-girl
give it to his wife. She opened it, and as she read it, she
gave one little start. Then Bungay saw a smile gradually
overspread her features. She rang for the girl, and when
the servant came, Mrs. Bungay said to her:
" Mary, Mr. Bungay's been killed. I've just got the
news. I reckon I'll have to put on black for him, though
I hate to give up my new bonnet for mourning. You just
go round to the milliner's and ask her to fetch me up
some of the latest styles of widow's bonnets, and tie a
bunch of crape on the door, and then bring the undertaker
here."
While Mrs. Bungay was waiting she smiled continually,
and once or twice she danced around the l'com, and stood
MR. TOOMBS, THE UNDERTAKER. 133
in front of the looking-glass, and Bungay heard her
murmur to herself:
" I ain't such a bad-looking woman, either. I wonder
what Lemuel will think of me ?"
" Lemuel!" thought Bungay, as his widow took her
seat and sang softly, as if she felt particularly happy.
"Who's Lemuel? She certainly can't mean that infamous
old undertaker, Toombs ! His name's Lemuel, and he's
single ; but it's preposterous to suppose that she cares
for him, or is going to prowl after a husband so quick as
this."
While he brooded in horror over the thought, Mr.
Toombs arrived. The widow said :
"Mr. Toombs, Bungay is dead ; run over by a loco¬
motive."
"Very sorry to hear it, madam; I sympathize with
you in your affliction."
" Thank you ; it is pretty sad. But I don't worry
much. Bungay was a poor sort of a man to get along
with, and now that he's gone I'm going to stand it with¬
out crying my eyes out. We'll have to bury him, I
s'pose, though ?"
" That is the usual thing to do in such cases."
"Well, I want you to 'tend to it for me. I reckon the
coroner'll have to sit on him first. But when they get
through, if you'll just collect the pieces and pack him into
a coffin, I'll be obliged."
" Certainly, Mrs. Bungay. When do you want the
funeral to occur ?"
" Oh, 'most any day. Perhaps the sooner the better,
so's we can have it over. I don't want to spend much
134 MR. TOOMBS, THE UNDERTAKER.
money on it, Mr. Toombs. Rig him up some kind of a
cheap coffin, and bury him with as little fuss as possible.
I'll come along with a couple of friends; and we'll walk.
No carriages. Times are too hard."
" I will attend to it."
"And, Mr. Toombs, there is another matter. Mr.
Bungay's life was insured for about twenty thousand
dollars, and I want to get it as soon as possible, and when
I get it I shall think of marrying again."
" Indeed, madam !"
" Yes ; and can you think of anybody who'll suit me."
" I dunno. I might. Twenty thousand you say he
left?"
"Twenty thousand; yes. Now, Mr. Toombs, you'll
think me bold, but I only tell the honest truth when I say
that I prefer a man who is about middle-age, and in some
business connected with cemeteries."
" How would an undertaker suit you?"
" I think very well, if I could find one. I often told
Bungay that I wished he was an undertaker."
" Well, Mrs. Bungay, it's a little sudden ; I haven't
thought much about it; and Bungay's hardly got fairly
settled in the world of the hereafter; but business is busi¬
ness, and if you mast have an undertaker to love you and
look after that life insurance money, it appears to me that
I am just about that kind of a man. Will you take me ?"
" Oh, Lemuel! fold me to your bosom !"
Lemuel was just about to fold her, when Bungay, white
with rage, burst from the closet, and exclaimed ;
"Unhand her, villain ! Touch that woman, and you
die ! Leave this house at once, or I'll brain you with the
MR. TOOMBS, THE UNDERTAKER. 135
poker! And as for you, Mrs. Bungay, you can pack up
your duds and quit. I've done with you. I know now
that you are a cold-hearted, faithless, abominable wretch!
Go, and go at once ! I did this to try you, and my eyes
are opened."
" I know you did, and I concluded to pay you in your
own coin."
" That's absurd ; it won't hold water."
" It's true, anyhow. You told Mr. Magill you were
going to do it, and he told me."
" He did, hey ? I'll knock the head off of him."
" When you are really dead I will be a good deal more
sorry, provided you don't make such a fool of yourself
while you're alive."
136 MR. TOOtrlBS, THE UNDERTAKER.
" You will ? You will really be sorry !"
" Of course!"
"And you won't marry Toombs ? Where is that man
Toombs? By George, I'll go for him now! He was
mighty hungry for that life insurance money! I'll step
around and kick him at once while I'm mad. We'll talk
this matter over when I come back."
Then Bungay left to call upon Toombs, and when he
returned he dropped the subject. He has drawn up his
will so that his wife is cut off with a shilling if she employs
Toombs as the undertaker, and Toombs is still a lonely
bachelor.
Kip jl]pal$
A SERIOUS STORY*
ELL, Bessie, so the
time has come at
last."
"No, Tom, not
quite yet. This is
only the twenty-
third, you know.
Two more days ;
then Christmas,
and then our wed¬
ding."
" Oh, well," re¬
plied Tom, " the
great event is so
near, that after our
long waiting the
two days seem as
nothing."
* It may interest some one to learn that the principal incident of
this story occurred precisely as it is here narrated.
THE SHOALS LIGHTHOUSE.
" A great many wonderful things may happen in two
days, Tom."
"Yes, but nothing can happen to separate us, Bessie.
You are mine and I am yours. Our lives join together
now, and no man may part them asunder."
" Oh, I hope and believe there may be nothing to
interfere with our happiness," said Bessie. " The sky is
very bright for us now, and I cannot conceive of any
calamity which could befall us before our wedding."
"Of course not," replied Tom. "Don't think of
such a thing. It will be good-bye to you to-day,
good-bye to-morrow, and then no more farewells for
ever, for we shall be man and wife. But maybe I
won't be here to-morrow, though, until late in the
evening."
" Why ?" asked Bessie.
" Because I think I shall go duck-shooting over at the
Shoals with Jan Eckels, and it is hardly likely I shall get
back before supper time."
" Who is Jan Eckels ?" inquired Bessie.
"Why, a young Norwegian, a fisherman who lives on
Star Island. He says the gunning around there is splendid
now, and he is going to take me over in his boat in the
morning."
" Isn't it a little dangerous out on the open sea at this
season, Tom ?"
"Not a bit, when the weather is fine. Jan is a first-
rate sailor, and we won't go, you know, if there is danger
of a storm. I will be around to-morrow night early,
Bessie, for certain."
"I hotie so," said Bessie. "But, Tom, dear, for fear
THE SHOALS LIGHTLLO USE. 139
you shouldn't get back in time, I've half a notion to give
you your Christmas present now. Shall I."
"You might as well, Bess. I have yours in my pocket
now. Let's exchange to-night."
Bessie bounced out of the room and returned presently
with a tiny morocco box. Tom took from his pocket a
case, from which he removed a beautiful locket and chain,
which he fastened upon Bessie's neck.
" Oh, Tom! isn't it beautiful ? I can't tell you how
much I am obliged to you. It is the very thing I wanted.
It was very, very kind of you to find out what I wished.
And now let me give you yours. Hold out your hand,
sir! There!"
And Bessie placed upon her lover's finger a dainty
amethyst ring.
"It's magnificent," exclaimed Tom, holding it, at a
distance and admiring the stone.
" And I have had an inscription placed inside," said
Bessie,
" ' From Bessie Archer to Thomas Freeborn,
Christmas, 186-.'
"It is the last thing Bessie Archer will give you, Tom.
Before present-giving times come round again, I shall be
Bessie Freeborn."
Then the good-nights were said in that sweet old
fashion which all true lovers know, and so they parted,
each with a soul full of pure happiness in the present, and
of tender hope for that blissful future which seemed so
close at hand.
Tom Freeborn, the son of a widow, whose only child
" It's magnificent," said Tom.—Page 139.
THE SHOALS LIGHTHOUSE.
141
he was, and who loved him with such deep affection that
she was almost jealous of the fair girl who had come to
share his heart, returned to his home and began his
preparations for the morrow's expedition. Bessie Archer,
the only daughter of a wealthy banker, and a woman
whose lovely face was but the outward sign of the purity
.which crowned her character, retired to rest, to wait amid
pleasant dreams the morrow which would bring her
nearer to the consummation of her happiness.
The town of Portsmouth, New Hampshire, in which
these persons lived, lies close upon a river which flows in
tortuous course until, a mile or two below the wharves,
it empties into the sea. Twelve miles beyond, out in the
ocean, lie the Isles of Shoals, a group of small islands,
some of which are inhabited, one of which uprears alight-
house boldly from its cliffs, and others of which have no
signs of a man's presence, but are the resort of the wild
geese, and swans, and ducks, of the white owl and the sea¬
gulls, the fish-hawk and the stormy petrel.
From the little settlement upon the rocky hill of Star
Island came Jan Eckels on that bright December morn¬
ing in his open boat, containing two masts, as is the
fashion in that region with the craft of the fishermen. He
belonged to a family of N orwegians, many of whom are
found upon the islands and upon the mainland in the
vicinity; and he handled his little shell of a boat with
the dexterity of one who had spent his life upon the
water.
Tom was waiting for him at the wharf when he arrived,
but as the tide was running swiftly up the channel and
was nearly at the flood, Jan determined to wait for it to
142 TIIE SHOALS LIGHTHOUSE.
turn rather than to try to beat down the crooked stream
against it. So, when the two sportsmen finally set out
upon their journey, it was after ten o'clock, and two hours
more would elapse before they could reach Duck Island,
their destination. But the day, though cold, was clear
and beautiful, and the wind as it filled the sails and swept
the boat over the rough waters gave them no discomfort,
for they were warmly clad and well used to such expo¬
sure.
There was splendid sport at the island. Freeborn
and Eckels landed in a small cove where the surf did not
beat, and, fastening the boat's painter to a rock, they took
up their guns and started for the eastern shore. All the
afternoon they tramped about over the rugged and
broken surface of the place, creeping behind first one
boulder and then another as they approached the game,
until, when the sun approached the horizon, they counted
up a goodly number of black ducks and three or four
TILE SHOALS LIGHTHOUSE.
143
superb swans. As they were looking over the trophies of
their sport and placing them in the bags, Eckels said:
" We had better hurry, Mr. Freeborn. It looks pretty
dark yonder, and I'm afeard we'll have a squall."
" Not much of a one, I hope," replied Tom, beginning
to move toward the boat. " I don't care to get a wetting
such a cold night as this. We should freeze to death."
" We must make good time then," said Eckels, " for
it's going to rain, certain, and I'm afeard of a big blow."
They reached the boat, and tossed the game and the
fowling-pieces into it, and then, jumping in themselves,
Jan hastily raised the sails, and they started toward Ports¬
mouth. The wind blew strongly from the north-west,
and the clouds came scurrying thick and fast overhead,
becoming blacker and blacker every moment, while the
surface of the sea was covered with the white-caps, the
great waves rolling in mightier masses each moment as
the wind grew fiercer.
■ " I'm afeard we won't make it," said Jan, with a scared
look upon his face. " There'll be a gale before we reach
the harbour, and then take care ! We'll have trouble, Mr.
Freeborn."
"Well, let's drive ahead and do our best," replied Tom,
gloomily.
" Look!—look there !—there it comes, sure enough!"
shouted Jan. " The squall has got us! "
Tom did look, and far out upon the sea he could per¬
ceive the waves in fearful tumult, while above them a
dense white cloud swept forward with terrible velocity.
In a moment they were blinded by the storm of snow
which dashed into their faces3 and while the wind roared
144
THE SHOALS LIGHTHOUSE.
about their ears with a shriek such as might have come
from the lips of a host of maddened fiends, their boat was
tossed about in the angry billows with such violence that
it seemed as if it must go to pieces. But Jan clung to the
helm, and desperately strove to guide the craft, and he
still showed in his face that he had a brave hope of
weathering the storm. He was about to say a cheerful
word to Tom, when the handle was wrenched from his
grasp, and as he caught it again, a cry of agonized despair
reached Tom through the noise of the tempest.
"The rudder is gone!" shrieked Jan; " we are lost!
we are lost!"
The boat, no longer controlled by the helm, whirled
around with her broadside to the wind, and in an instant
there was a crash as both masts were swept over the side,
one of them striking Jan's arm in its descent, and wound¬
ing him severely. But the staunch little ship did not
capsize. She was built for rough work, and she remained
upright. Jan sank upon the floor in utter helplessness,
and cried like a child. He could do nothing in his crippled
condition, even if there was anything to be done. But
the waves now and then swept over the boat, and she was
gradually filling with water, so Tom, after placing Jan
upon one of the thwarts, went to work to bale the water
out as fast as possible. While he was thus busy, a cry
from Jan caused him to look up ; they were hurrying past
the White Island lighthouse, and they were so close to it,
that through the dusk they could see the keeper upon the
shore making frantic gestures to them. But, alas ! no
help could come to them.
They dashed by at frightful speed, and in a moment
THE SHOALS LIGHTHOUSE. 145
the tall shaft of the lighthouse was but a white speck amid
the gloom. The air became colder; each wave that
dashed into the boat covered the unhappy men with a
sheet of ice, and the spray hurled upward by the sea in
its fury fell upon them in icy particles which stung their
frozen faces until the agony became almost unendurable.
Tom kept his blood in active circulation by his exertions
to relieve the boat from the water. But Jan—before the
lighthouse was an hour behind, Jan suddenly fell prone
upon the boat's floor, and lay there motionless. Tom
leaped to his side and tried to lift him. He wore an icy
coat of mail from head to foot; his arm was pulseless,
his eyes were set in a stony glare, and his breathing had
ceased. His soul had gone out from the midst of that
wild and terrible tumult of the elements into the land of
everlasting peace.
The tears came into Tom's eyes as he looked down
upon the face of his dead comrade, and he broke forth
into loud lamentations. But he could not pause from his
labour to indulge in mourning. The boat was filling each
moment, and nothing but desperate exertion remained
between him and certain death. The boat itself was now
cased in ice and sank deeply into the water, and Tom
perceived that he must bale more rapidly or be swallowed
up in the angry sea.
Onward and onward he hurried before the pitiless
blast, the gale seeming to increase in fury every moment.
He saw the light on Cape Cod as he went swirling by in
the darkness, and he knew that he had come nearly a
hundred miles upon that frightful voyage. Where would
it end? He did not dare to think. He must work—
10
I46 the shoals lighthouse.
work desperately, savagely, with every energy of soul and
body. And so with fierce, unceasing toil, which seemed
too terrible to be endured much longer, with now a thought
that it would be better to stop and let the end come, then
with a remembrance of Bessie and of the blessedness of
life, and with hope of rescue and salvation, he struggled
on until daylight came; and as the gale died away, little
by little, the sun came out and looked down upon a float¬
ing mass of ice, bearing up a corpse that lay statue-like
upon its frozen bier; and a man, haggard and pale, and
covered, like his lost companion, with a glittering shroud.
Utterly worn out with his awful battle with fate, Tom
looked about him to see if any help might be near. He
espied a barque far ahead, and lying right in his course.
He ceased baling, and tying his handkerchief to an oar,
and holding it upward, waved it to and fro. The signal
was seen. The barque went about and stood straight for
him. The boat swept closer and closer, and Tom's heart
was filled with a great and eager hope of rescue. The
boat dashed beneath the bows of the vessel, and coursed
along its side. A rope was thrown to him by a sailor.
He clutched it frantically and held it fast. The boat
swept away beneath him, and he plunged into the sea.
"He is lost," was the cry that reached him from the
deck.
Not so. He thrust his arm through the loop in the
rope, a sturdy pull from the sailor tightened the slip-knot,
and in a moment he lay upon the deck; while Jan, in his
icy tomb, went hurtling far, far out to sea, and to burial
beneath the rolling billows.
A great dread filled two hearts in Portsmouth on the
THE SHOALS LIGHTHOUSE. 147
night of the storm, when hour after hour passed, and Tom
did not return. Bessie was very hopeful though, for she
thought her lover might have returned too late to visit
her, and had gone home. But his mother spent the night
in agony, fearing the worst, and yet half believing that her
boy and his companion had landed upon one of the
islands and remained there, rather than to attempt the
passage of that raging sea.
In the morning Bessie called early at Mrs. Freeborn's,
and was greatly alarmed to find that Tom was not at
home. Both women then sought Bessie's father for advice,
and he instantly dispatched a boat to the islands to dis¬
cover if Tom and Eckels had spent the night there.
Four or five hours elapsed before the messenger
returned; and meantime Bessie and Mrs. Freeborn en¬
dured torture, for they were certain Tom would have come
back early in the morning, if he had been detained at the
Shoals. And when the boatman at last presented him¬
self, he had a sad, sad story to tell. He had talked with
the keeper of the lighthouse, who said that a terrible
squall struck the islands late yesterday afternoon, and
that while he stood upon the rocks of the shore he had
seen Jan's boat go flying past in the tempest with masts
and rudder gone, with Jan sitting motionless upon the
thwart, and with Tom desperately striving to keep the
boat from sinking. There could be no doubt, the keeper
said, that they were lost. No boat could live in such a
sea, and this one was a wreck when it reached the light¬
house.
A wild cry of anguish came from Bessie's lips at this
recital, while Mrs. Freeborn gave herself up to frantic
H* THE SHOALS LIGHTHOUSE.
grief. The two women, somewhat estranged before, were
brought close together by their common sorrow. Both
had dearly loved the poor drowned lad, and both were
stricken with the same intense and overwhelming anguish.
And as Bessie strove, amid her own suffering, to comfort
the woman who was thus left desolate in the world, the
flame of a new affection was kindled between them, and
the mother loved the girl because her son had loved her;
while Bessie felt that in Tom's mother she could find the
only person in the world who could give her fullest com¬
passion and sympathy in her great misery.
And so these two became fast friends. Bessie was
often at Mrs. Freeborn's house; and as the weeks and
months passed away, and no tidings came of poor Tom,
all hope faded out of their hearts, and they gave up for
ever the expectation of seeing him again. But they
talked to each other of him, and in the rehearsal of his
characteristics, and the recital of the events with which
each was familiar in his life, they found strong consolation
in their communion with each other.
A year passed away. Christmas came again, with its
solemn memories, and brought no joy to Bessie or to Mrs
Freeborn. Then another year came and went; and the
two women, one grey and haggard, with deep furrows
upon her brow, and with the story of a great sorrow
written upon her face; the other still wearing the bloom
of youth, still beautiful and full of physical grace and
vigour, but grave and sad with the memory of the afflic¬
tion which was ever fresh in her mind—these two were
yet companions. But, a month afterwards, Mrs. Free¬
born died, suddenly, while Bessie was absent from home;
THE SHOALS LIGHTHOUSE.
and ere she had recovered from the shock caused by this
intelligence, her father's firm failed, and he came home to
her one night a beggar. Mrs. Freeborn had intended to
give Tom's inheritance to Bessie; but, alas! she died
without making a will, and her relatives took all of her
property.
After trying in vain for several months to obtain em¬
ployment, Mr. Archer accepted an appointment as keeper
of the lighthouse on White Island, and there upon that
narrow rock, far from the great world, and almost isolated
from humanity, the two established their home. In this
lonely spot the summer and autumn passed, and during
the pleasant weather Bessie would often seat herself upon
the shore, where the light-keeper on that fatal night had
seen Jan's boat coursing through the torrent, and try to
picture to herself the dreadful scene. And never did the
wind howl about their little dwelling, or the roaring sea
hurl its mighty surges against the lighthouse and the
barrier of rocks around it, but Bessie would think of the
storm that swept away her darling, and of the horror of
that death amid the seething waves.
Winter came, and with it many a furious war of the
elements, during which Bessie's heart "sometimes was
filled with fear lest even they, upon that tiny spot of earth
and stone, might be submerged by the mountain waves
which rolled in awful volume against the shore. The
weary days and nights went by, and Christmas-eve came
again, bringing with it the most terrible gale that the
Archers had ever encountered since their hermitage began.
The sea was a boiling cauldron in which the waters were
flung wildly to and fro, the white crests which crowned
150 THE SHOALS LIGHTHOUSE.
the waves being merged in one weltering mass of foam
that shone strangely out from the black darkness of the
night. The lantern overhead in the lighthouse shot its
red and white light far out over the waters, warning
mariners to avoid the treacherous rocks which here lurk
close beneath the surface ; and against the thick glass
which surrounded the light, swarms of birds, fleeing before
the howling storm, were dashed and fell crushed and dead
among the boulders beneath. The wind shrieked and
screamed so fearfully about the low hut at the foot of the
tower, that the two occupants could scarce hear their own
voices even when they spoke in loudest tones.
"It is an awful night, Bessie," said Mr. Archer.
" Heaven help any poor sailors who are caught in this
neighbourhood in such a storm. It will be certain death
for them."
Before Bessie could reply, a dull thud was heard out¬
side above the roar of the tempest. Then another and
another.
" They are signal guns!" exclaimed Mr. Archer, leap
ing to his feet, " Hark ! there they are again! They
are firing rapidly, and the vessel is evidently close at
hand!"
The two rushed to the window and looked out.
Nothing could be seen but the thick gloom and thai
ghastly white surface of the restless sea. Again the guns
were heard, and then the sound ceased. Bessie and her
father sat silently for awhile before the fire, each thinking
of the horrors which the morrow's sun might reveal to
them, and at last Mr. Archer said :
"She has gone ashore, I fear, either on Duck Island
THE SHOALS LIGHTHOUSE.
or on Smutty Nose. It is the latter, I think, or we
should not have heard her guns so plainly."
And Bessie clasped her father's hand tightly, and
thought how poor Tom had braved such a tempest and
had gone down into the fathomless depths to which these
unfortunate men even now were sinking. Sleep was
impossible on such a night, and Bessie kept watch with
her father, who must remain awake to charge the lamps
every hour with fresh supplies of oil.
It was after midnight when the guns were heard, and
Bessie sat by the fireside until the early dawn, when her
father ascended the tower to extinguish the lights. Mr.
Archer had been gone but a few moments, when he came
running down in extreme agitation. As he entered the
room, he exclaimed:
" Bessie, let us go out to the beach quickly. I think a
body has been washed ashore. I saw it from the lantern.
Come!" And the two hurried through the doorway.
The rain had ceased, and the wind, though blowing
strongly from the west, had lost much of its violence.
They ran down the pathway to the spot where Bessie
had so often stood and imagined Tom's terrible journey,
and there, as Mr. Archer had supposed, lay the body of a
drowned sailor. He had lashed himself to a spar, and
had probably remained afloat for some time; but the
pitiless waves had swept over and over him until he had
ceased to breathe, and then they had cast him from their
deadly embrace upon this morsel of kindly mother earth
for Christian burial. He was a tall, manly fellow, with
bronzed and rugged face, strong arms, a flowing beard,
and dark-brown hair. Mr. Archer cut away the lashings,
<5* THE SHOALS LIGHTHOUSE,
and they carried him up to the house and placed him
before the fire. They determined to attempt his resusci¬
tation, although they had little hope of effecting it, for the
sailor had probably been in the water, dead, for several
hours.
While Mr. Archer breathed into the man's lungs,
Bessie determined to chafe his hands. She seized one of
them for the purpose, when a loud exclamation from her
attracted her father's attention. Bessie was examining an
amethyst ring upon the man's finger, while her face grew
THE SHOALS LIGHTHOUSE.
153
pale as death. She drew the ring away and looked upon
the inside of it; then she gazed steadfastly for a moment
in the sailor's face, and with a faint cry swooned away.
Mr. Archer picked up the fallen ring from the floor and
read the inscription in it. It was this—■
" From Bessie Archer to Thomas Freeborn,
Christmas, 186—."
This, indeed, was Tom, come back in this strange
and dreadful fashion, and led—by what mysterious
fate?—to the very feet of the woman he had loved.
And when Bessie had recovered herself, she and her
father went to work again with renewed earnestness,
both with eager hope; but Bessie with a mighty
longing in her heart, which was too overpowering for
language.
Half an hour passed, and Mr. Archer thought he per¬
ceived a convulsive movement of the chest. They re¬
doubled their exertions, and presently the breast heaved
slowly and painfully, and a sigh escaped from the lips.
In a few moments the spark of life which had been so
nearly extinguished was rekindled, and the patient was
carried to the bed, where, after a few draughts of brandy,
consciousness returned, and Tom, suffering intensely, lay
moaning and sighing, too feeble to look upon those who
had saved him. Then he fell into a deep sleep, and before
he awoke Mr. Archer sent for assistance to Star Island.
He feared the shock would be fatal if Tom should see
and know him or Bessie while he was so ill.
But careful and tender nursing soon gave him strength,
and in a few days Mr. Archer entered the room. Tom in-
154 THE SHOALS LIGHTHOUSE.
stantly recognized him; but even his great surprise did
not keep back the words that came first to his lips : " Is
Bessie still alive?" And then Mr. Archer sat beside
Tom and told the whole story of his failure, their life at
the lighthouse, and his rescue ; and when Bessie entered
at his summons, he went out and left those two alone in
their great joy. It was too sacred an occasion for the
presence of another. It was the blissful ending of a long
night of pain and sorrow and bereavement, the dawn of
a d^y of happiness and peace.
Tom had a very extended story to tell of his adven¬
tures, but we must make it a brief one here. The vessel
which rescued him from the boat was a whaler, outward
bound for the Pacific, and he remained upon her for nearly
two years. She was driven ashore near Cape Horn, and
wrecked as she was coming home, and Tom and the other
survivors were left upon the desolate coast in a most for¬
lorn condition for several months. Finally, they were
taken off by a brig bound for Liverpool, and when that
port was reached, Tom found a vessel that was about to
sail for Portland, Maine. He shipped with her as a
sailor before the mast, and just as she was about to
end her voyage, she was caught in the great storm,
and driven on Smutty Nose Island. Tom said he
knew the locality at once, and determined to try to
save himself by lashing himself to a spar. He became
unconscious in the water, and awoke to find himself
saved.
Before another Christmas came around, Tom and
Bessie were married; and with his mother's fortune,
which he claimed and secured, he gave to Bessie and
THE SHOALS LIGHTHOUSE.
*55
her father a comfortable home, where they lived
together in such complete felicity as is surely granted
when from a great tribulation the soul comes at last
into the full fruition of its hopes and to the serenity of
perfect rest.
Urnjeiiij of |)tttifrar,
♦
CHAPTER I.
THE ELOPEMENT,
' 'ALT LAKE CITY; the Mormon capital! Let
us look at it. It lies deep in the valley, in a
valley which is six thousand feet above the
level of the sea. To the right, to the left, to the north,
the south, the east, and the west, mountains !
Some near, some far. Some mighty, some dwarfed
by contrast with the greater. A serrated chain of hills
filling the whole horizon and outlining their dusky sum¬
mits clearly against the pure blue of the sky. From
among them the Twin Peaks rise, boldly and grandly,
seventy-five hundred feet above the valley, and stand in
hoary grandeur, their snow-clad tops the reservoirs from
which the plain draws inexhaustible supplies of cold and
limpid water. The plain itself, a wide stretch of sandy
earth, partly cultivated, but almost wholly covered upon
THOMPSON DUNBAR.
iS7
this August day with myriads of gleaming golden sun¬
flowers, which to him who takes a bird's-eye view, seem
a garb altogether glorious. Lying in the midst of it, the
city.
America has no other like it. Surveyed from a
distance it wears a distinctly Oriental appearance. So
we of the Far West who have only dreamed of the East,
imagine how Damascus may look. White houses shin¬
ing amid rich masses of green foliage. A dome, a tower,
a spire, that may answer for a minaret, deep gardens,
buildings with flat roofs, a faint mist of dust marking the
line of a travelled street, a sky of more than Oriental
softness overhead, and an atmosphere so pure that to
breathe it is luxury, and to look through it is to gain such
power of vision that the peaks of the Wasatch range,
twenty miles away, seem within reach of the pedestrian
who has five minutes to spare.
In the city there are broad streets covered with gravel.
Upon each side where the gutter should be, there is a
stream of pure and delicious water hurtling fiercely along
with the impetus gained at the top of the Twin Peaks.
The dwellings of stone, of wood, of adobe or sun-burned
bricks, are far apart and enshrined among mighty trees.
Shops, here and there, thrust themselves out to the edge
of the footway, and offer their wares to the passers-by.
It is a queer throng that is thus tempted. Such a
one as no other street in this broad earth can gather.
Here is a Mormon saint, a patriarch with twelve wives,
and so many children that he is compelled to refer to his
memorandum book for a list of them. Stout, rugged,
coarse in nature and feature, he is of the kind that found
158
Tim TRA GRD Y OF
his valley a wilderness and transformed it into a luscious
garden. There is a Utah Indian, clad perhaps in a stove¬
pipe hat, a blanket, and buckskin breeches. He wears
huge earrings, long straight hair, thick, and as black as
midnight. Here is a Mexican—dashing along at break¬
neck speed, upon a shaggy pony. He wears a dress
as picturesque as that of a Greek, and he is as fine a
horseman as the Arabian desert knows. There go two
army officers, wearing blue coats, and looking as if they
were in authority. They hie to the camp upon the hill
side, from whence the guns that they control can level
the city in a day. Gentile miners, with fierce whiskers
broad hats, trousers tucked in boots, and pistols thrust in
belts, swagger about in search of firewater; Mormon
policemen, quiet, reserved, but keen as hounds, stand
upon the corners. Huge waggons drawn by six, and
eight, and ten mules come lumbering down the street,
blunging from outlying settlements of the saints the tithes
for the Prophet's storehouse. Hurrying past them, dash
graceful and elegant pleasure carriages such as Hyde
Park might be proud of. But where are the women ? Of
men there are enough. Now and then a Gentile woman
passes, but not often ; and the Mormon women appear
still less frequently. It is Orientalism in the extreme
Occident. There is the polygamy of Turkey with an
approach to the custom which keeps the woman under
a veil. It is a strange city, a new city, born within the
last half century ; a city of its own kind ; a city that is as
striking, as novel, as interesting, as unprecedented to the
view of the American who lives east of the Rocky Moun¬
tains, as it is to that of the citizen of London,
THOMPSON DUNBAR.
1S9
To begin with. We have to do with a large white
adobe structure, which stands upon the eastern edge of
the town, in the midst of a garden, wherein are trees that
overtop the roof, and grass that is gemmed with flowers.
It is Mrs. Ballygag's Boarding School for young ladies.
Two young men meet at the gate. We recognize them
as young Mormons. One is Thompson Dunbar; the
other is Arbutus Jones. Arbutus is speaking.
"Yes, sir; I shall marry them ; clean out the school.
I have had a special revelation; the entire senior class
has been sealed to me, and I am going to marry the two
other classes so as to make a complete job of it."
"But the senior and junior classes have engaged
themselves to me," replied Dunbar. " I proposed to them
yesterday, and they said that they could love me alone."
" Can't help that," said Jones ; " I have arranged the
matter with the Prophet and the parents. The entire
concern has been offered me in marriage, and I am now'
on my way to see Mrs. Ballygag, and to get her to wind
up the term and graduate them at once."
"This is maddening ! " exclaimed Dunbar. "Jones,
the affections of those classes have been given to me—
their young hearts are mine. What right have you to
come in and trample rudely upon the holiest emotions of
your fellow-creatures ?"
"The best of rights, in this case," said Jones. "It
has been revealed to me that my duty is to annex this
boarding-school. It is a sacred obligation. There is not
a bit of use, you know, Dunbar, in your kicking against
the decrees of the church."
"*But you don't want the whole thirty-two of them ?"
THE TRAGEDY OF
"Yes, sir; I want them all. I claim them as my
tride."
" I love them all dearly," said Dunbar ; " but sooner
than have any fuss I'll let you pick sixteen, if you'll leave
me the rest."
"No; I shall take them all. But I don't know;
maybe, I might agree to leave you the one with warm
hair and freckles. My heart, somehow, doesn't throb
wildly for her."
" Never !" exclaimed Dunbar.
" Oh, very well, then. Let her alone. I'll pool her in
with the rest."
The eye of Thompson Dunbar flashed fire. Step¬
ping up to Arbutus Jones, he whispered fiercely in his ear :
"You think you will marry this school. Never!
never ! I swear it! My faith is pledged to the women
of my love, and they shall be mine. Mark what I say !
I shall make them my wife !"
Arbutus Jones opened the gate, and, turning away
with a light laugh, he said, " Dunbar, don't talk like an
idiot," and then he walked up to the porch, pulled the
door-bell, and called for Mrs. Ballygag.
Thompson Dunbar sauntered sadly down the street,
meditating upon his plans. Secretly he entered his office,
and writing thirty-two letters, he dispatched them through
the post, and then went towards the livery-stable.
Midnight came. Dark, cold, and silent. The belated
wayfarer, walking into town, was startled to perceive,
rushing by him in the gloom, a man, who seemed to be
carrying a coil of rope upon his arm. Behind him eight
carriages proceeded slowly, and with little noise.
THOMPSON DUNBAR. 161
" A midnight funeral procession," the traveller thought.
The man stopped in front of Mrs. Ballygag's mansion.'
The carriages halted by the kerbstone, a hundred yards
below. The man opened the gate noiselessly, and walked
quickly around to the side of the house. He uttered a
low whistle, and a sash in a second-story window was
carefully raised. He flung toward it the end of a rope,
which was seized and hauled until a ladder of rope
stretched from the window to the ground.
" Come, dearest," said Thompson Dunbar, in a loud
whisper. " Do not be afraid. I will catch you if you fall."
Then the form of a lithe and graceful girl emerged from
the window, and glided slowly, but easily down the frail
ladder. Then another descended. Then another, until
thirty-two lithe and graceful girls had reached the ground.
As they came, Thompson Dunbar clasped them one by
one in his arms, and kissed them fervently, pointing the
way to the carriages.
The last one whispered in his ravished ear that the
thirty-two trunks were standing, ready packed, in the
chamber above, and that Thompson had better see to
getting them down. But the idea did not seem to strike
Thompson. He asked himself what love had to do with
trunks ? He thought how little pure affection cares for
material things. He knew that he was ready to die for
his darlings. That would be heroic. But to carry thirty-
two trunks down a rope-ladder, he considered, in the
strictest sense, a prosaic performance. Did Romeo
shoulder Juliet's trunk ? Did Paul take Virginia upon one
arm, and her trunk upon the other ? Did Petrarch inter¬
rupt his sweet converse with Laura with struggles with
ii
THE TRAGEDY OF
her luggage ? He thought not. Let the trunks remain
as a souvenir with Mrs. Ballygag. He gloated over the
thought that she and Jones would weep tears of anguish
and helpless rage over those leathern receptacles.
He went toward the carriages. They were all filled,
and the doors were closed. He mounted upon the seat
with the driver of the foremost one, and said :—■
" Drive like mad, now ! Forty dollars extra for you,
if you reach Ogden by daylight! "
The vehicles dashed onward swiftly through the night.
Over rough roads, down through canons, through dense
forests, over mighty hills, along the brow of more than
one precipice ; scaring the fox and the rabbit that lay in
the path ; waking the echoes of the passes, and defying
the winds which blew in gusty blasts from the mountain
tops.
It was a long and difficult ride. It would have been
tedious for Thompson and his bride, but for the thought
that each moment brought them nearer to the wedded
bliss which is the holiest joy that has ever sweetened
human life.
The clay was faintly breaking over the summits of ther
Wasatch range when the procession entered Ogden.
Thompson ordered his companion to drive at once to the
house of Bishop Potts. The Bishop's dwelling showed
no signs of life. He was asleep with his family—at that
early hour. Thompson rang the door-bell fiercely. The
Bishop's grey head was thrust from the window.
" Who is making all that racket down there ?" he said
"What's the matter? What do you want ? "
" It's I, Thompson Dunbar ! I've run over from the
THOMPSON DUNBAR.
163
city to be married. Hurry down and perform the cere¬
mony, please."
" Can't you get married at some less unearthly hour
than this ? I've been up all night with the twins and
sixteen others of the children, and four of Mrs. Potts have
not had a wink of sleep, and here you come routing us
out just as we are dozing off! I'll marry you after break¬
fast. There is no hurry about it, I reckon."
" But there z> a hurry though. I've eloped with Mrs.
Ballygag's boarding school. It loved me, and they
wanted to marry it to another man, Arbutus Jones, you
know; so it fled with me. We are bent on instantaneous
consolidation ! "
" How many of her are there ?" asked the Bishop.
" Only thirty-two."
" And you're single ? "
" Yes."
" Very well. That'll do to begin with, but a man
of your standing must disembowel a couple more
boarding schools if you want to hold your own in the
church! I'll come down and see what I can do for
you."
Thompson helped his bride to alight, and a most charm¬
ing picture she presented, standing there in a row in the
early morning light, blushing with modest joy beneath the
smiles and caresses of her devoted lover. While she
waited for the Bishop she engaged in a simultaneous
arrangement of her back hair. Thompson thought she
had never appeared so lovely as when, holding the front
strands in her mouth, the whole thirty-two of her twisted
up her tresses, and inserted her combs in them.
164
THE TRAGEDY OF
A moment later the front door opened, and the Bishop
appeared in dressing-gown and slippers.
Mr. Dunbar ushered the bride into the Bishop's draw¬
ing-room, and seated her upon the sofas and chairs.
Then he drew the Bishop aside.
" By the way, Bishop, what are you going to charge ?
What are your rates ?"
" Well," said the Bishop, smiling, " where there is only
one couple my regular fee is two dollars. But of course
I allow a discount on wholesale transactions. I'll tell you
what I'll do. Seeing that you are a young man, and
evidently in earnest in your efforts to start properly in
life, I'll put you the whole lot in at forty-five dollars.
How's that ?"
" Reasonable, very reasonable, indeed," said Thomp¬
son.
" Stand up, my dear," said the Bishop to the bride.
The bride stood up in a semicircle, while in the
doorway gathered seven or eight of the Bishop's wife, to
witness the impressive scene.
Thompson Dunbar then advanced, and taking from
the pocket of his coat tail a quarter of a peck of gold
rings he put them in his hat and handed them to the
Bishop, who began the service.
" Thompson Dunbar, you take these women for your
wedded wife ? You promise to love, honour, and cherish?"
etc., etc.
Thompson Dunbar said, " I do."
The Bishop, turning to the bride, said—
"Emma, Henrietta, Louisa, Geraldine, Polly, Mary
Jane, Matilda, Gertrude, Lucy, Imogene, Sally, Rebeccgy
THOMPSON DUNBAR.
165
Maria, Georgine, Hetty, Columbia, Martha, Caroline,
Patty, Julia, Emily, Anastasia, Rachel, Sapphira, Ethel-
berta, Hannah, Josephine, Bertie, Mignon, Patience,
Agatha, Ann Jane—you take this man to be your wedded
husband? You promise to love, honour, and obey?"
etc., etc.
And the bride said she did, and she would.
Then Thompson, with gladness in his eyes, and wild
emotions in his bosom, took the hat from the Bishop and
walked around the semi-circle of the bride, and placed
the rings on her fingers. Then the Bishop pronounced
them man and wife; and Thompson started around
the bridal curve again to clasp her in succession to his
heart.
He was just releasing himself from the twenty-sixth
clasp when a wild tumult was heard in the street; the
noise of hurrying wheels, the quick tramp of horses, a
crying of voices. The Bishop went to the casement to
ascertain the cause of the tumult which disturbed the
happy marriage festivities. Before he reached the win¬
dow the door was hurled open with violence, and in
rushed Arbutus Jones. Behind him was Mrs. Ballygag.
Jones was white and breathless. Mrs. Ballygag panted,
and brandished in a threatening manner a protuberant
umbrella.
" Stop ! stop! " shouted Jones, as he projected himselt
into the room. " Don't go on! I forbid the marriage!
these women are to be my wife! This man is a depraved
villain! I command you, Bishop, not to perform the
ceremony!"
"Don't you dare to do it, you grey haired old mon-
166
THE TRAGEDY OF
ster !" shrieked Mrs. Ballygag, menacing him with her
umbrella. " You do it at your peril!"
" I think," said the Bishop, serenely, " you had better
try to be calmer. Try to restrain your emotion, as the
weather is too warm for violent excitement."
" Let 'em go on," said Dunbar. " It makes no differ¬
ence if they get their emotional thermometers up to a
hundred and ten in the shade; nobody cares."
"You don't care, hey?" exclaimed Mrs. Ballygag,
" you don't care ! I'll make you care if there's any law in
the land. Coming round people's houses with rope-ladders
in the middle of the night, stealing their poor defenceless
children ! I'll see if you don't care!"
" Children, madam?" said the Bishop.
" Pretty tough children, these !" said Thompson, wav¬
ing his hand toward the bride.
" Yes,children," replied Mrs. Ballygag, "mere babes
and sucklings. Getting married, you baggage!" said
she, looking at the bride. "You're in a nice condition
to think about marriage! How do you bound Nova
Scotia? Tell me this instant! Don't know? I thought
not! Don't know how to bound Nova Scotia—don't
know that the Tropic of Capricorn is not one of the
United States ; don't know that the Peloponnesian war
was not fought by negroes in Canada West, and yet you
consider yourselves fitted for the responsibilities of mat¬
rimony ! It's simply too ridiculous to be discussed."
" I am sorry, madam, that they are ignorant of the
geographical facts connected with the Peloponnesian war,
but we will try to be happy while we study them up to¬
gether."
THOMPSON DUNBAR.
167
" You will never study them together," remarked
Arbutus Jones. " These ladies return at once with me."
" Certainly! " said Mrs. Ballygag; " they go back to
school to-day. I shall put them on bread and water, and
give them fifteen extra sums a-piece in Reduction of
Compound Numbers."
" They will not go back, I think," said Thompson.
"We'll see about that," replied Jones. " Girls, leave
the room!"
" Don't go! " said Thompson.
"Attend to your own business ! " exclaimed Arbutus,
fiercely.
" If you speak to me in that manner again, I'll throw
^oii out of the window! " said Dunbar.
" Lay your hand upon me and ydu are a dead man,"
replied Arbutus, drawing a revolver.
" Two can play at that game," said Thompson,
quickly drawing another.
t^fiat the result might have been if the dispute had
proceeded further can only be conjectured; but as soon
as the weapons were produced, the bride shrieked wildly,
and the whole thirty-two of her fell fainting on the floor,
while' Mrs. Ballygag collapsed, and embracing her um¬
brella, sank unconscious in the corner.
For a moment, wild confusion prevailed; but the
Bishop retained his presence of mind, and running into
the garden, he seized a huge watering-pot, and bringing it
in, he sprinkled the faces of the bride with water until
one by one she revived. Mrs. Ballygag came to without
assistance, and sat up looking the picture of distress.
When all of the party were restored, the Bishop said :
rAO can play at that game," baid Thompson.—Page iG'-\
THOMPSON DUNBAR.
169
"Let us have no more of these scenes ! Mr. Jones,
it is my duty to inform you that you have come
too late. Mr. Dunbar is already married to these
ladies."
" Married! " shouted Jones.
" Married!" shrieked Mrs. Ballygag.
" Married," replied the Bishop and Thompson.
" This is infamous," said Arbutus. " Dunbar, you
have played me a scurvy trick. But I shall be even with
you."
"You can have any satisfaction you want," replied
Dunbar. "But, I say, Jones, how about that revelation ?
Crooked, wasn't it ? Didn't reveal so very much after
all?"
"We shall see !" exclaimed Jones ; and then smash¬
ing his hat down savagely upon his head, he left the
room.
Mrs. Ballygag began to cry.
" You have treated me shamefully," she said. " The
last quarter's bills of these girls are not paid. I can't have
any commencement; the reputation of the school is
ruined; and I am a poor lone widow-woman, with no¬
body to help me !"
And Mrs. Ballygag sank down upon a sofa and sobbed
violently.
Then, the bride began to cry also. It was altogether
too melancholy for a wedding. The Bishop drew Thomp¬
son aside.
" Dunbar," he whispered, " you'll have to do some¬
thing for this woman. You must do the fair thing."
" What do you recommend ? "
170
THE TRAGEDY OF
" Well, to tell the truth, if I were you, I'd marry her.
Just throw her in with the rest, as a kind of job lot.
You might as well go the whole figure, while you're
at it."
" I suppose I might. I'll take her."
" I'll charge you only twenty-five cents extra for tying
the knot," said the benevolent Bishop.
" You propose it to her," said Thompson.
" Mrs. Ballygag," said the Bishop, " how would you
like to marry Mr. Dunbar, in with the rest ? He says he
is willing."
With a wild cry of joy, Mrs. Ballygag rushed forward
and threw her arms about Dunbar's neck and nestled her
head in his bosom.
" Do you love me, Thompson ?" she asked, looking up
at him.
"Well, yes; that is, of course, as it were, to a—to a
—to a certain extent ! Take your umbrella off my toe,
please ; the pressure is too severe !"
" Then take me, take me !" she exclaimed. " I'll help
you manage the girls."
The girls looked as if they were not bursting with
ecstasy; but they wanted to be submissive to Thompson,
and so they said nothing.
Then Dunbar took Mrs. Ballygag by the hand, the
Bishop began the ceremony, and in a few moments she
was made a thirty-third of him.
THOMPSON DUNBAR.
CHAPTER II.
the departure.
Upon the homeward journey most of the bride rode in
the eight carriages, while the joyous - groom occupied his
former seat with the coachman of the foremost vehicle.
The recent Mrs. Ballygag, however, was compelled by
the want of room also to ride with one of the drivers.
She entertained him during the journey by a cross-exami¬
nation, the purpose of which was to ascertain if, in his
opinion, a horse is an adverb or a preposition, and if he
knew how to multiply vulgar fractions. When he re¬
marked to her, " I ain't got no use for a hymn-book," she
parsed the sentence for him, and showed him clearly how
two negatives make an affirmative.
Whenever his horses were disposed to go slowly, she
prodded them savagely with the ferule of her umbrella,
and sometimes when the portion of the bride which was
riding in the carriage beneath her laughed too boiste¬
rously, she would reach over and push her umbrella in at
the window two or three times to indicate her disapproba¬
tion of such scandalous behaviour.
Altogether, it is believed that the late widow Ballygag
enjoyed the trip exceedingly. But it is doubtful if the
driver did ; and it is certain Thompson did not, at least,
during the periods when they were passing along the
edges of the precipices, and she was constantly scream¬
ing for him to come and save her from being dashed to
pieces.
At last, however, Salt Lake City was reached, and the
bridal party was taken at once to Dunbar's modest little
172
THE TRAGEDY OF
cottage. When the bride had all dismounted and entered
the drawing-room, Thompson whispered to the late Mrs.
Ballygag that there were four of his wife to whom he had
not yet been formally introduced, and he begged her to
perform the ceremony. She did so, remarking at the
same time to the girls—
"Your husband is a good and worthy man, and I want
you to behave well towards him. I am going to keep an
eye on you to see that you do it, too I"
The honeymoon passed blissfully. Thompson Dun¬
bar was by profession a sailor, and having no ship at this
time he was at liberty to devote himself wholly to domes¬
tic life. He purchased new furniture for his house. He
made a contract with the calico factory for permanent
supplies of dress goods, and the factory at once put in
extra looms and employed more hands. He bought bon¬
nets with a recklessness that threatened bankruptcy. He
established relations with a candy manufacturer, which
guaranteed him the few tons of chocolate drops that he
required at lower rates than usual. In fact, he launched
himself fairly and equally upon the sea of wedded life.
Wedded life ! Ah, how few of us understand those
words as they came to Thompson Dunbar and his bride !
To how few have they so rich and beautiful a meaning!
Many of us think that we have had sweet experiences
within the sacred precincts of the home; but not to many
of us is it given to have thirty-four souls with but a single
thought—thirty-four hearts that beat as one. The man
who sits down with one wife by his hearthstone, and thinks
he is happy, knows nothing of the tenderer joy of him who,
around a hearthstone twenty feet square, gathers thirty-
THOMPSON DUNBAR.
173
two sweet faces (the recent Mrs. Ballygag was homely),
and looks love into all of those eyes that speak again.
Such a man has a nobler affection, a loftier aim, a purer
ambition, a mightier impulse to dash into the struggle
of life and win his bread. Who would not toil valiantly
with thirty-three smiles waiting to welcome him home,
and thirty-three hungry women to nourish ?
Thompson Dunbar was proud, and he had a right to
be. Never once in the early days of his married life did
anything happen to cloud his domestic sky ; excepting,
perhaps, on one occasion, when the relict of the lamented
Ballygag hid the kitten in his boot and forgot to tell him
about it; and never did he have any doubts of the future
excepting when he reflected upon the anguish he should
suffer when his duty should call him away from those he
loved.
And the painful summons came at last. He was
ordered to join his ship at San Francisco. She was about
to sail upon a three years' cruise. Three years ! It
seemed intolerable to be separated so long from his dar¬
lings. Poor Dunbar! If he could have foreseen the
trials that were in store for him !
The hour of parting arrived. Let us draw a veil over
the scene. There are some things too sacred for the vul¬
gar eye ; some episodes in a man's life, of which to speak
lightly were a profanation. Mrs. Dunbar clung to him, of
course. Ah, may none of us ever know the agony of such
a farewell. May we never know what a husband suffers
to whom thirty-three wives are clinging in desperate woe.
He tore himself away! He was gone ! Gone ! And
three groups of eleven each of heart-broken women sank
174
THE TRAGEDY OF
upon the front steps and sobbed in bitter despair. Then
they flew to the windows and gazed after him, and waved
their kerchiefs to him, excepting perhaps the aforetime
Ballygag, who, in the violence of her emotion, waved
a flannel petticoat which she had been mending.
Little did they suspect what they should endure ere
they looked upon that fond face again ! Life is so full
of disappointments, so full of But, however, let us
go on.
Thompson Dunbar sailed away upon the bosom of the
mighty deep. For some weeks all was well. The trea¬
cherous ocean held its powers in leash. One night there
was a fearful tempest, and the gallant barque, after a pro¬
longed contest with the elements, sank to rise no more.
All on board were lost; all save one. Lashed to a spar
Thompson Dunbar contrived to sustain himself in the
seething foam for four days. Upon the morning of the
fifth day he was cast upon a desert island. He crawled
out of the reach of the waves and fell asleep. He slum¬
bered long, and when he awoke he released himself from
the spar, and looked about him. He perceived that the
island was small. It was only fifteen feet wide by thirty-
eight feet long ; but Dunbajj^vas satisfied with it. It was
something for him to stand upon, to live upon.
Feeling hungry, he walked out looking to find some¬
thing to eat. He discovered a bed of fine oysters in a
little cove at the northern end of the island, and to his
great joy he found that a huge hole in the rock contained
a dozen hogsheads of rain water ! These things were so
exceedingly fortunate that he felt sure of going through
the regular round of desert island experiences. But in
THOMPSON DUNBAR.
*75
this he was, to a certain extent, disappointed. The oysters
and water remained, of course, and now and then some
sociable bird would call and leave an egg, but none of
the usual desert island conveniences floated ashore.
Thompson Dunbar remained upon the island for fifteen
years ; but when his clothing began to wear out no vessel
was wrecked upon an adjacent and handy reef, and all
the crew drowned, so that he could have a fair chance at
the chests which contained clothing that fitted him
exactly.
And no other ship was cast ashore into which he
entered and found twenty bags full of Spanish doubloons,
which he gazed at with proud contempt, while the thought
occurred to him how useless such dross is, especially
when you are on a desert island, with no possibility of
spending it.
And he did not find in the cabin of such a wreck
double-barrelled guns and carpenter's tools, and canned
fruits and vegetables, and such a general variety of useful
and fancy articles as no ship ever included in a single
cargo, excepting perhaps in cases where the purpose of
the owners was to have been wrecked to oblige some
Robinson Crusoe or other, and to make him fat and com¬
fortable.
And when he felt lonely and longed for fellowship and
the sweet communion of some kindred soul, it did not
happen that a squad of chocolate-coloured cannibals
dashed up in a canoe, and were all killed by a single
explosion of a musket; all save one, who fell at Dun¬
bar's feet, and became his slave and his pupil and his
riend.
176
THE TRAGEDY OF
On the contrary, Dunbar had a particularly prosaic
time upon the island; eating and sleeping and walking
about. After the first shock produced by his sense of
isolation had passed, he surveyed the island and made a
map of it. Then he took possession of it in the name
of his government, and formally annexed it to the United
States by hoisting a flag made of a felicitous combina¬
tion of his handkerchief and his red flannel shirt. In
order to put in the time, and to give himself occupation
congenial to an American, he held elections thrice a
year, and he celebrated the 4th of July and Washington's
birthday, when they came around, by reading the Decla¬
ration of Independence, and singing the " Star Spangled
Banner."
But his wife! Did he ever think of her ? Ah, yes!
The bitterness of that separation no tongue can tell.
Often he would lie upon his back and take from his pocket
the thirty-three miniatures and look at them with longing
and tearful eyes. And he would get to wondering which
was Emma, which was Rebecca, which Columbia, and
which Sapphira. The lineaments of Ballygag were the
only ones he felt certain about, but, somehow he never
lingered very long over them.
And he would ask himself if any of her ever thought
much of him. He would wonder if she was all alive, or
if, perchance, some of her counted him dead, and had
remarried. Perchance she had departed, sorrowful and
broken-hearted, and only thirty-three little grassy mounds
in the churchyard remained to mark the remains of her
who once had been the joy of his life.
It might be that if he should ever return home he
THOMPSON DUNBAR.
i77
178
THE TRAGEDY OF
would find his cottage desolate, with no one to love, none
to caress, and it would devolve upon him to begin life
afresh by embezzling another boarding-school. The
thought was bitterness to him. Only those who have
learned from a sad experience what it is to lose three
and-thirty wives at a blow, can realize the depth and in¬
tensity of the sufferings of this unhappy young man.
CHAPTER III.
the victory of jones.
Meantime, how did Mrs. Dunbar bear the bereavement
that had come to her? For the first three or four years
she was hopeful; but gradually, as the time passed swiftly
by, and no word came to her from the wanderer, she
began to feel the growing agony of despair.
Often she would go up as the evening shadows fell,
and stand at each of the thirty-three windows, and gaze
out toward the glowing west, straining all sixty-five of
her eyes (Ethelberta had a cataract), to catch a glimpse
of her Thompson. But, alas ! Thompson did not come;
and as a feeling of deep sadness stole in over her souls,
Mrs. Dunbar would bow her heads over the infants in her
arms and weep. Perhaps she would wail out her woes in
a plaintive lullaby, which was so distorted by her sobs
that Ballygag's former partner would stop long enough to
scold her for singing fiat, and not marking the dotted
notes with sufficient distinctness.
The miser), of a suffering woman's heart ! Who shall
THOMPSON D UNBAR.
179
sound it? And what multiplication table can compass it
where it is thirty-three times increased ? There are some
conundrums that have to be given up at the outset.
At last, however, she was forced to the conclusion that
Thompson was dead. It was inevitable. The ship had
never been heard from. No message had ever come up
from the roaring sea, to tell the story of her destruction.
She was gone ; and, without doubt, Thompson had gone
down fathoms deep into the cruel waters with her. Mrs.
Dunbar abandoned hope, and decided to mourn for him
as one that had been called away to another life.
As soon as her determination became known, and she
began to talk about putting on mourning, the city mer¬
chants noted an advance of two per cent, in crape and
black bombazine, and the bachelor Saints began to have
revelations concerning their duty to persuade her from
prolonging the period of her widowhood.
Arbutus Jones was enabled to perceive with perfect
clearness, what were his obligations in the premises. He
made up his mind that the anguish of Mrs. Dunbar could
be assuaged only by sweet words of consolation from his
lips. He called early to offer his sympathies, and after¬
wards he would go around often in the evenings and talk
with her about the virtues of the departed Thompson, for
whom, however, it Was impossible for him to feel any but
a fictitious enthusiasm.
After a while, he became more assiduous in his atten¬
tions, and he felt, reviving in his bosom, with all its vehe¬
ment force, the love he had for her when she was maid¬
ens. Often he would lead her forth in the twilight, and,
while as many of her little hands as he could conveniently
" While as many of her little hands as he could conveniently hold, lay
confidingly in his."—P'ge 179.
THOMPSON DUNBAR.
181
hold, lay confidingly in his, they would stroll to some
quiet, grassy dell, and she would arrange herself in a
circle by the side of a babbling brook, while he sat in
the centre, and whispered soft words of love to her, and
walked around, and pressed each of her hands, and let
the love light of his eyes shine on her faces, and warm to
life the flickering flame in her hearts.
One evening he proposed to her in a lump. He asked
her to be his. The Ballygag was the first to speak. She
said :—
"Have you examined your heart, Arbutus? Do you
Jove us truly ?"
" Certainly! Of course ! Most of you, anyway. How¬
ever, sooner than lacerate your feelings, I am willing to
count you out, and permit you to cling to the memory of
Thompson."
" But I'm the one that can't be counted out. If you
love me, I am yours !"
" I am willing to sacrifice my love for your sake, to
save your feelings."
" You are too noble," said the late Mrs. B. " I cannot
consent to such an act of heroic devotion upon your
part."
" I think you would be happier, maybe, without me.
I'll start you in another boarding-school."
" Loving heart! And do you think I would be willing
to accept such unselfish kindness, when I could not repay
you by watching over you ? N ever !"
"And then you know," said Jones, " Dunbar might
eventually turn up and it would be so comforting for him
to have at least one of his wives remaining to him. So
I82
THE TRAGEDY OF
upon the whole, perhaps, I had better let you float along
as you are."
"Ah ! Arbutus ! I love you more than ever when you
show yourself so ready to surrender your own joy for the
good of others. Take me, oh take me to your fond
bosom!"
And the former Mrs. Ballygag fell towards him with a
purpose to be folded to his heart; but Jones, with remark¬
able presence of mind, pretended not to see her, and
addressed himself assiduously to the task of assisting
Sapphira to rise from the ground. Then the whole of
Mrs. Dunbar rose, and retiring a little space, went into
committee to consider the question. After an animated
debate, during which the Ballygag gave her views the
fullest and most generous expression, Mrs. Dunbar
decided by a vote of twenty-nine to three (the woman
with the cataract not voting) to become the wife of Arbu¬
tus Jones!
Jones learned the decision with transports. One by
one his sweetheart was held in his fond embrace, as he
kissed her and promised to be true to her ; and one by
one, as she looked into his manly face and found there
the radiant joy of pure affection, she was filled with trust¬
fulness and peace, and with him went back to her home
full of blissful anticipations of a future which should com¬
pensate for all the suffering of the sorrowful past.
Mr. Jones was very anxious to be married speedily;
but the widow, of course, pressed for such delay as would
be necessary to enable her to prepare new outfit's of
clothing. There are always stirring times in the busi¬
ness of a community when a Mormon wife or widow
THOMPSON DUNBAR. 183
begins to make a movement in the matter of clothes. In
this case, the appearance of Mrs. Dunbar unexpectedly
in the market, caused such a revival in trade, that the
merchants began to buy houses and lots, and to set up
carriages under the impression that a new era of pros¬
perity had begun. But eventually Mrs. Dunbar was
ready, and the day was fixed. She expressed a preference
for Bishop Potts, of Ogden, as the officiating clergyman,
because she was used to him, and, of course, Jones asked
the worthy Bishop to come over and tie the knots.
The wedding attracted a good deal of attention in
Salt Lake City. Jones sailed up the aisle of the temple
with Sapphira and Ethelberta upon each arm, while fifteen
of his best friends each convoyed two others of Mrs.
Dunbar. The sexton brought up the rear with the ex-
widow Ballygag, who honoured the occasion by turning
out in a green bonnet with yellow ostrich feathers, a
crimson poplin dress embroidered with blue, with a new
false front upon her head, and with a look of beaming
happiness bursting through her gold spectacles.
The ceremony occupied but a few moments, and
when the Bishop having made these thirty-four one flesh,
the procession turned, passed down the aisle again,
entered the carriages, and went to the home that was
once Dunbar's, but now had come into the possession
of Jones.
Dunbar! how he would have been torn with agony if
he, far away upon that lonely island of the sea, could
have witnessed that scene in the temple! But this tor-
ture was mercifully spared him. At the moment when
his loving wife was given to another by the Bishop,
184
THE TRAGEDY OF
Thompson was splitting oysters open with his jack-knife,
and thinking how uncommonly good they would be with
horse-radish. No voice whispered the truth to him.
No pangs of the heart interfered with the vigour of his
gastric juice !
Of the domestic life which came to Arbutus Jones,
with the golden days which followed the wedding, we
need not speak. It passed away sweetly and brought
him perfect contentment. But one day, a month or two
after the marriage, Arbutus, upon his return home, found
an elderly lady whom he did not know occupying a seat
at his dinner-table. He thought at first it might be one
of his wife, so he counted the row of her, and found that
there were thirty-four women instead of thirty-three. A
moment later Sapphira introduced the stranger as her
mother.
" She has come to stay with us, Arbutus, dear, upon
my invitation. I longed to have her with me, and I
knew you would welcome her for my sake. Won't you,
darling ?"
" Oh, certainly! Glad to see her ! Very glad ! Of
course. She is always welcome here!"
But Jones did not look as if he were really glad. A
dark foreboding entered his mind. The precedent was
bad; it was dangerous. If this kind of thing began,
where was it going to stop ? That was the question that
he asked himself, with gloom in his soul and a scowl
upon his brow.
Two days later Mary Jane's mother arrived. Mary
Jane said that she had invited her mother down to spend
the summer, and to give her a chance to learn to love
THOMPSON DUNBAR.
her son-in-law. Arbutus forced a smile as he welcomed
her, but it was not difficult to see that his mother-in-law
would have to labour hard to induce him to return her love.
The following week Ethelberta's mother came, osten¬
sibly for the purpose of superintending an operation
upon Ethelberta's cataract. But Arbutus saw plainly
through the pretence. He was far too acute a man not
to know that a woman who comes for the purpose of wit¬
nessing an operation upon a cataract is not necessarily
accompanied by six trunks, eleven boxes, a bedstead, two
bureaus, a sewing-machine, a cooking-stove, a poll par¬
rot, and a cat. She had come to stay. He knew it, and
he grated his teeth as he strove to bear it patiently.
A month passed, and at intervals mothers-in-law con¬
tinued to arrive, until there was a sum total of twenty-
one in Jones's house. He began to grow desperate.
One day he called the Ballygag aside. He asked her if
she had a mother. She said she had not.
Arbutus clasped her in his arms and kissed her
tenderly. She was amazed. He had not been lavish of
caresses with her. She asked for an explanation. He
said—
" I adore a woman who has lost her parents. Ah,
Lucille !" (her name was Lucille), " my only regret now
is that you didn't keep an orphan asylum instead of a
boarding-school, when Dunbar eloped with your establish¬
ment."
As he spoke thus the door-bell rang. Lucille went out
to see who was there. When she returned, she said the
mothers of Columbia and Emma had just arrived with
two waggon-loads of trunks and furniture.
186
THE TRAGEDY OF
Arbutus shuddered.
"This is terrible, Mrs. Bally—Lucille, I mean. If
this thing continues I shall go mad. I did not bargain
for this. Twenty-three of them already— twenty-three
mothers-in-law ! My reason will totter on its throne !"
" Yes," said the former Mrs. B., " and Henrietta and
Sarah and Matilda told me that they had written this
morning for their mothers to come on and live here; and
Sarah said she had invited one of her aunts also."
A spasm of pain flitted over the face of Arbutus Jones.
He sat down upon a chair. Was the curse come upon
him ? Were the fates preparing for him a scorpion whip
of retribution for his destruction of Dunbar's hopes of
happiness ? We cannot tell. Maybe we wouldn't tell if
we could.
While he sat there trying to think what he should do
to avert the calamity that was overpowering him, a ser¬
vant entered with a telegram. Jones tore it open and
read it.
" Wh—wh—what's this ? ' My dear son-in-law : Meet
me at the train on Tuesday. I am coming to board with
you for a few months. I am your affectionate mother-
in-law.—' Rebecca Fitler.'
"Rebecca Fitler! Who—what—which one's she ?"
" She is Imogene's mother. I know her well. She's
worse about a house than the whooping-cough. Quar¬
relled with her husband till she killed him," said
Lucille.
"Ha! ha!" laughed Jones, fiercely. "Twenty-six
mothers-in-law and an aunt! This is refreshing! It is
delightful! Lucille, I am beginning to feel murderous !
THOMPSON DUNBAR.
187
If this kind of thing goes on I shall soon be in a frame
of mind which will make indulgence in assassination
seem like pastime."
" I'm afraid it will go on," said the late Mrs. Bally-
gag, looking out of the window ; " I see Geraldine's
mother coming up the front yard with a carpet-bag and a
band-box. She makes twenty-seven !"
" Twenty-seven and an aunt! " exclaimed Arbutus.
"Five more to hear from ! But we can rely upon them
to come, I think, can't we, Lucille ? May be I'd better
write to them for fear they forget it;" and Arbutus
laughed a wild, hysterical laugh.
" What are you going to do about it ? " asked the late
widow B.
" Do ? What am I going to do ? I am going to do
something terrible ! Something desperate ! No man can
stand this persecution ! I don't mind having a couple of
dozen or so of mothers-in-law around, but the line must
be drawn somewhere, and I draw it at twenty-seven and
an aunt."
" You could get rid of them by obtaining a divorce,"
said Lucille.
"No; I shan't do that. It's too expensive. Besides,
I don't want to give up the girls."
" Suppose you order the mothers to leave, and if they
refuse force them from the house ? "
" Won't do," said Arbutus, shaking his head thought¬
fully. "You don't know them. An army couldn't put
them out—an army rigged out with Krupp guns and
battering rams. No, no ! We must resort to something
more desperate."
i88
THE TRAGEDY OF
" How would it do to put poison in their tea ? "
" I can't see any profit in it. They'll die. I'll have to
stand the funeral expenses, and may be pay the cost of
the post-mortem examinations.''
''Well, then, blow them up with gunpowder."
" No, dear ; you must suggest something more practi¬
cable. The explosion would disfigure the furniture, and it
would make old Partridge, the coroner, wild with joy.
Lucille, I hate that man with bitter hatred; and shall I
do a thing that will give him thirty or forty inquests, and
help him to pay off the mortgage on his house? Never,
my dear, never !"
" I don't see how we can manage it, then," said the
Ballygag.
" Let me give you an idea," said Arbutus. " I have
in my mind the outlines of a malignant plot, which will
rid me of these women for ever. It is an awful thing to
do, this that I propose, but the case is desperate ; I am
driven to an extremity. Will you promise to help me in
it?"
"Yes."
" Do you know any of Mrs. Brigham Young."
" Oh, yes; one of her went to school to me. She was
the best girl I had at grammar. She could tell a participle
as far as she could see it."
"Well," said Arbutus, " I want you to go to see her.
Tell her I will give her a thousand dollars if she will
persuade the Prophet to have a revelation declaring that
all my mothers-in-law must be sealed at once to Part¬
ridge, the coroner ! Will you ?"
"You must have a very deep grudge against Partridge.'
THOMPSON DUNBAR.
189
" I have! I want him to suffer. Will you go ?"
" I will; and I think I can manage the matter for
you. How about Sarah's aunt ? "
" Run her in with the rest! Make it as hard for
Partridge as we can. Give him the whole twenty-eight."
" I'll go around at once," said Lucille, and she left the
room.
A gleam of savage exultation shone from Jones's eyes,
as he thought of the probable completeness of his venge¬
ance. In an hour the Ballygag returned. It was all
fixed. She had a promise that the order would be issued
the next morning.
Sure enough, next morning Partridge called, looking
livid with rage.
"Where," said he to Jones, "are these preposterous
old hags that you are trying to shove off on me ? Where
are they ? Trot 'em out so's I can see 'em."
" See here, Partridge, I don't want you to speak in
that disrespectful manner of my wife's mothers. What
do you want to see them for ?"
" Oh, you needn't pretend you don't know. I'm
mighty certain you fixed this thing up against me. But
I s'pose I've got to take 'em. So let's see 'em."
The ladies filed in. Jones announced the news to
them, as gently as he could. Six fainted on the spot.
Ten simply screamed. Three said they'd die rather than
marry a coroner. Three, and Sarah's aunt, smiled, and
said they considered it as, upon the whole, rather a good
thing.
" Well, I don't," replied Partridge. " To speak plainly
you're a discouraging-looking crowd. See here, you
THE TRAGEDY OF
women who are screaming there, you needn't carry on in
that manner. You don't want me any less than I want
you !"
"Partridge," said Jones, "go about it with more
suavity. You can't possibly gain their affection if you
proceed in that manner. Woo them gently."
" I don't want any interference from you," replied
Partridge. " Here, you women! Get on your things, and
come along. I'd commit suicide to get rid of you,
if it wasn't that I don't want my successor to collect
a fee for my remains. Come on now, and be quick
about it."
Then the bride and groom filed out; Mrs. Jones,
meantime, standing in a line in the hall weeping, while
Jones kept his handkerchief to his eyes and chuckled.
When Partridge reached the front gate, he turned
around, and, shaking his fist at Jones, he shouted : —
" You never mind ! I'll pay you for this, old fellow !"
And then the party proceeded to the temple, and soon
was hopelessly bound in the chains of wedlock.
Upon the departure of his wife's mothers, Jones
rubbed his hands, and, in a gleeful mood, danced about
the room with the Ballygag. Pie was joyful. He had
reason for joy. But there was a dire and awful retribu¬
tion preparing for him. The shadow of his doom was
slowly creeping toward him.
THOMPSON DUNBAR.
191
CHAPTER IV.
the return.
Fifteen years had elapsed since Thompson Dunbar
tore himself away from his bride, and his happy home.
Fifteen years had he dragged out a dreary existence
upon his lonely rock in the midst of the sea. One day
he saw a ship approaching the island, and he made frantic
signals to attract the attention of those on board. Twice
the ship seemed to turn away from him, but at last, to
his great joy, his signals were answered, a boat was
lowered, and in half-an-hour he stood upon the deck of
" The Golden Horn," bound for San Francisco.
The captain gave him a suit of clothes, and loaned him
some money; and as soon as the vessel touched the
wharf, a few weeks later, he leaped ashore, and took the
first train for Salt Lake City.
Imagine the alternations of hope and despair that
distracted his mind ! Again and again he asked himself
how he should find her. Would she be all alive and well,
or partially dead ? Would his children be alive ? Would
he find his home as beautiful as ever? Would he go
there to obtain peace and joy, or to sutler pangs of
terrible sorrow ?
As he mused, the train entered the city. It was early
afternoon. He thought he would go to the hotel and
learn something of the truth, before he sought his cottage.
It might be less terrible if he should be prepared be¬
forehand.
The landlord of the hotel did not recognize him.
192
THE TRAGEDY OF
His bronzed and furrowed face, his shaggy hair and
beard, his bent form, suggested nothing of the Thomp¬
son Dunbar who had gone away a decade and a half
before,
Thompson sought information from the landlord.
" Did you know a man named Thompson Dunbar ?"
he asked.
"Yes, indeed! Knew him well. He left here fifteen
or sixteen years ago. He was a sailor, you know."
" What became of him ?"
' Lost, sir, lost! It's supposed so, at any rate. No
word ever came from him, or about him. His ship was
wrecked, we know."
" Was he married ? "
" Married ! Ah ! that's just it, sir ! He was married
to thirty-three of the loveliest girls in the city. A young
and charming bride, and a swarm of the dearest children."
" Did Mrs. Dunbar take it hardly ?"
" Indeed she did, sir! Cried her eyes out, nearly.
Went on at a most fearful rate. Everybody sympathized
with her."
"Is she all alive yet ? "
"Oh yes."
" And well ?"
" I believe so ; perfectly. She was the last time I
saw her."
" When did you see her ? "
" Well, I haven't seen her myself for several weeks;
but my book-keeper told me he saw three of Mrs. Jones
out driving yesterday."
" I was referring to Mrs. Dunbar," said Thompson.
THOMPSON DUNBAR.
m
" I know," replied the landlord ; " I say my clerk saw
three of her riding out."
" But you said he saw Mrs. Jones.''
"Well, don't I say he saw Mrs. Jones ! You seem to
be dull of comprehension."
" Maybe I am ; maybe I am. Only you are talking
about Mrs. Jones, and I am talking about Mrs. Dunbar."
" But, my goodness man ! See here ! Her name was
Dunbar when she was Dunbar's wife, wasn't it? And
when she married Jones her name was Jones. Do you
understand ?"
" Married ! is she married ?"
" Certainly! of course!"
" Married to J ones! What J ones ?"
"Why, Arbutus Jones; been married several years.'
The head of Thompson Dunbar fell upon the table,
and he did not even try to keep back the sobs which burst
from his overladen heart. Then a thought occurred to
him. Looking up he said to the landlord :—
" And J ones ? He is dead ? "
" No, sir ; alive and well, and heartier than ever."
Thompson Dunbar arose and staggered from the
room. He sought the privacy of his chamber, where he
could weep tears of passionate grief.
An hour or two later his mind was made up. His
heart was broken, but he would have one long, last
lingering look at his darlings and his children before he
sought the tomb.
He seized his hat and cane, and walked rapidly
toward the house where he used to live. As he came
near to it he recognized it as the old place but little
J3
194
THE TRAGEDY OF
changed. How dear it had been to him ! How much he
had loved it! And now another polluted its hearth¬
stone. Another had whitewashed its fence! He groaned
as he thought of these things.
There were children playing in the yard. One hand¬
some boy had run out into the highway after an errant
ball. Thompson spoke to him. The boy stopped to
listen. Thompson recognized the suit he had on. It had
been made by a pious maternal hand from Dunbar's own
wedding coat.
Thompson asked the boy to sit upon the grass with
him.
" What is your name, my lad ?" he asked.
" William T. Dunbar, sir," the boy replied.
" And where is your father ? "
<£ Drowned !"
" Are you sure of that ? "
" Yes, sir. I know he is. Mother says so."
" Have you no other father ? "
" Yes ! old Jones !"
" Do you love him ?"
" No, sir; not when he licks me."
" He whips you, does he i"
" Sometimes!"
Dunbar felt his anger growing hot. He felt an im¬
pulse to go in and kill Jones on the spot; but he thought
better of it.
" What would you say, my dear boy," he asked, " if I
should tell you that your real father is not dead ? "
" I should say you were a scandalous old story-teller."
" But I do tell you so ! I am your father !"
THOMPSON DUNBAR.
*95
The boy laughed, when he looked thoughtfully at
Dunbar and said:—
" Did you ever read the story about George Washing¬
ton and his little hatchet ? "
" Yes, my son."
" Well, you'd better go home and study up that story.
George couldn't tell a lie. There'll never be an anecdote
of that kind written about you."
Thompson heaved a deep sigh. He was about to
reason with the lad, when a sharp female voice was heard
calling—
" Billee—ee—ee—ee—ee ! Billee—ee—ee!"
" That's me!" said the boy. " She's calling me. I
must go," and he jumped from the ground.
" Who is it ?" asked Dunbar.
" Old Ballygag, we call her," said the boy. "One of
pa's wives !"
The next moment the head of Ballygag was projected
over the fence top, and she saw Thompson.
" Billy," she exclaimed, " you come into the house
this instant! How many times have I told you not to
have anything to do with those abominable tramps that
come loafing about here, sneaking little children away
from their parents, and breaking their mother's heart.
You'll be kidnapped the first thing you know, or lost
like your poor dear father, who went down to the bottom
of the Pacific Ocean and was never heard of again,
leastways, by any of us who ought to have heard of him
if he was alive and well, which he wasn't, Heaven bless
his soul! for how could he be when he was bitten all to
pieces by the sharks ? Billy, come right in this minute
J9& THE TRAGEDY OF
" Jiiijy, come rjght in this minute."—Page 195.
THOMPSON DUNBAR.
197
and you, you old vagabond, move on, and don't come
hanging around here looking like a long-haired lunatic,
scaring people's children half to death ! Move on, or I'll
call the police !"
And the Ballygag grasped Billy, already upon the
other side of the fence, boxed his ears a couple of times
and led hiin in bawling.
Thompson turned sadly away and began to walk to¬
wards his hotel. A tramp I And this was a woman he
had once called by the endearing name of wife ! Better
to have stayed upon his desert island and to have died
there miserable and forlorn, than to have come home to
such agony and insult as this.
He determined never to seek his home again unless
he should resolve to reveal himself to his wife. But the
yearning that he felt was too strong. He could not resist
it. Winn the shadows of evening fell he sought the
house again. There were brilliant lights in the windows
as he softly crept through the gateway and trod with
noiseless footfall upon the gravelled walk. He stepped
upon the porch, and hiding behind a shutter he peered
through the casement.
How beautiful that sweet domestic scene! but how
horrible for him! His own dear sitting-room, and yet not
his!
There she was! Emma, Sapphira, Ethelberta, Hen¬
rietta, Columbia—all of her. A few of her sat about the
centre table knitting. A few of her, were ranged around
the wall. Lucille (his own Ballygag) was there making
over one of Thompson's shirts for Jones ! Everything
seemed to conspire to cut him up.
198
THE TRAGEDY OF
There was Arbutus Jones, his old rival, sitting in an
arm-chair with smiling face, dandling three infants upon
each knee. He was playing with them and with forty-two
other children; and in a corner were seven cradles full of
babes, among them two twins and a triplet, which were
rocked by a hydraulic engine operated by pellucid water
from the sparkling mountain stream. Every now and
then one of Mrs. Jones would look up from her work and
smile at her husband and at the pranks of the little ones.
They were all so peaceful, so happy, so thoughtless of
the haggard man who shivered and shuddered out there
in the dusky night as with wild eyes he devoured the scene.
Thompson looked eagerly at the children. In the
faces of some he traced his own lineaments, his own
noble Roman nose; in others he saw distinctly the facial
outlines of Jones : he saw the nose which turned upward
as if perpetually it would sniff the celestial constellations.
There was a great pain in his heart. He did not know
what to do. He was dazed, bewildered. His first impulse
was to express his emotion by bursting in the window
with a brick. But he repented him of the thought. His
wife was happy. It would be most horrible for him to
break in upon the even current of her lives and to bring
misery to that joyous household. Hecould not bear to do
it. What right had he to make J ones's children mother¬
less, and their father a houseless wanderer ? He would
not do so fearful an act. He would go quietly away and
lay him down and die. Death would be welcome to him
now. He had nothing to live for, nothing to hope for, no
joy or happiness any more in this cold and cruel world.
He returned again to his lodging. That night a
THOMPSON DUNBAR.
199
raging fever attacked him. For days he was wild with
delirium, but at last the fever left him, and he became
conscious. His life was fast ebbing away. The physician
told him that the end was near. He must finish at once
his connection with the affairs of this world.
He called for his landlord.
'' When I am dead," he said, " I want you to have my
remains prepared for the tomb, and then I wish you to
send for Mrs. Arbutus Jones to come here to look upon
my face."
" Which of her ?" asked the landlord, sadly.
" All of her. She loved me once. She will wish to
see me."
" Who are you ?"
"Thompson Dunbar!"
And then his tired spirit winged its way into the illimit¬
able ether. He was no more. Perhaps he was even less.
The last message of the unhappy Thompson was con¬
veyed to Mrs. Jones ; and she came, in melancholy array,
to view all that remained of him who had won the love of
her youth. It was a sad, sad scene at that reunion.
Thirty-two fond women in tears, and the late Mrs. Bally-
gag haunted by an awful fear that she had slain him by
denouncing him as a tramp, snatching his boy from his
arms, and driving him from his home.
Even Jones was affected. Overcome by the spectacle
of his wife's grief, he wandered off disconsolate to the
barroom, and tried to find solace in a variety of mixed
beverages.
Of course Coroner Partridge came ; his duty was to
view the body. When the shocking story was told him,
20O
THE TRAGEDY OF
he laughed. Partridge, a man holding a high and res¬
ponsible and most solemn public position actually laughed
boisterously. Persons thought that his familiarity with
woe had robbed him of sensibility ; but that was not it.
Partridge had suddenly thought of a terrible scheme of
revenge.
The funeral was held upon the following Tuesday.
Mrs. Jones attended in full force, and each of her carried
with her a modest tombstone, bearing a tribute to the
memory of Thompson Dunbar. They buried him upon
the hillside with impressive ceremonies, and then Mrs.
Jones planted the thirty-three tombstones upon the grave
and watered them with her tears.
Mrs. Jones returned to her home sorrowful, but trying
to regard the matter with a spirit of resignation. Thence¬
forth she would be happy with her children.
Happy ! The next morning Mr. Partridge called.
Mr. Jones and the whole of his wife were at home. After
some preliminary and original remarks about the weather,
Partridge said—
" By the way, Jones, you know my brother Joe?"
" The druggist, you mean ?"
"Yes, the druggist. I called, ladies, to ascertain what
you think of him."
"We don't know him," the ladies said.
" And we don't want to know him," J ones added.
" Ah, that is indeed unfortunate. I hoped the ladies
knew him and admired him," said Partridge.
" Nobody," replied Jones, sarcastically," admires a man
who looks like a clothes-pin stuck in an apple. That isn't
our favourite style of man."
THOMPSON DUNBAR.
20 x
" How sad !" exclaimed Partridge, calmly. " It would
be so much better for all parties if there was some basis
upon which to build a genuine affection."
" Affection! What in thunder do you mean ?" de¬
manded Jones, warmly, and rising from his chair.
" Why," said Partridge, " where parties have to live to¬
gether, love is necessary to happiness."
" Partridge !" exclaimed J ones, " I don't want to
knock out your brains ; you have so little to spare. But
I shall be obliged to do so if you keep on. I'll brain
you right before Mrs. Jones."
"Mrs. Jones!" said Partridge. " What Mrs. Jones?
I don't see any Mrs. Jones about here."
"No more of this nonsense," said Jones, fiercely.
" Ouit now, or I'll throw you out of the window."
" When I quit, these ladies go with me," said Part¬
ridge, waving his hand toward the group.
" Mr. Partridge, please explain your self," appealed
Sapphira.
" Certainly, madam."
" He'd better, or I'll murder him," said Jones.
" I suppose, ladies, you consider yourself the wife of
this person, Jones?"
" Certainly," was the unanimous answer.
"Of course," shouted Jones.
" Well, you ain't," said Partridge.
" Why not ?" they asked.
"You were married to him while Dunbar was alive.
The marriage, therefore, was illegal. It was null and
void. Consequently, you are now simply Mrs. Dunbar>
the widow of the late Thompson Dunbar."
202
"Is that all," said Jones, laughing; "we'll soon
remedy that. We will perform the ceremony again this
afternoon."
"Oh, no you won't, Mr. Jones," sneered Partridge.
" I don't think you will."
" Why not ? I'd like to know who will prevent me ? "
" I will."
" How ?»
"Last night, the Prophet Young had a revelation.
He was commanded to seal the whole of the widow
Dunbar to another man. That man was my brother Joe ! "
Arbutus Jones uttered a wild exclamation, which can*
not be reproduced here without injury to good manners
and to the morals of the reader. The thirty-three widows
fell fainting upon the floor. Partridge sent a servant to
call up his carriages. They came. Jones showed some
signs of a resistance, but Partridge said :—
"Come, now, old fellow, you know it's of no use.
This is exactly the way you played it on me, and I took
my punishment like a man. You might as well do the
same. Joe'11 make her a better husband than you, any¬
way."
Jones perceived the folly of fighting against the
Prophet and fate. He kissed his darlings fondly, as they
began to resuscitate, and then flying out into the garden,
he sought a deep recess among the trees, and cursed Joe
and all the Partridges, and the Prophet, and the Church,
and Mormondom generally, from Joe Smith down to
Brigham, and back again. Then he left his home for
ever, envious of the rest that had come to his rival,
Dunbar, in the depths of the sepulchre.
THOMPSON DUNBAR.
203
Partridge took the widow down to his brother Joe's,
and Joe and he tried to persuade her to accept her fate.
She did so, at last, sullenly and reluctantly ; but, never¬
theless, with recognition of the fact that it was a religious
duty. She was married to Joseph Partridge, and to his
home she came after the ceremony. lie tried to make
her happy by giving her free run of the gum drops, and
liquorice, and jujube paste, and fancy soap, and tooth
brushes in the store. But none of these things comforted
her, and life became more intolerable for her every day.
Jones did call one day, when her husband was away
on business at Ogden, and proposed to her to elope with
him, and join the Gentiles. But none of her were willing
to commit such an awful sin, excepting the high-spirited
and irrepressible Ballygag ; and Jones, after considering
the matter, concluded that the enterprise, in her company,
had not those fascinating characteristics which had
seemed to him to distinguish it when the idea first oc¬
curred to him. He bade the whole of Mrs. Partridge
farewell, for ever, and, going out into the wilderness, he
foreswore civilization. He joined the Kickapoo Indians,
and began practising war-whoops.
As for Mrs. Partridge, she dwindled and died, one by
one, and her husband bought an acre in the cemetery, in
which he placed her; and when the last was gone, he
went back to his desolate home, to roll pills in agony,
and to moisten his salts and senna with his tears!
Hiss Ifantmsr's Jinum.
I.
OSHUA HAMMER sat in a rustic arm-
chair, upon his porch, with his feet resting
upon the railing in front of him at a greater
elevation than his head.
It would be interesting if some curious
scientific person should inquire why it is that a
man, an American especially, never sits with per¬
fect comfort unless his legs are extended in the direction
of the planetary system. There is a bare possibility
that the propensity to rest in this manner may be the
lingering trace of the habit our remote simian ancestors
had of hanging with arms and legs from the branches of
trees. The suggestion is offered, with proper respect, to
the preachers of the doctrines of Evolution.
Mr. Joshua Hammer's porch completely surrounded a
large and comfortable dwelling-house which stood, one
MISS HAMMER'S LOVERS.
story high, in the midst of a coffee plantation, in one of
the most beautiful portions of the Republic of Nica¬
ragua, Central America. Mr. Hammer was an American,
a native of New Jersey. Finding the road to wealth at
home full of exceedingly formidable obstacles, he had
invested his savings in a fertile tract in Nicaragua,
planted hundreds of coffee-trees, built himself a fine
house, and begun to accumulate riches. His wife was
dead. His domestic matters were cared for by his
daughter, Irene, his only child, and a singularly hand¬
some girl. At the moment of which we write, Mr. Ham¬
mer had staying with him, as a guest, Miss Sarah
Appleby, his sister-in-law, the sister of his dead wife.
Mr. Hammer sat upon the porch reading a huge
volume that was bound in sheepskin. It seemed to
interest him deeply, for his eyes were fixed upon the
page, and occasionally, as he read, he would pass his
hand, in an anxious sort of way, over some portion of his
body, as if he were feeling the motion of an internal
organ, and was apprehensive of a fatal interruption of the
performance of its functions.
Before he had finished his perusal of the volume, a
tall man, with hair and beard of a reddish hue, and mani¬
festly not a native of the region, ascended the steps to
the porch, and said—
" Good morning, Mr. Hammer !"
Mr. Hammer removed his feet from the railing, closed
his book upon his thumb, and rose to welcome his visitor.
" Halloa, Knox! Glad to see you ! Walk up, and
lake a chair. By the way, Knox, it is lucky you came.
Where is your thoracic duct ?"
206
MISS HAMMER'S LOVERS.
"I have it with me; I always carry it," observed
Knox, without the faintest glimmer of a smile.
" Oh, I know ; but what I want to ascertain is, where
you carry it ?"
" Why, here? said Knox, pointing to his chest. "It
extends from here to here, and—''
" That's enough ! that's all that is necessary. Hang
it, old fellow, do you know I believe something is the
matter with my thoracic duct! I never dreamed of such
a thing until this morning; in fact, I hardly think I knew
I had a machine of that name inside of me ; but I got
to reading about it and its diseases in this medical book,
here, and every time a new symptom was described I
thought I could detect it."
"Your imagination is too active," said Knox.
" I don't know, may be it is. I really have an idea
that it's not wholesome for me to read medical works.
When I look over an article on functional derangement of
the liver, it seems to describe my liver with painful exact¬
ness ; when I read up on the diseases of the heart, I feel
as if mine might collapse at any moment; if I study up
in certain bones, they begin at once to ache ; if I read
about scarlet-fever, or yellow-fever, or cerebro-spinal-
meningitis, I get a notion that I am a victim of each
malady in turn, and that if I don't put myself under
treatment at once I am a goner."
" That is not an uncommon experience," said Knox,
laughing. " But why do you read such books ? "
" Well, you see, Irene, she has a queer kind of fond¬
ness for them; has a taste for medical science, I really
believe; and I bought a lot of authorities to please her.
MISS HAMMER'S LOVERS.
207
She can tell you more about bones and membranes and
thoracic ducts in a minute than I could learn in a week."
" I am glad she shows some partiality for the medical
profession," said Knox. "The fact makes me a little
more hopeful."
" Hopeful of what ?"
" Why, you see, Mr. Hammer, I called this morning
to tell you that I have a notion to marry Irene, if I can
get your consent."
" But, has she consented ?"
" Well, not exactly ; but it amounts to the same thing.
She said, when I asked her, that she wouldn't tell me that
she loved me better than any one else in the world, but
she would admit that she was extremely partial to doc¬
tors ; and you know that I am the only physician around
here."
" Humph I" said Mr. Hammer rubbing his chin. " I'm
not so sure about that. How about Sandoval ? He has
been coming here to see Irene a good deal lately."
"You don't class him among respectable physicians, I
hope?" demanded Knox. "He is only a wretched little
quack."
" I don't know ; I don't notice that he kills any more
patients than you do."
It was a quarrel in which a prudent man like Mr.
Hammer did not care to take a decided part. Tecumseh
Knox, of Ohio, while studying medicine in Philadelphia,
formed a close friendship with a student from Nicaragua
with the unreasonable name of Diego Mendoza y Herrara
De Leon Gomez Maria Sandoval; and when the +wo
graduated, Knox, having no prospect of finding § <^«tricv
ao8 MISS HAMMER >S LOVERS.
unequipped with a physician which he could devastate
while learning the practical part of his profession, was
easily persuaded by his friend Sandoval, whom he ad¬
dressed continually as " Sandy," that an attempt to
interfere with the death-rate of Nicaragua might afford
profitable employment to more than one enterprising man,
and so he accompanied Sandoval to the home of the latter
in that State.
The two remained upon the best of terms for several
years, until a day came when Sandoval announced him¬
self a convert to the principles of homoeopathy, and
began to attack the diseases of his patients with infini¬
tesimal doses. Then Tecumseh Knox swore eternal
hatred to him; for the human heart knows no animosity
so bitter as that with which the allopath regards the
homoeopath. And when Sandoval subsequently entered
political life, Knox at once joined the party that was in
opposition to the Sandoval party, and the two organiza¬
tions went at each other, tooth and claw, with a new fury
born of the antagonistic medical theories infused into
them.
Sandoval, just now, happened to be President of the
Republic. It occurred to him one night that the neigh¬
bourhood was so healthy and the collection of bills so
difficult, that there might be more profit in governing the
Republic: so he had a private interview with General
Flynn, Commander-in-Chief of the army, and his argu¬
ments, for some reason, were so powerful with the General,
that Sandoval was able to issue a fiery pronunciamento,
and to summon the army to his assistance while he went
around and " cleaned out" the administration,
MISS HAMMER'S LOVERS.
209
" He is nothing but a mean little quack," said Knox,
to Mr. Hammer. " Don't call that creature a physician,
I beg of you ! "
"Well, anyhow, I think he has a hankering after
Irene, and if she chooses to regard him as orthodox in
his views, I don't see exactly what we are going to do
about it. Besides, he is a President, you know. That
counts for something."
" If Irene thinks so I'll run him out before morning !
I can scare up a revolution in this Republic in twenty
minutes at any time," said Knox. " President! Why,
I'll go round and evacuate the office with the toe of my
boot if Irene wants political glory."
" All right," said Mr. Hammer, " I don't care anything
about it myself. Irene must settle it. I'll give my bless¬
ing to whichever one of you she chooses to take. I'd
rather have you, because you're an American; but
Sandy's not a bad fellow for a son-in-law. He will suit
me if he will suit Irene."
" That's enough," said Knox. " That is all I can ask.
You say that Irene is mine if she will take me. I'll soon
settle that matter. And now I'll say good morning."
As Dr. Knox withdrew, Miss Appleby came out upon
the porch and sat down in one of the chairs.
"That man, Sarah," said Mr. Hammer, "wants to
marry Irene."
" He does, does he ? Well, I trust she won't have
him ! You didn't encourage him, I hope ?"
" No ; I encourage nobody. Irene shall marry accord¬
ing to her own taste. So far as I am concerned my plan
is to keep on good terms with everybody. Sandoval is
14
aio
MISS HAMMER "S LOVERS.
in power to-day, and he throws off my taxes because he
wants my influence. To-morrow Knox may be in his
place, and what I want is to get Knox into such a frame
of mind that he will keep my taxes off. I'm for the
government, no matter who heads it. When the govern¬
ment refuses to help me, I shall get up a little private revo¬
lution of my own, and help myself to the government."
" I hope Irene will never marry a doctor," said Miss
Appleby. " I hate doctors."
"They are useful sometimes, Sarah."
"Yes, useful to undertakers and tombstone people.
How does a doctor know what's the matter with a man,
when he can't see into him? If he could take a lantern,
and crawl down and explore him, he might do some good."
" Sometimes they make cures, though."
"How often? There was Mrs. Martinez; she was
taken with chills ; they called in a doctor. Where is Mrs.
Martinez now ? I don't know where she is, but she isn't
where she ought to be. There was Diaz's coloured man;
he was a little bilious. The doctor was sent for, and
now he is an angel—that is, of course, if there are
coloured angels. And Mrs. Alvarado ; look how she
went! Right healthy and well, excepting a pain in her
shoulder. The doctor dosed her, and off she went into a
better world ; I hope she did anyhow."
"And Lerdo's Jim, too."
"Yes, Lerdo's Jim; took a few pills, and the next
thing he knew he was flitting into the hereafter. Been
alive now, if the doctors had let him alone. And Mr.
Velasquez, and Mr. Alvarado, and Miss Mendez, and the
two Escobedo girls, and old Mrs. Gadara—what's become
MISS HAMMER'S LO VERS.
211
of all of them, I want to know? Why, they've been
hustled into the tomb by doctors ! That's where they are.
Don't tell me !"
" Irene doesn't seem to dislike them as much as you do.
I think she is rather fond of studying medicine herself."
" t know she is ; and, Joshua, you take my advice, and
repress the propensity ! This morning she put her arms
around my neck, and pretended to be affectionate ; but
I was suspicious, and when I pressed her, she confessed
that she was examining my jugular vein! She said she
wished she could bleed me! Wished she could bleed her
aunt! I tell you, Joshua, it is simply murderous !"
" She n£ver wanted to bleed me."
"Nb; hut, Joshua, I strongly suspect that she has
tflbte than bhce mixed mild doses of medicine with your
tea so as to try the effect."
" Maybe that is what is the matter with my thoracic
duct."
" I have no doubt of it! Irene means well, but she is
far too enthusiastic. Last Tuesday she gave the cook
some medicine for spasms that sent the girl bounding
about the kitchen floor like a rubber ball. I had to sit
down on her to stop her. Irene stood calmly by, and
said it was 'very interesting.' I'm afraid she'll poison
us all some day—accidentally, of course ; but it will be no
comfort to me, when I'm dead, to know that Irene didn't
mean any harm."
The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of
Irene with a person in military dress, whom she intro¬
duced to her aunt, and whom her father welcomed, as
General Flynn.
" tient the girl bounding about like a rubber ball."—Page 211.
MISS HAMMER'S LOVERS.
General Terence Flynn was Commander-in-Chief of
the army of the Republic. He was small in stature, and
not remarkably good looking. His hair was sandy and
rather thin ; and an accident of some kind had broken
the bridge of his nose, and given that feature a peculiar
twitch to the left, so that if the General had made up his
mind to " follow his nose " through life, he would have
been turning corners perpetually.
General Flynn was the son of an Irishman who came
to America twenty years before the period of this narra¬
tive, and who had engaged in the business of mixing
mortar with a hoe. Terence was sent to a public school,
and after finishing his education he made an ineffectual
attempt to study law. Then he shipped as a sailor before
the mast, and when he had knocked about the world for a
few years, he sailed one day into a Central American port
as first mate of a schooner. Having quarrelled with the
captain, he resigned his position and went to Nicaragua,
where, in a year or two, he mastered the language, and
plunged into the peculiar politics of the country with
hearty enthusiasm.
One of the Presidents, whom he had helped into office,
gave him command of the army. As the commander of
the army, usually, was the only man in the country of
whom the rulers were afraid, and as General Flynn was
just the kind of a person to recognize a particularly good
thing when he had it, he proposed to himself to retain the
position during the remainder of his life.
" I met the General a moment ago," said Irene, as
the party sat down, " and he was so kind as to offer to
accompany me home."
214
MISS HAMMER 'S LOVERS.
" And no soldier ever performed more agreeable escort
service," said the General, gallantly.
"The General was good enough," said Irene, "to
give me some information that I wanted, and I asked him
to come in and finish the conversation."
" What she wanted," said the General to Mr. Hammer,
" was to know if, during my experience upon the battle¬
field, I ever witnessed a compound fracture of the tibia."
" Did you ? " asked Miss Appleby.
" No, ma'am. I have fought thirty-four battles in this
Republic, but in the whole of them only eight men have
been wounded, and one man killed."
" What killed him ?"
" He was bitten by a double-nosed pointer belonging
to the enemy, and the bite mortified. The Nicaraguan
soldier, as a rule, has an overpowering aversion to getting
hurt. He hates a war with real bullets."
" But you were wounded yourself, General," said Irene.
" So I was."
" How ?" inquired Miss Appleby.
" I accidentally kicked over a loaded musket at the
barracks, and shot myself'in the leg. The ball is in there
yet," said General Flynn, touching his calf.
" And the General says I may probe for it, some time,"
said Irene.
'' Irene !" shrieked her aunt, " I am surprised at you !
Probe for a ball in General Flynn's leg? I never heard
of such a thing ! "
" Indeed, ma'am ; and if the young lady is fond of sur¬
gery, why shouldn't she? It'll be a work of humanity.
I've given her permission to try a new kind of remedy for
MISS HAMMER'S LOVERS.
"5
fever upon the army. The whole military force of the
Republic is at her service, if she wants to practise for
doctoring."
" Isn't it splendid!" said Irene. "Oh, you are too
kind, General."
" I'm afraid the mortality rate will be larger than in
time of war," said Mr. Hammer, smiling.
" Oh, papa!" exclaimed Irene ; " you know you're not
in earnest."
"And how is the army, General ?" asked Mr. Hammer.
"Well, from fair to middling, sir, as well as I can make
out. It's a little hard to keep the exact run of things.
You see, there are fifteen thousand men on the rolls, but
we can't scare up more than one hundred and thirty-
five for active duty, and twenty-two of them are brigadier-
generals."
" Don't they get jealous of each other ?" inquired
Aunt Appleby.
" Yes, in time of peace ; but when there's war I have
no trouble. In the fight of last December three briga¬
diers stayed at home because they had notes to meet.
General Curculio backed out because it looked like rain,
a<nd he had lent his umbrella; and General De Campo
wrote to say that he would be unable to come because his
mother-in-law had lumbago."
"You won, though, I believe ?" said Irene.
" Yes," said the General, with a proud smile. " I put
a guard around the door of the executive mansion. Then
I broke in a window with a brick, and when the President
appeared, I told him to get out. He said he would as
soon as he could get his boots on. The rascal! he wanted
216 MISS HAMMER 'S LO VERS.
time to bag the unexpended balance of the executive ap¬
propriation ! I went in and caught him at it, and marched
him down stairs by the collar."
" He must have been a hero," said Miss Appleby.
" But when we put Sandoval in, I resorted to strategy.
The army, you know, had shrunk up so much, and the
weather was so hot, that the men hated to go into battle;
and I sent word to the President that there was a cock¬
fight in the Plaza with a Yucatan rooster on which he had
a bet. He come right out, of course, and when he got
back I had Sandoval in office, with eighteen men guarding
him with loaded muskets. A more disgusted man than
the ex-President you never saw in the whole course of
your life!"
" I have an idea Sandoval won't stay in long," said Mr.
Hammer.
" Oh, I don't know. I haven't quite made up my mind.
It's a mere question now of homoeopathy or allopathy.
Knox, you know, belongs to the Opposition, and they call
Sandoval's crowd ' The Pilule Party ;' while Sandoval
always alludes to them as the ' Phlebotomists.' Just at
this moment I'm for the Pilules, but I might be made to
see that the Phlebotomists have right on their side. I
think the army is rather more partial to quinine and
calomel than it is to medicine that the men can't feel
going right to the spot. I'd like to discuss the subject
with you, Miss Irene."
" Oh, do ! I'll show you all the authorities."
" Irene ! you shock me," said her aunt.
" May I, pa ?" asked Irene.
" I see no harm in it," said Mr. Hammer. "I'll get
MISS HAMMER'S LO VERS. 217
you, at the same time, to draw out a map of my thoracic
duct. I'd like to see how it looks."
" And the General, pa, has promised to get me a
skeleton, if you will let me have it. Will you, pa ? "
"To scare your aunt with ?"
" Irene Hammer! if you bring a human skeleton into
this house, I will leave at once!" exclaimed Miss Apple¬
by. " As those bones enter one door, I go out the other."
" Oh, well; we can discuss the skeleton after a while.
Suppose now we adjourn to the library," said Mr. Hammer.
" With pleasure," said the General, as he offered Irene
his arm. Then Miss Appleby joined her brother-in-law,
and the whole party entered the house.
II.
The Pilule party, a few weeks later, were still in power,
General Flynn having neglected to give to the arguments
of the Phlebotomists against the homoeopathic theories
that weight which Knox felt really belonged to them.
In the meantime, President Sandoval, when he could
spare time from the duties of state, became a more atten¬
tive visitor at the house of Mr. Hammer. He was a man
of very agreeable manners, and rather a favourite with
Mr. Hammer and Irene, and appreciation of this fact by
Ur. Knox filled the latter gentleman with raging jealousy.
Knox, in fact, began to conceit that Irene treated him with
a certain degree of coldness, and he was keenly sensible of
the fact that to encounter any serious obstacle in that
quarter after asking Irene's hand of her father, would be
218 MISS HAMMER'S LOVERS.
to make him appear ridiculous in the eyes of the old gen¬
tleman. Knox determined to try to bring matters to a
crisis.
It was a lovely evening. Sandoval sat with Irene
upon the porch, behind a mass of fragrant clinging vines,
while the round moon rose slowly over the distant hills
and dimmed with its misty light the radiance of the
myriad fire-flies that flitted, sparkling, amid the shrub¬
bery. The two were alone. Mr. Hammer was writing
in the library, and Miss Appleby had gone to bed with
rheumatism in her shoulder-blade. Sandoval was speak¬
ing softly to Irene.
" Why, look at the matter, Miss Hammer! Examine it
for yourself! What do you do when your nose is frozen ?"
" It never is frozen in this climate."
" But suppose it should be ; would you put it in hot
water ?"
" Not too hot."
"No ; you would apply snow to it ; you would bury
it in ice."
" Would that cure it?"
"Yes ; for like cures like. And so if your toes were
frosted. Excuse me for speaking of your toes. Say my
toes. If my toes were frosted, would I hold them to the
fire ?"
" I don't know. Would you?"
" Of course not; I should put them in cold water ; the
colder the better."
" Barefooted, do you mean ?"
" Barefooted. That is the homoeopathic principle. Cold
for cold, heat for heat."
MISS HAMMER 'S LOVERS.
" Don't you ever allow mustard plasters ? I can never
approve a school of medicine that rejects mustard
plasters."
" In some cases, of course. Where the malady is of a
mustard character, we cure with mustard. N ow, for in¬
stance, what does arnica do when taken internally ?"
" Makes you sick ? "
'' No ; it produces bruises upon the skin. That is why
we use it to cure bruises."
" I will put some in Aunt Appleby's tea to-morrow
morning, to see if it will," said Irene.
" And so if you are warm, and wish to become cool, do
you take a cold bath ? That will make you warm. You
take a hot bath, and you at once feel cool. If you have
a fever, you make hot applications to the body. The
principle runs all through the whole list of diseases."
" How interesting!" exclaimed Irene.
"I shall be glad to unfold the whole homoeopathic
scheme to you at any time. You take an odd interest in
such things."
" I wish I could study medicine."
" Not for the purpose of practising, I hope."
" I don't know."
"You know how much we professional men abhor
women doctors. But we will not discuss that. Why not
marry a physician ?"
" That would be my preference."
" It would! You don't know how happy I am to hear
you say that! Homoeopathic or allopathic?"
" That would depend, of course, on circumstances.
Your plan with frozen noses strikes me very favourably."
220 MISS IIAMMER>S L0 VERS.
" Let me hope that you will be favourably impressed,
also, with the author of the suggestion. In fact, Irene, I
love you ! Will you be my wife ? "
" Really, Signor Sandoval, I—I have hardly considered
the—the—"
" Remember! I do not ask you to marry a mere phy¬
sician. My wife will be honoured as the first lady of the
Republic, for I am the President; and—"
While he was speaking, a man came up on the porch,
and said—
"Is Doctor Sandoval here ? "
" Yes; here I am. What's the matter ?"
" Only a little trouble up here at the House."
" A disturbance ?"
" Yes, a kind of one."
" I must go and see what the difficulty is."
" Oh no, you needn't," said the messenger, " it's all
over."
" How do you mean ?"
" Knox is President!"
" Knox ? Tecumseh Knox ?"
" Yes."
" Where's General Flynn ? Order him to call out the
troops at once This is serious, Miss Irene."
"He has called them out!"
" Well?"
" And they came."
"Well?"
" And General Flynn and the army have declared for
Knox and the Phlebotomists ! "
" The perjured villain!" shrieked Sandoval.
MISS HAMMER >S LOVERS.
221
"Yes, sir. They sent to the executive mansion, and
asked if you were home; and when the coloured girl said
you weren't, they dashed in, set your trunks and bed¬
steads in the street, and Knox moved in. He has turned
out the Cabinet, confiscated all the money in the Treasury,
made General Flynn Knight of the Order of San Salvador
and the Blue Elephant, and he's thinking about declaring
war with Costa Rica, so as to give the brigadier-generals
a chance to sack a couple of towns and go in for glory !
It's the biggest thing in the way of a revolution that
this Republic has struck yet!"
" Well, well," said Sandoval, sadly, turning to Irene,
"I don't see how this government is ever going to make
its influence felt in the affairs of Europe if things go on
in this manner. It's not the right way to conduct a free
republic, that's certain! "
"It has the advantage of being original," said Irene.
"Yes, but it's not sufficiently impressive! Why, those
bloated old despots across there in Europe roll over and
laugh when they hear about such proceedings. It seems
to me that what we want here is greater respect for the
dignity of the Presidential office."
" Pa will be surprised when he hears about it," ob¬
served Irene.
" Why, if they had only given me a little time ! But
to run a man out while he is away calling on a friend!
It's not the fair thing. I'd just written to the President
of Venezuela to come up and pay me a state visit, too!
He'll come and find Knox in office! It is a little too mor¬
tifying ! But you," said Sandoval, drawing close to Irene,
" you will love me still, won't you ? "
222
MISS HAMMER'S LOVERS.
" Still ! Love you still! I don't think I understand
you exactly."
" I thought you intended rather to intimate that you
would reciprocate my feelings."
"You misunderstood me. I did not mean to convey
such an impression. To tell the truth, Signor, pa wants
to keep in as much as possible with the administration,
and my duty is to help him."
" This is heartrending ! Misfortune seems to heap
itself upon me !"
" And, at any rate, I have long had an impression that
if I married at all, I should choose a man who had a tre¬
pan, or consumption, or something, so that I could study
his case continually."
" I have a touch of gout, now and then, if that will be
of any use to you."
" I'd rather not decide so important a matter finally
just now."
" Oh, very well. I'll call again, if you will permit me.
Perhaps," said Sandoval, significantly, as he rose to go,
"when I come again I will be President, and have the
Phlebotomists under my feet! "
When Mr. Hammer came down to breakfast in the
morning, he called his servant and asked,
"Jose, who is President this morning? "
" Dr. Knox, sir; unless they had another revolution
after midnight."
"Knox, eh? Well, Jose, just run into the city, and
inquire how things stand. And, Jose, find out the name
of the Secretary of the Treasury, and come back as
quickly as you can. I want," said Mr. Hammer t.o
MISS HAMMER'S LOVERS.
223
Irene, "to address a note to him before he is turned
out."
" For my part," said Miss Appleby, " I consider such
governments ridiculous. But what can you expect from
a lot of doctors ? "
"So Flynn has gone over to the Phlebotomists, has
he ? I expected that," said Mr. Hammer.
" They drugged him, I reckon," remarked Miss
Appleby.
" Dr. Sandoval was very indignant at his conduct,"
said Irene. " But I have no doubt General Flynn acted
in accordance with the dictates of his conscience."
" General Flynn's conscientiousness, darling," said Mr.
Hammer, "is like Sandoval's doses—microscopic !"
" He hasn't enough to stick a pin in, I'll guarantee,"
observed Miss Appleby.
" General Flynn wishes to see you, sir," said a servant,
entering the room.
"Ah! he is here, is he!" remarked Mr. Hammer.
" I'll go to him at once."
"You heard about the revolution, of course," remarked
the General, as he took a chair.
" Oh yes ! Sandoval is gone, is he ?"
"Yes; you see there was no help for it. The Pilule
theories are not popular in the army. Sandoval, like all
these homoeopathists, would persist in trying experi¬
ments ; he would use the troops for medicinal purposes."
"How?"
"Why, for instance, on Tuesday he made the twenty-
two brigadier-generals take ipecac., to see if it would really
produce asthma, and it did. The result was horrible.
224
MISS HAMMER'S LOVERS.
For an entire day there were twenty-two brigadier-gene¬
rals meandering about town gasping for breath. They
didn't like it; they said that they loved their country, but
hanged if they were going to make themselves short-
winded for her benefit."
" They got over it ?"
" Certainly; took more ipecac. But Sandoval was not
satisfied with that. He compelled thirty-four colonels to
take sulphur, to prove that sulphur produces eruptions as
well as cures them. Why, you never saw anything so dis¬
graceful ! The whole batch of them broke out in a kind
of scarlet rash, and Colonel Grambo's wife packed up and
went home to her father's, because she was afraid he'd
give the children small-pox. I tell you, sir, the soldiers
of this Republic are not going to stand too much of that
kind of thing."
" I should think not."
" So we pronounced for Knox, and ran Sandoval out.
And Knox has issued a general order to me to fly-blister
the entire force and to cup and bleed every man, from the
commander down, so's to get their systems straight
again, after Sandoval's foolishness. The men '11 not be
worth a cent for a fight if we keep on putting doctors at
the head of the government."
" I'm afraid not," said Mr. Hammer.
" What I came to see you about," said the General,
" was to ask you to accompany me to-day to a review.
Knox is going to inspect the army. Will you come ? "
" I think I will."
" And I should like you to bring Miss Irene, also."
" I will ask her, if you wish it."
MISS HAMMER 'S LOVERS.
" By the way, Mr. Hammer, now we are speaking of
her, do you know I have had serious thoughts of proposing
myself in marriage to your daughter ? Would I have your
consent, if the proposition should prove agreeable to
her."
" Well," said Mr. Hammer, " the fact is I'd rather you
would ask her first. Knox said about the same thing to
me when he was here a few weeks ago. I'd prefer to
have Irene make her own choice."
" Knox ! You don't mean to say Knox pretends to be
in love with Miss Hammer ? "
" That is what he said."
"He did, did he? If I had known that last night
there would have been no revolution. That settles him!
I'm for the Pilules now, ipecac., or no ipecac. Knox
marry her ! Well, that is good I"
" But the review will be held, will it ?"
"Oh, certainly! Duty is duty, no matter who is
President."
" We will be there, then. At what time ? "
" Half-past eleven, in the Plaza," and General Flynn
withdrew, the-mortal enemy of the Phlebotomists.
When Mr. Hammer drove into the Plaza, with Irene
and her aunt in his carriage, the army was drawn up in a
line. A brass band, in which bass drum and cymbals
appeared to predominate, stood at the left playing polkas
and other dance music with such energy, that the military
forces of the Republic were unable to keep their legs still.
Upon the staff of the flag was perched a huge green
parrot, the national bird; and it was expressing its
©pinion of the music in the wickedest objurgations that
i5
226 MISS HAMMER >S LOVERS.
the colour-sergeant, who had taught it, could discover in
the Spanish language.
The army mustered one hundred and. ninety-three
men, the attendance being larger than usual because of
the existence of a distinct understanding that there was to
be no fighting. The arms were of various patterns, from
the best modern rifles to old smooth-bore muskets, which
kicked with such vehemence that the marksman always
retained the impression that he was fired in one direction
further than the bullet was in the other. There was one
piece of artillery; but it had been loaded with wet
powder during a revolutionary movement several years
before, and as the powder had caked and hardened in
drying, it could not be dug out, and the chief of artillery
was afraid to try to touch it off with a match. So the
gun was used to give dignity to the appearance of things
rather than for offensive purposes.
All the brigadier-generals and colonels were present,
except General De Campo, whose mother-in-law had cut
the buttons from his uniform and locked up the pins, to
punish him for losing money upon a horse-race; and
Colonel Grambo, who had gone to bring his wife home,
and to take medical advice about the eruption upon his
face.
General Flynn pranced about upon a superb charger,
which was the envy of the whole army. He wore a
uniform which the Duke of Wellington would have been
ashamed to assume after the battle of Waterloo. He
was fairly covered with spangles and gold lace, and the
orders on his breast were as thick as the scales upon a
herring.
MISS HAMMER >S LOVERS. 227
The General took his place by the side of the President,
but it was observed that he treated Knox with marked
coolness.
Sandoval sat in a neighbouring window, watching the
proceedings and gritting his teeth.
The General first exercised the troops in the manual
of arms. The result of each order was a wobbling uncer¬
tainty in the movements of the muskets, and the mani¬
festation in each man of a disposition to wait until he saw
what his neighbour intended to do. But the General
seemed satisfied ; he was acquainted with his army ; and
when the manual exercises were finished, the evolutions
began. They were so surprising that Mr. Hammer
laughed. Nobody in the army seemed to have the most
distant idea what he was about, and the densest ignorance
was displayed by the twenty-one brigadier-generals,
whose manoeuvres were chiefly directed by a desire to
keep themselves well to the front, where the grandeur of
their clothing and the ferocity of their demeanour would
produce the strongest impression upon the spectators.
While the movements were proceeding, General Flynn
whispered to an orderly, and a few moments later San¬
doval disappeared suddenly from his window.
Finally, General Flynn saluted Knox, and asked him
if he should end the review. Knox said he should like,
first, to make a speech to the troops. He rode to the
front, and said :—
" Soldiers ! You have the thanks of your government
for the splendour and matchless precision of your
manoeuvres to-day. With such an army the liberties
of the people are safe from the machinations of despot^
" Knox said he would like to make a speech."—Page 22 j.
MISS HAMMER'S LOVERS.
229
and the soil of your country from the intrusion of a
foreign foe. It was to save you from the traitors who
were trying to destroy you with insidious poisons that I
assumed the Executive Chair. I grasped the reins of
power that fell from hands which were driving us to
destruction. Your valour in the past is the best surety
of your fidelity in the future. Let us all renew our vows
to our common country, and resolve that the last drop of
our blood shall be shed to save her from foreign or
domestic treason ! Soldiers! I salute you! Farewell!"
The President wheeled about, and as General Flynn
dismissed the forces, he rode swiftly to the Executive
mansion, the General behind him.
As Knox entered, he was startled to see Sandoval
sitting in the President's chair, surrounded by his former
cabinet officers.
" What are you doing here, sir ? What do you
mean ?" he demanded fiercely. " Leave this place at
once, or I will put you under arrest ! "
Sandoval smiled grimly, and said,
" I don't think you grasp the situation exactly. Why,
my gracious, man, you don't imagine that you're the Pre¬
sident ! Don't you know that there has been another
revolution ?"
"General Flynn," said Knox, sternly, "have that man
arrested, and locked up, upon a charge of high treason!
I will make out the necessary papers at once."
" It can't be done !" responded the General.
" It can't be done ? Why not ?" asked Knox, turning
white and edging toward the door.
" Why, because I have just pronounced for him."
230
MISS HAMMER'S LOVERS.
" And the army ? I will appeal to the troops."
" Oh, you needn't mind. That order about fly-blisters
fixed them. The brigadier-generals said they'd prefer
asthma to blisters."
Knox reflected in silence upon the situation.
"It's of no use, Knox," said the General. " The
Pilules are in possession. You might as well pack up
your traps and quit! You know well enough that San¬
doval's theories are sound. You vaccinate for small-pox,
don't you ? And you thaw out a frost-bite with ice, don't
you ? I've seen you do it myself. So move on now!
Go ; or I'll be obliged to call in the guard."
As Knox sullenly withdrew, Sandoval said to his
Secretary of the Treasury—
" Collect a tax of two per cent., at once, on all the real
and personal property in the Republic. General Flynn
will assist you. And try to negotiate another loan of
50,000 dollars up at the banker's. We can't run this
government without money; and, besides, I'm entirely
out of cigars. General, give the army leave to forage in
all the Phlebotomists' hen-roosts and banana-patches;
and give the men new outfits from any occupied clothes'-
line that you come across ! Our brave defenders must not
suffer if there's not a shirt left to the civilians of the
Republic !"
III.
Ex-President Knox thought perhaps he might find
at the Hammer mansion consolation for some of his
woes. When he called he discovered that the family
MISS HAMMER'S LOVERS.
231
had not yet heard of his misfortunes. Mr. Hammer
said—
" Knox, I congratulate you upon your accession to the
Presidency! It is a little rough for Sandy; but, perhaps,
his turn will come again, some time or other."
" It has already come, sir," remarked Knox.
" What ! another revolution ? To-day ?"
"Yes, that red-headed little rascal, Flynn, betrayed
me ! Mr. Hammer, hanged if I believe General Flynn
has that high-minded kind of patriotic devotion that a
soldier ought to have. Epaminondas didn't tear out the
government two or three times a month; and if Lord
Napier ever dispersed the British Cabinet because they
wouldn't let him fly-blister the army, the information has
been suppressed. I am not very particular, but Flynn
seems to me to lack some of the greatest characteristics
of a hero."
" That thought occurred to me also," said Miss Ap¬
pleby,"with a slightly scornful smile.
" Why don't you and Sandy take day and day about ? "
asked Mr. Hammer. " You be President on Monday,
and let him act on Tuesday."
"That would be against the constitution/' replied
Knox. " I have too much respect for that sacred instru¬
ment to violate it."
" I am glad to hear you say that. I don't think any¬
body would have noticed the fact if you hadn't mentioned
it," said Miss Appleby.
" Ah! here is Miss Irene," exclaimed Knox, as that
lady entered. " Good morning ! Miss Irene, may I have
a few moments' conversation with you ?"
232
MISS HAMMER'S LOVERS.
" With pleasure."
" Shall we stroll upon the porch, if your father and
aunt will permit us ?"
Irene acquiesced, and she left the room with Knox.
When Knox had explained to her the political situation,
he said —
" But, Miss Hammer, I should not regret the loss of
power and office if I could obtain something else that I
want."
" What is that ?"
" Your—your—may I say it ? your love!"
" Oh, doctor ! I can hardly promise you that. I need
not attempt to go into an explanation; but I may
mention that, among other things, I cannot be per¬
fectly sympathetic with you in medical matters.
What is your remedy for a frozen nose, for in¬
stance ?"
" Why—in fact—indeed, Miss Hammer, I cannot see
what relation exists between my affection for you and my
theory about frozen noses."
" Dr. Sandoval says he would put it in ice. Where
would you put it I1 in the fire ?"
''Ah! Sandoval has been attempting to delude you
with his vile heresies, has he ? "
"Not so bad as that, I hope; but like cures like,
doesn't it ?"
" If you burned your arm, would you hold a lighted
candle to the wound to cure it ?"
" I don't know."
"If you should be half-drowned would you anchor
yourself in the river to recover from the shock ? If you
MISS HAMMER'S LOVERS. 233
stuck yourself with a pin would you swallow another to
make yourself well ?"
" I don't think I would."
" Certainly you wouldn't! But that's homoeopathy!
Suppose your pa should punch out one of his eyes, would
you punch out the other as a remedy ? I tell you, Miss
Hammer, that kind of foolishness is going to carry this
country to destruction, if we are not mighty careful."
"Why, here's General Flynn !'' exclaimed Irene, as
that valiant warrior galloped up, and dismounted. As
she rose to welcome him, Knox did not seem overpowered
with joy. In fact, he sat still, and looked glum.
" Good morning, Miss Hammer ! Halloa, Knox, you
here ?" said the General, in a cheery way. " Don't be
so downhearted, old man, maybe your turn'll come next."
" The doctor," said Irene, with an intent to relieve the
embarrassment of the situation, " has just been pointing
out the fallacies of the homoeopathic theories."
" I'm beginning to see them myself," said the General.
"You are ?" exclaimed Knox, with surprise.
" Doctor Sandoval almost convinced me last night that
they were true," said Irene.
" Yes, I heard that he was here last night," said the
General, significantly. " He told me what occurred. If
I had known that he had certain aspirations, that I
needn't mention, I should never have pronounced against
Knox here. Told me that he loved her," said the General,
in a whisper to Knox.
" I had no idea he would be made President so soon,"
said Irene.
"Well, he won't hold office long, I think," said the
234 MISS HAMMER'S LOVERS.
General, winking at Knox. " I say, Knox, do you know
what he did, almost the first thing after he was sworn in ?"
"No ; what?''
"Actually ordered me to issue rations of cinchona
bark, to see if it would give the army chills ! General
Tejada says that Nero, in his worst days, never gave his
brigadier-generals chills ; and, for his part, he don't think
that's the right- way to go about saving the country."
" Might as well close out the whole sacred heritage of
the fathers to some efficient despot at once," remarked
Knox.
" Of course, and so I've pretty much made up my mind
to pronounce again for you. S'pose you run up and see
General Tejada, and arrange the details with him? Pro¬
mise that you'll make him a duke or something, and that
you'll guarantee him from fatty degeneration of the heart
for a term of years, and he'll lay down his life for you."
Dr. Knox seemed to like the idea, for he arose, and
bidding good-bye to Irene and the General, he mounted
his horse, and disappeared down the road.
" I'm glad he's out of the way," said the General; "I
merely wanted to get rid of him."
" Are you really going to pronounce for him ?" asKed
Irene.
" I think I shall; temporarily, at any rate, until I can
look around for a better man. The army is getting dis¬
gusted with these medical Presidents."
" But you don't object to medical people, General,
I am sure ? "
" Not when they are as lovely as you are."
" Oh, General!''
MISS HAMMER'S LOVERS.
235
" Yes, I am in earnest, Miss Irene. I fairly worship
the ground you tread upon. Won't you give me a little
love in return ? "
" Ah, General, you are asking too much. I have almost
vowed not to marry any man who was not sufficiently
infirm to be an interesting subject for scientific study."
" Then I'm the happy man. Look at my nose ! How
charming it would be, if we were married, for you to
exercise your skill in making it straight again! You
shall try, Irene. Give me your love, and you may. put
that feature in splints for a month at a time."
" It would be interesting," said Irene, thoughtfully.
"The lateral cartilages are only slightly twisted. Pos¬
sibly I could pull them around with a string tied to your
nostril and your right ear."
" Splendid!"
" But you would present a peculiar appearance upon
parade."
" Who cares ? "
" I do not suppose that the osseous walls of your nose
are affected in any way."
" I know they're not," said the General, with emphasis.
" It is a very fascinating study—the nose," said Irene.
" Mine?"
" Any one. Thousands of people are actually in ig¬
norance that they smell with their olfactory peduncle."
" Hundreds of thousands of them," exclaimed the
General. " I didn't even know it myself."
"And Aunt Appleby said she wouldn't believe me,
because I told her that she couldn't wink without a
sphincter muscle. She said she considered me insane."
236
MISS HAMMER'S LOVERS.
" How unreasonable 1 Nothing would induce me to
wink without one."
"Why, a person can't even kiss without a sphincter."
" Indeed?"
" I know it is so."
"May I try if I can ?" asked the General.
" Oh, General, it is too bad for you to make light of
such a subject!"
The General seized her hand and kissed that. She
permitted it to remain in his grasp. " I didn't notice
whether a—a—what do you call it ?—a sphincter helped
me then or not. Let me try again !"
Irene smiled sweetly as the General repeated the
operation. When he tried it a third time she moved her
hand suddenly away, and the General's nose struck the
back of the chair with some violence. When he lifted his
head there were tears in his eyes.
" Pardon me," cried Irene. " Did you hurt yourself?"
" Oh, not much."
" I see that the blow affected your lachrymal glands.
They are close to the nose."
"May I take your hand again ?" asked the General,
clasping it without waiting for permission.
" The hand ! " exclaimed Irene. " How wonderful it
is! I have beautiful plaster Paris models of the carpus
and metacarpus up-stairs. I will show them to you some
day."
"It is remarkable how much you know about such
things—really wonderful," said the General. " What is
the bone at the back of the head called ?"
" Why, the occipital bone, of course."
MISS HAMMER'S LOVERS.
237
" And what are the names of the muscles of the arm ? "
"The spiralis and infra-spiralis, among others."
" Well, now, let me show you what I mean. I want
to take a lesson in science. When I put my infra-spiralis
around your waist, so, is it your occipital bone that rests
upon my shoulder-blade in this way ? "
" My back hair, primarily, but the occipital, of course,
afterwards. But, oh, General, suppose pa should come
in and see us ?"
" Let him come ! Who cares ?" exclaimed the
General, boldly. " I think I'll exercise a sphincter again,
and take a kiss."
" General! how can you ?" said Irene, blushing, as he
withdrew his face, after executing the feat.
" Don't call me General; call me Terence," he said,
drawing her closer. "You accept me, don't you? I
know you do, Irene, darling!"
"Terence!" whispered Irene, faintly.
" What, darling ? "
" I can hear your heart beat! "
"It beats only for you, my angel!"
"And it sounds to me out of order ; the ventricular
contraction is not uniform."
"Small matter of wonder for that when it's bursting
for joy."
" You must put yourself under treatment for it. I
will give you some medicine."
"It's your own property, my darling. Do what you
please with it."
" And that wound in your limb? Is the bullet in the
tibia or the fibul/ '"
238
MISS HAMMER'S LOVERS.
" I have not the least idea in the world what those
terms refer to, but you may analyze me until you find it.
You may cut me all up in bits, if you want to."
"Oh, Terence!"
" The sphincter operation is the one that strikes me
most favourably," said the General. " Let me see how
it works again."
"And Gen—Terence, I mean !"
" Well, sweet ?"
" Have you any objection to my studying medicine,
and becoming a real physician ? "
" Not the least bit in the world ! I'll buy you a case
of surgical instruments to-morrow."
" Oh, will you ?"
"With a saw, a carving-knife a foot long, and
lancets, and a gimlet, and everything."
" Splendid ! But, Terence ? "
" What, dearest ? "
" Not a girnlet. Doctors don't use it."
" I thought they did. Anyhow, I'll get you gallons
on gallons of squills, and paregoric by the barrel, and
arsenic and stuff by the ton—enough to physic the
whole of Central America."
" How can I thank you ! "
"And I'll appoint you Surgeon-General of the Forces,
and make old Knox mad enough to commit suicide."
" Poor Dr. Knox! What will he say when he hears
that we are engaged ?"
" I don't care what he says. If he mentions the
matter to me, I'll recommend him to marry your aunt.
He and Sandoval might toss up for her."
MISS HAMMER 'S LO VERS. 239
" Aunt is going away."
" She is ? "
" To Cuba. Her brother lives there. She is going
to stay with him for several months."
" Knox can wait until she comes back."
" She is not partial to doctors."
" I remember your saying so before. Her incredulity
about sphincters is simply astonishing. Let me see, how
was it the sphincter acted ? "
Just as the General was kissing Irene, Miss Appleby
came out upon the porch, followed, a moment later, by
Mr. Hammer.
"Well, upon my word, these are curious kinds of
carryings on! Irene, do you permit gentlemen to salute
you in that manner ?"
"It is all right, madame," said the General, gaily.
" We are engaged. I feel as if I should like to salute
the entire family."
" You may kiss Mr. Hammer, if you want to ; and the
cook."
"Mr. Hammer," said the General, " Irene, here, has
accepted my offer of marriage. I shall be glad to discuss
the matter with you at your convenience."
" I will give you an early opportunity, sir," replied Mr.
Hammer. " But I am afraid this is another revolutionary
movement. Knox and Sandoval will be mad enough to
do anything."
" They are not dangerous, sir ; not a bit dangerous. I
will take care of them! I am sorry, Miss Appleby, to
hear that you are going away. You'll miss the wedding.
I hoped to dance with you."
240 MISS HAMMER 'S LOVERS.
" I don't dance."
" We shall have the army band."
" In that case, I doubt if I should be able to dance if I
knew how."
" And now," said Mr. Hammer, " suppose we adjourn
to dinner. General, you will join us, of course ?"
" Oh, certainly. I feel as if I were mustered in as
one of the family already."
And the party disappeared through the hall door.
Two important events happened on the morrow. Miss
Appleby sailed early in the morning for Cuba. She had a
great dread of sea-sickness. Irene gave her two infallible
preventives, Dr. Knox sent her a third, and Dr. Sandoval
called to leave a fourth. Miss Appleby had still others that
she had seen described in newspapers, and General Flynn
gave her a patent swinging berth, which oscillated with the
vessel, and was warranted to make sea-sickness impossible.
As the steamer sailed away, the friends of the family
waved a last adieu with their handkerchiefs, and Irene
cried so hard that the General was compelled to exert
himself strenuously to console her.
Later in the day, the General called the army out, and
in a short speech informed the troops that the liberties
of the country were in peril, and that upon them devolved
the duty of snatching the government from the hands of
Sandoval and the traitorous Pilules, who were threatening
it with destruction.
There were one hundred and fifteen men in the ranks,
and fourteen brigadier-generals. Forming the force in
battle array, the General gave the order to move upon the
Executive mansion. President Sandoval seemed to have
MISS HAMMER'S LOVERS.
241
heard of the proposed attack. All the doors were shut
and locked, and a dozen men stood at the second-floor
windows with muskets.
As the assailants approached, one of the muskets went
off by accident, and instantly thirty-eight private soldiers,
nine colonels, and six brigadier-generals left the ranks to
go home after something that they had forgotten.
General Flynn rode bravely up to the besieged build¬
ing, with drawn sword in his hand, and demanded that
Sandoval should surrender.
" I'll see you hanged first ! " replied Sandoval.
" I want to avoid bloodshed,'' said the General; and
at the suggestion of bloodshed ten more men and a colonel
remembered that they had other engagements ; " but I'm
going to take this building."
" I don't think you are," replied Sandoval. " I am the
lawful President of this Republic, and I'll die in defence
of my rights."
"What's the use of talking in that way, Sandy?"
remonstrated the General. "You know well enough you've
got to succumb, so you might as well come down at once."
" Somehow, I can't see it in exactly that light."
" If we have a fight it will only break the doors and
splinter up the furniture; and if we have a siege, why,
some of the men'll be sunstruck sitting around out here
in the heat. You ought to surrender out of consideration
for them."
" Knox's medicine will kill 'em quicker than sunstroke,"
replied Sandoval.
" If I get up there, I'll pull your nose, you infinitesimal
doser!" shouted Knox, in a rage.
16
242 MISS HAMMER'S LOVERS.
" You'd better attend to the men who are sore from
head to foot with your poisonous fly-blisters before you
come around lecturing me, you salivating old rascal!"
replied Sandoval.
" Will you surrender or not ?" asked General Flynn.
" Certainly I won't," replied the President.
" Well, then, I'll put you and your traitorous Pilule
Cabinet out in the street in less than half-an-hour! See
if I don't ! "
The General dismounted, and calling the remaining
biigadier-generals around him, he held a council of war.
A few moments later a detachment of troops commanded
by General Tejada marched off down the street. Sandoval
and his brave defenders watched them with mingled curi¬
osity and alarm. After a brief interval the detachment
returned, dragging a fire-engine by a rope. It was
stationed beneath Sandoval's window, and the army,
equipped with buckets, formed a double line to the river.
The meaning of the manoeuvre dawned upon Sandoval
and his adherents, and they closed the windows quickly.
The engine was manned. The army began to fill the
tanks with water. General Tejada seized the nozzle of the
hose and mounted a ladder which Knox had placed
against the wall.
When the heroic General reached the top-round, he
smashed the window with his fist and turned a two-inch
stream of water upon the Executive department of the
Pilule government. The department, followed by San¬
doval, dashed into another room. The General leaped
through the window, dragging the hose with him, and
pursued the fugitives. He drove them from point to point
' He turned a two-inch stream upon the Executive Department."—/^* 242.
244
MISS HAMMER'S LOVERS.
until they flew, pell-mell, down the main staircase. The
General turned the stream upon them with full force, and
they were compelled to choose between seeking refuge in
the street and being drowned. They unlocked the door,
and in an instant they were in the hands of a guard. Knox
entered the doorway to speak to General Tejada, and that
gallant soldier, being full of enthusiasm, did not recognize
him and turned the hose on him with such vehemence that
he was swept off his feet and carried clear out into the street.
The revolution was achieved ! The Phlebotomists had
won the day. Knox was sworn in at once by the chief
justice, who laid down his bucket while he performed the
solemn ceremony, and the Pilule Cabinet, drenched,
draggled, discouraged, and miserable, was sent home in
search of dry clothing.
" It was a big thing, Knox, wasn't it ?" said General
Flynn.
" It was genius, General, that idea about the fire-engine!"
" I am going to write a book about it. Wars are too
sanguinary under existing systems. I shall recommend
the adoption of squirt-guns in place of rifles, and fire-
engines instead of artillery. Give me enough fire-engines
and I'll whip the biggest army in Europe without killing
a man!"
IV.
The Knox Cabinet had been in office about a fortnight
when Mr. Hammer received the following letter from his
brother-in-law, an American merchant doing business in
Havana.
MISS HAMMER'S LOVERS.
245
u Dear Joshua :
" I have sad news to communicate. Sarah reached
this port upon the steamer on the 15th instant. She was
greatly prostrated. She took, before starting upon the
voyage, several preventives of sea-sickness, and these, com¬
bined with the movements of an oscillating berth in which
she slept, made her so ill that her life was despaired of by
the captain. The surgeon told me that he had not seen
so violent a case of sea-sickness during the whole of his
professional career. The result was that when she reached
my house she took to her bed, and expired on the morn¬
ing of the 17th instant. In accordance with her last
wishes her remains will be forwarded to you upon the next
steamer * * * * "
It happened just at this time that Major General
Bussera, the Minister of War of Venezuela, who had been
visiting Cuba upon public business, was stricken by
yellow fever. He died within a few hours, and arrange¬
ments were made for conveying him home with much
pomp and circumstance in the Venezuelan frigate, El
Cuspador, which lay in the harbour of Havana.
By some most unlucky mischance the boxes con¬
taining the remains of Major General Bussera and Miss
Appleby were precisely alike, and as they lay upon the
wharf, near to each other, the Venezuelan sailors of course
carried Miss Appleby away to their ship, while the dead
Major-General was stowed away in the hold of the packet
ship and sent upon a voyage to Nicaragua.
The manifestations of grief upon the frigate El Cus¬
pador, as she turned her prow homeward, were elaborate
and affecting. Minute guns were ordered to be fired
246 MISS HAMMER 'S LOVERS.
during the entire voyage. A guard surrounded the bier,
which was draped with black velvet and silver, and alter¬
nating brass bands played melancholy dirges night and
day. It was estimated that at least two tons of powder
were fired away during the trip, and that several hundred
thousands cubic feet of wind were expended by the bands,
to say nothing of muscular exertion.
Upon the arrival of the remains at Caracas, a state
funeral was prepared, the entire city was draped in mourn¬
ing, the streets were filled with people, the army was put
into line, and the coffin was placed, amid imposing cere¬
monials, in a magnificent tomb built at the public cost.
Foreign undertakers who were present said that it sur¬
passed anything of a funereal nature that they had ever
witnessed. The whole nation was in tears ; the heart of
a great people was wrung with anguish, and the bills
amounted to ten or fifteen thousand dollars.
The mortal part of Major-General Bussera arrived in
good time in Nicaragua, and it was taken to Mr. Ham¬
mer's house.
General Flynnwas present when the box came. He
felt that he had a sacred duty to perform in consoling
Irene in the hour of her affliction. When the covering of
the box was removed Irene exclaimed—
" How much she has changed!" and then Irene began
to cry.
" I wouldn't have known her," said the General.
" It doesn't look a particle like Sarah, that is certain,"
remarked Mr. Hammer.
" There cannot be any mistake about it, I should
think," observed the General.
MISS HAMMER'S LOVERS.
H7
" Oh, no ; of course not," remarked Mr. Hammer.
" But aunt was not bald," said Irene.
" And her nose turned down, instead of up," said Mr.
Hammer.
" It is very curious," remarked the General. " But
death produces wonderful changes."
"We cannot comprehend these mysteries," said Mr.
Hammer, " but I should like to know how her hair hap¬
pened to turn black. It used to be grey."
"And she had no double-chin," said Irene.
" Well, well! " remarked Mr. Hammer, " we must
accept facts as they are. I have no doubt that it is all
right."
The General led Irene away, weeping, and Mr. Ham¬
mer went to the city to arrange for the funeral. The
body was interred in the cemetery on the morrow. Only
the family, General Flynn, and the clergyman were present.
About a month later, a Venezuelan frigate sailed into
the harbour, and sent eight boat-loads of soldiers ashore.
Nobody could imagine what the object of the invasion
was. President Knox, however, suspected that the Pre¬
sident of Venezuela had come to pay that state visit
promised to Sandoval.
The soldiers said nothing. They marched quickly
through the streets and out to the cemetery. Proceeding
to the Hammer family vault, they forced open the door,
and seized the casket containing the body of Major-
General Bussera. Then they placed a keg of powder in
the tomb, fixed a slow-match in it, and retreated to a safe
distance to watch Mr. Joshua Hammer's sepulchre
whizzing in fragments through the air.
248
MISS HAMMER 'S LOVERS.
Then they returned to the ship with the General's
remains, hoisted anchor, and sailed away.
But where was the late Miss Appleby during this
outrageous proceeding ? It was with difficulty that any
accurate information could be obtained ; but report said
that when the Bussera family discovered that they had
buried another person than their noble relative, they were
so indignant that they took the casket down to the beach
and tossed it into the sea. Other rumours, not authenti¬
cated, however, declared that it floated away, and for a
month or two it sailed around the Gulf of Mexico, bump¬
ing up against Guatemala and Belize, being shot at for a
shark, and affording a roosting-place for sea-gulls. Finally
the captain of a Jamaica schooner, report said, tied an old
anchor to it, and sank it in sixty fathoms of water.
When these facts became known in Nicaragua, and
the real purpose of the Venezuelan invasion of the ceme¬
tery was disclosed, the most intense excitement prevailed.
There was a feeling that the sacred soil of the Republic
had been outraged.by foemen, and that the dearest rights
of one of the citizens of the nation had been trampled
under foot with manifestations of scorn and insult.
General Tejada declared that if he could transport two
fire-engines to Caracas he would bring Venezuela to her
knees. General De Campo swore that blood alone could
wash out the stain, and he would be one to volunteer to
invade Venezuela with fire and sword—if his mother-in-
law would let him. General Curculio sharpened his
sword upon a grindstone, and loaded both pistols to the
muzzle, apparently with an intent to destroy Venezuela
single-handed; but he was suddenly laid up in bed with a
MISS HAMMER'S LOVERS.
249
bilious attack, caused by a false report that President
Knox had declared war.
Knox said that war must come; but he felt as if the
country needed time to prepare for a long and bloody
struggle. Dr. Sandoval vowed that if he were in office
he should fit out a hostile expedition at once; and he
asserted, further, that the trouble might have been avoided
if the deceased persons who caused it had not been put
to death by the murderous treatment of the allopaths.
General Flynn seemed disposed to hold his peace. He
merely said that if he was wanted to uphold the govern¬
ment of his country, his superior officer knew where to
find him.
Knox dilly-dallied so long with the matter, that Sando¬
val resolved to appeal to the country upon the question of
Irene's aunt. He issued a proclamation, in which, point¬
ing to the President's manifest indisposition to resent a
wanton and fearful indignity to the Republic, he dwelt
upon the fact that the crisis might have been avoided if
General Bussera had had homoeopathic treatment instead
of the blistering and drenching with which Knox had for
years striven to exterminate the human race; and,
finally, he promised that if the people would elevate him
again to the Presidency, he would obtain prompt and
certain satisfaction from Venezuela.
Knox replied next day with a proclamation, in which
he said that he had already made the following demand
upon the Venezuelan Government, and that he should
enforce it at the point of the bayonet if it should be
refused:—
1. A complete and satisfactory apology.
»5° MISS HAMMER'S LO VERS.
2. An indemnity of fifty thousand dollars.
3. The fishing up of Irene's aunt from the bottom of
the Gulf of Mexico.
4. Restoration, in blue marble, with Gothic finish, of
the Hammer sepulchre.
5. Payment of Mr. Hammer's undertaker's bill.
While the matter was pending between the two Gov¬
ernments, and while some of the statesmen of Nicaragua
were considering if it would not be a good idea to call
a Central American Congress to discuss and dispose of
the subject of Irene's aunt, President Knox, one evening,
rode out to Mr. Hammer's house. On his way thither he
was overtaken by General Flynn. He was surprised to
learn that the General had the same destination.
" Flynn !" said Knox, " if I tell you something, will
you keep it a dead secret ?"
" Of course !"
" I tell you because I want you to help me with old
Hammer. Why, the fact is, Flynn, I have about made
up my mind to marry Irene !"
" No !" exclaimed the General.
" Yes, sir. She has kind of half consented, and I'm
going to press her this evening for a final answer. Pro¬
mise me that you will trot the old man off somewhere, so
as to give me a clear field ! "
" I'll see about it."
" And if you have a chance, say a good word for me.
I want his blessing. He has lots of money."
" Lots of it."
"And, Flynn!"
"What?"
MISS HAMMER >S LOVERS.
" I wish you'd just mention, accidentally, as it were, in
the presence of Irene, that Sandy is a phenomenal ass,
and that his medical system is a sure road to sudden
death!"
" Anything else that I can do for you ?"
" N—no ! I believe not! Well, you might perhaps
just say that I have written a note to the President of
Venezuela, to say that if he don't sail out and personally
dive for Irene's aunt, I'll kick him, if I have to chase him
from the Gulf of Mexico to Terra del Fuego. Something
of that kind."
Irene was at home, and she gave both visitors a hearty
welcome. After a few moments' conversation, President
Knox began to wink furiously at the General, as a hint
for him to drop out and search for Mr. Hammer ; but the
General seemed not to notice it. The President, there¬
fore, was obliged to confine his remarks to unsentimental
topics, and he began to tell Irene about the discovery of
hot springs on General Curculio's plantation, and of an
effort the General was making to plant his coffee-trees
around the springs, in the hope that when he bored them,
as the New Englanders do their maples, the sap would
run in the shape of hot coffee. During his observations,
the servant announced Dr. Sandoval.
When Sandoval entered, he was rather startled to see
the two leaders of the Phlebotomist party; but, after
greeting Irene politely, he bowed stiffly to them, and con¬
cluded to remain.
" Have you heard anything further about your aunt,
Miss Hammer?" asked Sandoval, maliciously.
Nothing," replied Irene, with some emotion.
25* MISS HAMMER %S 10 VERS.
"The Government is conducting negotiations," said
Knox, with dignity. " We shall soon be able to take defi¬
nite action."
" It is high time something was done, I think," said
Sandoval, to Irene.
" Miss Hammer is well aware that nothing more could
be done than has been done," replied Knox, winking
again at the General, to persuade him to back him with
the story of his note to the Venzuelan President. But the
General held his peace.
" It is so unfortunate, too," said Sandoval to Irene,
" that Miss Appleby did not have proper medical attend¬
ance in Cuba."
" Your method, I suppose, when a person is sea-sick,
is to give them squills, or something to make them
sicker," said Knox.
" My method is not to let a person die from sea-sick¬
ness in two days."
" You'd kill 'em in one day, I reckon," said Knox.
" Miss Hammer, you appreciate the absurdity of this
kind of talk ? Miss Hammer, General, prefers the
homoeopathic system," said Sandoval.
" Does she indeed ? " replied the General.
" On the contrary, she inclines to the regular school.
Do you not, Miss Irene ? " asked Knox.
" I think," said Irene, " that my preference is for the
eclectic method."
" The eclectic ? " shouted Knox.
" It is impossible!" exclaimed Sandoval.
" That is the system I intend to study," said Irene.
" Are you going to study ? " asked Knox.
MISS HAMMER'S LOVERS.
*53
"Yes."
" Not with a view to practise, of course?" said San¬
doval.
" I intend to practise when I receive my diploma."
"To set up as a physician?" exclaimed Knox.
" Yes."
" A woman doctor ! Well, who would have believed
it ?" said Sandoval.
" Are you in earnest ? " asked Knox.
" She is," said the General.
" Well, then, of course," said Knox, with a hysterical
laugh, " I need go no further."
"No further in what?'' asked the General, rather
fiercely.
" Well, as I regard a woman practitioner as—as—well,
I will not say what—of course, Miss Hammer, all is over
between us. I retract my recent offer."
General Flynn laughed.
"What are you laughing at?" asked Knox.
" I don't see anything amusing about it," said San¬
doval. " My medical society would expel me if I should
confess acquaintance with a female physician."
" Gentlemen," said the General, rising and assuming
a martial air, " perhaps this had better stop. Knox, you
say you withdraw your offer to marry this lady ? "
"Yes, sir!"
" Well, as she is already engaged to marry me, that
performance appears to be, in a certain sense, superfluous.
She wouldn't have you if you were the only man left. She
hates you worse than your patients hate your doses of
assafoetida "
254 MISS HAMMERhS LOVERS.
" Engaged to you ! " shrieked Knox. " Impossible !"
" And, Sandy," said the General, " your medical
society won't permit you to know her ? Well, sir, for
fear that remarkable association should fail to act
promptly, I give you notice that the acquaintance is
discontinued from this date. Good morning! By the
way, Knox, as you go out, just tell to Mr. Hammer your
story about the President of Venezuela, and mention your
views about the dimensions of Mr. Hammer's fortune."
The two physicians gritted their teeth, smiled grimly,
bowed politely, and withdrew.
" Knox," said Sandoval, " this is a queer business."
" Very !"
" It means war on the administration, I think."
" On you, too."
" Wouldn't it be a good idea to tie together ? "
" I think so."
" Here's my hand!"
" And here's mine; and we'll stand shoulder to
shoulder in the fight against Flynn, women doctors, and
the eclectic system ! "
General Flynn nudged up close to Irene when the
visitors had gone, and as he took her hand, he said,
"Well, that's a good riddance, anyhow. I knew they
wouldn't like your studying medicine. There is not
enough work for them, as it is, and there'd be less if there
was a doctor that cured instead of committing murder ! "
" I'm afraid they are very angry, Terence; perhaps
they will do us some harm ?"
" Not unless they can persuade us to take some of
their medicines, and we are far too intelligent for that."
MISS HAMMER 'S LOVERS.
255
Mr. Hammer came in, and the General explained the
situation to him. He laughed, but presently, becoming
grave, he said,
" But, Flynn, how about my taxes ? Knox will be sure
to try to collect them for all the back years, as soon as he
returns to his office."
"We can settle that easily enough."
" How ? "
" Why, let's have another revolution ! I'll pronounce
for you, and promise the country that as soon as you are
Fresident you will bring Venezuela to terms ; then you can
knock off your own taxes. I will be your son-in-law, and we
can keep this Government running as a kind of a nice
little family affair."
Mr. Hammer liked the project, and he agreed to it.
In the morning, General Flynn issued a proclamation
in which he declared Knox deposed from the Presidency
as a traitor, in consequence of his neglect to avenge the
wounded honour of his country. Mr. Hammer was
announced as his successor, and in a general order to the
army, Irene Hammer was promoted to the position of
Surgeon-General of the Forces.
Under ordinary circumstances, General Flynn would
have carried the army with him, but as soon as the news
spread among the men that Hammer's success meant
actual war with Venezuela, quite one-half of the entire
force mutinied and went over to Knox and Sandoval.
Among the seceders were all the brigadier-generals but
Tejada. General De Campo said that he liked Flynn
well enough, but he would never accompany an army upon
a campaign in summer time unless there was ice«cream in
256 MISS HAMMER 'S LO VERS.
the commissary department. General Curculio said that
if Venezuela had some other name he would fight her to
the last gasp, but he had sworn, when he was a boy,
never to conquer a country that spelled its name with a V.
Colonel Grambo was actually hungry for a fight, but he
was reading a serial story in a magazine, and he couldn't
bear the idea of going to Venezuela, lest he should miss
one of the numbers.
The half of the army that remained faithful to General
Flynn did so because the men knew that the General had
a habit of making his revolutions successful, and they
preferred being upon the side that controlled the pay¬
rolls and the supplies.
On the following day General Flynn sent a note to
Knox, commanding him to surrender his office. Knox
kicked the messenger down the Executive stairs. Then
Flynn wrote another note, saying that he should move on
the enemy at once.
General Flynn's half of the army was put under arms
promptly, and in a few moments it moved in from the
barracks towards the town. The Knox and Sandoval
army were discovered drawn up in line of battle behind a
post-and-rail fence just outside the town.
When General Flynn saw it, he halted his force, and
threw out four skirmishers toward the foe. The skir¬
mishers advanced twenty feet, but as the Government
force actually aimed at them with muskets, they fell back
suddenly in disorder upon the main line.
General Flynn then rode bravely to the front, and
commanded the enemy to surrender. In reply, Colonel
Carboy, one of Knox's aids, threw an old boot at him.
MISS HAMMER'S LOVERS.
257
The General resolved to give battle at once. Riding back
to his line, he showed the enemy to his men, and ordered
them to charge bayonets and take the position. Not a
man stirred. " Then fire at them!" shrieked the General.
Instantly every musket was discharged, and instantly
the Government army arose from behind the fence and
fled. Then Flynn's army dashed forward and secured
itself at the fence. A moment later Knox's army fired a
volley, and at once Flynn's heroes fell back to their own
line.
These brilliant manceuvres were continued for several
hours; and the fence was held by each army eleven suc¬
cessive times. The war began to be somewhat monoto¬
nous, and General Flynn resolved to execute a flank move¬
ment. He had just issued the necessary orders, when
the booming of cannon fell upon his ear. There was
heavy firing for several minutes, and both armies received
such a scare as they had never before experienced.
Scouts sent to the top of an adjacent hill returned with
the startling report that a Venezuelan frigate was in the
harbour bombarding the town. No sooner was the an¬
nouncement made, than the two armies arose simulta¬
neously, and fled towards the interior, making the best
speed ever known in military operations in that region.
General Flynn was left alone upon the field of battle.
He felt discouraged, and naturally so. Sitting down upon
a log, he picked up a piece of brick and began to sharpen
his sword, when he heard sounds that indicated a woman
in distress. Proceeding to a neighbouring thicket, he
found Surgeon-General Irene Hammer, kneeling beside
an open case of surgical instruments, sobbing.
17
" ' I think it's real mean,' said. Irene."— Page 259.
MISS HAMMER'S LOVERS.
259
" Why, my darling, what is the matter ?"
" I think it's real mean ! " said Irene, crying harder.
" Mean, my angel ? What is mean ?"
" Why, that nobody is wounded ! You've been fighting
nearly all day, and there is not even a man with a scratch
to put court-plaster over ! I didn't expect such treatment
as this."
" I am very sorry, pet, but I couldn't help it."
"What's the use of having a Surgeon-General," said
Irene, looking up with tearful eyes, " if nobody gets
hurt? I don't believe this can be the real kind of war.
Napoleon and the Duke of Marlborough always had
wounded."
"Yes, but, Irene,dear—"
" If you really loved me, you would at least have had
one sabre cut for me to sew up, or a bullet to probe for.
It's a scandalous shame, that's what it is."
" If you'll forgive me, you shall have the very first case
of accident that happens in the town, whether it is a man
kicked by a mule or shot with a bullet."
"Will you promise?"
""Yes, on my word of honour! And, Irene ?"
"Well?"
"If that frigate out there really did shell the town,
perhaps there may be something for you to do, as it is—
somebody blown in half, or splintered up, somehow ?"
" Suppose we go right in to see if there is ?"
" Very well. The armies have fled, and I am going
to meet the invader alone. The Commander-in-Chief is
bound to do his duty, at all hazards! The cowardly
rascals!''
z6o MISS HAMMER'S LO VERS.
The General helped Irene to mount her horse, and
when he had leaped into his own saddle, the two galloped
toward the town. As they entered the main street, they
were surprised to see the flags flying, and the city in gala
attire. The General could not imagine what was the
matter. With his companion he pressed on toward the
Executive mansion; but when he approached it he was
startled to see a guard of foreign soldiers drawn up in
line before the door. His first impulse was to retreat,
but just then he perceived Mr. Hammer, now President
Hammer, leaning from a window, and with smiling face
beckoning the General and Irene to come to him.
"Well," said the General, "it is the queerest thing I
ever encountered; but as your father wants us to go, I
reckon we had better do so!"
" Of course," said Irene.
As they rode up, the guard presented arms, and the
General, helping Irene to alight, escorted her up the
stairs. As they entered the President's room, Mr. Ham¬
mer greeted them, and said—
" Ah ! glad to see you ! You have just come in time.
Let me introduce you to President Maracaybo, of Vene¬
zuela ? Mr. President, my daughter ! General Flynn,
the Commander-in-Chief of our army !"
" Delighted to meet you," said President Maracaybo,
as he shook hands with the General and Irene.
" You are very kind," said Irene.
" Gives me much pleasure, I assure you !" said the
General. " Only I don't quite understand the—the—"
" Of course you don't," said President Hammer,
laughing. " His Excellency has come to pay us a long-
MISS HAMMER 'S LOVERS.
261
promised visit, and we propose to give him a hearty
welcome."
" But the cannonading that we heard ?" said Irene.
" He came in the frigate El Cuspador—splendid
vessel!" said Mr. Hammer, "and she was firing a salute."
" Our international complication, then," said the
General, "is in a fair way of being arranged?"
" Bless your soul, man, there is no complication," said
Mr. Hammer.
"How then—what is—how about the—the—that is,
how about Irene's aunt ?" demanded the General.
" Your Excellency must answer that question," said
Mr. Hammer, turning to the visitor.
" Certainly," said the latter gentleman.
Then he arose, opened the door of the adjoining
room, and remarked—
" My love ? "
A lady appeared, took his hand, entered the room with
him, and lifted her veil.
It was Sarah Appleby, Irene's aunt.
Irene uttered a little scream, and fainted. The
General turned as white as the wall.
" You here !" he said. " We thought you were dead!"
"Is it really you, aunt?" asked Irene, faintly, as she
opened her eyes.
" Certainly it is ! Who else should it be ? How are
you, my child ? I am glad to see you again, I assure
you. And, General, you seem to be well, as usual ?"
"Yes ; but—but—how do you explain the—"
" It was all a mistake, sir," said Irene's aunt. " I was
not really dead, only in a condition of suspended ani-
262
MISS HAMMER'S LOVERS,
mation—a mere case of catalepsy. I revived the very
next morning after they put me in that abominably damp
tomb. If I find out who circulated those wicked stories
about me floating in the Gulf, I'll pull his nose."
" Well, Miss Appleby—" began the General.
"No," interposed President Maracaybo, "not Miss
Appleby ! She is now Madame Maracaybo ! She is my
wife. Her case interested me so much that I became
interested in her. She accepted me, we were married,
and here we are !"
Irene flew into her aunt's arms, and kissed her ten¬
derly Then President Maracaybo approached, and said—
" Permit your uncle to salute you, also !" and he kissed
her affectionately. He was about to repeat the operation,
when the General said—
" Once is enough, I think, your Excellency," and led
her away.
" So you will be at our wedding, after all ?" observed
the General to Irene's aunt.
" Oh, yes."
" And I shall dance with you ?"
" You may, if you can persuade the army band to
remain quiet long enough."
"And I will dance with my niece," said President
Maracaybo.
" I'll make the band play, and stop you, if you do,"
replied the General, with a look between a smile and a
frown.
The wedding followed within a week, and it was the
most brilliant festival ever witnessed in the Republic. All
the brigadier-generals were present in full uniform. They
MISS HAMMER'S LO VERS. 263
swore allegiance to the Hammer Government as soon as
they were perfectly sure that the war was over. President
Hammer put an end to the revolutionary business, and
he conducted affairs with a strong hand. His first act,
after the wedding, was to send Knox and Sandoval into
perpetual exile. They went to Yucatan, and began to
practice medicine with the result that the death-rate of
the country, in a single year, increased a little over fifteen
per cent.
f|r, jH«jtt«r'si Ifiglji tit % Utttaij-
I.
t N the reading-room of an hotel at Eisenach,
Central Germany, Mr. Bartholomew G.
Skinner, of Squan, New Jersey, United
States of America, sat with his feet upon
the edge of a table.
Mr. Skinner had acquired a fortune at
Squan. He began as the keeper of a summer
hotel, and with money earned in this avocation
he had engaged in speculations in land upon a large
scale. Having bought up vast tracts of " pine barrens "
in West Jersey—great stretches of sandy loam, on which
grew nothing but stunted pines, scrub oaks, and huckle¬
berry bushes ; he cleared them, laid out farms and
villages, invited immigration, and advertised far and.wide
over the civilized earth the cheapness of his lands, the
fertility of the soil, and the healthfulness of the climate.
People came, saw, bought, and took up their residences
there; and so it came to pass that while Mr. Skinner
MR. SKINNER IN THE UNDER-WORLD. , 265
amassed a fortune, thirty or forty thousand persons
acquired cheap homes, beautiful towns dotted the former
desert, and vines, and peach-trees, and waving grain
stood in luxuriant growth where nature had for centuries
supplied nothing but vegetation that was useless to
man.
Mr. Skinner was, in a high and noble sense, a bene¬
factor of his race. The man who turns a great wilderness
into a lovely garden as he did, deserves even a richer
reward than he counted when he summed up his profits.
Mr. Skinner was travelling through Europe for enjoy¬
ment. tie was a man who had had little education in
his boyhood ; but he had read much, and thought much ;
and concerning the practical affairs of life he was fairly
well informed. He was a practical man, and he prided
himself upon the fact. There was no nonsense about
him, and not a great deal of sentiment, excepting that
which has a basis of solid common sense. The natural
movement of his mind was always toward the bottom
facts ; and where a matter was clearly within human ken
he never accepted theory, or tradition, or guess work, but
proceeded to examine it for himself, in his own way,, and
to form his own conclusions.
The contempt entertained by Mr. Skinner for some of
the methods, ideas, and superstitions which he encoun¬
tered during his journeying, could hardly be expressed,
and he did not often try. He fully realized that every¬
body's way could not be his way ; that large allowance
must be made for differences of condition in which men
are brought up, and that only a fool goes through the
world condemning aloud everything that does not con-
266
MR. SKINNER'S NIGHT
form to his standard. But Mr. Skinner was not a silent
man. He liked to talk, and he talked with directness
and confidence. He was utterly simple, and without
affectation—so much so, that those who had been accus¬
tomed to stand in awe of persons, whom Mr. Skinner
never hesitated to regard with easy familiarity, mistook
for rudeness what was really nothing but absolute un¬
consciousness that there was any occasion for a mani¬
festation of reverence. A man of intense simplicity is
apt to give great offence to those who are keenly sensitive
to the requirements of a very artificial etiquette ; and Mr.
Skinner often did so. But he never willingly offended,
for a kinder heart than his never beat in a human bosom.
Mr. Skinner was reading a book as he sat with his
feet nearly as high as his head. It was a Traveller's
Guide, and the passage that interested him at that
moment described the Horselberg, just beyond Eisenach,
and told in a very prosy way the wonderful story of
Tanhaiiser.
Mr. Skinner had never encountered that legend before.
He read it through twice, first hurriedly, and then more
carefully. Then he turned the book over upon the table,
rose from his chair, and went to the window.
He looked out, and there, in full view, was the very
mountain alluded to in the story. Mr. Skinner stood
for several minutes gazing at it, with his hands behind
his back. He appeared to be considering something.
Presently he turned about and rang the bell. When the
waiter appeared, Mr. Skinner said to him in English :
" What mountain is that, over there ?"
"The Horselberg, sir."
IN THE UNDER-WORLD.
267
" Is that the hill Tanhaiiser went into ?"
"Yes, sir; so they say."
" You've read about it, have you ? "
" Yes, sir."
" Do you believe that story ?"
" Oh, I don't know, sir. I think I do. Everybody
here believes it."
" Ever been over there ?"
" Many a time, sir."
"To the place where Tanhaiiser got in?"
" That's what they say, sir."
" I want you to take me to that spot."
" All right, sir; when ? "
"Late this afternoon. I want to get there by the
shortest known route."
"Very well, sir."
"You come into this room at seven o'clock precisely,
and I'll be ready."
" Yes, sir," said the man, as he withdrew.
As Mr. Skinner walked back to the window to take
another look at the mountain, he said to himself:
"If there's anything in that story I'm going to find it
out. If Tanhaiiser could get in, why can't I get in ? And
if I do get in, I'll bet a dollar I'll play a better hand than
he played, see if I don't!"
Then Mr. Skinner sat down by the table and began
his eleventh letter to the Barnegdt Advertiser, the news¬
paper through which he conveyed to the people at home
his impressions of Europe.
At seven o'clock Mr. Skinner was in the room equipped
for his undertaking. He had a traveller's satchel con-
268
MR. SKINNER'S NIGHT
taining a few articles swung over his shoulder; he had
placed a.loaded revolver in his pocket; upon his arm
was a light overcoat, and in his hand he carried an
umbrella.
Presently the servant entered, and ordering him to
lead the way, Mr. Skinner started, stopping for a moment
as he went out to address a note to the proprietor of the
hotel, who was temporarily absent.
After a long walk, and some rather stiff climbing, the
goal was reached.
" This is the place, is it ?" asked Mr. Skinner.
"Yes, sir!"
" Humph! Well, you can go home now," said Mr.
Skinner, putting a bit of money into the man's hand.
" Not going back with me, sir ?"
" No ; I intend to stay here all night. I'll return in
the morning, most likely. You needn't wait! "
The man looked at him with mingled amazement and
curiosity, but as it was plainly apparent from Mr. Skinner's
manner that he was not convulsed by extraordinary emo¬
tion of any kind, and was neither contemplating suicide,
nor likely to be much affected by supernatural manifesta¬
tions if any should appear, the man turned slowly about
and began to retrace his steps.
It was early twilight, and Mr. Skinner's first act was
to take a look at the place. It was upon the mountain's
side, a sort of a small plateau, covered with grass and a
sparse underbrush. The mountain rose high and black
above him, bare and rugged to the top. Trees were
thickly clustered upon each side of the plateau, and
beneath him in front the ground sloped away somewhat
IN THE UNDER-WORLD.
269
precipitously, its sides clothed with verdure, excepting
here and there where the rain had washed the earth into
gullies, or the stones had slid downward and marked
their narrow paths by stripping away the grass.
Out beyond the base of the mountain he could per¬
ceive through the gathering dusk the indistinct outlines of
the town, with now and then a light shining from a window.
Mr. Skinner admitted to himself that the loneliness of
the place was somewhat oppressive ; buthe was in search
of truth, and he had not expected to be quite so comfort¬
able as he would have been at the hotel.
It grew darker, and the air became chilly. Mr.
Skinner put on his overcoat; then he threw his umbrella
upon the ground, seated himself upon it, and lighted a
cigar. Upon the whole it was not disagreeable ; there
was a flavour of adventure about it which pleased him.
As the darkness deepened the lights in the town
increased in number, and he even thought he could
distinguish his hotel by the glow about the front windows.
It was a magnificent night. The stars twinkled
brightly as he looked up at them, and he felt a good deal
of satisfaction in recognizing most of the constellations.
Those were the very planets that he used to study from
his own front porch at Squan. They had an air of old
acquaintanceship which was delightful. He had not seen
anything since he left the States that reminded him so
strongly of home. It was a little odd to think of those
heavenly bodies sweeping over Squan, missing him, and
after crossing the continent and the Pacific Ocean find¬
ing him sitting on his umbrella out here on a wild moun¬
tain in Germany.
270 MR. SKINNER'S NIGHT
The damp earth and the heavy odours of the vege¬
tation about him brought up peculiar recollections also.
We remember smells longer than anything else in oui
experience. The Horselberg, on that calm and peaceful
night, had the odours that greeted his nostrils on the
second night at Gettysburg, when he lay upon the hill¬
side, in the dusk, with his regiment, too weary of blood
and carnage even to think of to-morrow's battle, which
would bring death to thousands about him, and woe to
other thousands far away from the battle-field.
And so he mused and smoked, and smoked and
mused, as the hours went slowly by. Once or twice he
caught himself nodding; and then he would rise and
walk about for a little space to rouse himself.
At last, however, his thoughts became confused, and
he knew no more until suddenly he was conscious of
the faint reverberations of a distant town clock. He
counted the strokes mechanically, and there were
TWELVE.
He had been asleep quite an hour. He was about to
get up and walk again, when he heard a noise close to
him, very faint, but distinct and musical. In a moment
he saw that the turf about about him was lighted by a
glow softer and less clear than moonlight; and he per¬
ceived that a host of tiny figures capered about amid the
grass.
All of his senses instantly were upon the alert. He
pressed his finger-nails strongly against his palm, to be
sure that he was not dreaming. No; he was wide
awake—he thought himself sure of that; and although
he felt a most intense curiosity, and he realized that his
TN THE UNDER- WORLD.
heart was beating with accelerated motion, he was per¬
fectly cool and fearless.
Looking steadfastly, he could perceive that the
moving creatures were miniature men and women,
dressed in fantastic garb. They danced about to and
fro, here and there, uttering few sounds and seeming
wholly unconscious of the presence of an observer. Mr.
Skinner knew that they were elves ; they belonged to the
story of Tanhaiiser.
An hour ago he did not believe in the existence of
such beings. Would anybody believe him when he
should relate his experiences ? What would the solid,
practical common-sense of Squan respond to a story of
an actual experience with elves ? He had an instinctive
feeling that it would never do to include anything
of that kind in his next letter to the Barnegat
Advertiser.
Mr. Skinner sat perfectly still, and watched the pretty
creatures making their evolutions. He had half a notion
at one time to put out his hand suddenly, and seize a
couple of them. There was a fortune waiting for the
showman who should offer such an attraction to the
people. Tom Thumb and his kind would be nowhere
compared with such atoms as these. But he thought
better of it. They seemed so innocent and happy that he
could not bear to injure one of them. And for money
too ! He had enough of that without doing a cowardly
action for the sake of it.
They came nearer and nearer to him, and he could
see that they were numbered by tens of thousands.
Every blade of grass and every barley-corn of earth
272
MR. SKINNER'S NIGHT
swarmed with them, They danced, and rolled, and
kicked, and leaped, and tumbled; and as they came
to his side and turned somersaults upon the ferule of
his umbrella, some of them began to throw their caps
into the air. One cap finally fell upon his hand. He did
not mean to do it, but, somehow, involuntarily, his fingers
"Involuntarily, his fingers closed upon it."
closed upon it. In the twinkling of an eye the whole
army of elves vanished, the glow faded from the grass,
and there was silence and deep darkness.
" Queer ! " muttered Mr. Skinner to himself; " all
gone, every imp of them. Let's see what it is I've got,
anyhow."
IN THE UNDER-WORLD.
273
He struck a match and looked. It was a tiny cap, too
small to go upon the end of his finger.
" Well, there's something like proof if I ever want to
tell what I saw ! I'll keep it."
He never knew precisely whence came the impulse
that moved him to do so absurd a thing as to remove his
hat and to place that little thimble of a cap upon his
head ; but he did so, and no sooner had it touched his
crown than there was heard a sound of rushing wind and
a confused murmur of voices. He felt himself whirled
about by some unseen force, and before he could make a
movement of resistance, he found himself lying in what
appeared to be a dimly-lighted cavern, flat upon his
back, with his umbrella in one hand and his hat in the
other.
II.
" Not very pleasant," said Mr. Skinner, as he sat up and
looked around; " but it's original and mighty inte¬
resting ! I'd pay a reasonable price to know what it was
that picked me up and flung me in here. I didn't
see a thing. I'm in for it now, though, sure as you're
born."
Mr. Skinner got upon his feet, and after feeling his
revolver, to ascertain if it was handy for use, he examined
the cavern. It had rocky walls, absolutely bare, unless
where stalactites here and there hung from the roof.
Straight before him it opened through a narrow way into
a space beyond, of which he could see little, excepting
18
274
MR. SKINNER VS NIGH T
that far, far in the distance he discerned what appeared
to be a mere point of very brilliant light.
Hardly had he gotten upright than the walls of the
cavern rang suddenly with a chorus of wild, shrieking
laughter.
Slightly startled by this fiendish noise, he looked and
saw coming toward him swiftly what looked something
like a squall of snow. Before he could think about it,
he was enveloped by a crowd of figures of misty
whiteness, which swept round and about him with
amazing velocity.
It was a moment or two before he could realize
precisely what was the matter; but he soon began
to mark the outlines of hideous forms, which grinned
at him in a horrible fashion and seemed to menace
him.
" Ghosts ! or my name is not Skinner ! Well, I never
thought I'd strike anything like this ! "
The whirlwind of shadows encircled him with accele¬
rated speed, and as they came closer and closer to him,
the demoniacal yells became more fierce and terrible.
Mr. Skinner was surprised at his own calmness. Leaning
upon his umbrella, he observed the performance with
rather a critical air, and after a brief interval of silence
he remarked, without being certain that he was ad¬
dressing anyone in particular :
" It's of no use. You can't scare me with any of your
whooping and howling. I can stand this sort of thing
as long as you can. I'm not one of the hysterical
Jsind."
Still the spectral storm raged wildly about him, an4
IN THE UNDER-WORLD.
275
still the cavern echoed the voices that came out of the
tempest.
" Oh well!" said Mr. Skinner, at last, sitting quietly
down and crossing one leg over the other, " if it makes
you feel better to waltz around that way, just go on ! I
can wait! Only I'm going to explore this den, if I have
to stay here a week to do it! "
Suddenly, as he spoke, the ghostly crowd left him and
flew shrieking down the passage whence it came. One
figure alone stood before Mr. Skinner. It looked some¬
what like an old man, with long hair and beard, and with
a face of majestic sternness.
Mr. Skinner saw the form so vividly, that he at first
thought it to be a real human being ; but when it stood
between him and the passage-way, and he perceived that
he could see the distant light right through the old man's
mantle, he comprehended that he had a genuine ghost to
deal with.
" Unhappy man," said the spectre, "why did you dare
to penetrate to this secret chamber ? "
" Well, in the first place, I'm a free and independent
American citizen, travelling upon a passport signed by
the Secretary of State, and I've got a right to go where
anybody else goes ; and, in the second place, I was
pitched in here, head over heels, without my consent, by
some of your people."
" Are you not afraid to stand in the presence of the
awful spirits of the dead ? "
" No, I'm not! Certainly not! You can't frighten
me? What are you, anyhow? You're nothing but a
little bit of vapour, or carbonic acid gas, or something.
" I am not afraid of anything I can poke my umbrella through,
like that."—I'age 277.
IN THE UNDER-WORLD.
If there was a chimney here and a strong draught, you'd
be sucked up the flue. You couldn't help yourself.
Afraid ! I'm not afraid of anything I can poke my um¬
brella through, like that, and that!" and Mr. Skinner
stirred about with his umbrella in the middle of the
spectre.
" You are very audacious; but you will never escape
from here," said the ghost, solemnly ; " never, never ! "
"I won't? We'll see about that. I've left my direc¬
tion with the United States' consul, down at the town
below here, and if I'm not back again within a specified
time, he'll be up here and blow your old mountain to
flinders ! You don't seem to be acquainted with the
party you have to deal with."
" It is strange," said the spectre, with the faintest
suggestion of embarrassment in its hollow tones, " we
are not used to being regarded with such calmness by
mere mortals."
" I know it!" answered Mr. Skinner; " I know it.
People generally are frightened into fits when they think
they see a ghost; but I made up my mind long ago that
if I ever met one I was going to investigate him. S'pose
we sit down here and have a little talk ? "
The spectre did not move ; but it struck Mr. Skinner
that he detected upon the misty countenance some evi¬
dence that the ghost felt that it was hardly holding its
own. Mr. Skinner had the advantage, and he knew it.
" I want to ask you now, for example," said Mr.
Skinner, sitting and locking his fingers over his knee,
u how it feels to be a disembodied spirit ? Never hungry,
are you ? "
278
MR. SKINNERS NIGHT
The ghost slowly shook its head.
" Costs you nothing for food ; don't have to buy any
clothes ; no aches or pains, or anything of that kind ?"
The spectre still nodded negatively.
" I thought not," said Mr. Skinner, "and nothing spent
for travelling expenses either. I reckon, now, if you
wanted to take a fly over to America you could get there
in a jiffy : crawl through a keyhole when you felt like it
too, I've no doubt ? "
" Yes," said the ghost.
" It's mighty singular," said Mr. Skinner, reflectively.
" I've felt that way myself at times, in dreams. It must
be rather agreeable, upon the whole. No taxes and no
work to do. But, say, what's the fact about your fellows
haunting houses and graveyards ? Ever do anything of
that kind ? "
" Sometimes."
" I wouldn't have believed it two hours ago. But
what's the sense of it ? What's the use of scaring people
with that kind of foolishness ? Why don't you keep off
and behave ? "
"You could not understand it if I were to tell
you."
" I'd like to have a chance to try, any way. But, no
matter, let that pass. I wish you'd tell me, though,
what's going on in here. Whose place is it ?"
"These are the realms of Venus. You shall see
them ; I will lead you."
" Will you ! That's clever ! I'm glad I met you !"
and Mr. Skinner attempted to pat his companion on the
■jack, but his hand went through the figure.
IN THE UNDER-WORLD.
279
" How soon will you be ready to start ?" asked Mr
Skinner.
" Now!"
"All right! But wait a minute ! No objection to my
smoking, I suppose ? " said Mr. Skinner, lighting a match.
" Maybe you'll have a cigar ? Oh ! excuse me : I forgot.
Of course you don't care for such things? Now," said
he, shouldering his umbrella, " if you'll push ahead I'll
follow."
" I will go! " said the spectre.
" One moment! As we are going to travel together I
think I ought to—that is, I,—beg pardon, but have you a
name ?"
" I am the Erl-King! One of the poets, Goethe,
wrote of me. You have read it, perhaps."
"What! you don't say! Yes, sir, that poem is in
every ' Speaker' in our school district. You ran off with
a child. I tell you what, old man, it wouldn't do to try
any of those kidnapping pranks in our country ; the
people wouldn't put up with them. Where is the little
one ?"
" In the court chamber. You shall see."
The journey began. The pair entered the narrow
passage way, and Mr. Skinner, whose powers of observa¬
tion were in full play, noted that the walls were cut so
smoothly that not a crevice or scratch could be seen upon
them.
" That's a mighty nice piece of work," he said, rubbing
his hand upon the wall. " How did you cut that ? With
hand tools or atmospheric drills ? "
" It was not done by mortal hands! " said the shade.
aSo MR. SKINNER'S NIGHT
" No ?" exclaimed Mr. Skinner, as the pair proceeded
upon their journey. " And this too !'' he said, as they
emerged into a long gallery higher and wider than the
passage way leading to it. " This beats any rock-cutting
I have seen yet. I say, if anybody ever wanted to run a
railroad tunnel through this mountain would your folks
consider a proposition for a right of way ? "
The ghost slowly shook its head.
"It's a pity, too," said Skinner, sadly, "for it don't
seem right to have work like that wasted."
" It's not wasted," said the goblin.
" Well, of course, each of us looks at it differently.
That's only natural. Now, it strikes me that to bore a
magnificent hole through a mountain for nothing else
than for a parcel of goblins to prowl about in, is a sinful
waste of effort. However, it's none of my business."
As he spoke there was heard a faint sound of the
crowing of a cock.
" Halloa ! What's that ? Sounds like a rooster ?"
"It is a cock crowing outside of us, upon the hill¬
top."
" Outside, eh ? I thought, at first, maybe you kept
chickens, and it struck me as kind of singular. I couldn't
imagine what a ghost wanted with poultry."
A few steps further on the pair came to the edge of a
precipice, and Mr. Skinner could see, beneath, a black,
rolling stream, from which clouds of light vapour ascended;
while upon the other side, perhaps a hundred feet distant,
the rocks rose sheer and ragged to the level of the height
upon which he stood.
Across the chasm was a sort of bridge, not wider than
IN THE UNDER-WORLD.
a hand's breadth, and having nothing but the naked
footway to support the traveller who should try to cross
it.
" What is this ?" asked Mr. Skinner.
" This," said the spectre, " is a river of boiling pitch,
which must be passed by every mortal who penetrates to
these realms."
" How do visitors get across ?"
" Upon this bridge. Some do not succeed. Dare
you venture it ?"
" I think I shall. Is it the custom to walk over?"
"It is," said the goblin, with what seemed to be a
look of fiendish exultation upon its misty countenance.
"Humph!" remarked Mr. Skinner. "Nobody can
account for the foolishness thwt there is in the world.
Now, my way of getting over is different. Hold my
umbrella a moment; won't you ? "
As the goblin could not comply with this request, Mr.
Skinner put the umbrella under the top of his satchel.
Then he got down and sat astride of the bridge, and
aided by his hands he made a series of small jumps which
brought him safely to the other side in a few moments.
The goblin was there to meet him, and Mr. Skinner
noticed that it had an air of severe disappointment.
When he got upon his feet he said :
" That is the poorest contrivance for crossing a stream
that I ever saw. Why don't you rig up something
better ? "
" We are contented with it!" said the ghost,
gloomily.
" I'll tell you," remarked Mr. Skinner, producing a
made a series of small jumps."— Page 281.
IN THE UNDER-WORLD.
283
pencil, and making a calculation upon the back of an
old letter which he fished from his pocket. " I know a
man in my country who'll run you an iron truss bridge
over that chasm for twenty-four hundred dollars, and
keep it painted for ten years. Something substantial and
safe. If you say so I'll write to him?"
The goblin, with a mournful look, shook its head.
"All right," said Mr. Skinner, "it's your concern
and not mine. But, I'll tell you, if money was any object
with you there are people who'd give a handsome bonus
for the privilege of boring for oil right around here. I
know, old man, from what I've seen in Pennsylvania, that
there is petroleum where that pitch comes from. Do
you care to speculate in the matter? No? Oh, very
well, I thought it might be friendly to mention it."
As the shade of the Erl-king moved forward, with Mr.
Skinner following, the character of the gallery underwent
a change. The walls were separated by larger distances,
and the vault above them rose to a greater height. The
rocks, instead of showing their nakedness, began to dis¬
play lavish adornment. Sometimes they were covered
with masses of trailing vines which hung from them in
graceful festoons ; sometimes great bunches of beautiful
ferns were clustered upon the walls, their long and
feathery branches sweeping downward to the floor. At
brief intervals the verdure gave place to a mosaic work
of splendid jewels. Mr. Skinner was amazed to find
hundreds of square feet of the walls glistening with
diamonds, emeralds, rubies, amethysts, and other precious
stones, of enormous size, and cut with the most exquisite
skill.
MR. SKINNER'S NIGHT
The sun did not shine upon them, and there was no
artificial light that he could discover; and yet the mass
of jewels flooded the vast chamber with a radiance that
dazzled his eyes. It was the most glorious vision that
he had ever encountered. It surpassed in the richness
of its colouring and the splendour of its wealth everything
that he had ever read of in the Arabian Nights, or
dreamed of as he pored over the wildest fairy tales. He
trod upon a pavement encrusted with stones, each one of
which would have enriched an empire, and he saw about
and above him walls inlaid with such superb art as no
jeweller of mortal clay could hope to rival.
His guide would have hurried on, but Mr. Skinner
wanted to tarry a while and enjoy the spectacle. It is
not every day, he thought, that a plain man has a chance
to study such a scene. This alone, he said to himself,
was worth all the trouble he had taken, and all the danger
he had encountered. A description of the chamber, in a
letter to the Barnegat Advertiser, would fill New Jersey
with excitement; and, before the year was out, the Erl-
king's goblin would have half a thousand Jerseymen
knocking at his door and wanting to come in.
"Ah ! " said Mr. Skinner to his guide, " I know now
why you do not want visitors. I understand why you
would like them to tumble off of that bridge. You've got
millions and millions of dollars invested there."
" This is nothing ; they are baubles," said the ghost.
" What! Oh, well, of course they're not of much use
to you. But I think I could get some practical good out
of half a bushel, or so. That diamond there, for example,
would supply half the women in my State with breast-
IN THE UNDER-WORLD.
2*5
pins, and make them perfectly happy. Are you handing
any of these around—among your friends, I mean ?"
The ghost made no sign of affirmation, and Mr.
Skinner added, as he gave a final look at the display,
"No matter. I don't covet them. Only, I thought it
would be nice to take one or two along, to remember
you by."
" You will not find it easy to forget me, in the place
to which you are going," answered the Erl-king, with
what might have passed for a sneer. " See ! " and the
spectre waved its shadowy hand.
Mr. Skinner turned and looked. Before him, at the
foot of a gentle slope, lay a scene of weird and wonderful
beauty. He saw a vast garden stretching away in front
of him, and to the right and the left, towards boundaries
which, somehow, were so indistinctly defined that he
could not surely say what were the dimensions of the
place, or its proportions. It had not the wildness of
undisturbed Nature, but still less did it appear with the
symmetry of human art. The beautiful confusion into
which the untrained earth flings the forms that spring
from her bosom, was not there. Some hand had prepared
the outlines of the garden, but upon a scheme such as
no mortal man could have devised. There were grace
and beauty, but these were evolved from an order which
was elfish in its eccentricity, and which appeared even
wilder than chance itself.
There were myriads of walks twisting and writhing
into strangest shapes, beginning nowhere and leading no
whither; and these ran in and out among fantastic
groupings of shrubbery, which expressed no definite
286
MR. SKINNER'S NIGHT
notions of forms, but conveyed suggestions of a purpose
to fill the mind of the observer with a sense of the un¬
canny.
The trees were covered with foliage which had a
greenness not precisely that of the outer world, but so
differing from it that one could not tell precisely wherein
the difference lay. The sward, of the same strange hue,
was covered with flowers of novel and peculiar shapes,
and glowing with colours that had no counterpart in
nature. Here and there cataracts fell from eminences
upon the plain, but the water, as it tumbled, was governed
by some force which turned it into queer figures, so that
one might imagine it to possess life and-volition, of "its
own.
After its descent, it ran away through tortuous chan¬
nels among the grasses, bubbling, and leaping, and play¬
ing fantastic tricks, as no earthly water could have done.
The fountains, that burst upward from the plain at various
points, also dashed and flashed in obedience to some law
which was excepted from the code of nature.
A flood of strong and penetrating light poured over
the whole garden ; but there was no sunshine, no distinct
radiance of any kind. The shadows merged into the
light imperceptibly, and the waters gave back but a faint
reflection to the source of their illumination. The leaves
danced and fluttered, and the surface of the streams
were lightly ruffled, but there was no breeze; the birds
flew about upon odd courses from bush to tree ; and they
seemed to sing; but no note of their music fell upon the
ear. The cataracts tumbled in silence; no sound of
falling waters came from the fountains.
IN THE UNDER-WORLD.
287
There was splendour and beauty, but over it all was
the hush of death. It was a place that might have been
made a home for joy, but it was joyless and horrible.
There was life, movement, activity ; but only such ani¬
mation as that which stirs within the realms of dreamland
■—mysterious, noiseless, and unreal.
As Mr. Skinner looked down upon the scene he
realized these things, and, perhaps, for a moment, he
had a sense of oppression, as though he were in a night¬
mare. But he readily freed himself from this feeling, and
his curiosity was strongly excited as he noted several
figures, apparently of human beings, passing slowly
to and fro, in attitudes of dejection, along the avenues
of the garden.
" Who are those people ?" he asked of his guide.
" Those are mortal men who have come here as you
have come, and whose fate it is to linger here for ever."
" Why don't they quit, and go home ?"
" Only two of all who have entered this realm have
gone away, and they returned when they were summoned. ■
That is the doom of all; to tarry or to return."
" Who were the two ?"
" Tanhaiiser and Thomas of Erceldoune.''
" Are they down there now ? "
" Yes."
" Well, if you don't mind, I'll get you to introduce me.
I would like to know one of them."
They walked down the declivity and into the garden.
Mr. Skinner examined everything carefully.
" Land like that," he said, pointing to a grassy tract
which stretched away to the left, "would bring forty
288
MR. SKINNER'S NIGHT
dollars an acre in West Jersey. I know a man who gave
that price for some not quite so good."
The ghost made no reply.
" I don't see," continued Mr. Skinner, " that you do
much with the property. Now, there's a field I know
would be first-rate for watermelons or sweet potatoes ; a
light, sandy soil, but rich and easily ploughed. If I were
you I'd put at least an acre in melons and another in
tomatoes and lima beans ; but then, of course," said Mr.
Skinner, suddenly remembering the unsubstantial nature
of his companion, " you don't care as much for such
things as I do. It's a pity, though, so much territory
going unimproved. It would be far better for those
people there if they had a regular job of spading an.1
hoeing to do every day."
They walked on as he spoke, and as they passed a
tree that was filled with fruit Mr. Skinner plucked from
the branches something that looked like an apple.
When he bit it, he found that it was but a mass of
dust.
"A decent cider apple-tree would be a blessing in
such a place as this," he said.
" This," said the goblin, pausing near to one of the
wanderers in the garden, " is Thomas of Erceldoune."
The man turned as his name was uttered, and Mr.
Skinner went up, with some vivacity of manner, seized
his hand and shook it.
" Glad to know you! I've met nobody since I came in
here but my ghostly friend and some others like him, and
it's a satisfaction to meet a genuine man."
'• Alas! " said Thomas, sadly, " is still another victim
IN THE UNDER-WORLD.
289
added to those who have come here to find endless
misery!"
" You don't take exactly the right view of it," said Mr.
Skinner, cheerily, " I am not a victim. Not a bit of it."
Mr. Skinner felt a deep pity in his heart for this
wretched man. He could not determine clearly whether
Thomas of Erceldoune was young or old. He looked as
if he might not have lived more than three decades, and
yet there was something about him that suggested
vigorous manhood which had been suddenly stopped in
its development and kept for untold years precisely at the
point at which it was when its forces were petrified. The
air of sadness that he wore was the visible sign of
despair. From this man's soul hope had flown for ever
and for ever.
" How long have you been here ?" asked Mr.
Skinner.
" I do not know. Sometimes I think but a day ; at
others I seem to have dwelt here for a thousand years.
It was in the fifteenth century that I left my earthly home
for the last time."
" You don't say ? Why, that's nearly four hundred
years !"
" Yes ; it must be so long."
" How did you get here ? "
"I came first to gratify my curiosity. Then I was
permitted to go back to my home. But I knew that they
would summon me; I knew it! And one day while I
made merry at a feast with my friends, one came to tell
me that a hart and a hind were coming up the highway to
my door. No one but myself perceived that my time had
19
290
MR. SKINNER'S NIGHT
come. But I was conscious of the meaning of the visit
of those strange messengers, so I arose and followed them
away, away, blinded by my tears and my misery, -until
they lead me here."
" Do you know what I would have done if I had been
you ?" asked Mr. Skinner.
" See here, old fellow, cheer up."
« No."
" Why, well, instead of quitting home I would have
had vension for supper."
'' That is a strange thing to hear in this place !"
" I know, but I mean it! See here, old fellow, cheer
.IN THE UNDER- WORL
291
up! You're mistaken if you think I am going to stay in
here. Indeed I'm not. And if you will come along with
me, and stick to me, I'll run you out when I go. I don't
know exactly how, but I'll do it if I say so ! "
"It cannot be ! "
" Oh, come now, that is nonsense ! If I get you off you
can go over the ocean with me. I'll settle you on a little
place somewhere in Atlantic County, make you snug and
comfortable, and you can start fresh in life. Is it a
bargain ?"
" Impossible!"
" I don't know that you care much for politics ; but if
you come with me to Jersey, and you're in want of money,
I could arrange, maybe, to have you run for something—
the Legislature, or some other paying office, enough to
make you easy. Let me see ; are you an Irishman ?"
" I am from Scotland."
"Scotch, hey? Well, that is unfortunate! You'd
have a much better chance in my country if you were
Irish. We Americans think we rule ourselves; but we
don't. The Irish govern us ! But I'll do the best I can
for you, so get together your things and come along."
But Thomas of Erceldoune did not answer. He hung
his head, and turning about slowly walked away.
" Won't come, eh ?" said Skinner.
The retreating figure shook its head slowly and
mournfully.
^ Young man," called Mr. Skinner, "you may never
have another chance like this. It's the wildest nonsense
to reject it. You come along with me and we'll stir up
this den of goblins so that they'll be glad to get rid of us
292 MR. SKINNER'S NIGHT
at any price. I'll take you under the protection of the
American flag, and we'll see whether anybody will dare to
hold us ! Won't go ? Well, it's too bad! too bad!"
and Mr. Skinner looked after the unhappy man, and
watched him until he disappeared behind the shrubbery.
"No, he will not go," said the goblin. "He knows
better than you do the awful power that holds you both
in thrall."
"Not both, old gentleman. I see you are still delud¬
ing your cloudy noddle with the idea that I am going to
stay."
"You will stay," answered the goblin, "and, as it did
to Thomas of Erceldoune, so a hundred years will seem
to you but a swiftly passing day."
" Ah, my venerable friend," replied Mr. Skinner, " you
can't play that upon me. I have an American lever
watch and a pocket calendar for the current year.
There'll be no time rolling by without my knowing it."
" We shall see," answered the ghost, with an air of
not feeling quite so certain about it as he had done
before.
"And, meanwhile," said Mr. Skinner, " s'pose we
push on and complete this exploration. I want to see
the end of the journey."
III.
The spirit of the Erl-king made no reply, but drifting
slowly across the garden it entered the portal of what
seemed to be a vast building of some kind, though so
IN THE UNDER WORLD.
293
puzzling and uncertain were its outlines, and so indistinct
the light that shone about the place, that Mr. Skinner
could not by most careful scrutiny determine if it was
really a structure, or a wall of the solid rock hewn into
symmetrical shape.
He followed his guide through the doorway, along a
wide hall which rang beneath his footsteps, and thence
through another wide portal into a long chamber of such
height as he could not clearly discern. A table stretched
from one end of the room to the other, and gathered about
it was a great host of figures, whose greyish whiteness
could be perceived without difficulty through the dusky
atmosphere.
" This," said the goblin, " is the Hall of Heroes.
Here are gathered the immortal parts of men whose
deeds upon earth have made their fame eternal."
" Soldiers, 1 reckon," said Mr. Skinner. " Who are
they ?''
"There," replied the ghost, "sits Arthur, and about
him are gathered the glorious Knights of the Round
Table. All are there, the true and the false together.
There is Charlemagne with his warriors, his crown upon
his head, his good sword by his side. N ear to him Red
Bearded Frederick sits with his six knights. Thrice
his beard enwraps the stony table in front of him, and
thrice more still must it enfold it."
" Why don't he shave ?" asked Mr. Skinner,
calmly.
"Here," said the spectre, not deigning to reply, "the
three great Tells join with the throng. The legend is
that they sleep a mortal sleep within the mountain.
294
MR. SKINNER'S NIGHT
But their eyes of sense will never more unclose. And
with them are the shades of valiant men of all degrees,
a company of the mighty and the heroic."
" What are they at ?" asked Mr. Skinner.
" It is a festival. They sit here, shadows of their
ancient selves, but with souls that feel the impulse of the
former fires, to hold revel and to recount the deeds of the
wondrous past."
"A kind of a dinner party," suggested Mr. Skinner.
" I'd like to join them. I don't see anything to eat; but
I s'pose I am safe to get a spectral steak or a goblin
chop, and that's good enough when a man is not
hungry."
"Beware how you thrust yourself upon these awful
shades !" said the Erl king. " They will not brook levity
or familiarity."
" I guess I will sit at the table and look on, anyhow."
And Mr. Skinner, advancing, took a seat tolerably close
to one of the ghosts, and, assuming an easy attitude,
observed them.
There was a murmur of voices among them, but. of
voices such as no tongue ever shaped into words. And
ever and anon the warriors, who seemed clad cap-h-pie in
ghostly armour, moved as if to raise beakers to their lips,
and to drain them to the dregs. Nobody appeared to
notice Mr. Skinner's presence; but after a while that
gentleman began to display signs of uneasiness, and, pre¬
sently rising, clearing his throat, and looking calmly
around, he said, as if he were addressing an ordinary
meeting of mortals :—
" Gentlemen, your chairman has not called upon
IN-THE UNDER-WORLD.
295
me to respond to any sentiment, possibly because he's
not familiar with the modern custom upon festive occa¬
sions, or perhaps because, not knowing me, he may have
persuaded himself that I would feel some diffidence in
addressing such a company. I do not wish to obtrude
my opinions upon you ; but since my entrance to these
regions, I have acquired the conviction that it would be
an act of philanthropy for an intelligent outsider like
myself to make an effort to freshen up your views a little.
I intend, therefore, to offer a few remarks, which I trust
will be received in the spirit of friendliness which moves
me to present them.
" Of course, gentlemen, my notions of things must
inevitably differ widely from yours. You were dead and
buried hundreds of years ago, and your sympathies are
largely with a past that was wholly ignorant of matters
of high importance with which I am perfectly familiar;
and I have the additional advantage of still possessing a
physical body, and net being compelled to stay under¬
ground all day, and to go out only at night, and even
then presenting the appearance of having been sliced out
of a fog-bank."
Here the Erl-king cautioned Mr. Skinner not to go on.
But he continued:
" Without going deeply into the work of contrasting
the methods of your time with the methods of mine, I
may be permitted to remark upon the oddity of the cir¬
cumstance that while individual soldiers of your age
encased themselves with iron stove-plates and helmets,
the vaporous semblance of which you now wear, we have
adapted such means of protection only to ships, with the
296
MR. SKINNER "S NIGHT
result that the chief purpose of the existence of a portion
of mankind just now is to make ships that no existing
gun can penetrate, and when that is done, to invent a
gun that can sink lhat ship.
" The point of interest is that men are still as busy
killing each other as they were when you were around;
and that while we are proud to pity the ignorance and
folly which characterized you when you spent your lives
in fighting, we have not become so wise as to perceive
that to settle a quarrel by shooting men with a revolving
cannon is not any more sensible than to chop them up
with axes and to brain them with clubs, as you folks used
to do."
The Erl-king hinted to Mr. Skinner that he was
touching a delicate subject; but the speaker pro¬
ceeded
" However, the matter to which I wished principally
to allude interests you more directly. I say, frankly, that
until I dropped in here, I never had any solid faith in the
reality of ghosts. I regarded the whole thing as a mass
of superstition. I see now that I was wrong. But having
confessed this much, I think I ought to say to you, who
probably have some influence over the affairs of your kind,
that the sooner some one of you starts an energetic reform
movement in the ghost business, the better will be the
result. Gentlemen, I am a practical man—a utilitarian,
if you will; and I must say that it grieves me, when I
look around upon this grave and dignified company, to
think of the ridiculous character of the methods in which
you manifest yourselves to mankind. If I were a goblin,
and I retained a particle of my self-respect, I would keep
IN THE UNDER-WORLD.
297
away from graveyards at night; I would refrain from
haunting houses, and prowling about, making noises to
scare timid women and children ; I would refuse to come
out at so-called spiritual seances and thrum diabolical
music upon cracked guitars, and tik tables at the bidding
of long-haired and wild-eyed mediums. If a ghost who
has been respectable in life cannot put in his spare time
in the outer world in better ways than these, my advice to
him is to stay in the bowels of the earth right along, and
to let honest people alone."
The Erl-king mentioned to Mr. Skinner that they
must move on at once. But Mr. Skinner said that he
would close in a moment.
" Apart from the silliness of such proceedings, gentle¬
men, they are disgustingly useless. Now, if I were a
ghost I would use my powers to reveal to living men
truths that would be of service to them—such as know¬
ledge of the spiritual state, and information, perhaps, as
to the location of veins of coal, of the metals, and so
forth ; or, if these things were forbidden, I would rent
myself out for exhibition for the benefit of good objects of
various kinds. A genuine ghost, for example, could
always find employment when Hamlet or Macbeth is
performed at the theatres ; and if you can flit about with
the rapidity commonly attributed to you, some of you
might earn good wages carrying messages for persons to
places which the telegraph does not reach."
The Erl-king said that there would be danger in speak¬
ing further ; but Mr. Skinner added :
" One word more. You hold in wicked bondage down
here in the garden a lot of people who have a right to
298
MR. SKINNER'S NIGHT
their liberty. Now, what good it does you, or the head
person who governs this place, to practise cruelty of that
kind, I can't imagine. My opinion is that you ought to
let them go, and to give them each a pocketful of the
" While Mr. Skinner was speaking, the assembly sat in
profound silence."—Page 299.
jewellery I saw back here, a piece, for damages done to
them. If you don't agree to this I intend as soon as I
return to my hotel to get out a writ of habeas corpus, if
such a thing is to be had in the German Empire; and
IN THE UNDER-WORLD.
most likely, if there is any fuss made about it, I will
organize a railroad to run along here, and I will have a
locomotive whizzing through this mountain in a way that
will make you wish you could die again ! That is all I
have to say. I am obliged to you for your attention ; and
If any of you ever want to communicate with me don't
hunt up a medium, but come direct to me at Squan, New
Jersey, in the day-time, and if the light annoys you we'll
have a comfortable talk in the cellar or the smoke-house."
While Mr. Skinner was speaking the assembly sat in
profound silence, and upon some of the faces could be
detected a look of bewildered amazement. When he
finished, he said politely :
" Good morning," and turned to go.
" How do you think it struck them ?" asked Mr.
Skinner of his companion.
" You are a marvellous man, and a bold one," replied
the spectre, almost timidly. " I thought they would rend
you in pieces. Strange! Strange! that such things
should happen within these realms !"
I told you I'd give you some new ideas," said Mr.
Skinner ; " and now, which way are we going ?"
"Straight forward."
" And what then ? "
" Soon you will be ushered into the splendid court of
Aphrodite, the mistress of these realms, and the power
whom you and I and all must obey."
" A ghost, is she ?''
" A being of transcendent and wondrous loveliness."
" Well, let me know before I get there, for I should
like to fix myself up a little."
3oo
MR. SKINNER 'S NIGHT
They pressed onward through a succession of apart¬
ments, each of which was more magnificent than that
which preceded it, until they entered a chamber that was
adorned with strange, but beautiful objects.
" That," said the guide, " is a plant which gives to him
who possesses it the power to ward off evil spirits. He
who looks in this mirror sees all his future life in full
detail depicted before him. The water of yonder bubb¬
ling fountain compels complete forgetfulness of the past.
He who eats of the fruit that lies upon this table gains
such vision that he can see the riches that are hidden in the
bosom of the earth. Here are gathered all the resources
of magic, and all the marvels that men have dreamed of
when they have thought to pierce the veil that shuts out
the supernatural from the natural."
" When you get tired of making an inventory of the
effects," said Mr. Skinner, " perhaps you will come along."
" We are now," said the goblin, reverently, " upon the
threshold of the throne-room of the glorious Aphrodite.
Through that doorway we shall be ushered into her
majestic presence."
"Wait a minute, then." And Mr. Skinner, unslinging
his satchel, placed it upon the table, among the fruit that
improved the eyesight, and began rummaging in its
depths. A moment later he took out a clean collar and
a hair-brush. Placing himself before the mirror of life
to come, he untied his cravat, removed his shirt-collar,
put it carefully in his satchel, buttoned on the fresh one,
tied his cravat, gave it two or three pats with his fingers,
and then surveyed it with a look of satisfaction. Then
taking off his hat, he smoothed his hair with the brush.
IN THE UNDER-WORLD.
When the operation was completed he returned the brush
to the satchel, snapped the catch, resumed his hat, and,
turning to the goblin, who observed him with what
seemed feelings of horror, he said, ,fNow I am ready,
Shall we go right in ? "
The shade of the Erl-king approached the door, which
swung slowly and
silently upon its
hinges. Mr. Skin¬
ner followed the
goblin through the
portal.
The scene upon
which he was ush¬
ered transcended in
dazzling splendour
anything that he
had ever witnessed.
He saw a vast tem¬
ple, whose walls
were massive slabs
of gold and pearl,
covered by some
cunning hand with
grotesque but beautiful designs of elaborate work¬
manship. Huge pillars of sapphire and emerald rose
from the floor and swept upwards to a roof of snowy
crystal, through which a clear, soft radiance poured in a
flood which made every nook and corner of the apart¬
ment as bright as though the noonday sun looked in
upon it.
302
MR, SKINNER'S NIGHT
The floor was of onyx, laid in a wondrous pattern,
such as no human mind has ever devised. The doors were
made of ebony, inlaid with silver ; and, at intervals, there
stood tables of carved ivory, of amethyst, of frosted gold,
and chairs of porphyry, and chrysolite, and sardius.
Great mirrors of burnished silver hung from the walls,
and before them tiny fountains leaped into the air, and
fell into jewelled basins. Upon all sides there were
riches, beauty, magnificence, and exquisite art, such as
no treasure-house upon earth ever presented to the eye
of man.
At the end of the room, beneath a canopy bespangled
with gems, two golden thrones were placed, and, sitting
upon one of these, the visitor saw a woman, so fair, so
noble, so crowned with a matchless and wonderful beauty,
that he thought all the loveliness of woman that he had ever
looked upon was but as deformity in comparison with it.
She was clad in a snowy robe of gossamer fineness, and
of most delicate grace ; and upon her forehead glistened
a diadem of jewels of surpassing splendour. About her,
as she sat, were gathered a court of other women,
scarcely less beautiful, and, as the visitor approached
them, he heard strains of music of piercing sweetness,
which swelled and throbbed through the crystal arches
with vibrations which the ear might have heard for ever
and for ever without satiety.
As the visitor came nearer, it seemed to him that that
glorious company had been expecting him, for, when the
Erl-king said to him, " This is Aphrodite, the Queen,"
she upon the throne smiled graciously upon him, and
gave him hearty welcome to her court, while those who
IN THE UNDER-WORLD. 303
surrounded her echoed her words, and appeared eager to
do him honour.
"All very well," said Mr. Skinner, to himself; "but
how about Tanhaiiser, and Thomas of Erceldoune, and
the other poor wretches in the garden ? I have no doubt
that they were received in the same manner."
"We have waited for you," said the Queen, most
graciously, " and we rejoice that you have come to dwell
with us. Happy is the mortal who is permitted to linger
in the company of the immortals!" And she extended
to him her white hand, that he might kiss it.
Mr. Skinner grasped it, shook it warmly, and said,
"Thank you, madame; you are very kind. I was
travelling through the neighbourhood, outside here, and I
thought I'd just drop in. But I can't stay. Sorry ; but I
have an engagement in Berlin on the twenty-second."
" When you have tasted the delights of this realm you
will not wish to go. The world from which you come
has nothing to offer that can rival the fascinations of
this."
"Well, madame, tastes differ, you know. This is
gorgeous, and elegant, and all that ; but, as a steady
thing, I really think I should prefer Squan."
" Sit here," said the Queen, pointing to the throne
by her side. "It is the place of honour—it is yours.
The greatest men of your race have longed to occupy it;
some have done so, and counted it the highest plea¬
sure."
" It's handsome, that's certain," replied Mr. Skinner,
running his hand over the golden carvings. " Handsome,
but I must say that I've seen furniture that would beat it
3°4
MR. RKINNER'S NIGHT
for comfort. Now I wonder that, instead of sitting about
on a hard yellow affair like this, you don't order a few
stuffed chairs, for common use ? There's a cabinet¬
maker, near where I live, that would get you up a dozen
with springs for almost nothing, and be glad of the
chance."
" You," said the Queen, laughingly, " are the only guest
who ever thought our temple less than faultless.''
" Well, madamc, I'm a prosy sort of a man, who
always looks at the practical side of things. Now, do
you know what I would do if I owned this place ? "
" I cannot tell."
" Why, I would rig up some kind of a stove, and keep
a coal fire going, to take off the chill. It must be dread¬
fully damp, underground here."
The Queen and her maids of honour laughed merrily
at this, and Mr. Skinner thereupon added,
" The best thing that I find here is a little good-
humour. My friend, the Erl-king, here is much too
solemn to be an agreeable companion. A week with
him would make me melancholy for life."
"You shall always be merry here," replied the Queen,
with a sweet smile. " These are the realms of joy, and
I will give you a better companion than your guide.
Which of these will you choose to be your partner
through all the years to come ?" And she waved her
hand toward the throng which stood around her.
" None of them, madame !"
"What! None?"
" Excuse me, madame, but I don't think you compre¬
hend the existing state of things. I am a married man
IN THE UNDER-WORLD.
already. In my home, far across the sea, I have a wife
whom I love. She is not so handsome as these, maybe,
but her homeliness is not actually alarming ; and when it
comes to housekeeping and plain cooking, she has no
equal from the Hudson River to the Capes, if I do say it
myself. While she lives I intend to stick to her."
Mr. Skinner was gratified to perceive that his remarks,
uttered with some warmth, did not give offence. A ripple
of laughter swept over the crowd.
" You have not much love for the beautiful, I think,"
said the Queen.
" Oh yes, madame. When it comes to good looks,
this place takes the palm, without a doubt. I was aware
of that. I have often seen statues of you, out in the world.
A little scarce of clothes, if you will pardon me for saying
so, but uncommonly handsome; everybody admits
that."
" Men praise me, do they ?" asked Aphrodite.
" Oh, yes ! Of course, In the matter of personal
appearance, I mean. My guide-book, which I was reading
over at the hotel throws out an insinuation that there is a
little too much paganism down here for Europe in the
nineteenth century ; but in the country that I come from
we don't meddle with people's religious opinions."
The Queen made no response.
" I do think, though," continued Mr. Skinner, passing
one leg thoughtlessly over the arm of the throne and
speaking reflectively, " that it might not be a bad idea
to organize a missionary movement in these parts.
There's Elder Cooper of the Barnegat Meeting ; he has a
powerful gift as a persuader, and if you'd allow him to get
29
3O5 MR. SKINNER'S NIGHT
up a revival-meeting in here somewhere, there is no telling
what might happen."
" We will not speak of that! " replied the Queen in a
tone of light displeasure.
" Beg pardon if I was rude ? The thought occurred
to me, and I expressed it frankly without meaning to hurt
anybody's feelings."
As he spoke he was surprised to see a great throng of
children come running into the apartment. They gathered
close about him and gazed at him with childish wonder.
Mr. Skinner looked into their faces, and while it was
clear that they really were children, it seemed to him
that there was something about them which told of
more years than their stature counted. They had all
the signs of youth, and yet he could not rid himself
of an impression that their youth had left them long
centuries ago.
As they ranged themselves before him, he said to the
Queen,—
" Your's madame ?"
" Oh no ! these are the little ones who left their homes
in Hameln to follow the music of the Pied Piper."
" Seems to me I have heard something about it,"
observed Mr. Skinner; "how long ago was it ?"
" Six centuries have passed since they came trooping
into the mountain behind the Piper. One hundred and
thirty of them came, and they are all here ! "
" Well, well! " replied Mr. Skinner, " it's mighty
queer, and sad too. How do you treat them ? "
"We love them."
" Do you educate them ? No academies down herej I
IN THE UNDER-WORLD. 30j
'spose? Never let them goto Sunday school? Would
you mind then if I asked a few questions ? "
" You shall do so."
Mr. Skinner stood up.
" Put your hands behind your backs, children; that's
it; now hold up your heads and look straight at me.
What is the capital of Indiana ? Speak right out!
Nobody knows? How is Ireland bounded? Come,
answer ! Don't know ? Well, I declare ! How many
are four and eight ?"
The children stood silent, and eyed Mr. Skinner almost
mournfully.
" Well, now," he proceeded to say, " let me try you ih
spelling. Can you spell ' Baker' for me ? Begin!
' B— 1' Go on ! B-a- b-a-. Somebody try it! Can't
do it ? I was afraid not. Can you spell ' Boy' ? Begins
with a B, like the other ! Don't know that either ! "
The Queen said that they knew nothing of earthly
things.
" Well, madame, permit me to say that it's a blamed
shame the way the education of these children has been
neglected. You want a schoolmistress down here worse
than you want a parson. That's my opinion, and I don't
tare who knows it!"
Mr. Skinner found himself getting angry and warm.
Opening his satchel, he took out a package and said :
" Children, here's some candy for you. Hardly
enough to go around, but it's all I have, and there is no
confectionery store handy. I'd give you some money to
buy fire-crackers, too, only I know you'd never have a
chance to spend it! "
3°8
MR. SKINNER'S NIGHT
" You love little children, I perceive," said Aphrodite.
" I do. I love them too well to like to see them poked
underground alive, and kept there six or seven hundred
years. It is a great wrong."
" They are very happy here."
" Well, maybe they are ; but it's not the fair thing.
I'll tell you what I'll do. You turn the whole batch over
to me, and I'll take them along, and either bind them out
or stow them away in an orphan asylum, where they will
be decently brought up. Is it a bargain ?"
"We cannot part with them."
" Who takes care of them ? Who washes and dresses
them, and fixes them up ? You have no servants ? No ?
I hardly thought you could persuade nursery maids to live
underground here. That is the only advantage you have
that I can see."
"What?"
"No bother with the servant-girl question. It pesters
the life out of women up above. The hired girl we had
just before I left home," said Mr. Skinner, with an absent
look upon his face, as if his mind was contemplating some
curious experience of the past, " parted with us because
we complained of her frying the oysters in Mrs. Skinner's
pomatum."
Aphrodite did not seem especially interested in this
fragment of domestic history, and she motioned for the
children to go. As Mr. Skinner watched them moving
away, he said, putting his hand in the satchel:
" I just happened to think that I had a bottle of cough
medicine along with me, that might be useful to the
little ones. You are welcome to it if you want it."
IN THE UNDER-WORLD.
309
Her Majesty apparently did not hear him, for she gave
a signal, and again the hall was filled with the rapturous
music that he had heard a brief while before. Instantly
the floor was filled with beautiful dancers, who whirled
about in riotous fury through a dance, which became
wilder and wilder as it proceeded. Mr. Skinner observed
the "performance in silence.
"Is it not beautiful?" asked the Queen.
"Beautiful," replied Mr. Skinner; "but a little too
violent for my taste."
" Shall you not join them ?"
" I am obliged to you; but it is with the utmost
difficulty that I manage to hobble through a plain
cotillion. Round dances I'm opposed to. If I should
step in there I should be so giddy in a minute that I could
not stand. Your music is fine though. Who attends to
that for you ?"
" The Pied Piper; his real name is Orpheus."
" Ah ! I'm not a very good judge, although I know
the best from the worst. I am a subscriber to the
Barnegat Brass Band, down where I live; and that organ¬
ization took the first prize at a brass band tournament at
Newark last summer. Some think it is superior; but I
dont know. I have always had my doubts about it."
" Music is ever beautiful," said the Queen.
" Well, possibly, your experiences have been more
favourable than mine. Sometimes when the band comes
out serenading at night I incline to think that the art is
overrated. Do you sing ?''
" No ; I listen to others."
" I'm not much of a singer myself," said Mr. Skinner,
MR. SKINNER'S NIGHT
prodding an emerald tile in the pavement, absently, with
the ferule of his umbrella; " but when I am at home I
do sometimes turn a tune in the privacy of my family."
" Will you sing for me ? Oh, I know you will! " ex-
claimed the Queen.
Mr. Skinner had a feeling of diffidence for the first
time since he entered the mountain.
"Well, madame, I would like to oblige you, but to
tell the truth, I—my voice is so poor that—"
" You will not refuse me ?"
" But I am such a poor singer, that I know you will
not be pleased," and Mr. Skinner laughed a nervous
little laugh.
" I am sure you will try, will you not ? " said Aphro¬
dite.
" Well, if you insist on it, I s'pose I must," replied
Mr. Skinner. " Let me see," said he, rubbing his chin
and looking thoughtfully up at the ceiling; " I only know
one piece, and not much of that. How does it begin?"
and Mr. Skinner cleared his throat vehemently, twice.
Meanwhile the entire company of dancers, and all the
lovely maids of honour had gathered in front of him
awaiting with interest the performance. Mr. Skinner
felt himself getting uncomfortably warm. He cleared
his throat again, and said :
" I'll do the best I can ; it begins in this way : 'On
Jor—dan's stor—my—y ba—a—anks I stand, And cast
' Wait a minute. I have not got the right pitch.
That's too high. Let me try again: 'On Jor—dan's
stor—my—y ba—a—nks I stand, And cast a ' That
won't do; it's too low. Onre more: 'On Jor—dan's
IN THE UNDER-WORLD.
311
Stor—my—y ba—a—anks I—I stand, And cast a—a
wistful eye, To Ca—a—nyan's fair and ha—a—appyland,
Where my—y possessions li—i—ie.'"
As Mr. Skinner stopped he observed that everybody
looked very solemn, and he thought the room somehow
had lost some of the brilliant light that had filled it. He
was conscious that he had not made a very favourable
impression as a vocalist, and in a kind of desperation he
yielded to an impulse to try again.
" I think probably I can do that a little belter if you
will bear with me: 'On Jor—dan's stor—my—y
ba—a—nks I ' "
Before he could complete the line, a sudden pall of
darkness fell upon the splendid scene before him ; he felt
a mighty rush of wind upon his face, and then he was
whirled around and around with the greatest violence.
He seemed for an instant to lose consciousness, and when
he opened his eyes they looked straight upward at the
serene beauty of the blue sky.
He found that he was lying flat upon his back upon
the plateau to which he had come yesterday evening.
Beside him lay his umbrella and his satchel. Above him
the sun was shining brightly, about him the cool breeze
rustled the leaves upon the trees, while the music of the
birds was wafted to him from the neighbouring forest.
He thought that the fair earth and the sunshine and all
the things that Nature presented to the eye had never
seemed so beautiful.
How did he get here? That was almost the first
question that thrust itself upon his bewildered mind.
Was it the sacred nature of the words that he had tried
MR. SKINNER'S NIGHT
to sing that had offended his audience, or was it the
atrocious character of his vocalization. He could not
tell. He felt that he would give a moderate sum of
money to ascertain.
He looked out over the edge of the plateau, and there,
beneath him was the town. He could see the people
moving about in the streets, and there was a crowd in
front of his hotel. Perhaps they were discussing his
adventure and wondering what his fate could be. What
should he tell them ? The more he thought about it, the
less certain did he feel of the reality of the strange and
weird scenes through which he had passed. The im¬
pression of their actuality was strong upon his mind, but
could he say absolutely and positively that he had not
dreamed it all ? Pie had a decided impulse to scoff at the
idea. The Erl-king, the ghosts, and the children, the
man to whom he talked in the garden, surely he had
encountered them and talked with them! But did not
his common sense revolt at the theory that he had been
tumbled into the cavern and tumbled out again without
knowing how or by whose hands !
His perplexity increased as he reflected upon the
matter. Then, suddenly, he thought of the talk he had
heard about one hundred years in the mountain passing
as swiftly as a single night ; was it possible that this had
happened to him ? He looked at his watch. It marked
six o'clock. That proved nothing. The scenery about
him, and particularly the town looked the same as they
had done when he last saw them. He determined to go
down to the hotel and satisfy his mind.
When he reached the hotel he assured himself that
IN THE UNDER-WORLD. 313
only one night had passed. Upon reflection Mr. Skinner
resolved not to speak of the matter to any of the other
people about the view, but to keep his own counsel; and
to this day he cannot positively say whether he followed
Tanhaiiser into the mountain or merely had a tremendous
nightmare upon the outside of that eminence.
Hiss Uplmsnj JLbusttfurs,
RICHARD SMITH and Mr. Arthur
Gibbs were guests at a large party given
at the house of Judge Campbell in the town
of Wington. When the evening was half
gone, they were standing at the upper end
of the drawing-room, talking and watching the
moving throng beyond them, when Smith sud¬
denly exclaimed :
"Who is that insignificant-looking little woman over
there ? She has a throng of men about her ; but they
certainly can't be attracted by her beauty. She is the
plainest woman in the room! "
"Don't you know her?" said Gibbs. "Why, she is
the famous Wington heroine!"
" Indeed ! A heroine, eh ? Well, I confess my ignor¬
ance. Really, I was not aware that this prosy place
boasted a heroine."
" Well, then, you have to hear a story of endurance
MISS WILMER 'S ADVENTURE.
3'5
and fortitude which, when you look upon that slight figure,
seems really incredible."
" I am ready to have the tale unfolded, my lad, when¬
ever you are disposed to oblige me."
So the two young men sauntered out to the
library, and, throwing themselves into easy-chairs, Gibbs
began:
" You must know, in the first place, that my heroine
has held that position just about six years. She came
here half-a-dozen years ago from New England io
response to a call from the gentlemen who manage the
common schools of this county. ^She was a teacher by
profession, and her name was Susan Wilmer."
" ' Susan' is very mild for a genuine heroine !"
" She was placed in charge of a certain little red
school-house, away out yonder among the hills, near to
that small collection of buildings called Maysville."
" I've been there," said Smith. " Two houses—a store
and a blacksmith's shop."
" Well, she took the school, and she laboured there
for many months trying to teach the young ideas how to
shoot, from very poor soil, I imagine, judging from the
specimens I have seen of her pupils. But nobody in town
cared whether she was successful or not. She did not
live in the village, because of the distance, but had taken
board at the only respectable farm-house in the neigh¬
bourhood, about a mile and-a-half over the mountain.
So her arrival did not excite lany very great remark, in
the usually excitable village of Wington, excepting, per¬
haps, when she came into church the first Sunday after
her arrival, when, of course, all the girls in the building
316
MISS WILMER >S ADVENTURE.
looked her over as she walked up the aisle, and went
through the customary mental arithmetic to determine
the cost of her clothing."
" That had to be done, of course," remarked Smith.
" But she was plainly dressed, and the young ladies
not having had their envy excited, as usual, indulged
their contempt for the new comer. Nobody welcomed
her, spoke to her, or showed by any sign that they recog¬
nized her presence; and I may say, that during the whole
of the first six months of her stay here, she was never
invited to a house in the town, or asked to indulge in any
of the amusements for which Wington is famous, all the
year round. She never made a friend or even an
acquaintance, among the people. It was a dull and
dreary life enough, I think, and I doubt not some of the
kinder-hearted among the elder ladies of the town would
gladly have shown her some attention; but although
polite when addressed, she was reserved and diffident in
her manner, and not easily approached."
"But you don't seem to be getting on toward the
heroics," said Smith.
"The farmer with whom she boarded," continued
Gibbs, " had a son, who "
" O, I see !" exclaimed Smith. " The farmer's son is
sick; she nurses him ; a tender passion developes ; he
marries her out of gratitude; the regular thing, you
know !"
" Not by any means. This young man was employed
as an amanuensis by a gentleman named Wylie, who
lived on the adjoining estate and was very wealthy.
Wylie was a man of thirty-five years, a widower, with one
MtSS WILMS £ >S AS VENTURE. % 17
little girl of six or seven summers. He was a first-rate
fellow, liked and respected by everybody throughout this
whole region. Wylie wanted to have his little girl
instructed in the rudiments of education; and, living
alone, he could not very well have a governess in the
house. So, upon the recommendation of his secretary,
he concluded to have the child attend the red school-
house, where Miss Wilmer taught. It was his custom to
send the child in his carriage, and at the time of dis¬
missing the scholars to have his man 111 waiting to convey
Miss Wilmer and her pupil to their respective homes.
Well, this arrangement was satisfactory to all parties, and
during the summer months everything went on smoothly,
and without any cause for complaint on either side. The
child learned rapidly, and conducted herself with about
the average propriety. On the 1st or 2nd day of
November of that year, the school was dismissed at
about four o'clock in the afternoon, but Wylie's man
not having arrived with the carriage, Miss Wilmer
sat with her solitary scholar in the school-room, to wait
for him.
"An hour passed, and it began to grow dark, and yet
the carriage did not come. The man had gone to town,
and was detained by a broken axle. Miss Wilmer con¬
cluded not to wait any longer, but to attempt to walk
home, thinking she could reach the farm-house before it
was dark, and then have the child sent over to her father's
place by one of the men of the family.
"You know how suddenly night comes on among
these mountains ? When the sun has set, the darkness
hurries in upon us with a speed of which people who live
3iS MISS WILMER 'S ADVENTURE.
in a level country have scarcely any conception. Well,
Miss Wilmer and the child, had scarcely gone a third of
the distance, before it was as black as pitch, and the
heavens were so obscured by huge banks of clouds, that
not even the faint twinkle of a star served to light up
their path, darkened as it was, too, by the network of
overhanging branches of trees, which moaned, and
rustled, and creaked in the wind. But the road was
an easy one, and Miss Wilmer was so thoroughly familiar
with it, that she strode along with confidence, rather
regretting that she had undertaken the task, but deter¬
mined to persevere, despite the fearful cries of the child,
whom she strove to reassure with words of comfort and
encouragement.
" The road wound directly around the mountain, at a
considerable inclination. On one side rose the rock3
covered with stones, grey moss, and ferns, intermingled
with tangled bushes and vines, and strewn with decaying
leaves, while a few oaks and evergreens grew from the
side, and leaned over the road as if they were trying to
peer into the valley below them. On the other side the
mountain descended at a considerable declivity, and Was
covered with trees, huge boulders, and a heavy under-
growth, excepting where, here and there, the bald rock
reached down perpendicularly into some chasm, formed
centuries ago, when the tired earth, weary with the throes
of her pristine convulsions, yawned with her granite lips,
and left them unclosed for ever."
" (Yawned with her granite lips,' is good," observed
Mr. Smith.
"Along this path, then, Miss Wilmer went,frying to
MISS WILMER'S ADVENTURE 319
keep close in to the mountain's side, and to avoid all
possibility of making a misstep over the opposite edge of
the road. Once she came to a tree which was prostrated
upon the hill above her, and which hung with its branches
over the way. She ran against these in the darkness,
and, drawing back, attempted to go around the obstacle.
She had hold of the child's hand, and her grasp
instinctively tightened as she felt the little one slip away
from her, and bring her whole weight suddenly to bear on
that one arm. The child gave a piercing scream as she
fell, and by the flutter of her white clothing below in the
darkness, Miss Wilmer saw that she was on the edge of
one of the most frightful precipices upon the mountain.
" To grasp the child's arm with her other hand was the
first movement, and with all her strength she endeavoured to
lift her up and place her on the road. But the woman's
fright had partially unnerved her, and robbed her of much
of her little strength, and to her dismay, she found herself
wholly unable to accomplish her purpose. She perceived
with the intuition of desperation, that her only hope
of supporting the child, existed in her lying flat upon the
ground. This she did, and holding on by one of the
arms, she gradually worked her other hand up to the
body, and caught hold of the dress. But would this bear
the weight ? it certainly did not lessen the danger that
her strained fingers would gradually lose their power, and
relax, so that their precious burden would be dashed to
pieces in those black and , shuddering depths below.
Those were the days, you remember, when women and
girls wore hoop-skirts. With a desperate effort Miss
Wilmer clutched the steel springs of the child's skirt, and
326 MISS WILMERS 'AD VENTURE.
taking the four lower springs in her hand, she twisted ner
arm into them so that they formed a loop around her
wrist, and then, feeling that her hold was secure, she
dropped the arm of the insensible child, and, tearing off
her hood, with her spare hand she bound the strings as
well as she could round the wrists of both hands, and
between the steel springs of the skirt, so that it could not
possibly slip off, the larger part of the weight bearing upon
the right arm.
" The pain was terrible beyond expression. The sharp
steel edges of the springs, dragged down by the weight of
their burden, cut into her flesh like knife-blades. The
arm was almost torn from its socket, and the tense
muscles seemed to be slowly tearing to pieces with the
fierce strain upon them. But the brave girl did not flinch.
She lay there with both arms hanging over the edge of
the rock, in patient agony waiting for that help which she
knew might not come for hours. Indeed, she felt that
anyone might drive over her prostrate body in the dark¬
ness, without her being able to scream or to utter a cry
for help.
" All kinds of thoughts whirled through her brain-
fearful, ludicrous, and sorrowful. She thought of her
school, and of the children gathering there to-morrow, and
missing her, and wondering why she did not come ; and
she herself wondered if they would be sorry to learn that
she was dead ; and if they would forget her, when another
teacher came. And then came a flood of recollections of
the scenes which had occurred there; of the little
peculiarities of each of the scholars, their queer sayings,
and laughable answers to her questions, and of the times
MISS WILMER'S ADVENTURE. 321
when she had punished them. What would they do with
her body when she was found ? Suppose she should be
buried while not yet dead! Horrible thought! Would
any of the town people go to the funeral? Would any¬
body be sorry she was gone, and shed tears over her ?
Bitterly and sadly, she could not think of one who
would.
"You know, the old story of the manner in which a
drowning man, in the few seconds of time which elapse
between the consciousness of the approach of death and
insensibility, reviews his whole life in the intense and
awful energy of his mind, compelled by despair. I
believe this to be the case in every instance where a
person is placed unexpectedly in imminent peril of his
life. The mind never forgets anything. The individual
may lose all command over the memory, and be incapable
by any effort, of summoning up recollection of circum¬
stances or facts, but they are there, and may be called up
at any time accidentally. And so, before Miss Wilmer's
mental vision, in that supreme hour, passed in review the
events of her life with almost microscopic exactness.
Her childhood, and its happiness, her early womanhood,
and its trials, and the disappointments, the joys, the hopes
of her later years—all came up before her, and with them
was a certain assurance that this was to be the end of
all; that she was to die in this place. These, and a
million other thoughts, flashed across the seemingly
infinite space of her mind, as she lay there, and then her
fancies grew wilder and became confused, and brilliant
colours danced before her and she fell into a swoon.
" As the evening wore on, and Miss Wilmer failed to
21
322
MISS JVILMER'S ADVENTURE.
return, the farmer with whom she lived, became some¬
what uneasy, and walked over to Wylie's place to ascer¬
tain if she had gone there with her charge. Wylie was
surprised and alarmed when the farmer announced his
errand, but, as the carriage had not returned, he concluded
to wait for a while, thinking perhaps they had gone to
town in the vehicle and were detained. After walking
about uneasily for half an hour, he determined to go down
the road to the schoolhouse to satisfy himself that no evil
had befallen them. Each taking a lantern, he, the farmer
and his son, proceeded out toward the mountain. Each
of them had an indefinable fear that some accident had
happened, and as they walked silently along the winding
road they scrutinized every part of it closely with the
flickering light of their lanterns.
" In a short time, Wylie's secretary caught a glimpse of
something white lying in the road; hurrying toward it,
he perceived it to be a woman's dress, and a moment
more disclosed Miss Wilmer lying at full length upon the
edge of the declivity. The first thought that flashed
through the minds of all was, that she had been mur¬
dered ; but Wylie almost instantly discovered his child,
and, with a cry of horror, sprang forward to rescue her
from her peril. His blood ran cold within his veins, as,
eagerly seizing her, he-looked down into the unfathomable
darkness of that abyss, rendered more appalling by the
obscurity in which its terrors were involved. To tear
away the iron from the brave arms which it had bruised
and torn, was the work of an instant, and Wylie, forgett¬
ing the insensibility of the noble woman at his feet,
lifted his child in his arms, and caressed it with inex-
MISS W1LMER'S ADVENTURE.
pressible tenderness, while the farmer and his son
leaned over Miss Wilmer's prostrate form, and, after
binding up the wounds upon the bleeding arm, endea¬
voured to restore her to consciousness.
" It now became apparent that a vehicle must be pro¬
cured to convey the sufferers to their homes, and Wylie's
secretary went back to obtain one. In the meantime,
Wylie succeeded in restoring the sensibility of his child,
and she began to cry with fright and bewilderment, but,
overcome by fatigue, she soon fell asleep upon her
father's shoulder, and he then began to realize the
heroism of the brave woman who lay before him. He
had not thought that delicate, shy little creature capable
of such presence of mind and such fortitude, and he
began to wonder why he had never before perceived in
her the elements of greatness. He had scarcely done
more than notice her heretofore, but now he saw that
he had been, as other men often are, worshipping
heroism afar off, while here it was, in its purest and best
form, at his very door.
"When the carriage came, Miss Wilmer was lifted
tenderly and placed in it, and the whole party returned to
their homes. All that night Miss Wilmer remained insen¬
sible, and when at last she woke to partial consciousness,
she became wildly delirious, and raved about the child,
the precipice, and the frightful death which ever seemed
impending before her. For three days the fever raged
within her, with not a gleam of returning reason, and it
seemed doubtful, indeed, if the dimmed spark of life would
not go out entirely. At length, however, the crisis passed,
and she came out of the delirium, prostrated in body and
324 MISS WILMER'S ADVENTURE,
mind, scarcely comprehending her situation, or remem¬
bering the accident in which she had borne so valiant a
part.
"You may be sure Wylie did not forget her, and
it was not only a sentiment of sincere gratitude that drew
him to the house, two and three times every day. He had
been thinking about her heroic deed, and he began to
comprehend that a woman can possess higher, and better,
and more enduring qualities than personal beauty, de¬
sirable as that may be. And so he called at the farmer's
frequently, and the room of the sufferer was filled with
the fragrance of the flowers that he brought, and her table
was covered with innumerable dainties and delicacies pur¬
chased by him.
" Miss Wilmer knew from whom all these came,but she
was too feeble to do more than simply feel grateful to the
giver. But after a while, when she became strong enough
to be carried downstairs, with that wrenched and hurt
.arm bound to her side, Wylie found it convenient to drop
in very often and sit by her, and to converse in his
\pleasant, affable way. She was shy of him at first,
overawed by a sense of his importance and social
superiority. But nothing could long withstand his
kind sociability, and Miss Wilmer soon found herself
looking forward to his visits with positive pleasure, and
before she entirely recovered she was, I think, in love
with him.
" But you know the rest. You know how it always
turns out, under such circumstances. Very soon it was
announced that Miss Wilmer was engaged to be married
to Mr. Wylie. The town people had all heard of her
MISS WILMER'S ADVENTURE.
adventure, and of her brave conduct, and she was praised
warmly for what she had done. But the shrewdest village
gossip was hardly prepared for this result. Nobody had
dreamed that Wylie would marry the poor little school
teacher, even if she had saved his daughter's life. There
were plenty of girls who had been making a dead set at
the rich widower for years, and these, with their managing
mammas, gave vent to their bitter disappointment in the
customary way, by pretending to sneer at his bad taste,
and by saying all the hard things they dared of Miss
Wilmer.
" But this was behind her back. That fine old
patriarch Job, when he recovered his lost property, you
remember, was loaded down with presents by friends who
had forgotten him in his adversity, and so now everybody
was obsequious to Miss Wilmer, and those who had ne¬
glected her and cut her when she had no expectations,
suddenly discovered that she was a remarkable young
woman, and would prove a valuable acquisition to the
select circle. Miss Wilmer understood the precise value
of this adulation, and declining all invitations from the
' best' as well as the second best people, busied herself
preparing for the wedding.
"On the appointed day the ceremony was performed in
the church, in the presence of an admiring, jealous, ex¬
cited crowd of ladies from the whole country round. That
evening Wylie gave a tremendous reception at his house,
at which everybody was present, and he clearly demon¬
strated that he was the happiest man in the country.
This is the anniversary of that wedding, and the enter¬
tainment is given in their honour. Mrs. Wylie bears
326 MISS WILMER 'S ADVENTURE.
upon her arm the indelible marks of the suffering she
endured upon the night of that terrible adventure, and
if you will come downstairs, I will introduce you to her,
and you will observe that she will offer you her left hand ;
and that's the whole story of the adventure of Miss
Wilmer, the Wington heroine."
Catet's Carbolic Tooth Powder.
Extract Copy of a Letter from NEWTON CRANE, Esq., United
States Consul, Manchester.
" * * * Your Carbolic Tooth Powder is THE EES TIE VER
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45. Prudence Palfrey. By T. B. Aldrtch.
46. A Peep at Number Five. By H. Trusta.
47. Maijorie's Quest. By Jeannie T. Gould.
48. Our Village : Country Pictures. By Miss Mitford.
1 49. Woman Our Angel. Sequel to " Looking Round."
50. How Marjory Helped. By M. Carroll.
51. Mabel Vaughan. By the Author of "The Lamplighter."
52. Melbourne House. By Author of " The Wide, Wide World."
53. Father Clement. By Grace Kennedy.
54. Dunallan. By Grace Kennedy.
55. From Jest to Earnest. By Rev. E. P. Roe.
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1. The Autobiography of a £5 Note. By Mrs. J. B. Webb.
2. Zenon, the Roman Martyr. By the Rev. R. Cobbold, Author
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3. The Pilgrims of New England. By Mrs. J. B. Webb.
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5. The History of the Fairohild Family. By Mrs. Sherwood.
6. Sceptres and Crowns. By Author of "The Wide, Wide World."
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9. The Mysterious Marriage ; or, Sir Edward Graham. By
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10. Jane Bouverie, and How She became an Old Maid. By Ditto.
11. Modern Flirtations ; or, A Month at Harrowgate, By Ditto.
12. The Star and the Cloud. By A. S. Roe.
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4. Five Weeks in a Balloon. By Jules Verne.
5. The Mysterious Document. By Jules Verne.
6. On the Track. By Jules Verne.
7. Among the Cannibals. By Jules Verne.
8. Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. By Jules Verne.
Part I.
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10. Two Years Before the Mast. By R. H. Dana.
11. From the Earth to the Moon. By Jules Verne.
12. Round the Moon. By Jules Verne.
13. History of Sandford and Merton. By Thomas Day.
14. Baron Munchausen (The Life, Travels, and Extraordinary
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of " Out of Court," &c.
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*»* The capital Coloured Plates render the Eighteenpenny Edition of The
Englishwoman's Cookery Book absolutely unapproachable in point of excel¬
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and Arbitrations.
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BEETON'S BOOK OP BIRDS; showing How to Rear and
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*t* This volume contains upwards of One Hundred Engravings and Six ex¬
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16. Wild Animals in Freedom and Captivity.
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numerous Synonyms, carefully discriminated by Chauncey A. Goodrich, D.D.,
Professor in Yale College. To which are added, " Walker's Key " to the Pronun¬
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j 4. Cobbett's Advice to Young Men.
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ping Heavenward," &c.
6. How to Make a Living. By George Cary Eggleston.
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j " A most valuable epitome of the art of maintaining"' a healthy mind In a healthy body;
I written by one who spoke with authority, from the experiences of along, active, and useful
j career."—Translated from the celebrated work of HUFELAND.
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I 9. Getting On in the World. Second Series. By William
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told in Verse, &c. With 94 Illustrations.
2. BEETON'S PICTORIAL SPELLING- BOOK. 24 pp.
Comprising Easy Words of Two Letters'to Words of Seven Syllables. 43
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3. EEETON'S PICTORIAL PRIMER AND EASY WORD
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from Words of Two to Six Letters. 78 Illustrations.
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Character. 21 Illustrations.
5. BEETON'S PICTORIAL HISTORY OF ENGLAND.
28 pp. Comprising Lessons about English Kings, Chronologically Ar¬
ranged. Also List of the Kings and Queens of England, with the Dates
when their Reign began and ended. 46 Illustrations.
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[ of the Apostles. 39 Illustrations.
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public at so small a price as One Shilling each.
1. Domestic Animals.
2, Home and Field Animals.
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*7. Adventures with Animals.
*8. The Picture Robinson Crusoe.
*9. The Children's Household
Pets.
*10. The Children's Picture Alpha¬
bet.
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*14. A B C of Pretty Country
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*15. The Nursery Picture Gallery,
and Child's Own Picture Colour
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*16. Master Mouse's Supper Party.
With most Amusing Illustrations,
in Kronheim's best style.
*17. Amusing Mazes. A Set of
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Little Red Riding-Hood. New
Pictures.
Little Alfred's Visit to Womb-
well's Menagerie.
20. The Little Chatterbox. Designs
by Frolich. Eight Engravings in
Colours.
21. MasterTom'sTransformation.
Designs by Frolich. Sixteen En¬
gravings in Colours.
*18.
'19.
22. Master Caesar. Designs by
Frolich. 12 Engravings in Colours.
23. Master Hector's Adventure.
Designs by Frolich. Eight En¬
gravings in Colours.
*24. Puss in Boots.
*25. The Discontented Boy;
The Story of Simon Simple.
*26. Mamma's New Picture Alpha
bet.
*27. The A B C of Brave Deeds.
*28. The Holiday Alphabet.
*29. The A B C of Animal Life.
*30. The Fairy Well, or, The Little
Brother and Sister.
*3i. Miss Mousie's Wedding and
Ball.
32. The Nursery Artist ; or. The
Little Picture Maker. 1st series.
33. 2nd series.
34. 3rd series.
35. 4th series.
36. How to Make a Picture Book;
or, Nursery Puzzle Tales.
'37 Nursery Rhymes and Rig¬
maroles.
38 The Three Friends o! Man.
39 Animals and their Uses.
40. The Alphabet of Favourite
Animals.
41. The A B C of Nursery Rhymes.
42. Cock Robin.
Those marked * are Mounted on strong Cloth, is. each.
This unparalleled Series of Toy Books contains exquisite Coloured Pictures
which will alone commend them to every Household. _ The subjects will please
every child, and the variety shown by the titles is sufficient for every taste-.
EASY STEPS FOR LITTLE LEARNERS. With Pretty
Pictures. 8vo, cloth, if. 6d.
New Edition.
CHILD'S FIRST BOOK OF NATURAL HISTORY. With
numerous Illustrations. Cloth, as.
New Books and New Editions.
ENTIRELY NEW EDITIONS.
Jltttorsen'* Jfairg
Fairy Tales. By Hans Christian Andersen. With 100 Illus¬
trations and Fourteen Coloured Pictures, and Life of the Author. In one hand¬
some Volume, demy Svo, cloth gilt, js. 6d.
Andersen's Popular Tales for Children. With many full-page and
other Illustrations. Crown Svo, cloth gilt, 3s. 6d.; with Coloured Illustrations,
cloth gilt, gilt edges, 5.1.
Andersen's Stories for the Young. With many full-page and
other Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 35. 6d.; with Coloured Illustrations,
cloth gilt, gilt edges, 51.
The Hans Andersen's Story Books for the Young
Fcap. 8vo, cloth gilt, is.
5. The Little Mer¬
maid.
6. TheSilver Shilling.
7. The Snow Queen.
8. The Ice Maiden.
1. TheChristmasTree.
2. The Garden of Pa¬
radise.
3. The Willow Tree.
4. The Silent Book.
9. Little Ida's
Flowers.
10. Little Tuk.
11. What the Moon
Saw.
BOOKS ON ETIQUETTE AND POLITENESS.
The Manners of Polite Society. Complete Etiquette for Ladies
Gentlemen, and Families. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 3s. 6d.
THE SHILLING ETIQUETTE BOOKS.
1. The Complete Etiquette for Gentlemen.
2. The Complete Etiquette for Ladies.
3. The Complete Family Etiquette.
MRS. WARREN ON COOKERY.
The Sixpenny Economical Cookery Book, for Housewives, Cooks,
and Maids of all Work. With Advice to Mistress and Servant. By Mrs.
Warren.
Now Ready.
Love Lyrics. A Book of Valentine Verses for Young and Old.
Containing Sentimental and Satirical Valentines, Birthday Greetings, Valentines
for Children, &c. 64 full-page and many other Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth
gilt. S-t-
Entirely New and Revised Edition.—Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, $s.
Captain Crawley's Handy-Book of Games for Gentlemen.
Billiards. I Ecarte. I Whist. I Cribbage.
Bagatelle. Draughts. Euchre. Bezique.
Chess. | Backgammon. | Loo. | Drole.
^ And all the Round Games.
Published by Ward, Lock, and Co.
Ward, Look, & Co.'s Humorous Books.
In Picture Wrapper, One Shilling each.
*„* There is but little call to laud the men who have written the books catalogued below.
They have done good work—work that needs no bush; and mankind is under obligations to
them for a large sum-total of enjoyment. It will be a long day before we, in England, forget
the names of Thomas Hood and Douglas Jerrold; and from America we hail, as exponents
of genuine and special humour, Artemus Ward, J. R. Lowell. Bret Ilarte, Charles Dudlejj
Warner, Mark Twain, and John Habberton, all of whose writings will be found included in
the following list—a various and entertaining company of genial jesters and merry penmen.
2. Artemus Ward: His Boob.
3. Riddles. Illustrated.
4. Burlesques. Illustrated.
5. Charades. Illustiated.
6. Biglow Papers. By J. E. Lowell.
7. Saxe's Poems.
8. Joe Miller's Jest Book.
9. Connubial Bliss. By Doughty.
16. PusleyJ or, My Summer in a Gar¬
den. By Chas. Dudley Warner.
17. Back-Log Studies. C. D. War¬
ner.
18. Sandy Bar. By Bret Harte.
19. Roaring Camp. By Bret Harte.
20. Heathen Chinee. By Bret Harte.
21. Wit & Humour. Thomas Hood.
22. Whims. By Thomas Hood.
23. Oddities. By Thomas Hood.
24. Innocents Abroad. MarlcTwain.
25. The New Pilgrim's Progress.
By Mark Twain.
26. Jokes and Wit. Douglas Jerrold.
29. Jumping Prog. By Mark Twain.
30. Letters to Punch. By Artemus
Ward.
31. Artemus Ward among the
Mormons.
32. Naughty Jemima. Illustrated.
33. Eye Openers. By Mark Twain.
34. Practical Jokes. By Mark Twain.
35. Screamers. By Mark Twain.
36. Awful Crammers. By Titus A.
Brick.
37. Babies and Ladders, by Ema¬
nuel Kink, and Artemus Ward
among the Fenians.
38. Holmes' Wit and Humour.
39. Josh Billings : His sayings.
40. Danbury Newsman. By J. M.
Bailey.
41. Mystery of Mr. E. Drood. By
Orpheus O. Kerr.
42. Shaving Them. Titus A. Brick.
43. Mr. Brown on the Goings-on
of Mrs, Brown.
44. Sensation Novels. Bret Harte.
4.5. Little Breeches.
46. Mr. Sprouts : His Opinions.
48. Ra,ms bottom Papers. T. Hook,
49. Major Jack Downing.
50. The Pagan Child, and other
Sketches. By Bret Harte.
51. Helen's Babies. By John Hab-
berton.
52. The Barton Experiment.
Author of "Helen's Babies."
53. The Mississippi Pilot. By Mark
Twain.
54. Jericho Road. Author of " Helen's
Babies."
55. Some Other Babies, very like
Helen's, only more so.
56. Story of a Honeymoon. Eoss.
57. That Dreadful Boy Trotty.
By E. Stuart Phelps.
58. Hans Breitmann's Ballads.
By J. G. Leland.
59. Other People's Children. Se¬
quel to an t by the Author of
"Helen's Babies." Illustrated. -
60. Cent per Cent. By Blanchard Jer¬
rold.
61. That Husband of Mine.
62. Two Men of Sandy Bar. Bret
Harte.
63. Grown up Babies. Illustrated.
By the Author of " Helen's Babies."
64. Other People. Illustrated. By the
Author of " Helen's Babies."
65. Polks in Danbury. By J. M.
Bailey.
66. MyWife'sRelations.ByH.Frith.
67. My Mother-in-Law.
68. Babbleton's Baby.
69. Scripture Club of Valley
Rest. Author of "Helen's Babies."
70. That Girl of Mine.
71. Bessie's Six Lovers,
London: WARD, LOOK, & CO., Warwick House, Dorset Buildings»
Salisbury Square, E.C.
THE
STANDARD COOKERY BOOKS
Which far surpass all others, and of which the aggregate sale has
exceeded ONE MILLION COPIES.
The recognized merits of Mrs. Beton's Cookery Books render unnecessary
any declaration of their daily usefulness and general applicability,
THREE HUNDRED AND FIRST THOUSAND.
Post 8vo, half-bound, -js. 6d. ; cloth gilt, gilt edges, 8r. 6d. ; half-calf, ios. 6d.
Mrs. BEETON'S BOOK 0-F HOUSEHOLD MANAGEMENT.
Comprising every kind of Practical Information on Domestic
7q fid Economy and Modern Cookery. Illustrated with Coloured Plates
/ Q, UUw and Six Hundred Engravings. Containing nearly 3,000 R9Cip8S
and Instructions—Duties of the Mistress—Duties of the House¬
keeper-Arrangement and Economy of the Kitchen—Directions for Carving—
The Rearing, Management, and Diseases of Infancy and Childhood—The
Doctor—Legal Memoranda—Domestic Servants, &c. Added to each Recipe is
the Time the Cooking will occupy, the period at which it is Seasonable, its Average
Cost, and the Number of Persons for whom it is sufficient. There are also 250
Bills of Fare for Dinners, Ball Suppers, Breakfasts, Luncheons, &c., &c.
<l A volume which will be, for many years to come, a treasure to be made
much of in every English household, and which is a compilation that deserves
to have our very best word with every English ?natron, young or old. It is an
Encyclopa'dia of family matters, which will not often be referred to in vain,
and the easy arrangement of which will at once win the hearts of all its
female consulters. Mrs. Beeton has earned for herself by this volume, a
household reputation and a name."—Standard.
•t ' Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, price 3s. 6d.
Mrs. BEETON'S EVERY-DAY COOKERY AND H0USE-
q /->_/ KEEPING BOOK. Comprising Instructions for Mistresses
(jS. bClt an<I Servants, and a Collection of over 1,500 Practical Recipes.
With Hundreds of Engravings, and 104 Coloured Plates, showing
the Modern Mode of sending Dishes to Table.
Sixty-ninth Thousand. Crown 8vo, cloth, 2s.; cloth gilt, 2s. 6d.
Mrs. BEETON'S ALL ABOUT COOKERY. A Collection
f, /-> 1 of Practical Recipes arranged in Alphabetical Order, and fully
ASt but Illustrated. Containing also Bills of Fare, Things in Season, and
Plain Family Dinners for each Month in the Year, Instructions
in Carving, Average Cost, &c.
Two Hundred and Eightieth Thousand, strongly hound in cloth, price is,;
with Coloured Plates, is. 6d.
Is. 6dt Mrs. BEETON'S ENGLISHWOMAN'S
Coloured Plates. COOKERY BOOK. Comprising Recipes in all
■Jq Branches of Cookery, and accurate Descriptions of
' o>» Quantities, Times, Costs, and Seasons, for the various
Without Coloured Dishes. Amply Illustrated.
Plates. ft
Post free for Three-Halfpence. 310th Thousand.
BEETON'S PENNY COOKERY BOOK. Being useful
"IrJ Recipes for Good Breakfasts, Dinners, and Suppers, at a cost
/ Of. varying from Tenpence to Two Shillings a Day for Six Persons.
London: WARD, LOOK & CO., Warwick House, Salisbury Square, E.O.
BEETHAM'S CORN & BUNION PLASTER/
This marvellous Plaster allays all pain and thoroughly removes
long standing Corns, Bunions, Callosities, Hard Tumours, Car¬
buncles, Boils, and wonderfully reduces Swellings of the Great
Toe Joint. Many thousands of Testimonials have been received
during the last 30 years from sufferers, many of whom had
suffered from 3 to 50 years.
Boxes, i/i£ and 2/9, equal to 3 small; free: for 14 and 34
stamps, by the Proprietors, M. BEETHAM & SON, Medical Hall,
Promenade, Cheltenham. London Agents'—SANGER, 150, Oxford
Street; BUTLER & CRISP, Cheapside ; and all Chemists.
Price, 2s. each, boards) cloth gilt, 2s. 6d. j gilt edges, 3s. 6d.
With full-page and other Illustrations.
The Boys' Illustrated Library
of
HEROES, PATRIOTS, AND PIONEERS.
The Story of their Daring Adventures and Heroic Deeds,
The Biographies of Illustrious Men whose courage, skill, and enterprise, have
been the foundation of Great States, and whose wisdom and patriotism have con¬
solidated and strengthened national power, must be interesting to young minds which
delight in records of adventure and bravery, and Great Deeds in Camp and
Council.
In this series Biographies are narrated, exhibiting the force of character of the
men and the remarkable adventures they encountered ; and these records can
scarcely be perused without exciting a feeling of admiration for the Heroes, and of
wonder at the magnitude of their achievements.
1. Columbus, the Discoverer of the New World.
2. Franklin, Printer Boy, Statesman, and Philosopher.
3. Washington, Hero and Patriot.
4. The Puritan Captain ; or the Story of Miles Standish.
5. Boone, the Backwoodsman, the Pioneer of Kentucky.
6. The Terror of the Indians ; or, Life in the Backwoods.
7. The Hero of the Prairies ; or, the Story of Kit Carson.
8. The Spanish Cavalier ; or, De Sotto, the Discoverer.
9. Through Prairie and Forest ; or, De Salle, the Pathfinder.
10. The Shawnee Prophet; or, the Story of Tecumseh.
11. The Buccaneer Chiefs ; or, Captain Kidd, and the Pirates of
America.
London : Ward, Lock, & Co., Warwick House,
Dorset Buildings, Salisbury Square, E.C.
SEVEN PRIZE MEDALS AWARDED,
Goodall's World-renowned
household specialities.
goodall's baking powder,
The Best in the World, id. Packets; 6d., is., 2s.,
and 5 s. Tins.
goodall's yorkshire relish,
The most Delicious Sauce in the World. Bottles,
6d., is., and 2s. each.
goodall's quinine wine,
The Best Tonic yet introduced. Bottles, is.,
is. ijd., 2s., and 2s. 3d. each.
goodall's custard powder,
For making delicious Custards without eggs in less time
and at half the price. Boxes, 6d. and is.
Sold by Grocers, Chemists, Oilmen, fyc.
prepared by
GOODALL, BACKHOUSE & Co., Leeds.
DR. ROOKE'S
Anti-Lancet.
AH "ho wish to preserve health and thus prolong life, should read Da. Rookb'S
■tlNTI-L \NCET, or HANDY GUIDE TO DOMESTIC MEDICINE, which can
be ' GRATIS from any Chemist, or POST F REE from Dr. Books, Scarborough.
Conct ring this book, which contains 168 pages, the late eminent author, Sheridan
Knowles, observed:—" It will be an incalculable boon to every per ion fho can read
a- d think."
CROSBY'S
BALSAMIC
Sough Elixir.
OPIATES, NARCOTICS, and SQUILLS are too often invoked to give relief In
COUGHS, COLDS, an 1 all PULMONARY DISEASES. Instead of such fallacious
remedies, which yield momentary relief at the expense of enfeebling the d.gestive
organs, and thus increasing Ou t hi'"/ whi< li lies at the root of the malady,
modern science points to CROSBY'S BALSAMIC COUGH ELIXIR as the "rue
emedy.
BK. EOOEE's TESTIMONIAL
D">. Rooke, Scarborough, author of the " Anti-lancet," says:—■" I have
repeatedly observed how very rapidly and invariably it subdued Cough, Pain, and
Irritation of the Chest in cases of Pulmonary Consumption ; and I can, with the
greatest confidence, recommend it as a most valuable adjunct to an otherwise
strengthening treatment for this disease."
Ti.-s ccdic'ne. which is free from opium and squills, not oniy allays the local
ir.itati: i, but improves digestion and ^strengthens the constitution. Hence it Is
used wi b the most sip ■ - s in
ASTHMA, . COUG ;s,
BRONCHITIS. U-' ENv
"ON -T'M dTION, -s.. IT
CONSUL!. TIVE NIGH- SW*?\TS, and a>: A us of the T) ■<- -t am." Ghest
Sold in Bottles, at li. 9d.. 4s. 6'' d lli. each, 6" a respect ible Chemists and auuaalt
by J A I ICS M. CROSBY, C eniut, Scarborough.
V Invalids should read Crosby's Prize Treatise on " DISEASES OF THE
LUNGS AND AIR VESSELS," a copy of which can be had Gratis of all Chemists.
«