WOODCRAFT; 
 
 OR, 
 
 HAWKS ABOUT THE DOVECOTE. 
 
 A Story of the South at tlje Close of the Revolution, 
 
 BY W. GILMORE SIMMS, 
 
 AUTHOR or "THE PARTISAN," "MELLICHAMPE," "KATHARINE 
 
 " THE SCOUT, 1 " THE YEMASSEE," " GUY RIVERS," ETC. 
 
 DONOHUE, HENNEBERRY & CO- 
 
 407-425 DEARBORN STREET 
 1890 
 
DONOHUE & HENNEBERRY, 
 
 PRINTERS AND BINDERS, 
 CHICAGO. 
 
PS 2 
 
 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A BRAVE WIDOW. 
 
 THE provisional articles of peace, between the King of Great 
 Britain, and the revolted colonies of America, were signed at 
 Paris, on the 13th November, 1782. The British forces in 
 Charleston, South Carolina, prepared to abandon that city early 
 in the following December. The event took place on the 14th 
 of th.it month. Prior to this, period, the enemy had been con 
 fined to the immediate precincts of the garrison. The gradually 
 contracting arms of the Americans had established a cordon about 
 them, which they had found it impossible to break ; and the rival 
 armies, the one unable to take the field, and the other too feeble 
 to force the garrison, lay watching each other, like a couple of 
 grim tigers, who have learned, by frequent combats, to regard 
 their opponents with respect, if not affection. Both were ex 
 hausted. Exhaustion, not wisdom, or a better state of feeling, 
 was the secret of the peace which was finally concluded between 
 the two nations, and of which, South Carolina, and Charleston 
 in particular, was eagerly expecting the benefits. For more 
 than two years this region was in full, or in partial keeping, of 
 the enemy. The days had been counted by skirmishes and bat 
 tles, by fears, hates, anxieties, persecution, and blood. The time 
 for repose was at hand. Peace was agreed upon ; the British 
 army was about to evacuate the city ; the Americans were crowd 
 ing about their outposts, eager to come in. Meanwhile conimis- 
 
6 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 sioners from botli were in the city, preparing for a peaceable 
 restoration of prisoners, chattels, and soil. There was much to 
 be re-delivered, which irked the stomach of the British captor, 
 and his allies among the loyalists. The latter had many fears 
 of meeting with their ancient brethren. Both the British and 
 themselves had much plunder which it was becoming difficult to 
 make away with. The American commissioners were particu 
 larly solicitous in respect to this matter. South Carolina had 
 already lost twenty-five thousand slaves, which British philan 
 thropy had transferred from the rice-fields of Carolina, to the 
 sugar estates of the West India Islands ; and there were yet 
 other thousands waiting to be similarly transported. But how 
 o conceal them from the lynx eyes of the commissioners, who 
 were studiously attentive to the mode of fitting up the transport- 
 ships, and their accommodations provided for passengers ; and 
 especially heedful that they were not too much crowded with 
 the black, for the comfort of the white inhabitants. Such vigi 
 lance was the subject of much soreness on the part of those who 
 exercised their charities for the African race, without desiring to 
 give their labors any unnecessary publicity. The anxieties <f 
 the one party, and the vigilance of the other, were duly increased 
 as the moment drew nigh for the exodus of the British. 
 
 It was but three days from this event, when Colonel Mon- 
 crieff, of the latter whose philanthropy on behalf of the blacks 
 had been exercised on a most extensive scale was surprised by 
 an unexpected visitor. We may add, an unwelcome one. He 
 was sitting in his office, books and paper around him, swords 
 upon the wall, pistols among papers upon the table, and with 
 but one companion. This was a person of rusty complexion, 
 sharp visage, small bulbous-shaped nose, a low, broad forehead, 
 and sinister expression of mouth and eyes. The latter were of 
 a light grey, keen rather than bright, and significant of cunning 
 rather than character. 
 
 These two persons appeared to be busy in long details, figured 
 out on several sheets of paper, and a confused array of arithmet 
 ical propositions. But there seemed no difficulty between them ; 
 the business, which equally interested both, seemed mutually 
 satisfactory. Over some of the details they chuckled pleasantly. 
 They were thus employed, when the door was suddenly thrown 
 
open, and a white servant, partly in military nabit, appeared at 
 t.he entrance. 
 
 " Well, Waldron," said Moncrieff, scarcely looking up, " what 
 now ?" 
 
 " A lady, sir." 
 
 " A lady 1 Who, pray ? What s her name ? 
 
 "Didn t tell me, sir is here the lady says she must see 
 you." 
 
 " Well, if a lady says she must see me, the necessity is hardly 
 to be escaped, I suppose. Show her. in." 
 
 The servant stepped back, and the lady entered a fair and 
 comely dame, scarcely forty, with a fresh, healthy expression, a 
 bright, cherry blue eye, a SAveet, intelligent mouth, as indicative 
 of character as of beauty, and a frank, buoyant expression of 
 countenance. Her figure was tall, yet somewhat inclined to 
 fmltonjwint, though her carriage was equally dignified and grace 
 ful. The gentlemen rose promptly at her entrance. Moncrieff 
 advanced politely and handed her a chair, which she took with 
 a quiet ease and promptness that showed her to be accustomed 
 to society. 
 
 Moncrieff was evidently and immediately impressed by her 
 presence. It was quite apparent, however, that she was entirely 
 unknown to him. Not so with his companion, whose visage put 
 on a look of blank dissatisfaction at the moment of her entrance, 
 which at once dispersed the smiles that had mantled it only a 
 moment before. But neither of the other persons in the room 
 seemed to notice his disquiet. He drew apart, and went toward 
 one of the windows, but kept his eye upon the two, with an 
 oblique glance eminently his own ; and his ears were keenly 
 alive to what was spoken. 
 
 "May I have the honor, madam, of serving you?" was the 
 question of Moncrieff, with all the courtesy proper to an officer 
 in his Britannic majesty s service. The answer was prompt. In 
 a clear, frank, musical voice, the lady said 
 
 " I bring you, sir, a billet from his excellency, General Les 
 lie, which will fully explain my business. My name is Eveleigh, 
 the widow of the late Major Eveleigh, who once held the office 
 in your army that you now hold." 
 
 " I remember, madam ; I h.ad not the pleasure of knowing 
 
8 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 Majir JiiVelcigh personally, but liis rank and character are fully 
 known to me." 
 
 " Here, sir, is General Leslie s letter." 
 
 She took it from her bag, and handed it as she spoke. The 
 1 row of Colonel Moncrieff clouded as he read. 
 
 " You will perceive sir," said the lady, " that his excellency, 
 (li iieral Leslie, requests you to see that certain negroes be re 
 stored to me, my property, which are now within the garrison 
 their names are in this paper, and a description of them individ 
 ually, by which they may each be identified." 
 
 Moncrieff read the second paper with increasing gravity of as 
 pect. His male companion crossed the floor to him, and looked 
 over the paper as he read. The widow Eveleigh observed the 
 movement and the man with some interest. After" a few 
 moments, Moncrieff, with something of annoyance in his tone, 
 remarked 
 
 " Why, madam, it is very doubtful if there be any such slaves 
 within the garrison. You are aware that we have been deliver 
 ing them up, as fast as they can be found, to the American com 
 missioners. They may be concealed " 
 
 " They are concealed," answered the lady. 
 
 " If that be the case, Mrs. Eveleigh," answered the other, with 
 a soothing smile, " we must try and find them for you. We 
 shall institute a thorough search, and should they be found, they 
 shall be delivered to the commissioners." 
 
 " I thank you, sir ; but something of this trouble may be 
 spared you ; and I should prefer as the ownership of the prop 
 erty is unquestionably in me, as I have satisfied General Leslie 
 that they be delivered to myself." 
 
 " That, too, my dear madam, I cheerfully promise, should we 
 find them." 
 
 " It is the trouble of this search, sir, that I would spare you. 
 I have already found them." 
 
 " The devil you have, madam ?" cried Moncrieff, starting to 
 his feet, and evidently disquieted "and where, pray?" 
 
 " In the old hulk, sir, at Market dock, in company with some two 
 hundred others, upon whom I have no claim, but who, I have no 
 doubt, will find claimants fast enough if they be once exposed on 
 the wharf to tlie examination of the American commissioners." 
 
A BRAVE WIDOW. 9 
 
 " Pon my soul, madam, for a whig- American, you calculate 
 largely upon the generosity of liis majesty s government." 
 
 " Very far from it, Colonel MoncriefF. I calculate nothing at 
 all upon the generosity of his majesty s government. My cal 
 dilations arc all based upon what seems the necessity of the 
 case, and the policy, which his majesty s officers seem generally 
 to recognise, of performing the condition of the treaty in good 
 laith. You speak of me, sir, as an American and a whig. I 
 am not ashamed to say that I am botli ; but remembering that 
 my late husband was a good loyalist, and a faithful and trusted 
 officer in his majesty s service, I have forborne, Avith a due 
 regard to his memory, from taking any active part in this contest. 
 On this subject, however, General Leslie has been long quite 
 satisfied. I feel proud that I may number him among my 
 friends. You have read his letter it appears to me that noth 
 ing more is necessary to be said." 
 
 " Well, madam, allowing all this, it appears to me that what 
 is expected of us, is the delivery, to the rebel commissioners, of 
 all the negroes claimed as fugitives " 
 
 " Let me interrupt you, Colonel MoncriefF. The commission 
 ers are employed only to represent the absent. I am here pres 
 ent. I can identify my negroes I have done so and now I 
 demand of you their redelivery." 
 
 " But, why of me, madam ?" 
 
 " For the best of reasons, sir. They are entered in the hulk- 
 book in your name." 
 
 " The devil they are, madam !" 
 
 "I forgive your irreverence/Colonel MoncriefF, to myself; 
 but regret that your tone should be so disrespectful to his Sata 
 nic majesty." 
 
 MoncriefF could not forbear a laugh. 
 
 " Begad, madam, you have me ! By what names d* you dis 
 tinguish these negro subjects of yours ?" 
 
 " Here is the list; they have been identified by my over 
 seer as well as myself." 
 
 " But, madam, I am somewhat curious pray how did you 
 yet, no matter ! You say, Mrs. Eveleigh, that you have, your 
 self, seen these negroes at the hulk ?" 
 
 " J have, sir ai?d spoken with them." 
 
 1* 
 
10 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 " Then there can be no doubt ! But " Here lie paused, 
 looked hurriedly over a pile of memoranda before him, bit the 
 tip of his goose quill, and seemed, for a few moments, to medi 
 tate ; then turning to his former companion, he said 
 
 " M Kewn, I must confer with you. Will Mrs. Eveleigh ex 
 cuse me for a few moments ?" 
 
 The lady bowed her head, and the two gentlemen left the 
 apartment. The brave widow was left alone. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE WIDOW MAKES SOME DISCOVERIES. 
 
 "M KEWN !" said the lady in an under tone. She appeared 
 to muse for awhile. Then, looking up, her eyes seemed to be 
 come interested in the furniture of the apartment, which, as it 
 was that of a military bachelor, was somewhat curious and con 
 tradictory in its character. The floor of the room was cumbered 
 with chests, trunks and boxes. The walls were hung with 
 pistols and sabres. Interspersed among these, were sundry 
 articles of unmentionable clothing, to say nothing of military, 
 parade, service and undress coats; MoncriefF was something 
 of a carpet-knight. Great boots lay sprawling beneath the 
 table. An elegant chapeau Iras rested ffpon it ; and, in near 
 neighborhood, protruding from beneath a pile of papers, was a 
 pair of pistols of extraordinary beauty and finish. 
 
 The widow possessed some rather curious tastes for a lady. 
 She rose, took up the pistols, and examined them without any 
 of that shuddering feeling which most ladies would exhibit at 
 the contemplation of such implements. They might well at 
 tract the attention of a person not an amateur. The weapons 
 of that day were of much more curious and costly workmanship 
 than ours. There was an antique richness in the ornaments of 
 the pistols which was calculated to gratify the eye. The stocks 
 were quaintly inlaid with fleurs dc Us and vines, done in filagree 
 of variegated gold. The butts were capped with gold, in the 
 
THE WIDOW MAKES SOME DISCOVERIES. 11 
 
 centre of which was an elaborately-wrought eye, with a small 
 amethyst forming the pupil. The barrels were plain, but ex 
 quisitely polished. They were of rifle-bore the duelling pis 
 tol in fact a weapon more in use then than now, and in t!ie 
 workmanship of which much more care and ornament were 
 expended. 
 
 The inspection of these beautiful tools of murder seemed to 
 afford considerable interest to our widow. She finally laid them 
 down in their places. As she did so, her eye was arrested by 
 a paper which lay open beside the weapons. Her own name 
 caught her glance. She uttered a slight ejaculation of surprise, 
 and caught up the paper, which was one of those enormous 
 sheets of dingy foolscap which were in common use at that 
 period. Her interest increased as she examined the writing, 
 and she felt justified in reading it. It afforded her some curious 
 intelligence in regard to the very business in which she was 
 engaged ; containing, in fact, a long catalogue of names, evi 
 dently those of slaves Sam, Tom, Peter, Dick, Pomp, Ciuljoe, 
 Dembo, Gush, Binah, Bess, Bathsheba, and a hundred more 
 and all parcelled off in sections, embraced in brackets, opposite 
 to each of which were the names, also, of their respective 
 owners. To some, the names of places, or estates, were ap 
 pended. There she beheld her own name in connection with 
 the slaves she claimed. There was something further. A 
 memorandum, against each column, contained a reference to the 
 source from which they had been obtained. She read the name 
 of " M Kewn" as that of the person who had put her negroes in 
 possession of Moncrieff. There was Moncrieff s acknowledg 
 ment and signature. There were M Kewn s memoranda with 
 Ms own handwriting, as she supposed, and rightly ; and other 
 matters, all in detail, which she saw, in a moment, comprised 
 a large body of conclusive testimony that might be very 
 useful. 
 
 This, then, was the document which the British colonel and 
 his companion had been studying when she came in. She laid 
 the paper down in its place. But her lips became rigid with 
 resolution. She hastily seized the paper and folded it. 
 
 " I am dealing," she said to herself, " with enemies. This 
 document may become necessary yet to secure my property. 
 
12 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 The villains ! Shall I scruple when I am in such hands ? Shall 
 I suffer them to defraud my son of his rights, when it is in my 
 power to prevent them ] Away with such childish scruples. It 
 is war between us, perhaps, and I owe them no courtesies, no 
 forbearance." 
 
 She put the paper into her pocket. 
 
 " M Kewn ! M Kewn !" she muttered. " Where have I heard 
 that name before 1 
 
 She heard footsteps approaching from without, and hastily 
 resumed her seat and her composure. Her face on the instant 
 became one of singular calm and simplicity. She was a woman 
 evidently of equal good sense and nerve, and seemed totally 
 unconcerned and unemployed, as the outer door was thrown 
 open. The orderly, Waldron, again made his appearance, fol 
 lowed by another person. He looked about the room for his 
 superior. 
 
 " He is not here the colonel?" he remarked inquiringly. 
 
 " He is within," answered the widow, pointing to the chamber 
 to which Moncrief and M Kcwn had retired. As she spoke, she 
 observed that the person who followed Waldron, started, and 
 seemed disposed to retire. Her eye quickened with intelli 
 gence, but she ceased to look at the new party. A single 
 glance had sufficed. Waldron advanced, calling to his compan 
 ion to follow. 
 
 " Come this way," said the orderly. The person addressed, 
 hesitated for a moment, then, rapidly moving to the side of 
 Waldron, put him between himself and ^;he widow. They 
 crossed the room together, and, without reserve, entered the in 
 ner apartment, the door of which they closed behind them. 
 Mrs. Eveleigh followed them with a careless but intelligent 
 glance. When they had passed from sight, she muttered 
 
 " I see it now ! Bostwick has been the creature of M Kewn 
 in this business, as M Kewn is the creature of Moncrieff. The 
 ungrateful wretch; and I have fed his family for years; his 
 wife and child when they were sick and starving. Oh ! what 
 a frightful, fiendish thing is poverty, when it is linked with in 
 gratitude !" 
 
 The widow had discovered, in the new-comer, the squatter on 
 a plantation which adjoined her own. The single glance which 
 
he had given him, had suiikvd to identify him; and J:v \\.-is 
 too circumspect to allow liiin to pen-eivo that she had made rlia 
 discovery. She was satisfied to look no further. Jiis slight 
 form, sidelong gait, low, swarthy features, -aid long black hail, 
 which hung down heavily upon his cheeks and shoulders, were 
 not to be mistaken. She smiled sadly as she mused upon the 
 ingratitude, which had been fed at her hands without thanks, 
 and which had robbed her of her property without remorse. 
 Let us leave her for a while, and become parties in the confer 
 ence between Moncrieff and M Kewn. 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 1OGUES IN CONFERENCE. 
 
 " Tins is a d d awkward business, M Kewn !" 
 
 "What s to lie done ?" said the person addressed, in ra.her 
 sullen acceiits. 
 
 "Ay, what . That s the question," answered Moncrieff; " I 
 s<f. no way to escape it, my good fellow. It robs us of some of 
 our profits." 
 
 "]>ut will you give up the negroes?" 
 
 " Kh ! to he sure! What else? Show me how it may be 
 rranairi d, saving me scot-free with old Leslie, who, though three 
 parts old woman, is yet a Tartar when you cross him and I m 
 lor n\\\ remedy. But it seems to me impossible." 
 
 "-Can t tf p et off the negroes, w bile you keep her in plav ?" 
 
 " Scarcely ! She has identified them, and found them on- 
 t"red iu my name. How the devil she has done this, ] can t 
 sec. Vi hat could that Hessian, Dort. have been about." 
 
 "lie, was drunk, I reckon! lie was the last man to l,,iv 
 he.en f i!:^ted with them. I feared it. Pmt, it strikes me thai 
 v\ e might run the negroes without committing you." 
 
 "How RO ? Remember, my honor as a "British officer " 
 
 " May !,e kept safely, if we can prove that they broke Hit of 
 keeping and took boat up the river." 
 
L4 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 Indeed ! Half a dozen negroes break away from a scom 
 cf Hessian guards " 
 
 " All being drunk." 
 
 "Unchain themselves secure a boat, and make their waj 
 up the rive; through a fleet of three hundred vessels of all sizes! 
 No ! no ! M Kewn ! That won t do ! Old Leslie is too shrewd 
 a soldier to listen to such a story. My answer would be an 
 arrest and a court of inquiry. You must think of something 
 better." 
 
 M Kewn remained sulkily silent. 
 
 " You are gravelled !" said the other. " So am I ! I do not 
 see but that we shall have to make a merit of necessity, and the 
 sooner we do so, the better. If we delay about it, we shall 
 have a host of other claimants ; and the danger will be, not only 
 (hat they will prove three hundred slaves in our keeping, bul 
 t;;at something will corne out showing how they came into our 
 keeping. You, for example, might be required to explain some 
 queer histories. My notion is, that we must yield handsomely 
 to the handsome widow a devilish fine looking woman, by the 
 way, with a head of her own ! and, by promptness in her case, 
 avoid the danger of other visiters. We must discharge her chat 
 tels, and transfer the rest to the Tartar before day, to-morrow 
 By the way, does this woman know you ?" 
 
 "I think not. Her husband did. I have seen her repeatedly, 
 and have been on her plantation. In fact, I am somewhat in 
 terested in an estate in her neighborhood. But this need not 
 concern us now. It is a matter of some concern with me, as 1 
 am to remain in the country, that she should not know me in 
 connection with this affair. I shall avoid showing myself when 
 you return to her." 
 
 " You see no means, then, of evading the surrender ?" 
 
 " None, but that already hinted." 
 
 "That is out of the question," said Moncrieff, rising. "I will 
 take the physic without wry faces. But, as soon as she goes, 
 .iO you see to the transfer to the Tartar. " 
 
 " It will be well, too," added M Kewn, " if you put them un 
 der some better keeper than that drunken Hessian." 
 
 " It shall be done. Well ! How now, Waldron ?" 
 
 At this moment, Waldron entered the room, followed by Host 
 
ROGUES IN CONFERENCE. 16 
 
 wick, the squatter. At his entrance, M Kewn looked disquieted, 
 Waldron was immediately dismissed. 
 
 " You here ?" said M Kewn to Bostwick. " Did you see the 
 lady?" 
 
 " The widow Eveleigh ? Yes !" 
 
 " Did she see you ?" 
 
 "Don t think! Jest as I caught the shine of her eyes,-! 
 dodged ahind the sargeant. Don t think she made me out at 
 all. Didn t look as ef she did." 
 
 " Do you know what she comes about ?" demanded Moncrieff. 
 
 " Reckon I does, colonel. She s been to the hulk and seed 
 the niggers herself." 
 
 " Remain here, both of you, till she is gone. Take care that 
 she sees no more of either of you. If she has made you out, 
 Master Bostwick, your best course will be to get into, his maj 
 esty s transport, as soon as you can, or she will hang you when 
 the rebels take possession here." 
 
 " She hain t seen me yit, I reckon," answered the squatter, 
 though a dubious expression darkened his swarthy visage as 
 he spoke. MoncriefF, meanwhile, proceeded, rather reluctantly, 
 though hurriedly, to give his answer to the widow s requisition. 
 M Kewn resumed the subject with Bostwick. 
 
 " That woman has eyes to see through a stone wall. Do you 
 think she got a glimpse of you at all ?" 
 
 " I seed her first, I reckon." 
 
 " You are not sure ?" 
 
 " No ! nobody s sure of nothing, no-how, it seems to me, in 
 this world," responded the squatter. 
 
 " Well ! Even if she did see you here, it would only prove 
 to the rebels that you were in bad company as well as myself. 
 [ have my excuse my reasons, for being here which, indeed, 
 would silence suspicion ; and you being seen with Moncrieff and 
 myself would only provoke suspicion, not confirm it. We must 
 be cautious, that s all." 
 
 " Well, now, look you, squire, there s no caution without 
 money, and I m mightily needing the article. I must have 
 some, i-ight away." 
 
 "Why, you had five guineas last week, Bostwick." 
 
 * I ve lived a week since, and fed and drank " 
 
16 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 " Ay, and got drunk upon food and drink. Five guineas 
 ought to last you a month, if you were a sober, prudent person." 
 
 " Look you, squire, I m too bad a fellow to be sober or pru 
 dent I ain t in love with myself, at all, when I m sober; and, 
 as for being what you call prudent, why, the thing s unreason 
 able. Ef I d been a prudent person, would you have seen me 
 here 1 Would I be doing for you all them dirty little trans 
 actions ?" 
 
 " Pshaw ! you re well enough -as you are." 
 
 " I reckon d you d say so. You ll let me have the five 
 guineas, squire V 1 
 
 " I suppose so for this time ; but the business is nearly done 
 up now, Bostwick. I do not see that we can be of much further 
 use to one another : and all that s to be done, is to close up the 
 old accounts. Don t you suppose that you re pretty well paid 
 up for the past V 
 
 " I don t know what you mean by being paid up. I ain t 
 any better off for all I ve done for you and him. You re pretty 
 rich, I reckon. I m as poor as a wood-rat." 
 
 " And whose fault ? You ve had money. Why didn t you 
 keep it ?" 
 
 "I ve had precious little, anyhow; and I had to live me 
 and my wife and children. What I ve got, always came by 
 driblets, and went as fast as it came." 
 
 " You talk of your wife and children, Bostwick, but I m think 
 ing they got but a small share of your money. You ve drunk it 
 up and gambled it away, and to keep you in money, when it 
 goes as fast as it comes, is clearly impossible." 
 
 " I must have it, that s sartain, squire," answered the other, 
 doggedly. " I ve been working mighty hard, and not at good 
 work neither, for a mighty long time. You ve got rich by my 
 labors. You and he" (meaning Moncrieff) " got all the niggers 
 more than two hundred, I reckon. If I had got for them nig 
 gers all of my bringing what they focht, or will fetch, to 
 you I d ha been as rich as any." 
 
 " Yes ! perhaps ! But without him and me, you could have 
 got nothing for them. He had the ships to carry them off, and 
 the king s stores to pay for them, and but for him you wouldn t 
 have had the price of the hair of a negro for your pains. Yor 
 
ROGUES IN CONFERENCE. 17 
 
 must not suppose that what you ve done could have been of any 
 nse but for us. Still, you have been paid, according to agree 
 ment. You ve had a good deal of money " 
 
 " In driblets, I say." 
 
 "And stores clothes " 
 
 " Yes, the king s stores ; and ef I was to blow Tiim to General 
 Leslie, for it, where would he be ? And if I was to blow you to 
 the rebels, where would you be ?" 
 
 " Pshaw ! you might blow to all eternity, Bostwick, and 
 would only hang yourself the faster. You sold me negroes, and 
 gave me your titles for them. I have your hand and seal on it 
 my good fellow all fair business transactions. Don t be a foo). 
 Bostwick, as well as a knave. Keep your senses as long as you 
 can. You shall have the five guineas as soon as MoncriefY 
 comes back; but the question then will be, -how much more you 
 are to have ? I suppose we can present you with a good chance 
 of stores which you can sell to the rebels at your own price. 
 They are monstrously in need of clothes." 
 
 " I hain t made much by what I ve sold yit, and I m jest as 
 poor a man as ever. That ain t reasonable. Arter all I ve 
 dene to make a little money, losing my character, and my own 
 light feeling, I ought to have something to show for it." 
 
 " Well, as the British are going, there will be pretty leavings, 
 and Moncrieff won t stand upon trifles, in helping a fellow that 
 has been faithful to him. If he leaves you stores, which will 
 bring a hundred guineas, you ought to be satisfied. Don t you 
 think so ?" 
 
 " Ef I kin do no better," was the somewhat sulky answer. 
 
 " Well, I suppose that something of the kind will be done, 
 and that will settle off for the past. I may give you good busi 
 ness hereafter. MoncriefF s coming now, and we ll fix your 
 affairs for you at once." 
 
 The approaching footsteps of Mojicrieff arrested the confer 
 ence between the two. He soon after appeared, looking exces 
 sively disquieted. Let us leave the three for a few moments 
 while we return to the Widow Eveleigh. 
 
18 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE WIDOW BECOMES TROUBLESOME. 
 
 WE left, the brave widow in an apparent calm of mind, which 
 she did not altogether feel. She was a person of that tempera 
 ment which does not affect repose to which it is rather re 
 straint than rest and which, having grateful performances 
 before it, regards delay with disgust, and feels the necessity to 
 wait as an evil rather than a virtue. But the good had schooled 
 her moods with considerable success, and, if she felt the feverish 
 impatience which prompts one to be up and doing, she was yet 
 able to subdue its exhibitions when these might come in conflict 
 with duties equally requiring forbearance. She amused herself, 
 as we have seen, in examining the more curious portions of the 
 furniture ^f the apartment in which she was required to w^ , 
 We have noticed her examination of the beautiful duelling pis 
 tols of Moncrieff, and the discovery to which this examination 
 led. Her eyes were soon caught by the swords and sabres huiioj 
 upon the wall. Among these was a Turkish scimitar, with 
 handle of mother-of-pearl, at the sight of which she slightly 
 started. In a moment she had arisen and taken the weapon 
 from the wall. She drew it fairly from the scabbard, and sur 
 veyed the polished and beautiful blade, unstained and unspotted, 
 with a degree of interest which seemed to arise from other causes 
 than its simple beauty. She waved the bright steel upward, 
 with a somewhat gladiatorial air, then held it before her eyes, 
 and it was while she was thus employed, and in this attitude, 
 that Moncrieff suddenly re-entered the apartment. He abso 
 lutely recoiled at the spectacle, with an expression of wonder on 
 his countenance, which he did not seek to conceal, 
 
 " By Mars, madam, you terrify me ! Positively, I must -arm 
 myself, and get me a shield. I shall believe in the Amazons 
 after this." 
 
 The lady smiled sadly, and restored the weapon slowly and 
 
THE WIDOW BECOMES TROUBLESOME. li> 
 
 earefully to its sheath. A tear was in her eye, but it escaped 
 that of Moncrieff. She said in low tones, as if apologetically 
 
 "I know this scimitar, Colonel Moncrieff: I have seen it 
 often, with its former owner, at my dwelling. It was Major 
 Andre s." 
 
 " You are right, madam ; and I do not wonder at youi curi 
 osity. Poor Andre ! What a cruel fate ! and he, with such 
 tastes, such sensibilities, and such ambition !" 
 
 " Too much lacking pride, however." 
 
 " How, madam, pride ?" 
 
 " Yes ; or he had never suffered himself to be put to such base 
 uses." 
 
 " I do not see, Mrs. Eveleigh, that fidelity to one s king, can 
 properly be so stigmatized." 
 
 " There is a higher fidelity to one s self, one s honor and in-^^7 
 dividual character. But he paid the terrible penalty, and we / 
 must not dwell upon his weaknesses. He had tastes, and sensi- / 
 bilities, as you say; he loved music and poetry, and could 
 make the song and find for it the fitting harmonies. He has 
 frequently joined me on the harpsichord, and would forget, at 
 our evening fireside, all the habits of the soldier. He was not 
 fitted for such a life, and he felt it. I have listened to his own 
 self-reproaches, for having chosen the profession. He did so in 
 an hour of disappointment of weakness and was only not 
 courageous enough to abandon it when he felt his unsuitableness 
 for it." 
 
 " But, Andre was a brave man, Mrs, Eveleigh." 
 
 " Yes ; in one sense of the word. He had conventional cour 
 age, but not intrepidity. He would have shown himself fearless 
 in the sight of armies he would have fought his man without 
 flinching in the sight of friends ; but he had none of that gladia 
 tor spirit that Hunnish blindness which belongs to the soldier 
 from choice. Had he possessed this quality, he would have dis 
 dained the petty employments which finally cost him his life." 
 
 " Well, madam, you have given me something to think upon, 
 though I knew Andre well. We exchanged swords in proof of 
 friendship though, by the way, mine was the most costly 
 weapon of the two. It was a genuine Damascus, while thin, 
 though a very beautiful imitation, is not !" 
 
20 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 The widow looked at the speaker with an unalloyed expres 
 sion of disgust. Her glance did not escape him, and his face 
 was slightly flushed, as he added 
 
 " Though, of course, the difference of value between the weap 
 ons was not a subject of consideration. Indeed, if I remember 
 rightly, the first proposal to exchange came from me. It was 
 just when he was about to embark for New York, with Sir 
 
 Henry." 
 
 He paused, and the lady was also silent. She appeared wil 
 ling to drop the subject. Moncrieff then promptly recurred to 
 the business upon which she came. 
 
 " I have made you out the order, Mrs. Eveleigh, for your ne 
 groes, if they are, as you say, in the custody of Captain Dort." 
 " Captain Dort, sir ! I know nothing of him, and have named 
 no such person. The negroes are in the hulk at Market 
 Dock, and their keeper I have not seen." 
 
 " He is Captain Dort, madam, a Hessian, and the keeper of 
 the hulk. Had he not been drunk, madam, you would pos 
 sibly have seen him and possibly not your negroes." 
 
 This was spoken with unsuppressed chagrin. He added : 
 " Here is the order, madam." 
 
 " I thank you, Colonel Moncrieff. And now that my own 
 affair is settled, suffer me to draw your attention to that of one 
 of my neighbors, and an old acquaintance. I discovered in the 
 hulk, while looking for my own slaves, seven others, who 
 belong to Captain Porgy, a planter on the Ashepoo. They 
 knew me, and I them, in an instant. They implored me to ob 
 tain their restoration to their owner, and I shall be obliged to 
 you for an order to tin s effect also." 
 
 " By the powers, madam, but this is quite too much ! One 
 would think that you might be content with having secured youi 
 own property." 
 
 " Not so, Major Moncrieff ! We are taught t o love our neigh 
 bor as ourself, and such love can be shown in no better way, per 
 haps, than in giving heed to his interest at the moment when we 
 attend to our own. Indeed, sir, I do not know but that, as a good 
 Christian, I should have thought first of his concerns." 
 
 " Oh ! you are scrupulous, ma am ! But, in truth, this Porgy, 
 is a fierce and pestilent fellow one of the gang of Marion who 
 
THE WIDOW BECOMES TkOUi .LKSOM K. *J1 
 
 has made himself particularly conspicuous as a malignant. He 
 has certainly no reason to expect favor at our hands." 
 
 " Oh ! surely not favor ! The question is one of right, sim 
 ply. Either these negroes are Captain Porgy s or not. I can 
 prove them to be so." 
 
 " But not that he has not sold them ?" 
 
 " His hill of sale would show that." 
 
 " Mndam, you should have been a lawyer." 
 
 " But a little while ago, your opinion was that I should haw 
 ill-en a soldier." 
 
 " Egad ! madam, it is difficult to say what -profession you might 
 net have chosen successfully." 
 
 " Thank you sir for the compliment, however equivocal. But 
 you will give me the order, will you not?" 
 
 " Oh ! to be sure, if there really be such negroes in our pos 
 session." 
 
 " They are entered in the hulk-book in your name." 
 
 " The devil they are ! It is strange that people should take 
 my name in vain so eternally. I must see to it. These cursed 
 Hessians, Mrs. Eveleigh, are the greatest rogues and drunkards 
 in the world. I will see to the matter. If the negroes are 
 there, when I make the inquiry, I will send you an order for 
 them. Let me have your address, if you please." 
 
 " I am with my friend, Mrs. Merchant, in Church street." 
 
 " Mrs. Merchant," writing. " The Merchants are all our 
 friends. And now, Mrs. Eveleigh, as I have already said, if the 
 negroes of Captain Porgy are really in the hulk " 
 
 " You forget, Colonel Moncrieff, that I have just told you that 
 I myself have seen them there." 
 
 " Pardon me, madam ; I do not forget. But you do not know 
 these Hessians. If they have had the audacity to enter these 
 negroes in my name, they will not scruple at doing worse. They 
 will be very apt to hide them elsewhere, the moment they sus 
 pect that they are in danger of detection." 
 
 " So much the more important, Colonel Moncrieff, that I should 
 have the order for them promptly, and before they get wind of 
 their danger. But, in fact, there is no chance of their doing as 
 you suppose ; for, before I came here apprehending this very 
 danger, T procured the assistance of three vigilant friends, who 
 
22 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 are now watching every movement at the hulk/ and will fol 
 low the negroes wherever they go." 
 
 " Then, madam," answered the British colonel, with evident 
 chagrin, " I may as well give you the order out of hand." 
 
 " I shall thank you, sir." 
 
 " I trust, madam, that your requisitions stop here ; for, though 
 very happy to oblige the ladies, and to do justice, my interfe 
 rence will make me many enemies among these rascally Hes 
 sians." 
 
 " Oh ! sir, you will survive that danger. But this is the ex 
 tent of my demands. I have no doubt that there are many 
 other slaves, about to be fraudulently taken from their owners, 
 but I can advance no proof to this effect." 
 
 " The names, if you please, madam, of the negroes, whom you 
 claim for this rebel, Porpoise !" 
 
 " Porgy, sir," was the correction, with a quiet smile, as the 
 lady beheld the evident chagrin of her companion. 
 
 " Well, madam Porgy though both names are sufficiently 
 fish, and of the two, the Porpoise is decidedly the most dignified." 
 
 " But less fit for the table, sir," answered the widow, as she 
 proceeded to give the names of the negroes. Moncrieff wrote 
 as she spoke. A few moments were thus consumed ; then he 
 threw down his pen, looked at the lady, then among his papers, 
 rose at length with a dissatisfied air, and hurried again to the inner 
 room where he had left M Kewn and Bostwick. In a few sec 
 onds he again returned, still with a manner of some disquiet. 
 Again he stirred lip, and glanced over the papers upon his table, 
 but without seeming to satisfy his search. Resuming his seat 
 and pen, at length, he finished tlis order for the delivery of 
 Porgy a negroes, and rising, handed it with great politeness to 
 the widow, expressing at the same time, in very stately lan 
 guage, the profound delight which he felt in being able to com 
 ply with the wishes of a lady whom General Leslie was so well 
 pleased to honor. The widow was not to be outdone in conven 
 tional graces. She answered him in terms equally polite and 
 profound; and, with smiles and courtesies, took her departure. 
 He waited upon her to the entrance. When the door had fairly 
 closed behind her, he gave full expression to his chagrin in a 
 burst of wrath and denunciation. 
 
THE OVERSEER, FORDHAM. 23 
 
 " The d .1 cool and confident creature ? Hark you, within 
 
 there, M Kcwn come out! and you, too, Master Bostwick ! 
 that I may have somebody to cimse till I am comfortable. We 
 are handsomely bedevilled, i faitn, and by a woman. But such 
 a woman ! In truth, she is a woman, and worth half the men J 
 k now." 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THE OVERSEER, FORDHAM. 
 
 THE excellent lady of whom these words were spoken, had, 
 meanwhile quietly taken her place in the carriage which had 
 been awaiting her in the street. The driver was a black, in the 
 livery of Mrs. Merchant, to whom the establishment belonged. 
 Mrs. Eveleigh was not its only occupant. On the back seat, 
 beside her, sat a white man, who had held possession while she 
 remained within the quarters of Moncrieff. Here, he had studi 
 ously kept himself from being seen, but had not been the less 
 disposed to maintain a vigilant watch upon all without. He re 
 ceived the widow, on her return, Avith a manner which was 
 equally attentive and respectful. The appearance of this person 
 was that of one who had not been accustomed to a place so dis 
 tinguished. He was not abashed, but awkward. He was evidently 
 a backwoodsman, in humble life, wearing the costume of the 
 woodsman of that period, a rather snug-fitting suit of blue home 
 spun, with a sort of hunting-shirt of the same color and material, 
 though without the customary fringes which made it the military 
 garb of the forest rangers, or militia. His face and hands were 
 well embrowned by the sun. The latter were large and rough, 
 and had been well exercised in splitting their two hundred rails 
 per day. The features of his face were large and rough also, 
 but mild, and full of honesty. His great blue eye was expres 
 sive of much benevolence, but mixed with a decisive and earnest 
 manliness. The widow addressed him as Mr. Fordham nay, 
 she called him " Fordham," familiarly, without the prefix, and 
 it did not at all lessen his deference, this freedom. He was, ID 
 
24 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 fact, the overseer of her plantation, and had been the employee 
 of her hushand. A long experience had perfectly assured them 
 both of his fidelity and worth. That the widow had chosen him 
 as her companion, on the present occasion, was due to the ob 
 jects she had in view, and to the necessity of the case. He had 
 been the agent who had successfully discovered the place in 
 which her negroes were confined. By his scheming, the Hessian 
 guards at the "hulk" had been drenched with Jamaica, and 
 access had been procured to that prison, and to the books which 
 * identified the slaves with their several British appropriators. In 
 this business he was much more efficient than any of the more 
 eminent friends of Mrs. Eveleigh could have been ; and the 
 work being an unpleasant one, she had preferred to employ a 
 person whose services she could compensate, rather than those 
 who, however well pleased to serve her, would yet have found 
 the particular duty somewhat disagreeable. But the good lady, 
 though an aristocrat, was not disposed to underrate Mr. Ford- 
 ham, as a friend, while employing him as her overseer. She 
 really respected the man, and, as he never trespassed upon her 
 indulgence, she felt that she might safely honor him with her 
 friendship, as well as her interests. 
 
 " Well, Fordham," she said, as soon as she. had taken her 
 seat beside him, " if you have kept your eyes about you, you 
 have, probably, made a discovery." 
 
 " Indeed I have, ma am ! You mean the squatter, Bostwick." 
 
 " I was not mistaken in the fellow, then f You saw him V 
 
 " Oh, yes, ma am ; there s no mistaking such a fellow ! He 
 came up soon after you went in pushed in without knocking, 
 jest as ef he was at his own home. But, did he see you, 
 ma am T 
 
 " Yes ; but I rather think he believes that I did not see him. 
 Are you sure that he did not see you ?" 
 
 " Quite sure, ma am. He never once looked this way, and 
 b-cemed a little beflustered and in a mighty great hurry. I 
 reckon he s found out what we ve been after. He s at the bot 
 tom of this business." 
 
 " I have no doubt of it now. Yet, who could have believed 
 it? that the wretch could be so ungrateful and his wife and 
 children living, as it were, out of my hands 1" 
 
TlIK OVKiiSKKiJ, l- OHDIlAAl. 2S 
 
 " He s jest one of that very breed, ma am, that does this sort 
 of things. No good ever comes out of sicli a cre tur no more 
 than out of a snake. Warm em as you please by your own 
 fireside, and feed em kindly out of your own hands, and it 
 makes no difference. Once warm, they re sure to bite you. All 
 their vartue, they seems to think, lies only in their venom. 
 What will you do with him, ma am?" 
 
 " I don t see that anything can be done with him. The proofs 
 against him are, at present, only in our suspicions. Besides, for 
 the sake of the poor, broken-hearted woman, his wife, and his 
 wretched children, I prefer that he should go free." 
 
 " Why, yes, ma am, if one could be sure that he would do no 
 more mischief. But you re not sure of sich a cre tur a minute. 
 He s always at something wrong. Twould be a monstrous 
 sight better for his wife and children ef he d clear out with the 
 British. He s as good as one of em." 
 
 " Perhaps he may." 
 
 " A good riddance then for all. But lynching might be of 
 help to him before he goes." 
 
 " Nay, I m not sure of that." 
 
 " Twould hurt him then, and that s, anyhow, as much as we 
 ought to care about. But, one thing, I ll tell you, ma am. Ef 
 he don t clear out when the British go, he ll be of trouble to us 
 yit. We ll have to keep all eyes open, ef he s to stay in the 
 country." 
 
 " I must use your eyes then, Fordham, for this purpose, as I 
 have done for so long a time already. I have every confidence 
 hi your vigilance and ability, Fordham." 
 
 " You may rest on me, ma am." 
 
 " Thank you, Fordham. I feel sure of that. I need not tell 
 you, Fordham, that I have the order for the negroes." 
 
 " Captain Porgy s too, ma am?" 
 
 " Yes, both." 
 
 " Good ! It must have been like physic to the British colo 
 nel to have to give em up." 
 
 " Yes, indeed ! But here are the orders, both for Captain 
 Porgy s. and mine. You must take the negroes into your own 
 keeping take them to Moore s house, * up the path, and Moore 
 and his two sons will take turns with you, for a few days, in 
 
26 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 watching them. We will keep within the garrison till the Brit- 
 ish troops leave, and our own people march in, and shall then 
 escape any danger from detachments about the country. In a 
 week or ten days we may safely depart. I will leave town with 
 you. Here we are, at Mrs. Merchant s. You will take the car 
 riage, and go at once to the * hulk. My friends there, Miles, 
 Johnson, and Sturgis, will help you to procure the negroes, and 
 here is General Leslie s order for keeping them in your posses 
 sion undisturbed. I will get the protection of our commissioner 
 also, who will be in town to-morrow. Now, Fordham, I leave, 
 all in your hands. Good-morning." 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE OLD ROGUES MAKE NEW PLOTS. 
 
 "MAY the foul fiend deliver us from such a woman!" was 
 the exclamation of Moncrieff, as his two confederates entered 
 the apartment ; and he swore terribly as " our army did in Flan 
 ders." 
 
 " Why, what s the matter 1 anything more anything worse ?" 
 demanded M Kewn. 
 
 "Ay, indeed!" answered Moncrieff, busily looking among his 
 papers and he told of the further requisition which the widow 
 had made for the negroes of Porgy. 
 
 " But you did not give them up ?" 
 
 " How the devil, could I help it ?" was the fierce response of 
 the British colonel. M Kewn was almost as furious. 
 
 " I d have seen her d d first !" cried the other. 
 
 " Oh ! you would, would you 1 but she would have had the 
 
 negroes, though you d d her into the deepest part of you) 
 
 own future dominions." 
 
 And he then told of the precaution taken by the wily widow 
 how she had placed her friends in watch upon the "hulk," 
 leaving them no opportunity for evasion. For the time, they 
 were in her power. 
 
 * I would have baffled her if the thing could have been done ; 
 
THE OLD ROGUES MAKE NEW PLOTS. 27 
 
 but I saw no way of escape. She has the order, and it will not 
 be long before the negroes are in her keeping." 
 
 Moncrieff and M Kewn were equally savage. Bostwick, who 
 had nothing to lose, and could not be made to disgorge, was com 
 paratively cool and indifferent. The anger of the two fornu-i 
 having subsided a little, they began to congratulate themselves 
 that the matter was no worse that they had got off, in fact. HO 
 easily. The requisition might as readily have relieved them of 
 two hundred as of twenty negroes. The question with them 
 was, in what way to save the residue. The widow had only to 
 report what she kneAV, to the commissioners of the American 
 army, to wrest from them all of their ill-gotten fugitives. For 
 tunately for them, the commissioners were not then in the city. 
 They were in the American camp, procuring all possible forms 
 of proof for the reclamation of the goods of citizens. They 
 might, and probably would, return to the city, in the space of 
 another day, and the first object with our Arcadians, was how, 
 meanwhile, to secure the rest of the stolen negroes. But the 
 parties interested had their mode of operation, and were not 
 without experience. It will suffice here, if we mention the fact 
 that, but very few of the two hundred remaining in the " hulk," 
 after Mrs. Eveleigh had secured hers, were ever restored to their 
 owners. The next morning, at dawn, found the " hulk" empty, 
 while one of the transports had hauled out into the stream, ready 
 to depart at a given signal. To arrange these matters, our com 
 panions needed little discussion. 
 
 " And now," said Moncrieff c now that wo have resolved what 
 is to be done, I will give you the order without delay. That 
 drunken rascal, Dort, must be relieved of all such trusts in fu 
 ture. This woman, through some of her friends, has practised 
 upon his love of Hollands. She had never got a peep at those 
 books otherwise. We must give their charge to Witsell. Do 
 you keep here, M Ke~wn, and see tha!; Bostwick does not expose 
 the beauties of his face until I send Waldron to you. He will 
 tell you if the coast be clear. For his own sake, it will not do 
 to identify him in my quarters. Indeed, I don t know but rJiat 
 my own character needs the same precaution. You are not, 
 Master Bostwick, the handsomest piece of humanity tlur; *V.9 
 world has witnessed." 
 
28 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 " I am jist as God made me, Colonel Moncrieff," responded 
 the squatter, sulkily. 
 
 " Pooh ! pooh ! Bostwick, that s all a mistake. Do you sup 
 pose that God made you at all ? If he did, do you presume to 
 say that you are in just as good condition as when you came out 
 of his hands V 
 
 " Ef I m changed for the worse, colonel, I know who has 
 helped to change me," and the fellow s eyes looked alternately 
 to liis two companions. 
 
 " What ! you would give us the credit of your bad improve 
 ments j but you know better, Bostwick. We found you as you 
 are, a ready made rascal, my lad ; arid employed you in a busi 
 ness for which your education was complete. But you want 
 money, M Kewn says 1 Well, we must give you a little. Five 
 guineas you say ? There it is. And now, Master Bostwick, 
 you are pretty well paid. In fact, considering our losses this 
 morning the seven of the widow Eveleigh, and the seven more 
 of the rebel, Captain Porpoise seven, is it, or six 1 where the 
 d 1 can those memorandums be? I say, considering these 
 losses, you are something overpaid. But we won t be tight with 
 you, my good fellow ; and, as M Kewn hints, I will leave you, 
 at parting, a tolerable supply of stores with which you can do a 
 clever little business, hereafter, with your rebel friends. How 
 does this plan suit you ?" 
 
 " I reckon it must do, colonel. >r 
 
 " Do ! By , my good fellow, you are about the most un 
 grateful, and not easily satisfied scoundrel of my acquaintance !" 
 
 " And it s a mighty large one too, I reckon," was the answer 
 of Bostwick, with a grin that seemed to show that he was fully 
 conscious of the sarcasm contained in his reply. 
 
 " You are right, my handsome fellow many rascals in it, no 
 doubt, but no one, by , who seems sc little grateful for lit 
 tle favors as yourself. But, where, the d 1, are these mem- 
 craiidums ? Have you seen them, M Kewn ?" 
 
 " You mean those of the negroes ?" 
 
 " Yes ; to be sure ! I had them here but a while ago j" and 
 as he spoke. Moncrieff looked suspiciously at Bostwick. He 
 bumbled over the papers on his table, but without effect. He 
 
THE OLD ROGUES MAKE NEW PLOTS. 29 
 
 IViilcil to fii.cl what lie sought. M Kewn interested himself also 
 in the search. 
 
 " Could the widow have laid hands upon them ?" he suddenly 
 asked, with some anxiety. 
 
 "No! Impossible!" said Moncrieff, and his eyes again 
 glanced at Bostwick, who sat sullenly beside the fireplace, look 
 ing down upon the hearth. M Kewn also glanced in the same 
 direction ; but his mind reverted again to his former suspicion. 
 
 " If the widow has laid hands on them, it will be a bad busi 
 ness," said he, apprehensivelyt 
 
 " Pshaw ! she wouldn t have touched them for the world. A 
 lady, M Kewn a lady." 
 
 " If she did take them, there s no way of getting them from 
 her." 
 
 "I should certainly be the last man to think of demanding 
 them. But, continue the search, M Kewn. Look among the 
 papers in the other room. I must hurry off to Dort, and see to 
 this business." 
 
 When he was gone, M Kewn exclaimed 
 
 " Lady or no lady, I ll lay my life, that woman has pocketed 
 the papers!" 
 
 "What peers ?" asked Bostwick, indifferently. 
 
 " The papers thac will hang you like a dog, fool ! The mem 
 orandums of all the negroes brought in during the last month, 
 and who brought them, and whence they were taken. My name 
 and yours are both upon the paper." 
 
 " Who put em there 1 I can t write. You must ha done it." 
 
 " So I did. I had to keep your accounts as well as my own, 
 with Moncrieff. Look you, Bostwick, we must find out if she s 
 got them, and if she has, we must get them from her, or the 
 country will be too hot to hold us." 
 
 " I don t see. There s a paper, you say, with your name and 
 my name ; but anybody can write my name, and I m not answer 
 able if I don t write it myself. I reckon, if there s anybody in 
 danger, you are the man." 
 
 "You reckon so, do you? as if my evidence won t convict 
 you, should the paper convict me; for I must show how the 
 negroes came into my hands. Don t be u fool, Bostwick. We 
 must get those papers !" 
 
30 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 W^ll how ? I m agreeable to anything." 
 
 " I m glad to hear you say so, and to make the necessity seem 
 more reasonable to you, let me hint that we must not only get 
 the papers back, but the negroes. They re as good to you as 
 ready money." 
 
 " How can it be done ?" asked the squatter. 
 
 " I must find out when the widow and the slaves leave town. 
 You can easily pick up half-a-dozen of the fellows of Huck s 
 gang, can t you ?" 
 
 " For good pay, and guineas in 4iand, I reckon." 
 
 "You shall have them. If we can find out when she leave.; 
 town, you can intercept her and recover the papers and the, ne 
 groes. We shall have a transport sloop at the mouth of tin- 
 Edjsto, off and on, for the next two weeks. In that time tlici 
 negroes must be off for the plantation, as they will be wanted 
 pretty soon for breaking up the rice land. If you can recover 
 them, you can push down the Edisto in boats, where Barton and 
 Drummond will be on the lookout for you. Do you see ?" 
 
 "Yes cl ar enough. But there s no gitting the boys, with 
 out the guineas in Jtund. I m rather owing them something 
 now, and they won t b lieve me unless I kin show them the 
 goiild." 
 
 " You shall be provided. Leave it to me to procure the neces 
 sary information, Avhile you go and pick up the refugees. Half- 
 a-dozen stout fellows, in all, will probably answer, and you, your 
 self, can make the sixth man. The fewer the better. They 
 are more manageable, and the pay will be larger to each. When 
 you have engaged your men, promise the cash, and come to me 
 for the money." 
 
 Waldron at the moment entered. 
 
 " The Colonel says all s clear, Mr. M Kewn." 
 
 "Then I m oft ;" said Bostwick. " I know where Dick Nor- 
 ris and Hafe Burke keep, and they can show me the other men 
 I ll come to you at your own place to-night, Mr. M Kewn." 
 
 " Very good, only be sure and keep sober. You will need all 
 your senses." 
 
 " I ll walk a crack with you any day," answered the other, 
 as he hurried out of the room with Waldron. For a moment 
 after his departure, M Kewn sat musing. Then, appearing to 
 
NEW ISSUES BETWEEN OLD ALLIES. 31 
 
 recover his thoughts, lie proceeded anew to search for the missing 
 papers among the piles which lay upon the table. 
 
 " I ll look," he muttered, " but something tells me that woman 
 has got them. She may do mischief with them, and, unluckily, 
 it s just in her neighborhood now that most of my interest lies. 
 There s that estate of Porgy : my mortgage covers his land. 
 There s Grillon s, which I ve bought out and out all, as I may 
 say, alongside of her. If she has the papers, though they may 
 absolutely prove nothing certain, they prove too much. She 
 will hardly make use of them now. The British going out, and 
 the Americans coming in, will cause a stir for sometime, and 
 she ll be quiet till all the hubbub s over. Then! But that 
 will give us time, and time is half the capital of a wise m^n. 
 She s a monstrous fine woman. What an eye she carries in her 
 head! What a head ! I must see her again! She has a fine 
 estate, almost joining those I got of Gillon." 
 
 We need not follow him in his musings. Enough to say that 
 his search was fruitlessly continued, for sometime longer, after 
 the missing papers. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 NEW ISSUES BETWEEN OLD ALLIES. 
 
 SATURDAY, the 14th of December, 1782, was the day, memo 
 rable in the annals of Charleston, for the evacuation of that city 
 by its British conquerors. They had held possession of it for 
 two years, seven months and two days. Painful to them was 
 the necessity of departing from a region in which they had been 
 EO successful in combining profit with pleasure. They had 
 spoiled the Egyptians with a vengeance had luxuriated in 
 their flesh-pots for a long season, and naturally tore themselves 
 away with reluctance. Nobody suffered more grievously from 
 the necessity than our thirsty colonel of engineers, Moncrieff 
 Yet, no one, probably, had so successfully engaged in the busi 
 ness of " appropriation." His portion of the spoils, in negroes 
 
32 WOODCRAFT, 
 
 alone, is estimated at eight hundred. These had been shipped, 
 at various periods, for the West India islands, as soon as it be 
 came obvious to all that the war was about to close, and the 
 evacuation was inevitable. Fully two hundred slaves, as we have 
 seen, were about to accompany his departure, all to his credit ; 
 the profits of which, in some degree, served to alleviate the dis 
 quiet that he felt at the discontinuance of a career, the fruits of 
 which had been so abundant. In respect to these, there was a 
 final conference between himself and M Kewn, at the dawning 
 of the- day assigned for the exodus of the British. M Kewn 
 sought the British colonel in his chamber, and while the latter 
 was yet yawning dismally, not thoroughly awake, at once over his 
 own broken slumbers, and the chcerlessness of the prospect, the 
 former opened the last business interview that was destined to 
 take place between the parties, by a somewhat abrupt reference 
 to the one matter which particularly concerned himself." 
 
 " You have not found the memorandum, colonel ?" 
 
 " No, 1 n it, it is" gone, certainly. I have searched every 
 where bu" in vain. Your rascal, Bostwick, has it, in all proba 
 bility. I can hardly persuade myself that the woman took it 
 She is too much of a lady." 
 
 " That may be, yet I doubt ; and, indeed, I m not so sure 
 that even as a lady, she need have any scruples at putting in 
 her pocket a document which so much concerned her own in 
 terest." 
 
 "Ah! and that s your opinion?" said Moncrieff, yawning, 
 with an insolent contempt in his manner. " But, permit me to 
 say, M Kewn, that your habits in life, and business, are not, 
 perhaps, the best calculated to make you a judge in such mat 
 ters. The rules which govern the conduct of ladies and gentle 
 men do not necessarily occur to persons in trade. They are, 
 perhaps, almost exclusively understood by those only whose life 
 from the beginning has been in society, and among that class 
 which finds its chief occupation in this very study. Now, you 
 are a shrewd man of business, M Kewn devilish shrewd as a 
 man of business one may say wise, indeed certainly, mon 
 strous knowing but you will admit that you have paid but 
 small attention to the affairs of polite society. You can not well 
 understand them, my good fellow. Permit me to repeat that 
 
NEW ISSUES BETWEEN OLD ALLIES. 33 
 
 Mrs. Eveleigh, who was bom in the purple chamber of aris 
 tocracy, never could have taken this paper: never! never!" 
 
 M Kewn s brow became contracted as he listened to this offen 
 sive speech. It betrayed the contempt, without any desire for 
 the concealment, with which the insolent official regarded him. 
 All motives foi concealing this contempt were at an end. The 
 intercourse was over between them. The orange had been 
 fully sucked, and M Kewn could no longer be of use to the ava 
 rice of his employer. He felt all this, in an instant, but it was 
 not his policy to express the indignation which it provoked. A 
 sharp sarcasm, indeed, almost forced its way between his teeth; 
 but he crushed them together, at the peril of his lips, and held 
 his peace until the impulse was over. Then he said, quietly 
 
 " Bostwick, I know, could not have taken the paper, for the 
 scoundrel can t read a syllable, and knew riot that such a paper 
 was in existence. The temptation to the widow, Eveleigh, was 
 great, and if she has it in her possession, the affair becomes a 
 very serious one to me." 
 
 " Why, yes," rejoined the other, with an air of the greatest 
 sang froid, " it might hang you, M Kewn." 
 
 " Hardly that ; but it would ruin me." 
 
 " You have managed badly. Why, did you invest in real 
 estate ? How could you expect to make away with it ? How 
 could you expect to remain after our departure ? Whether this 
 paper arises or not, you are surely committed irrevocably with 
 the rebels. Here you have been a contractor for the British 
 army you were one of the addressors of Sir Henry an un 
 forgivable offence. That you are a creditor of some of the 
 rebels, and hold mortgages -upon their estates, are only addi 
 tional reasons for the confiscation of your property, and the en 
 dangering of your personal safety. It has always seemed to 
 me the greatest folly that you should think to remain. It is .not 
 too late to determine more wisely. Abandon these villanous 
 acres, these liens, which will be wholly worthless to you, and 
 get yourself aboard the fleet before the army moves." 
 
 M Kewn seemed to brood upon the suggestion for a few mo 
 ments, then looking up suddenly, replied 
 
 " No ! it is now impossible. I should be a beggar elsewhere 
 My whole capital consists in these lands, and these liens are 
 
34 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 my whole stodt in trade. I must take my chance. I do not 
 think that my debtors, though rebels, will take advantage of my 
 situation; and but for this accursed paper " 
 
 0h! d u the paper! Let s hear no more about it. You 
 BCO my desk there. It contains the only papers in my posses 
 sion which I have not destroyed. These will go with me, and 
 can never rise against you. I can say no more on the subject. 
 I repeat, you are an idiot if you stay. You can not hope for 
 safety. Take to the fleet, and be aboard as soon as you can. 
 This is my last and best counsel." 
 
 "M Kewn longed to ntter the savage answer which he could 
 liuve spoken longed to snap his fingers in the face of the inso 
 lent Briton, and tell him that while he fancied that he used him, 
 lie was himself used th.it he had guarantees of safety of 
 which the other did not dream, and which, had he known, 
 would a British, quite as soon 
 
 as an American gallows; but the moment for such daring had 
 not come by several hours. He reserved himself for this rela 
 tion to the moment, when the American army was fairly within 
 the city. A slight smile, therefore, was employed to shadow his 
 future purpose. Moncrieff did not perceive the sinister meaning 
 of this smile he added rather contemptuously than kindly 
 
 " If you reject my counsel you will deserve your fate. Yet, 
 I assure you, M Kewn, it will distress me to hear that so shrewd 
 a business man has been suddenly made to ride a wooden norse, 
 and unprovided with stirrups." 
 
 " I see that you have nothing further forme, colonel," was the 
 only answer of M Kewn. 
 
 " No, my good fellow, nothing. Take yourself off, now, while 
 I make my toilet. There is the morning gun. You can see me 
 on the march if you desire it ; but i faith, the ceremony of part 
 ing is usually so dismal and distressing, that I do not know but 
 we may well dispense with it. At all events, for the present, 
 M Kewn, good morning good morning." 
 
 " The selfish and narrow-minded scoundrel !" muttered 
 M Kewn, as he slowly wound his way down the staircase. 
 
 "What a bore!" exclaimed Moncrieff, as the other disap 
 peared. " With his d d memoranda ! What do I care if 
 
 they do hang him ! That he should presume to know the law* 
 
NEW ISSUES BETWEEN OLD ALLIES. , &) 
 
 of honor for gentleman or lady. He deserves to be hanged for 
 that, if nothing else. Ho ! there, Waldron." 
 
 And ringing his hell furiously, our excellent colonel entered 
 upon the duties of his toilet. 
 
 Meanwhile, the business of the day Avas fairly begun in the 
 American camp, and within the lines of the garrison. By a plan 
 previously agreed upon between General Leslie of the one, and 
 General Greene of the other army, the British column was to be 
 in motion at the firing of the morning gun, withdrawing from the 
 lines, near Shubrick s farm, and moving through the city to the 
 wharves. At the same moment, the advance of the Americans, 
 under General Wayne who had been approaching from Ash 
 ley Ferry, where Greene s army lay was to follow slowly 
 upon their footsteps, until the city, abandoned by the one, 
 should be fully occupied by the forces of the other. The fleet 
 of the British, more than three hundred sail, lay at anchor in the 
 roruls, stretching, in a beautiful crescent, from Fort Johnson to 
 Five Fathom Hole. " It was a grand and pleasing sight," says 
 old Moultrie, who accompanied Greene in his triumphal entry. 
 Not less pleasing to the war-worn and returning patriots, and the 
 brave glorious dames, who cheered them in their weary strug 
 gle, was the progress of the troops of the conqueror, sullenly 
 retiring from their places of pleasure and pasturage. The win 
 dows, balconies, housetops, in all the principal streets, were 
 crowded with happy smiling faces, beholding with equal joy the 
 departure of the one dynasty, and the reappearance of the 
 other. At an early hour of- the day the embarkation of the 
 British began, but it was not till near eleven, A. M., when the 
 rear-guard began to file, with measured steps, through the cen 
 tre of the city. Wayne s detachment, consisting of three hun 
 dred light infantry, twenty artillery with tAvo six-pounders, and 
 eighty of Lee s caA^alry, following them at an interA^al of two 
 hundred yards only, constituted the advance of the American 
 army. It AVHS a novel situation for both parties to approach to 
 such propinquity yet keep from bloAvs ; and the British evinced 
 no small feeling of disquiet, as, in the impatience of the former, 
 to obtain possession of that city for which they had so long beeo 
 striving, they pressed forward at a pace which promised to unite 
 the two armies in one indistinguishable mass. 
 
3C WOODCRAFT. 
 
 " This must not be," cried a British officer, riding up to the 
 head of the Americans ; " you are too fast upon us, gentlemen 
 you press upon us too closely." 
 
 The American general was compelled to call a halt and 
 then the shouts rose from the housetops and the balconies, while 
 trumpets blared, and a thousand palmetto banners were flung 
 out in air as the cry went up 
 
 " Welcome, welcome home, brave hearts ! God bless you. 
 gallant gentlemen !" 
 
 " How the brutes howl !" muttered Moncrieff to one who at 
 that moment jogged his elbow. "All ! is it you, M Kewn ? You 
 arc just in time to say farewell." 
 
 " But I shall not say it, sir," was the reply, in a tone, and 
 with a manner which at once drew upon the speaker the aston 
 ished attention of the British officer. 
 
 " Eh ! what s the matter now ?" 
 
 " Read that at your leisure, Colonel Moncrieff," said M Kewn, 
 handing him a billet where he stood, curbing his chafing steed, 
 beneath a low balcony near Chalmers, in Meeting street. Mon 
 crieff took the paper, and proceeded to open it on the spot. 
 
 " It will teach you, sir," continued M Kewn, " that you were 
 never more my tool than when you thought me yours !" 
 
 With these words he disappeared within the dwelling before 
 which the scene took place. Moncrieff, astonished, looked about 
 him, but not seeing the speaker, he turned to the billet. In a 
 moment his eyes glittered with sudden rage, and in the next in 
 stant the voice of M Kewn from the balcony above gave new 
 impulse to his fury. 
 
 "Rather a new feature in the history, Colonel Moncrieff!" 
 
 " Ha ! villain, but you shall not escape me !" and, thus speak 
 ing, he dashed up to the balcony, which, on horseback as he 
 was, his drawn weapon might have reached. But the side walks 
 were covered with spectators, who were not disposed to give 
 way, and one of these, an old man with a great white beard, but 
 sturdy and fearless, grasped the bridle of the horse and forced 
 him back. At the same moment, Major Barry hurried forward, 
 threw himself between, and drew Moncrieff away. The proces 
 sion was again in motion. 
 
 " What are you at, Moncrieff? this will never do. A single 
 
NEW ISSUES jJETWEEN OLD ALLIES. 37 
 
 rashness will bring their whole force upon us, and three fourths 
 of our army are already embarked ?" 
 
 "D n thg scoundrel!" was the exclamation of Moncrieff as 
 he suffered himself to be led away. " I would give fifty guineas 
 for a chance at his ears !" and, glaring as he spoke, like a hyena, 
 at the balcony where M Kewn stood, the centre of a crowd of 
 men and women, he was answered by a grin from his former 
 illy which added a hundred-fold to his vexation. The con 
 course behold this singular scene, and many of them heard the 
 language which the British colonel had employed. The circum 
 stance raised M Kewn inconceivably in their estimation. The 
 man who had provoked the ire of Moncrieff, was necessarily, in 
 that period and place, a patriot. But the procession moved on, 
 and the parties were soon separated. 
 
 The clamors increased. The trumpets rang forth more merry 
 peals. As the rich scarlet uniforms of the British disappeared 
 into Broao street, great festoons were swung across Meeting, 
 which they had left, and the crowds increased in the balconies. 
 Then, as Wayne pressed forward with his blue coats, in double 
 quick time, the shouts went up in redoubled peals. Rolled on 
 ward the solemn artillery galloped forward the gay horsemen 
 of Lee s squadron while the rattle of drums in the distance 
 announced the gradual approach of the main army of the Ameri 
 cans. At 3 P. M., the rear-guard announced the approach of 
 General Greene ; the governor of the state, Mathews ; with the 
 council of state ; closely followed by General Gist and the 
 brave old Moultrie, and accompanied by a noble civic proces 
 sion. This cortege halted in Broad street, opposite the spot now 
 occupied by the Bank of South Carolina, and the shouts of wel 
 come which hailed the appearance of the defenders of the coun 
 try, announced the final embarkation of the foe. Trumpets 
 sounded merrily drums rolled from a hundred conspicuous 
 points, and the cannon belched forth their mighty thunders, in 
 echo to the general voice of public thanksgiving. 
 
88 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 PLOTS ALL ROUND THE TABLE. 
 
 THE day passed off in pleasurable excitements which did n.?f 
 end with the night. An illumination followed, and every hou.*.? 
 was thrown wide for the reception of friends and visitors. The 
 military bands were in full requisition; and the merry violin, 
 sounding from this or that great house, in almost every street of 
 the city denoted the extempore dancing-party, and the, joyful 
 reunion of long separated friends and dear ones. Formality 
 interposed to mar none of the conviviality. There were no 
 tedious ceremonials. The strangers were known friends, and 
 successful valor, and unquestioned patriotism, were to be honored 
 and rewarded. There had been little time, and less means, i oi 
 any stately ceremonials. Invitations had not been given out, 
 but were commonly understood ; and every gentleman knew 
 that he was welcome at every whig mansion. Doors everywhere 
 were thrown wide, and the gay cavalier passed from one to 
 another dwelling, sure to find in all an attraction and a welcome 
 
 It was at one of these dwellings, in Broad street, that Mrs. 
 Evcleigh was, for the evening, an honored guest. A consider 
 able party had assembled, when General Greene made his ap 
 pearance with his suite. Moultrie came soon after, with good- 
 natured visage, looking the very personification of peace and 
 good-will to men. There were stately cavaliers in train from 
 Virginia, Maryland, and Delaware the old North state was 
 honorably represented in more than one tall and portly soldier, 
 while Georgia had two or three handsome blue-eyed and round- 
 faced youths, following the wake of th?. fiery Wayne. The 
 assemblage, hastily conceived and promiscuously brought to 
 gether, was nevertheless, comparatively, a brilliant one. Wo 
 do not propose to describe it more particularly. 
 
 It was while the rooms were most crowded, that Mrs. Eve- 
 leigh wa$ suddenly surprised by the entrance of M Kewn whom 
 
PLOTS ALL ROUND THE TABLE. 39 
 
 tike had known only as the associate of Moncrieff, and by tLe 
 memoranda winch she still held in her possession. lie ap 
 proached the hostess, Mrs. W , with the easy assurance of 
 
 oiie who has no doubt of his reception. Mrs Eveleigh watched 
 curiously to see what that reception would be. To her increased 
 surprise, she found it affable in the extreme. M KeAvn was next 
 seen among the gentlemen. With these, also, he seemed to 
 enjoy an excellent understanding. Her surprise underwent still 
 further increase, as she discovered in the persons with whom he 
 seemed most at home, none but un questionable patriots. By one 
 of these she saw him led up to General Greene, and introduced : 
 a few words were whispered in the general s ear by the gentle 
 man who did the courtesy on this occasion, and Greene was ther 
 seen to shake M Kewn s hand with a hearty and nervous grasp. 
 Good Mrs. Eveleigh knew not what to think. She turned to a 
 gentleman who sat beside her, whom she well knew, and asked : 
 
 "Who is that person just introduced to General Greene he 
 to whom General Moultrie is now speaking ?" 
 
 "His name is M Kewn he is, or was, a Scotch merchant 
 here, but I believe he has declined business recently. He is a 
 man of substance." 
 
 " The general seems to view him with favor." 
 
 " Well they may, if all s true that is said of him. He is one 
 of the few Scotchmen who have, been with us during the war. 
 He was one of the addressers of Sir Henry Clinton, but his os 
 tentatious loyalty was only employed as a cover for his revolu 
 tionary principles. He has been one of the spies, in part, upon 
 the garrison, and has frequently served Marion with information 
 of the state of affairs." 
 
 " His being- a Scotchman, yet a spy for us, does not speak 
 much for principle of any kind. I suppose he feathered his nest 
 by it." 
 
 " Ah !" with a shrug, "we must not be too scrupulous about 
 the quality of the tool we use if we pick the lock with it." 
 
 " Perhaps not : the necessity of the case is to be considered, 
 surely. But is it certain that Marion got any really valuable 
 information out of him ?" 
 
 " That is a problem. But you seem curious in respect to this 
 person. Have you any reason for it V 1 
 
40 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 " I liavc ; and I must consult you in regard to it and him 
 But not now. I sec that lie approaches." 
 
 The companion of Mrs. Eveleigh was, in that day, a very 
 celebrated Carolina lawyer, and, subsequently, the widow un 
 folded to him the discoveries which she had made. 
 
 " I am not at, all surprised at it," was the reply. " It is cer 
 tain that M Kewn has grown wealthy. He is proprietor of 
 several large estates, or rather has liens upon them, for advances 
 made at enormous interest. A foreclosure of these mortgages, 
 at this moment, when there is no money in the country, would 
 give him these estates at his own prices. These papers which 
 you possess would be fatal to him. But, unless he proceeds to 
 extremities with his debtors, it may be well not to use them." 
 
 " Should he not be made to disgorge?" 
 
 " Yes, if there be any good whig who suffers by him. But in 
 all probability most of his debtors are tories, and they will 
 scarcely oppose his action." 
 
 The good widow shook her head. 
 
 " lie has other victims. I know of one at least, a true patriot 
 a strange creature of many eccentricities, but of many noble 
 qualities and of much real talent. He has been the loser already 
 by this M Kewn. I recovered half-a-dozen slaves for him, when 
 I got my own out of the hulk." 
 
 " You mean Porgy ?" 
 
 "Yes!" 
 
 " Oh, we must save Porgy and we will ! But, for the pres 
 ent, keep perfectly quiet. We are yet in the storm. Govern 
 ment is only nominally established we know not what may 
 follow; keep an eye on the fellow that is enough for the 
 present and, with these papers, we can bring him up with a 
 short cord at any moment." 
 
 Enough of this conversation which took place the day after 
 
 the party at Mrs. W s. To that let us now return. The 
 
 approach of M Kewn to the place where Mrs. Eveleigh sat, fol 
 lowed very soon after the moment when she discovered his 
 presence in the assembly. He appeared to see her suddenly ; 
 but, we may state, from our o\vn knowledge, that his motive for 
 appearing in that particular assembly, that night, was the result 
 of his previous knowledge that he should be sure to meet her 
 
PLOTS ALL ROUND THE TABLE. 41 
 
 there He had taken sufficient pains to satisfy himself on this 
 point His object in desiring to see her should be obvious to 
 the reader. He was deeply interested in knowing whether she 
 had possessed herself of the missing paper which so greatly 
 compromised him. His notion was that, as a woman, she would 
 in some way betray her knowledge by look, word, manner 
 and thus enable him to determine upon the necessity before him, 
 and the game which he would need to play. But the Widow 
 Eveleigh was no ordinary woman. She was a good whist- 
 player, and when you find a good whist-player among women, 
 be sure that she knows how to keep a secret. Her trumpet 
 never announces the number or the value of her trump cards 
 
 A smile and bow a look and manner of the profoundest 
 courtesy mingled with that sort of triumphant pleasure which 
 might be supposed to appear in the faces of all good citizens at 
 such a moment distinguished the address of Mr. M Kewn, as 
 he stood before Mrs. Eveleigh. The lady acknowledged his 
 address with a courtesy sufficiently decided to make no revela 
 tions. M Kewn took the seat beside her. which her late com 
 panion had just vacated, and, in the current phrase of the hour, 
 congratulated her on the grateful change which the country had 
 undergone. She answered him in a manner of perfect good 
 faith, avoiding with caje every look or word which the most 
 jealous nature might construe into suspicion or sarcasm. 
 
 " It is certainly an event at which every good citizen should 
 rejoice, Mr. M Kewn. Our people have gone through a terrible 
 trial. They have shown themselves worthy of the liberties they 
 have won. It is to be hoped that they will now prove them 
 selves worthy to retain them." 
 
 " A more difficult matter. But we must hope, my dear madam. 
 It is something in proof of their capacity to keep, that they have 
 shown the capacity to win. I found you lately engaged iq a 
 somewhat unpleasant business. I trust you were successful in 
 getting back your negroes." 
 
 " I was, sir." 
 
 " You were then much more fortunate than some of your 
 neighbors. I have much trouble with Col. Moncrieff in remov 
 ing some of my own, and was only in part successful." 
 
 " Indeed." 
 
42 \VOODCRAFT. 
 
 " Yes ; I have lost a number, and was quite satisfied not to 
 have lost all. The British have had their emissaries all over 
 the country, and some of those creatures, madam, were such as 
 we should little suspect. When you found me with Colonel 
 Moncrieff, I was endeavoring to procure some clews to their 
 detection, for it is impossible but that some of these wretches 
 will still remain in the country." 
 
 " Were you successful in your inquiries, sir ?" 
 
 "Not altogether; but I fancy I have some clews in regard to 
 one or more of our neighbors. You are aware, madam, that 1 
 have -become the proprietor of an estate near yours on the 
 Ashepoo ?" 
 
 "No, sir, I was not, whose, pray 1" 
 
 " Gillon s. I took it for a debt ; shall send up negroes to 
 work it, and hope to find myself on<3 of your neighbors in the 
 spring, if not before." 
 
 The lady bowed rather stiffly, but said nothing. The \vily 
 M Kewn construed her manner into a confirmation of his suspi 
 cions. If it had been her object to baffle his scrutiny in regard 
 to the missing paper, she had lost a point in the game. There 
 was a brief pause in the conversation, which M Kewn, at 
 length, resumed by returning to the subject of his interview with 
 Moncrieff. He told a very pretty little story of the ingenious 
 processes by which he had succeeded in recovering his negroes, 
 and concluded by stating that Moncrieff and himself had quar 
 relied finally. 
 
 " But I had the last word, Mrs. Eveleigh, and one that he 
 will remember. I was compelled to bear his insolence while the 
 British garrison was yet in possession, but, in the moment of his 
 departure, and when he could no longer exercise his power, I 
 gave him my opinion of his character." 
 
 .He then told of the final passage already detailed between 
 himself and Moncrieff. The note which he had put into the 
 hands of the latter, he described as full of the most stinging in 
 sult. The lady could not forbear the sarcasm, which she yet 
 uttered very quietly, and with a seeming unconsciousness of its 
 latent meaning. 
 
 " Certainly, a very daring proceeding, Mr. M Kewn. But, if 
 I recollect rightly, Wayne s advance was within a hundred 
 
PLOTS ALL POUND THE TABLE. 43 
 
 yards of you at the moment. Of that, however, you were un 
 aware." 
 
 A slight flush tinged the dark cheeks of M Kewn ; but he an 
 swered calmly. 
 
 "No, indeed, Mrs. Eveleigh I knew it well enough; and 
 knew that, were it otherwise, I should have perilled my neck to 
 have done what I did. There would have been no sense or 
 even courage in speaking freely, what I thought of the scoun 
 drel, at a time when I should have no power to contend with 
 him. I did all that I properly could in expressing my sense of 
 his rascality." 
 
 The lady appeared to hear him indifferently. He discovered 
 this, and soon after withdrew from her side. 
 
 "Fool !" thought Mrs. Eveleigh, as he moved away. "Does 
 he think to delude me with his inventions ?" 
 
 " She has the paper!" muttered M Kewn, at the same moment; 
 " and now to ascertain when she leaves town." 
 
 His spies were set accordingly ; and instructed to watch every 
 movement of the ./idow. They did their duty faithfully. The 
 very next day, the squatter, Bostwick, was in attendance upon 
 his employer 
 
 " Well, Bostwick, have you got the fellows 1" 
 
 " Five of the best bloodhounds in the country. But I must 
 have money for em. I m at great expense in keeping em. Jest 
 simple meat and drink won t answer to keep em quiet. You 
 must soak cm and stuff em; ef you leave an empty place in 
 em, they begins to be good and religious-like, and to talk about 
 sins and sich like matters." 
 
 "Pshaw!" 
 
 " It s mother-truth, I m telling you. There s no keeping em 
 properly sinful for your wants, onless I m a drenching and stuf 
 fing cm. It is something s a-wanting from morning to night. 
 They wants everything they sees or thinks about, and they say 
 they ve a right to all I can git." 
 
 " B\it you forget you agreed with them for a certain price." 
 
 " Yes ! that was the pay when the work was done. But I 
 was to keep them in the meantime, you know, and it s mighty 
 hard work. They re all asleep now at Broddus s, up the path. 
 They was most eternally drunk last night, broke all the win- 
 
$4 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 :lows, and killed Broddus s dog -so them s to be paid for. 
 Broddus says the windows is two dollars, and the dog cost him 
 two guineas." 
 
 " The devil ! And you expect me to pay this fellow ?" 
 
 " In course it s only reason seeing as how these boy.> ih in 
 your keeping." 
 
 " But I ll do no such thing." 
 
 " You ll liav to, M Kewn, so it s no use to kick agin it. They 
 will git drunk, and when they re drunk, they will splurge and 
 shine. There s no hendering em." 
 
 " And you ?" 
 
 " Oh ! I must drink with them, you know 
 
 " And splurge and shine too, I suppose ; Lreak windows, kill 
 dogs, and expect me to square the bill." 
 
 " In course. It s the life we lead, and belongs to the business, 
 and one part jest as much as the other. The man what sells 
 himself to the devil, must in nater hev a sort of devil s edica- 
 tion, and must play devil s tricks. It keeps the hand i^ lor 
 devil s business." 
 
 " Well, it s some consolation that we shall not have die keep 
 ing of such rascals very long. This woman leaves town next 
 week." 
 
 " Which day ?" 
 
 "Friday, I think but we shall find out." 
 
 " Friday, a bad day for a start. Hangman s day." 
 
 " Yes ; a bad day for her, as she will start then. You will 
 set out the day before, and choose your place of ambush. Re 
 member, Bostwick, you are not to fail. Your pay depends 
 upon it ; the negroes you will recapture, depend upon it 
 and your neck depends upon it; for she certainly has got th 
 paper." 
 
 "I reckon it s your neck jest as much as mine, M Kewn, MO 
 you ll jest please to stop with that sort of talking. Nobody 
 likes to have the rope and gallows constantly flung in his face, 
 jest when he s thinking of other things. As for my name on 
 the paper, it oughtn t to consarn me so much, seeing as how 1 
 didn t put it thar. But you did, and you put your own too, and 
 I reckon when they re h isting me on the cross-trees, they ll be 
 swinging you off to make room. Ef yo.u wants me to be reason- 
 
PLOTS ALL ROUND THE TABLE. lj 
 
 able and do your business, you ll jest stop with a sort of talk 
 which makes my blood bile agin you." 
 
 " Well ! well ! since you re so nice about this hanging, I ll 
 say rope to you no more." 
 
 " Better not t ain t zdvisable, no how. It s better to talk of 
 the business atween us. I must have money for the keeping of 
 the boys." 
 
 " Here is three guineas " 
 
 " Why, there s six on us." 
 
 "If there Averc sixty, I have no more money about me ; 
 
 "It takes pretty nigh a guinea* a day to keep em, as tli-y 
 expects to be kept." 
 
 " Damn their expectations ! Do they suppose me to be made 
 of money ? You must make them more reasonable, Bostwick, 
 for youyourself will lose by it in the end." 
 
 " I don t see." 
 
 " But I do ! make these three .guineas answer for the week 
 and come to rne at the end of it." 
 
 " I ll be sure to do that, whether the week s at an eend 01 
 not. Tiger-cats must be fed." 
 
 "Ay, but as tiger-cats only, and not as lions. Remember tho 
 difference, if you please. You have taken care that none of 
 them know me in the business ?" 
 
 " To be sure ? make yourself easy thai 1 ." 
 
 " Make yourself ready, and see that they are quite sober 
 tflieu the work is done ; and when you have got the negroes 
 and paper, push down the Edisto, where I will contrive to meet 
 you, and get the negroes off to the transport sloop. But we ll 
 talk over these particulars before you start." 
 
 Here the conference ended. We have been content to give 
 a sample of it only. There was much more said, unavoidably, 
 between the parties, which it is not necessary that we should 
 chronicle. The week passed, and M Kewn was called upon tc 
 disgorge other guineas, and meet other bills for damages done 
 by his dogs in keeping. Meanwhile, Mrs. Eveleigh was making 
 her preparations. On Wednesday, not on Friday, she set out 
 for her plantation, accompanied by her negroes, and those of 
 Porgy her overseer, and her son the latter a youth of 
 fifteen. But we shall introduce this lad more formally hereafter, 
 
WOODCRAFT 
 
 OL.APTER IX. 
 
 THE SOLDIER SURVIVES HIS OCCUPATION. 
 
 WE must now change the scene of operations, and introduce 
 new parties to our drama. Let us present ourselves at the camp 
 of Marion, at the head of Cooper river. The reader will, per 
 haps, have observed that, in speaking of the departure of the 
 British forces from the city of Charleston, and the grand entry 
 of the American troops at their heels, we said nothing of the 
 militia, the rangers, the famous Partisans, cavalry and, foot, of 
 Marion, Sumter, Maham, and the many other brilliant cavaliers, 
 whose sleepless activity, great audacity, and frequent successes, 
 had, perhaps more than any other influence, kept alive the 
 hopes and maintained the cause of liberty in Carolina, at a pe 
 riod when Fate seemed to have decreed the utter subjugation 
 of the country by the enemy. 
 
 The fact is, none of these gallant spirits were permitted to be 
 present at the reoccupation of the metropolis by the patriot 
 army ! They had shared the usual fortune of modest merit ; 
 had served their purpose, and had survived their uses. The 
 work done, the game won, they had been thrown aside, as the 
 orange sucked of its contents, with no more scruple or concern. 
 It will scarcely be believed, but such is the fact, that the militia 
 of the country were especially denied the privilege of being 
 spectators of the departure of that enemy against whom none 
 had battled more ceaselessly, more fearlessly, or with better suc 
 cess, than themselves. It might have been that they were too 
 nude to be seen on such a brilliant occasion. They were, verily, 
 very nigh to utter nakedness. They were mostly in rags. 
 Their rents of garment were closed by bandages of green moss. 
 Their shoulders and hips were thus, in like manner, padded, as 
 a protection against abrasion by the belts which they had to 
 wear, bearing their arms and ammunition. They were commonly 
 shoeless and hr.tless. Raw hides made the shoes of many, 
 
THE SOLDIER SURVIVES HIS OCCUPATION. 4 
 
 wrought roughly, moccasin fashion, into mere troughs for the 
 feet, the seams running down, and gathering up the edges of the 
 leather, from the instep to the toes. A fragment of coarse cot 
 ton, or a ragged handkerchief, wound about like a turban, was 
 the substitute with many for a hat ; while, with a still greater 
 number, the skins of "coon or possum," untaimed, untrimmed, 
 and with the tail jauntily stuck out on the side, made caps of 
 every pattern, and of fashions the most extraordinary. Their 
 weapons were of similar diversity ; from the long ducking gun 
 of the planter, to the short fusee of the German yager; the 
 heavy tower musket of George the Third, to the long rifle of 
 the mountain rangers from that section of the Apalachian slopes, 
 which divides, or rather unites, the states of North and South 
 Carolina and Georgia. Sabres, wrought from mill-saws, with 
 handles of common wood, graced the thighs of half the dragoons. 
 Such equipment would scarcely have made a brilliant show 
 ing in a scene so brilliant as that witnessed at the recovery of 
 Charleston. Whether it would not have been most noble and 
 impressive, as illustrating the true worth and honest patriotism 
 of the partisans, is a matter which the reader will take into 
 consideration. It, certainly, was not considered by the ruling 
 powers at that period, or considered only as calculated to sub 
 tract from the splendors of the triumphal pageant. But the 
 reasoning by which the militia were excluded from the sccno 
 was really of a more offensive and objectionable character. An 
 unworthy fear a dread of the power of a body of troops Avho 
 were supposed to be less easily brought under the control of 
 authority who were known to be dissatisfied, and who, it was 
 felt, had just cause for discontent and dissatisfaction was the 
 true secret of their exclusion from the scene. Badly armed ancl 
 worse clad, fighting for years amid a thousand other privations, 
 without pay, and almost without thanks or acknowledgment, 
 their achievements slurred over and disparaged, as they have 
 been too frequently since while the deeds of others were exag 
 gerated and clothed with a false lustre; it was apprehended 
 that, with the withdrawal of the enemy, they might be disposed 
 to assert their rights, and do justice to themselves. It is possi 
 ble they might have done so ; since humanity is not to be sup 
 posed capable, always, of forbearing the exhibition of a just 
 
48 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 indignation, under continued wrong and provocation. But the 
 possibility was still a very faint one. They had given no rea 
 son for the suspicion. Nay, they had been called in, and kept 
 ready, more than once, under Marion, to suppress the appre 
 hended outbreaks and insurrections of some of those very con 
 tinental troops who had been deemed worthy to be present at 
 the event which they were denied to behold. 
 
 A deep feeling of indignation, naturally enough, was awakened 
 among our partisans at this ungenerous exclusion. But it did 
 not declare itself, and could not, while under the leaders who 
 .nad so nobly conducted them throughout the war; and now 
 they were about to be disbanded to separate from their lead- 
 p. rs to pay the last honors of salute to the colors they had so 
 often watched in the heady storms and vicissitudes of battle, 
 and to retire to their homes sucb homes as a war of seven 
 years had left them homes in ruins; and to sink unhonored 
 into an obscurity which held forth little promise of distinction in 
 the future, and still less of improving fortunes. 
 
 It was in that tract of country, so often distinguished by Lis 
 active enterprise, lying near the head waters of Cooper river, 
 that Marion assembled his brigade for the purpose of dissolving 
 his connection with them, and their existence as a military soci 
 ety. Their number did not much exceed four hundred men, 
 infantry and horse. At an early hour of the morning, the stir 
 of preparation was begun, and, by nine o clock, the rolling 
 drums and sharp clamors of the bugle, summoned them to the 
 area of a noble wood of ancient cedars in which they were to 
 take leave of their well-beloved chieftain. At ten, the general 
 appeared among them, attended by all his staff. He was re 
 ceived in deep silence a. silence expressive of emotions too 
 solemn for shouts or words. His face, usually grave, wore a 
 still graver expression than was its wont. His words, always 
 few, were scarcely more copious now, when so much was to be 
 said, even if much was to be left unspoken. There was more than 
 his usual hesitation, in his manner, as he addressed them. His 
 tones slighty trembled, and thus spoke directly to their own 
 feelings. He spoke of their long services, their fidelity to him 
 self and country ; the honorable termination of their labors in 
 the field, .and the necessity of now sinking back to the no less 
 
THE SOLDIER SURVIVES HJ8 OCCUPATION. 49 
 
 honorable duties of the citizen. He assured them that, in him 
 his old "soldiers should always find a personal friend, who, what 
 ever might be the changes of the future, could never forget his 
 Rympathy and connection with the past. At the close, they 
 gathered about him, each eager to seize his hand in friendly 
 gripe. Nor was he the man to insist upon the dignities 
 and formalities of his position at such a moment. The com 
 mander was forgotten in the friend, and the leave-taking was 
 such as might be expected, at the breaking up and dispersion 
 of the members of an ancient and loving household. It was 
 midday before he left them, riding slowly away, attended by his 
 suite, and escorted by a small detachment of cavalry. Night 
 found the scene of the encampment silent no drums rolled 
 no trumpets sounded no fires were lighted. The cedars at 
 Watboo, were as lonely, as if they sheltered the graves only of 
 the brave fellows to whose living heads they had so long afforded 
 the most grateful protection. 
 
 W<3 can not follow the fortunes of our scattered partisans, pur 
 suing, as they did, a score of different routes, each with his 
 thought and heart turned upon some special home and object. 
 Bands of fifty might be seen, on horse or a-foot, taking the route 
 for Orangeburg ; other groups went northward, bound for Wac- 
 camaw and Peedee ; others again moved down the river, taking 
 one or other of the two routes conducting to Charleston, while 
 sundry squads sped directly southward, aiming for the Ashley, 
 the Edisto, the Ashepoo and the Savannah rivers ; from all of 
 which regions they had severally been drawn. 
 
 We will accompany one of these parties, a group consisting 
 of four persons, all well mounted, and, comparatively speaking, 
 all well armed and caparisoned. Two of them in fact are offi 
 cers. One of these is a stout, and somewhat plethoric gentle 
 man ; full, and smooth, and florid of face, with indubitable signs 
 of a passion for the good things of this life. His features are 
 marked and decisive, with a large capacious nose, a mouth rather 
 feminine and soft, and a chin well defined and masculine. But 
 for the excessive development of the abdominal region, his figure 
 would have been quite worthy of his face. He rode a noble 
 gray, of great size and strength, good blood and bottom, and 
 with his fires but little subdued by hard service. 
 
SO WOODCRAFT. 
 
 Beside this person, whose epaulettes showed him to have held 
 d captain s commission, rode a youth, who could not have beer 
 more than nineteen years of age He was slender and tall, but, 
 wiry and agile ; with features rather pleasing and soft, than ex 
 prcssive ; and which might have seemed somewhat lacking in 
 manliness hut for the dark bronzing which they had taken from 
 the sun. He was well mounted also, tolerably well dressed, and 
 wore the equipment of a cavalry ensign. 
 
 The third person of this party was a man of altogether in 
 ferior appearance, tall, rawboned, and awkward, with features 
 harsh and irregular, redeemed only by a certain frankness and 
 honesty of expression, which was derived from a large and gentle 
 eye of hazel, and a broad good-natured mouth. He carried an 
 enormous beard almost of lemon color, and his hair streamed 
 down his shoulders in waving masses, that faintly reminded you 
 of a falling mountain torrent. A stout chunk of a horse, of frame 
 not unsuited to his own, bore his weight. He wore no other 
 uniform than the common blue frock, or hunting shirt of the ran 
 gers, a cap of coon skin, and, for weapons, a broadsword, of im 
 mense dimensions as from the primitive forges of a son of Anak, 
 and a pair of common pistols. These weapons, we may add, he 
 could use with the left hand only the right being wanting. 
 He was one of the few who, in the miserable deficiency of the 
 militia service, had survived a hurt which had completely shat 
 tered the limb. His safety was due to his own stout heart, and 
 the unflinching promptness of the friend and superior whom he 
 followed. His right arm, torn into strips by a brace of bullets 
 from a musket held within a few paces, was stricken off at his 
 entreaty, by his captain, and the bleeding stump was thrust in 
 stantly into hot, seething tar. The wounds healed, Heaven 
 knows how, and he recovered. But for this proceeding he must 
 have perished. At that time there was not a surgeon in Ma 
 rion s brigade, and every hurt which affected the limbs of the 
 victim was certain to end in death. Serge.int Millhouse, the 
 man in question, became the devoted adherent of a superior, 
 who had the firmness to comply with the stern requisition of the 
 patient, and himself perform the cruol operation, which the suf 
 ferer bore without a groan. 
 
 The fourth party in this group is a negro a native African 
 
THE SOLDIER SURVIVES HIS OCCUPATION. 51 
 
 - the slave of the captain ; a fellow of flat head and tried fidel 
 ity ; of enormous mouth, hut famous as a cook; of a nose that 
 scarcely pretended to elevate itself on the otherwise plain sur 
 face of an acre of face ; but of a genius for stews that com 
 mended him quite as much as any other of his virtues to the 
 confidence and regards of his master Tom had a reputation in 
 camp, for his terrapin soups, which made him the admiration 
 of the whole brigade. He well knew his own merits, and was 
 always careful to be in condition to establish them. The sump- 
 ter horse which he rode was covered, accordingly, with a variety 
 of kitchen equipage. Pots and kettles were curiously pendant 
 from the saddle, strapped over the negro s thighs, or hanging 
 from his skirts. A sack, which exhibited numerous angles, car 
 ried other utensils, to say nothing of pewter plates, iron spoons, 
 knives and forks, and sundry odds and ends of bread and bacon. 
 Tom was really buried in his kitchen baggage. But this seemed 
 to offer no impediment, nor to be felt as an incumbrance. He 
 kept close to the heels of his master, and had as ready an ear 
 for all that was spoken, as any of his superiors. He was not 
 wanting, also, in the occasional comment the camp-life having 
 done much toward perfecting the republicanism of all the parties. 
 
 Our company had ridden a couple of hours from the time of 
 their withdrawal from the " Cedars," and the separation from their 
 ancient comrades ; and had compassed, perhaps, eight or ten 
 miles in this interval. Yet, but little conversation had taken 
 place among them, and, though they rode together, they main 
 tained comparative silence. Our captain, who bore the name 
 of Porgy, was almost the only speaker. He was one, in fact, 
 who possessed a liberal endowment of the gift of language, and 
 greatly delighted, on ordinary occasions, in his own eloquence. 
 But he, too, was influenced, in some degree, by the scene 
 through which they had so recently gone; by thoughts which 
 were now, perforce, required to meditate the future ; and by the 
 sterile country through which they were passing reaped by 
 the greedy sickles of the enemy, and sending up no cheerful 
 smokes from the homesteads of welcoming friends. 
 
 The day itself, from being bright at sunrise, had become over 
 cast with clouds. Chilly, without being cold, it added to the 
 feeling of clpH whi^h the circumstances of the day had naturally 
 
52 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 occasioned in their hearts. Nor did the solemn, stately, and 
 efer-murmuring and monotonous pine-forests through which 
 they rode by no means enlivened by occasional tracts of 
 scanty oak, stripped wholly of its foliage, or by the ruins of 
 ancient farms and decaying fences contribute to lessen the 
 feeling of melancholy which sensibly possessed our little group 
 of travellers. 
 
 At length, however, Captain Porgy broke the silence, as he 
 alone had hitherto done, by something that sounded monstrously 
 like an oath, but which we may render into more innocent lan 
 guage. 
 
 " By St. Bacchus, Lance, I must drink I must eat I must 
 be guilty of some fleshly indulgence ! Let us get down here. 
 There is a branch before us, the water of which I have tried 
 before. We have still a bottle of Jamaica. Tom must knock us 
 up a fry, and we must eat and drink, that we may not grow stu 
 pid from excessive thinking. If one must think, its most agree 
 able exercise, to my experience, is over toast and tankard. 
 Tom, light, old fellow, and get out your cookables. Lance, you 
 carry that Jamaica ; I would see if it loses any of its color in 
 these dark and drowsy times." 
 
 The command was instantly obeyed : though, to descend out 
 of his piles, to fling off straps to which hung pot and kettle, 
 bread and bacon, &c., was, to Tom, a sort of performance which 
 needed equal discretion and deliberation. He was extricated, 
 at last, though only with the assistance of Sergeant Millhouse ; 
 and, having relieved his horse of its luggage, he adjusted him 
 self to his tasks. Very soon, his box of tinder, flint and steel, 
 were in requisition, and he had kindled a pleasant blaze within 
 twenty steps of the running water. To this Captain Porgy, ac 
 companied by Lance, his lieutenant Lance Frampton being 
 the full name had at once proceeded; and already had he 
 brightened the clear, but rather unmeaning complexion of the 
 water, with the rich, red liquid of Jamaica. A pewter mug, of 
 moderate dimensions, sufficed for the embraces of the separate 
 fluids ; and having first, with his nostrils, inhaled the fragrance 
 of the rum, our captain held it to his eye for a moment, survey 
 ing it with a glance of decided complacency, before lie carried 
 it to his lips. He drank, smacked his lips with a sense of cor 
 
THE SOLDIER SURVIVES HIS OCCUPATION. 53 
 
 dial satisfaction, and offered the cup and bottle to Frampton. 
 But the latter declined the liquor respectfully, and, stooping to 
 the brooklet, drank directly from the running stream. Mill- 
 house, the sergeant, was more .easily persuaded, and Captain 
 Porgy, as he beheld him pour with liberal hand into the cup, 
 might have entertained some reasonable doubts of the propriety 
 and wisdom of suffering a man with but one hand to adjust his 
 own measures, particularly where the source of supply was so 
 distressingly small. But he suffered the soldier to help himself, 
 and, retiring a few paces, let himself down no easy matter 
 at the foot of a pine, where the straw of previous seasons afforded 
 a couch of tolerable softness. Hither, when the horses were 
 fastened, came the ensign, Frampton, while the sergeant, Mill- 
 house, bestowed himself more particularly upon Tom, the cook. 
 A hoarse sigh, that, issuing from a plethoric chest, might have 
 been held a groan, betrayed, in Captain Porgy, a more than 
 usually serious sense of his situation. The ensign, who had 
 thrown himself down on the opposite side of the tree, modestly 
 remarked 
 
 " I think, Captain Porgy, you are more sorrowful than I ever 
 saw you before. Indeed, I can t say that I ever saw you sor 
 rowful till now." 
 
 " Well : quite likely, Lance ; I have reason for it. Othello s 
 occupation s gone." 
 
 " Othello, captain? Was the gentleman a soldier?" 
 
 "Ay, indeed, a Moorish soldier! a blackamoor a sort of 
 negro of whom, it is quite likely, you have never heard of 
 whom you will, probably, hear no more than I shall tell you. 
 He was a famous fighter in his day ; but there came a day when 
 his wars were ended like ours and then ! " 
 
 " And then ?" 
 
 " He swallowed his sword through an artificial mouth !" 
 
 " What ? How ? Swallowed his sword ?" 
 
 " In other words, cut his throat !" 
 
 " What ! because he could no longer cut the throats of othei 
 people ?" 
 
 Partly that and reason enough, too ! Throat-cutting was 
 his business. Nobody ought to survive his business. Now, if I 
 were quite sure that my wars were wholly ended that I should 
 
54 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 never be permitted to cut throats again, according to law 
 I should certainly request of you the favor, Lance, as an 
 act of friendship, to pass the edge of your sabre across my 
 jugular." 
 
 " I should do no such thing, Captain Porgy." 
 
 " Oh, yes ! you would that is, if I particularly requested it; 
 pnd I don t know but I shall have to do so yet. You will cer 
 tainly oblige me, Lance, when the necessity shall arrive, and 
 when I make the entreaty." 
 
 " I don t think, captain. No ! I could never do it." 
 
 " Oh, yes, you will ; but the necessity is not apparent yet, 
 since my nose tells me that Tom has still some material left, by 
 which my throat shall find agreeable employment. I suppose, 
 so long as one may tickle his throat with fish, flesh, and fowl, 
 and soothe it with Jamaica, he may still endure a life relieved 
 of its usual occupations. But, this is the doubt, Lance. HOAV 
 long shall there be fish, and flesh, and fowl, and Jamaica ? I 
 ain a ruined man ! I go back to the ancient homestead of my 
 fathers, to find it desolate. Negroes gone, lands under mort 
 gage, and not a rooster remaining in the poultry-yard, to crow 
 me a welcome to dinner. Such a prospect does not terrify you. 
 You have not been reared and trained to position, and artificial 
 wants. You are young, just at the entrance of life, my dear 
 boy, and can turn your hand to a thousand occupations, each of 
 which shall supply your wants. Such is not the case with me. 
 At forty-five, neither heart nor head, nor hand, possesses any 
 such flexibility. A seven years apprenticeship to war has left 
 no resources in peace. Othello s occupation s gone! gone! 
 There is little or nothing now that I should live for; family, 
 wife, friends, fortune I have none ; loneliness, poverty, deso 
 lation these are the only prospects before me !" 
 
 This was spoken with so much real mournfulness, that it com 
 pelled the warmest sympathies of the youthful hearer, who, in 
 spite of many eccentricities on the part of the speaker, which he 
 failed to understand, and a strong and active selfishness, which 
 he comprehended well enough, had yet a real affection for his 
 superior. He crept near to Porgy, and said 
 
 " Oh ! it can t be as bad as all that, captain. You have many 
 friends. There s General Marion, and there s our colonel, and 
 
THE SOLDIER SURVIVES HIS OCCUPATION. 5& 
 
 many besides ; and you ve got a fine plantation, and I reckou 
 some of your negroes are left " 
 
 " Tom only ! The last accounts reported that every hair of a 
 negro was gone all carried off by the tories, I suppose, or the 
 
 British. As for the plantation, it s under mortgage to a d d 
 
 shark of a Scotchman ; and, even if it were riot, it would be 
 worth nothing without the slaves. I tell you, boy, I see no 
 remedy but to get my throat cut like a gentleman, and die in 
 my epaulettes and boots." 
 
 " Oh ! something will be sure to turn up, captain. Remember 
 what old Ben Brewer used to say when anything misfortunate 
 had happened Look up, I say, God s over all! God s 
 your friend, captain." 
 
 " Well, in truth, Lance, I ve so seldom called upon him, 
 among my other friends, that, perhaps, he might do something 
 for me now." 
 
 The irreverence was rebuked by his young companion in tlio 
 following terms 
 
 " Oh, captain ! don t talk so ! He s been doing for you all 
 along ! Who has taken care of you till now, when you re forty- 
 five years old 1 Who saved you so often in fight? and that s 
 another reason, captain, why you should have faith in his mer 
 cies. I reckon. God always puts in, at the right time, to save 
 people, if so be they only let him ! It s we that won t be saved, 
 and that s continually fighting against his mercies." 
 
 " You talk like an oracle, Lance ! One thing s certain, that 
 at times, when a fellow discovers that he can do nothing to save 
 himself, the best philosophy is to confide in powers superior to 
 his own. Of one thing, rest assured, my lad I shall never 
 hurry my own case to judgment. I should fear the judge s 
 charge would be against me, let me plead as I might, and be his 
 mercies as great as I could hope for. It will be always time 
 enough to end one s own history ; and since I ve escaped the 
 British bullet and bayonet, during a seven years service, I shall 
 certainly not use either to my own disquiet. The smell of Tom s 
 r ry, makes my philosophy more cheerful. It is, indeed, surpris 
 ing how a man s griefs dwindle away toward dinner time. Ho 
 Tom ! are you ready ?" 
 
 "Jos ready, maussa," was the prompt reply of the cook. 
 
56 WOODCIiAFT. 
 
 " Let us eat, Lance. I see that Millliouse has his cleaver out 
 already. Help me with an arm, my boy, while I rise to a sit 
 ting posture. I am no small person to heave up into perpen 
 dicularity." 
 
 Leaving our little group of partisans, for a while, let us return 
 to the widow Eveleigh, on her route homeward. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 AMBUSCADE. 
 
 MRS. EVELEIGH, as we have already stated, left the city for 
 her plantation on Wednesday, instead of Friday. The change 
 in her arrangements, called for a corresponding change in those 
 of M Kewn, and the squatter, Bostwick. The latter, with his 
 five confederates, or employees, took their departure on Tuesday ; 
 and, well knowing the route to be pursued by the widow, sped 
 rapidly for the Edisto, in the neighborhood of which river, they 
 proposed to plant their ambush. Their departure was quite a 
 relief to M Kewn, as it greatly lessened the expense to which 
 he was necessarily subject, so long as they remained in idleness, 
 and in a vicinity so full of temptations. 
 
 We need not note their progress. Conducted by Bostwick, 
 they were not long in reaching their hiding-places, and in tak 
 ing such a position, west of the Edisto, as would enable them 
 to fasten upon their prey at a bound. The excellent lady, un 
 suspicious of danger, set forth after breakfast on Wednesday 
 morning, in her great family carriage drawn by four stout horses. 
 The lumbering vehicle of that period need not be particularly 
 described. It is very well known that the carriages of that day 
 were huge, unsightly and heavy machines, very solid structures 
 of wood and iron, which, even when entirely empty, were a suf 
 ficient burden for their teams. When occupied by our widow, 
 her son, a youth of sixteen, a maid-servant of no small dimen 
 sions, sundry trunks, bags and boxes, filling up every foot of 
 space and condemned to a lonely progress over rough and 
 
AMBUSCADE. 57 
 
 heavy roads, it was inevitable that its movements must be slow. 
 Accordingly, it made no more rapid progress than the plantation 
 wagon which accompanied it, and in which several of the ne 
 groes found a place. One or two of these were mounted on 
 mules, while others, the more vigorous, walked, easily keeping 
 up with the carriage. Among these were the half-dozen ne 
 groes, belonging to Captain Porgy, whom, as we have seen, the 
 widow was so fortunate, and so firm, as to recover, with her own, 
 from the clutches of Moncrieff. The overseer of Mrs. Eveleigh, 
 Fordham, led the cortege, mounted on a clumsy, but powerful, 
 sumpter horse, and armed with the well-used long rifle of the 
 country. He. carried, besides, in holsters, a pair of large but 
 common pistols. Young Eveleigh was similarly armed. He 
 rode, sometimes with his mother in the carnage, but occasionally 
 left the vehicle for a little marshtacky, or poney, of Spanish 
 breed, such as is to be found very commonly about the parishes 
 of South Carolina to this day a light, hardy, lively creature, 
 very small, but of great endurance. Young Eveleigh was a 
 tall, handsome and vigorous youth, full of spirit, of a strong will 
 and resolute character. 
 
 Properly armed, the party, including the negroes, might have 
 laughed at any demonstration which could be made by the force 
 under Bostwick ; but, unsuspicious of danger, they had taken 
 no precautions against it, and travelled as carelessly along as if 
 their course lay through the pathways of the peaceful city. 
 Sometimes, Fordham and young Evdeigh rode together ahead ; 
 and other moments they were to be seen about the wagon and 
 negroes, in the rear; and, not unfrequently, when riding ahead, 
 they were out of sight both of wagon and carnage. Bostwick 
 had made all his calculations with due regard to what he knew 
 of the travelling habits of the people or^ such occasions. The 
 party had been suffered to cross the Edisto at Parker s, and had 
 made some progress upward and toward the Ashepoo, when the 
 hour for " nooning" approached. Of course, carriage and wagon 
 were both well provided with the necessary supplies of provis 
 ions ; as the lodging houses along the route, few at any time, 
 and with long intervals, had been very generally broken up dur 
 ing the M r ar, upon any but the great thoroughfares. 
 
 Fordham and young Eveleigh had ridden forward to find a 
 
 3* 
 
58 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 branch a stream of water or a spring, at which the party 
 might stop. A turn of the road had taken them out of sight 
 of the carriage. The region was well wooded; and the vehicles 
 were passing through a defile of the forest, more than commonly 
 dense. They had just passed an ancient Clubhouse, such as 
 may be found, to this day, throughout the parish country of 
 South Carolina; where, after the day s hunt, the gentry of the 
 surrounding district reassembled for dinner. The house had 
 been disused for this purpose, during the war, and was now in 
 ruins. The planks had been torn off from the frame, which 
 stood up an almost naked skeleton. The floor was gone the 
 roof could afford no shelter. Weeds and grass, still in rankest 
 luxuriance, environed the decaying fabric, in which, no doubt, 
 during the heats of summer, the serpent and the wild-cat found 
 frequent harborage. Just beyond this spot, a heavy timbered 
 forest spread away to the south, over a low, mucky tract, which 
 the deer and the bear could alone inhabit. The road wound 
 along the edges of this low region, pursuing the higher grounds. 
 It was while the carriage was passing through the dark shadows 
 of this defile, that it was suddenly arrested. The horses were 
 made rudely to recoil, and wheeled about ; the vehicle was thrust 
 directly across the road so as fairly to close it up. The shock 
 awakened Mrs. Eveleigh from a drowsy mood, while the cry of 
 the servant-maid who accompanied her, warned her of some 
 event wliich required her attention. At first, she fancied that 
 the horses were unruly ; but she was soon undeceived. The 
 ivords of the negro-girl 
 
 " Oh ! missis, look a dem black looking man ! He da ketch 
 de horse by de head." 
 
 At that moment the driver cried out 
 "Hello ! da wha you gwine do wid my bosses?" 
 He was silenced wifti a blow from a bludgeon delivered by n 
 hand which he had not seen, and which tumbled him fairly from 
 his seat. Two or three men, covered with masks, and dressed 
 with long, shaggy black hair, through which their wild dark eyes 
 only were visible, now appeared at the side of the carriage, the 
 door of which was torn open in an instant. 
 
 " Who ari you? What do you mean by this violence?" de 
 manded the widow, looking rery pale, but speaking very firmly. 
 
AMBUSCADE. 59 
 
 One of them replied harshly, seizing her by the wrist &s he 
 spoke 
 
 Come out, my good woman ! that we may have a good 
 look at your han some visage !" 
 
 " I will come out ! Release me. I need no help." 
 
 "All right, ma am; I m all ciwility !" said the fellow, as he 
 made way for her to descend. The negro-girl sat trembling in 
 the carriage, after her mistress had got out. 
 
 " Out with you, Jenny!" cried the spokesman, taking the ser 
 vant by her ears, and with so much effect that siie screamed 
 violently. 
 
 " Shut up your fish-trap, you ," he cried, with a terrible 
 
 voice and oath, " or I ll tear out your tongue, and eat it without 
 bread or gravy." 
 
 The threat, and the action by which it was accompanied, 
 caused her to redouble her screams, and to cling the closer to 
 the vehicle; upon which, the other jumped in, and tumbled her 
 out headlong, as if she had been a bale of cotton. He then pro 
 ceeded, Avith singular industry, to search the carriage : posses 
 sing himself, among other things, of a richly inlaid mahogany 
 case, which he drew from beneath the seat. By this time, his 
 confederates had cut the traces, and freed the horses. The ser 
 vant-girl continued her screams, until flung down, and her mouth 
 bandaged an operation which was performed by one of the 
 HSsailants, with the celerity of an old practitioner. The widow 
 Eveleigh, meanwhile, stood silent, anxious, breathless, with ex 
 pectation and apprehension, but maintaining a noble and fear 
 less demeanor. At this moment, a pistol-shot was heard ahead 
 then another, and another. At the sound the lady could not 
 suppress the murmur 
 
 " My son -my son ! My God ! protect my son !" 
 
 She clasped her hands with increasing apprehensions, while 
 the new terrors in her face were too strong for concealment; 
 her knees trembled beneath her, and she sank back for support 
 against a tree. Two of the assailants had remained with the 
 carriage. These started into activity as the sound of the fire 
 arms reached them. They came from the road in front, along 
 which young .Eveleigh and Fordham had ridden. A moment only 
 did the outlaws pause ; then, simultaneously, darting forward 
 
60 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 they hurried in the direction of the scene of action. The wido\n 
 watched them with eager terrors, as they sped along, chiefly 
 under cover of the trees, pursuing the roadside, but avoid 
 ing, as much as possible, the exposure of their persons. Sud 
 denly she saw them crouch beneath opposite trees, and, in a 
 second or two after, the tramp of a horse, at a run, smote tli oil- 
 cars. At the sound, one of them raised a light carbine which 
 he carried, and which he cocked in readiness. He had scarcely 
 done so, when young Eveleigh came in sight, pushing the pony 
 to the utmost. Then was heard the cry of the mother at the 
 top of her voice but very faintly, at that distance; reaching 
 the cars of the banditti only : 
 
 " Back, Arthur, back, my son. Beware ! beware ! There are 
 enemies in ambush !" 
 
 The youth seemed to hear, and appeared disposed to gather up 
 his horse : but he was anticipated by the ambush. A shot was 
 fired, and the little steed went down, forward on his face, pitch 
 ing the youth over his head. The two assailants then darted 
 out of their place of hiding, and threw themselves upon him as 
 he was feebly endeavoring to rise. He struggled as well as he 
 could, being evidently somewhat stunned by his fall ; but what 
 could his unhardened sinews avail in a struggle with two ruffians, 
 practised in all soils of encounter, with frames well set, and in 
 the full vigor of manhood ! While they held him down, pre 
 paring to bind his arms, the mother rushed toward them, crying 
 aloud 
 
 "Spare him, spare my son, and you shall have all all! 
 Any thing ! only spare him ! Let him rise !" 
 
 She did not wait to see the effect of her entreaty, but pushed 
 in between the assailants. It was a noble exhibition of mater 
 nal courage, reckless for herself, moved only by the one im 
 pulse of love and devotion to her young. One of the ruffians 
 seized her and bore her back, while the other kept his knee 
 upon the breast of the youth. 
 
 " My son ! my son ! Spare him ! spare him !" she continued 
 to cry, " and I will give you everything." 
 
 " Shut up, good woman, shut up ! There s no danger, ef the 
 young cub will only keep quiet. There s no harm done him 
 yit; and none will happen to him ef so be he has sense enough 
 
AMBUSCADE. 1)1 
 
 not to provocate us. I reckon lie s done some mischief 
 a ready. See, Fire Dick" to his companion "both pistols 
 is empty." 
 
 As he spoke, two follows, masked and bearded like himself, 
 with false hair, and great handkerchiefs muffling their heads and 
 faces, ran toward them from above. To these, the bandit who 
 had just spoken addressed himself 
 " Well ! How goes it ]" 
 
 " Bad enough ! Bill Sykes is on his back, and hasn t a word 
 for a dog. This young bull-pup has laid him out with a bullet 
 through the head." 
 
 A fierce glance from all parties was addressed to the young 
 man ; and, having secured the prisoners from whom they had 
 most to fear, they drew aside for a moment to consult. 
 
 " What hev you done with the overseer, Fordham ?" de 
 nuinded one who seemed to" be the leader, and who was, in fact, 
 the squatter, Bostwick. 
 "He s fast." 
 
 " You lievn t killed him ?" 
 
 " No ; only stunted him with a backstroke over the head and 
 neck, and then tied him down to a sapling." 
 " Is he safe ?" 
 
 " I reckon ! He don t move, and kaint !" 
 How was iU" 
 
 " Why, he got down to drink at the branch, and when lie was 
 drinking, Bill Sykes jumped out of the bush, and knocked him 
 into the water with the butt-eend of his rifle. As the young 
 fellow seed that, setting on his -horse, he let fly at Bill, first one 
 shot, then another, though I reckon twas the first bullet that 
 did the thing. Then he wheeled about, and went off at full 
 speed. I pulled on him, but twas only a snap ; and we had to 
 turn about, Sam and me, to manage Fordham, who had raised 
 himself up out of the water, and was aiming to get at his horse 
 and holsters, where we saw he had two pistols. But I gin him 
 a settler, side of his head, which sprawled him, and Sam took up 
 his horse." 
 
 " Well, we must see to business. Bill Sykes, you say, wants 
 no help ?" 
 
 He s ate his last bacon !" 
 
62 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 "Let him lie then, till we see to our work. We must pw 
 up the niggers, and be off. There s not much time." 
 
 "Did you gut the carriage, BosU" demanded one of the fel 
 lows. 
 
 " No ! there s nothing much, I reckon." 
 
 " No money ?" 
 
 "Not that I see but I hevn t looked in yet." 
 
 " I ll see to that," said Fire Dick, otherwise Dick Nbrfis. 
 
 Each of the parties darted off in the direction of the earring* 
 and wagon, except Bostwick ; who, having already quietly pos 
 sessed himself of the mahogany box of Mrs. Eveleigh, which lu 
 had somehow contrived to conceal from all parties in the bushes 
 seemed to take the further adventure quite coolly. To him, as, 
 he stood, apparently meditating, the widow now advanced. Hei 
 son lay bound and writhing beside the road. 
 
 "Is ,your purpose plunder]" she demanded of the squatter. 
 " Take, then, all that is in the carriage and wagon money, 
 goods but release my son, and let us go." 
 
 "You ve got money in the carriage]" asked the squatter. 
 
 "Fifty guineas only, which you will find in a small mahogany 
 box beneath the seat." 
 
 " Hem ! Well ! What else in the box ?" 
 
 " Nothing but a few papers of value to nobody but myself." 
 
 " We must see to that ! Do you come with me. The young 
 fellow has killed one of our people. That must be paid for 
 for, as the Bible says life for life ! " 
 
 "Take all!" she exclaimed, "all as I said before, and let 
 us go." 
 
 " Twon t do ! We ve got all that s here, a ready. There must 
 be nore, ef you would save the young un from a dog s death." 
 
 " What, more ! How shall I pay you 1 What sum ? When ]" 
 
 " We ll think about that ! But, jest now, look you, I must 
 put a little hitch about your arms." 
 
 He pulled a bundle of cord from his pocket as he spoke. 
 
 "You will not dare !" exclaimed the lady, drawing herself up 
 with loathing and indignation in her face. Her indignation was 
 felt by her son. The youth shrieked in fury, and writhed des 
 perately in his bmds. But the ruffian was unmoved, and laid 
 his hand upon the arm of the widow. At first she recoiled her 
 
eyes were filled with such gleams of anger, as promised des 
 perate struggle. 13ut she subdued herself; feeling thai any 
 effort at resistance must only expose her to worse indignities. 
 With this reflection she held out her wrists. 
 
 " Well ! I call that sensible and civil," cried the ruffian : 
 "hut the other way, ma ani behind your back, ef you please. 
 You see, ef I was to tie your hands in front, you might gnav 
 through." 
 
 The calculating rascal ! Again the lady recoiled with a nat 
 aral feeling of loathing and indignation ; again, however, the 
 reflection of a moment caused her to subdue it. 
 
 "Now, ma am, ef you please," continued the ruffian, "you ll 
 jest set down with your back to this sapling. You kin lean 
 agin it, you see. Twill be a help to you." 
 
 She sat down passively, and suffered herself to be fastened to 
 the tree. 
 
 " Now, I ll jest warn you to keep quiet. Twill be no use to 
 hellow, for there s nobody to hear you but our own people ; and 
 they ll not be ovcrquick to help you, onless it s out of the world ; 
 for they don t like a woman s hollering when there s no help for 
 it ; and it won t take them much to make ern knock you and 
 the young fellow over the head." 
 
 With no more words, having made both the parties as secure 
 as possible, the bandit turned off to join his comrades, leaving 
 the widow with a soul swelling to bursting with fruitless indig 
 nation, with fear and ill-suppressed rage, for which she could 
 find no relief even in feminine tears. But, when she looked 
 upon her son, terror, in respect to his danger, suspended every 
 other feelmg. 
 
 "Oh! Arthur my son ! my son ! What is to become of 
 us 1 They will kill you, my son ; they will kill us both !" 
 
 The son groaned in answer, and once more writhed desper 
 ately, but vainly, in his bonds. Exhausted with his ineffectual 
 struggles and humbled by the sense of shame and impotence, 
 tears, big and scalding, gushed from his eyes, which he closed, 
 in very mortification, as if to conceal the weakness which he 
 could not control. 
 
64 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 s 
 
 A CHANGE IN THE ASPECT OF AFFAIRS. THE MOUSE ONAWr 
 
 THROUGH THE LICN S MESHES. 
 
 HALF an hour might have elapsed, or even a longer period, 
 and the outlaws had all disappeared from the sight of the two 
 fettered parties having now addressed themselves to the duty 
 of capturing the negroes, and overhauling the wagon, which 
 slowly followed in the rear. But few words had passed be 
 tween the mother and her son. They had nothing consoling 
 in their thoughts, and no motive, accordingly, for speech. They 
 crouched, gloomy, wretched, and full of apprehensions, on the 
 spot, and against the trees to which they had been separately 
 fastened ; when the ear of the widow caught a rustling sound 
 among the bushes behind her, and a moment after heard a 
 voice, which she readily recognised as that of her maid-servant, 
 Jenny. It was at this moment that she remembered that the 
 ruffian who ordered the girl from the coach, and finally hurled 
 nor out of it, had called her by her true name a fact to be 
 remembered. 
 
 The girl had been much more fortunate than her mistress. It 
 is true, the outlaws, provoked by her clamors, had bandaged her 
 jaws ; but they had neglected, in their anxiety to secure the 
 widow and search the carriage, to bandage her arms also. The 
 sly negro, in the general confusion, and not being a conspicuous 
 personage, was allowed to crawl away unperceived into the 
 bushes ; and, in the variety of interests which the outlaws had to 
 consult, remained, for a time, altogether unremembered. While 
 the two, having charge of the widow, ran forward to plant an 
 ambush for the son, the girl had found close shelter in the thick 
 ets had succeeded in stripping the bandage from her jaws, and 
 had so far recovered her wits, or her instincts, as to feel tbe 
 desire of being useful. Keeping still the cover of the thicket, 
 she had wound her way along the road, though at a safe dis- 
 
A CHANGE IS" THE ASPECT OF AFFAIRS. 65 
 
 tance from it, toward the spot subsequently marked by the 
 struggle with young EvoJeigh, and the pinioning of himself and 
 mother; and now she stood, but a few paces distant in the 
 wo*ods, seemingly afraid to venture out upon the public road, 
 on the margin of which the captives had been bound. Her 
 object was to feel if the coast was clear. She could see her 
 mistress and the youth, from her place of harborage, but the 
 highway, up and down, was beyond her survey. 
 
 " Hi. missis, hi ! Da me ! Da Jinney ! I jis* want for 
 know ef dem black people gone." 
 
 " Oh ! Jenny, yes ; I don t see them !" 
 
 " Look up de road, missis, ef you kin. Le* me yer [hear] 
 wha you kin see up de road, fus,, fore I come." 
 
 " I see nothing but the carriage, Jenny. I see no person 
 about it. They are gone, but I hear a noise." 
 
 " I yer dat noise too, but he s fur away on do road. I kin 
 come out den ?" 
 
 "Yes you may but look sharp, Jenny." 
 
 " Yer s me !" cried the girl, emerging from the wood. " Lor* 
 a mussy ! an he tie you, and mass Art ur ! De black deb- 
 bils he tie you, missis ? You got knife ?" 
 
 " Put your hand in my pocket you will find one." 
 
 " I liab im le me cut you loose." 
 
 " Arthur first, Jenny," said the mother, earnestly. But the 
 girl was already slashing away at the ploughlines which had 
 been used to secure the mistress. In a moment her arms were 
 free. The mother then seized the knife herself to perform the 
 grateful office of giving freedom to her son. A few more sec 
 onds sufficed for this, and the youth sprang up with a new 
 sense of manhood, and full of a fierce desire for the conflict. 
 
 "Now, Arthur, my son, fly to the woods hide yourself 
 see if you can find a horse, and speed for help." 
 
 " No indeed, mother," cried the youth, resuming his empty 
 rifle and pistols, which had been suffered to lie where they had 
 fallen in the scuffle ; " do you and Jenny take to the woods. 
 Push down for the swamp, which is only a few hundred yards 
 below, and there hide yourself." 
 
 " What do you propose to do, Arthur ?" she asked in some 
 trepidation, seeing him proceed to reload his rifle ; the outlaws 
 
66 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 having thought it quite unnecessary to deprive him of his pow 
 der-horn and pouch. 
 
 " I must see after Fordham, mother. They may have killed 
 him, or bound him, as they bound us. If he lives, there are 
 two of us, both armed " 
 
 " But two, Arthur, against six." 
 
 " Five only, mother, now! One you recollect " 
 
 "Yes, yes!" 
 
 " Well, two against five, both armed, is no bad ambush : and 
 we shall surprise the rascals. You will see." 
 
 " But if poor Fordham should have been killed, my son ?" 
 
 " I will revenge him !" cried the noble boy, driving home the 
 bullet, and, immediately after, bounding off along the road in the 
 direction of the spot where Fordham had been knocked down. 
 His mother wrung her hands passionately. She dared not call 
 out after him, lest she should alarm other ears ; and it was only 
 with a great effort of will that she controlled her feelings, and 
 adopted the youth s counsel, by burying herself in the woods 
 beyond. Yet she only put herself in partial cover. Her anxi 
 ety led her still to pursue a course parallel with the road, keep 
 ing the same direction with her son. 
 
 It did not require many minutes to enable Arthur Eveleigh to 
 cover the space between, and to reach the borders of the creek 
 where the outlaws had attacked the overseer and himself. 
 There were all the signs of the struggle between Fordham and 
 the ruffian who assailed him ; but Fordham was not to be seen. 
 While the youth looked about in wonder, he heard his name 
 called by some one in the wood, and reasonably conjectured the 
 person to be the one he sought. He pushed through the bushes 
 to the spot, and found him, bruised and beaten, hardly well re 
 covered from the stunning blow by which he had been felled to 
 the ground but otherwise not injured. He was tied down to 
 a sapling, as the widow and the youth had been ; and beside 
 him, within a couple of feet, lay the corpse of the outlaw, stark 
 and stiff, whom Arthur himself had slain a spectacle which 
 made the boy shudder, and grow suddenly sick ; but which poor 
 Fordham had been compelled to endure for a goodly hour ! 
 
 But time was pressing. The exigency of the case did not 
 allow Arthur Eveleigh 1o give way to any nervous emotions, 
 
A CHANGE IN THE ASPECT OF AFFAIRS. 67 
 
 however natural. Their assailants, as the two reasonably ap 
 prehended, might be soon again upon them, and the youth, 
 strongly exerting his moral nature, overcame his sickness, ana 
 cut the cords which fettered the overseer. Fordham, on his 
 feet, rapidly recovered himself. His own rifle, and that of the 
 dead man, lay together, with an old pistol belonging to the out 
 laws. Of these, Arthur and himself took quick possession. 
 
 " And now," said Fordham, " I want to see if I can make out 
 this carrion." 
 
 And he stooped to examine the body of the slain man. But 
 Arthur turned away though a strange fascination seemed, a 
 moment after, to compel him to gaze upon the face of the vic 
 tim, from whose head Fordham had removed a wilderness of 
 false, black, and matted hair. The whiskers came off with like 
 readiness. 
 
 " He s a stranger to me," said Fordham. " He s a mighty 
 bad face, and here s a cut over his cheek, a great slash, that 
 looks as if twas done with a broadsword, and it hasn t been so 
 very long. I reckon he was some toiy. Your shot was well 
 p inted, Mr. Arthur it s gone, I reckon, straight through his 
 heart. It s worked a most, amazin big hole in his bosom. See 
 to that." 
 
 The youth looked as directed, but turned away quickly. 
 
 " Enough, Fordham ! We have precious little time. We had 
 better be loading, and putting- ourselves in readiness." 
 
 " What s to be done 1 Where s your mother ?" 
 
 c< In the woods with Jenny. I told her to push into the 
 swamp where she could hide ;so close that a hundred men 
 couldn t find her in a three dttys^ search " 
 
 " Onless it so happened ! But you are right. And what now 
 are we to do ]" 
 
 "There are two of us there are four or five of these out 
 laws. They have gone down the road, but will probably return. 
 We can ambush them, as they ambushed us ; we have three 
 rifles, and as many pistols." 
 
 Good, Mr. Arthur ! But to ambush them, we must hide 
 t other side of the spot where they tied you and your mother. 
 If they git to that spot and find you gone, they ll take the 
 woods on us." v 
 
68 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 " True ! Let s push for it, Fordham. " 
 
 " I m consenting," answered the other, who had just finished 
 loading the two rifles. These he took on his shoulder. The 
 pistols were loaded also, and the whole stock of arms pretty 
 equally divided between the two. In a few moments they 
 struck into the woods, Fordham taking the lead, and following 
 the edge of the road, with a bold stride, yet a vigilant eye to 
 every bush that stirred. He had recovered all his energies, and 
 now showed himself, as he was, a thorough master of woodcraft. 
 We leave the two in their progress ; having almost reached the 
 spot where the carriage had been halted and turned across the 
 rond. At this moment, and when Arthur, seeing nothing, w*>5? 
 nbont to push forward, Fordham caught his wrist, suddenly, and 
 drew him back into the shelter of the thicket. Let us leave 
 them, and look after our outlaws for a while. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 HOW BLACKBIRDS ARE TAKEN, AND HOW BLACKBIRDS FLY 
 
 HAVING, as they fancied, secured the only persons who were 
 likely to give them any trouble having ransacked the carriage, 
 and taken into their own keeping any small valuables which 
 had previously eluded their search our banditti, under the con 
 duct of the squatter, Bostwick, now prepared to turn their atten 
 tion upon the negroes and the approaching wagon. This vehicle 
 might have been three quarters of a mile in the rear of the car 
 riage when the latter was arrested, the inmates taken captive, 
 and the assault made upon Fordham and young Arthur. Of 
 these events, the negroes, by whom the wagon was accompanied 
 and driven, had no sort of conjecture, at the moment when they 
 happened. The road was one of those admirably circuitous 
 ones, so common in our forest country, which seldom afford yon 
 a direct survey of the route for three hundred yards together ; 
 and, trudging on, with tongues incessantly employed, singing or 
 talking, the negroes had ears for no sounds but those which 
 they themselves produced. The wagon was mostly filled with 
 
HOW BLACKBIRDS ARE TAKEN. 69 
 
 Htores, sugar, coffee, flour, bacon, blankets, and negro clothes. 
 These loaded it rather heavily for the six mules by which it was 
 drawn. To this load you may add, at intervals, two or three 
 of the negroes, who, from temporary lameness, or a less degree 
 of strength than the rest, were permitted, occasionally, to relieve 
 their fatigue by a lift in the wagon. 
 
 One of these negroes, belonging to Captain Porgy, was, by 
 the way, an expert violinist. His only possession was a cracked 
 and ancient fiddle, the seams of which had been carefully, but 
 roughly, closed with resin from the pine trees, gathered as he 
 passed. With this instrument he contrived to increase the noise 
 and the merriment which still accompanied their progress, and 
 to lessen the consciousness of fatigue on the part of his com 
 panions. Pomp, or Pompey that was his name as might 
 be expected, was a great favorite ; and his plea of lameness, we 
 may add, was not examined too closely by the driver of the 
 wagon, when it was remembered that his violin could be made 
 to work while he played. The negroes were fourteen in num 
 ber, seven of them being the property of Mrs. Eveleigh, the 
 rest of Captain Porgy all of whom, with one exception, had 
 been recovered from the clutches of the insatiate Colonel Mon- 
 crieff and his colleagues. These were all walking, with the ex 
 ception of the wagoner, Tobias, Pomp, the violinist, and Dembo, 
 a young fellow of sixteen the two latter being within the 
 wagon Dembo looking out from the opening of the cover, in 
 the rear, while Pomp occupied a similar position in front ; the 
 post of honor being naturally claimed for the violin. Tobias 
 bestrode the wheel-horse immediately in front of him, and when 
 Pomp was not actually playing, he and Tobias kept up a run 
 ning commentary upon the ways before them, the events through 
 which they had passed* their recent captivity in the British 
 huik, and their fortunate escape at the very last moment. Thus 
 travelling and employed, the party at length wound its way 
 slowly into the plain, at the farthest opening of which perhaps 
 a quarter of a mile distant the carriage of the widow could 
 now be seen, awkwardly enough, turned directly across the 
 road. 
 
 The situation of this vehicle was first beheld by the pioneer 
 of the party, an able-bodied, fine-looking fellow, named John, 
 
TO WOODCRAFT. 
 
 or John Sylvester, as he preferred to be called, after a former 
 owner by whom he had been reared. John was a calm, and 
 rather thoughtful fellow, of quick comprehension, keen sight, 
 and good judgment. He stopped immediately, looked earnestly 
 about him, and, after surveying, for a few moments, the situa 
 tion of the carriage, he turned quietly back to the wagon and 
 his companions. 
 
 "Look yer, Toby" speaking to Tobias, the wagoner 
 " dem hoss of missis nebber tu n dat carriage cross de road, as 
 you see em. He hab somebody for tu n em so, for sure." 
 
 " Ki !" quoth Tobias, looking out and drawing up his team, as 
 he gazed, "wha* dat? He choke up de road for sure. Sartin, 
 John, de hoss nebber tu n em so hese f [heself] ! 
 
 " Nebber !" continued John ; " and you see nudder t ing, Toby 
 de hoss tek out and gone ! He nebber tek out hese f." 
 
 "Da s true! Wha dis !" 
 
 " Now, Toby, you hab eye ! Look to de little wood ob 
 scrubby oak; you see? You see hoss hitch, and der s a coal 
 black hoss hitch wid udder hoss in dat scrubby oak ?" 
 
 " I see ! Coal black hoss dey, for true, John." 
 
 " Missis ain t got no coal black hoss, Toby." 
 
 " Nebber." 
 
 " Toby, I m jubous, der s somct ing wrong in dis bis ness. 
 
 Boy, you member dat d n poor buckrah, Bossick ? He hab 
 
 big, rawbone, coal black hoss, same time he catch we, and carr} 
 we to town." 
 
 " You sure he been Bossick was catch we, John ?" 
 
 " Enty I know ! He big beard like goat, and head o hair 
 
 like wolf, nebber been blin me so I can t tell the d n blear 
 
 eye son ob a skunk. I smell em out, same as pole-cat, in my 
 nose. I tell you, Toby, Bossick was the same poor buckrah 
 been nab we. He de same one was ride de rawbone black. He 
 can t fool dis nigger. I m jubous dat is Bossick hoss you see 
 dey in de scrubby oak. I m jubous Bossick is yer in dese parts 
 I t ink I feel de smell of de pole-cat in my nose jes now. Dat 
 carriage aint cross de road for nuttin [nothing]." 
 
 "Well wha for do?" demanded Toby, in considerable ex 
 citement. 
 
 "Da s de fin?; but I tell you Toby, John Sylvester neb 
 
HOW BLACK WKDS AUE TAKEN. Ti 
 
 her guine le Joe Bossick put lie dirty, poor buckrah paw pon 
 him shoulder agen ! I nebber guine back to clat d n salt 
 water hole in de wharf, ef I kin help it. You mus do wha you 
 kin! You can t lef de bosses dat you know. But, dis nig 
 ger will hide hese f in de wood, and be ready for a run ; and 
 you better gi all dese niggers a chance. Better we bury wesc f 
 up to do neck in de swamp, where we knows de varmints, dan 
 le em carry we off to de British hulk, I m a finking." 
 " You right ! But wha me for do ?" 
 
 " You stick to de wagon. You will hab for dribe, you know. 
 But Pomp kin skip out wid me ; and Dembo dere ; and any ob 
 de fellows wha chooses, kin mek track [run] same as you see 
 me mek em." 
 
 " But you aint guine run fore you see wha s a-coming r* 
 " No ! But I guine to stan ready for wha s a-coming, boy. 
 You see dat close t ick [thick or thicket] pon de lef ob de road ? 
 
 I m jubous der s some d d varmint, like a poor buckrali, da s 
 
 a-lyin close pon de lookout in dat same t ick. You dribe slow; 
 I watch em. Da s all. You yer [hear], boys ? Jes wha you 
 see me do, ef you hab sense, you guine do de same as me. De 
 larne nigger wha can t run, le em lie close and kick ! Ef Bos- 
 sick nebber see nigger legs fore to-day, I spec he will hab 
 sight dis time ! Yer!" 
 
 Thus warned and counselled, the negroes were all on the 
 lookout. John Sylvester, for his own part, took care to suffer 
 the wagon to keep between himself and the suspicious wood he 
 had pointed out. Pomp, the violinist, slipped out of the wagon, 
 still keeping his fiddle in hand, and followed in the steps of 
 John. The other negroes, with one or two exceptions, seemed 
 rather stupefied and undetermined, at the notion that they were 
 in some peril of a return to captivity. They crowded together 
 ., the tail of the wagon, as a flock of sheep threatened an all 
 sides. Tobias drove slowly, keeping up a soliloquy, in under 
 tones; which betrayed his fear to his mules if to no other audi 
 tors. In this way, the party had advanced about a couple of 
 hundred yards, when a shrill Avhistle was heard from the thicket 
 to which John had pointed. Tobias drew up at the same h> 
 stant. 
 
 " You ye r [hear] John Sylbester V quoth Tobias. 
 
"I ye r, Toby ! You drihe on! Don t yon stop! Ef you 
 see anyt ing like trouble, gee de mule de whip, and push. We 
 only scben mile from home, T t ink." 
 
 " Wha tlat 1" cried Tobias. " I see buckrali, for true." 
 
 "In de t ick?" 
 
 " He da peep !" 
 
 " Ha ! de d d snake in de grass !" was the brief commen 
 tary of John, as, squatting, he peered beneath the wheels of the 
 wngon. The mules were again in motion. Hardly had they 
 advanced ten paces, when there was a rush from the thicket. A 
 couple of fierce looking brigands, black with hair, and beard, and 
 smut appeared a little in front of the mules, each carrying a rifle 
 in his grasp. At that moment, John Sylvester disappeared in 
 the opposite woods ; Pomp, still carrying his fiddle, close in his 
 wake. They had barely gained the cover, when three other 
 bandits made their demonstration close beside the wagon. 
 
 " Stop, there, you d d black Belzebub !" was the cry of 
 
 one of them to the wagoner, who now began to whip up his 
 weary and sluggish mules. The negroes, recovering their con 
 sciousness and energies, proceeded to scatter in various direc 
 tions ; but in a state of confusion, which left them doubtful 
 which way to go. The mules were forcibly arrested, and taken 
 out of the wagon. Tobias was tumbled from his perch, still 
 grasping the lines. 
 
 " Hello ! mussa ! wha dis ?" demanded the poor fellow. 
 
 A rude blow of the fist, dexterously planted in his jaws, muz 
 zled him completely ; and wliile one of the party roped him, the 
 others scattered in pursuit of the flying negroes. A terrible 
 summons, followed by a pistol-shot, fired over their heads, 
 brought three or four of them to a dead halt. In fear and trem 
 bling they suffered themselves to be caught and corded by a 
 single pursuer. With these, Tobias, and a lame fellow in the 
 wagon, the brigands found themselves in possession of six of the 
 the fugitives. There were still eight to be taken, and, leaving 
 one of their number in charge of the captives, two of the four 
 dashed into the opposite woods whither most of the negroes had 
 been seen to fly ; while the remaining two hurried back to their 
 norses, in order the better to resume the chase. 
 
"TOO QUICK ON TRIGGER," 73 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 "TOO QUICK ON TRIGGER." 
 
 IT will be remembered, at the close of the scene that Wit 
 nessed the extrication of young Arthur from his bonds, and the 
 recovery of Fordham, the overseer, that these two had advanced 
 to the place where the assault had been made upon the carriage; 
 and that, when the former was about to emerge eagerly from 
 cover, he was arrested suddenly by his companion, in conse 
 quence of some discovery which had been made by the latter. 
 The discovery was that of the horses of the party, which, as 
 we have seen, were all fastened to swinging limbs of trees, in 
 the cover of a little clump of scrubby oaks. The quick, saga 
 cious experience of Fordham, at once showed him the advantages 
 which were promised by this discovery. 
 
 " Stop, Mr. Arthur; we must think a little." 
 
 "What do you see, Mr. Fordham?" 
 
 " The horses ! Our horses, and those of the inimy." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 " Yonder ; in them scrubby oaks." 
 
 "We have them!" cried the youth eagerly, seeing the uses 
 of the discovery at a glance. 
 
 " Perhaps !" replied the other. " The first thing is to know if 
 any one watches the horses. We must see to that. We must 
 fetch a compass through the woods, and come in on the back of 
 them. I must give you a lesson in woodcraft. We are to see 
 without being seen. If they see us, we lose all that we have 
 gained. A rifle shot from behind a log may tumble both of us, 
 and these rascals won t stop at a shot, if they see us making at 
 them with we pons in our hands. Let us round this thick, and 
 git across the road above." 
 
 The caution necessary, rendered the operation a tedious one ; 
 but it was managed with perfect success by the practised woods 
 man ; Arthur Eveleigh following promptly in his track, and 
 
 4 
 
/4 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 emulating his circumspection. They wound their way under 
 cover to the horses, and found them without any guar.l the 
 bandit needed all their forces for the pursuit of the negroes. In 
 silence, oid with great deliberation, Fordham proceeded to strip 
 the horses of their saddles, which he concealed in the thicket. 
 To remove the bridles was the next operation. 
 
 " What s the use of this, Fordham ?" was the whispered query 
 of his young companion. 
 
 "To gain time to make the horses as useless to the inirny 
 as possible. But we will leave two of the nags saddled, and if 
 you will lead these quietly, through the wood ahead, and get 
 them across the creek, where we can find them at a moment, 
 they will help you and your mother to git on. These rogues 
 are all below us, I reckon, and looking out for the wagon. It s 
 cl ar they re aiming at a great plunder. They ll gut the wagon 
 if we let em." 
 
 " But, couldn t we mount, and ride the rascals down ?" demand 
 ed the youth. 
 
 " And draw a rifle-shot from every bush as we pass ? No ! 
 no ! Mr. Arthur, that Avould be to spile the whole business. 
 We ve got a Icetlc the advantage now, and I m for keeping 
 it. I d much irther cut the throats of all the horses than mount 
 them, now, when these scamps are scattered through the wood. 
 But let us stir ourselves. Will you take the two horses down to 
 the creek, while I keep watch ?" 
 
 " Yes ; but what will you do with the rest ?" 
 
 " Turn em loose, and let em pick about the woods. They ll 
 be so much harder to be caught." 
 
 " But why not take them all over the creek ?" 
 
 " I m afraid ; lest we should be caught, and be attacket onu- 
 wares. It s better so, as I tell you. Ef you don t like the job, 
 Mr. Arthur, say so, and I ll do it while you keep watch here .; 
 though I m rather the better band, I m a-thinking, to do the 
 watching part of the business." 
 
 " No, Fordham ; I ll do it." 
 
 " Hurry then, Master Arthur, and be back as soon as possible. 
 With our three rifles, we can make these rascals feel very sore 
 taking them cwexpectedly out of these bushes. 1 11 not tarn the 
 other horses loose till you git back." 
 
" TOO QUICK ON THIUGEIi." 75 
 
 The youth had but three hundred yards or so to go, and he 
 executed his duty with sufficient celerity, and with success. He 
 crept back, and into cover, alongside of Fordham, with all the 
 stealth of an experienced woodman. He was on his best per 
 formance, and taking his first lesson in war ; and proud and soli 
 citous accordingly. 
 
 " And now that we are ready for the rascals, I ll jest slip the 
 bridles and let the horses free Do you lie close, keep behind 
 that log, and see that you liavn t spilt your priming." 
 
 A few moments sufficed to let the horses loose, and then 
 Fordham crept to a thick clump of bushes, some ten yards from 
 the spot occupied by Arthur, and laid himself at length behind 
 it. The horses, for a while, as if unconscious of their enlarge 
 ment, stood with heads down in tlie same place. Soon, however, 
 they began to turn, now to one side and now to the other; 
 anon they thrust their noses to the earth, and nibbled at the 
 meagre grasses ; gradually, they began to wander, and, after a 
 short interval, to scatter themselves about the wood. Mean 
 while, the wagon appeared in sight, and our party, lying perdu, 
 beheld the rush upon it from the Avood, and saw the result, as 
 we have thus far described it. 
 
 Their turn was about to come. 
 
 I count the whole five, Mr. Fordham," murmured Arthur 
 crawling nigh to his companion. 
 
 " Yes ; and they ve work to do before they catch Jack Sylves 
 ter. He s off. It s him, I know, that walked this side of the 
 wagon ; and Captain Porgy s Pomp was jest behind him with 
 his fiddle. "With two horses only, the rascals will never catch 
 them all in this world." 
 
 " They ve gone after them." 
 
 " Three of them, I think. No ; only the two mounted men. 
 I still see three, near the niggers they ve caught. They re ty 
 ing them. Well that s strange! I wonder what they can 
 mean ? They surely don t intend to steal erii ag in, now the 
 British have gone." 
 
 And Fordham raised himself uneasily, as if disposed to take 
 th- field. 
 
 " Lie close, Mr. Fordham they re coming this way. 
 
 " Sure enough : two of them ! They re coming after the 
 
76 WOODCRAFT, 
 
 horses, 1 reckon. Well, with two off, in cliase of the runaways, 
 one minding the wagon, and only two to manage at a time, I 
 think, Mr. Arthur, we ought to manage em. If we can pick 
 off these two skunks, it 11 take more courage than I give the 
 other chaps credit for, to bring em down to attack us in our am 
 bush. Now, don t be too eager, Mr. Arthur keep down your 
 heart. Shot your lips close, and spread out quiet on your left 
 side. Don t you cock your we pon till you re ready to let drive. 
 There s always time enough for that. Perhaps you d better wait 
 till I give tongue with my rifle, and then yours can follow at 
 the chap that you see still standing." 
 
 " Let me shoot first, Mr. Fordham, if you please ?" murmured 
 the youth eagerly. 
 
 "Well! But I m afraid you ll be too wzsteady ; you talk 
 like it," 
 
 "No ! no !" answered the other, "you ll see." 
 
 " Well ! well !" replied the overseer, good naturedly "young 
 fellows must begin sometime or other ! Only, Mr. Arthur, don t 
 waste the bullet when you show where you take your rest. 
 Don t let your heart thump so as to knock your eye out of the 
 range. See to that," 
 
 " I will !" in a subdued, yet agitated voice. 
 
 No more Avas said between the parties ; the approach of <~he 
 two brigands requiring their utmost silence and attention. On a 
 sudden they were seen to halt. They had discovered that the 
 horses had escaped from their place of fastening. One of them 
 pointed to a couple of the animals which had wandered some fifty 
 yards from the cover, and were now feeding up through an open 
 pine ridge. They both turned aside in this direction. At this 
 moment they were within long rifle range of the ambush. The 
 course they now pursued was calculated to take them entirely 
 beyond it. Arthur Eveleigh saw this, and, in his eagerness, his 
 unwillingness that they should escape him, and perhaps from a 
 miscalculation of the distance, he pulled trigger upon them. 
 
 "Too far--too far!" muttered Fordham "I was afear i 
 he d be too quick on trigger." 
 
 " He s got it," cried the youth, almost too loudly for pruden *. 
 
 "Only a taste a flesh-wound, Mr. Arthur," said Fordham 
 who could better appreciate the effects produced by the shot 
 
LESSONS IN WOODCRAFT. 77 
 
 The man aimed at was certainly hit. He was seen to spin 
 round for a moment like a top, while his right hand caught con 
 vulsively the left arm just below the shoulders. 
 
 "A little more to the left, Mr. Arthur, and the bullet would 
 have bored him through the heart. Now it s only grazed the 
 arm. He s got a taste, however, that ll operate mightily like a 
 scare. They ll fight shy of us now, and we must watch that 
 they don t fetch a compass round us. Lie close and reload." 
 
 Meanwhile the companion of the wounded man hurried to his 
 assistance, and they both retired in the direction of the wagon. 
 Here they were seen to tear off the coat of the sufferer, to 
 examine and to bandage up the wound. The fellow laid him 
 self down, leaning with his head against a tree. The dressing 
 was soon performed, and Arthur Eveleigh was mortified im 
 mensely to discover, what was sufficiently apparent, that the 
 hurt, as Fordham had said, was to the flesh only. Not a bone 
 was broken and the blood was quickly stanched. The wounded 
 man was seen to lift his arm without assistance, and, after a few 
 moments of repose, he got up and joined his comrades who had 
 now retired to the woods, as if for consultation. 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 LESSONS IN WOODCRAFT 
 
 THE whole aspect of the affair had now undergone a serious 
 change in the eyes of the outlaws. We must enter into their 
 councils for a moment. Close by the side of the road, but con 
 cealed amid the shrubbery which skirted it, three of the party 
 had assembled, including the person who had been left in charge 
 of the captured negroes. These, as they had all by this time 
 been well secured with ropes, and were now grouped together 
 at the side of the wagon, needed perhaps no close furveifiance. 
 Still, the party at the roadside, but a few paces distant, were 
 ready, should there be any movement among the slaves. But 
 they lay quiet, crouching close to the earth, and entirely sub- 
 
78 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 dueol by their terrors. The two absent outlaws were still in 
 pyrsuit of the fugitive negroes in the woods opposite. The 
 three whom we now find in council consisted of Bostwick, the 
 squatter, Ralph Burke, and Dick Norris distinct persons all, 
 certainly, but with such a family likeness among them, the 
 result of great beards, mammoth wigs and whiskers, all of 
 glossy black, and similar habits, that they could really only dis 
 tinguish each other by their voices. Bostwick, as was proper, 
 was the person to open the conference upon the state of their 
 affairs. 
 
 "Well, boys, here s a trouble. These chaps have got loose, 
 and how, is the puzzle." 
 
 " No puzzle, I reckon," answered Burke. " They ve been 
 ontied by that wench that you let slip out of the carriage 
 That s the how." 
 
 " I reckon it must be so," answered Bostwick. 
 
 " And how you come to let her slip, is a matter 1 can t see 
 You would take the carriage to yourself, and shat your eyes to 
 hafe [half] the business." 
 
 " Yes ; whar was your eyes, Bostwick ?" quoth Norris. 
 
 " In the widow s pockets, I reckon," muttered Burke, with a 
 shrewd approach to the truth. 
 
 " I miss d it sartain, somehow," replied Bostwick, composedly; 
 " but that s not the matter now. It s now to see how we liev to 
 mend the slip. It s sartin sure that Fordham and the young 
 man are loose, and it don t matter by whose hands. I suppose 
 the widow s loose too ?" 
 
 " There was only one shot, Bostwick," quoth Norris. 
 
 " Well, what of that ?" 
 
 " Well, that would show there was only one man. Now, it s 
 not so cl ar to me that Fordham s loose. He had quite too Lard 
 a hit o the head to git the use of his eyes and fingers^so mighty 
 quick, ay, or his senses either. Now, if it should be only the 
 young un." 
 
 "Hardly. He s not got the sense for it yet, though he s 
 spunky, I know I know him of old. I ve seen and talked 
 with him years ago, when he wasn t knee-high. Ef twas only 
 him, we could soon sarcumvent him. But it s not so easy work 
 with Fordham, who is a sort <jf man-fox, I toll you ; as can- 
 
LESSONS IN WOODCRAFT. 79 
 
 ning as a sarpent, and with a mighty hard head and fist in a 
 fight." 
 
 "There was hut one shot !" quoth Norris, pertinaciously. 
 
 " Yes, and Fordham wasn t the man to shoot that, I m think 
 ing," said Burke. Ef he s the man you say, he d ha held back, 
 ontil he could ha made a better mark with the bullet. It s the 
 boy, I tell you." 
 
 " But suppose the man s along with him V 1 
 
 " Would Fordham ha let the chap shoot a minnit before the 
 time?" 
 
 " I reckon he couldn t help it. The boy was always mighty 
 hard-headed. But whether there s one or two, boys, there s only 
 one way before us, and that s to find out, and take the back 
 track upon em. So, up with you, Rafe Burke ; we re the men 
 for tliis business ! We ll leave you, Norris, to keep an eye on 
 the road and the negroes seeing as how you re a Avounded 
 man ; you re an tmcombatant, as they say, and kin only do hos 
 pital sarvice." 
 
 " Psho ! I kin do as much as ever. This here is only a 
 scratch, and a mighty lectle one at that." 
 
 " It come mighty nigh to making your cross, old fellow. Tlio 
 same bullet, only a lectle to the left, would have worked out a 
 buttonhole in your ribs that no plaster could have shet up 
 again. But, whether you kin do much or leetle, aint a mat 
 ter now. You kin use your rifle at a push, and that s enough. 
 Keep your eye on the niggers, and if Jeff Brydges and Tony 
 Ilincs come in afore we git back, keep em in till you hear the 
 whistle three times three short whistles and a long one. You 
 know what that means ? Then bring all hands to bear. We ll 
 want you." 
 
 " What s your first aim now, Bostwick ?" 
 
 " To git on the back of these fellows, and see after the widow. 
 Ef we kin git hold of licr agin, supposing they ve cut her loose 
 and hid her, we. sh ll be mighty nigh to making what tarms we 
 please with her son and Fordham." 
 
 Such was the ruffianly policy of the parties. Bostwick and 
 Ralph Burke now disappeared, pushing deeply into the woods, 
 and carefully giving a wide berth to the precinct still occupied 
 by the carriage, where they now knew the two honest men to 
 
80 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 be in ambush. Meanwhile, what of these companions, the 
 scer and young Arthur ? 
 
 We must not suppose that Forclham was so inexperienced a 
 woodmar* as to continue in occupation of the spot which they 
 had distinguished by the discharge of firearms. lie knew bet 
 ter the necessity, so admirably practised among all the partisans 
 of this region, of changing the ground the moment they had 
 struck a blow, or in any way given reason to an enemy to think 
 that they occupied it. Scarcely had Norris and Bostwick re 
 treated from before young Arthur s fire, than the overseer said 
 to his inexperienced companion 
 
 " Now, Mister Arthur, this is jest no place for us ! We must 
 creep out and off, and shift quarters. Don t you rise, for you 
 don t know what spies may be looking out in this direction now. 
 Take your rifle in your right hand, and crawl, as well as you 
 kin, sideways, tell you git to the end of that log, then twist 
 round, and crawl fora d, in a straight track for the crossing at 
 the creek." 
 
 " What s to be done now, Mr. Fordham ? 
 
 " Jest now, nothing, but what I tell you ! To creep out of 
 quarters in front of which you ve cried aloud from the mouth of 
 a rifle, here your inimies camp/ You ain t to think that five 
 rapscallions like these, aiming at plunder, will give up the s arch 
 when they know there s only two ag inst em. They ll be upon 
 us ag in, and it s my notion now to take up a position jest where 
 they mightn t look to find us." 
 
 " Shall we not push down to the swamp where mother s 
 gone ?" 
 
 "No, no, Mr. Arthur! there s some birds about your own 
 fields that could teach you better than that. They takes care, 
 when you re birding, to fly jest the farthest from where they 
 hides their family ; and they take pretty good care, by crying, 
 and chirruping, and screaming, and dipping about all the time, 
 to make you believe jest the contrary. Leave your mother to 
 herself. I reckon they ll never do her any mischief, more than 
 robbing her of all she has about her. But we hain t got the 
 protection of a petticoat, and we mustn t risk anything by hav 
 ing a petticoat in our way. Do you jest follow now, as I show 
 vou, never rising up once higher than you do now, tell I givo 
 
LESSONS N WOODCRAFT. 81 
 
 the word. One never knows when he s quite safe in sich an 
 expedition as this ; and the only chance is in jest playing the 
 jcout, as ef you had a wolf on one quarter, and a yellow painter 
 panther] on t other. Pull up now it s slow and tiresome 
 walking, this, on all fours, or belly to the ground like a snake ; 
 but it s more sure than any other, and won t last very long." 
 
 Fordham led the way with a will, crawling forward with a 
 degree of ease and rapidity which was quite surprising to young 
 Arthur, whose practice had never been in this sort of woodcraft 
 Ho was for ever anested by boughs of. trees, fragments of the 
 storm ; by holes and hillocks ; by vines and roots, that, bulging 
 out upon the surface, and concealed by dried leaves, caught foot 
 or hand, or rifle, alternately, and to his perpetual annoyance. 
 He was, a dozen times, on the point of springing to his feet, and 
 braving every danger, but that he was partly subdued by the 
 reflection that his recent precipitation had already brought 
 about mischievous results. Besides, he was watched by Ford- 
 ham, who ever and anon put in his exhortation judiciously, to 
 " take it coolly," " don t be in a hurry, Master Arthur," " only 
 a leetle bit longer," and " it will soon be over." When the pa 
 tience of the youth was almost exhausted, Fordham uttered the 
 grateful words of relief. 
 
 "Now, Master Arthur, we can lift ourselves. We re in a 
 pretty close thick, you see of gall and * hurrah-bushes, where it 
 would puzzle the prophet Daniel to look us out. Here, do you 
 lie quiet for a bit, tell I take a view of the field of battle. I ll 
 not be long ; and you shall hear me hoot, like an owl, when I m 
 coming back." 
 
 He disappeared almost with the words, affording young Ar 
 thur, who was buried on every side in the thicket, no oppor 
 tunity for a single word. The place in which the latter found 
 himself was a sort of wolf-castle, as, in the southern country, 
 such places arc apt to be called. The wild, matted, tangled, 
 tough, and altogether indescribable shrub, which the woodman 
 described as the " hurrah -bush," and for which we have no bet 
 ter name, constitutes, in poor soil, and on the edges of swamps 
 and drowned lands, one of the most formidable and impenetrable 
 of forest-walls ; while the gall-bushes, which are apt to associate 
 with it, mass themselves together with a luxuriance of top which 
 
82 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 effectually closes every aperture of sight. Beneath them the 
 hear and wolf, of the wilder regions, or the hog and wild-cat in 
 the more civilized, find their way, making the only avenues of 
 egress and entrance ; and these of a sort to require the hunter 
 of them to crouch almost to their four-footed levels, with his feet 
 half the time buried from sight in mud-puddles, while his hands 
 labor incessantly in pushing the thick masses of shrubbery from 
 his eyes. 
 
 Poor Arthur grew monstrous impatient in this gloomy abode. 
 Fortunately, the season had been dry, and he had no inconveni 
 ences to endure beyond those of restraint. But, to a youth of 
 his eager and restless temperament, this restraint was the worst 
 of evils. His horizon was within reach of his grasp. The great 
 trees above shut out the heavens. The wall of shrubbery about 
 him left him no other objects of survey but the one monotonous 
 wilderness of dull, green waste ; and it was only by squatting and 
 crouching almost to the earth, that he could pierce to the dis 
 tance of a few yards along the dark and sinuous beast-paths that 
 ran below the highways of deer, and bear, of fox, and coon, 
 and possum. 
 
 But Fordham was not long absent. Soon the faint hooting 
 of the owl was heard, and suddenly the youth discovered the 
 overseer within a few paces of him, winding along beneath the 
 bushes like a black snake, seemingly without motion, and cer 
 tainly without noise. The stealthiness of his approach caused 
 the young man to start. His enemies, approaching with such 
 facility, would have fatally surprised him. He learned a new 
 lesson of woodcraft, and his humility increased with his caution, 
 in the growing conviction that he had a great deal yet to learn 
 a fact which fast young persons are very unwilling to believe, 
 and rarely discover for themselves, unless with the, penalty of 
 frequent bruises. 
 
 " They re travelling, I m sure," quoth Fordham, with evident 
 anxiety. " They re not idle, I could take my Bible oath ; but 
 \vhar ? That s the question ! They make no signs. They re, 
 fox-bred, all of them, and are now winding about in the woods, 
 without turning up a leaf. We shall have to git closer into the 
 swamp, Master Arthur, and put some good-sized pond on the 
 back of us, so that, if they find us, they ll have to take us in 
 
LESSONS IN" WOODCRAFT. 88 
 
 front. Then we kin manage ; only, yon must let me tell yon 
 when to shoot. Ef we throw away another shot, it s next to 
 throwing a scalp along with it, and I d rather not part with 
 mine; and I ll die hard, Arthur, before I see them finger 
 your n." 
 
 The youth caught the hand of the overseer, and pressed it 
 warmly, but without speaking. 
 
 " We must back out of these hurrah-bushes, and git upon 
 the tnssocky places, among the pines. Jest now, do you follow 
 me close ; I reckon we kin go ahead boldly in this quarter, 
 sence it s ^possible that these rascallions kin have got quite to 
 these parts. Here, away, and don t be o^easy." 
 
 " But my mother, Fordham !" 
 
 "Well, we shall push for one side of the same swamp that 
 you told her to make for. As I told you, I d a most rether that 
 she shouldn t be with us ; for, though she s a mighty strong- 
 hearted lady, your mother, yet there is no answering for any 
 woman in a sudden bloody skrimmage, with, maybe, sharp 
 shooting, and a wild Ingin-shouting at the same time going on. 
 There s no telling what sort of supper these fellows mean to get 
 ready for us. Stoop a bit, now, Mister Arthur, and keep close 
 to the bushes ; we ve got to cross a leetle rising ground jest 
 here, before we reach the swamp." 
 
 They were moving pretty quickly over this track, when, see 
 ing Arthur a little too erect, the woodman caught his wrist and 
 pulled him down. 
 
 "Squat close quite now es [as] you are!" said Ford- 
 ham, in a whisper. " Hist now, don t you hear 1 ?" 
 
 "Nothing! What is it?" 
 
 " There was a whistle, jest there to the right hist ! Again ! 
 Don t you hear it ?" 
 
 Arthur fancied he did hear something like a whistle, but 
 added 
 
 "It s a bird s, Foidham." 
 
 " Ay but a sort of bird that s born without feathers, Arthur ! 
 Creep, now hands and knees and take care not to jostle a 
 bush a leetle more this way. We must make for them cy 
 presses, jest ahead ; there is, likely, a pond behind them, and 
 we ll put it to the back of us." 
 
84 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 All this was said in a whisper. The, two moved forward , 
 Arthur exerting all his will in subduing the eager anxieties that 
 diffused a feverish glow over his whole system. He was almost 
 breathless when Fordham paused, on the edge of a small twict 
 of soft ooze, which indicated the tea-minus of the little rising 
 ground over which they had been crossing. 
 
 " Now," said the latter, still in a whisper, " we ll work round 
 this little ooze, and git upon the tussock among them big cy 
 presses. There are, you see, some bay bushes jest in front of 
 them, which will do to cover us. We must still crawl, for that 
 whistle is a little nigher than you reckon, and we must use all 
 our caution." 
 
 He led the way in the manner he described. Never did fel 
 low, carrying two rifles, exhibit such agility. Arthur could 
 scarce conceive, though he beheld it, how the thing was done. 
 He foundjiis one rifle, though a short one, and his pistols, a suf 
 ficient burden, pursuing such a progress, and, half the time, in a 
 crouching, or crawling attitude. But one of the rifles carried by 
 Fordham, was the German yager, short, and with a strap at 
 tached, which the overseer contrived to bind pretty close to his 
 body, and beneath it, when he crawled ; the stock being just 
 under his left shoulder. His right hand grasped the long rifle, 
 which he held above the ground. The two soon reached the 
 designated tussock, and crouched quietly behind the bay or 
 laurel bushes. 
 
 " Now," said Fordham, " let us reprime. I reckon we ve spilt 
 the powder from our pans." 
 
 He himself lifted the cover of his rifle pan with great delibe 
 ration ; But the incautious Arthur threw his open without heed, 
 suffering the click to be sufficiently heard. 
 
 "Ah! Mister Arthur," whispered the woodman, reproach fully, 
 " that will never do. You ve got a mighty deal to 1 arn. That 
 click kin be heard jest as far as the whistle of that ere bird. 
 One talks to the other so as he kin owderstand. In these 
 swamp woods, so still as they are now, I kin hear the click of a 
 rifle fifty yards, and ef I m not mightily mistaken, these scamps 
 can hear it too. We ll try em ! Now are you primed ?" 
 
 " I am." 
 
 " Jest then give me your cap. Lie close now, and keep ready 
 
THE FAT TURKEY WALKS INTO ^HE TRAP. 85 
 
 We ll just draw their shot, ef so be they re in rifle distance. 
 You ll see what eyes these fellows have for an inimy. ef so be 
 they ve got round, as I m thinking they hev , to the edges of the 
 swamp." 
 
 He elevated the cap upon the rod of his gun, just beside one 
 of the cypresses, showing the cap only, above a bunch of laurel. 
 Scarcely had he done so, when the report of a rifle was heard. 
 The rod was lowered instantly; the cap was untouched tho 
 aim had been six inches below it and the ripping of the bul 
 let through the bark of the cypress, showed how narrow would 
 have been the escape of a man occupying the same position. 
 
 " You see ! The cussed sknnks !" 
 
 " Can t we get a crack at them, Fordham ?" 
 
 " Ef we could, I d say take it ; but lie close, and keep your 
 fire. I ll r/conn itre." 
 
 And the shrewd woodman crept away down the bank-side 
 and disappeared. Arthur soon lost sight of his person among 
 the bushes on the right, and everything remained as still as if 
 the region had never been inhabited. 
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 THE FAT TURKEY WALKS INTO THE TRAP. 
 
 WHILE the youth remained, thus, perdue, confused and impa 
 tient, but, by this time, fully tutored in the necessity of keeping 
 quiet and watchful where he had been placed, ten minutes might 
 have passed ; to him seemingly a good half hour. He was sud 
 denly awakened to increased agitation and anxiety, by hearing 
 a second rifle-shot about twenty paces on his right. He con 
 ceived, rightly, that this shot was from the overseer, and eagerly 
 began to anticipate the necessity, himself, of taking part of the 
 action. But a deep silence again followed, and ten minutes 
 more may have elapsed, when he was suddenly conscious of a 
 sound among the bushes as of a stick broken. He turned his 
 eyes in this quarter, gauged it with his rifle, and, though ex- 
 
86 AOODCRAFT. 
 
 pecting Fordham, stood prepared to meet an enemy. He was 
 reassured by a chirp, not louder than that of the cricket from a 
 split-log, and the next moment the overseer glided up the bank. 
 
 " You shot ! What have you done ?" 
 
 " Nothing much, I reckon ! I didn t expect to do much, but 
 mostly to give the skunks an idee that we were in different 
 camps, and that they couldn t git at one fairly, without putting 
 themselves in the way of eating the bullets of the other. I was 
 tempted, as I seed a little motion in a heap of tallow-bushes ; 
 and, as I reckoned that was pretty much about the spot where 
 their shot come from, I kept my eye upon it, and when I saw 
 the top of the bush move again, I aimed pretty low down and 
 blazed a way. 
 
 " Well ?" 
 
 " Nothing come of it, so far as I seed ! I reckon I was a 
 Icetlc too quick on the trigger, jest like a younger person, Ar 
 thur. But let us slip down this bank, and get farther along up 
 the swamp." 
 
 " But when you drew their fire, by the cap, Fordham, why 
 didn t you offer for a rush at them ?" 
 
 " How was I to know how many -rifles they had, with mouths 
 full of bullets still 1 No ! no ! Master Arthur ; we are but two, 
 and they are five, may be certainly four and ef thar s to be 
 a rush made, why they are the proper persons to take the rcsk. 
 We must resk nothing. We re on the defensive, all the time. 
 What we must aim at is to sarcumvent them. We must fetch 
 another compass, and change ground constantly." 
 
 Having, by this time, reloaded his discharged rifle, Fordham 
 led the way for his young companion. Creeping along the 
 hedge of laurel, but not so near it as to disturb a sprig, the two 
 glided down the tussock, and soon made their way into the 
 deeper shelter of the swamp. They now moved steadily up 
 ward, aiming, though by a circuitous progress, in the direction 
 of the creek where Fordham was surprised in the opening of 
 the affair. While thus moving, let us look into the camp of the 
 enemy, and pierce their policy, if possible. 
 
 We need not detail the several fetches by which the two ban 
 dits, Bostwick and Ralph Burke, approached the point where we 
 find them. Their route, like that of the party we have hitherto 
 
THE FAT TURKEY WALKS INTO THE TRAP. 87 
 
 iccompanied, 1ms been a circuitous one in recognition of the 
 /ital necessity, which existed, that they should not unadvisedly 
 happen upon their foes. A proper knowledge of woodcraft, led 
 Bostwick and Burke readily to conjecture what would be the 
 game practised by Fordham. They aimed, accordingly, to ac 
 complish a circuit so sufficiently wide, as to bring them, finally, 
 in the rear of the overseer, no matter how much the compass 
 he, too, might have allowed himself in the desire to attain a sim 
 ilar object. In this progress, they measurably accomplished 
 their aims; and, but for the retreat to the "Hurrah" and "gall 
 berry bushes," and the short pause of the overseer and Arthur 
 in that place of refuge, they would, probably, have arrived at 
 better opportunies than those which they enjoyed. 
 
 It was while fully conscious, from certain discoveries which 
 they had made, that the fugitives were nearly within striking 
 distance, that the two outlaws hid themselves for awhile ; keep 
 ing a sharp watch, rifle in hand, within twenty paces of each 
 other. Their instincts led them to divine that Fordham would 
 seek the cover of the swamp ; and, upon this region they kept 
 their eyes, from the centre of that elevated ground over which 
 the overseer had so cautiously crept, leading his inexperienced 
 associate. While lurking and watching thus, the eyes of Burke 
 were the first to catch a glimpse of the youth s cap elevated 
 above a clump of laurel. The bait took and he fired ; to the 
 great annoyace of Bostwick, Avho had seen it also, and had sus 
 pected the ruse. The parties rejoined, a moment after this shot, 
 and, with a brief wrangle in respect to it, separated as before, 
 and once more shrouded themselves among the myrtle and tal 
 low bushes. It was, while recovering this position, that Bost- 
 \vick drew the fire of Fordham ; suffering a narrow escape, 
 the bullet actually cutting the cape of his coat, and razing the 
 skin of his shoulder as if a cowhide had been laid on with a will. 
 The fellow writhed under the smart, but made no other move 
 ment, and, after a brief pause of watch, in the hope that the secret 
 enemy, whose bullet he had escaped, presuming on a more fatal 
 result, would show himself, he readily conjectured, from his 
 forbearance to do so, that he had changed his ground. But he 
 waited still awhile longer; then, as all continued silent, he 
 whistled to Burke, who answered him from his place of shelter 
 
88 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 aiid both drew backward, crawling away in snake-fashion, and 
 scarcely stirring the foliage which had given them shelter. 
 
 " We can t play these cards too nicely," said Bostwick to 
 Burke, as they went some yards in the rear of their late position, 
 and with the "hurrah-bushes" effectually concealing them from 
 sight. " This chap, Fordham, is a whole team of foxes, and no 
 mistake ! We must git across the road, and push down quick 
 for the swamp on that side cross the creek and road at the 
 same time, and come in on em from that quarter." 
 
 The plan was agreed on, and at once put in execution. Once 
 in the forest, on the opposite side of the road, the two bandits 
 made rapid progress upward ; reaching the margin of the swamp 
 in which, as we have seen, the widow Eveleigh had previously 
 taken shelter, very nearly as soon as Fordham and young Arthur. 
 But a considerable space now lay between the latter and their 
 hunters, destined, however, to be rapidly overcome, as the over 
 seer and his companion were also bending their steps toward the 
 same creek which the bandits are now crossing. Once on the 
 opposite side, the two latter struck into the swamp, proposing 
 to pursue the course of the creek which wound through it, and 
 place themselves in ambush among the willows and laurels by 
 which it was skirted. But they had not gone far, preserving 
 the caution which had hitherto marked their movements, when 
 they discovered such proof of the near neighborhood of other 
 parties, as made them momently forgetful of Fordham. The 
 anxieties of the widow Eveleigh, in respect to her son, had made 
 her unwilling to leave him, while there was any prospect of his 
 suffering from an encounter with his foes. Though she had 
 crossed the creek, and had consented to go forward on her route 
 keeping still the cover of the wood, under the guidance of 
 Jenny, the servant-maid yet with a fearful fascination, which 
 she could not withstand, did she again return upon her own 
 ^ootsteps. Her track, going, had been detected in the soft ooze 
 along the margin of the creek. It was followed instantly by 
 the outlaws. 
 
 " Let us but git our hand on her ag in," quoth Bostwick, " and 
 we ll git a purchase on her son and Fordham." 
 
 Such was the cold-blooded calculation. 
 
THE FAT TUItKKY WALKS INTO THE TRAP. 89 
 
 "Right!" responded Burke. "Son or mother, the one kin 
 
 always be made to sell out for the other." 
 
 " That s jest as they have vartue and nateral affection. These 
 will do it but, let me tell you, tain t the case with many 
 hundred others. Gad ! there s some people that d rether sell 
 mother and grandmother, and son and grandson, then give up 
 the hair of a nigger, or the shine of a dollar. I ve known many 
 of that sort but it s no use to talk. There s man-beasts, 
 Burke wolf and tiger, fox and skunk, coon and possum, 
 snake and spider who don t know no law but jest to strike 
 and swallow and makes snares and steal, when they can t 
 strike ; and run, rether than fight, for their thievings ! I don t 
 know, old fellow, but we b longs to some one of these breeds, 
 ourselves ; and we d be bad enough, ef we wa n t willing to 
 resk our lives as well as our honesty. There s one I know, 
 but 
 
 who r 
 
 Never mind he s one who would cut his inimy s throat 
 with your knife or mine, and take his neighbor s money with 
 our hands; he s but no matter. Now, this widow and her 
 son are of the true grit people of ral blood ; and raal Mood, 
 Burke, is a vartue by itself, and by natur . They d die for one 
 another !" 
 
 " We won t hurt em, Bostwick ?" 
 
 " That s as it happens. We don t know what we may hev 
 t.) do. One must help himself, no matters who he hurts ! We 
 must use one of em to bring the other to reason. So stop! 
 hist!" 
 
 The two crouched instinctively into cover. 
 
 " The turkey s walking straight into trap !" quoth Bostwick. 
 
 A whisper between the parties, and they stole off, still under 
 cover, in different directions. A few moments only had elapsed, 
 when Bostwick laid his hand on the unconscious shoulder of the 
 widow Eveleigh, taking her by surprise, while the fingers of 
 Burke griped Jenny, the servant-maid, rathe*- tenderly than 
 otherwise, about the nape on her neck. 
 
 " Jest taking a leetle liberty, my lady," said Bostwick, hi a 
 gruff and disguised voice. 
 
 She-started and shuddered, but submitted with dignity ; vexed 
 
90 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 to the soul, and humbled, that, once free from his clutches, she 
 had not followed the instructions of her son and the overseer, 
 and pushed rapidly from the scene of danger. She felt, in an 
 instant, all the advantage that her second captivity would 
 afford to the enemy. Jenny, the servant-maid, was overwhelmed 
 with her terrors, and screamed, and continued to scream, until 
 the enraged Burke, throwing her to the ground, crammed her 
 distended jaws with moss enough to make an infant s mattress. 
 
 " I must take the liberty, ma am, of giving your arms a hitch 
 as I did before, but, this time, you must walk with me. I sha n t 
 leave you a second time out of sight." 
 
 " What is your design upon me, sir ? Speak out ! If it is 
 money you are already in possession of all I have about me. 
 If you require more for my ransom, and that of my friend, 
 say so, and if it can be procured, I will consent to any sum, 
 sooner than submit to this treatment!" 
 
 " Directly, ma am ; that s for afterward. But, jest now, you 
 must foot it along with me. Quick, ma am, I ve got no time to 
 waste." 
 
 " But whither must we go ?" 
 
 " Back to your carnage ! I reckon we ll put you in it, right 
 away, and send you home safe enough, after a leetle while. 
 That s ef you ain t obstropolus." 
 
 " Who are you ?" 
 
 " A wolf, ma am, or a tiger, ef you axes after my family and 
 
 name. Come, ma am, walk, or by I ll lace you with a 
 
 hickory. I will, by thunder!" 
 
 This was plain language enough. The widow bestowed but 
 a single glance of her large blue eye upon the ruffian, calm and 
 strong, under the threat and indignity ; then quietly moved for 
 ward in the direction which she was bidden to take. What was 
 only a threat in the case of the widow, became an experience in 
 that of the servant-maid. Gagged and on the ground, she reso 
 lutely refused to rise, till the enraged Burke, cutting a rod from 
 a neighboring bush, laid it thrice over her shoulders. The argu 
 ment proved sufficient, and she set forward with a speed that 
 was studiously calculated to leave a space of five feet or more 
 between herself and assailant ; who still continued to threaten 
 with the rod which he found no longer necessary to use^in any 
 
SKIRMISHING. 91 
 
 other way. Again the party sped across the creek, and into the 
 opposite forest, making rapid progress, and keeping vigilant eye 
 upon the road which separated them from those woods, in the 
 unknown retreats of which Fordham and young Arthur con 
 tinued to find shelter, and where it was very well known they 
 lurked and watched. Let us now return to them. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 SKIRMISHING. 
 
 THE overseer and his young companion, having struck some 
 what deeper into the swamp, were necessarily compelled to 
 make a considerable circuit in approaching the point where 
 the outlaws had succeeded in recapturing Mrs. Eveleigh. The 
 swamp, of irregular figure, thrust out a huge horn between the 
 parties," the extent of which Fordham had not calculated. This 
 was always pretty full of water, and not passable, except with 
 great difficulty and inconvenience. The two were on one side of 
 this horn, or arm of the swamp, itself a lake while the outlaws 
 skirted the other the creek being between the parties also 
 when the screams of the servant-maid of the widow smote 
 sharply on the ears of our .wanderers. The first instincts of 
 Arthur led him naturally to suppose that the cries were from his 
 mother. 
 
 "My poor mother!" he exclaimed, passionately. "They 
 have found her, Fordham. Hear ! It is she ! These are her 
 screams. They are ill-treating her." 
 
 "I don t think!" returned the other, with interest, but still 
 calmly. " Don t be scared, Arthur. I reckon they ve found 
 your mother, and have made her a prisoner agin, though she 
 ought, by this time, to have been a mile farther on the road. 
 But tain t Jier that you hear a-screaming. It s Jenny, the gal ; 
 I reckon. Mrs. Eveleigh ain t the lady to scream, I m thinking. 
 It ain t like her." 
 
 "But are -\ve to stand here, Fordham, when there s no know 
 ing what those villains are after /" 
 
92 WOODCUAFT. 
 
 " That we must try and see, Arthur. We must push on, 
 that s sartain ; but we mus n t push on any faster than we ve 
 been doing. The only way to .save her, and to save ourselves, 
 is jest to play scout tell we kin git some advantage. Jest you 
 leave the thing to me, and ef so be we re to work out of this 
 trouble with whole bones, it s only by showing not a white of 
 the eye to these skunks, until we kin speak to em safely by 
 the mouth of the rifle. Let :, push on, along the edge of this 
 lagoon, as we re a-doing. It ll bring us out upon the road after 
 awhile, and we ll see. Now that these rascals have got your 
 mother, as I reckon, they ll not be able to work their way 
 through the woods so easy as afore." 
 
 The youth felt that everything must be left to Fordham, in 
 whose ingenuity and courage, as well as fidelity, he had full 
 confidence, and the two pushed forward, still with great, caution, 
 worming their way along the edge of the -swamp, Fordham 
 taking the lead with equal energy and circumspection. They 
 reached, in this way, the road, just where the creek crossed it, 
 and there Fordham halted. 
 
 "Now," said he, "Arthur, do you keep close here in this covar 
 while I take an observation of the country. I ll be gone only a 
 leetle while." 
 
 lie was gone somewhat longer than he himself had antici 
 pated, and young Eveleigh was getting quite impatient, when 
 the overseer suddenly reappeared.. His countenance was grave 
 and anxious. 
 
 "Well, Mr. Fordham! my mother?" demanded Arthur. 
 
 " Them s mighty sharp rascals, Mister Arthur," replied the 
 overseen*- " They ve got back to the carriage, and they ve put 
 your mother and the gal into it. But there s no scaring the 
 scamps. They ve put your mother on the seat of the driver, 
 and they ve tied her to it, and the gal s tied inside. Besides, 
 they ve carried off the two horses." 
 
 The youth gnashed his teeth. 
 
 "You ve seen her then my mother?" 
 
 " Yes ! she s put so that we could see her, the d d var 
 mints ! By that I know d they re on the watch for us. They 
 think that when we ve seed her, and not them, we ll be such 
 
SKIRMISHING. 93 
 
 blind buzzards as to show ourselves. But I see the trap as well 
 as the cheese. We ll not take the bait, Arthur." 
 
 " How do you know she s tied V 
 
 " I reckon so from the way she sits, though I didn t go nigh 
 enough to see. I calculate that these scamps are lying on both 
 sides of the carriage, close in the bush, with their eyes running 
 close along their rifle-barrels. They know we re between them 
 and the creek. Now, as that s the case, our first business is 
 to work round on t other side. We must take another fetch 
 through the woods." 
 
 " Let s be moving, then," said the youth, impatiently. 
 
 And the overseer struck out at right angles, as if wholly leav 
 ing the road. He pursued this course for a while, with a com 
 paratively swift motion, and, after compassing a couple of hun 
 dred yards which brought them once more upon the swamp, he 
 turned suddenly to the left, and took a route parallel with the 
 road, which he followed witli little variation for about thrice the 
 distance. Then, making another turn to the left, he made his 
 way forward, seeking a point near the highway, but at some 
 distance in the rear of the carriage. When he caught sight of 
 these objects, which taught him to believe he had gone suffi 
 ciently far, he restrained his youthful companion. They both 
 crouched, and went forward, steadily keeping under cover of the 
 shrubs, bushes, and long grass which covered this region. After 
 a brief space consumed in this way, during which they had 
 drawn nigher to the carriage, Fordham paused and whispered 
 to Arthur. 
 
 " Now you lie down snug. Ef I calculate rightly, these skunks 
 are now within reach of a long-tongued rifle. I reckon that one 
 lies on t other side of the road among them oak-bushes, and in 
 that tall dry grass. The other is, I m thinking, on this side of 
 the road, somewhere among them water-myrtle and willow 
 bushes. Do you see your mother in the front seat of the 
 carriage ?" 
 "Yes!" 
 
 " Well, I reckon ef she could speak, she could tell us jest 
 where these critters harbor. They re on a sharp lookout for 
 us now from above. But we re licrv. Arthur, and its always 
 half the battle when your inirny don t know where to look for 
 
94 WOODCUAFl. 
 
 you, and when you can reasonably p int your finger and say, 
 Thar lie is! - Look back, Arthur, and see ef there s anybody 
 in the shape of a white man nigh the wagon." 
 
 " I see the negroes only, and only half of them, I reckon." 
 " Well, ef I could only tell how many of these chaps was 
 here in front of us ; but whether one or a dozen, there s no help 
 for it now but patience. Keep you quiet now, while I do a little 
 making" 
 
 And, so speaking, the \voodman ciept forward, close to the 
 ground, frequently pausing to listen, and sometimes raising him 
 self, whenever a sufficiently dense cover enabled him to do so 
 with safety. In this way he continued to advance, until a space 
 of thirty or forty yards alone remained between himself and the. 
 carriage. He was still pursuing this serpent-like progress, when 
 Arthur suddenly heard his mother s voice, the tones eager, and 
 full of anxiety and agitation. 
 
 " Beware Arthur beware Fordham ! You are seen ! Your 
 enemies watch you!" 
 
 Fordham was down in an instant, but Arthur, excited by his 
 mother s voice, on the same instant, raised himself to his knees, 
 rifle in hand, and eyes that seemed to have acquired all the im 
 penetrating and piercing power of the eagle. Almost in the 
 same instant a shot rang through the Avoods, which whistled 
 through the bush beneath which Fordham crouched, rending 
 the leaves and twigs immediately above his head. 
 
 " Blast you !" cried Ralph Burke, who had fired, addressing 
 himself, in the same moment, to the widow, " ef I hear another 
 word out of your head, I ll cut your tongue out !" 
 
 He had scarcely spoken from his bush for he also was buried 
 among the leaves when the bush was seen to be hurriedly 
 agitated, and the widow heard another shot, but from what 
 quarter she could not conjecture. It was her son that fired. 
 
 At her words, which had called him up from his crouching 
 attitude, he had caught a glimpse of the flash which had prece 
 ded the shot of Burke, and obeying his impulse, he had drawn 
 trigger at the same moment upon the spot from Avhence it issued. 
 Me knew not if any effect had ensued from his fire, for a deep 
 silence overspread the scene ; and he began bitterly to reproach 
 himself with the precipitance with which he had again emptied 
 
THE CONFEDERATES CHANGE Til Kill CAME. ,) 
 
 his rifle without first making sure of his object. But, had he 
 then known the truth, he might have congratulated himself in 
 the language of Hamlet "praised be rashness for it" that he 
 had obeyed his impulse without regard to the seeming impolicy 
 3f the proceeding. 
 
 Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well, 
 When our deep plots do pall ;" 
 
 and so it was in the present instance. The almost random bul 
 let of the youth had buried itself in the brain of the ruffian, and, 
 with a single fearful spasm, he lay dead beneath the cover which 
 had lately formed his ambush. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THK CONFEDERATES CHANGE THEIR GAME AND WOULD CLAW 
 
 OFF. 
 
 FROM the deep silence whicTi covered the region, one might 
 suppose that all the parties had suddenly disappeared. Mrs. 
 Eveleigh had been warned to silence by the brutal threat of the 
 ruffian, Burke ; and having, as she thought, sufficiently informed 
 her son and his companion of the proximity of enemies, she was 
 not unwilling to respect the warning. She knew not of the effect 
 produced by her son s shot. The fact that it was fatal, was un 
 known, indeed, to any of the parties. Fordham had been sud 
 denly made more than ever cautious by his narrow escape from 
 Burke s bullet, and lay in supreme quiet in the bushes which 
 sheltered him. Young Arthur had also sunk back into cover, 
 quite ashamed of his own (assumed) rashness and indiscretion, 
 and congratulating himself that he had not drawn the enemy s 
 fire also. 
 
 Bostwick, in the meanwhile, conscious of the fact which Ford- 
 ham had no reason to suspect, that the parties were now equally 
 matched, and that all his hope lay in the excellence of his own 
 stratagem, crouched more closely than ever in his place of am 
 buscade, with every sense quickened by the feeling that he had 
 
90 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 an enemy before him who, thus far, had shown himself a match 
 for him in Indian artifice. In the practice of woodcraft he was 
 no\\ r willing to acknowledge that Fordham was quite as good a 
 man as himself. Of that which had been exercised by the op 
 ponents respectively, we have been able to report but imper 
 ,- fectly. It would need more space than we can afford to 
 chronicle minutely those details, of which we have given an out 
 line, only. The fox-like doublings, the snake-like crawlings, 
 the subtlety, stealth, keen sight, and foresight, equally, which 
 had been shown by both sides, in their several approaches to 
 and recedings from each other, had been of the best school of 
 stratagem, as practised by the red-men of America. The little 
 practice of our (7 ram fi fix persona will, on a small scale, exhibit 
 the characteristic features of Indian warfare, which, first of all, 
 recognises the necessity of risking nothing, and of making a 
 clear gain, without equivalent loss of all its advantages. Where 
 the number is so small on both sides, the first necessity is tc 
 economize it. Art is to supersede brute valor. No perils are to 
 be incurred except in cases of extreme necessity, and when the 
 issue of main force is absolutely inevitable. 
 
 In the present instance, Bostwick and Fordham were equally 
 impressed with the necessity of avoiding loss. Neither dared 
 show himself, with the view to an assault, or any bold demon 
 stration, as long as an enemy lay concealed and on the watch, 
 with a rifle -barrel still unemptied. Thus, accordingly, after the 
 space of ten or fifteen minutes after the several shots of Burke 
 and Arthur had been delivered, neither of the parties had moved 
 or spoken. 
 
 The first sounds which struck the ears of Fordham and Ar 
 thur were the faint whistles of a partridge. The latter, in his 
 inexperience, really supposed them to proceed from the bird ; 
 but Fordham knew better. He now held his breath, if possible 
 to distinguish from what precise quarter the sound had issued. 
 He knew it to be a signal. It was repeated at slight intervals, 
 and he found that it came from the opposite woods the car 
 riage being, in fact, directly between himself and the sound. 
 He supposed it to be forty or fifty yards distant. Thrice did he 
 hear it, and always from the same precinct. He could perceive 
 no answer to it. Either, therefore, his late* assailant was nighei 
 
THE CONFEDERATES CHANGE THEIR GAME. 97 
 
 to him than lie had imagined, and therefore dared not answer, 
 or he had succeeded in drawing himself off from the scene of 
 action. He never once fancied anything so agreeable, but so 
 little probable, as that the hasty shot of Arthur had done his 
 lvasiness~. But the conjecture of Bostwick led him more nearly 
 to the truth. The failure of Burke to answer his signal for it 
 was his filled him with doubt and apprehensions. He repeated 
 it thrice, as had been agreed upon between them, and listened 
 vainly for the reply. He at once reviewed all his ground, and, 
 for the first time, began to lose his confidence in the enterprise. 
 
 " I m jubous," he muttered to himself, " that Burke has got 
 his fodder ! There s but one way for it, and that s to back out. 
 It s l#gh time. Better half a loaf than no bread. Six niggers 
 sure, is better than a dozen, with a ragged bullet to chaw into 
 the bargain. I must shift the ground git .back to the wagon, 
 bring the boys together, and take what we ve got." 
 
 These results were slowly arrived at. Once resolved upon, 
 the execution was immediate. Bostwick, with habitual cunning 
 and caution, withdrew from his place of hiding, drawing back 
 into the deeper woods, and without provoking any suspicion of 
 his movement, The widow, from her seat in the front of the 
 carriage, and who without actually seeing the squatter in his 
 place of ambush, was yet aware of the spot in which he harbored, 
 was totally ignorant of his departure. Once in the deep thicket 
 behind, Bostwick rose to his feet, and sped down the road with 
 all possible haste, in the direction of the wagon. There, nlso in 
 concealment, he found his colleague, Norris, who, having heard 
 the firing, had become exceedingly uneasy. 
 
 "Well how goes it, Bosf?" he inquired, as the other drew 
 to his side. " Where s Burke ?" 
 
 " Not in heaven, I reckon ! Maybe in a worse place, if the 
 preachers know anything about it." 
 
 " What 1 You don t mean?" 
 
 "I reckon he s chawed his bullet. He don t answer the call. 
 
 That (1 d eternal Ford ham ! They ve had a shot apiece, 
 
 and the widow cried out, and Burke, like a bloody fool, must git 
 out of the bush, and curse her, and shake his fist at her, and so 
 draw d the inimy s tire. Sence then, he s laid quiet, and don t 
 answer to the call." 
 
98 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 "But you ain t sure? You hain t seed for sartain V 
 
 " No ! He may be only barked a lectle ; but there s no tel 
 ling. [ durs nt ventur , as Fordham still keeps close !" 
 
 " And what s to be done ?" 
 
 " Claw off that s the how ! Take what we ve got sure, and 
 be off. The boys not in ?" 
 
 " Yes ; they re after the horses. They caught another of th 
 niggpvs. and we ve tied him with the rest." 
 
 " Makes seven V 
 
 " Yes. 1 
 
 We must be satisfied with that, and be off. It s been a 
 niighty hard business, and I m getting tired, and scary too. 
 We ll be having somebody upon us, ef we stay much Ifnger. 
 Better mount, and drive the niggers we ve got, and make for 
 Dooley s Cove. We ought to be there before moonrise." 
 
 " But don t you think we kin git something out of the wagon ? 
 A jng or two of rum, I m thinking, and ^>rrhaps some other little 
 fixings that we kin carry on the saddle?" 
 
 " Well, I suppose we might make a s arch ; but you mustn t 
 be Jong about it. I reckon the boys hev got the horses by this 
 time. There s been nobody to bender, this time. Where did 
 they go to ?" 
 
 " Yonder, in the open piney wood, where there s grass, I m 
 thinking. It s thar the boys went. Hesh thar they come, 
 bringing all the critters. What shall we do about Burke T* 
 
 " Do ! What should we do 1 Mind what the Scripter tellf 
 us- Let the dead bury the dead. " 
 
 " But we don t know that he s dead." 
 
 "And we mus n t resk the life of a live man to find out. Ef 
 he s living, ~ reckon lie knows what to do. We ll make a diver 
 sion in his favor, and he kin then snake away to the swamp. 
 Ef he s dead, there s an eend to his troubles, and we kin take, 
 care of his horse among us, and spend his share of the money ! 
 Ain t that sense, I ax you ?" 
 
 " Right ! But about the divarsion ?" 
 
 "Well, look you these chaps this overseer Fordham 
 d n his quarters, I say ! he and the young chap lie about the 
 carriage now, a most within pistol-shot. I ll put myself in the 
 thicket thar " (pointing to a spot, some fifty yards farther on 
 
THE CONFEDERATES CHANGE THEift GAME. 99 
 
 the road, one third of the distance, perhaps, between the wagon 
 and the carriage) "and jest cover the track with my riHe, 
 while you s arch the wagon. Let .Brydges and Tony Hines 
 lead off the niggers. Have our horses ready to follow. Tell 
 V.m to take the woods clowif for a mile or so, then strike into the 
 old road for the burnt church ; we can push a ter them at a 
 .smart gallop, and overtake em any time. Anything more?" 
 
 " No ! go ahead, and put yourself on the watch, and I ll make 
 the s arch. We must pick up some litte vallyables, if we kin." 
 
 " How s your arm ?" 
 
 " Feels a little numbish, but don t hurt. It s only a skin 
 transaction !" 
 
 " Now, don t be long about the wagon s arch j and don t stoy 
 to try the liquor. That s your danger, Dick, you know." 
 
 " Psho ! a taste kin do no man any mischief." 
 
 " But your taste is never less than a swallow, and a swallow, 
 like what you takes, damages mightily the sight-seeing for a 
 rifle. Be quick, now, in what you do, for the sun s lowering 
 fast, and we ve been too long a ready about the business." 
 
 " Be off, Bost, and keep a sharp look out. I ll take care of 
 what I m after." 
 
 Thus the parties separated. A few moments sufficed to put 
 Bostwick in his new place of ambush, covering all approaches 
 from the direction of the carriage ; and to set Norris at work in 
 exploring the contents of the wagon. The two confederates, 
 meanwhile, came up with the horses, which now, with one ex 
 ception, had all been safely recovered. The negroes were then 
 roped together as they were, set in motion, and slowly disap 
 peared from the road ; driven before the two outlaws on horse 
 back. The movement did not escape the keen eyes of Fordham ; 
 and he groaned, in the bitterness of his spirit, as he beheld, first 
 a box, then a sack, then a keg, pitched out from the wagon, as 
 from invisible hands within the vehicle. 
 
 "Thar s the sugar," he muttered; " thar s the coffee; thar s 
 the kag of rum ! The varmints! Lord, ef I could only git a 
 sight of the chap that s so active it s not quite two hundred 
 yards I reckon I d try what vartue s in a good rifle at longer 
 shot than I like to use it in common shooting. But, 
 what can be done?" 
 
1 00 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 The soliloquy reached no ears but his own. He did not yet 
 dare to speak aloud, or to show any sign of life. The very 
 silence, that prevailed around him, led him still to apprehend 
 that his enemies were near him, and still on the watch ; jcvlrile 
 Mrs. Kveieigh, still bound, and still in sight, preserved the quiet 
 of one who was conscious that she had hostile listeners. 
 
 The overseer readily conjectured the game which the ruffians 
 were prepared to play. He saw the negroes marched off by two 
 of the outlaws. There were yet three as he conjectured, with 
 whom he had to contend. Two of them were still, he supposed, 
 in the precincts of the carriage ; and the fifth man was in the 
 wagon. To move against //.////, or to attempt to pursue the tiro, 
 with the negroes, would be to expose himself and companion to 
 the fire of the two whom he assumed to be on the watch for 
 him. He was thus completely masked, and felt himself bewil 
 dered. To draw off from this dangerous neighborhood was his 
 best, policy, yet he dreaded the attempt under the surceillan<. * 
 (as he supposed) of his two enemies. We must add, in justice 
 to our overseer, that his chief anxieties were on account of 
 young Arthur. The devoted fellow never once forgot how pre 
 cious in the mother s eyes was the safety of her only son. To 
 remain quiet still longer, and wait the further development of 
 the schemes of the highwaymen, was the conclusion to which 
 the meditation of Fordham conducted him. To lie close, keep 
 dark, and wait events, is, perhaps, the best policy, always, in 
 any such contest, where we do not see clearly the prospect or 
 propriety of action. He did not adopt this policy in vain. 
 Hardly had he come to this resolution, when the scene was 
 changed by the introduction of other parties. For these, how- 
 e.ver, we must open another chapter. 
 
THE LAST DROP OF JAMAICA. 101 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 l-HK LAST D 10P OF JAMAICA IN THE VETERAN S BOTTLE. 
 
 THE reader will, perhaps, find it advisable to go back with us 
 to a certain small group of Marion s partisans, whom we left, > n 
 joittr, from the camp of that chieftain, for the ancient settlements 
 upon the Ashepoo, which they had abandoned at the opening of 
 the Revolutionary struggle, to undergo the capricious events of 
 war. Captain Porgy, and his little suite of three persons, having 
 been making easy progress since we left them have advanced 
 considerably on their way homeward, and are now almost within 
 striking distance of the Ashepoo. A few miles beyond it, and 
 the captain will once more be able to contemplate his ancient 
 homestead the paternal house and hearth, the well-known fields 
 and woods a once valuable property which had been transmit 
 ted to him through three or more careful generations he, alas ! 
 being the only careless one of the race in whose hands their 
 continued accumulations had constantly undergone diminution, 
 until now, when, what with his own profligacy and the misfor 
 tunes naturally following the sort of Avar through which the col 
 ony had just gone, his homestead was almost wholly desolate, 
 stripped of negroes, and covered with debt as with a winter gar 
 ment. 
 
 Porgy had been a fast youth. He had never been taught the 
 pains of acquisition. Left to himself his own dangerous keep 
 ing when a mere boy, he had too soon and fatally learned the 
 pleasures of dissipation. The war found him pursued by debt 
 and embarrassments, as unrelaxing as the furies that hunted the 
 steps of Orestes. He had found temporary relief from the hands 
 of usury, and may thus be described as falling from the grasp 
 of the Furies, into the worse keeping of the Fates. He held 
 himself very nearly a ruined man, when the war began ; and 
 the loss of numerous negroes, carried off by the enemy, gave 
 him no reason to doubt upon the subject. His lands were mort- 
 
102 WOODCRAFT, 
 
 gaged, the negroes gone, his debts cried aloud against him fot 
 judgment, and lie had reason to know that his chief creditor was 
 on the watch for his return. The cessation of war, which strip 
 ped him of his occupation, was an event which necessarily re 
 stored the common law to its fearful activity. The camp was 
 now doomed to pale in the shadow of the court ; arms must give 
 way to the gown ; and the laurels of war soon wither, in si^ht 
 and from remembrance, when the tongue only is allowed to carry 
 on the contests of human antagonism. The pillars in war, are 
 notoriously the caterpillars in peace, and there was no blessed 
 exemption, in the lot of Captain Porgy, from this distressing 
 prospect. Of that he was well assured. He did not once de 
 ceive himself. He could, with sheer force of will, expel from 
 his presence the gloomy prospect, but he had no imagination 
 such as would enable him to look on it, till he made it grateful 
 and encouraging. 
 
 To the strongest nay, to the most reckless nature there 
 will be always something humbling and oppressive in the sur 
 vey of such a situation. The questions " what is to be done ?" 
 "whither am I to turn?" "of what am I capable?" 
 "where is my resource?" to be asked of himself, for the first 
 time, and by the man who has already passed middle ago, are 
 well calculated to fling a pall over the prospect, and make the 
 heart to shrink at the entrance upon the unknown void of life 
 vhich yet, spreads before it. Porgy was the man to feel, thor 
 oughly, the discouraging and sad, in this survey ; for he was a 
 man really of good sense and many sensibilities; but he had 
 moral resources which kept him from basely cowering and whi 
 ning beneath the cloud. He was only not so blind as not to see 
 it with oppressive distinctness to feel its pressure, to acknowl 
 edge the doubts and embarrassments which crowd upon his 
 patli ; not to shudder at them basely, or to yield to any weak 
 nesses of mood, in consequence. Besides, he had a taste for 
 pleasure, was not a little of an epicure there may have been, 
 indeed, some affectation in this characteristic and he prided 
 himself upon the fact that he could extract his morals always 
 from his appetites. He took philosophy with him to his table, 
 and grew wise over his wine. So, at least, he claimed to do. 
 
 We have seen him, in a previous chapter, resorting to this sort 
 
THE LAST DROP OF JAMAICA. 108 
 
 of remedy against the cares which he was yet compelled to con 
 template appealing to his appetites against his griefs, and 
 seeking consolations against thought, in his last bottle of Jamaica. 
 It so happens that in resuming our acquaintance with his party, 
 we find him again similarly engaged, it is noonday and past. 
 Our partisans feel the necessity of stopping for refreshment, on 
 the route. 
 
 They have reached a pleasant spot upon the roadside, a 
 rill of sweet water trickling across the sandy highway from 
 a green copse that shelters it and there are still a few 
 bright drops in the corpulent bottle of Jamaica one of a shape 
 and size, that we do not often see in use in these degenerate 
 days. It was, in shape, an oblong square, with portly capacities, 
 holding, perhaps, a trifle under a gallon. A netting of wire- 
 grass envelops it, affording it comparative safety against the 
 vicissitudes of travel. The party have tasted of the beverage 
 ere we come upon them. The bottle leans against a tree just 
 above the streamlet. Tom, the cook, has been again made to 
 descend to unstrap his- wares, and prepare his hoe-cake and 
 bacon. The feast has, already, in a great measure, been en 
 joyed. The only persons who still show an imrelaxing appetite, 
 are the sergeant, Millhouse, the one-armed veteran, and Tom, 
 the African. You may see that each of these carries in his hand 
 certain fragments of bread, and broiled ham of corresponding 
 dimensions, the latter done to a turn. The sergeant eats as if 
 duly conscious of Tom s excellence as a cook, and for no other 
 reason. He is not silent when the expression of his gratitude 
 is becoming. 
 
 " Tom," says he, " I shall never be able to eat br iled ham of 
 an;y other cook but you ! You knows what a br ile ought to be, 
 Torn, and what hog-meat naturally desarves." 
 
 " I ought for know, Mass Millhouse ! Maussa show me how 
 for cook em hese f. Mass Porgy fus -rate cook ! He tan y 
 | stand] ober me when I fus begin for 1 arn. May-be he no cuss 
 when I sp ile em ! Sometime I do em too much, sometime I 
 do em too little ; he cuss bote times, and sway [swear] he ll 
 make me see h 1 ef I do em so nex time. Wha den ? I no 
 want for sec h 1, and I min [mind]. I 1 arn . Once I 1 arn, 
 I nebber forgit. Maussa hole me to em. He quick for cuss 
 
104 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 like the dcbbil ! Sometimes he lick! But, wha den 1 I al 
 ways hab good share of wha I cook. Ef Maussa only hat 
 skin ob dc pig, he sure for gib ma de yays [ears] and tail." 
 
 " He s a d d good fellow, Tom Cappin Porgy. I d a 
 
 IHHMI a dead dog ef twa n t for him. But he seems mighty dull, 
 these times, Tom; droopy, I may say ; like a young turkey 
 in wet weather." 
 
 Tom looked with interest toward his master, who was sitting 
 some steps off reclining, rather than sitting beneath a tree, 
 with young Lance Frampton, the ensign, in attendance. In the 
 low tones of voice employed by the sergeant and the negro, in 
 this conference, they were quite unheard by the subject of their 
 dialogue. 
 
 " I sh um [see em]," responded the negro. " De trute is, 
 Mass Millh us de bakin is most gone; de bottle, I spec 
 [expect] hab room nough for fill agcn ; I most fear d der s 
 no quite nough lef in em, to gib you and me anoder dram ; 
 and de army s broke up, de British and torys, day say, all gone ; 
 and nobody lef for we ravage pon, and git new supplies. Da s 
 it ! Wha we for do now, is de t ing. It s dat wha , make Mass 
 Porgy look like young tukkey in rainy wedder." 
 
 " Tom, old boy, we ll have to work for the cappin." 
 
 " You work, Mass Millh us 1 wha you kin do when you only 
 got one han 1" 
 
 " But I m got a h 1 of a big heart for my friend, Tom, by 
 thunder; and when there s heart enough in a man s buzzum, 
 Tom, he kin always find arms enough to sarve his friend, even 
 if so be both hands are chopped off." 
 
 " Der s trute in dat, Mass Millh us," answered the negro 
 gravely with an assured shake of the head. 
 
 " Truth ! By thunder, Tom, it s all truth ! It s the body and 
 soul of truth, and I m the man to prove it ! I ll work ! The 
 cappin shan t want ! He can t do much, Tom, for himself, see 
 ing that there s to be no more fighting, which is the only work 
 that a gentleman kin do, without s iling his fingers." 
 
 " Mass Porgy is gempleman for true." 
 
 " Let anybody stand up and say he ain t, and I ll gallop 
 through him, by thunder!" 
 
 " I trot t rough arter } on, Mass Millh us " 
 
THE LAST DROP OF JAMAICA. 105 
 
 " But he don t need that. He s the man to do all his own 
 fighting, and mighty glad of the chance." 
 
 " Fight like de debbil, Mass Millh us ! You take some more 
 of dis br ile ? * 
 
 ".No, Tome, no more; and yet, you do br ile it so bloody 
 fine that yes! You may fork over that bit. The small bit, 
 Tom, keep t other piece for yourself." 
 
 " I done ! Ef der was only de smalles drop o dat Jimaica 
 in de bottle !" 
 
 The fellow looked wistfully toward his master. The eye of 
 Sergeant Millhouse took the same direction ; but neither of them 
 would have dreamed of doing, or saying, anything, which might 
 declare their wants to their superior. But it was in proof of 
 Captain I orgy s claim to the character they had both been 
 pleased to assign him, that of the gentleman, that he always 
 duly considered the claims of the interior, and anticipated their 
 reasonable desire. As if divining their wishes, he seemed to 
 waken up at this moment, and cried out from his tree, to Mill- 
 house : 
 
 " Sergeant, there s still a drop of the Jamaica for you in the 
 bottle. Give what you leave to Tom. There s, perhaps, a toler 
 able sup for you both ; but it s the last. I suppose, whenever 
 we deserve it, the good Fortune will send us more." 
 
 Millhouse did not wait for a second invitation. Tom smacked 
 his lips as the sergeant approached him with the bottle. 
 
 " Wha I bin say, Mass Millh us 1 Ef Mass Cappin had only 
 de skin oh de pig, he will gib we de tail and yays." 
 
 " He s a born gentleman, by thunder ;, and we ll work for him. 
 Tom, more hard than any nigger he ever had. * 
 
 " 1 tan [stand] up wid you for dat, Mass Millh us. I cook 
 myse f fore I guine le Maussa want for dinner. So long as 
 <!ere s coon and possum, squerril and rabbit in de wood, pat- 
 t ridge and dub [dove] duck in de libber, and fish in de pond 
 so long, I tell you, Torn will always hab nough somet ing to 
 cook ! As for de corn, we kin make dat too. Ef you no got 
 two han for hoe, Mass Sergeant, you kin drop de seed." 
 
 " But I kin hoe like h 1, with one hand jest as well as two ! 
 Why not ? By thunder, Tom, you must think me a sort of child, 
 old fellow, ef you think 1 kaain t!" 
 
 5 
 
106 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 " Well, Mass Sergeant, I know you hab cle strengt , but it 
 don t come so easy to cle one-liancl man. You liab cle strengt , 
 You will help me pack up de pots and kettles, when we ready 
 for start, Mass Sergeant?" 
 
 " Why not, nigger ? To be sure ! It s for your maussa, 
 Tom, and I love him, boy, and I ll be his nigger, too, when it 
 ain t cwdecend that s to say, when there s no company. Ef a 
 great colonel or ginneral should come to visit the cappin 
 Colonel Singleton, maybe, or the Old Fox himself, maybe, or 
 Ginneral Greene, or any other big person why then, Tom, 
 don t say work to me them times ! I must be in my rigimentals 
 when they comes, and stand jist behind the cappin." 
 
 "Da s right? I comperhend. Mass Millh us ! Every nig 
 ger to he own sawt o bizzness. But, hello ! Wha dis I see. 
 Der s strange pusson, Mass Millh us, corning out do bush ! 
 Wha fordat? Man da run ! Nigger da run ! He holla ! Ha! 
 look da Mass Millh us. Two nigger da run. Enty T know 
 em 1 Stop ! Le me see. Sure as a gun, Mass Millh us, one 
 ob dem boys is our Pomp. I lef em a boy ! He s grow a 
 man! Wha Pomp! Da you? Ha! ha! ha! --ho! ho! 
 ho ! Lord ha inussy [mercy] pon my eyes ! Dey blin wid 
 water!" 
 
 We must account for these broken apostrophes hereafter. Wfl 
 owe it to Captain Porgy and his companion, to bestow our atten 
 tions upon them also, and see what have been their meditations 
 while at dinner. 
 
PHILOSOPHY IN THK BEGGAR S WALLET. 107 
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 PHILOSOPHY IN THE BEGGAR S WALLET. 
 
 THE moment we choose for reintroducing Captain Porgy, and 
 his late lieutenant to our readers, is one which is usually found 
 to fulfil all the conditions of happiness to the ordinary mortal. 
 They have dined. Crouched at ease, under the shadows of an 
 enormous oak, they have feasted upon the simple fare provided 
 hy the hands of their excellent cook, and have done the amplest 
 justice to the thin slices of broiled ham, "done to a turn," and 
 the brown hoe-cake, in the proper composition of which, Tom 
 had established in camp the most enviable reputation. These 
 constituted the sum total of their commissariat. The sufficient 
 potations of oily old Jamaica had followed ; and with a sense of 
 physical satisfaction which greatly brightened the prospect, 
 Captain Porgy leaned back against the shaft of the tree, and 
 closed his eyes in order justly to enjoy it. 
 
 That complacent sort of revery which usually occupies every 
 mind, after the noon-day appetite has been subdued and satis 
 fied, had already seized upon our corpulent captain. Under its 
 present influences, the state of his affairs began to look less 
 gloomy. The circumstances which more particularly pressed 
 upon his thoughts at this juncture the loss of his late employ 
 ment, the involvement of his estates, the supposed abduction of 
 all his negroes, the danger which threatened at the hands of 
 certain creditors sharks, in shoals, lying in wait, like tigers of 
 the land, seeking what they may devour these crowding and 
 dismal figures upon his landscape which, before he dined, had 
 rendered his thoughts a very jungle, worse than Indian, of lions, 
 tigers, and snakes of mammoth dimensions with the consumma 
 tion of the noon-day meal, retreated from before his path, dis 
 armed of most of their errors, and, though still lurking and still 
 hostile, looking so little capable of doing mischief, that our cap 
 tain began to wonder at his own feebleness of soul which had, 
 but a little while before, so greatly alarmed him on their account. 
 
1U8 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 A mild and soothing languor of mood, as if by magic, changed 
 and modified all the figures in his landscape : and Nature, hav 
 ing gained time which is the best capital, after all, as well in 
 morals as in war it was surprising how grateful and agreeable 
 became the philosophy which she had taught our captain. lit; 
 actually to the amusement of Lance Frampton, who had tried 
 in vain to soothe his melancholy mood as they rode together 
 before dinner began to chuckle aloud, yet unconsciously, du 
 ring his revery, and finally afforded to his young lieutenant an 
 opportunity to twit him, goo 1 humoredly, upon his sudden change 
 of humor, by snapping his fingers in the air, as if at the flight 
 of some enemy, whom he had successfully combated. 
 
 " Well, I say, captain, you don t seem quite so sick of life as 
 you said you were before dinner. I reckon you won t be shoot 
 ing yourself, as you threatened, only a little while ago." 
 
 " Well, boy, what then ? Is life less loathsome because one 
 learns to laugh at it as well as hate it?" 
 
 " But you don t hate it, captain not now." 
 
 "No, and for a good reason because I no longer fear it. 1 
 see the worst of it. I see all that it can do, and all that it can 
 deny, and I feel, let it do its worst, that I m the man for it." 
 
 " And what s made you so much stronger now to bear, cap 
 tain, than you were only an hour agone ?" asked the youth, with 
 an insinuating chuckle. 
 
 "Dinner, you dog, I suppose dinner and drink. Is that 
 what you mean ? Well I grant you. We are creatures 
 of two lives, two principles, neither of which have perfect play 
 at any time in the case of a man not absolutely a fanatic or a 
 brute. The animal restrains the moral rnan, the moral man 
 checks the animal. There are moments when one obtains the 
 ascendency over the other, and our moods acknowledge this 
 ascendency. Before dinner, my animal man was vexed and 
 wolfish. It rendered me savage and sour. I could not think 
 justly. I could not properly w r eigh and determine upon the 
 value of the facts in my own condition. I exaggerated all 
 the ills of fortune, all the evils before me, my poverty, my inca 
 pacity, and the ferocious greed of my creditors. My soul was 
 at the mercy of ray stomach. But. the wolf pacified, my mind 
 acquired freedom. The wild beast sank back into his jungle, 
 
PHILOSOPHY IX THE BKGGAll S WALLET. 109 
 
 and the man once more walked erect, having no fear. Philos 
 ophy, my boy, appears once more to comfort me, and the land 
 scape grows bright and beautiful before my evening sun." 
 
 " Well, all s right then, captain, until you get hungry again." 
 " Poll, poh ! boy sufficient for the day is the evil thereof. 
 God will provide. Vex me not with what to-morrow may 
 bring forth, or refuse to bring forth. To-day is secure. That 
 is enough ; and the philosophy nch to-day has brought, will, 
 no doubt, reconcile me to-morrow. Hear you, Lance ? It is the 
 first policy in a time of difficulty or danger, always to know the 
 worst never to hide the truth from yourself never to per 
 suade yourself that the evil is unreal, and that things are better 
 than they really are. When you know the worst, you know 
 exactly what is to be done, and what is to be endured. In time 
 of war, with the enemy before you and around you, you are 
 required to see his whole strength, give him full credit for what 
 he can do, and ought to do, and determine, accordingly, whether 
 it be your policy to fight, or fly, or submit whether you can 
 fly what will be your treatment if you yield, and what is the 
 reasonable chance of safety or victory, if you resolve to fight. 
 In time of peace the necessity is the same. Peace is only a 
 name for civil war. Life itself is civil war ; and our enemies 
 are more or less strong and numerous, according to circumstances. 
 One of the greatest misfortunes of men, and it has been mine 
 until this hour, consists in the great reluctance of the mind to 
 contemplate and review, calmly, the difficulties which surround 
 us to look our dangers in the face, see how they lie, where 
 they threaten, and how we may contend against them. We are 
 all quite too apt to refuse to look at our troubles, and prefer that 
 they should leap on us at a bound, rather than disquiet our 
 selves, in advance of the conflict, by contemplating the dangers 
 with wliieli we think it impossible to contend. I have just suc 
 ceeded ri overcoming this reluctance. I have arrayed before 
 my mir. j?s eys all my annoyances, and the consequence is that 
 I snap my lingers at them. As old Jerry Sanford used to cry 
 out when he was in a fight, Hurra for nothing ! Jerry was a 
 true philosopher. His motto shall be mine. Hurra for nothing 
 seems to me to embody the full amount of most men s matter 
 for rejoicing." 
 
110 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 "Well now, captain, it s a fine philosophy, I reckon, that ll 
 bring a man to such a sort of feeling. But, if I may take the 
 liberty, I d just like to know, how such a philosophy can put a 
 stop to the troublt. make the enemy quit the field, drive the 
 creditors off the plantation, and fill the corn-crib when it s 
 empty 1 I ask these questions with your permission, captain, 
 seeing as how you ve been good enough to talk to me upon your 
 affairs, and your debts, and t i. i troubles from the sheriff that 
 you re so much afraid of." 
 
 " Afraid of the sheriff, boy ! Who dares to say that of me 1 
 Never Avas I afraid of a sheriff in my life. D n him ! Let 
 him come. I have the heart, or I m no white man, to take the 
 whole posse comitatus by the snout." 
 
 " Posse, comitatus ! 01), I reckon you mean the deputies ?" 
 
 "Ay, ay the host of deputies a legion of deputies if you 
 will, from the Pedee to the Savannah. But you haven t caught 
 my ideas, Lance. I must try and be more intelligible." 
 
 " I thank you, captain." 
 
 " You know, Lance, as well as anybody else, that I ve been a 
 (1 (1 fool in my time." 
 
 " Yes, captain, to be sure." 
 
 Porgy s self-esteem was not pleased with so ready a con- 
 "cession. 
 
 "Well, boy, I don t mean exactly. that. How the devil do 
 you know anything of my folly?" 
 
 " Oh, I can guess, sir." 
 
 "Can you, indeed?" with a sardonic grin. "You are too 
 knowing by half, sir presuming to know, for one so young as 
 
 yourself. I mean, boy, that I ve done a d d sight too many 
 
 foolish things. This don t make a man utterly a fool." 
 
 "No, captain." 
 
 " Unless he continues to do foolish things, mark you." 
 
 " Yes, captain, I see." 
 
 " Most men, the wisest, do foolish things. I don t Knovr, in- 
 deed, but that wisdom itself requires to go through a certain proba 
 tion of folly, in order to acquire the degree of knowledge, which 
 shall teach what folly is what shape it takes, and how it will 
 affent us. I suppose that it was in obedience to this law cf 
 nature, that my follies wore performed. But my error was tLut 
 
PHILOSOPHY IN Till-: BEGGAR S WALLET. Ill 
 
 I continued my probation quite too long. I was ambitious, you 
 see, of the highest sort of wisdom. I made too many experi 
 ments in folly, and found them too pleasant to abandon them in 
 season. The consequence was, that I began to grow wise only 
 as I forfeited the means for further experiment. My wisdom 
 had its birth in my poverty, and as it was through my follies 
 that I became poor, I suppose, logically, I am bound to say 
 that I was wise because I had been so great a fool. Do you 
 comprehend me 
 
 " A little, captain ; I think I see." 
 
 "You will understand me better as I go on. I wasted 
 money a great deal ran into debt sold negroes mort 
 gaged others and when I joined the brigade, my plantation 
 was mortgaged also I can t tell you for how much. But, 
 even if the British and tories had not stolen all the rest of my 
 negroes, the sale of the whole of them would scarcely have paid 
 the debt then, and there s some six years interest since. A 
 very interesting condition of affairs, you will admit, for my con 
 templation now." 
 
 " Very, sir." 
 
 " Now, to look fully these affairs in the face requires no 
 small degree of courage. I confess, until I had finished dinnei 
 to-day, I was scarcely the man for it. But that last draught of 
 that blessed and blessing old Jamaica did Millhouse and Tom 
 get a good sup of it?" 
 
 " Pretty good, captain." 
 
 " They require good measure, both ! Well Lance, boy, tfcat 
 last sup of the Jamaica seemed to warm up my courage, and I 
 resolutely called up the whole case, didn t suppress any of the 
 facts, looked at all the debts, difficulties, duns, and dangers, and 
 said to myself, A fig for em all. Let the lands go, and the 
 negroes go, and still I m a man ! a man !" 
 
 " That s the way, captain," responded the youth, with entliu- 
 Biasm, seizing the extended hand of his superior, and pressing it 
 with a real affection. 
 
 " It was just when I had come to this conclusion, Lance, that 
 [ snapt my fingers. I couldn t help it. It was the spontaneous 
 sign of my exultation ; and as I did so, I thought I saw the 
 d c! mealy face, blear eyes, hook nose, and utterly rascally 
 
112 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 whole, of my creditor M Kcwu, back out from before me, and 
 take to the woods at a full run. Along with him went the 
 sheriff and the whole swarm of deputies, all of whom have been 
 
 dodging about me the whole morning, shaking their d d 
 
 writs, ca. sa s, fi. fa s, and a thousand other offensive sheets of 
 penal parchment in my face. I discomfited the wretches by 
 that same simp of the fingers; and the adoption of old Jerry 
 Sanford s cry of battle Hurrah for nothing! has made me 
 able to back poverty and the sheriff into the woods!" 
 
 "I m so glad, captain!" after a pause, was the response of 
 Lance Frampton ; but, with some hesitation, and perhaps not 
 well knowing how to shape the question which he only desired 
 to intimate " but, captain, is that all ? Will it end so V 
 
 "End Low?" 
 
 "Won t the sheriff come again?" 
 
 " What then ! Give him another snap of the fingers, and the 
 war-cry." 
 
 " But won t he take " 
 
 " The property ? Yes ! I suppose after a while I shall have 
 
 to surrender ; but we ll make a d d long fight of it, Lance ; 
 
 and we ll get terms, good conditions, when we give in go off 
 with our sidearms, flag flying, and music playing the grand 
 march Hurrah for nothing ! " 
 
 " But, captain," continued the youth, " I don t altogether know. 
 You re a man of learning, and can tell much better than me ; 
 but I m rather dubious. When I was a boy, old Humphries of 
 Dorchester, father of our Bill, you know, he sent the sheriff 
 after my father, and took him, and took all the property besides, 
 even to the very beds and bedding. Now, won t they take you, 
 captain, if you can t pay ?" 
 
 " Take me, boy ! Do I look like a man in danger from the 
 claws of a sheriff? No, no ! There will be blows in that busi 
 ness. They know better, Lance. In fact they are content > 
 dealing with a gentleman and a soldier, to take his baggage- 
 wagons, his impedimenta, and that purely out of kindness, as 
 they desire to free him from all incumbrances. They will hardly 
 
 attempt more. That d d harpy, M Kewn, will-be quite con- 
 
 tent, I suspect, to take the plantation. There are no negroes 
 left, I fe,ar." 
 
PHILOSOPHY IN THE BEGGAR S WAL^eTi. 113 
 
 " But Tom ?" 
 
 " Tom ! oh, ay ! And yon think Tom liable I" 
 
 " Ain t he, then ?" 
 
 " Well, I suppose so. Tom is certainly a negro. Tom is 
 certainly mine. As mine, Tom is liable for my debts, and it 
 
 may be that some d d fool of a creditor or sheriff may fancy 
 
 (hat he can take Tom. But he shall have a hint in season of 
 the danger of any such experiments upon my philosophy. 1 
 love Tom. Tom is virtually a free man. It s true, being n 
 debtor, I can not confer freedom upon him. But let a sheriff 
 touch him, and I ll put a bullet through his diaphragm. I will, 
 by Jupiter ! If I don t do that, Lance if there s no escape 
 for Tom for they may seize him when I m napping after 
 dinner, perhaps then, I shall kill Tom, Lance; I ll shoot linn. 
 him, Tom in order to save him. The poor fellow lias 
 faithfully served a gentleman. He shall never fall into the 
 hands of a scamp. I ll sacrifice him as a burnt-offering for my 
 sins and his own. Tom, I m thinking, would rather die my 
 slave, than live a thousand years under another owner." 
 
 " He does love you, captain. 
 
 " And I love him. The old rasc.il, I do love him. He makes 
 the finest stew of any cook in Carolina. He shall cook for me 
 as long as I m able to eat ; and when I m not, we shall both be 
 willing to die together." 
 
 " Well, but captain, you was saying " 
 
 "Ah! yes. We are supposing that, all s gone, lands, ne 
 groes, baggage all the impedimenta. Everything but Tom 
 and what then ? That is the point which I have reached, and 
 to which my philosophy reconciles me. It is still possible for 
 me to live." 
 
 Oh, yes, sir!" 
 
 " H^w the devil should you know ? To be sure, I could live 
 precisely \s you and a thousand others would live ; but you see. 
 L nice, life "s a very different thing to different persons. One 
 man lives like i dog, a hog, a skunk, a coon, or even a cabbage. 
 With such a person, you can despoil him of nothing by any pro 
 cess. You can not rojb him. Thieves can not break into his 
 premises and steal. Take all he has, and he loses nothing. He 
 o. .i still find grabbage water lies conveniently before him in 
 
114 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 every puddle and he may swallow air without even vexing 
 the fears of a chameleon. He acknowledges only the principle 
 of distension, not of taste or even appetite, and there is no stint 
 of grasp and weeds for a starving heifer. Root pig or die, is 
 \vii.h him the whole body of law; and his snout has long since 
 been practised in finding its way into the potato-hills after the 
 crop has been withdrawn. But to reconcile a man, with my 
 training, to such a life, requires a rare philosophy indeed. How, 
 with such tasfes as mine, am I to live? how dig? where find 
 potatoes, and with what substitutes for tea, and coffee, and Ja 
 maica, refresh the inner man ? That I should be able to cry 
 Hurrah for nothing! with perfect good-humor, after such a 
 survey of my case, is the glorious triumph that I have this day 
 achieved. Would you believe it, Lance, that I go out of the 
 war with a paltry eleven guineas in my pocket ? And this is 
 all I really own in the world ; but 
 
 "Captain!" 
 
 "Well!" 
 
 " I ve got a let tic more than that. Here s twenty guineas 
 that Colonel Singleton gave me more than a month ago. If 
 you re willing, we ll put yours and mine in the same bag, and 
 you shall have the keeping of it." 
 
 " You re a good boy, Lance, and I love you ; but d n your 
 
 guineas. What should make you think that I want em ? 
 What should make you think so meanly of me as to suppose 
 that I would rob you of your little stock in trade ?" 
 
 " But it s no robbery, captain I m glad to " 
 
 " Pooh, pooh ! Put up your guineas, Lance. You ll want 
 ern all. Don t I know you.? Are you not going to marry that 
 pretty little witch, Ellen Griffin?" 
 
 "Well, sir I reckon. Yes, sir, Ellen and me " 
 
 " Give her the bag to keep ! Don t trust yourself wit % it, o:;, 
 in some fit of folly, you ll be for giving it to some other person, 
 who will take you at your Avord. You will want all tnat, and 
 even more, to begin your career in this world. As for me, I st?- 
 exactly what I am to do, and will tell you." 
 
 " I ll thank you, sir." . 
 
 " There was, many years ago, an old Frenchman, tha : 
 name into our neighborhood. He was the most dwarfish au.^ 
 
115 
 
 ilried-up little fellow in the we rid. He was as poor as Job s 
 turkey " 
 
 " Why was Job s turkey so poor, captain ?" 
 
 " I suppose that, being a favorite with Job himself, his wife 
 
 never fed it, But don t interrupt me by asking such a d d 
 
 unnecessary question, Lance ! As I was saying of this French 
 man, he was wretchedly poor, in purse as in body, owned no 
 goods that I could see except the clothes on his back, and a 
 miserable little single-barrel bird-gun, small in bore, but some. 
 thing taller than its owner. The only luxury that the old fel 
 low indulged in was snuff; and with this, his upper lip, his shirt- 
 bosom, coat-sleeve, and vest pocket, were all dyed deeply with 
 a never-fading saffron brown. His snuff, gun, a supply of pow 
 der and shot, and an old box with some mean cooking apparatus, 
 were his only possessions. I doubt if he had an extra pair of 
 breeches. He alighted suddenly in the neighborhood, and pre 
 sented himself before me, with a polite bow, and a most per 
 suasive, grin. 
 
 " Monsieur Porgy, I yer of you! You s all let me live on 
 your plantation ! Dere is one house ob log by de leetle swamp ! 
 Dere s all be nobody live in him i Spose you s all soffre me, 1 
 s all live in him ! I have no money to pay ! I live by my 
 leetle gon ! I s all shoot your little de dove, de what you 
 call him, patridge, de squirrel, de rabit, all de leetle beast. I 
 no trobblc de deer, and de big bird de torkey ! You s all 
 soffre me dat leetle house, and to hill, for my leetle dener, dese 
 leetle bird, and de leetle beasts, I s all be votre tres homble sar 
 vant two t ousand times, and s all t ank, free, seven, eight, fiv 
 limes ovair ! 
 
 " I consented to the very moderate entreaty ; but offered that 
 iic should live with me offered him money but he refused 
 everything but the simple privileges which he applied for, to liv 
 in de leetle pole house, by de leetle swamp, and kill de leetle 
 birds and beasts. . here, accordingly, this poor fellow lived, for 
 seven years, literally on nothing. He would accept no gifts, 
 and even strove to put me under obligations. If, for example, 
 he shot a pair of fine English ducks, which was sometimes the 
 case, he would bring them to ine with a grateful grin 
 
 " Monsieur Porgy, you s ll do me de ver great honneur. 
 
116 
 
 At first I accepted, but when lie steadily refused my help, J 
 refused his game, except as i purdi.iso. His wants were few 
 and easily provided. His powder and shot, his snuff and coffee, 
 salt and sugar, oil and vinegar, these he procured from a ped 
 lar who went the rounds of the parish at stated periods. To 
 procure these articles, he sold at the cross-roads, or to neighbor 
 ing families, his surplus game. He planted a couple of acres of 
 corn and peas, just about his habitation, which, under his culti 
 vation, yielded twice or thrice as much as any two of my best 
 acres. His food, besides, was wholly procured by his gun, yet 
 he was not a surprising shot. But he was indiscriminate inbis 
 slaughter of de lecth birds. Pie showed few preferences. If 
 the dove and partridge did not come immediately in his way, he 
 shot down woodpecker and blue-jay. The hawk was not re 
 jected from his cook-pot. He luxuriated in coon and possum 
 when he could get them, and with this object, he frequently 
 went on the night-hunts with the negroes. His taste required 
 that his birds and beasts should be utterly stale before Jie ate 
 them. His larder was hung with birds, of all sorts, almost drop 
 ping to pieces, before lie thought them well flavored enough for 
 his palate. Then, with a little salt, oil, and red pepper, he made 
 his meal with the relish of one who has eaten of a princely feast. 
 He was always cheerful as a lark. He sang and even danced 
 alone beneath his trees. He had been on the place for about a 
 year, when he went off suddenly, on foot, to Charleston. When 
 he returned, he brought back with him an old violin, the vilest 
 looking thing in the world, but stuffed to the core with the 
 sweetest music, which the old fellow brought out with singular 
 skill. The instrument was a genuine Cremona a famous fine 
 one which, as I found out afterward, he had left in pawn in 
 the city. His happiness was quite complete when he had re 
 deemed it. I often strolled out to hear him play. He had no 
 apparent griefs. He never complained never even fretted 
 was always ready with a grin of good h.jnor smile he could 
 not, on account of the peculiarly ill-formed mouth which he 
 owned; and so, for seven years, he lived, entirely companion- 
 less. Yet he had visitors, and of his own countrymen. At 
 Christmas, he sometimes had no less than three or four guests, 
 who came again at the close of spring. Without bedding o/ 
 
PHILOSOPHY IN THE BEGGAR S WALLET. 117 
 
 covering, except the scantiest for himself, they remained with 
 him more than a week on each occasion. I was curious to see 
 how he would entertain them, and always paid him a visit when 
 I heard of their arrival. He received them with open arms. 
 They were welcome to all he had. True, he had nothing ; but 
 what then? He made room for them, gave place by the fire 
 side, spread a third of his room with pine straw, ground an extra 
 quantity of corn and coffee ; then, as they had finished their 
 morning meal, he would say Allans! my friends we s all go 
 shoot de leetle birds ! Each had brought his gun, and they 
 knew that each was expected to find his own dinner ; and he 
 did so I have encountered them on their return from a morn 
 ing s excursion, and their bags were full and such an assort 
 ment ! They killed everything that crossed their paths, taking 
 care, however, to spare the big birds and beasts. My French 
 man, Louis Du Bourg, scrupulously respected his pledges. But, 
 in fact, they all lacked the enterprise which required long and 
 remote wanderings. Their largest visitors, of the bird kind, 
 were the duck ; the squirrel and the rabbit were the small deer 
 which satisfied their ambition in respect to large four-footed 
 game. 
 
 " Now, Lance, what I have told you is a history. Poor old 
 Louis Du Bourg is dead : but he has left me his example ! I see 
 exactly how I may live, as happily and as independently as he 
 that is, when all s over, and I have seen the worst. I shall 
 then turn to killing de leetle bird and de leetle beast, squatting 
 on some great man s property. I can surely get this privilege 
 from some of my old associates ; and, with two acres of tolerable 
 land, I shall hoe and hill my own corn; sow and dig my own 
 potatoes ; cook my own hominy ; sell my ducks and birds when 
 1 want powder and shot, and be able, possibly, as I was once 
 something of a hunter, to carry enough venison to market to 
 procure me an occasional demijohn of good Jamaica. Perhaps, 
 in process of time but I need look no farther. Enough, Lance, 
 my boy, that, like my old Frenchman, I shall be able, once or 
 twice a year, to entertain my old friends. You shall come and 
 see me, Lance, you and our friend here, Sargeant Millhouse ; he 
 shall help me set my snares, and you will help me kill my 
 * leetle birds and beasts, and with a coon and possum hunt, b} 
 
118 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 night, we shall lay in sufficient store of venison for a week a en- 
 iertainment. of any fiienrls. There, hoy, is a prospect for yon ; 
 and, after surveying it, I can sing out heartily, and with a phi 
 losophy that is quite consoling Hurrah for nothing! Let the 
 world slide! Sessa. " 
 
 " Oh ! captain," cried the youth, seizing affectionately the 
 !;;md of his superior, "you sha n t work you sha n t hill and 
 hoe corn and potatoes, wiiile I ve the hands to do it for you t 
 I ll come and live with you, and work for you " 
 
 " You forget, Lance, you are soon to have a wife." 
 
 " True to he sure," answered the other, staggered for a mo 
 ment ; hut quickly recovering, he cried " Then, captain, you 
 must come and live with me. Ellen will he glad, and " 
 
 " You re a good fellow, Lance, my lad, and 1 love you, though 
 I don t think that I shall ever he able to become your guest. 
 Twouldn t suit, Lance. It would be all right that you should 
 live with me, and I must insist upon that, boy, until you are 
 fairly married. For me, at. the worst, old Louis Du Bourg s 
 plan is the only one. It will have a look of independence, at 
 least, and that is always a matter of great value to a person of 
 my temper. But, hey ! what s the outcry from Tom, and who 
 are these ? Help heave me up, Lance, and see to your weapons. 
 It looks like a surprise !" 
 
 By dint of great exertions on his own part, and with the 
 strenuous help of his lieutenant, the huge bulk of Captain Porgy 
 was lifted into the perpendicular, and, in a moment, Lance and 
 himself were prepared to make battle as if an enemy were upon 
 them. The cause of the alarm was soon explained; and Tom. 
 the cook, accompanied by Sergeant Millhouse, rapidly ap 
 proached at the command of Porgy, bringing with them two of 
 the escaping fugitives from the wagon of Mrs. Eveleigh ; namely, 
 John, otherwise Sylvester, the slave of the widow and Pompey, 
 junior, belonging to Captain Porgy himself. 
 
TO HORSE! THE CAMP IN MOTION. 119 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 TO HORSE ! THE CAMP IN MOTION. 
 
 "HERE S a smash-and-tear-it sarcumstance, Captain Porgy. 
 as ever you did see," quoth Sergeant Millliouse, advancing be 
 fore tlie fugitives. 
 
 " Der s John Sylvester, Mass Porgy, b long to widow Ebleigh, 
 and dis" thrusting his hand familiarly into the wool of Pompey, 
 and pulling him forward "dis da our own little Pomp, you 
 know." 
 
 " Little ! The fellow s as tall as you are. Why, Pomp ! is 
 that you, boy 1 Where have you been ? What are you doing 
 here 1 They told me you were carried off by the British." 
 
 " I git way, maussa ! Dey tief me, but I git way ! How 
 you bin, Mass Cappin ] God A mighty ! I so glad for see 
 you;" and the fellow ran forward and shook his master s Land 
 with the eagerness with which one welcomes the best friend in 
 the world. "Oh! maussa, it s de blessed t ing you is come. 
 You hab sword and gun. You mus mek haste no\v. De tory 
 got we got Ben and Bill and Josey, Little Peter, and all of 
 we, and Toby, and Jupe, and Sam, an all of dem b long to 
 Miss Ebleigh : and he hab catch Miss Ebleigh, shese f, and bis 
 son, Mass Art ur, and de obe shar, Mr. Fordham, and de wagon, 
 and little Peter, and all only Mr. John Sylbester, yer, and 
 me, Pomp, show em legs, and git way." 
 
 " What the d - 1 does the fellow jabber about ? What s the 
 rigmarole ]" 
 
 " It s a surprise, cappin, and no mistake," put in Sergeant 
 Millhouse, " a smash-and-tear-it business ! as I said before. You 
 see, the tones, so they call crr^ half a dozen or more, in mighty 
 strange clothes and looks " 
 
 " He face and head all bury in hair and whisper, maussa, da a 
 true," interposed John Sylvester. 
 
 " Yes you see?" 
 
120 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 "Well!" 
 
 " Have laid an ambuscade for this lady, her son, oversew 
 wagoi, and negroes, and these two chaps have slipped out of 
 the scrape." 
 
 " Eh ! What s this I" demanded Porgy, at once beginning to 
 perceive that the affair possessed some essentials of importance 
 " Do you mean to say that this ambush has been set to-day 
 that these things have only now taken place * How long fel 
 low you what s your name ?" 
 
 This was said to John Sylvester 
 
 " What ! Mass Porgy, you no member me, John Sylbester, 
 wha b lcng to widow Ebleigh 1 1 sure I member you fas 
 nough." 
 
 " No matter ! To be sure I remember you, John, and your 
 great grandmother, too, if you desire it, but AVC need say nothing 
 of either now. Where is your mistress, John ?" 
 
 "In de wood, Mass Cappin on the road guine home to de 
 plantation, jes down by de leetle creek wha run out of Turkey 
 swamp. Dere we meet dem man in de hair and whisker. He 
 shoot I fear d he kill Mass Art ur and de obe shar [overseer] 
 he catch misses den he jump out pon we people wid de 
 wagon, and I reckon he catch we all, only we two, me and 
 Pomp, get off in de woods. Dey push arter us, but we lef em 
 in little green bay, and run, I spose must be most four miles, 
 fore we see smoke. We creep up, #nd Pomp say *Da s 
 maussa Tom, me fellow sarbant ! I . know em, like me own 
 fadder! " 
 
 " Yes : da me !" quoth Tom, interposing to confirm the re 
 port. 
 
 " And this but now, and only four miles off! and here, you 
 
 (1 d pair of long collards, you ve taken a good hour to tell it. 
 
 Boot and saddle, Lance ! Millhouse, to horse ! Tom, gather 
 up and follow as fast as you can. John Sylvester up behind 
 Lieutenant Frampton. Yon, Pomp, jump up behind Sergeant 
 Millhouse, and show the way between you. Ride apart, Lance, 
 yon and Millhouse, and see to your priming. Let these fellows 
 tell when we are within three hundred yards from the spot where 
 the affair took place. Give the whistle then, and haul up and 
 move with caution. Don t dismount we may have to dash ic 
 
SCAMPER AND SCUL YLK ; KLHJI1T AND FIGHT. 121 
 
 upon the rascals headlong. I ll take the woods between you 
 let there be some twenty yards between us each. And now, at 
 a smart gallop, as soon as you can !" 
 
 It required but a few minutes to prepare the party in order 
 for the march, as required. John jumped up behind Frampton, 
 Pomp look his place in the rear of Millhouse, and Captain Por- 
 gy, sett Lap- these two horsemen in the proper direction, dashed 
 torwar^ through the pincy woods with a spirit and celerity that 
 seemed scarcely consistent with his great bulk, and the languor 
 wnich h 3 had exhibited but a little while before. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 BCAMPKR AM) SCUFFLE; FLIGHT AND FIGHT 
 
 Tut negro guides did their duty with the exactness and 
 promptitude of persons who knew exactly what was required of 
 them, and what was the object of the arrangement. They stopped 
 the rapid motion of the horsemen when within three or four hun 
 dred yards of the spot where they conjectured the wagon had 
 been left, and with that happy instinct which marks the faculty 
 of the southern woodsman, they uttered their several warnings 
 nearly at the same moment. The horsemen drew up carefully, 
 the negroes, John and Pomp, leaped down, and kept along on foot 
 with the horses, which were now held at a walk ; and, in this 
 way, they approached the opening of the road, within eighty 
 yards of the place where the wagon stood. 
 
 Here, Porgy was enabled to get a practical glance of the state 
 of affairs. They arrived at a fortunate moment. The negroes, 
 who had been captured, roped together in pairs, were marching 
 cff under the charge of two of the ruffians, who were both mount 
 ed, and were still to be seen moving slowly away into the pine 
 forests in the distance. Four other horses were discovered fas 
 tened to the swinging branches of a tree some ten or fifteen steps 
 from the Avagon. The wagon-horses were hidden in the woods. 
 The vehicle, itself, however, presented a singular appearance of 
 
 G 
 
WOODCRAFT. 
 
 vitality. The cover had been thrown off, and lay upon the 
 ground on one side of it. On the other were to be seen bales, 
 bags, boxes, arid barrels ; and, every now and then, something 
 was seen to upheave itself within the wagon, to revolve slowly 
 over the sides, and come down upon the ground with a heavy 
 squelch. 
 
 Were the robbers all in the wagon, the two except ed \lu 
 were to be seen going off with the negroes ? That was Fcigy >. 
 rirst question, which he soon answered, as he saw that the con 
 tents of the wagon were thrown out slowly, and separately, giv 
 ing evidence of the presence of a single worker only. Where 
 were the other three? In ambush somewhere but whore! 
 A moment s reflection led our troopers, in a brief conference, tc 
 the conclusion that they were somewhere in front, between the 
 wagon and carriage ; and not in the rear, or on the route which 
 they were pursuing. The carriage was to be seen, and Lance 
 Frampton fancied that he could distinguish the garments of a 
 woman in it. Porgy surveyed the field with a military eye. A 
 dead silence prevailed, broken only by the dull, heavy sound of 
 the falling packages from the wagon. 
 
 " There is some bush-whacking going on still," said he 
 <s some hiding and seeking, but it s not hereabouts. The fellow 
 in the wagon works coolly and composedly, as if he had no ap 
 prehensions. If there had been any suspicion of danger from 
 our side of the woods, the ambush would have been so placed 
 as to have kept us from working so far forward. Our first duty 
 is clear : we must pursue these fellows who are marching away, 
 cut them off, and rescue the negroes. This will compel the 
 ambush to show itself. We may draw their bullets, as we ap 
 pear ; but if we are sudden, with a shout, and go forward at 
 full speed, we are very apt to escape the taste of lead. Wo 
 can ride those rascals down ! They are but two. Lance, you 
 will keep back, and, with John and Pomp, contrive to capture 
 the fellow in the wagon. Don t kill him if you can help it. 
 We must get his despatches, and cut the secret of this expedi 
 tion from under his tongue. Do you hear ?" 
 
 " Every word, captain." 
 
 "Very good; now, if you will dismount, fasten your nag h? 
 the bushes, and creep forward with John and Pomp toward the 
 
SCAMPER AND SCUFFLE ; FLIGHT AND FIGHT. 123 
 
 wagon, you will probably have a good chance, the moment after 
 we make our rush. The rascal will then jump and make for 
 the bushes, or for the horses. In either case, you ought to be 
 able to grapple him. See tx it, and let the boys understand 
 you." 
 
 The negroes were soon instructed, and betrayed a patriotic 
 eagerness to be up and doing. Seeing that Frampton had 
 fastened his horse, and was already advanced upon his way, 
 with his sable allies, in the direction of the wagon, Porgy gave 
 the signal, and, Avith a terrible shout from the throat of Milihousc, 
 the tAvo dashed headlong out of the wood in pursuit of the rob 
 bers Avho had charge of die fugitive negroes. 
 
 At this sound, as Porgy had anticipated, the outlaw, Nora s, 
 who had been at the work of unlading the wagon, naturally 
 [topped up his head to see what was the matter. The vigilant 
 eye of Frampton saw it. He could have shot the fellow even in 
 the single instant of opportunity which was thus afforded him; but 
 lie remembered his instructions, and forbore ; wisely, it seemed, 
 for Nora s, seeing the charge of two well-mounted horsemen upon 
 his companions, and recognising them as new-comers, whoso 
 reinforcement to the tAvo customers whom they had already 
 found so troublesome, might well lead to doubts of his own 
 safety, concluded to see to this matter, without any regard to 
 the spoils contained ill the Avagon. Seizing his rifle, accord 
 ingly, he leaped out of the vehicle, but with singular ill-fortune. 
 His feet alighted upon a hamper of Irish potatoes, part of the 
 contents of the Avagon, which rolled away beneath him, and laid 
 him at length with his face to the ground. 
 
 Before he could recover himself, Lance Frampton was upon 
 him. The rifle of the outlaAV was wrested from his grasp ; and, 
 with the vigorous young lieutenant grasping him firmly by the 
 throat, John Sylvester by the legs, and Pompey, junior, literally 
 sitting astraddle upon his back, Dick Norris resigned himself to 
 his fate, after a few spasmodic but ineffectual struggles ! The 
 whole affair consumed but a feAV minutes, and was concluded by 
 Lance Frampton securing his prisoner within the wagon by the 
 strongest cordage, scientifically knotted ; while John Sylvester, 
 pistol in hand, Avas seated at his head, instructed t quiet him 
 with a bullet, should he -prove troublesome. Frampton, mean 
 
114 WoOlH ItAI T. 
 
 while, vith Pomp, stole away to tlie bushes opposite, prepared 
 to afford succor to his friends whenever there should be need 
 and opportunity. 
 
 Meanwhile, Bostwick, the sq:atter, lying snug in his place of 
 watch, contemplating his enemy only in the direction of the car 
 nage, was confounded by the sudden appearance of the horse 
 men in his rear. With their shout and charge, he became almost 
 instantly aware of the assault upon, and the capivity of Norris ; 
 for though the struggle had taken place on the opposite side of 
 the vehicle, of which he had but a very imperfect view from the 
 spot where he crouched, he could yet see enough to assure him 
 of such an inequality of force between the parties as must be 
 fatal to his colleagues. He was too heedful of himself to incur 
 any unnecessary perils in the effort to succor his companion ; 
 and, indeed, could not well have done so, at least at that dis 
 tance and with his rifle, as it was impossible so to distinguish 
 any of the writhing figures upon the ground, as to be sure that 
 he should not draw his bead upon his friend, rather than his foe. 
 Besides, he well knew, that to show himself, in any demonstra 
 tion upon the new enemies in the rear, he must only become 
 exposed to the shot of those whom he felt to be somewhere 
 harboring, and on the watch, in front. 
 
 To crawl backward to increase the distance between him 
 self and all the^e parties, his own as we ll as the rest became 
 now the selfish policy of the squatter. He could do nothing to 
 help his comrades the negroes would be recovered two of 
 his associates were slain already he himself was in danger, 
 unless he moved promptly away; and besides, he was already 
 in possession of the most valuable of the portable spoils -* the 
 strong-box of the widow, having the important papers, as virtu 
 ally important to the rich M Kewn as to the squatter, Bostwick 
 to say nothing of the fifty guineas in money, which, he had the 
 widow s word for it, was in the strong-box also ; and of which 
 he had already determined to betray nothing to his comrades 
 It required no great argument to persuade him to be content 
 with his acquisitions, and to draw off in season, no matter what 
 fate should befall his companions. He crawled back, accord 
 ingly, slowly and with admirable circumspection; and so 
 changed his ground as to place himself out of immediate reach 
 
BCAMPEE LdT) SCUFFLE; FLIGHT AND FIGHT. l-.j 
 
 of eitlier of the several groups into which his assailants were 
 divided. 
 
 Lut one anxiety alone prevented him from utterly taking his 
 departure. lie would, unhesitatingly, have gone, were he sure 
 that his comrades were all slain, or certain to he slain, without 
 speaking. But the doubt occurred to him. 
 
 " Xorris is taken ! Should he confess ? Should others he 
 taken and confess 1 Thar s the trouble. Thar s the danger 
 and the resk." 
 
 This reflection disquieted him. He lingered in sight of the 
 field of action, fully assured that he ought to fly, yet with that 
 incertitude of mood which left him incapable of determination. 
 
 " If they confess," said he to himself, " there s nothing for rue 
 but to cut and run. The country would be too hot for me !" 
 
 Why should he not leave it] is the que.3f.ion that might occur 
 to anybody else. But the wretch was not without his ties, his 
 affections, his sensibilities, such as they were and when he 
 thought of the necessity of leaving the country, a picture of 
 three young children one tall, sad-eyed girl among them 
 grew vividly up before his eyes. He had a wife, too, but he 
 saw nothing of her. It was the three children alone that 
 formed the spell, so potent, about the heart of the bad and 
 seemingly heartless man. Strange that such a creature should 
 so fuel and think at such a moment ! Yet not strange either. 
 
 Let us follow our partisans. The wild halloo of their onset 
 soon made their presence and purpose apparent to the persons 
 they pursued. Looking about them quickly, one cried to the 
 other : 
 
 " Jimini ! They re Marion s men, as I m a sinner ! Here s 
 a fix ! Cast the niggers loose, Jeff, and use a bloody spur ef 
 you knows how. We must .scatter." 
 
 " How many do you see, Tony ?" cried the other. 
 
 " Only two as yit ; but they rush as ef there was a dozen. 
 They ve got the heels of us too, I reckon ! There s no racing 
 with such a nag as this. I m for the swamp, Jeff! I can t 
 trust the run, I must try the dodge ! And you better do the 
 same, but make your push for t,;ie hammock lower down. We 
 must scatter !" 
 
 Wheeling to the right, as he spoke these words, one of the 
 
126 \VOO.IA 11AFT. 
 
 outlaws made off for the denser woods which conducted to the 
 heart of the swamp, -and was soon lost to the sight of his com 
 panion in the thick undergrowth of that region. The other, 
 whether less apprehensive of danger, or more confident of his 
 horse, which was young and of tolerable swiftness, seemed to 
 hesitate. He bade the negroes run ahead, and hide themselves ; 
 then, once more looking over his shoulder, he felt cfce necessity 
 of going off at all speed, and did so with the best impulse of 
 whip arid rowel. Porgy and Sergeant Millhouse were soon up 
 with the negroes, who cheered them with hearty shouts as they 
 drew nigh. 
 
 " ])a maussa !" was the cry of his own people, almost with one 
 voice. "Hurrah, maussa! Gorrah Mighty bress you! How 
 you do ?" 
 
 " Young, boys, young and lively ! God bless you ! How 
 many of these tory rascals arc there 1 ?" 
 
 " Only two ob them, maussa ; one push right ahead t rough 
 de woods t udder one gone keen for de swamp. Push hard, 
 maussa, you sure for catch em. He hoss no better dan cow for 
 run." 
 
 " Don t mind the fellow in the swamp, sergeant ! We can 
 look for him as we return. Go back, boys, to the wagon, and 
 help Lieutenant Frainpton to put the things into it again, or you 
 will lose all your chance for coffee and molasses. Now, sergeant, 
 as you are left-handed, take the right of this robber, while I take 
 the left. His nag will be a good one, if we do not overhaul him 
 between us in the next three hundred yards." 
 
 No more words ! They were off, separated by an interval of 
 fifty yards, perhaps, and coursing through the pine woods at a 
 tearing gallop. A few minutes hard riding gave them a fresh 
 glimpse of the fugitive. He was making up for lost time, and 
 going through the undergrowth, and among the thick-set trees, 
 which began to approach each other more and more closely, at 
 a rate, which, to those who have never beheld a fox chase in the 
 south, would seem sheer desperation. The fellow was a good 
 rider, however, and an experienced hunter, born in the bush, 
 and of kindred to the fox himself!" 
 
 "He goes well, but it can t last !" muttered Porgy, as he ap 
 plied his persuaders anew to the flanks of his own high-spirited 
 
SCAMPER AND SCUFFLK ; FLK7I-IT AND FHM1T. .127 
 
 courser. It was wonderful to see how well the animal sped 
 with such a bulk upon his back ! But the stood was a ]> wer- 
 ful one, chosen hecdfully with reference to the severe duty 
 which lie was required to perform. The fugitive looked about 
 him as he fled. The partisan captain could already count his 
 r .".ins. The space was reduced between them. The outlaw 
 soon made this discovery. He extricated one of his pistols from 
 the holster, and knit his teeth firmly together, with the air of a 
 man who already anticipates the worst. Porgy was too good a 
 soldier not to calculate on a certain degree of danger, in such an 
 enterprise as that which he had in hand; but, as he was apt 
 to phrase it himself 
 
 " Danger is a part of the contract ! It is to be counted on, 
 but not considered ! He who stops to consider the danger never 
 goo" into battle ! No wise man, embarking in such an amuse- 
 Ta---.ii 1 - as war, ever considers its mischances as likely to occur in 
 his own case. He knows the fatal sisters have singled out 
 certain favorites for Valhalla, but he always takes for granted 
 that they have, overlooked himself! He relies, always, on his 
 peculiar personal star, and goes into battle not to be killed, 
 but t. kill!" 
 
 With such reflections, our Captain Porgy, corpulent as he is, 
 was very apt to behave in battle, as we are told the Berserkirs, 
 or wild warriors of the Scandinavians, were wont to behave. To 
 clash, with a sort of frenzy, into the worst of dangers, totally 
 heedless of them all, as if bearing a charmed 1 fe and only 
 seeking to destroy ! And such a practice, by the way, is very 
 apt to carry with it its own securities. A rage that blinds the 
 champion to all dangers, and makes him totally unconscious of 
 all fears, is very apt to inspire fear in the enemy who beholds 
 his approach. The onset of Porgy was well calculated to 
 prompt such feelings. A mountain in a passion, and in progress 
 a human avalanche descending upon the plain crashing, 
 rending, overwhelming, as it goes such, in some small degree, 
 was the image presented to the mind of the trembling enemy, 
 seeing the headlong rush of our plethoric captain ! 
 
 Our outlaw was soon enabled to distinguish his chief pursuer. 
 He knew his man as he approached knew his character his 
 fierce, headlong valor, the power of his arm. the fleetness of his 
 
128 WOO DOHA FT. 
 
 steed. His mind became oppressed heavily, with the sense of 
 whelming danger, as he saw the space lessening momently be 
 tween them. He now saw his other assailant, Sergeant Mill- 
 house, who, less rapidly, but quite as certainly, was making 
 toward him on the right. He felt very sure that the game was 
 up with him unless some interposition of good fortune call it, 
 if you will, his gallows destiny should baffle the pistols, or the 
 swords, of his pursuers. The outlaw had no remarkable prop 
 erties of mind or courage; he was only one of the myriad 
 of ordinary men, who, as we are told by the dramatic poet, issue 
 from one common mould ; nature, after their being cast, ashamed 
 of her own handy-work, and sending them forth into the world 
 without putting any mark upon them ! But he was a drilled 
 and practised ruffian ; had served for years as a soldier ; as a 
 robber; as a pirate; and, from habit, and induration, was a 
 man with whom the exigency only brought out the coolness, the 
 determination and resource. He did not show his pistol, but 
 he cocked it ! He saw the course which Porgy rode, and he 
 slightly inclined his horse to the right, in order that he should 
 use his pistol-hand more freely. Porgy suspected his object and 
 made a corresponding change in his own course. He ~?as now 
 sufficiently nigh to the robber to make himself heard. He ac 
 cordingly cried out: 
 
 " Halt, you d d outlaw, and surrender, or I ll cut you 
 
 down in your tracks !" 
 
 The fellow, slightly glancing over his left shoulder, " grinned 
 horribly a ghastly smile," but made no answer. The captain 
 was near enough, by this time, to fancy that he heard the click 
 of the pistol lock ; but it was fancy only. The outlaw had 
 cocked it several seconds before. The latter glanced uneasily 
 at Sergeant Millhouse, who was now approaching him on the 
 right ; and felt the necessity of crippling one of his enemies at 
 once. By this time, Porgy was preparing himself also; but his 
 slightest motion seemed to become apparent to the fugitive. 
 Sharply applying both rowels to his horse s flanks, the great 
 sabre of the partisan captain was drawn in an instant, and the 
 flash of it, as it suddenly waved in air, gleamed unpleasantly in 
 the eyes of the man it threatened. He kept his coolness, how 
 ever, and his course ; and, as Porjry came on with a speed sud 
 
wi AND SCUFFLE; FI/KJHT AND FRUIT. 129 
 
 ienly accelerated, and while he was measuring the distance 
 which he should first overcome .before rising in his stirrups to 
 execute the fatal stroke, the outlaw pulled trigger under his 
 If-, ft arm. 
 
 The eteed of Porgy swayed round at the flash, threw out his 
 f rr. feet wildly, then settled heavily down upon the earth, in 
 C~:-. immediate agonies of death ! Porgy, however, had sufficient 
 warning that the animal was hit, and, releasing his feet from 
 the stirr.im as the beast was falling, he escaped from being 
 ci iv hed .,e T :>ath his weight. He recovered his legs with some 
 .rf.H-t, Int without injury. The horse of the outlaw kept on : 
 but there had been a pause in his progress, which, however brief, 
 had enabled Sergeant Millhouse to get almost within striking 
 distance.. But he was on the right of the outlaw, who, ignorant 
 of the left-handed, and single-handed, condition of the remain 
 ing pursuer, fancied that some change in their relations was 
 necessary to enable the other to use his sword. But he really 
 saw no sword, and his object was simply to escape the pistol. 
 But, against this, Millhouse was desperately resolved. He had 
 litherto kept his steed rather in hand. He now plied him with 
 the terrible Spanish rowels which he wore, and which he never 
 iised but in extreme cases. To the surprise of the outlaw, who 
 had judged of the horse by his previous performances, the 
 animal made but a single bound or two, to bring his rider within 
 striking distance ; then, as the outlaw fumbled to extricate his 
 remaining pistol from the left holster, he beheld, to his increased 
 surprise, a gleaming sabre suddenly plucked from an invisible 
 scabbard, and wielded, with a wonderful ease, in the left hand 
 of his enemy ! He bowed his body to the opposite side of the 
 saddle, drove the spurs into his beast, bore down upon the curb 
 to the left almost swinging the horse about as he rode and 
 all this in a single moment but all too late! A swift, sharp 
 flash, as of lightning, seemed to darken his sight, and the next 
 moment the keen, heavy steel might have been heard to gride 
 through the solid skull of the victim. Down he sunk, hanging 
 to one stirrup, while the frightened horse, dragging him forward, 
 darted blindly into a clump of scrubby oaks, and became tangled 
 and held, until caught by Millhouse. Captain Porgy came up 
 a few seconds after almost as soon, indeed, as Millhouse, who 
 
 6* 
 
180 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 t 
 
 had just alighted to extricate and examine the body. They 
 \>oth bent over the fellow in this scrutiny, but to neither Was the 
 riciim known. 
 
 " The face of the rascal is strange to me," said Porgy, " fe-./a 
 lint s a strange fact in my experience ; for, in tlrj seven years 
 var, I fancy I ve made the acquaintance, in some way 01 . thf:. 
 ,)f all the rascals in the country. Do you know anything j fcoul 
 him sergeant ?" 
 
 " Only that he ? * a rascal, captain, or was so a wh le -,go ; an- , 
 that he s dead now as Job s turkey, with a loss of jul the profi j 
 of his trade. I never seed him afore." 
 
 " The scoundrel ! Had he been Christian enough to havs 
 suffered himself to have been cut down five minutes ago, and 
 before that last pistol-shot, I could have been sorry for him 1 
 But he has done for my noble gray, the best of friends ; a horse 
 that has borne his own flesh and mine so long to the satisfaction 
 of both ! I feel, sergeant, as if I could blubber like a b~>y over 
 his first colt !" 
 
 Our two partisans did not waste any unnecessary time, yc.i 
 may be sure, in a fruitless examination of the outlaw s body ; 
 nor did they consume much thought in speculating upon an 
 event that had too frequently occurred in their experience not 
 to leave them comparatively callous. 
 
 " See what the rascal has about him, sergeant," said Porgy 
 and, like a good trooper, perfectly aware of what such cases 
 usually required, Millhouse searched the clothes, and turned out 
 the " silver lining" of the pockets of the dead man, with all the 
 dexterity of a Parisian chiffonier. He stripped him of every 
 thing of value ; and, seeing that he wore a tolerable pair of 
 English boots, he had them off in the twinkling of an eye; 
 though how the thing was done our chiffonier with one hand 
 only it is as difficult to describe as to conceive. His search 
 into the pockets of the outlaw was productive of no very aston 
 ishing results. They yielded up only a few English shilling? 1 
 and sixpences, an empty flask the odor of which still pun- 
 gently declared for its former contents a clasp, and a dirk- 
 knife, extra flints and steel, a small finger-ring, and the fragment 
 of a bracelet or necklace. The ring had been worn about the 
 neck, suspended by a faded and soiled v iband, which had once 
 
SCAMPER AND SCUFFLE; FL1G AND FIGHT. 131 
 
 been blue. Of what was this the miserable token ? Was it 
 love, or gratitude, or a filial feeling, which had hung this orna 
 ment about the neck of the ruffian ? There is no record ! The 
 memorial was of a nameless virtue ! 
 
 Captain Porgy surveyed the c e things, as they were severally 
 produced by the search of the sergeant, and, after the scrutiny 
 was over, he yielded them, with the grace of a feudal baron, to 
 the possession of the latter. 
 
 " Keep ern, Millhonse, until you find the proper heirs foi 
 them." 
 
 The sergeant grinned, as he replied 
 
 " I reckon they ll be rcther slow, cappin, to ask after em." 
 
 " Send them to me, should they ever be so bold, and these 
 shall furnish my answer," quoth Porgy, at the same time taking 
 possession of the holsters and pistols a very useful pair of the 
 bull species which the outlaw had carried. 
 
 " These and the horse shall be mine, Millhonse ; and then I 
 lose by the exchange. My brave old gray ! He was worth a 
 score of such nags as this!" 
 
 And here he walked round the still trembling animal, taken 
 from the outlaw. 
 
 " Yet he must do ! He has bone and strength enough, per 
 haps, for a season in camp peace and no active service ! He 
 will do to ride about the plantation, and for a Saturday hunt. 
 He must do. The devil take the unchristian dog who should 
 kill a, man s horse in sheer wantonness, and when it couldn t 
 profit him at all!" 
 
 " He worn t to know that, cappin," was the suggestion of 
 Millhouse. 
 
 " He s wiser by this time ! He should have known it. Did 
 he expect to escape us both ? Did he think I d leave such an 
 animal as mine unrevenged ? If you hadn t cut him down, ser 
 geant, and I had laid hands on him, I d have scalped him ! As 
 it is, considering his condition, I forgive him. God forbid that I 
 should harbor malice against the dead. But, were he living ! 
 were he living!" 
 
1S2 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 DELIVERANCE. 
 
 OUR captain of partisans, after this ebullition of pagaA feeling 
 ;MM! Christian philosophy, having mounted the horse of the ruf 
 fian, taken, perforce, in exchange for his own, proceeded, in 
 conF.idevfihle sulk-ness, in the direction of the scene of former 
 action, and where Lance Frampton remained in possession of 
 the wagon. He was followed, more slowly, by Millhouse ; that 
 excellent trooper, following a practice that had been too much 
 taught by the cruel war through which he had gone, leaving the 
 carcass of the slain outlaw upon the spot where he had fallen 
 having no sort of notion, apparently, that humanity required 
 him to give it better sepulture than that afforded by a wintry 
 forest. We shall see, however, that the sergeant s omissions 
 were repaired, at a more becoming moment, by his superior. 
 
 The negroes, meanwhile, still roped in pairs, had returned in 
 safety to the wagon, and had been set free from their villein 
 bonds by the ready couteau de chasse of Lieutenant Frampton. 
 Our captain, on his return, found the latter in quiet possession 
 of the field of action, with the ruffian Norris well hampered with 
 ploughlines under the tail of the wagon, and yoked to one of 
 the. wheels. He deigned but a single glance at the captive, who 
 lay coiled up like a snake, looking quite as full of venom, and 
 just as ready for the spring at his enemy s breast. But the 
 ability no longer seconded the will. Captain Porgy could spare 
 as little of his regard to the grouped negroes, who were all busy 
 in repacking the wagon with its contents, which had been so 
 unceremoniously tumbled out by the captive outlaw. He had 
 recognised the voice of his own slaves, even in the hurry of hip 
 pursuit of the fugitives ; but he had not then scanned their faces 
 Their familiar features, and affectionate assurances of love 
 touched the soul of the sensual and the selfish soldier, who wr>* 
 not wholly made of clay. 
 
DELIVER A NCR. 133 
 
 " Thank you, hoys thank yon, my good fellows. God bless 
 you ! I m really glad to see yon again, all of yon ; and to see 
 that the tories havn t quite eaten jon ?J1 : but, as for shaking 
 hands jnst now, that s impossible. We must do our work fiist 
 Keep at yours, like good fellows ; shovel in the kegs ; and you 
 shall all be rewarded. But now to business ; and first, Lance, 
 about the carriage, the widow and her party, and the rest of 
 these robbers. What is your report? What hare you seen ? 
 What heard ? Speak we have no time to lose !" 
 
 " Well, captain, there s nothing to report but what you see 
 for yourself. There s the lady, I reckon it s a woman, you 
 see, sitting bolt upright in the front seat of the carriage. At 
 least, it looks like a woman, by the dress ; but I hain t seen it 
 move once since I ve been watching it. I ve seen nobody, and 
 nothing else, though I ve kept a bright look out over all the 
 track between, and the boys have been scouting jest about here, 
 and within reach of my rifle. I didn t want them to risk them 
 selves by going too nigh to the carriage." 
 
 " You were right, particularly as you could see nothing stir 
 ring in that quarter. That s something singular. Our demon 
 stration should have caused Fordham and young Eveleigh to 
 show themselves, unless, indeed, they were hurt, or felt them 
 selves to be watched by enemies. Have you kept your eyes, 
 Lance, on that long grass around the carriage ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir, pretty much, but couldn t see so much as a sparrow 
 stirring anywhere. It s a dead calm, as far as I could see." 
 
 " Strange ! We ve chased two of these rascals. Here s a 
 third. Are there more of them 1 John and Pomp reported 
 half a dozen or more. They were probably mistaken. How 
 now, Pomp John?" 
 
 The two negroes disagreed ; but they were positive as to five 
 or six assailants on the ground. 
 
 " S pose you ask him, captain," said Lance, pointing to the 
 captive outlaw. 
 
 " To be sure right ! Hark ye, fellow, who are you. What s 
 yon? name ? And how many had you in your company ?" 
 
 The fellow glared up fiercely at the inquirer, but made no 
 answer. 
 
 " Sullen, eh ? Well, we will find a way to make you speak ! 
 
134 WOO i )CK API. 
 
 There s no use to waste words upon tins scoundrel. We mus,t 
 pit him to the hempen question ! A rope, with a swing-ing limb 
 at cne end and a rogue ffc the other, will probably find an an 
 swer quick enough, and sometimes even rises into eloquence. 
 The &hoit way, now, is the. best Mount you, Lance, and we ll 
 all three make a rush for the carriage. We can t be mousing 
 all day with fruitless conjectures. Here comes Tom, too, just 
 in season. We can trust him to keep watch over this rascal. 
 Here, Tom light, and take these pistols keep them within 
 six inches of this fellow s head ; and give him his physic, a full 
 dose from both bottles, if he offers to give you trouble, or if any 
 body comes to help him. Light, I say, you lazy rascal, and be 
 quick !" 
 
 " Ki ! Mass Porgy ! you talk as ef I hadn t a hundred poim 
 of pot and kettle on dis nigger t ighs [thighs] ! Gib em time, I 
 tell you ! Here, you boys ! You Pomp, and John, and Dick, 
 and Bob enty I know you all, you han some pot-black rascals! 
 You no see wha I want ? Help tak off some of dese pretic lars 
 wha I hab yer nough to bury any man, eben ef he bin name 
 Samson !" 
 
 The negroes eagerly went to Tom s assistance. 
 
 " Why, brudder Tom you is load mos like a mule," quoth 
 John almost pulling away the thigh of the cook in the endeavor 
 to withdraw a gridiron, without first remarking that it was well 
 strapped to the member. 
 
 " An you pulls to #wload dis mule, berry much as ef you was 
 an ass, brudder John! Dere you hab em now: you sec the 
 pen (depend) pon dat little strap and bucl3e !" 
 
 Tom was relieved after a while, and, now alight, was provided 
 with the pistols taken from the outlaw whom Millhouse had cut 
 down. He placed himself at the head of the captive, Norris. 
 
 "Now, buckrah," saict he to the ruffian, "jes you be easy and 
 cibil, whey you is, or I ll g e [give] you the benefit of dese yer 
 two barking puppies !" showing the twr pistols in ugly prox 
 imity to the outlaw s jaws as he spoke. .Pom was an old sol 
 dier ; cool and confident ; who stood ready at all times, to exe 
 cute his master s orders without the smallest scruple. H 
 always rose too, on an occasion like the present, in his sense of 
 what was due to his elevation 
 
DELIVEllAXCE. 135 
 
 "Niggers!" said lie to the clustering slaves, " you kin stan 
 hack dere, and not crowd too close pon de buckrah wha I got 
 to shoot, may-be !" 
 
 Captain Porgy, mounted, as we have seen, upon the horse of 
 the outlaw by whom his own had been shot, having seen that 
 his two comrades were quite ready, now gave the signal, which 
 was responded to by a tremendous shout from the throat of 
 Sergeant Millhouse. The worthy captain took the lead, and, 
 allowing a little interval between them, the three partisans 
 darted forward at a smart gallop, riding, as they had every 
 reason to apprehend, into something like a wolf-trap. The trap 
 had, indeed, been set, as we have sufficiently shown; but we 
 have also seen in what manner its teeth were drawn. Our 
 gallant partisans were unassailed by any foe, and encountered 
 no strange presence, until they were within thirty yards of the 
 carriage ; when the overseer, Fordham, sprang up from the 
 bushes in which he had so long been crouching, and cried out 
 his welcome to the strangers. 
 
 "Friends! friends!" he shouted, dropping his rifle to the 
 ground, and clapping his hands. " We re none but friends here, 
 now, I reckon, captain. God be praised for sending you jest 
 at the light moment !" 
 
 The troopers drew up suddenly. 
 
 " Who is that 1" demanded Porgy. 
 
 " Why, don t you remember me, Captain ? Fordham, you 
 know, that you used to see at Major Eveleigh s, and " 
 
 " Ah ! Fordham ; yes ! How are you, my good fellow, and 
 all 1 Are you all well ?" 
 
 " Yes, thank God, and mighty glad to see you, as you bring 
 us safety ! Glad to see you at any time, captain j but prt tici- 
 larlyjest now, when we didn t know whether we should ever 
 have to sup upon anything better than lead and cold steel agin ! 
 We ve had a mighty sharp scrimmaging here for more than three 
 hours, and been in such a stew as I don t want to be in ag in." 
 
 " Not like the stews of Tom s making then," quoth our cap 
 tain, solto voce ; " they are such as a man might swim in without 
 feeling too hot with the exercise, or getting beyond his depth at 
 any time ! Stew ! do you say, Mr. Fordham ! I trust I can 
 say well done to you !" 
 
136 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 Well, it s pretty well, then, I tell you ! I m tl inking, coib 
 side-ring all things, we made a pretty good out of it Master 
 Arthur Eveleigh and me ! But God be praised for bringing you 
 when lie did ; for I don t know how it would ha turned out in 
 ^.he /rnd. Even rf we could ha stood it out tell dark night, 
 ~lien, their greater number would have brought them down upon 
 us ; and on which side, there would be no telling. You ve saved 
 us, captain, I tell you; and thank you for it and bless Uo<i 
 tor it, and all other marcies." 
 
 By this time, they were joined by young Arthur Eveleigh, 
 who showed himself, rising out of the bushy fastnesses, as soon 
 as he heard Fordham cry aloud in tones of confidence and cheer. 
 He promptly came forward and joined the party, and was hur 
 riedly introduced by Fordham, to the captain of partisans, but 
 not before the worthy fellow had embraced the youth with such 
 a sense of joyous relief, as was natural to a heart so loyal 
 under the circumstances. He then brought the youth forward, 
 saying : 
 
 " This, Captain Porgy, is Master Arthur Eveleigh, son of the 
 widow Eveleigh, whom you remember. He s done mighty good 
 sarvice in this scrimmaging business. He ll be a man, I tell 
 you, ef ever there was one." 
 
 "Good!" answered Porgy, alighting and grasping the hand 
 of the blushing youth, with an encouraging frankness, " You ve 
 begun early, and well, Master Arthur ; and a good beginning is 
 always half the battle ! I m glad of it for your sake, and that 
 of your parents ! But, talking of your parents, reminds me of 
 your excellent and amiable mother, whom I claim as an old 
 friend. Let us go to her assistance. I trust that she s not hurt." 
 
 And the captain of partisans turned and proceeded toward 
 the carriage, accompanied by the others. 
 
 " I think not ; I hope not," answered the youth anxiously, 
 while hurrying forward ahead of the rest, his stride increasing 
 to a bound and run, as he advanced. The eyes of Porgy fol 
 lowed him. 
 
 " A fine, vigorous lad ; well made ; looks like his Bather in 
 form, his mother in face ; bating the eyes, which are not blue 
 and which look far less amiable. I should say the lad was a 
 hold, rash, high-spirited fellow. 
 
DELIVERANCE 137 
 
 44 He s all that, captain ! He ll fight, too, like the devil 
 Twa n t so easy to keep him back and quiet ; to keep him from 
 putting his head up as a mark ; but he ll soon I arn, with proper, 
 indication! It s surprising how well he could take the track 
 and keep it/ The work was to keep him down ; but he had 
 sense enough to see how twas needful ! We ve been watching 
 here jest covering the ground with our beads, for a good hour, 
 not daring to stir not knowing how soon we should hear the 
 crack of an inimy s rifle." 
 
 " How many of these rascals were there ?" demanded Porgy. 
 "We have one of them, a prisoner; one was cut down by 
 Sergeant Millhouso ; and another made his escape into the 
 swamp, half a mile or so below. That accounts for three of 
 them." 
 
 " There were six in all, at first, I reckon ; but it s not so cer 
 tain but there might have been more. Of these we killed one. 1 
 
 " There are then, at least, two yet to account for. They 
 must be about are probably not far oft*. But they will keep 
 snug and quiet for awhile. It s hardly likely that they will 
 attempt anything farther at present. But keep your rifles 
 primed, and your horses at hand. We must not -let ourselves 
 be surprised !" 
 
 These orders were given more in detail to Lance Frampton. 
 He and Sergeant Millhouse made themselves busy, and took 
 the necessary precautions. Meanwhile, Capt. Porgy proceeded 
 toward the carriage, having considerately delayed his own and 
 the movements of Fordham, in that direction, by saying : 
 
 " A moment or two, Mr. Fordham ! Let the young man re 
 lease his mother himself!" 
 
 The youth, meanwhile, had sprung with proper alacrity to 
 this grateful duty. The mother and son embraced with mutual 
 tears and thankfulness. The glad widow held the happy boy 
 apart from her, gazed fondly in his face, and then, even where 
 she istood, in the box of the coachman, sank down upon her 
 knees in silent prayers to Heaven. The boy instinctively sank 
 down beside her, and both yielded themselves, in the sight of 
 Heaven, to frank and fervent but silent prayer. 
 
138 WOODCRAFT 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 THE SOLDIER AND THE LADY 
 
 THE good sense, and good taste, of Captain Porgy, sufficed to 
 prevent him from interrupting such a scene. He stood apart 
 conferring with Fordham, seeming to see nothing at the carriage; 
 but his eye took in all the sweet picture of maternal love ; of 
 all the forms of love, perhaps, the most pure, the least selfish, 
 the longest lived ! At length, the voice of the widow was heard 
 calling our partisan. 
 
 " Captain Porgy will you not suffer me to thank you 1" 
 
 Our captain, as we know, was not one of the most sprightly of 
 living cavaliers. Agility, as he himself freely admitted, formed 
 no part of his physical virtues ; but he certainly made the most 
 astonishing efforts, at this summons, to appear agile ; and did 
 succeed, we allow, in reaching the carriage in a tolerably short 
 space of time, and without appearing too greatly breathed from 
 the exertion. As he drew nigh, the widow, supported by her 
 son, alighted from the box, and extended her hand to the grasp 
 of her deliverer. Conspicuous on each of her wrists was a dark 
 ring, the mark of the cords with which she had been tied by the 
 ruffians. 
 
 "How much ought I to thank you, Captain Porgy how 
 much do I owe you, sir ! See from what indignities you have 
 rescued me V 
 
 " Would I had been with you some hours sooner, my dear 
 madam," cried the captain, seizing her hand and carrying it, in 
 courtly fashion, to his lips. Those were days, be it remembered, 
 of more lavish ceremonial than ours ; and the act was held one 
 of mere grace, rather than of gallantry. At all events, it seemed 
 to occasion no emotion in the bosom of Mrs. Evcleigh, and les 
 sened, in no degree the warmth of her acknowledgments. 
 
 "That you have come in season for our safety to relieve 
 
THE SOLDIKL; AXI> THK LADY. 139 
 
 iny dear s ;;, and this brave man to whom I owe so much, is 
 quite enough to make me thankful to God, and for ever grateful 
 to you ! Ah ! sir. I have passed a terrible hour and more, i 
 How I bore up against my own terrors, thus fettered, and una 
 ble to act, or even to speak, without going mad, I know n<;( ! 
 But all is over now, I trust ! There is no more danger V 
 
 "I hope not I believe not, my dear Mrs. Eveleigh ; an*:, 
 now that it is over, perhaps I ought to congratulate you on what. 
 has taken place. It has had its good along with its evil. It II.-..M 
 brought out the manhood in your brave son, and shown the ad 
 mirable stuff which he has in him for future work. Mr. Ford- 
 ham has given me a glowing account of his conduit. I am 
 really sorry, for his sake, that our wars are ended. I should 
 like to take him into my keep as my ensign." 
 
 The tears again gathered into the mother s eyes, while the 
 boys cheeks became crimson. Some further conversation ensued 
 between the widow and the partisan on this subject, so grateful 
 to the mother, until the lad himself interposed, and in a whisper, 
 taking her hand, said 
 
 " No more, mother, if you please ! If Captain Porgy knew 
 all that I had done, he wouldn t be so ready to praise me, I as 
 sure yon." 
 
 The partisan half heard the words, and guessed the meaning 
 of the rest; and rejoined good naturedly and sensibly 
 
 " Ah ! my dear fellow, you are conscious of some mistakes, 
 perhjlps ; but that is only another proof in your favor. A fool 
 is never aware that he has made any blunders never! To be 
 conscious that you have done so, is the first proof of wisdom 
 the necessary process by which to avoid them in future. You 
 were too quick and rash ; too hasty ; and fancied you under 
 stood the whole game, when you were only taking the first les 
 sons in it. An error, doubtless ; but one, my dear boy, that 
 seems natural to our climate ; where one usually dates his man 
 hood from the moment when he instructs his father in what way 
 properly to break his eggs. You will soon get over all your 
 mortifications of this description too soon, perhaps." 
 
 But we do not propose to report the whole of the dialogue, as 
 it took place between the parties; a dialogue, such as can 
 readily be conjectured under the circumstances, and at the meet 
 
110 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 ing of old friends, after such a long interval of time, occupied by 
 war and its worst vicissitudes. Captain Porgy, himself, not 
 regardless of duty, soon brought the merely amiable in theii 
 conversation to a close; though it was, evidently, very grateful 
 to him. It seemed to restore him at once to the social sphere 
 from which lie had so long been an exile. He thus changed the 
 topic 
 
 " But we must reserve these matters, Mrs. Eveleigh, for a 
 moment of greater leisure. We must not forget our duties now. 
 The sun wanes, and you have yet to find your way home. We 
 have accounted for all these outlaws, but two ; and to do our 
 work thoroughly, we should give an account of tlic.m. Two 
 have been slain outright, one by your party, and another by 
 mine; one is even now our prisoner; and the fourth man we 
 have seen making his escape into the swamp, below, where we 
 can not now hope to hunt him up. There are still two others, 
 Koihewherc, lurking in the neighborhood, of whom we must 
 ascertain all that we can within the next two hours, or before 
 dark." 
 
 " I am somewhat bewildered," said the lady, " and have suf 
 fered so much from the sun in my eyes, and the cords about my 
 arms, that I may have allowed things to pass under my very 
 sight without being altogether conscious of the fact ; but, just 
 before the last skirmish of Mr. Fordham and my son, there 
 were two of them harbored very near the carriage ; one on that 
 side," pointing to the right, " whom I could not see after h first 
 proceeded in that quarter; while the other was hidden among 
 these myrtles just in front. Now, I ve never seen that last one 
 leave his position." 
 
 With a few bounds, as he heard these words, Lance Frampton 
 was at the indicated spot. He stooped then cried out 
 
 " He s here, sure enough ; stone-dead, with a bullet through 
 his head!" 
 
 He drew the body out of the bushes as he spoke. 
 
 " That was your bullet, Master Arthur," said Fordham. 
 
 "And a cJiance bullet too," replied the ingenuous youth. "1 
 felt so much ashamed at having fired, thinking that I had thrown 
 the shot away ! for I felt that I had taken no aim at all !" 
 
 "Ah !" said Porgy, "you know not how wonderfully the hand 
 
THE SOLON-:!? ,\.\n THK LKDY. 141 
 
 Seconds the eye, and both the will, when there is no time left 
 for preparation. The best shots are frequently those which are 
 taken when we are so conscious of a pilose, that we are wholly 
 unconscious of an aim. If the will is right, the hand and eye 
 obey, as implicitly as the slave of an Eastern despot !" 
 
 "I remember the moment that you shot, rny son!" said the 
 fridow, with a shudder of horror, as the body was drawn out of 
 the bushes. " He rose out of that very clamp of grass and 
 myrtle ; swore, and shook his fist at me, and made some horri 
 ble threats. It was because I had called out to warn Mr. Ford- 
 ham, whom I had seen approaching , where they were in con 
 cealment, I only saw Tordham ; but I concluded you were 
 somewhere with him, and I trembled at the cunning ambush 
 which they had set. .Tt was all over in a moment. It seemed 
 as if I heard the outlaw and the shot all in the very instant 
 when I was speaking." 
 
 " No doubt," answered Porgy. " There s now only one for 
 whom we can not account, and of him we may be sure of this 
 that he will not remain long in a neighborhood the climate of 
 which has been so unfriendly to the health of his people. At all 
 events, -Mrs. Eveleigli, it would be only looking through the 
 haystack for the cambric needle, to attempt to hunt him up, at 
 this late hour, and on the edges of this swamp ! And yet"- 
 looking round upon the dense thickets which indicated the 
 swamp fortresses "poor as I am, I would give the last hun 
 dred guineas for a couple of good Scotch blood-hounds, or Span 
 ish, for a single hour! But the wish is idle. There are, never 
 theless, some things within our power, Mrs. Eveleigli, and the 
 first is to get you homeward with all despatch. We rnurt use 
 promptly all the daylight that is left us : and, with all our 
 efforts, it will be a little in the night before you can possibly get 
 home. Still, there can be no danger UOAV ! Neither of the two 
 rogues whom we shall leave running, will be so hardy as to 
 attempt anything new in this quarter ; and you will have quite 
 a sufficient escort in your son and Mr. Fordham. They have 
 already managed successfully a force of six assailants ; they will 
 have no difficulty in managing a couple. But even these two, it 
 is likely, do not hunt together. The one we drove into the 
 , took its shelter some two miles belcw. The other 
 
142 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 scoundrel, as last reported, had his perch rather above than 
 below. Be it as it may, you must push 011 for home, before 
 night, under your escort. You need not fear these ruffians, who, 
 even if they had nothing to apprehend from our superior force, 
 bringing up the wagon and the rear as we propose to do, would 
 never attempt your carriage now, guarded by your son and 
 Fordham. Leave me to secure your property, and guard your 
 negroes home. The more grateful duty would be to guard 
 yourself, but the more arduous is here. Fordham will now be 
 on his guard against surprise ; and, to render you quite safe and 
 sure, I will confide a few pistols to some of your most courageous 
 negroes your fellow Sylvester, for one. These will suffice. 
 With my party I will remain, and see to the repair and reload 
 ing of your wagon, the horses of which, I perceive, my people 
 have already recaptured. It shall follow you as soon as ready. 
 But, the sooner you start the better. You have hardly an hour 
 of sunlight left, and the rogue sees better in the night than the 
 honest man, as the owl sees better than the chicken." 
 
 The widow was quite sensible of this good advice, and pre 
 pared for its adoption. Her servants rapidly go* her carriage 
 ready, the traces, where they had been cut, being supplied witn 
 plough-lines. The appearance of his own negroes assisting in 
 this duty, reminded our captain of the active agency of the wid 
 ow, in recovering them for him from the British hulks a cir 
 cumstance of which she had entirely foreborne to speak. 
 
 " I, too, have my thanks, my dear Mrs. Eveleigh, since, as I 
 learn, but for your keen eye, and fearless spirit, my negroes 
 would now be on their way to the British West Indies. But I 
 must take a less hurried moment for making my acknowledg 
 ments." 
 
 "Don t speak of it, my dear captain; I did only as a neigh 
 bor should have done. But, of course, you will accompany m\ 
 people to my house. Your own will scarcely give you a proper 
 shelter just now." 
 
 "No, thank you a thousand times, but I have some of my old 
 ^nd young soldiers with me " 
 
 ;< I have room for all," said the hospitable widow. 
 
 " I thank you again ; but I must see to these negroes ; and * 
 
 The captain paused. Tl e widow fam-:e;l there was some Ki 
 
THE SOLftlEU AN T J) Til!: LADY. 143 
 
 tie embarrassment in his manner. She fancied there was a slight 
 (lushing through all the bronze on his cheeks. Mrs. Eveleigb 
 was a woman of good sense and good feeling. Such a person 
 always receives an apology for what it is worth ; at least she 
 never disputes it, driving the apologist to the wall, and exposing 
 to himself the poverty of his excuses. She Lchaved, according 
 ly, in the right manner. She foreltore annoying him, the m<>- 
 nent she discovered him resolved to excuse himself. She took 
 for granted that he had his reasons, proper enough for himself, 
 which it might not be proper for him to unfold. This was 
 enough. 
 
 "As you please, captain. Remember, from this moment, 1 
 take for granted that you will feel yourself always welcome, and 
 at home, at my house. Your old and young soldiers will share 
 this welcome all whom you command. Pray believe, in addi 
 tion, that I shall desire to see you at an early moment. I have 
 much to hear from you, and something to communicate. Why 
 not ride over and dine with me to-morrow, or the day after, and 
 brincr your friends with you?" 
 
 " And very much delighted, indeed, to do so, Mrs. Eveleigb, 
 if it be possible. At all events, I shall let you know in due sea 
 son, if I shall not be able to come to-moiiow. Believe me, T 
 bave not been living so long in camp as to have quite lost my 
 relish for a good dinner." 
 
 " Visit her now," quoth Porgy, turning away to. see after the 
 coach and wagon, "with such a beard mixed grey and brown, 
 salt and pepper and in this travelling gear a break under 
 t v ? arm, a rent in " 
 
 And be paused as if at some unmentionable difficulty then 
 proceeded 
 
 " No ! no ! One puts on his best favors and front, when ho 
 goes to court, even in a republic. This grizzlly beard !" 
 
 Tlere he stroked his chin reproachfully literally took himself 
 by the beard and added - 
 
 "Who the devil could have anticipated such an adventure ! - 
 That 1 should have put away my best things in my valise !" 
 
 He was brought to think of other matters by the approach of 
 his lieutenant. Meanwhile, all were busy. To gather the n-- 
 groes and horses together, repair the harness, and set the coacb 
 
144 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 man once more upon his box, was a task of no great labor with 
 So many hands. Fortunately, the. outlaws had left behind them 
 an abundance of plough-line, and there was a bolt of rope in the 
 wagon. The harness was quickly put in strong travelling order, 
 and all ready for a start in a much shorter period of time than 
 nad been anticipated. The widow, accompanied by her son, 
 Fordham and the servant girl, bade Porgy and his followers ;i 
 friendly, farewell ; repeating her thanks to all, and giving sepa 
 rate and warm invitations to each to visit her; which all parties 
 promised. When they were fairly out of sight of the troopers, 
 she cnlle 1 tbe overseer to the side of the coach. 
 
 " Mr. Fordham, have you been lately to Captain Porgy s 
 place ?" 
 
 " Not later than a month ago, ma am, or thereabouts. I pass 
 it constantly, you know." 
 
 " It is all destitute, I think ; almost in ruins ?" 
 
 " The house is good, ma am, wants a little repairing ; but 
 there s not a stick of fence, and " 
 
 "Ah ! that s not what I mean ! Do you suppose he has any 
 provisions there 1 ?" 
 
 " Not. the feather of a chicken, ma am not the hair of a hog ! 
 How should he ? The niggers eat him out before tbe tories 
 took em off. They left nothing. There may be a few cattle 
 in the swamps, and perhaps hogs ; but it s worth more than they d 
 bring to look em up." 
 
 " How then is bs to feed all these people ?" 
 
 " God knows, ma am ; it s a wonder to me." 
 
 " Mr. Fordham. we must take care of him and them for the 
 present. Men who have so long served, and helped to save, the 
 country, and who have so lately served and saved us, must net 
 be suffered to want. I ll tell you what you must do." 
 
 " To be sure, ma am." 
 
 " When we reach his place, we shall be so nigh our own thai 
 there can scarce be any further danger from these outlaws. 
 You will, accordingly, stop at Captain Porgy s, and stop the 
 wagon there also, when it arrives. Knock open the sugar bar 
 rel, and leave him a fourth of it ; give him a like proportion out 
 of the coffee sack. There are, I think, four boxes of candles, 
 leave him one. Put, out for him, also, a dozen of the blankets. 
 
JUDICIAL DIGNITY IX TfliC FOUEST. 141) 
 
 and if you can think of any other matters, that may be useful 
 fro:n among our stores, leave him a like supply. When T get 
 home, I will send him some meal and bacon. Oh ! don t forget 
 to leave him one of the jugs of Jamaica. These soldiers are all 
 fond of spirits, you know." 
 
 Porgy would have retorted How else should they have 
 spirit ? 
 
 The plethoric old soldier little dreamed, at that moment, what 
 the chanties of the amiable widow had decreed for his creature 
 comfort. As little did she conjecture the sort of business which, 
 at the same time, occupied his hands. Let us return to him 
 suul note the progress of events. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV, 
 
 JUDICIAL DIGNITY IN THE FOREST. 
 
 OUR captain of partisans would have gladly undertaken the 
 escort of the widow, had circumstances in Avhich the condition 
 of his travelling costume must be included allowed. But he 
 felt, as leader of the party, so suddenly engaged in such an 
 adventure as that which followed his encounter with the outlaws, 
 that a serious further duty had devolved upon him ; and, how 
 ever selfish or luxurious his character might be, it was seldom 
 that he permitted his tastes, or his love of ease and enjoyment, 
 to thwart the performances to which he was professionally bound. 
 He was a soldier, not less than a bon vivant and gentleman 
 True, he had been regularly dismissed from duty. He was no 
 longer an officer in command. There was no longer an army 
 But he had character. He was sure of his own honesty. HP 
 felt, and understood, the lawlessness which prevailed throughout 
 the country ; and, in the deficiency of courts and sheriffs, bo 
 resolved that he was still a captain of militia, and that each 
 militia officer was, ad interim, in the commission of the peace. 
 f~ The old idea of regulation was as much the fashion through 
 out the country as ever. It was now as much the necessity of 
 
146 \Vi()DCRAFT. 
 
 the region, as it Lad been in the early stages of society when 
 the practice originated. The woods were filled with t utlawi 
 and offenders 1 and, to await the slow processes of the courts of 
 law, at such a period, and in a country so sparsely settled, wa 
 to sacrifice all the securities of the better sort of people. So 
 ciety, in such cases, always resorts to the necessary means foi 
 sustaining law ; and the morals of law always will, and should, 
 sustain what are the obvious necessities of society. In this you 
 have the full justification of the code of regulation ; a code 
 which is, no doubt, sometimes subject to abuse, as is the case 
 with law itself, but which is rarely allowed to exist in practice 
 among people of Anglo-Norman origin a day longer than is 
 absolutely essential to the common weal. Captain Porgy sim 
 ply fulfilled the conditions of this code, when lie resolved on 
 subjecting the captive outlaw to the tender mercies of an extem 
 pore court of justice, all the members of which had been trained 
 in a severe military school, the rules of which recognised no 
 limits to its own powers, and usually threw upon the accused 
 tbo burden of proof, in establishing his own innocence. 
 
 The wagon of Mrs. Eveleigh, reloaded, and despatched upon 
 its way, under an escort composed wholly of the slaves of the 
 widow several of whom, including John Sylvester, had been 
 armed with the view to its defence, should either of the two 
 outlaws in the woods be prepared and in the humor to attempt 
 further mischief, which was held to be scarcely possible our 
 captain established himself under a goodly oak, planted himself 
 comfortably upon a heap of dry leaves at its roots, and instructed 
 Sergeant Millhouse to bring the offending outlaw before him. 
 
 This order was promptly obeyed. His coat off, his arms 
 bound behind him, the outlaw, Norris, was pushed forward by 
 Millhouse, his one hand diligently applying the point of his 
 sword to the fellow s haunches, whenever he halted or seemed 
 iinnecessarily reluctant. Norris was sullen and savage both, 
 looked the tiger, and spoke as snappishly as a lean cur over a 
 beggarly bone, with two or three other companion curs, as lean 
 as himself, watching, close at hand, for the opportunity to dart 
 in and boar ;;v ay the prize. The fellow s case was desperate, 
 and he knew it ! He had been taken flagrante delicto ; and he 
 bad sufficient experience of law, when administered by a mili- 
 
JUDICIAL DIGNITY IN THE FOREST. 141 
 
 tary man, to know that it was usually a .natter singularly de 
 cisive and summary in all its processes. He was a Lardy ruffian ; 
 and, with a gloomy sense of the danger that awaited him, his 
 habitual mood now assumed the appearance of insolence and 
 audacity. 
 
 But he was in the hands of those who had been accustomed 
 to deal with all sorts of offenders. Porgy awaited his approach 
 with rare patience of demeanor. His pistols, taken from his 
 holsters, lay before him. His sword, unbelted but sheathed 
 crossed his lap.. We are constrained to state the further fact, 
 that our captain of partisans, in order to the more easy adminis 
 tration of justice, had unbuttoned coat, vest, and small-clothes, as 
 far as he possibly could without actually discarding them ; and 
 his appearance was, accordingly, significant of a singular loose 
 ness of habit, which, we are pleased to say, did not by any 
 means represent his usual moral character. Let us add, also, 
 that the act which gave him this peculiar laxity in dress, was 
 studiously forborne until the carriage of the fair widow was 
 quite ou j of sight. Captain Porgy was one of that good old 
 school, which, where ladies and gentlemen were concerned, was 
 always carefully tender of the proprieties. The school is some 
 what out of fashion now, and is supposed to need its apologies ; 
 but we have not space enough for them in this place. 
 
 Lance Frampton stood a little on one side of the judge ; but 
 the latter, after the prisoner had been brought up, bade him be 
 seated as one of the court. Porgy was heedful of all details. 
 
 " You, sergeant," said he to Millhouse, " acting as sheriff, will 
 be required to stand. A certain degree of vigilance is necessary 
 always, even when the court feels itself perfectly secure. En 
 sign," to Lance, " take your seat more to the left ; let the tree 
 be a little between us where you are now, we might both be 
 ranged with a single rifle-shot ; a fact which might tempt the 
 rascal, yet in the woods, to let drive at us." 
 
 As this was spoken, the prisoner began to whistle. The 
 sounds were suddenly silenced by a smart blow from the stump 
 f Sergeant Millhouse s game hand, who well understood the 
 object of the whistle. 
 
 " Vv r ait with your music till it s called for my lark," quoth 
 the vigilant sergeant. 
 
148 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 The ruffian twitched violently at the cords l>y which his 
 wrists were fastened, evidently desirous of resenting the indig 
 nity ; and, failing in this, he plunged his head incontinently into 
 the breast of the assailant, with bull-like ferocity. He was not 
 tall enough to address his battering-ram at the face of the ser 
 geant, or he might have done mischief to the mazzard of the 
 veteran. The latter was taken by surprise, an 1 almost lost his 
 feet, as well as his breath, for a moment ; but his huge and well 
 buttressed form was staggered only, not overthrown ; and, recov 
 ering himself, he dropped his sword, and planted a settler in the 
 nostrils of the outlaw, which laid him out like a log, the blood 
 spurting, in a big stream, from the proboscis of the victim. 
 
 " Well delivered," quoth Porgy ; " he will hardly try his horns 
 upon you a second time, Mr. Sheriff. Help him to rise, boys." 
 This was said to the negroes who hung around, quite delighted 
 with the solemnity of the scene, and the action which had begun 
 with so much spirit, and which promised to be so enlivening. 
 Pomp, the fiddler, absolutely lost his propriety so far as to wave 
 his fiddle aloft, while executing a sort of wild-colt movement 
 upon his pins a proceeding which was quickly arrested by an 
 order of his master, to " box that fellow up till he s wanted." 
 Pomp sank back demurely enough, and took especial care, 
 during the rest of the scene, to attract no especial attention to 
 himself: Tom, the cook, giving him first a gentle admonition, by 
 a sharp sudden gripe about his weasand. This little episode 
 occupied but a few moments. The outlaw Norris, half-stunned, 
 was raised once more to his feet, the blood still dripping from his 
 nostrils. Captain Porgy surveyed him very much as the Bow- 
 street magistrate is said to examine the visages of old offenders, 
 or those whom he thinks so ; but he did not fall into the usual 
 habit of that officer, of finding the offender always ill-looking. 
 On the contrary, he had a different theory in such matters. 
 [ " But that you have spoiled his nose for a time," quoth Porgy, 
 " the offender would be a good-looking fellow even handsome, 
 perhaps, stripped of his brush, and with a clean shirt on. Is it 
 not curious that these rogues should be so commonly handsome I 
 I don t remember one whom we have had to hang, who wouldn t 
 be accounted quite a pretty fellow among the women ! There 
 was that fellow, Bryce, whom we left swinging at Four Holes: In 1 . 
 
JUDICIAL DKiXITV IN Till-: FOREST. 149 
 
 was a fine-looking fellow, Lance. And old Ecliars, the Dutch 
 man, whom we dressed in tar and feathers at Monk s Corner, for 
 stealing cattle, he was a beauty, though nearly sixty years of 
 age. You see, my friend, that beauty is a snare. It makes 
 many a poor fellow a rogue. I suppose, because it first makes 
 him a fool. It turns his head ; and when the head s turned, a 
 fellow ceases to be a man, and goes to the devil like a beast. 
 It is the head that keeps a man in position. Let him lose that 
 balance, and he staggers, from right to left, with a sort of moral 
 drunkenness. Talking of drunkenness, reminds me that a good 
 sup of Jamaica would not be amiss after that little run we had, 
 Sergeant Millhouse ; but" with a sigh "we must now think 
 of other matters ! A handsome rascal, indeed ! but" addres 
 sing the prisoner abruptly " well, my good fellow, how do you 
 call yourself?" 
 
 Let us leave this examination for a moment, in order that all 
 the parties to the scene should be properly shown up, each in 
 his exact position, to the eye of the reader. Thus far, the whole 
 progress of the affair had been witnessed, though imperfectly, 
 at the distance of two or three hundred yards, more or less, by 
 the out-lying squatter, Bostwick. Perfectly familiar with the 
 ground and region, he had regidated his own course and move 
 ments entirely by those of the pany which he no longer dared 
 to assail. By crawling and creeping, crouching and winding 
 by stealthy movements, like those of the wild-cat and fox by 
 a sinuous progress like that of the serpent -he had wound his 
 way from point to point, wherever he fancied that a good place 
 could be had for surveying the proceedings of his enemies. In 
 this progress he omitted no precaution, and none suspected how 
 closely they were watched. It was the conviction of Porgy and 
 the rest that the outlaws were completely dispersed ; and that, 
 terrified by the execution done among them the death of no 
 less than three of their number, and the captivity of a fourth 
 the two, escaping, had fled incontinently from the dangerous 
 neighborhood. 
 
 But Bostwick had several reasons for lingering upon the 
 ground, even after the chances of profit had wholly disappeared. 
 He had a fellow-feeling for his captive comrade ; and, as he had 
 frequently done before, was prepared to follow the footsteps of 
 
150 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 his captors, in eager expectation of the moment when their vigi 
 lance would so relax as to enable him to effect his rescue, even 
 at some hazard to himself. He was thus far faithful to the 
 bond of brotherhood, which is said to be sacred even among 
 thieves. He was prepared, as we shall see, for other necessi 
 ties. He was not long permitted to remain in doubt as to the, 
 purposes of Captain Porgy and his associates ; these, indeed, he 
 readily divined. He naturally conjectured that the .policy of 
 the captors would prompt them to ascertain from the prisoner 
 all- the facts of the expedition the parties by whom it was set 
 on foot the persons actually engaged in it, and the motives by 
 which it was prompted. All the proceedings, as already de 
 scribed, confirmed him in his conjectures ; and his interest and 
 anxiety continued to increase, as he beheld the deliberation with 
 which the party commenced the affair. He had got as near to 
 the spot as he well dared, from that quarter of the woods which 
 afforded him concealment, relying not less on the depth of cover 
 which he occupied than upon the facility with which, in the 
 event of danger, he could glide unseen into the recesses of the 
 adjacent swamp. 
 
 Here he beheld the progress of affairs ; saw Porgy let himself 
 down deliberately at the base of the oak ; beheld the prisoner 
 brought up ; heard the beginning of his whistle, and saw the 
 summary manner in which he had been silenced by the game- 
 hand of Sergeant Millhouse. The fierce assault of Norris, by 
 which he had resented the blow, and the severe punishment 
 which he had received in consequence, added to his excitement ; 
 and, but for the madness of such an act, he would have darted 
 out to the succor of his comrade. He forebore ; but it was with 
 a feverish vexation, which kept him singularly fidgetty and 
 restless. Not a syllable could he distinguish of what was said 
 by either of the parties ; but he could very well conjecture what 
 was likely to be said. His disquiet greatly increased in conse 
 quence of his inability to hear. His interest was by no menus 
 an unselfish one. He knew that Norris was a stubborn scoun 
 drel, hardened in sin. callous by repeated infamies ; and one 
 whom frequent hair-breadth escapes had rendered tenacious of 
 his secret, and more than commonly confident of his goo! luck 
 in escape. But the squatter dreaded still, lest temptation and 
 
JUDICIAL DIGNITY IN THE FOREST. 151 
 
 /ear combined should finally get the better of his hardihood, and 
 prompt those revelations which must be fatal to his own safety. 
 Could he have heard the proceedings, he would have been more 
 at ease, even though these should only tend to confirm his ap 
 prehensions. 
 
 With a mood that became momently more and more despe 
 rate from the very continuance of his doubts, Bostwick began, 
 at length, to finger the lock of his rifle, scarcely conscious that 
 he Avas doing so. He could scarcely resist the impulse Avhich 
 prompted him to send a bullet through the provoking abdoiuen 
 of the captain of partisans, now rendered doubly offensive to the 
 eye by the removal of the usual restraints of button, belt and 
 buckle. At another moment his thought would be to single out, 
 RS a victim, the tall, erect, and raw-boned figure of the sergeant, 
 acting as sheriff in the proceedings. Could he have got the 
 three th% captain, ensign, and sergeant in a range, or even 
 two of them, he had never resisted the temptation. He had, 
 under these exciting tendencies, continued to crawl and creep 
 up within a hundred and thirty yards of the scene of trial, and 
 at such a distance, with a rest, he had the most perfect faith in 
 his own skill to make his mark, and the capacity of his rifle to 
 speed the bullet home. 
 
 The disposition grew in his mind to adopt some such despe 
 rate course of action. He looked about him, accordingly, with 
 regard to the means left him for escape, should he resolve to 
 tire. This examination of the spot which he occupied, led him 
 instantly to change it a proceeding which involved, necessa 
 rily, some little loss of time. But he moved briskly, as well as 
 stealthily, and at length found himself in a more satisfactory 
 place of concealment and ambush, upon the edge of the swamp, 
 where he was sheltered partly by the dense thicket of gall- 
 bushes, of which we have already given some idea. Here, at 
 his back, were all the facilities for flight, by a sinuous progress, 
 and under cover all the way. Here ran a mighty cypress, half- 
 buried in water, hidden from view by a wilderness of bushes, 
 growing upon the tussocky ridge on the edge of which it had 
 fallen. Farther on, a clump of bays, or dwarf-laurel, interposed 
 to receive him, Beyond was a tract of the gall and hurrah- 
 bushes, matted by vines, which seemed to enmesh their entire 
 
152 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 tops; beyond, the places of refuge spread away interminably 
 forming, even in daylight, an almost perfect shelter ; but at 
 nightfall, a questionless place of security. The region, which 
 was called " Bear Castle" by the neighborhood, was one which 
 he well knew. It yielded him, comparatively speaking, a per 
 fectly safe mode of retreat from the point where he established 
 himself, in the event of any necessity occurring for sudden 
 flight. Here he found himself in a place altogether to his li 
 king ; one in which he might contrive to obtain a knowledge of 
 what was going on among the partisans ; overlook their pro 
 ceedings, and interpose, if necessary, at the proper moment ; 
 yet one which he could leave at a short notice, and without 
 embarrassment, for the deeper recesses of the swamp thicket. 
 
 " And now," said he to himself, " Dick Norris, it s jist as hell 
 and you chooses ! Ef you re the man to hold out, I m the man 
 to help you ! You ve been in as tight a fix afore no^, and you 
 know that I stuck by you then ! Set your teeth hard, Dick, 
 and I reckon we can scrape you through !" 
 
 This was all said in a whisper, though as if the person spoken 
 to could hear. Bostwick now appeared more at his ease, was 
 cooler and more composed ; and, satisfied to have gained the 
 required place of watch and safety, not much over a hundred 
 yards from the place of trial, rirle in grasp, and couleau de 
 ckasse loosened in his belt, crouching beside a pine which grew 
 upon a bank somewhat raised above the general level, before 
 wliicli stretched a little forest of gall-bushes and young myrtle, 
 he peered keenly through the vistas of the wood, not losing a 
 single movement among those he watched, while his comrade 
 was undergoing " The Question." 
 
RAPID PROCESSES OK EXTEMPOIIE LAW. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 RAPID PROCESSES OF EXTEMPORE LAW. 
 
 " THE Question," verily, in the sense usually given to the 
 phrase in the times which the silly world usually calls, " good 
 old times," when state tyranny, and the Spanish Inquisition 
 were in full blast, to use a vulgar idiom, but a very appro 
 priate figure did the trial of Norris, by our military court, 
 promise in reality to be. Bostwick well knew the usual practice 
 on all such occasions. He had some personal experience of 
 " the question" himself. He had, as we had gathered from his 
 words, been more than once instrumental in rescuing his com 
 rade from its operation. He did by no means despair, accord 
 ingly ; but kept himself in reserve for the chapter of accidents. 
 
 Our captain of partisans very well understood that one of the 
 outlaws might be lurking about, and looking on ; but he little 
 dreamed how nigh, or with what purposes in his mind. He was 
 proceeding with singular calmness in the trial, but with a solem 
 nity of manner fully proper to the enormous offence of the pris 
 oner. We have heard the inquiry with which he commenced 
 the examination of Norrfs. It met with no answer. The fellow 
 sullenly stood up, though with half-shut eyes, through which 
 the latent ferocity could be seen still to flash out brightly, and 
 showing that the devil was by no means subdued, though bruised 
 sorely, and in tight bonds. 
 
 " Hark ye, fellow," said Porgy, repeating the question, " do 
 you hear 1 by what name are you known among your kindred 1 
 who are you? and what has prompted you to the commis 
 sion of this outlawry? Be civi] now your safety depends 
 somewhat upon your fully unburthening your conscience of all 
 its secrets. Give an account of yourself to the court." 
 
 "Court! I don t see any court!" responded the prisoner, 
 with a mixed air of contempt and defiance. 
 
 "Ah! you don t, eh! Well, but what if it makes youjeel 
 7* 
 
154 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 it ? It strikes me there s something in that ! Think better of 
 it, my poor fellow, and answer the court with a decent sense of 
 its power, if not of its authority." 
 
 " I ll answer when it suits me ! Time enough, when I m 
 rally before a court. You re none, I reckon. You re no more 
 a jedge than I am." 
 
 "I m sorry you think so,* my good fellow," said Porgy, 
 mildly : " for your own sake, you d better come to the conclusion 
 that we are a court, having the power of life and deatli ; and 
 prepare your defence accordingly. We give you a fair chance 
 for your life. Tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but 
 the truth, and you don t know what good it will do you if not 
 in this world, at all events in the next. Confess who sejt you on 
 this expedition who were your associates where do they 
 harbor what are the names of those who survive? Turn 
 state s evidence as fast as you can, if you would be treated with 
 indulgence." 
 
 " I don t see what you can do with me, but carry me to prison. 
 There s no army ! Don t I know that the army is broken up, 
 and all the British gone. And there s no courts yd ; and if 
 there was courts, you, I reckon, aint no Jcdge, and these nig 
 gers aint no jury ! You kin only carry me to jail. That s the 
 worst that you kin do ; and I ain t afeered of any jail I ever 
 seed yit!" 
 
 And he chuckled, with the feeling of one who had been par 
 ticularly smart, if not severe. 
 
 " You grieve me, my interesting fellow, by your imperfect 
 knowledge of the law ! I am, at this moment, both judge and 
 jury ; and my excellent friend, on the right, is my sheriff, and 
 the executioner of my decrees ! These sons of Ethiopia are all 
 good men and true, having an abiding sense of authority and 
 justice. You will find them fully capable of understanding all 
 Uie facts in your case ; and I feel myself equally able to ex 
 pound to them the law upon it. As for the army, my friend, 
 that is never broken up, so long as there are criminals, like your 
 self, to be broken in. The good citizens of a country must 
 always constitute a standing army for the purposes of public 
 justice and public security. Answer, therefore, as civilly and 
 fully as possible, the questions I shall put to you, if you would 
 
RAPID PROCESSES OF EXTEMPORE LAW. I5o 
 
 secure for yourself the least indulgence. What may be yonr 
 name ?" 
 
 " I sha n t tell you !" was the insolent reply, 
 
 " Well, perhaps that is not necessary. It is not necessary 
 that we should know a man s name in order to hang him. In 
 reporting our proceedings we shall, doubtless, find a name for 
 you. For the present, we will consider you one John, or Tom, 
 or Peter Nemo. Remember, Sergeant Millhouse, and you Pomp/ 
 and you, boys, generally, that the prisoner is called Peter Nemo. 
 alias John Nemo, alias Nebuchadnessar. Fish, alias " 
 
 " I don t answer to any such names !" 
 
 " Silence gives consent ! You don t answer to any name, nor, 
 it would seem, to any thing ! Don t deceive yourself, my plea 
 sing prisoner. I don t care a straw whether you answer or not. 
 That s just as you please. But we must go through certain 
 forms, for your own sake ; and, for the same reason simply to 
 give you every chance I must put some other questions to 
 you. I don t want you to answer, if you don t think proper to 
 do so. Who were your confederates, your allies, your associates, 
 in this highway robbery ?" 
 
 " There s no highway robbery." 
 
 " Sorry that we must differ, my friend, in this matter. You 
 are unfortunate that we found you in the act in the full po. - 
 session of the plunder. I am indulgent to you. I will repeat 
 the question who were your associates in the interesting enter 
 prise in which I found you engaged?" 
 
 " Nobody ! Ask me no questions. I sha n t answer. Take 
 me to jail, if you choose." 
 
 " Jail, my friend ! Impossible ! I don t approve of imprison 
 ment. It degrades a freeman into the condition of a wild beast. 
 I should think a man of your spirit would prefer death, a thou 
 sand times, to incarceration within stone walls, and iron brace 
 lets. No ! no ! .my friend, we will not punish you so cruelly. 
 Your tortures, when your trial is over, shall be short. Who was 
 the ringleader in this expedition ]" 
 
 "Oh! bed d! Don t bother me with your axings. .1 
 
 ain t guine to answer nothing !" 
 
 "You are irreverent, my poor fellow; you don t know the 
 mischief you may do yourself! Once more, let me know how 
 
166 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 many persons, and who, were concerned in this enterprise, which 
 you will not allow was highway robbery. Who first set you 
 upon it ; who was your leader : and what was your scheme 
 throughout? Make a clean breast of it, my good fellpw, that 
 you may have well done said to you for once in your life." 
 
 "Ax away, tell you re tired. You gtt no answer from me, 
 old Porpoise !" 
 
 The poor, d d fool !" quoth Millhouse, in* a whisper to 
 
 Lance. Every word he says is a-hitching him tighter and 
 tighter !" 
 
 " That has a salt-water sound !" was the remark of Porgy, 
 quietly made, but there was a sudden redness about the cheek 
 and gills, as he spoke, that showed him beginning to be chafed 
 fit the outlaw s insolence. He restrained every ebullition of 
 temper, however, in recognition of what he held to be the sol 
 emn unimpassioned character of his present duty ; and continued 
 to put his questions, in various shapes, until he had exhausted 
 all the proper subjects of inquiry, ,and afforded the prisoner the 
 fullest opportunity to reveal all that he knew. This done, and 
 the answers being all equally unsatisfactory and insolent, our 
 captain of partisans turned to Sergeant Millhouse. 
 
 " Mr. Sheriff, we have given our prisoner every chance ; but 
 he. is wedded to his idols and vanities he rejects every op 
 portunity of mercy ! There is a proverb, Mr. Sheriff, upon 
 which we, in the army, are always prompt to act, and the ex 
 pediency of which our experience has usually confirmed 
 4 The bird that can sing, and won t sing Eh ! you remember, 
 sergeant-?" 
 ^- " Must be made to swing /" 
 
 "Exactly!" 
 
 " I ve been a-thinking, cappin, for a long time, that you was 
 a most forgitting our army practice. I ve been a-wanting to 
 clap a stopper on the fellow s muzzle ever sence you begun to 
 ax him the questions." 
 
 " Ah ! but a muzzle was not the thing exactly. To make him 
 unmuzzle, was my object. Well, he would not do so to please 
 us, we must now persuade him to do so to please himself! Give 
 him a stretch, Sheriff! Appoint a couple of thp Ethiopians, 
 your deputies for the occasion, while you act as Provost Marshall 
 
RAPID PROCESSES OF EXTEMPORE LAW. 157 
 
 and" looking about and above him "there is a good large 
 hickory upon the left which seems to have stretched out its arms 
 for the very purpose the moment it was wanted. Let him be 
 persuaded to that hickory !" 
 
 Millhouse seemed to have provided himself with due refer 
 ence to the exigency. His single remaining hand produced a 
 coil of slender rope from behind him. A running noose was 
 found in it already ; and, calling Pompey from the crowd, the 
 fiddler was made to take the rope over his shoulder, and ascend 
 the hickory. He stood on one of its outstretching boughs, and, 
 having dropped the cord across the bough, sat quietly awaiting 
 the prisoner. 
 
 " You see !" said Porgy to Norris. 
 
 The fellow refused to look up, but sat doggedly, with his 
 head stuck on one side, as if with the most rigid determination. 
 
 " You hear !" continued Porgy. " Be warned, my poor fellow, 
 and make a free confession. There is no good reason why your 
 tongue should make your throat suffer. Speak freely, and don t 
 make a figure of yourself." 
 
 No answer ! 
 
 " Let him be persuaded to speak, Mr. Sheriff," said Porgy, 
 in accents as mild as those of Ali Pacha in his most patriarchal 
 moments. In an instant, and at a sign from Millhouse, a couple 
 of the negroes seized upon the prisoner, and in their stalwart 
 arms, it required but a moment to conduct him to the desig 
 nated tree. Another moment sufficed to slip the noose about his 
 neck ; this done, the negroes took hold of the rope with alacrity, 
 and, thus in readiness, they looked to the captain for his further 
 orders. 
 
 " You feel ?" said Porgy to the outlaw. 
 
 No answer. 
 
 " My friend," continued the captain of partisans, " I would 
 not rufHe a single feather in the wing of so innocent a bird as 
 yourself; but birds must be made to sing at the proper season. 
 Will you sing for us ?" 
 
 No ! d n my liver if I do !" 
 
 " You have been a bad liver, my poor fellow. Whether you 
 will die as you have lived, is a question for yourself! I give 
 you time. I am, naturally, the most tender-hearted man in the 
 
158 WOODCRA Fl . 
 
 world ; but tough rogues must be made tender also. Confess j 
 I would not be guilty of a cruelty to beast or man ; but out 
 lawry must be stopped ; and thieving and murder are such of 
 fences, that indiscreet persons, like yourself, must be made to for 
 bear them. Open your eyes to your danger, and empty your 
 bosom of its evil secrets. I will count one dozen, while you 
 meditate what to do. I will count slowly, that you may have, 
 time for meditation ; but, sc sure as I am an honest judge, and 
 my sheriff a faithful officer, if, by the time I have said tu-ch-c, 
 you do ftot confess, you ride a nag that blacksmith never yet 
 tried to shoe." 
 
 And the captain of partisans began the tale with well measur 
 ed deliberation ; pausing, between the numbers, the length of 
 a colon at least " one :" " two :" " three j" and so-forth ! 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 THE APPLICATION OF "T.4E QUESTION." 
 
 MEANWHILE, the squatter, Bostwick, had become quite sensible 
 of the danger of his comrade. He could not mistake his situa 
 tion, or the nature of the experiment which was about to be 
 tried upon his firmness. Old experience had made him quite 
 familiar with the whole process. He was very well aware that 
 the purpose, of the partisans would not be simply to execute 
 punishment upon him, except in degree ; and simply to the ex 
 tent which would insure the revelation of his secret. But this 
 was the very danger that he most dreaded. Were they to slay 
 the prisoner outright, the squatter would be much less disquieted. 
 But to force him to speak to compel him to buy his life by 
 giving up his comrades was a danger to himself, involving 
 many dangers, which he could by no means contemplate with 
 serenity. Agitated by various dark and savage feelings, he un 
 consciously advanced several paces from the spot where he had 
 sheltered himself. He advanced but did not forget his caution. 
 Hb approach was still from cover to cover; his place of conceal- 
 
TI1K APPLICATION OF "THK QUi STION. Io9 
 
 ment being always made sure of before taking a single forward 
 step. But he again receded once more crouched into the 
 thicket, and leaned against the tree ; the big sweat coursing, in 
 beaded drops, upon his swarthy forehead. But he still kept 
 watch upon his unhappy comrade, and upon the proceedings of 
 his judges. Sometimes, he muttered in brief spasmodic soliloquy, 
 as if endeavoring to assure himself, in some such utterances as 
 the following : 
 
 " He will die game ! He will not confess ! Very well all s 
 right! Norris was always a tough fellow. He won t give up ! 
 I wisli 1 could help him ; but. that s onpossible. But they won t 
 carry it through ! It s only to scare him ! He knows that f 
 He won t leak ! He ll keep all close ! Ah !" 
 
 He again advanced, and a shudder went over his frame. Ho 
 caught up his rifle, threw it out, and drew it to the range, as if 
 in the act to fire, but in a moment after dropped it in the hollow 
 of his arm again, while he murmured: 
 
 " It s no use ! It kin do no good ! I might kill one on em, 
 easy enough ; but that wouldn t save him, and would only resk 
 myself. Better he should die in the rope ! Every man has his 
 time. He must die some time or other. Ef I could help him, 
 wouldn t I ? But I can t ! It s onpossible, me one, to do any 
 thing ! Ah ! they re at him ! The bloody tigers ! I know 
 what they re arter !." 
 
 r Meanwhile, at the signal of Millhouse, the culprit was drawn 
 up slowly into the air. His hands were tied behind him. He 
 coulft offer no resistance. He slfowed no submission uttered 
 no -entreaty submitted doggedly to the torture impressed 
 with the idea, no doubt, that the party would not proceed to 
 extremities, and that the purpose was to scare him only. He 
 accordingly remained firm ! He bore without a groan or strug 
 gle the painful disfension of his frame, and the stifling pressure 
 of the cord about his throat his face alternately whitening 
 and reddening, and his breast heaving, with the voluminous 
 effort of his lungs. 
 
 Porgy watched the effect with painful feeling. Practice had 
 not indurated him, and, though satisfied of the outlaw s deserts, 
 and fully sensible of the importance of procuring his confession, 
 and not prepared to quarrel with a process which the practice 
 
1HO WOtXDCl.lAi T, 
 
 of the army had fully justified lie was yet not insensible to the 
 claims of humanity ; and was disposed to spare the victim as 
 much as possible. It is indeed highly probable, that, as was the 
 Conjecture of the prisoner himself, and of his ally the squatter, 
 our captain of partisans did not really meditate anything beyond 
 the wholesome fright which would compel the outlaw to disgorge 
 his secrets. But the fellow remained obstinately silent, and his 
 judges were disappointed. 
 
 " Kase him down, sergeant," was the order of the captain. 
 
 " Now, fellow," he continued, as soon as the criminal had 
 somewhat recovered, "are you grown wiser? Do you begin 
 to comprehend your danger ? Are you ready to confess ?" 
 
 The half-suffocated wretch answered with curses, and scorn, 
 and defiance ! In fact, from having been let down so soon, and 
 having suffered so much less than he had anticipated, or had 
 even endured before, he had grown more confident of his posi 
 tion, and more insolent accordingly. Porgy replied to him with 
 real sympathy, but in his own manner. 
 
 " My poor fellow, you are trifling with your safety. You 
 don t know your danger ! . Let me warn you. Do not force me 
 to the last extremity." 
 
 A brutal oath was the only answer. 
 
 " Iloist away, boys," cried Millhouse, not waiting for the 
 orders of his superior. Again the fellow was hauled up, again 
 let down, but with the same result. Porgy began to grow res- 
 tiff under the insolence of the outlaw, who, evidently suffering, 
 was as insolent after recovering as ever. Time was accorded 
 him, and new exhortations addressed to him. 
 
 " My poor fellow," said Porgy, " you must speak now or 
 never ! Your last chance is before you. If you go up again, 
 you only come down to make a full confession, or you come 
 down a dead man ! You hear what I say ? I am in earnest ! 
 You have shown yourself very much a fool as well as a robber. 
 The time left you for growing wise is very short. The sun is 
 near his setting ! Confess your accomplices, and if we can catch 
 and convict them by your evidence, we ll get yo 1 ?. clear ! Show 
 yourself hardened, and you sleep to-night six feet under this 
 tree. You have heard ; will you deliver ?" 
 
 " Do your d dest ! I ain t afear d I" 
 
THE APPLICATION OF " TITK QUESTION." IGl 
 
 This is quite enough of his answer, which exhibited greater 
 brutality than before. We suppress the oaths witli which he- 
 garnished every sentence. Again the executioners, at a signal 
 from Millhouse, mutely drew the fellow up to the tree this 
 time with a swift motion and a somewhat rapid jerk. Millhouse 
 had served as provost-marshal on other occasions. The out 
 law now showed great distress. It was seen that his hands 
 worked opened and shut as if giving signs; then he kicked 
 desperately His gasping, at length, grew into sounds like 
 speech, and the party below at once understood the half-stifled 
 assurance, that he would confess if let down. The miserable 
 wretch succumbed the moment he began to fear that his judge 
 was in earnest. His sufferings were of a sort to induce this 
 change in his opinions. He could not have borne them much 
 longer and lived. He was already black in the face, and his 
 eyes seemed starting from their sockets. Porgy had already 
 thwarted his own policy in the premature yieldings which he 
 had shown. He was evidently unwilling to urge the torture 
 beyond the degree necessary for his object. He had tried to 
 maintain his apparent calmness ; it was a matter of pride with 
 him that he should do so ; but he was not always successful ; 
 and now, as he witnessed the sufferings of the outlaw, he cried 
 out quickly to Millhouse : 
 
 " Let him down, sergeant. For God s sake, let him down !" 
 
 Millhouse hesitated, and ventured to expostulate. 
 
 " He s a mighty tough rascal, cap n ! Tain t tell the life gits 
 a most clean out of the body of such a rascal, that .the honesty 
 gits in ! Don t be too easy with him, or we ll have to do it all 
 over again." 
 
 " Let him down, I say, sergeant !" 
 
 " Very well ; it s jest as you say. One thing s sartain. He s 
 had a lectio bit of a warning this time ; jest a sort of idee of 
 what s the raal state of the argyment. He feels it too. He s 
 not guine to crow agin to-day and when a rogue stops to 
 crow, why, you may look for him to sing as you want him !" 
 
 Millhouse was a tough customer even as a soldier. While he 
 soliloquized, he motioned the negroes to let the outlaw descend 
 slowly. When the fellow readied the ground, and the rope was 
 relaxed, he sank down upon the earth exhausted, though ;>p- 
 
162 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 parently striving- to speak. Lance Frampton promptly clapped 
 a bottle to his month. 
 
 "Why, Lance , what s that?" inquired Porgy, with a new 
 interest in the transaction. The youth slightly laughed. 
 
 " Jamaica, captain." 
 
 " Jamaica ! Where did it come from ?" 
 
 "The wagon, sir! This lark had been long enough in it to 
 knock the bung out of a keg and try the liquor. It was open 
 when they went to load the wagon, and Toby filled a bottle or 
 two for us, thinking it might help us in sickness, or " 
 
 "Ah ! rascal and you heard me sighing for this very stuff 
 after our fatiguing services, and never gave signs-of life !" 
 
 This was said very reproachfully. 
 
 " I knew the sort of work to be done, captain, and didn t know 
 whether we ought to do any drinking in camp while the enemy 
 was about us in the woods." 
 
 " You were right, boy ! Many s the good fellow that has lost 
 his scalp from taking too much heed to his swallow. But I am 
 not the person, as you should know, to err thus and I was 
 almost fainting." 
 
 " Yes, sir, but if you had seen the bottle, the sergeant and 
 Torn, sir, would have have seen it too, and " 
 
 " Git out, you impartinent !" quoth Millhouse, interrupting 
 him, with a slight kick "and don t be choking him with an 
 overdose." 
 
 He pushed him away from Norris as he spoke. The outlaw, 
 meanwhile, had been made to swallow a few mouthfuls of the 
 Jamaica, which had somewhat recovered him, though lie looked 
 about him vacantly, with blood-shot eyes, and seemed still very 
 much stupefied. Porgy was disposed to be indulgent, and pre 
 pared to wait on the fellow for his revelations ; but Millhouse 
 thought this was altogether a mistaken pity. He looked out 
 impatiently into the west, where the sun, himself no longer visi 
 ble, was glinting the forest tops with faint horizontal fires. 
 
 " I m a-thinking, cappin, we hain t got too much time to be 
 wasting on this here rapscallion ! Ef he s got to speak, let him 
 speak ! He kin make the music, or he kaint ! Another h ist 
 will bring it out of him, I reckon. We ve got a good eight 
 Tiiles to ride, and we ll bo in the night." 
 
THE APPLICATION OP 
 
 Porgy looked at the outlaw forbearhigly. The fellow had 
 evidently suffered a good deal, and was still suffering, though 
 his glances showed that he had fully understood all that had 
 b*ieu said, and was not now insensible to his danger. He felt 
 ti at Millhouse, at all events, a hard old soldier, was in down 
 right earnest; and he might reasonably conclude that his sug 
 gestion would, in the end, influence the decision of his superior. 
 
 " It will not need many words," said Porgy. "We can ride 
 in the night, sergeant, I think. We ve done it a thousand 
 times before, in worse weather, and with home much farther off 
 Nay, with no home at all to go to ! Give the poor devil a 
 chance to recover. We may have to hang him after all. But 
 I hope not. He has had a strong taste of the tree, that last 
 trial ; and lias probably come to his senses. Give him the need 
 ful time to get his wits together. When he does speak, it is 
 only to answer some half-dozen questions, which will hardly need 
 as many sentences. Meanwhile, let some of the boys be getting 
 our horses ready." 
 
 Frampton gave the necessary orders, and two or three of the 
 negroes proceeded to this duty. The horses captured from the 
 outlaws were among the objects of their care. While they 
 were thus employed, and Porgy and his companions waiting, 
 with more or less impatience, upon the slowy recovering outlaw, 
 how did the squatter, Bostwick, employ himself 1 ? His interest 
 in the progress of the affair, we may be sure, has undergone no 
 diminution. The proceedings, which we have thus far detailed, 
 were all as evident to his understanding as they were apparent 
 to his sight. He had beheld the sufferings of Norris, with feel 
 ing for which he could not easily find words ; not pity exactly 
 the sentiment was one not likely to penetrate his bosom 
 but gratitude perhaps ; at all events, with a conviction that the 
 degree of endurance which the outlaw was required to show, 
 was quite as important to Ids safety though more remotely 
 as to that of the sufferer himself. Anxiety, the more predomi 
 nant feeling, was naturally mixed up, accordingly, with a cer 
 tain annoying sense of self-reproach, which gave bitterness to 
 his moods, and made him eager to be doing something which 
 might employ his rage against the persecutors of his colleague 
 
 This sort f feeling, of mixed anxiety and rage, changed to 
 
164 WOODCRA1T. 
 
 absolute terror when lie saw the culprit let down from the tree 
 for the first time. Had he then consented to reveal his secret. 1 
 Was he already frightened from his propriety ? Beyond the 
 torture of the process, Bostwick readily persuaded himself that 
 there was no real danger to the victim. He had seen, from the 
 slow and gradual manner in which the executioners worked, 
 thnt the purpose was neither to strangle him nor to break his 
 neck! When let down, accordingly, he rationally conjectmed 
 that, this was done only to receive his confession. Such a con 
 viction naturally filled his soul with fear. His brain throbbed 
 He advanced nervously, some ten steps nearer, with the most 
 desperate impulses ; but paused relieved, in some degree, 
 when he saAv the executioner resume his cruel toils, and saw the 
 culprit reascending. But his fears were aroused anew when, a 
 second time, he saw him let down to the earth. A new relief 
 was brought him when, a third time, he beheld the struggling 
 figure of his comrade depending in empty air. The selfish 
 nature of the ruffian actually rejoiced in the sufferings, so well 
 endured, of the miserable wretch, as they seemed to promise 
 him security for his secrets as they testified to the hardy 
 courage of the sufferer, and seemed to declare his determination 
 to suffer the last extremities rather than betray his pledges, 
 even to associates so unworthy of such fidelity. He could value 
 this virtue in another, as it told for his own security. With a 
 husky chuckle, he kept repeating to himself as he beheld the 
 spectacle 
 
 " Oh ! he s all flint and iron ! He s close as an eyester ! You 
 can t prize his jaws open, and make his tongue wag, however 
 you kin fix it ! Norris is a glorious chap. He s true blue ! 
 I always know d him for a man ! He ll die game ! with a stiff 
 upper lip ! Poor Dick ! Ef I could only help you, wouldn t 
 you see the fur fly !" 
 
 Then, as he beheld the dangling figure again going up, he 
 almost cried aloud 
 
 " Hold on awhile longer, Dick ! Hold on, and they ll hev to 
 give it up ! Sket [shut] your teeth fast, Dick jes stand to it 
 now, this one time, and they ll let you off . It s only to scare 
 the truth out of you ; but don t be scared ; and I m here to 
 save you at the right time." 
 
THE APriJCATTONT OF " TU E QUESTION/ 165 
 
 And, as if his comrade could hear every syllable he said, he 
 proceeded with whispered assurances ot succor. 
 
 "They ll carry you off to Porgy s house, and I ll follow. 
 They ain t got no lock-up. I ll be close ahind them. I ll watch 
 ti.e proper chance for cutting in, and getting you out. It s only 
 a sharp eye, and a light foot, and a bold heart, and a keen 
 knife, and, maybe, a quick bullet, and we kin git you out of the 
 hands of any one they puts to watch over you ; and I m here, a 
 free man still, to help you, Dick; and you knows me, Dick 
 you knows Bostwick lie never desarts a friend so long as life s 
 in him. Close, Dick, and don t you be scared !" 
 
 And all this, though spoken in a whisper, or at most a mur 
 mur, was accompanied with a restless, eager action, as if every 
 syllable could reach the ears of the victim, and every movement 
 of the speaker was apparent to his eyes. The encouragement 
 thus spoken was really meant to reassure himself. For a mo 
 ment, although the sweat covered his face and neck, it seemed 
 to have the effect. His manner became calmer his eye more 
 steady and with even step he stole back to the sheltering 
 place from which he had advanced. 
 
 But when, the third time, he beheld the culprit swing aloft 
 when the distress of the victim was observed to be greater than 
 before when his hands were seen to work and twist, even in 
 their gyves, and the legs were convulsively thrown out with 
 spasmodic action and the forms below were observed to be 
 ^nore than usually attentive, while the extended hand of Porgy 
 seemed to promise indulgent mercy ; and when, a moment after, 
 the outlaw was let down suddenly, supported tenderly beneath 
 the tree, and liquor brought to refresh him : then, the apprehen 
 sions of the squatter obtained full ascendency. He then knew 
 \\\ his danger. He felt that the revelation was about to be 
 made. He understood the terms of mercy. He saw that the 
 prisoner was let down, and those attentions shown him, only be 
 cause of his promise of confession ; and though, from the spot 
 where he stood, he heard not a word that was spoken, he yet 
 understood the new relations of the parties as thoroughly as if 
 .fimseJf one of the nearest bystanders. His opinion of his com- 
 rade changer! instantly from the. favorable one which he had Sv. 
 n centl > ex pressed. 
 
166 tVOODCRAFT. 
 
 " The mean, miserable skunk !" he exclaim cd. " He couldn t 
 grin and keep it in, like a man ! Ef I was only nigh him jes 
 to drive my knife into his jaws ! The poor, mean, cowardly 
 beast, with no more sperrit than a spider ! But he mus n t tell ! 
 Lord G d ! he mus n t tell ! He must shet up for ever. Ef he 
 speaks, I m gone ! Let me see. They ve lifted him again ! 
 Thar he stands up afore the inimy. I could put a bullet 
 through jacket of either of them ; but what s the use ? I could 
 kill one of em, I reckon ; but that wouldn t help him ! The 
 niggers is there, and they ve got we pons too ; and, with the 
 other two white men, they d soon be upon him, and finish him. 
 They d be upon me, too; but looking around him "I 
 reckon twould be a cold trail they d have a ter me ! I could 
 put swamp enough a-tween us to laugh at all their s arching. 
 What s to be done ? It must be done ! Lord ha mercy upon 
 you, Dick Non-is you re a most bloody fool! But ef you re 
 coward enough to blab, I ain t fool enough to let you, ef I kin 
 help it." 
 
 The squatter now advanced a few paces. He moved confi 
 dently, as if his policy had been fully determined upon. He 
 surveyed his ground very narrowly saw that he had space for 
 a run calculated nicely the distance of the swamp thicket 
 the proximity of the cypress tree the shelters, severally, of 
 the gall and hurrah-bushes and then deliberately wiped the 
 perspiration from his brows with his sleeve. His head was 
 stretched forward, as if, at the distance of a hundred yards 01 
 more, he could hear anything that was spoken, and in this atti 
 tude he appeared to listen. He seemed certainly disposed to 
 wait a while on the proceedings of the partisans. 
 
 Meanwhile the outlaw, Norris, was recovering. 
 
 " You feel easier now, my good fellow," said Porgy, " a :( 
 we ve given you every indulgence. You ve had time enougn. 
 Tell your story now ; say who are your accomplices; who s..i 
 you on this expedition, and what were its precise objects. A 
 clean breast of it, my man, if you would hope for mercy ; or yon 
 are run up for the last time !" 
 
 " I ll tell you all !" said Norris, utterly broken down. 
 
 " Good !" answered Porgy. The sooner you set about it 
 the better; for though really willing to wait upon you, and ho 
 
HOW THE FOX DOUBLES. 167 
 
 as indulgent as possible, time won t suffer it. We can t afford to 
 lose the daj light; AVC must ride." 
 
 ""Well, I ll tell you," began the outlaw. "There was six of 
 us, you must know. We was got together in Charleston for 
 this " 
 
 Here he stopped suddenly, perforce. He was not permitted an- 
 .other syllable arrested, at the very opening of his revelations, 
 by a stroke, as if from the very bolt of fate. A rifle-bullet was 
 in his brain ! The report of the rifle and the effect of the shot 
 were one. The victim was falling forward, among the group of 
 listeners, at the very moment when the report of the gun \vas 
 heard. The bullet was aimed with the truest skill. It had bored 
 its way through the forhead, a little over the eyes, the region 
 above both of which it completely traversed. The miserable 
 wretch was dead before he fell! 
 
 A moment after, and Bostwick wheeled about for the swamp, 
 lie had but few words more of soliloquy. 
 
 It had to be done Dick Norris ! Ef you had to speak for 
 your life, I had to stop you for mine ! I would ha saved you, 
 but you wouldn t let me! I m mighty sorry, but it had to be 
 done ! " 
 
 The swamp thicket received him a moment after. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXVII. 
 
 HOW THE FOX DOUBLES, WHILE THE HOUNDS PURSUE. 
 
 IT would be much more easy to imagine than to describe the 
 confusion which ensued among our partisans and their followers 
 by this unexpected catastrophe within their circle. For a moment 
 all seemed paralyzed. The event was so strange, so startling, and 
 so utterly unaccountable, particularly supposing it to be the act of 
 one of the outlaws. Porgy was the first to recover, and to con 
 ceive the motive for the murder by the fellow s colleague. lie 
 Started up, and cried aloud 
 
1GS WOODCRAFT. 
 
 One hundred guineas to him who shall take the murderer 
 alive!" 
 
 One hundred guineas! Our captain of partisans was a per 
 son of most magnificent ideas. Porgy had not, himself, seen 
 such an amount of cash, in one heap, during the last seven 
 years! We have already been advised of the very moderate 
 amount in guineas which he bore away with him at the disband-* 
 ing of the army. But our captain always spoke in round imm 
 bers, such as could roll of! trippingly from the tongue. He 
 might have been good for five guineas, and no doubt he would 
 have given this number cheerfully, though it drained him of 
 every copper that he had ; but a hundred ! He laughed, some 
 what bitterly, a moment after, at the audacity of his own imagi 
 nation. 
 
 But it did not need any reward, so soon as the party had 
 sufficiently recovered their faculties, to stimulate their pursuit o! 
 the murderer. But there was a decided pause for a. brief space 
 after the event. The negroes, at first, were terribly alarmed; 
 some crouched closely to the earth, while others were disposed to 
 scatter themselves in flight. All but Tom, the cook, who was ;m 
 old soldier, and Pomp, the fiddler, who, flattered by recent dis 
 tinctions, was ambitious to prove himself a young one were 
 utterly paralyzed by their terrors. A gulf, opening suddenly be 
 neath their feet, could not have more suddenly swallowed up their 
 courage than did the unexpected bullet of Bostwick. But with 
 the voice of Porgy they looked up. Its clear trumpet-tones 
 cheered them, and satisfied them that they were not all slain. He 
 rose to his feet, with surprising agility, as he, cried aloud, and 
 found Lieutenant Lance Frampton already on the alert, while Ser 
 geant Millhouse, without a word, after giving a single glace to the 
 stiffening body of the outlaw, proceeded, at monstrous long 
 strides, in the direction whence came the bullet of the Jiving one. 
 Tom, the cook, and Pomp, the fiddler, both caught up weapons 
 and darted after Millhouse. Frampton dashed off, also, pursuing 
 another route. The negroes now, generally, encouraged by these 
 demonstrations, took heart, and followed in pursuit and search. 
 They were all more or less provided with weapons, which had 
 been taken from the outlaws. 
 
 "Scatter yourselves, boys! scatter if you would search ancl 
 
HOW THE FOX DOUBLES. 169 
 
 be safe!" was the cry of Porgy. He, too, was in motion, with 
 an ability really astonishing 1 in his case. He caught up sword 
 and pistols in the twinkling of an eye, and started off at a moder 
 ate trot to gain the tree where his horse that which he had 
 taken from one of the slain outlaws w r as fastened to a swinging 
 limb. But he was not destined to reach it so easily, or in so short 
 a space of time as he had allotted himself. He had forgotten 
 certain embarrassments in his own case forgotten that he had, 
 in order to the more easy administration of justice, ungirthed and 
 unbuttoned himself, when taking his scat under the royal oak. 
 He was suddenly restored to recollection on this subject, and 
 brought to an abrupt stand, by feeling himself fettered, with his 
 nether garments clinging about his legs. The circumstances in 
 which he found himself were uttqrly indescribable, but it will not 
 be difficult to conjure them. Pie was only brought to a full con 
 sciousness of his embarrassment by nearly measuring his full 
 length upon the ground. 
 
 "What a devil of a fix!" quoth he, soliloquizing. "Were I 
 now to hear the cry which aroused the Hebrew wrestler The 
 Philistines are upon thee, Samson! what should I do? I should 
 be shot, and sabred, and scalped, before I could steady my legs 
 for decently falling to the ground ! I should go over in a heap 
 like a bushel of terrapins! And what a figure I should make 
 upon the earth! How dreadfully exposed! A most shameful 
 condition for man and soldier ! 
 
 And thus speaking, he deliberately laid down sword and pis 
 tols, and, looking about him cautiously, proceeded to draw up his 
 inexpressibles, and to button, and belt up a performance less 
 easy than necessary. 
 
 It s well the war is over," quoth he, as he labored to contract 
 his waistbands over his enormous waste of waist, and to bring the 
 strap and buckle of his belt to bear. "I am no longer fit for 
 war. It s wonderful that I ve escaped so long and so well ! With 
 such a territory to take care of, its perfectly surprising there have 
 been so few trespassers! I could not always have kept them off! 
 They would have overcome me at last! They might have caught 
 me at some such awkward moment, in some such awkward fix, as 
 the present ! Ah ! There ! It is done at last ! The wilderness is 
 under fence at last ! " 
 
 8 
 
170 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 And he breathed long and heavily, after such severe exertion ! 
 But he wasted no more time than was necessary. Porgy was 
 no loiterer when duty was to be done. lie skulled no task, 
 shirked no obligations; and hence his greater merit, inclining, 
 naturally, as he did, to the creature comforts, and a selfish desire 
 for repose and luxury. He now reached his horse, and mounted 
 in a few moments. He was a good horseman. It was much 
 easier to raise than to lower himself easier to get into the sad 
 dle, than to subside upon his leafy couch on the earth. Once in 
 the saddle, he was a hard rider! The steed that carried him had 
 a great deal to bear besides his weight. He used the spur freely, 
 and was never more liberal in its use than now, when required to 
 make up for lost time. Headlong, he drove into the thick cover 
 of the forest, and for the swamp-fastnesses, where the outlaw, 
 Bostwick, had taken refuge. Here, our partisan captain was 
 soon found, making his way over log and through bog, in mire 
 and water, through close thicket and tangled vine, in a wilderness 
 from which the light was disappearing fast; and as far as horse 
 could well go, where a career on horseback must be very soon 
 arrested. 
 
 The pursuit was hotly urged. It was well that Bostwick 
 had made his calculations so cunningly, and taken such de 
 liberate precautions. He had to deal with old " swamp-suckers," 
 hunters as keen and familiar with such places as himself. 
 Had they been as well acquainted with this particular locality, 
 he had never escaped. Nay, had there been one hour more of 
 sunlight, his chances would have been very doubtful. As Porgy 
 phrased it 
 
 " But one inch of candle more, and we should have his hide." 
 
 As it was, the outlaw was more than once caught sight of in 
 the chase. Millhouse once detected him, as a half-floating log 
 turned with him in the water Pompey cried out that he was 
 going through the gall bushes in front; and Lance Frampton 
 got a clear view of him, at long distance, crossing a tussock. 
 He gave him both pistols as he sped "bang! bang!" with 
 scarce an interval between the two shots; but, at each lire, 
 Bostwick was seen to duck his head instinctively; and, at length, 
 he disappeared in a pond, rising up on the opposite side, amid a 
 heap of drift wood. Here he paused, with his nose just out of 
 water and lay still, as ho thought he lay unseen, 
 
HOW THE FOX DOUBLES. J71 
 
 Aiid lie was in a place of safety. Night had come to his relief. 
 He could hear the cries of his pursuers, but could no longer sec 
 them, and he felt that he was secure. It only required that he 
 should keep still. The sounds of pursuit finally ceased; his 
 enemies had* all disappeared; and like a great Newfoundland clog, 
 shivering all over, he raised himself out of the alligator hole which 
 had harbored him, and stood, savage and gloomy, upon the neigh 
 boring bank; the owl hooted overhead from the blasted cypress, 
 and the sad stars coming out one by one, and looking down like 
 so many mysterious sentinels in Heaven, watchers over the guilty 
 course of man on earth. 
 
 Bostwick shivered, as he looked up, with superstition as well as 
 cold. He had certainly, that day, received a fearful lesson of the 
 vicissitudes and terrors which wait upon evil deeds ! The way of 
 the transgressor is indeed hard ! His comrades gone ; not one to 
 be seen ! How many of the live who had set out with him on this 
 expedition, now breathed the air of life with him? He knew not, 
 at that moment, of one ! He had been baffled in the purpose he 
 had in view. Had lost everything even his rifle, which, in the 
 hottest of the pursuit, he had been compelled to cast away. But one 
 thing he had saved the box of the widow Eveleigh, containing 
 the fifty guineas, and the papers which M Kewn so much desired! 
 He had concealed this box in a hiding-place in the swamp above, 
 which he had no fear would be discovered This was consolation 
 in the recollection of these fifty guineas. He had other consola 
 tions when he thought of the papers and M Kewn ! For the latter, 
 his present situation filled him with new bitterness. 
 
 u D n him ! " he muttered to himself. "He shall pay well for 
 them afore he gits them ! He shall make up to me alt my losses ! 
 He shall pay for these poor fellows, and what they suffered. There 
 will be a sweet bill of it, which he shall foot up every shilling, or 
 there shall be no peace for him on this airth ! " 
 
 Let us leave him, cowering and cursing in the swamp, and re 
 turn to the partisans. They gave up the chase only when they 
 found it no longer possible, to see. Lance Frampton picked up, 
 and brought in, the outlaw s rifle, which they all examined closely 
 in the hopes to identify it ; but they had none of them seen it 
 before in any hands. Three letters, evidently initials of a former 
 owner s name, were cut rudely in the stock. 
 
 "M. T. C." 
 
172 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 "Marcus Tullius Cicero!" quoth Porgy, very gravely. 
 
 "Who, captain? I never heard the name! Do you know him?" 
 was the simple inquiry of the: lieutenant. 
 
 "I ought to; for I received many a flowing, when a boy, that 
 I might become intimate with him and the old fellows lie kept 
 company with. And you may be sure the Homing did not make 
 me love him or them any better! Hut T doubt if cither Marcus or 
 his companions owned this rifle. If they did, then the historians 
 have suppressed many an interesting fact in science . But let us 
 push out of this -wilderness. Lance, and get into the open road. 
 Corporal, see to the negroes, and send them on ahead. Let them 
 get wood and have fire for us at least, when we reach home. It is 
 getting monstrous chilly! Yes we shall need a lire, even more 
 than supper!" 
 
 Supper, indeed! thought Porgy. It was his philosophy only 
 which preferred the lire. 
 
 Obedience was now pleasure. The whole party was well tired 
 of the fruitless pursuit, and all began to feel the chilliness of 
 which the captain complained. - and the hunger also, of which he 
 did not think it necessary to complain. 
 
 " See that the negroes cover the dead bodies with leaves, Lance, 
 until to-morrow, when we must borrow shovels from Mrs. Eve- 
 leigh, and have them burricd. The buzzard and wild-cat will 
 hardly find them in one night." 
 
N TO A RUINED HOMESTEAD. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 TBK uLl) SOLDIi-K" RETURNS TO A RUINED HOMESTKAll. 
 
 ALL was clone as had been commanded. Tom s world of 
 kitchen and camp baggage was fairly divided among the ne 
 groes, all of whom were now mounted on the captured horses of 
 ihe outlaws, some of them riding double. The dead bodies were 
 hidden away beneath the forest leaves and branches, as closely 
 as it could possibly be done. The odds and ends of the party 
 were carefully picked up ; not a tin pan suffered to escape in 
 quiry ; and, under the growing starlight, the negroes took up 
 the line of march, as a sort of advance, with Tom, the cook, for 
 guide and leader ; Porgy, Frampton, and Millhotise following at 
 a less rapid pace. Of these three, the two latter were suffered 
 to lead the way, uur captaii of partisans seeming disposed to 
 linger in a manner that surprised Millhouse, who made it a sub 
 ject of comment to his companion. 
 
 Frampton, through the sympathies which he entertained for 
 his superior, could well understand the reason of his apparent 
 apathy. Without much logic or knowledge without being 
 much a student of .human nature the genial temper of Framp- 
 tcr. had tai.gLt Mm to conjecture the peculiar mood which now 
 trouj-ed the :..:tisan. Besides, he had been enlightened measur 
 ably, that day, on the subject of Porgy s secret cares, by the 
 long conversation between them which has been already reported, 
 and, through which, the lieutenant had found clews to the cap 
 tain s nature and difficulties, such as his buoyant temper had 
 never before suffered him to betray. That the latter should 
 now hesitate now that he was almost at his own threshold 
 did not greatly surprise the youth, and reawakened all his sym 
 pathies for his chief. He might well linger on the route, loath 
 to approach scenes so precious once, so full of dear recollections, 
 but now so full of gloomy aspects and discouraging auguries 
 From Porgy own dec -cription, there could be no prospect hulf 
 
17 4 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 so cheerless as th.it of the ancient homestead which M-as nfe*rt te 
 receive him. Memory and thought might well be painfully busy 
 in his mind. The one recalled a past which wjjs full of sun 
 shine and promise. The other reproached him with a profligacy 
 which had measurably cast fortune from his arms ; and bitterly 
 rehearsed the recent history, in which events seemed to have 
 studiously aided to consummate the ruin which his own erring- 
 youth had begun. The journey, from the coinp of Marion, at 
 the head of Cooper river, and which was now to terminate upon 
 the Ashepoo, had afforded prospects, all along the route, woli 
 calculated to give the gloomiest color to the mind of the observer. 
 Of this journey, we can not afford a better idea than to copy 
 from Moultrie s memoirs, a few passages descriptive of what 
 lie saw, in a neighboring district of country, about the same 
 period in fact, the preceding summer on his own return to 
 his estates, which had suffered in like manner with most others. 
 
 " Soon after my being exchanged," writes the old general, 
 " I prepared to set off, with my family, for South Carolina, and, 
 early in April, left Philadelphia, and arrived at Waccamaw, in 
 Scuth Carolina ; where I was informed that General Greene s 
 army lay at Ashley river, quite inactive, and no military opera 
 tion going on. I remained at Winyaw till late in September, 
 at which time I paid a visit to General Greene. It was the 
 most dull, melancholy, dreary ride thai any one could possibly 
 take, of about one hundred miles, through the woods of that 
 country, which I had been accustomed to see abound with live 
 stock, and wild fowl of every kind. It was now destitute of all. 
 It had been so completely chequered by the different armies, 
 that, not a part of it had been left unexplored ; consequently, 
 not a vestige of horses, cattle, hogs or deer, &c., was to be. 
 found. The squirrels and birds of every kind were totally de 
 stroyed. -The dragoons told me, that, on their scouts, no living 
 creature was to be seen, except a few camp-scavengers (turkey- 
 buzzards) picking the bones of some unfortunate fellows, who 
 had been cut or shot down, and left in the woods above ground 
 .... My plantation I found to be a desolate place ; stock of 
 every kind taken off; the furniture carried away, and my estate 
 had been under sequestration." 
 
 This individual picture was equally true of all the country 
 
RETURN TO A RUINED HOMESTEAD. 175 
 
 and the condition of Moultrie s estate, that of every mrji who 
 had distinguished himself on either side, whether for, or ?^ai ist 
 the revolutionary struggle. Very many had fared even wors^, 
 
 their negroes being wholly carried off, and their dwelling , 
 destroyed by fire. Though hut a captain in the brigade of 
 Marion, Porgy had been honored by a fair share of British bos- 
 tility. His home, he knew, had escaped the torch of the incen 
 diary, but his negroes had been stolen, and the plantation utterly 
 laid waste. We have already seen what special additional causes 
 of anxiety were at work to make him moody. Debt hung upon 
 his fortunes like an incubus; and he possessed no conscious re 
 sources, within himself, by which to restore his property, or even 
 to acquire the means of life. He rode forward, gloomy and 
 comfortless, in spite of fill his philosophy, scarcely exchanging 
 a word with his companions. 
 
 Meanwhile, his negroes, under Tom s guidance, eager once 
 more to regain their old homes, sped on, at a smart canter, 
 which soon left their superiors behind. It was after ten o clock 
 at night, when the lights from a score of wild, gleaming torches, 
 wavering in air, announced the approach to the avenue of 
 " Glen-Eberly," which was the name of Porgy s ancient home 
 stead so named after a goodly grandmother by whom it had 
 been entailed on her brother s children. Our captain of parti 
 sans was aroused to a consciousness of external things, by the 
 loud shouts of the negroes who had preceded him, and who 
 now hailed his approach after a fashion such as Moultrie de 
 scribes in the same narrative from which we have already 
 quoted. 
 
 " T ank de Lord, here s maussa gz t to he own home at last! 
 
 Bress de Lord, Maussa, you come! We all berry glad for 
 see you, manssa glad loo much !" 
 
 And the same negroes who had been with him for several 
 hours before, without so much as taking his hand, now rushed 
 tip and seized it, with loud cries, as if they were hosts, and wel 
 coming a favorite guest. The tears stood in the eyes of our 
 captain, though he suffered none of his companions to behold 
 them ; and he shook hands with, and spoke to them each in 
 turn --few words, indeed, but they were uttered tremulously 
 and r n low tones. 
 
170 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 .Fordham, the overseer of Mrs. Eveleigh, now made his ap 
 pearance from the house. The wagon had departed, having 
 left the supplies as the good widow had ordered. Porgy en 
 tered his house expecting to find it empty and cheerless. lie 
 was gratefully confounded to see the goods, blankets, drink, 
 provisions, all around the hall, and shown to the best advantage 
 under the ruddy gleams of a rousing fire in the chimney. 
 
 "Ah !" said he, " Fordham, Mrs. Eveleigh is a very noble lady. 
 Make her my best respects and thanks. I shall soon ride over 
 and make them in person." 
 
 " Well, my friends," said he to Frampton and Millliouse, when 
 Fordham had departed, " I felt doubtful how to provide you 
 your supper to-night ; though, knowing this excellent lady as 1 
 did, I should not have doubted that she would contribute largely 
 to it. See what she has done ! Here are sugar and coffee ; 
 here are meal and bacon; here is a cheese; here but look 
 about you, and say what we shall have for supper. Supper we 
 must have ! I am famishing. Torn ! Tom ! where the d 1 
 is that fellow ! Does he think that he s free of me, because he s 
 free of the army 1 Tom ! Tom !" 
 
 " Sah ! yer, maussa ! Wha de debbil mek [makes] you hol 
 ler so loud, maussa, when I s jis [just] at your elbow 1 Yon 
 t ink I hard o hearing, cause I got hard maussa, I spose !" 
 
 " Hard maussa, you impertinent scamp ! Another master 
 would have roasted you alive long before this. See, and let us 
 have something, in the twinkling of an eye. Look among these 
 provisions, that Mrs. Eveleigh has sent us, and take out enough 
 to give us all a good feed niggers and all!" 
 
 " Miss Ebleigh ! He s a bressed [blessed] woman, for sartin, 
 for sen we all sich good t ings ; de berry t ings we bin want ; 
 and jis when we want ern. He s a mos spectable pusson, i 
 dat Miss Ebleigh. Ki ! He s a mos [almost] ebbry t ing for 
 ge?tt/;leman supper ! Kah, me ! dis da cheese, in dis tub ! 
 Pomp, you son ob a snail ! why you day 1 Yer ! [here] open 
 dem bundle wha b long to me, in de piazza ! bring fanner [a 
 shallow winnowing basket] and bring bucket you will se day 
 [there]. Hab out de free knife and de four fork, for " 10 * . 
 when he got comp ny. See a ter de hom ny pot ; and ae coifee- 
 pot ; and look up some water for wash dem ! Dere s no 
 
RETURN TO A KUIXKO UDMEHTKAD. 177 
 
 kitchen, inaussa ; he all bu n down. We hub for cook de sup 
 per in ilo, house, yer, or, ma vim, wo kin find fireplace down 
 stairs in de brick part. Go see, Pomp and Pomp, sen out 
 some of dem merger for git lightwood, and bring water and udder 
 t ings." 
 
 We allow Tom to be thus prolix, not simply because he was 
 so permitted by his master, but as he gives us a very correct 
 idea of the condition of household affairs. The kitchen, as he 
 states, was destroyed ; the cooking was finally decreed to lie 
 carried on in the brick basement of the house hereafter, but, for 
 this night. Tom made free with the fireplace of the salle a man 
 ger. The house was an ample one, of wood, on a brick base 
 ment. But it had been completely gutted. There was neither 
 table nor chair ; and our friends couched themselves upon the 
 blankets of Mrs. Eveleigh, spread about the fireplace ; and, 
 accustomed as they had been to still harder, if not humbler 
 seats, upon the naked ground, were not seriously conscious of 
 any privations. Thus sitting, or reclining, they waited in com 
 parative silence the preparations which Tom was making for 
 supper. 
 
 That sable kitchen-despot had found employment for all the 
 negroes, Pompey acting as a sort of lieutenant or orderly. 
 Water and wood, in any quantity, were soon provided. Soon, 
 the hominy was set to boil ; the coffee-pot began to smoko, ; 
 while the "hoe" and "johnny" cakes, spread upon sections of 
 barrel heads, four or five in number, were seen facing the now 
 brightly blazing fire. The chimney-place of the dining-room, 
 though not quite so ample as that of a Southern plantation 
 kitchen, was yet one of sufficiently large dimensions. What 
 with the hominy and coffee-pots, the bread staffs, and the frying- 
 oan, hissing with broad but tender slices of ham which the 
 , ork of the grand cuisinier shifted from side to side, as the 
 occasion seemed to require there Avas little space left in the 
 premises, and no room suffered near them for mere idlers : in 
 vhic)* rank, at this moment, we may consider the captain, him 
 self, and his two companions in arms. But the fire was sufficient 
 to warm the room, the shutters being closed in, though there 
 was not a pane of glass left in one of the sashes. If the whites 
 nf the group were silent, Tom was not. The benefactions of 
 
 8* 
 
178 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 Mrs. Evcleigh afforded him an ample theme for talk ; and, while 
 he stirred the hominy, and turned the ham and the hoe cakes, 
 and pushed up the fire keeping Pompey busy all the while 
 lie maintained a running commentary on the blessings of life in 
 the neighborhood of such an excellent woman a woman so 
 well conversant with her duties to her neighbors. 
 
 " Dis is fus [first] rate oh. bacon, maussa, dat Miss Ebleigli 
 :\\\ sen we ! And tic grits [grist] is de bes flint ; an dis flour 
 b white like snow ; and sich a bowl of coffee, as I guine gibe 
 you to-night, wid sich sugar, you ain t bin see dis fi/;e, free, se&en 
 years, maussa ! Lord be praise, for all he mussies ! When I bin 
 riding long yer to-night, coming to we ole home, I bin say to 
 myself, all long de way, wha de debbil we guine fin home yer 
 for supper to-night ! Enty I know, clem d n British and 
 tory bin skin de plantation ob ebbry t ing ? Hah ! I say, der 
 will be heap o growling tomachs yer to-night ! An I t ink of 
 de cole [cold] and de starbation, till I begin to slubber all ober 
 like new sodger, jis when de inimy begin for shoot ! But, de 
 Lord be praise ! Der s no cole, der s no tarbation ! Yer s 
 ebbry t ing for las we niggars, and you gemplemens mos free 
 week!" 
 
 Tom had calculated nicely, as well as an experienced com 
 missariat could have done. He had an eye to a man s dimen 
 sions. He continued: 
 
 " Time nough free week from now to consideration how for 
 git more supper : and der s no knowing wha guine tu n [turnj 
 up, in dat time, for gib as more hoin ny and bacon. De Lord is 
 wid us ! An maussa, you ain t bin see dis bag o rice, a good 
 bushel I reckon, dat Miss Ebleigh bin sen wid dem udder fings. 
 Hab a pot o rice to-morrow !" 
 
 Tom, when he declared it time enough to consider how to pro 
 cure more food when the present supplies were fairly exhausted, 
 dealt in genuine negro philosophy. Sambo seldom troubles 
 himself to look out for the morrow. His doctrine somewhat 
 tallied with that of Scripture. Instead of "sufficient for the 
 day, the evil thereof," he read, " sufficient for the day, the 
 good thereof." Foresight and forethought are his remarkable 
 deficiencies. Hr, never houses his harvest in anticipation of the 
 storm. 
 
HOW A SUPPER MAY TAKE AWAY AN APPETITE. 
 
 There was one virtue in Tom s philosophies. They neve. 
 embarrassed or delayed him, in his duties and performances 
 . ii id it was not very long before he made the grateful annuncia 
 lion to the hungering troopers that supper was ready to be served 
 Then followed the bustle. Then was Pomp conspicuous afj 
 head waiter, while Tom, as if satisfied with his share of the 
 performance, already executed, drew up a keg to the fireside, 
 and leisurely seated himself as a spectator ready to take up 
 tho, smoking dishes from the fire as soon as the cloth should be 
 spread to receive them ; but in no other way interested in the 
 performance ! ^^ 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 HOW A SUPPER MAY TAKE AWAY A DRAGOON S APPETITE. 
 
 " WHY you no spread de table-clot , Pomp ?" was the snappish 
 demand of Tom, seeing the other hesitate. 
 
 " I no see no clot uncle Tom," replied the bewildered fiddler. 
 
 " Enty blanket is clot , you son ob a skunk ! Is you lib so 
 long in de worP, dat you neber Parn wha one t ing is, and wha 
 nodder t ing is wha is wood, and wha is clot ! I reckon, boy, 
 when we calls you to eat you own supper, you wunt ax ef it s 
 dut [dirt] you urns eat, or hom ny." 
 
 Pomp, humbled by his rebuke, possessed himself of one of 
 the blankets, from the pile sent by the widow, but he still stood 
 vacantly looking about the apartment. 
 
 " Well," quoth our major domo, " wha you tan [stand] for f 
 sucking in de whole room wid your eyes?" 
 
 " I no see any table, uncle Tom !" 
 
 " Don t you uncle me, you chucklehead ! Lay de table on 
 de floor Who could b lieb dat a pusson could lib so long and 
 grow so big, and nebber Parn nutting ! Ha ! boy, you bin in 
 de army, you d ha Parn all sort of t ing at de sharp p int ob de 
 baggnet ! De army s de place for mek man ob senne out ob 
 fool. Ax de gempleman s to git out ob de way, so you kin 
 
80 
 
 spread de ;able-clot ; dough gemplemacs ought to liab sense 
 nough, hese f, for moob [move] widout axing!" 
 
 "Hear that impudent rascal!" quoth Porgy, moving good- 
 naturedly, his example followed by Frampton and Millhouse 
 i4 Was ever fellow so completely spoiled ?" 
 
 " I nebber spile supper, maussa !" responded Tom, with a toss 
 of the head, as if to say "nobody knows my qualities better 
 than yourself." 
 
 "No, indeed, Tom, and you presume on your merits, some 
 what to their injury ; but you will be taken down, you scawip, 
 when you are retired to find and hunt up the supper, as -well 
 as cook it." 
 
 "Ha! but you see, maussa, my business is cook I knows 
 um ! It s maussa business to fin de bittle [victuals]. Put de 
 meat and bread yer, whay I kin put out my han and git em, 
 leff it to me to hab em ready for eat ; but da s all I nab a right 
 for do." 
 
 " Ah ! indeed, my buck ; but I ll persuade you, at the end of 
 a hickory, that you have other rights." 
 
 " Wha maussa ; hick ry for Tom ! Nebber ! Anybody elp^ 
 bin tell me sich a t ing, I say, widout guine to be sassy he s 
 a d n fool for he trouble. " 
 
 "Hear the fellow! Sergeant, do you want a negro a 
 cook <" 
 
 " I ll thank you, cappin, very much. Tom and myself agree 
 very well together. I like his fries monstrous." 
 
 "You shall have him when I m done with him." 
 
 " You nebber guine done wid Tom, maussa ! I tick to you 
 ebbrywhere ; you comp ny good nough for Tom in any country, 
 no matter whay you go." 
 
 " Thank you, Tom ; but Tom, if you don t clap a hot iron 10 
 Pomp s haunches, he ll never have supper on table to-night." 
 
 "De boy will be de deaf ob me!" cried Tom, starting up, 
 and administering a sudden whack to the ear of Pomp, with the 
 flat of an amazingly rough hand. The lad reeled under the 
 salutation. Pompey was more dexterous at the violin, than in 
 the capacity of a house-servant. He had no idea of the noveJ 
 duties he was required to perform ; and, jerking him by the col 
 lar to the fireplace, Tom clapped the several dishes into his hand 
 
HOW A SUPPER MAY TAKE AWAY AN APPETITE. 181 
 
 and proceeded, with the expertness of a veteran, to guide -very- 
 thing to its proper place. Under his administration, the taMe 
 was soon spread. 
 
 "Now you see, boy, how de t ing is done. Member n;.x 
 time, or you ll see sights ob hickory, wid de twigs all grow- 
 in* downwards. Now, tell de gemplemans dat supper is 
 a-waitin ." 
 
 And Tom resumed his seat upon the keg by the fire. Pomp 
 made the necessary signals, after a fashion of his own, and 
 Porgy, letting himself down upon one corner of the blanket, 
 which served as a table-cloth, invited his comrades in war to 
 follow his example. They did not wait for a second invitation, 
 but grouped themselves about the lowly board, occupying oppo 
 site places. Tom flung some fresh brands into the fire, which 
 blazed up ruddily, throwing a strong light over the great hall, 
 and showing, picturesquely, the group upon the floor, with Pomp 
 in waiting, and several sooty faces peering in through one of 
 the windows from which a shutter had been torn opening 
 upon the piazza. 
 
 The equipments of the board were quite as picturesque as the 
 group around them. The crockery closet of Captain Porgy 
 being utterly empty, the hominy-pot, black and smoking as it 
 was, had been lifted bodily from the fire, and now stood in the 
 centre, resting upon a barrel-head, into which its three legs 
 burned regular sockets. A pewter spoon was employed to scoop 
 up its white and well-boiled contents. The coffee-pot, a bat 
 tered vessel that had been in the wars, occupied a similar rest 
 ing-place j while the fried bacon was handed round, by Pomp, 
 to the several parties in a huge frying-pan, in which it had been 
 " done to a turn." This vessel bore proof, also, of serious ser 
 vice, having more than one flaw in the sides, while one half of 
 the handle had been carried away in actual conflict with the 
 keen sabre of a British dragoon. The partisans helped them 
 selves to meat and gravy, in turn, from this sooty vessel, which 
 was then restored to the fireplace, the better to keep warm the 
 residue of the bacon. The hoe-cake, broken into good-sized 
 bits, was placed upon another section of a barrel-head, by the 
 Imnds of Porgy himself. At the side of each stood his tin cup 
 wioking with coffee, while the top of the coffee-pot was en> 
 
182 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 ployed to hold sugar, and stood, conveniently far the use. of <ui, 
 in the centre of the group. 
 
 Tli us served, our partisans were by no means slow in tholr 
 performances The edge of appetite was keen. They worked 
 vigorously. The taste of the meats improved tne moods of all 
 parties, and opened hearts as well as jaws. The fullness of the 
 mouth prompted the heart to speech ; and, in the enjoyment of 
 tilings of the flesh, Porgy soon began to forget the anxieties* 
 of the spirit. He smacked his lips over the luscious ham. 
 exclaiming : 
 
 "This may be called good, Tern very good: in fact, 1 
 never tasted better. You have certainly lost none of your tal 
 ent in consequence of your leaving the army." 
 
 " I bin good cook fore I ebber see de army." 
 
 " So you were, Tom ; but your taste was matured in the 
 army ; particularly on the Pedee. But you were better at a 
 broil, I think, before the war." 
 
 " Tom s jest as good, I m a-thinking, at a fry as at a brile, 
 cappin," quoth Millhouse, licking his chaps, while elevating a 
 huge slice of his bacon into sight, upon the prongs of his fork. 
 
 " An why you no say bile, too, Mass Millh us ?" demanded 
 Tom, apparently not satisfied that there should be any implied 
 demerits in his case. 
 
 " En [and] so I mout [might]," answered the sergeant. " This 
 here hominy now, to my thinking, is biled to a monstrous softness." 
 
 " An de bake de bread wha you say for him?" was the 
 next exaction of Tom s vanity; and he handed up, as he que 
 ried, a fresh supply, from the fire, of a wisp, well-browned 
 "Johnny-cake" an article, by the way, which is too often 
 served up, of most villanous manufacture, particularly at i 
 nodcrn barbecue ; but which, in those days, might usually be 
 . omm ended, and which, in Tom s hands, was an achievement 
 \ chef-d 1 (suvre of kitchen art. 
 
 " Well, Tom, I kin say with a mighty cl ar conscience, that 
 this is raal, gennywine bread. I only wish Miss Ebeleigh was 
 here now, herself, jest to try a taste of it." 
 
 "Ha!" quoth Tom, heaving up "I speck [expect] ef he 
 bin yer, he would nebber le* maussa res , tell he beg me from 
 era He would want you to gib me to um, I tell y?tt, mauasa I" 
 
HOW A SUPPER MAY TAKE AWAY AX AT PETITE, 188 
 
 Give you, Tom ! Give you to anybody ? No ! no ! old fel 
 low ! I will neither give you, nor sell you, nor suffer you to be 
 taken from me in any way, by Saint Shadrach ! who was your 
 blessed father in the flesh, and from whom you inherit your 
 peculiar genius for the kitchen ! Nothing but death shall ever 
 part us, and even deatli shall not if I can help it. When I die, 
 you shall be buried with me. We have fought and fed too long 
 together, Tom, and I trust we love each other quite too well, to 
 submit to separation. When your kitchen fire grows -cold, Tom, 
 I shall cease to eat ; and you, Tom, will not have breath enough 
 to blow up the fire when mine is out ! I shall fight for you to 
 th( last, Tom, and you, I know, would fight to the last for me 
 as I am very sure that neither of us can long outlast the other/ 
 " Fight for you, maussa ! Ha ! Jes le dem tory try we. 
 maussa!" responded Tom, quite excited, and shaking his head 
 with a dire significance. But Tom did not exactly conceive the 
 tenor of his master s speech, or the direction of his thoughts. ITe 
 did not conjecture that the earnestness with which the latter 
 spoke, had its origin in his recent meditations ; and these had 
 regard to civil rather than military dangers to the claws of 
 the sheriff, rather than tory weapons ! Once on this track, 
 Povgy found relief in continuing, and in making himself better 
 understood. 
 
 " They shall take none of you negroes, if I can help it ! But 
 
 they shall take all before they touch a hair of your head, Tom !" 
 
 * Da s it, maussa ! I know you nebber guine part wid Tom !" 
 
 " Before they shall tear you from me, Tom " 
 
 " Day ftheyj can t begin to come it, maussa ! I tick to you. 
 maussa, so long as fire bu n !" 
 
 " But, it might be, Tom ; the time might come ; circumstances 
 might arise ; events might happen ; 1 might be absent, or una 
 ble , and then, you might fall into the clutches of some of the.so 
 (1 d harpies, who take a malignant pleasure in making peo 
 ple uncomfortable. You have heard, Tom, of such an animal 
 as a sheriff, or sheriff s deputy ?" 
 
 * Enty I know ? He s a sort of warmint ! I knows eir 
 well ! He come into de hen-house, cut chicken t roat, drink <?f 
 blood, ar I suck all do eggs ! I know em, for sartain ! T ^f 
 him? 
 
184 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 " Yes, they are blood-suckers, and egg-suckers, aiid throat- 
 cutters that s true, Tom; vermin of the worst sort: but they 
 still come in the shape of human beings. They are men aftei 
 a fashion ; men-weasels, verily, and they do the work of beasts ! 
 You will know them by their sly looks ; their skulkings, peep- 
 ings, watchings, and the snares they lay ; by the great papers, 
 with great seals, that they cany ; and by their calling them- 
 selves sheriffs or constables, and speaking big about justice as 
 the law. If any of you negroes happen to see any such lurking 
 about the plantation, or within five miles, let me know. Don i 
 let them lay hands on you, but make for the swamp, the mo 
 rnent they tell you stop. You, Tom, in particular, beware of 
 all such ! Should they succeed in taking you, Tom should J 
 not be able to help you should you find them carrying you oft, 
 to the city or elsewhere, to sell you to some other master " 
 
 " Gor-a-mighty ! rnaussa, wha for you scare me so, finking 
 ob sich t ings ?" 
 
 " Tom ! sooner than have you taken off by these vermin, I 
 will shoot you !" 
 
 " Me ! shoot me ! me, Tom ! Shoot me, maussa !" 
 
 " Yes, Tom ! you shall never leave me. I will put a brace 
 of bullets through your abdomen, Tom, sooner than lose you ! 
 13ut, it may be, that I shall not have the opportunity. They 
 may take advantage of my absence they may steal you away 
 coming on you by surprise. If they should do so, Tom, I 
 \J rely upon you to put yourself to death, sooner than abandon me 
 and become the slave of another. Kill yourself, Tom, rather 
 than let them carry you off. Put your knife into your ribs, any 
 where, three inches deep, and you will effectually baffle the 
 blood-hounds !" 
 
 u Wha , me, maussa ! kill mese f! Me, Tom! Tick knife 
 ! ree inch in me rib, and dead ! Nebber, in dis vorP [world] 
 maussa ! I no want for dead ! I always good for cook ! I 
 good for fight good for heap o t ing in dis life! No good 
 nough for dead, manssa ! No want for dead so long as der s 
 plenty ob bile, and bvile, and bake, and fry, for go sleep poii 
 D-n t talk ob sich t ing, maussa, jis now, when de time is mo? 
 [almost] come for me cat supper! 
 
 * Tom !" exclaimed the captain of partisans, laying down hi* 
 
HOW A SUPPER MAY TAKE AWAY AN APPETITE. 
 
 knife and fork, and looking solemnly and sternly at the negro 
 u I thought you were more of a man that you had more affec 
 tion for me Is it possible that you could wish to live, if sepa 
 rated from me 1 Impossible, Tom ! I will never believe it. 
 No, boy, you shall never leave me. We shall never part. Y^u 
 shall be my cook, after death, in future worlds, even as you are 
 aerc. Should you suffer yourself to survive me, Tom should 
 you be so hard-hearted I will haunt you at meal-time always. 
 Breakfast, dinner, supper at every meal you shall hear my 
 voice. I will sit before you as soon as the broil is ready, and 
 you shall always help me first !" 
 
 The negro looked aghast. Porgy nodded his head solemnly 
 
 " Remember ! It shall be as I have said. If you are not 
 ./epared to bury yourself in the same grave with me when 1 
 lie, I shall be with you in spirit, if not in flesh ; and I shall 
 jiake you cook for me as now. At breakfast you will hear me 
 call out for ham and eggs, or a steak ; at dinner, perhaps, for a 
 terrapin stew; at supper, Tom when all is dark and dreary, 
 xnd there is nobody but yourself beside the fire I shall cry 
 out, at your elbow, My coffee, Tom! in a voice that shall 
 jhake the very house !" 
 
 " Oh, maussa ! nebbcr say sich t ing ! Ef you promise sich 
 Ting, you hab for come !" 
 
 "To be sure; so you see what you have to expect if you 
 daic to survive me !" 
 
 Tom turned gloomily to the fire? not a little bewildered. The 
 bravest negro is the slave of superstitious fancies, and Tom was 
 a devout believer in ghosts, and quite famous in the kitchen lor 
 his own ghost experience. 
 
 " But to your own supper now, with what appetite you may, 
 and see that you feed the other negroes. I see that we have all 
 supped." 
 
 " Lor -a-mighty, maussa, you tek* way nil me appetite for 
 supper." 
 
 "You will soon enough find it, I fancy," quoth Porgy, coolly, 
 as he lighted his pipe. Millhouse followed the example, and, 
 accompanied by Lieutenant Frampton, the two adjourned to the 
 piazza, leaving the field to the negroes, who, at a given signal, 
 mshed eagerly in to the feast 
 
CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 MILLHOUSE DISCLSSES THE POLICfc )F CAPTATi\ 
 PORGV. 
 
 IT has been said that the homestead of the eld soldier wa* 
 entirely swept, of furniture In emerging from the hall to the 
 p azza, Porgy and his followers were without a chair upon which 
 to sit. They paced the piazza, accordingly, puffing as they 
 wt-nt. The floor of it shook beneath their steps. It needed 
 repair. The bannisters were gone. The boards were half 
 decayed. The s^eps by which they ascended to the house 
 were ticklish to the last degree," to employ the phrase of 
 Porgy himself. The latter paused in his paces. 
 
 " This won do/" said he. " To smoke is to contemplate. 
 Contestation implies calm, repose, and an easy position for the 
 body. With the pipe, in my mouth I must sit or lie. Let us 
 f , ^tit and sit by that fire, boys." 
 
 The negroes had kindled a fire within fifty feet of the house, 
 and on one side of the avemi. It was the customary camp- 
 fire to the old .soldiers, and tkfetc was no reluctance Iceland or 
 felt to the proposition cf the captair of partisans. Jle led tl-e 
 way, accordingly, and, with a grunt and some effort, hit himself 
 down beside the blaze. New brands were supplied by Framp- 
 ton. and himself and Millhoiise subsided upon the ground also, 
 ac respectful distances from their superior. Here they crouched 
 for a while. Supper had done its work, in inducing a certain 
 f" i3ing of sluggishness. Change of circun? 7 aiice was productive 
 ilst eft mood which inclined rather to musing than to speech 
 The thoughts of all were more or less* busy. The subject of 
 Porgy s speculations may be easily conjectured. Those of 
 Millhoiise ara not less easily definable, b^t they involved few 
 anxieties on his own account. I ance Franipton was a young 
 lover, who felt every bou\- an age which xept hiw away 
 
MILLUOUSE DISCUSSES THE POLICY OJ- PORGT. 181 
 
 ins rustic beauty. Of course his head and heart were filled with 
 her image. Not that he had not other thoughts more proper u. 
 his immediate associations. His was a spirit of generous sym 
 pathies, and, spite of all Porgy s selfishness of character, the 
 young man, through an intercourse of three years, had learned 
 to love and honor him for the really good points in his nrHire in 
 spite of :tg egotism. He mused quite as much upon the foi runes 
 of his superior as upon his own. 
 
 For a time, accordingly, all were busy brooding each after his 
 own fashion, and all silent. The pipes sent forth their volumes, 
 adding not -i little to the cloudy atmosphere by which they were 
 surrounded. The night was dark and raw, without being really 
 cold. The winds were low, and faintly sighed through the too 
 scanty bit of wood which lay between our group and the north. 
 The prospect promised rain by morning. The weight of the 
 atmosphere was felt, and, pressing back the smokes of the fire, 
 kept the party onveloped in a white shroud of mist and vapor. 
 A melancholy stillness overspread the scene, and the ear felt 
 oppressed, as tvell as the eye, by the uniform absence of all 
 provocation from without. Not a star was to be seen. A solid 
 wall seemed to shut in the circle within thirty yards ; and inside 
 of this circuit nothing was visible but the skeleton outlines of the 
 ees, and the vague, faint white of the dwelling-house. Our 
 ;arty felt the gloom of the prospect. The captain and sergeant 
 puffed, with all their vigor, and very soon replenished their pipes. 
 The former at length broke silence. 
 
 " We are to have rain by the morning ; but this must not prc 
 Tjr fmt us from putting those rascals out of sight" (meaning the 
 uw.uws who had been slain). "You must give instructions, 
 Lance, *\ one of the negroes, to set off by daylight to Mrs. Eve- 
 Ifligh, and borrow spades and shovels, or hoes, for the purpose 
 of burying th t-.m. I doubt if such things are to be found any 
 where on this place. After that, Lance, I suspect you will de 
 sire to ride over and visit the widow Griffin. It will be a day s 
 visit only, I suspect, and you will be back at night. But that s 
 just as you and they think proper. Of course, you know, my 
 boy, that so long as I have house-room and enough for supper 
 you shall share it. When you are married, you shall still do *> 
 Y ou please. You may bring your wife here, if it suits you. aup 
 
\VUODCKAFT. 
 
 her mother too. At all events, here is your home, so long as h 
 is mine." 
 
 " Thank you, kindly, captain ; and I hope you ll keep youi 
 plantation for ever. I expect to work for you here uivil I m 
 married, and after that we ll see. I reckon Mrs. Griffin will 
 want Ellen and ine to live wi ner when we are married, and 
 to manage her little place/ 
 
 " That is, if she herself does not marry." 
 
 " Oh ! I don t think she s going to do that. She was mighty 
 fond of her husband." 
 
 " Y-e-s !" quoth Porgy, taking out his pipe, and emptying tli<* 
 ashes. "Y-e-s ! it may be so and yet the widow is tolerably 
 /oung, fresh, and good-looking. A dead husband is of no sort 
 />f use in this world, and that is the present question. When I 
 have smoked out my pipe, and emptied the ashes, I am apt, 
 after a little pause, to fill it with fresh tobacco. He who has 
 smoked one pipe, will be apt to try another, and another, as 
 long as he can smoke. That is, if the first has not sickened him, 
 That the widoAv has found one husband grateful, is good reason 
 why she should try another. Mrs. Griffin is a woman of sense, 
 and has too many good qualities to remain single. She is a 
 good housekeeper everything is in trim about her. She takes 
 care of everything, and herself neat. Besides,- she makes a first- 
 rate terrapin stew, quite as good as Tom ; and her broil and fry 
 will pass muster in any camp. I remember the blue cat, which 
 she gave us on the Edisto, with a relish even now ; and that 
 reminds me, by the way, that we must get hooks and lines ready 
 for the Ashepoo pretty soon. We shall have the spring upon 
 us before we get our tackle ready." 
 
 " I m a-thinking, cappin," said Millhouse, "that you ll have 
 to be seeing about something besides blue cat and fishing lines, 
 You ll want ploughs and hoes sooner than anything else. These 
 niggers must go to work, mighty soon, ef I m to have the man 
 aging of em." 
 
 "You, Millhouse! Do you mean to volunteer as ovei- 
 seer ?" 
 
 " Don t I ! I reckon that s pretty much all I m good for 
 But it s lucky I do know something of rice planting ; and I was 
 never a slouch at making corn. I m for breaking up lam] 
 
MILLHOUSE DISCUKSES THE POLICY OP PORGY. 
 
 and going to work, without so much as axing your leave or 
 Llssinff." 
 
 * You shall do as you please, old fellow, for I don*" know that 
 i can teac! y on anything in these matters. I was always oiKo 
 of that large class of planters who reap thistles from their plant 
 ing. I sowed wheat only to reap tares. I never had luck in 
 planting." 
 
 " That s because you never trusted to luck, cappin. You was 
 always a-thinking to do something better than other people, and 
 you wouldn t let nater [nature] alone. You was always a-hur- 
 rying nater, tell you wore her out ; jest like those foolish moth 
 ers who give theii children physic dose after dose one dose 
 fighting agin the other, and nara [neither] one gitting a chance 
 to work. No\y, I m a-thinking that the true way is to put the 
 ground in order, and at the right time plant the seed, and then 
 jest lie by, and look on, and see what the warm sun and the 
 tain s guine to do for it. But you, I reckon, warn t patient 
 enough to wait, You was always for pulling up the corn to see 
 if it had sprouted ; and for planting over jest when it was begin 
 ning to grow. I ve known a many of that sort of people, pre- 
 J jklarly among you wise people, and gentlemen born. It ain t 
 . sasonable to think that a man kin find new wisdom about every 
 thing ; and them sort of people who talk so fine, and strange, 
 s,nd sensible, in a new way, about the business that has been 
 practised ever since the world begun, they re always overdoing 
 the business, and working agin nater. They re quite too know 
 ing to give themselves a chance." 
 
 " That s philosophy, Millhouse." 
 
 " No, cappin, tain t philosophy, but it s mighty good sense. 
 L kin make corn, and rise, I reckon, jest as good as any man ; 
 and you must leave it all to me. I ll work it all out, and you 
 mus n t meddle, cappin, except to do jest them things that I tell 
 you." 
 
 " Good ! I like that ! I feel that I should greatly improve 
 under a good sense keeper." 
 
 " Zackly, cappin ; that s the very thing you ve been awant- 
 ing all your life. Now, I ve hearn you tell, how you used, when 
 a-planting these same rice lands of your n, to let the water off 
 of the fields to catch the fish, ef so be some of your friends hap 
 
190 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 pen d to come and dine with you. Sp ile a whole field of fine rice, 
 jest flooded, to catch a few pairch!" 
 
 "Ah! but, Millhouse, they were such beauties! You never saw 
 such perch in your life." 
 
 "I reckon I ve seed as fine pairch as ever you caught, cappin. 
 But that ain t the thing, no how. Ef they were as fine fish as 
 ever grow d in water, it was a sin and shame to sp ile the rice to 
 catch em; and,. as sure as a gun, cappin, ef you hud been rightly 
 sarved, you d ha been tucked up to a swinging limb, and been 
 dressed with a dozen hickories, tell you was made sensible and 
 ashamed." 
 
 "Humph!" exclaimed Porgy, emptying the ashes from his pipe, 
 and by no means delighted with the suggestion. But his self- 
 esteem was less combative than usual, and he remained silent. 
 Millhouse proceeded. 
 
 "Now, cappin, I ve walunteered to be your sense-keeper, as you 
 calls it, in all the plantation business, and you must jest let me 
 have my own way, ef you want to git on sensible in the world. 
 I m overseer, and you mus n t come between me and the niggers. 
 [ 11 do my work, and will make em do theirs. Ef there s any 
 licking to be done, I ll lay it on. You may look on, but you 
 tnus n t meddle. You may think what you please, but you mus n t 
 say nothing. AVe kin talk over the matter every night, and I ll 
 show you the sense of what I ve been doing in the day. You 
 kin fish in the river when you please, and hunt in the woods 
 v\ 7 hen you please, and go riding and dining out where you please, 
 and I won t meddle, nor say nothing; but in the crop, cappin, 
 you mus n t put a finger to sp ile what I m a-doing for your 
 good." 
 
 "A very pretty arrangement." 
 
 "Ain t it, now?" 
 
 "Very? I have your permission to hunt, and fish, and dine 
 abroad, if I think proper. These, then, are my duties?" 
 
 " Zackly ! but you arc not to take hands and horses out of the 
 crop, cappin, for your musements. You re not to carry a good 
 plough-boy off to find bait for you when you re a-fishing; or 
 horse and nigger to beat the woods when you re a-hunting. You 
 must choose one horse for your own riding, cappin, and stick to 
 that," 
 
MILLHOUSE DISCUSSES THE POLICY OF PORGY. 191 
 
 " You ll let me keep a dog or two, Millhouse?" 
 
 "One, I reckon, of lie s a good one, cappin. One good beagle 
 is quite enough for these woods." 
 - " But I shall want a pointer for birds. 
 
 "A p inter! I never could see the use of a p inter! I kin 
 find as many partridges, or doves, to shoot, in a pea country, as 
 any man can p nt a gun at, and without any dog at all. I ve 
 shot, myself, a whole covey of partridges, sixteen, at a single 
 fire." 
 
 "Oh! that was butchery, Millhouse. Anybody can kil! par 
 tridges upon the ground, or doves upon the tree. But to do this 
 upon the wing, and to bird like a gentleman and a sportsman, 
 Millhouse, requires a dog to point and flush." 
 
 "Look, you, cappin, them s all notions; and when a man s 
 wanting flesh for the pot, and meal for the hoe-cake, it s not reason 
 able that he should be a sportsman and a gentleman. That s a sort 
 of extravagance that s not becoming to a free white man, when 
 he s under bonds to a sheriff." 
 
 "D u the sheriff! Don t mention such an animal in my hear- 
 
 "Well, d n the sheriff! I m agreed to that. I ve no reason 
 to love the animal any more than you ; but when we can t shake 
 off the beast, the best way that I can see is to draw his teeth. 
 Now, the sort of life you wants to lead, cappin, will do for a 
 nigger gentleman, that ain t got nothing to lose ; or for an Ingin 
 gentleman who s got nothing that a sheriff can put under the ham 
 mer; but for you that s got edication, and has been a soldier, the 
 thing is different, The difference between a white man and a * 
 nigger, or an Ingin, is that a white man was made to gather sub 
 stance about him, and a nigger and an Ingin was made to waste it. 
 That s the whole. The Ingin was born to clear the woods of the 
 varmints for us; and the nigger to clean up after we ve eaten. 
 That s the philosophy." 
 
 "And very sensible philosophy, too, Millhouse. I had no idea 
 that you had such profound ideas. I begin to think that you ll 
 save me from the sheriff if any one can." 
 
 "You must be doing something for yourself, cappin, besides 
 fishing and hunting ; or, ef you will hunt, there s a sort of game 
 that, ef you kin take it, will always be sure to bring us meat for 
 
192 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 the pot. That s the sort of game that you might hunt, and want 
 no p inter more than your own nose ! " 
 
 Unless yourself, Millhouse. Pray point out this profitable 
 sort of game, if you please." 
 
 " Well, that ain t so hard a matter. And iirst, cappin, let me 
 say you re a good-looking personable man, only a little over mid 
 dle age. You hain t lost your uprightness. Your face is smooth. 
 It hain t got a wrinkle on it. Your eyes. is small, but of a mighty 
 sweet sort of blue ; and though you re a leetle too fleshy to be 
 Kjtriyh, yet, Lord save me, you kin stand a mighty great deel of 
 hard usage." 
 
 "And so " 
 
 "And, therefore, cappin, you ought to git married!" 
 
 "As logical a conclusion as I ever heard in all my life. A man 
 who can stand hard usage may safely venture upon matrimony. 
 Pon my soul, Millhouse, your philosophy and logic improve 
 together." 
 
 "I m glad you think so, cappin," responded the other, with 
 increasing gravity. "I ve been a-thinking what you ought to 
 do ever sence I heer d you talking of the bad state of your af 
 fairs. Now, says I to myself, what better kin the cappin do, 
 than find some clever, good sort of woman, that s outlived all 
 her girlishness and foolishness, and that s come to know the 
 valley of a husband! That won t be looking too closely at his 
 figure, and thinking his paunch too big, and his legs too little 
 that won t be axing whether he s cut his eye-tooth or not; but ll 
 jest consider that a man s a man in spite of his gaaVth; that a 
 soldier s altogether the best sort of a man going in these times ; 
 and that ll pass over the sprinkle of gray in his head, in con 
 sideration of his sound teeth and good wind. Now, cappin, you 
 does git a leetle out of wind, when you re pushed too hard; 
 but, considering what a mortal weight of flesh you ve got to 
 carry, it s wonderful how much you kin stand. It s wonderful, 
 I say, and jest as surprising as wonderful. Well, now. con 
 sidering all these things, what s to hcnder you from gitting to 
 the right side of some good woman, with a smart chance of 
 property, and proving your title to it, by the sensible way you 
 come over her. I reckon there s more than a hundred such 
 women here in Carolina, now, that, when they come to consider 
 
MILLHOUSE DISCUSSES THE POLICY OF PORGY. ] 93 
 
 how many of tlic handsome young- fellows is cut off in the war, 
 will be mighty glad to liev you in spite of figgor, and gray 
 hairs. You ain t so old, cappin, but that you ve a right to hev 
 a wife : and, under the sarcumstances, I say, a wife is the one 
 thing needful ; that is always providing she s got something of 
 a property to go upon ; for, onless you git a woman of sub 
 stance, it ll only make your affairs harder to manage than ever. 
 You must be thinking of a woman that ll pay off that mort 
 gage you talk about, and hev something over. Then, we kin 
 work the plantation to some purpose. Then you needn t fear 
 
 the d (1 warmint of a sheriff", and then, with God s blessing 
 
 on our innocent disposition, we may all live here like fighting 
 cocks." 
 
 All this, and much more, was said with a delightful gravity. 
 Porgy was overwhelmed. He was so taken by surprise, by the ^ 
 coolness with which Millhouse analyzed himself and his affairs, 
 and reported upon his shortness of wind, while he acknowledged 
 the excellence of his teeth ; the immensity of his girth, while 
 he admitted the amiable cast of his eyes ; his slenderness of leg, 
 (or " shrunk shank," as Porgy muttered sotto roce) while rec 
 ognising the smoothness of his cheeks that he was absolutely 
 dumb-foundered, and never once thought to interrupt him, let 
 ting him run to the end of his tether, which was by no means 
 a short one. At length, the worthy sergeant came to a halt. 
 He had reached his climax. What a soldier s idea of life living 
 "like a fighting cock" properly must be, need only be left to 
 the conjecture of the reader. Porgy evidently understood it. 
 
 " That would be something, indeed, Millhouse." 
 
 " Wouldn t it !" exclaimed the other. 
 
 " Yes, indeed ; as fighting militia men, we have seldom been 
 allowed the privilege of living like fighting cocks, and I confess, 
 for one, T should like to try it, for a season, if only by way of a 
 change But " 
 
 Here the captain of partisans turned uneasily. 
 
 " Lance," said he to the lieutenant, " those negroes will never 
 finish supper unless you stir them up ; and I begin to think that 
 the house would be quite as comfortable as the avenue. This 
 mist is turning into rain. Get in, my lad, and see after them, 
 and let them make a clearing for us !" 
 
 9 
 
194 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 The youth disappeared in an instant. 
 
 "And so, Millhonse, you think I am still able to undeigo the 
 .fatigues of matrimony ?" 
 
 " It s the very thing for you, cappin." 
 
 " Well, you ve thought so much upon the subject, I suppose 
 you ve even thought of some woman in particular, such as you 
 describe, who has the needful, and knows the value of a man, 
 Pray, tell me, if such is the case." 
 
 " To be sure, I hev ! I ve seed the very woman, and so hev 
 you." 
 
 Ah! Well - " 
 
 " Well ! it s jest the same lady, here, that we e jt loose 
 the robbers this widow Ebeleigh. When I seed ti:e supplier 
 in her wagon, and seed how liberal she was in giving; when ) 
 seed the bacon and the bread, the sugar and the coffee, and the 
 old rum, cappin says I to myself That s the woman for the 
 cappin ; and I say it agin, cappin, she s a woman you kin stand. 
 I wouldn t be consenting to your having any sort of a woman, 
 but this here one is a beauty for a man at your time, who p a 
 soldier, and knows what s good living in this world ! And I m 
 a-thinking, cappin, that that s not far from her notion too. She 
 looked on you amazin sweet, I tell you." 
 
 " It is something to be thought of, Millhonse ; but, as fche 
 iddoAv isn t here, just now, suppose we try the rum ? What do 
 you say to a toddy ?" 
 
 " Well, I say, that s quite a sensible and sodger-like idee. 7 
 
 " Your arm, my good fellow," quoth Porgy ; and, .vith the 
 help of the sergeant, he heaved his bulk into uprightness, and 
 both of them passed into the house ; from the hall of 
 Frampton had by this time expelled the negroes, sending th 
 hito the basement, Tom and Pompey alone remaining abo" 
 .nth the view to making proper arrangements for the night. 
 
MUSINGS MIDNIGHT ALARM. 196 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 MUSINGS MIDNIGHT ALARM. 
 
 " TOM," said Porgy, stirring his rum find sugar, and touching 
 glasses with the sergeant (Frampton declined to drink)" Tom, 
 where are you going to spread my blankets to-night ?" 
 
 " Yer, maussa yer by de fire. Yer s de place for you; de 
 leftenant must lie dere, and de sarjint will ease he limbs yender, 
 close by de sugar kag." 
 
 " Twon t do, Tom ! I must sleep in my old room, you ras 
 cal, if it s habitable. You know this, but " 
 
 " But dere s no lire dere, maussa." 
 
 " And why the d 1 didn t you have a fire made there, you 
 
 lazy rascal ? See to it at once. Open the room, and if there s 
 floor enough for my length and breadth, have it swept out in 
 the twinkling of an eye. Set some of the fellows at once to 
 work bringing in wood and kindling fire." 
 
 " You, Pomp " 
 
 " Let Pomp alone. I want him here. Do it yourself, if you 
 can find no one else." 
 
 Torn disappeared, and stirred up the negroes below stairs. 
 The door of a chamber entering from the hall was thrown open, 
 and a torch carried in. 
 
 " Is it habitable V was the demand of Porgy. 
 
 " Oh yes, maussa, when I done bresh em out, and mek do 
 (ire bu n. One ob de floor-board is gone, but nuff lef for you 
 lie pon." 
 
 " Very good. Bestir yourself. And now, men, for the order 
 of the day to-morrow. We must get an early breakfast, and 
 set out betimes for the burial of these rascals. Lance, did you 
 instruct one of the fellows to ride over at daylight to Mrs. Eve- 
 leigh s for the shovels ?" 
 
 The reply was affirmative. 
 
 "Very good. And now, men, the sooner you take your rest 
 
106 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 the better. To-morrow we must be stirring. There is much to 
 be done. Tom, do you give out a blanket to each of the ne 
 groes ; take one for yourself, and give Pomp another. Put the 
 rest into my room. You, Tom and Pomp, will sleep in the 
 shed-room, to be within call. See to the negroes below, before 
 you lie down, that they do not crowd into the fire. If let alone, 
 the blockheads will burn us all up. Have an eye to them. 
 We must build a few pole-houses as soon as possible. And now 
 to bed. Millhouse will you take some more rum before you 
 sleep ?" 
 
 " Not a drop, cappin." 
 
 " Help yourself, Tom, and put the rest safely away." 
 
 " T ank you, manssa," and Tom helped himself with a liberal 
 hand. Millhouse had already stretched himself out, and rolled 
 in his blanket. Frampton lay upon his, resting upon his elbow, 
 with his head upon his palm, and gazing demurely into the fire. 
 Porgy cast a dubious glance around him, then gathering up his 
 sword and holsters, was about to retire, when he turned and 
 said : 
 
 " Who has seen to the horses ?" 
 
 Frampton replied: 
 
 " I have fastened them under the piazza, captain, and given 
 them both corn and fodder. Mrs. Eveleigh s overseer brought, 
 over a supply to last a week." 
 
 " Ah ! all s right. Well, good night, men, and a good sleep 
 to you though I may as well tell you that the house is 
 haunted." 
 
 Millhouse growled from within his blankets, with something 
 of the tone of a bull-dog suspicious of a stranger. Frainpton s 
 rye brightened a little, but, except the " good night" with which 
 lie replied to the captain s, he said nothing. In a few moments, 
 Porgy, Tom, and Pomp, having retired to their several lairs, 
 the house was left in deep quiet, save from an occasional mm 
 n^ur that ascended from the negroes in the basement. 
 
 Our captain of partisans entered the chamber, and let .himself 
 down upon the pile of blankets which formed his couch. This 
 was spread before the fireplace, and he sat with his feet to the 
 blaze. He had disencumbered himself of his coat and small 
 clothes, his bootu and stockings. His sword and pistols lay be- 
 
MUSINGS MIDNIGHT ALARM. 197 
 
 side him, his saddle, over which one of the blankets was spread, 
 served him for a pillow. But for a long- time lie did not lie 
 down. His eyes were bent upon the fire, or slowly wandered 
 around the almost vacant chamber. It was a snug, but suffi 
 ciently capacious apartment, jprobably eighteen by twenty feet. 
 The walls still exhibited proof of a degree of pride and state, 
 which declared for a former wealth and taste, such as wore 
 strangely inconsistent with the present fortunes of the possessor^ 
 The panelling of wood over the fireplace still showed traces of 
 two landscape paintings in oil, done upon the panels with no 
 inconsiderable art. The framework around them consisted of 
 heavy carved work, and the pillars of the mantel-piece were 
 richly ornamented with carvings in similar style. About the 
 room still hung the dingy and shattered frames of pictures, 
 probably portraits, from which the canvass had been cut out. 
 It had probably been found useful for the meanest purposes, and 
 had been appropriated, with all other moveables of any value, 
 by the marauding British and tories. The glass was destroyed 
 in the sashes of all the windows. The shutters were mostly 
 torn from the hinges and carried off, probably destroyed for fire 
 wood. One of the planks of the floor had been taken up, and 
 lay beside the opening, very much hewed and mangled by the 
 axe. The fragments of an ancient mahogany bedstead lay 
 piled up in one corner, but it was evidently no longer available 
 for use. It had been that on which Porgy had slept when a child . 
 it was the bedstead of his mother. A bit of green cord still de 
 pended from a nail against the opposite wall. It had sustained 
 the picture of his mother ; that portrait of a fair young woman, 
 taken when she was yet unmarried, whose sweet smiling fea 
 tures, in the active exercise of memory and fancy, seemed still 
 to be looking down upon him. 
 
 Porgy knew not that the big tears were gathering slowly in 
 his eyes, and gradually stealing down upon his cheeks. He had 
 reached his home, but it was a home no longer. The home i? 
 made by the hopes which it generates, and he had survived all 
 those, of whatever sort, which came with youth and childhood. 
 The prospect before him was one of unmixed desolation. How 
 was he to redeem the mortgaged acres of his domain 1 How 
 was he to retain the poor remains of a once ample fortune 
 
198 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 What were his own resources for this task ? What were left 
 for him to do, and where was the agency, external to himself, 
 by \ihich to effect the difficult achievement. The embarrassing 
 straits of his condition had made themselves apparent to him, 
 most fully, on the moment of his return. But for the unex 
 pected events of the day, and the generosity of Mrs. Eveleigh, 
 he must have gone, himself, supperless to sleep, and witnessed 
 the privations, in extreme, of his followers and slaves. 
 
 And the relief was temporary only. He must provide for 
 these hereafter ; and how ? By incurring new embarrassments 
 and obligations ; by adding to the weight of former bonds and 
 responsibilities ; by endeavoring to establish a credit without 
 being able to offer new securities. Was it probable that he 
 could do this, in the unsettled condition of the colony ? And 
 what securities could he offer to the creditor ? His lands were 
 mortgaged to an amount five times their present value. A fore 
 closure of mortgage at the present juncture would not only 
 sweep them away, but take his negroes also, and still leave him 
 a debtor beyond all means of payment. Even if time were 
 allowed him, could he hope, criminally ignorant as he was of all 
 the arts requisite to the good planter, to recover himself and 
 renovate his fortunes ? These were the subjects of his medita- 
 tions > and, chewing the bitter cud of thought and memory, his 
 heart almost failed him. 
 
 He stretched himself out upon his blankets almost reproach 
 ing the merciful fate which had saved him from the bullet or 
 bayonet of the enemy. His despondency for awhile, increased 
 with his meditation, until he felt that it would not be difficult 
 that very hour to die. To die, was to escape the cares, the 
 troubles and the humiliations to which he felt himself unequal, 
 and which he now felt to be inevitable from life, with such a 
 prospect as now grew up, dark and distinct, before his mind. 
 He would have found it at once easy and grateful to be roused 
 that moment with the call to battle. He would have rejoiced 
 to find a full finish to his cares, in a desperate onset, at the head 
 of his corps of partisans. " But the wars were all over," and 
 this refuge was denied him. He must live and how to live ? 
 The reflections that followed this inquiry, arrayed before him 
 the small operations of his little force of half-a-dozen negroes 
 
MUSlN(iS MIDXUJIIT ALARM. 199 
 
 in tlic rice fields, under the doubtful management of Sergeant 
 Mill house. True, the sergeant boasted of his merits as a rwe 
 planter, but was it so sure that he knew anything of the matter? 
 True, rice was the most profitable crop then made in the country, 
 but how much rice, even supposing the best management, and 
 the most favoring seasons, could be made by his half-dozen 
 negroes ] 
 
 But then came up the last suggestion of the sanguine Mill- 
 house. There was the widow Eveleigh 1 The widow was a 
 woman of goodly form, of gracious manners, of fine and inde 
 pendent estates. The widow had experienced his friendly ser 
 vices ; she had witnessed his valor in her cause ; he had perilled 
 life in her defence ; he had, in all probability, saved herself 
 from brutality, and her son from death. These were eminent 
 services. She evidently felt them. Why should he not aspire 
 to the widow 1 Was he not a man of person, portly, of com 
 manding figure, of good features, and quite young enough for 
 her. The captain stroked his chin with a sense of satisfaction 
 as he reasoned thus. But, just then, occurred to him the some 
 what disparaging reflection of the sergeant upon his legs. He 
 looked down at the members, which were thus assumed to be 
 impediments to progress, in direct conflict with their designed 
 uses. Surely, they are not so slender they are not shrunken 
 at all ; their dimensions are as great as ever. It is only in con 
 trast with the mountainous abdomen, that they appear inferior. 
 It was with some feeling of reproach and impatience that our 
 captain fixed his eyes on the unnaturally distended member 
 By what malice of fate was it that it had so greatly grown at 
 the expense of all the rest ! But he was kept from quarrelling 
 outright with the one region, by a timely recollection of the 
 famous allegory of Menenius Agrippa. 
 
 "No! no!" quoth he to himself. "This will never do. I 
 sould wish my storehouse differently shaped and sized, if only 
 for compactness and more easy carriage ; but it has done good 
 service in its time, and it is my own fault if I have used it a 
 little too much, and the other members much too little. Had I 
 worked them more, and it less had I suffered them less to 
 take their ease, I should now have nothing to complain of, either 
 m respect to their deficiency or its excess. It has distributed 
 
200 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 as liberally as it could, according to my allowance ; and they 
 according to Agrippa, have received the flower of all, leaving 
 to the belly the bran only. Certainly, it is a monstrous neces 
 sity that I should be compelled thus to carry with me such a 
 lag of bran. But what is to be done ? It is an inheritance 
 which one may not mortgage ; a store-house of which no sheriff 
 can deprive the possessor. This, at least, is a perfect right and 
 indefeasible !" and he laid his hands rather affectionately on the 
 region under description. 
 
 " At least !" he continued, " there is nothing insignificant about 
 it. It may not be comely to the eye, but nobody can regard it 
 as contemptible. It is not calculated to admit of the exhibition 
 of grace ; but what gentleman is ambitious of the renown of a 
 dancing-master. Still, it is something on parade. Nobody finds 
 fault with such as abdomen in a general. It embarrasses no 
 man whose position requires that he should move with dignity. 
 It guaranties the courage of the proprietor, since one is scarcely 
 apt to run in battle, with such extensive stores to carry with 
 him. No ! no ! sergeant, you shall not persuade me out of the 
 faith that my parts are at all in the way of my person. But 
 you may persuade me to the effort to place them properly in the 
 way of other people. This widow is a noble creature pleasing 
 to the eye ; amiable, I know ; well off, in respect of fortune. 
 She can redeem my acres. She can put me on my legs again, 
 however heavy my incumbrance. And why should she not do 
 so 1 She is young enough still for tastes and sensibilities, for 
 which mere wealth can never suffice. She has tasted of matri 
 mony, and does not seem to have suffered from the taste. We 
 must think more closely of this matter." 
 
 He laid himself back upon his saddle, and mused awhile ; 
 rose again, and sitting, pushed up the brands, and drew the 
 blanket over his legs. His meditations were now upon topics 
 and details more immediately pressing. 
 
 " To-morrow, we will bury these scoundrels. It will take us 
 till afternoon. We can do little more that day. The next I am 
 to dine with the widow. Humph ! After that I must set off 
 for the city. We must have ploughs and hoes, and a hundred 
 other things for the plantation. Millhouse must be pacified. 
 The negroes set to work. We must work, that is clear, though 
 
MUSI\<,V .MiDXlUliT ALARM. 201 
 
 the sherifl steps into the harvesting. Wagons, ploughs, hoos, 
 axes, rope, furniture I must have. By Jupiter ! I am resolved 
 to die in a feather-Led, if I can. Food we must have some 
 bacon for the negroes. I must have some wine for myself, and 
 tor a guest, and rum for the sergeant. " Kitchen furniture " 
 
 And he enumerated a score of other commodities. 
 
 " But, the d 1 ! How for the credit ! I must counsel on the 
 subject with the widow. A woman is never more flattered by 
 n man than when he solicits her advice. She usually gives him 
 more than he bargains for, but she not unfrequently gives her 
 self into the bargain !" 
 
 The meditations of Porgy, mixed as they were, carried him 
 late into the night. When every thing was still about the premi 
 ses he was wakeful. As a thought would occur to him with any 
 force, he would rise, fling a fresh brand into the fire, and sit up 
 watching the blaze ; lie down again for awhile, only to start up 
 once more to meditation. But nature asserted her necessities at 
 last, and his nostrils soon furnished audible echo to those sounds 
 which he had heard at intervals issuing from the neighboring 
 hall, and, as he assumed, from the proboscis of the sergeant. 
 Deep thus continued for a season to all unto deep, without 
 either paying much heed to their mutual responses. Once, it is 
 true, a more than ordinary explosion from the sergeant s nose, 
 seemed to disquiet the slumbers of the captain. 
 
 " Zounds !" quoth he, drowsing again. " How Millhouse does 
 snore! What an infirmity! peculiar, I believe, only to the 
 lower orders. Gentlemen never snore ! How is it with ladies ? 
 Wonder if the widow Evel " 
 
 And the conjecture remained unconcluded ; and the mutual 
 nostrils of captain and sergeant continued to respond to one 
 another, without causing any annoyance to either party. But 
 they were both destined to be aroused by an explosion of very 
 different character. They had slept some hours, soundly, as 
 was natural to men who had gone through such a day s work as 
 that we have already described. It wore on toward morning 
 was, indeed, but a short hour to daybreak when Porgy started 
 up with a ringing and a rushing sound, seemingly immediately 
 pt his cms. Millhouse was awakened at the same moment. 
 They were both upon their feet in uii instant. But tlu y were 
 
 9* 
 
202 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 in the dark. The fire had burned down in both apartments, and 
 Millhouse was stumbling in confusion over kegs and boxes, not 
 knowing in which way to turn, or whence came the sounds of 
 alarm which were still ringing in his ears. The captain wak 
 ened to instant consciousness of his situation. It was a pistol 
 shot he had heard the moment after he was awakened. He 
 detected a rush in the piazza, and fancied he could hear still the 
 distant tramplings of a horse. He could also hear the soft dull 
 pattering of the rain upon the roof of the piazza, There was 
 evidently an alarm. His holsters were caught up, and the 
 pistols detached in an instant. In another he was feeling his 
 way into the hall, whither he made his way without any diffi 
 culty, the whole region being familiar to his childhood. Sud 
 denly he encountered Millhonse. They grappled one another 
 with a mutual instinct, 
 
 " Speak !" cried Porgy, " or I shoot." 
 
 " Is t yon, cappin, is it ?" 
 
 " What s the matter, Millhouse ?" 
 
 " Dogs ! I don t know ! I jest heard bang ! bang ! and a 
 shouting, and a noise of feet, and started up to make my way 
 
 out, and heeled over or* of these d d kags ! I ve spilt some 
 
 blood in the affair, though it s only from my nose." 
 
 "A part that may well spare it," replied Porgy, not willing 
 to forego his jest at any season. " But, where s Lance ?" 
 
 " I ha n t seed him." 
 
 " Then it was his pistol. That fellow never sleeps. Stay ! 
 that window is open on the piazza. I see. He has jumped out 
 there. Let me find the door. We must see after him. He s a 
 
 sentinel among a thousand. Those d d negroes haven t 
 
 heard a word of the matter." 
 
 " Ham t turned over for a second nap, I reckon." 
 
 " Strike a light, MilMiouse ! Here s the fireplace, you know- 
 where you put the flint and tinder. I ve got the door." 
 
 Saying these words, Porgy unfastened the door and stepped 
 out into the piazza, All was still for a few moments. He could 
 see nothing. The night was dismally dark. The rain fell in a 
 settled shower. The wind sighed at a distance very mournfully 
 Porgy waited in silence. As the light kindled within, he drew 
 the door t\ that, it might offer no aid to a random bullet. He 
 
MUSINGS MIDNIGHT ALARM. 203 
 
 siood thus, beginning, in his only half-dressed condition, to shiv 
 er with the chilling night wind, when he heard a footstep upon 
 some decaying branches on the earth below. 
 
 " Who goes there ?" 
 
 "Lance !" was the reply, and the young lieutenant sprang up 
 the steps, covered with mud, and soaking with water, with a pis 
 tol in each hand. 
 
 " What the d 1 s the stir, Lance ?" 
 
 The youth s story was soon told. He was awakened by a 
 trampling and seeming confusion among the horses below, lie 
 listened, and, as the stir continued, he rose, found his pistols, and 
 was preparing to step out quietly, when he distinctly heard the 
 free movements of a single steed, as if guided round the house. 
 He immediately dashed open the shutter of the window under 
 which he lay, jumped out into the piazza and challenged. In 
 stead of an answer, the horse was put into instant motion down 
 the avenue. He fired twice, at random, at the object which he 
 fancied he could see, but he supposed without effect. He then 
 darted down the steps, and down the avenue" for a hundred 
 yards, but without result. The fugitive, whoever he was, had 
 succeeded in making his escape. 
 
 Of the mischief done, if any, nothing as yet was known. To 
 this inquiry all parties now addressed themselves. Porgy hur 
 ried on his clothes. Millhouse, penetrating the shed-room where 
 Tom, the cook, and Pomp, the fiddler, were doing any quantity 
 of sleep, endeavored to arouse them both at the same moment, 
 by punching them, as they lay side by side, with his sheathed 
 sabre in his one hand, and with the stump of his remaining arm. 
 His sword stirred Pomp into consciousness, while the stump of 
 arm, pressing closely against Tom s cheek, was instinctively 
 seized, by the sleeve, between the teeth of the negro, and held 
 with a growl, which made the sergeant a little doubtful of his 
 condition. 
 
 " Why, Tom," said he, " you re wolf-bit, and dog-bit too, 1 
 reckon, jedging by the sort of teeth you carry ; but let loose 
 old fellow, or I ll be drawing your teeth out with a handspike." 
 
 "Who dat?" quoth Tom. 
 
 " Git up, you varmint, and shake yourself." 
 
 " Gorrah ! I never guine git my sleep !" 
 
JO 4 WOODCKAFT. 
 
 " Sleep ! You ve liad enough for a month You sleeps like 
 a bear in cold weather." 
 
 " DLs Jah cold wedder nough for nigger. Ef I bin bear, Mass 
 Millh us, I nebber been let you go so easy. Wha de matter 
 now ? Wlm for you no let poor sodger nigger hab he leetle 
 .sleeps widout tir em up wicl stump and swode ?" 
 
 " Why, we re robbed and killed here, you skunk ; we ve had 
 a light with the tories, and they ve scalped Lance, and shot the 
 cappin in three places, his head, his belly, and his witals." 
 
 " Lord ha massy ! Shoot maussa jes as he git to he own 
 home at last. I never b lieb, eben ef I see em. Ho ! maussa, 
 I say, in der !" 
 
 And, shouting as he went, followed by Pomp, Tom, the cook, 
 now thoroughly awakened, hurried to join the group within the 
 hall. Torches were kindled, and all armed, the party sallied 
 out, having divided, one portion taking the front, the other the 
 rear outlet. The house was circled, the avenue explored ; horse- 
 tracks were found going forth, freshly made in the mud ; and an 
 examination of the horses showed one of them to be missing. 
 
 " Tis de raw bone black, Pomp. De same sawt of hoss I bin 
 see dat d n Bossick ride." 
 
 The proceeding was a sufficiently daring one. 
 
 " The squatter, Bostwick ?" queried Porgy, looking to Tom. 
 
 " Da him, maussa, sure as a gun." 
 
 "It maybe! Well!" compressing his lips. "He may ride 
 one horse too much for his own comfort yet." 
 
 " The foal of an acorn !" said Millhouse. " I reckon it was sar- 
 tain one of the chaps we font with yesterday, whether you call 
 him Bossick or what. And a mighty sassy fellow ! Why, cap- 
 pin, sich a thing hardly ever happened to us in all the cam 
 paigns." 
 
 " No, indeed !" 
 
 " It is a shame and a disgrace to us as sodgers." 
 
 " You forget that the war is over and we had no reason to 
 expect attack. But it s no use talking. Well it s ne worse. 
 He might have taken all, but for Lance. Millhouse, you sleep 
 like a tomb-stone, and snore like the seven sleepers. There s 
 no more sleep for any of us to-night. It must be near day 
 Tom, turn in and have us some coffee. Lance, send off the fel 
 
KKTUUX TO TMI-: TIKU) OF BATTLE. li J.M 
 
 low to the widow Eveleigh s for the spades and hoes. Tell 
 him to go to the overseer s house, and he careful not to disturb 
 the lady. Sergeant, will you take a little rum now, or wait for 
 the coffee ?" 
 
 " Well, cappin, jest to be a-doing, I ll do both." 
 " You were born to be a soldier, sergeant," replied Porgy 
 quietly, as he motioned to the liquor before him. Pomp was 
 already at hand with a gourd of water. But Millhouse drank 
 alone. Porgy had already turned to his usual resource, and 
 was crowding fresh tobacco into his pipe. Day dawned within 
 the hour, but very gloomily, and the rain, though slackened, sii 1 . 1 
 continued. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 ItKTUKN TO THE FIELD OF BATTLE. 
 
 TUK day, as was expected, opened in gloom. The sun made 
 i o showings that morning. The skies were enveloped in un 
 broken cloud and vapor, relieved imperfectly by a constant fall 
 of rain, which was of that cool, measured, deliberate sort, which 
 indicates unfailing resource, and a quiet determination to have 
 its own way. Our captain of partisans walked out into the 
 piazza, front and rear, without any sense of relief from either 
 quarter. The avenue in front exhibited a dreary aspect in spite 
 of the fact that it was composed mostly of evergreens. The 
 great oaks, grown together and arching above the track, each 
 wore its heavy streamers of gray moss, which drooped almost to 
 the earth with the great water-drops, like the old-fashioned pic 
 tures of winter, his big beard crested with icicles. Vacant fields 
 on either hand, fenceless and wholly uncultivated, added vastly 
 to the dreariness of the scene. Fog and cloud, vapor and rain, 
 were present everywhere, and made everything as gloomy to 
 the eyes of the spectator as it was to his thoughts. Those old 
 fields, should lie ever again see them smiling in corn 1 The old 
 house, whose timbers groaned beneath his tread, how long should 
 he enjoy its shelter 1 Should he ever, with any feeling of secu- 
 
206 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 rity, behold it gay with the joyous faces of his friends ? Was 
 not all the life-prospect before his mind as sombre and cheerless 
 as that before his eyes? While he mused thus, perhaps with a 
 wholesome bitterness having in it no small degree of belf-re- 
 proach, lie was joined oy Millhousc. 
 
 "These old fields, cappin," said the latter, extending the 
 stump of his arm, as he spoke, to the indicated quarter, " these 
 Jd fields will be sure to bring fine corn; they are all matted 
 ith weeds, and have been lying out so long. I reckon you 
 l:at ricollect when they were planted last ?" 
 . i-jt I!" Avas the ansAver 
 
 " But you hev ? seen em a-growing, cappin T 
 
 " I suppose so ; I can now see that they have been planted, 
 and I suppose in my time ; but really, my good sergeant, to say 
 that I saw them in a crop, or ever saw the crop, of any kind, 
 when I was professedly a planter, would be something of a 
 rashness 011 my part. Pray believe that I was a very foolish, 
 profligate person, who, in ceasing to be young, did not cease to 
 be foolish, and continued his absurd vanities and excesses to the 
 last. And I am telling you now, Millhouse, what has been but 
 too commonly the case among our young men of fortune of my 
 day. There were some exceptions, it is true; but the curse of 
 my generation was that our fathers lived too well, were too rap 
 idly prosperous, and though they did not neglect the exercise 
 of a proper industry in themselves, they either did not know 
 how to teach it to their children, or presumed on the absence of 
 any necessity that they should learn. We were to be affluent 
 in what they should leave us enough, in God s name, if we 
 could keep it but it is very sure that the best way to teach 
 one to value and to keep what he gets, is just to teach him how 
 to get it himself. He who has -not learned the one lesson will 
 fail in the other, and is apt to waste what he did not work for. 
 And now, my good fellow, don t say another word to me about 
 the crops in past seasons. I have really no wish to confess my 
 sins and follies to man as well as to myself and God. Turn in, 
 if you ave so disposed, and make your crops ; you say you know 
 how, and I am willing to believe you. I will assist you when I 
 can 
 
 " But don t you meddle, cappm." 
 
RETURN TO THE FIELD OF RATTLE. 207 
 
 " OIi, no ! you shall have full swing for a season, at least, and 
 1" will second you I will be your sergeant only. You shall 
 have a fair share of the spoils at harvest-time, and we ll continue 
 to live as decently as possible in the meanwhile. And that 
 reminds me that it is time for breakfast. That rascal, Tom, 
 because we broke his slumbers so suddenly this morning will be 
 jut df humor all day. Let s see to him." 
 
 iVIuihouse was not quite satisfied to have his mouth shut so 
 summarily by the frank confession of the faults and follies on 
 the, part of his superior. He was not content that a general 
 confession, however sweeping, should anticipate the details, one 
 by one, of Porgy s short-comings. He had a sort of inquisitorial 
 faculty for dragging out the truth, inch by inch, slowly from the 
 criminal, so that he should not escape a single pang which was 
 proper to his case ; and his deliberate purpose had been to take 
 the captain over his territories, field by field, and extort from 
 him at each some admission of fault or ignorance. It was with 
 a growl that he yielded to the very decided manner of his supe 
 rior which at once closed the door against further " question." 
 
 The day, opened as we have seen with bustle and confusion, 
 was destined to be a busy one. Breakfast was sullenly pre 
 pared by Tom, with whom the whole world had seemed to go 
 wrong from the moment when the stump of Millhousc s arm that 
 morning had made so free with his sensibilities ; and Pomp, 
 stupid rather than savage, was serving it up to our partisans, as 
 he had done the supper the night before, when Fordham, the 
 overseer, suddenly cantered up to the house. He had brought 
 with him the negro who had gone for hoes and shovels, with 
 some three or four others, similarly provided; for the purpose of 
 assisting in the burial of the outlaws. This was due to the 
 timely suggestion of the Widow Eveleigh, who, the night, be 
 tore, had given the overseer his instructions, and who had 
 expressed herself particularly anxious for the recovery of a cer 
 tain mahogany box, which she urgently counselled him to look 
 for in all the places in which the outlaws had been seen to har 
 bor during the day of her adventure. She did not tell him of 
 the contents of the *box, and had been silent, so far as he was 
 concerned, in respect to the paper which contained the memo 
 randa of JYPKewn, and the signature of that amiable pbilanthm 
 
208 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 pist. Fordham, accordingly, simply stated that a mahogany 
 box was missing containing fifty guineas ; and we may mention 
 in this place that Porgy, his followers, and the negroes gene 
 rally, all busied themselves in its search with as much anxiety 
 as if the property had been their own. But the labor vas una 
 vailing, and the search was finally given up as hopeless, after n 
 persevering scrutiny in swamp and thicket, hiding-place ar-o : 
 hollow, wherever it seemed possible or plausible to think Jb-it 
 the outlaws had penetrated. But to return. 
 
 Fordham was invited to share the breakfast, which he did 
 with right good-will. He was now told of the alarm which the 
 party had had, and the loss which they had suffered, of one of 
 the captured horses. 
 
 " Which one, cappin ?" demanded Fordham. 
 
 " A raw-bone black." 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 " Da Bossjck hoss, Mass Fordham," quoth Tom, putting in 
 confidently. " Pomp say he know de hoss, and John Sylbester 
 bin tell me de same t ing." 
 
 " He look like hoss I bin see Bossick ride one time." 
 
 " But you ain t sartin, Pomp ?" asked Fordham. 
 
 " He bin ride raw-bone black, one time." 
 
 " It may be," said Fordham. " Bostwick is not too good for 
 any villany ; and we have good reason to think it was by his 
 means that your niggers and Mrs. Eveleigh s was carried off to 
 the British. We don t know for sartin, but it s mighty like. 
 Now, I have hearn of Bostwick riding a raw-hone black, hut I 
 don t know that I ever seed him on the critter in my life. He s 
 a mighty cute fellow that never lets you git too near to him. 
 I m pretty sure he headed them rascals yesterday, yet I never 
 seed one man more than another that I could lay finger on for 
 him and be sart in. Yet I could almost swear a Bible oath that 
 he was one of them, and one of the worst. There was one on 
 them that called Jenny, the nigger gal, by the right name ; and 
 I reckon he was the one. He know d her well, and let the 
 word slip owawar s." 
 
 "Does not the fellow live somewhere *n this neighborhood 
 still?" demanded Porgy. 
 
 "Well, thar s no telling if lie lives anywhar. He s never tr 
 
RETURN TO Till-: FIELD OK HATTLTO. 1>09 
 
 be seen in these parts. I haven t heard of him for a year, posi 
 tive, from anybody that could sw ar they seed him. He s got 
 his family on the corner of Mrs. Ev leigh s land, and not far 
 from yours jest in the swamp, and not a half a mile from the 
 river ; but I reckon he s hardly there once a year. The family 
 never sees much of him, I m sartin." 
 
 " But that is one of his quartering places. We must roo . em 
 out, Fordham ; his family is as bad as himself. Has h any 
 sons ?" 
 
 " A lectle boy, only, and two gals. The boy is just ere ^ping 
 about. The two gals are most half grown one s about tv. f,ive, 
 I reckon, the other ten. But, Lord love you, cappin, then A no 
 rooting these people out. It would be the cruellest thinr that 
 you could do. They are so poor and miserable, and so humble, 
 and the poor wife s so sad and heart-broken, and owliappy, and 
 the gal children is so sweet, and so mighty pretty, particularly 
 the oldest, who s a born beauty, jest like the darter of some 
 great people. As for being as bad as himself, that s not so, cap- 
 pin, axing your pardon. They re good people, working hard, 
 night and day, and gitting none of the benefit of all that Bost- 
 wick aims or steals. He s hardly ever with em, and does noth 
 ing for em when he comes, onless for the oldest gal, and they 
 tells me that he pets her a leetle, and according to his humors. 
 It s a hard case for them that they have to do with sich a born 
 rascal ; but what s to help it 1 The poor wife can t get rid of 
 him now; and the poor little children they can only groan 
 and cry together, when they re by themselves, and take what 
 the marcy of God sends em, through the hands of their neigh 
 bors. You kain t think of rooting em out. Mrs. Ev leigh knows 
 jest as well as anybody what Bostwick is, but she has pity on 
 the poor wife and children. She gives them spinning to do, and 
 weaving, and the oldest darter is both mighty clever to work 
 and willing ; and it s through Mrs. Ev leigh that they gits on at 
 all : but for her, they d starve ; she feeds em, and physics em, 
 and clothes em ; and yit that black-hearted scamp, Bostwick, 
 has been about the worst inimy of her and her plantation, that 
 she ever had in thege parts." 
 
 " Well, Fordham, I m sworn to do this poor woman and her 
 children a greater charity than ever Mrs. E-eleigh has done " 
 
210 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 "All ! you kain t do that easily, cappin." 
 
 "I will!" 
 
 " What s that ?" 
 
 " I ve sworn by Acheron and Styx, to see Bostwick hung to 
 the first good swinging limb within half an hour after I lay eyes 
 upon hhn." 
 
 "And may God, in his mnrcy, grant you the strength and the 
 chance, cappin, to keep your oath ! That would be a great 
 charity I m consenting, to the poor woman and the little chicks; 
 and I m willing to take a hand in it, whenever you are ready to 
 tree the critter. Kf she was free of him, she wotfld do better, 
 for he brings her no help, and I m a-th inking takes away from 
 her all she can aim. Besides, people s afear d to hire her at 
 their places, for fear they ll bring him about em. Kf he was 
 dead and out of the way, she would be a thousand times better 
 off." 
 
 "We must pay her a sudden visit to-day try to ascertain 
 if he has been there lately, and when. He would hardly visit 
 the neighborhood without seeiner them." 
 
 Z3 O 
 
 "That s as it happens, and seems advisable. He wouldn t 
 irsk a hair of his head on a visit to them at any time, though 
 the niggers do say that he loves the oldest gal." 
 
 "And she s a beauty ?" 
 
 "A ivzal flower of the forest, cappin." 
 
 " Poor thing ! Why don t Mrs. Evcleigh take her home ?" 
 
 "She s afear d of the father s coming about the place; be 
 sides, the mother won t let her leave her. She says she s her 
 only comfort, and I reckon she is. She s a nzal sweet, smart, 
 and beautiful little critter." 
 
 " We ll see them coming back. You can guide us, Fordham, 
 for I pretty much forget all the routes in this quarter. And now, 
 to horse." 
 
 " But what s the need for you to go, cappin ?" demanded 
 Fordham and Millhouse in the same breath. "We kin bury 
 these blackguards, and look up for the box without troubling 
 you ; and you see the rain keeps on." 
 
 " A fig for the rain ! After soaking for seven years in rain, 
 and, indeed, all sorts of liquors, to talk to me now of another 
 soaking as a thing to skulk from. Shut up, my good fellows. 
 
RETURN TO TIIK FIKLD OF HATTLE. 211 
 
 Pomp, my horse ! Besides, liow do I know but that you may 
 Lave customers in the surviving robbers. A couple of stout 
 rascals, in ambush, would easily settle twice their number, for 
 your negroes could never be relied on. Ho ! Pomp !" 
 
 " Wha* mek you holler, maussa ? Enty you ;jee de hoss 
 ready by de tree. All ready but you swode and pistols, and yer 
 he is." 
 
 Thus Tom, with sword and holsters on his arm, expostulated 
 with his master against his stentorian utterance. The sword 
 was quietly girded about the waist of Porgy by Frampton, while 
 Tom followed with the holsters. A few moments, and the party 
 moved up the avenue, all mounted, even the negroes, who car 
 ried their hoes and shovels across their thighs, or up in air, aj 
 the Scythian and C-amanclie robber carries his spear, and wenl 
 forth better pleased with the idea of burying their dead, thai 
 with that of going into battle. 
 
 Their farther progress requires no detailed report. They 
 reached the skirmishing ground in due season, and reviewed its 
 aspects. The slain outlaws were found undisturbed where they 
 liad been left, and were buried where they lay. No coffin or 
 shroud enwrapped the forms of those who had cast themselves 
 off from social sympathies. Holes in the earth, some three feet 
 deep, beyond the reach of wolf and wildcat, sufficed to hide them 
 out of sight. And this was all. The negroes heaved up the 
 earth in mounds above them, and a stake, cut from the woods, 
 and driven down at the head of the grave, indicated to the way 
 farer the place of human sepulture, in that wild -spot, and remote 
 from settlement or church, very much as the wayside cross in 
 Spain denotes where the murdered traveller has perished. This 
 duty done, and the search after the lost box of Mrs. Eveleigh 
 proving ineffectual, our captain of partisans, some two hours 
 after noon, proposed to his party to return. All assented but 
 Lance Fiampton, who seemed to hesitate, and, by his manner, 
 reminded Porgy of the young man s obligations elsewhere. 
 
 " Ah ! Lance, by the way," said he, "ride over and see Mrs 
 Griffin and her daughter. It js but two miles and a half from 
 us where we stand, and a shorter distance, by twice that num 
 ber, than if you go back with us, and then proceed. You can 
 return at night, or not, as you think proper. Of course, we 
 
212 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 want you, if you can be spared, and will keep supper for you till 
 bedtime. Go, my good boy, and present my best respects to 
 the good widow. You remember, I spend the day, to-morrow, 
 at Mrs. Eveleigh s, and shall wish you to accompany me. Mill- 
 hoiuie will go, also, while Tom keeps watch at home. The next 
 day, or soon after, I shall, probably, be compelled to set out for 
 the city to get supplies. There now, my lad, you have all my 
 plans for the present, and can make your own arrangements 
 accordingly." 
 
 " Ef you are riding over to the widow Griffin s now, lieuten 
 ant," said Fordharn, turning to the youth, " be so good as to say 
 to her, that I ll send the peas and inyons [onions] over to her 
 Saturday night that s all." 
 
 And Lance Frampton rode off alone. 
 
 " And now, Fordham," said Porgy, " lead the way to the 
 wigwam of the squatter. Let us see his family at all events, 
 and find out, if we can, whether he has been there lately." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 BOSTWICK, THE SQUATTER, AND HIS FAMILY. 
 
 IT is time that we should return to the recesses of the swamp 
 where we left the squatter, Bostwick, up to his neck in water. 
 No condition could have appeared more hopeless no situation 
 more humbling or perplexing. It is, perhaps, the case commonly, 
 that the habitual criminal is habitually an unthinking person, 
 else how should the utter profitlessness, and certain perils of 
 crime, fail to impress themselves upon the mind of him who 
 toils in his vocation of sin, and is taught by the bitter experience 
 of each day the terrible truth that the only wages he can earn 
 in this employment, is shame and scorn, and foes, and ignominy 
 and death ! What had been Bostwick s profits in his career ? 
 As he muttered more than once to himself, standing on the cold 
 and gl oorny hammock : 
 
 " I have nothing to show ! M Kewn kin show, and Moncrieff 
 
THE SQCJATTEU, BOSTWICK, AND MIS KAMILV. 2 In 
 
 kin show; they ve got the money and the goods; they re great 
 men in the world and rich ; but I I ve got nothing but the 
 danger, and the cold, the iTsk and the exposure, the empty 
 pockets, and the swinging limb ! Empty pocket ! No ! not so 
 bad as all that, either. The widow said there was fifty guineas 
 n her box." 
 
 The miserable wretch found his temporary consolation in this 
 reflection. His comrades had mostly perished. He had nearly 
 shared their fate. The plunderers were stripped. They who went 
 forth to shear, came home shorn. Even his horse and rifle had 
 disappeared in the grasp of the partisans; and they were a 
 class of people with whom long experience had taught him that 
 it was very dangerous to meddle. But the recollection of the 
 widow s strong box consoled him for the moment. That was 
 safe. He had hidden it beyond the search and suspicion even 
 of his comrades, and he chuckled to himself, even in that gloomy 
 hour, at the cleverness with which he had succeeded in doing so. 
 Fifty guineas were in that box. Fifty guineas ! He began to 
 calculate how long they were to last, according to the life of 
 riot, drinking, and gaming, which he led. He made no appro 
 priations of any portion to his family. They had no such need 
 as himself. Fifty guineas ! and the papers. They, too, must 
 be in that box ; and these papers, according to the inadvertent 
 admissions of M Kewn, were important to his safety. 
 
 The d d skinflint !" muttered Bostwick to himself " He 
 
 shall pay for them or hang ! He talks of me hanging, and to 
 my face, jest as ef he had any right to make me feel onensy. 
 But we ll see who has most right to hang. We ll see who s the 
 rope guine to fit best. The mean, dirty scoundrel. I see what 
 he s after; but I ll put a spoke in that wheel will upset his 
 carriage, ef he don t walk a safe track with me. He s got 
 property. He s a great man now-a-days. He s bought a plan 
 tation here jest alongside the widow s, and who but he, with his 
 niggers and lands Ha ! well ! He s played a mighty strong 
 hand in the game, but there s a trump he ain t got, and ain t 
 guine to git till he agrees to share the stakes. Let him try ! 
 He was quite a clever chap among the British. Lord ! how 
 they loved one another"; and he s now to be quite a clever chap 
 among the rebels ! Well, it s for me to say, I reckon, how much 
 
214 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 love is !;o be lost atween em. Only wait \ I ll wait jesl as 
 long as it suits me. But now for the box." 
 
 And threading his way out of the swamp, with the ease of 
 one who had never walked on freer or firmer ground, he pro 
 ceeded to the spot in the woods above, not a hundred yards 
 from the place where the widow s carriage had been brought to 
 a halt, in which the box had been safely hid away. 
 
 He found it even where he sought. He held it up to the light 
 of the stars. It was heavy, but it was locked. The key had 
 never been taken from the possession of Mrs. Eveleigh. Her 
 bunch still remained in her pocket. She had not been searched ; 
 but would have been, in all probability, but for the unexpected 
 defeat of the enterprise of the outlaws. But the want of the 
 key suggested no difficulty to our squatter. At one moment lie 
 had lifted up the box to dash it upon a stump, the short process 
 being always the most grateful to the ruffian for attaining his 
 object. But he arrested himself. 
 
 " The guineas will scatter, and I kain t afford to lose the 
 ugliest on em." 
 
 He felt for his knife. It was gone lost. 
 
 "Never mind!" he muttered, "I kin wait till I git to see 
 Rachel." 
 
 Rachel poor Rachel his wife ! He thought of her at that 
 moment, not as one whom he loved or cared for, but as the crea 
 ture from whom he might find service obtain the implement 
 which should give him access to a more precious treasure. He 
 started off with the box under his arm. His swiftness of foot 
 seemed uudimmished by the day s fatigue. He was one of those 
 sinewy, lean, elastic, beings of iron hardihood and endurance 
 who seem never to have enjoyed life, yet are equal to all its 
 requisitions. In training, like most people of the same descrip 
 tion of life in the same region, he was an Indian could outwind 
 a horse in a day s journey, and never appear to suffer from thirst 
 or hunger. He had short cuts through swamp and thicket, 
 known to few besides himself, and in half the time occupied by 
 our partisans on horse, he made his way, on foot, to the swamp 
 margins of the plantations of Mrs. Eveleigh and Captain Porgy. 
 Within half a mile atood the wigwam T)f his wretched family. 
 [< occupied a place h<uf hidden in a little clump of woods, noar 
 
THE SQUATTER, BOSTWICK, ANT) HIS FAMILY. 
 
 which stretched a small cornfield of a few acres, the old decay 
 ing stalks crumbling over the spot where they had feebly grown, 
 lie again concealed his box, this time in the hollow of a cypress, 
 when about to emerge from the cover of the swamp. He 
 did not approach his own dwelling without the greatest caution, 
 lie knew not what sort of customers he was to encounter in the 
 neighborhood. Winding about the woods wherever a cover 
 could be found, he gradually drew nigh to the rear of the habi 
 tation which he skirted cautiously. The hum of the spinning- 
 wheel alone reached his cars from within. He stole up to the 
 habitation and peeped through a crevice between the logs. We 
 will follow his example. 
 
 The wig wain was one of the meanest sort of log-houses, not 
 more than sixteen by twenty feet built of slender pine poles, 
 which were already greatly decayed. The spaces had been 
 closed with clay, but this had mostly fallen out. Originally, the 
 house had been clap-lwirded (a large, coarse, and inferior shin 
 gle) with split pine, and fastened down by wooden pegs. Much 
 of the rooting had decayed, and the openings were thatched 
 with broom-grass and pine straw a very slight and imper 
 fect shelter for the encounter with our March and September 
 winds. But there was an additional protection in a great live 
 oak, of a thousand generations, which overspread the roof on 
 the northern side, the branches resting upon it, and, when stirred 
 , : >y the wind, making such a strange scraping along the clap 
 boards as if a score of wild cats were striving to scratch their 
 way as would have startled one, not familiar with the noise, 
 with a thousand staggering apprehensions particularly at mid 
 night. But our squatters family heard nothing, or if they did, 
 the sounds had become companionable, and thus agreeable. We 
 are not sure that the wife of the squatter did not find it a great 
 relief to listen to the disordered branches, in the long, weary 
 hours of the night, when the children were all asleep, but when 
 the blessing of sleep was denied her eyes. The poor, subdued, 
 faint-spirited woman, she sat within, knitting her worsted and 
 cotton into thick stockings for the ungrateful wretch who peered, 
 unsuspected, between the logs, and beheld her occupation. 
 
 She was a thin, frail, pale-faced body, with fair complexion 
 still, of soft, sad eyes, the only remains of a once girlish beauty. 
 
210 WOODOllAFT. 
 
 Her look almost vacant, was fixed upon me rfre. Her dress 
 wus of the plainest sort of blue homespun her own manufac 
 ture but it was scrupulously neat and clean. She seemed to 
 work unconsciously, as if from habit; yet her fingers traversed 
 the needles and passed the threads with the rapidity of one 
 whose whole soul was in the task. At the other corner of the 
 fireplace, stood her eldest daughter, whom she called Dory. 
 Her proper name was Dorothy. It was her spinning-wheel 
 whose song saluted the ears of Bostwick as he approached the 
 house. Dory, although still but twelve years old, was an adept 
 at all her labors. Nobody it was her mother s boast could 
 spin better than Dory, a finer or a stronger thread. And Dory 
 could weave also, quite as well as her mother. The child was 
 nearly as strong. Indeed, responsibilities, at an early period, 
 had matured her mind and body very equally. They grew 
 together, and therefore both grew strong-. The child might have 
 passed for a girl of fifteen, so well was she developed. When 
 you looked at her face she seemed still older there was such 
 a sad, settled, and profound expression in the sweet symmetrical 
 and chastened features. She was very fair, though she bore the 
 fuel from the woods, and the water from the spring. She w T as 
 tall, and, moving to and fro about the spinning-wheel, she ex 
 hibited a natural grace such as an humble life like her s seldom 
 displays. Her hair, a rich auburn, curled and floated free in 
 long silken tresses, having escaped from the massy folds in 
 which she commonly kept it bound. She, too, was clad in the 
 simplest homespun, and her naked feet and ankles, in conse 
 quence of the scantiness of her dress, were conspicuous upon 
 the floor. But the flour was kept tidily clean. If there was 
 poverty in the dwelling, there was evidently a natural purity 
 also, which reconciled the spectator to the scene. 
 
 The other children of the squattor, were asleep in a pallet in 
 one corner of the room. There was no separate apartment. 
 Dory slept with her mother in the father s absence, and when 
 he came home she crouched in with Bet, her younger sister, 
 and Benny, the infant boy. The mother s bedstead, was a 
 rude frame work of pine, clumsily executed by n country car 
 penter. There was a single pine table in the room, and four 
 chairs, bottomed with cowhide, This w r as all the furniture. A 
 
THE SQUATTEE, BOSTWJCK, AND HIS FAMILY. ML? 
 
 fe\v gourds containing seeds and spices liung against the walls. 
 A slielf outside sustained the water bucket. In a corner of the 
 lireplace was an iron pot, and in a nook of the -chamber was 
 leaned a frying-pan. The fragment of a mirror, without frame, 
 a trimmed bit of glass, of a few inches at most each way, was 
 fastened by pegs against one of the logs over the fireplace. 
 
 Such was the picture, lightened up fully by the blaze from 
 half-dozen pine knots, which hissed and sparkled in the hearth, 
 giving light and heat equally. The very poor, in all the south, 
 rarely use candles, or those of their own making only. The 
 squatter s wife had hers, it is true, a small supply, made of 
 tallow and myrtle wax, but these were to be used only on 
 particular occasions. They were made by Dory, and were too 
 precious to be wasted. But this was not a consideration with 
 Bostwick. lie consumed them whenever he came home, with 
 little heed to the poor child whose means were so small, and 
 whose labors were so heavy. Yet the miserable wretch loved 
 this child as well as he could love any human being -infinitely 
 more than he loved the mother. lie was sensible of her beauty 
 her eye sensibly impressed him. To her he was never brutal, 
 seldom harsh. To all others of the family he was cold or trucu 
 lent. Something in her glance seemed to impress him with 
 respect, if not awe. She did not shrink from, yet did not seek 
 to conciliate him. She felt, and resented by her withdrawl, 
 his brutalities to her mother. She submitted to his endearments, 
 yet never returned them. Her instincts shall we not say her 
 thoughts were all at war with his nature, and the habits in which 
 he indulged. She had courage, too, and, never once forgetting 
 that he was her father, she could yet venture upon terms of 
 rebuke and reproach, at moments when his excesses revolted 
 her, such as became singularly impressive, spoken by the lips 
 of a child, and in the unsophisticated language of the heart. 
 Still he loved her, after a fashion loved her with a sort of rev 
 erence, as she represented to his eyes that higher phase of so 
 ciety to which he felt that he himself could never aspire, and to 
 which, as is commonly the case w: th the class to which he be 
 longed, he looked ever with feelings of envy and desire. 
 
 He announced his presence to the inmates of the hovel, by a 
 peculiar whistle through the logs. The girl looked quietly at 
 
 10 
 
218 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 her mother, but said nothing. The woman started up, all in a 
 terror, and hastened to draw the bolt of the door arid give him 
 entrance. 
 
 What ! Bostwick ! You ve come ! " 
 
 "Don t you see me? Well, Dory, hev you got nothing to 
 say to me? " 
 
 "Howdye, father," and the wheel was stopped, and she offered 
 her hand. He kissed her, but not the mother; and frequent 
 repulses had taught the latter not to attempt to bestow her kisses 
 upon him. 
 
 " You re all well, I reckon?" 
 
 "Yes!" faintly answered the woman, as she resumed her seat 
 by the fire, and her knitting, after drawing a chair for him. 
 Dory resumed her spinning at the same time. 
 
 "What! the d 1," said he, "a n t you guine to git me 
 some supper?" 
 
 And he flung himself into the chair, and looked fiercely at 
 the wife. 
 
 "We hain t got much, replied the woman, meekly, rising at 
 the same moment and proceeding to one side of the chimney 
 where some clothes were hanging, forming a sort of curtain. 
 
 "Much or lectle, let s hev it; I m hungry to kill. Got any 
 thing to drink ? " 
 
 "Not a drop, but I ll make you some coffee. Sam, el you ll 
 wait for it." 
 
 "Wait! Humph! Git it! But first, let me hev a big knife, 
 ef you ve got one, and your tinder-box and steel. " 
 
 "Why, what s become of yours, Sam?" 
 
 "What s that to you? It s lost somewhere." 
 
 And you ve been in the water, Sam ! " 
 
 "Yes? hev you got any dry clothes for me?" 
 
 "There s the old scarlet breeches of the officer, and the coat, 
 g am 
 
 "Won t do; scarlet won t do for my wearing now. That 
 time s gone. You must dye them clothes, before I can wear em. 
 Dye em blue or green, either." 
 
 "You come on foot, father?" queried Dory. 
 
 Well, ef I did, Dory, I reckon foot was given me to come 
 on." 
 
THE SQUATTER BOSTWICK, AND HIS FAMILY. 219 
 
 " But you hev n t sold Black Ball? " 
 
 " Sold him! Yes! Perhaps! a sort of mortgage, I reckon; 
 but what s the matter? Suppose I hev sold him, who s to ax 
 about the bargain? Mind your own business, child." 
 
 The girl looked at him, quietly, and the brute turned his eyes 
 upon the fire. He somehow couldn t meet her glance. The 
 mother, spreading the table the Avhile, with a rare inexperience, 
 took up the inquisition. 
 
 "And where s your rifle, Sam? You didn t bring it with 
 you?" 
 
 "Look you, woman, I didn t come here to answer questions. 
 Suppose I left horse and rifle in the swamp, it s what I ve had 
 to do a thousand times, and I had my reasons for it; only do 
 you recollect, keep your tongue close when you talks to other 
 people about my horse and rifle, and about me, too, ef you 
 please. You don t know how soon you may be axed. And 
 look you, Rachel, when you ve got to answer, see that you do it 
 yourself. Don t leave it to Dory. You kain t trust her. She 
 don t love her father enough, to say what may save him from the 
 inimy." 
 
 " But you ve got no inimy now, father. Why should you have 
 an inimy? Don t they say it s peace, now? " 
 
 "Peace! As ef there was any peace for me! I tell you the 
 whole country s sworn agin me, only because $ wants to git my 
 living out of it. But that s neither here nor there. You mem 
 ber, now, you don t know nothing about me : ef you re axed, 
 you reckon I ve left the country. I hain t boon here. I ve got no 
 black horse remember that in preticklar! That s enough! 
 Where s the knife I axed you for? " 
 
 " It s here !" said the mother, handing him a clumsy blade, set 
 in a common wooden handle. He looked at it scornfully. 
 
 "It s the best we ve got," said the woman, apologetically. 
 
 "And good enough, too, for all you want with it. Now, git 
 the coffee ready by the time I git back." 
 
 With these words, grasping knife, flint, steel, and tinder-box, 
 he rose and hurriedly left the dwelling. The moment he had dis 
 appeared, the mother said 
 
 "I wonder whnt he s after now. I m afraid it s no good. 
 Lord, ef he d only stay quiet at home, and make corn for his 
 
220 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 family; but there s no such comfort for us, Dory, I m afeard. 
 He s got the habit of going off, and doing God knows what ; and 
 we must only work as we kin, to keep from starvation." 
 
 The girl was silent for a spare, and the mother, in the mean 
 time, spread the table, got out some cold meat, and kneaded the 
 dough into a hoe-cake, Avhich was set promptly before the fire to 
 bake. She had resumed her seat, when Dory, pausing at her 
 wheel, remarked quietly and gently, but with that air of certainty 
 which truth, simplicity, and earnest conviction will inspire, at all 
 times, even in a child, and which crown its words with a degree 
 of authority : 
 
 "I wouldn t be asking father any more questions, mother. 
 It does no good, and only makes him angry. He don t mind 
 what we say, and w r e can t help it when he loses anything, 
 lie s always losing, and coming home poor and wanting; and 
 he don t like to tell us how he came to lose. He s in some 
 great trouble now, and you d better not speak to him about it. 
 1 reckon he s not going to stay now he s come; but 1 wouldn t 
 ask him." 
 
 "Ah, Dory, it s easy for you to talk so; but when I know 
 when I know 
 
 Here the mother sobbed and wiped her eyes with her apron. 
 What did she know? and why did she forbear to declare it? The 
 girl had no answer and no inquiry. The wheel whizzed round 
 more rapidly than ever. The mother spoke again. 
 
 "It s fifteen years a most sence we were married. Then lie was 
 so fond of keeping at home. Then he wasn t so tierce and fretful 
 as he is now. Then he didn t drink and there wasn t a more 
 active person in the world, in the cornfield. Oh ! it was a cruel 
 day when he fell into the hands of Dick Jeffords a cruel day. 
 He s never been the same man sence. Dick Jeffords taught him 
 all that he knows of wickedness taught him to drink taught 
 him to 
 
 Another pause, and sobbing and wiping of the eyes. 
 
 "But Dick Jeffords is dead, mother," said the girl. "Don t 
 you talk so of him." 
 
 "And why shouldn t I talk of him, when he was the cause of 
 all the mischief " 
 
 "Hush! mother!" with a warning linger, said the child 
 
THE SQUATTER S TREASURES. 221 
 
 pointing toward the door. "Her keen ears had distinguished iho 
 light footsteps of the squatter. The mother stooped to turn her 
 hoe-cake, and the wheel continued its evolutions even more rapidly 
 than ever. 
 
 OHAPTEE XXXIV. 
 
 
 THE SQUATTER S TREASURES, KNOWN AND 
 
 THE squatter, meanwhile, armed with knife and tinder-box, 
 hurried away to the edge of the swamp, eager to examine his 
 casket of ill-gotten treasures. He drew the box of Mrs. Eveleigh 
 from the hollow of the cypress, and upon a little bank in the 
 swamp, surrounded by a wall of forest and swamp, thicket, shrubs, 
 vines and trees, he proceeded to strike a light. It required but 
 a few moments after this, to pry open the cover of the box, which 
 was much better suited to a lady s toilet, than for the purpose of 
 keeping or securing a treasure. The guineas were the first objects 
 that compelled his attention. They were contained in a small 
 linen bag. He counted them religiously, and then proceeded to 
 turn over the rest of the contents of the box, which was pretty 
 closely packed with papers. He was able neither to read nor 
 write. He took for granted that the paper, which M Kewn so 
 much desired, was among them, but the point was one beyond his 
 capacity to determine. 
 
 "It s here, I reckon, safe with the rest; but won t he pay for 
 it when he gits it." 
 
 His curiousity was satisfied, if not his cupidity. One would 
 suppose that his first act would be to convey to his wife and chil 
 dren a small portion, at least, of the golden spoils in his posession, 
 But he was too selfish and to wary for that. His cunning did not 
 suffer him to risk, in their hands, any proof that might 
 facilitate his detection. It seems that some suggestion did 
 arise in his mind, prompting him to dotach a guinea, to be 
 given to Dory. He spoke of her affectionately, and turned the 
 
222 WOODCKAFT. 
 
 glittering com, separated from "hipile," between thumb and 
 forefinger. 
 
 "But where s the use?" he muttered; "and ef they was to ax 
 where she got it, what is she guine to say? " 
 
 He restored it to the heap, restored the bag to the box, with 
 all tl c papers, and restored the box to the hollow of the cypress, 
 the base of which was encircled by a thick shrubbery. This 
 done, he made his way back to the cottage, where his supper 
 of bacon, corn-bread and coffee already awaited him. He flung 
 the knife down upon the table, and proceeded to eat, but had 
 scarcely begun, when he commanded that the spinning-wheel 
 should stop. 
 
 "The blasted noise keeps a body fr^om hearing anything. 
 Ef an inimy was at the door, nobody could know tell they 
 bur&Ud in." 
 
 The girl obeyed, put her cotton into the basket, and removed 
 the wheel to a corner of the room! She then disappeared be 
 hind the curtain of clothes, and when she again came forth, and 
 drew near the fire, he perceived that she had a book in her 
 hand. Dory had been taught to read by her mother, and loved 
 her book. The eyes of the squatter did not suffer her long from 
 sight, 
 
 "A book!" said he, "and what sort of book is it, you ve 
 got?" 
 
 "It s the Holy Bible, father." 
 
 "The Holy Bible ! and what do you know about the Holy Bible, 
 and where did you get it, I want to know? You hain t been 
 spending money, or your airnings, upon a thing that s no account, 
 Lev you?" 
 
 "No, father; twas given to me by Mrs. Eveleigh." 
 
 "Well, she might hev given you something to be more useful 
 to you. She s rich; she might hev given you some good clothes, 
 I m a-thinking, ef she d ha wanted to do a good thing for you. 
 But these great rich folk are all as mean as h-11 ! " 
 
 "Mrs. Eveleigh ain t mean, father; and she has given me 
 clothes," replied the child. 
 
 "She has, has she? what? the frock you ve got on, I reckon." 
 
 "No; I made that myself. She s given me good clothes tc 
 Wear when I go out, and on a Sunday." 
 
THE SQUATTER S TREASURES. 223 
 
 " Sunday ! as cf there ever was a, buiiday for a poor man ! Let 
 "me look at the book. " 
 
 She handed it to him without a word, and he furm-d it over 
 curiously. It was not a costly book; had it been had the edges 
 been of gold, and the back richly adorned with the same metal 
 it is quite probable that the perverse wretch would have been 
 tempted to throw it into the tire. As it was, he thrust it back 
 into the child s hands, saying : 
 
 "And what s the good of it to you ? You kain t understand it 
 even ef you reads it. " 
 
 Oh? yes I can, father." 
 
 "Let me hear you read some thar , jest where the paper s 
 been turned down. I ll see ef you ain t been reading how to curse 
 your own daddy." 
 
 The child gave him but a single look, but it made him restless. 
 He could not meet the clear, calm glance fixed upon his own. He 
 turned his gaze upon the fire, but repeated 
 
 "Read, I say let s hear what sort of bible Taming yor re 
 a-getting. Read where you ve put the mark. That a man s own 
 children should turn agin him ! " 
 
 The child gave him another look, so simple, so expressive of 
 a calm, unspeaking, submissive sorrow, the most touching of all 
 sorts of reproach : then turning to the book she began to read 
 from the New Testament, the Acts of the Apostles, the first 
 chapter, just where the leaf had been turned down; but scarcely 
 had she got through three paragraphs, when the squatter started 
 up, having by this time finished eating, and, swallowing a pint of 
 coffee at a gulph, he cried out : 
 
 "That s enough ! It s mighty good, what you re reading, I m 
 a- thinking, for a gal child. But it s no use. There s no apostles, 
 now-a-days. At least, I never hear tell of any merracles now, or 
 I reckon I might have a chance of being saved myself. But, 
 without a merraeie, \ m pretty much past saving, so it s no use to 
 try. Shut up, Dory; you kin read to your mammy after I m gone. 
 I must be off." 
 
 "What!" cried the poor mother, "you re not a guine, Sam, 
 at this late time o night." 
 
 "And what should I stay for? Don t I know there s none of 
 you hev any love to spare for me here." 
 
224: AYOODCIiA-FT. 
 
 " Oh ! don t say so, Sammy ; don t ! " 
 
 Pooh ! Git out ! Don t suppose I m fool as well as scamp. 
 You re too full of good books and good women here to have 
 any likings for sich as me. Kiss me, Dory, you re a good child 
 for a gal. I don t say you shan t read the book the widow give 
 you, only I don t care. You may read, for the good twill do 
 you. Twon t do me none. Blast all the gifts of your rich 
 people. They only burn the heart out. What s good you kin 
 git out of them, is what you kin take ! I m off; and look you, 
 Rachel, mind what I say. Ef you re axed, you don t know 
 nothing about me. You ain t seed me you don t know when, 
 and, as for a horse, you don t reckon I ve had one for a year, 
 not since the blasted men of Harden carried off my bay trotter. 
 Blast all their two legs for ever for it. Don t you let Dory say 
 nothing. She don t know how to speak sensible in such cases. 
 Good-by, Dory." 
 
 And he AY as gone gone out into the darkness lost to sight 
 as to hope. Not another word of kindness or farewell. None 
 in fact, to the poor woman who followed him to the door, as if 
 entreating for it. Not even a glance to the poor children sleep 
 ing on the pallet, the eldest of whom, awakened by the unusual 
 voice, raised herself up in the bed, and looked, but did not dare 
 to make herself heard. She had old experience of blows, sud 
 denly and sharply administered, to admonish her against any 
 childlike and loving forwardnesses. Besides, the watchful mother 
 had seen, and pushed her back, under the scanty covering, 
 with 
 
 "Lie still, Bet, it s pappy !" 
 
 Dreadful sound with which to quiet the baby ! the baby was 
 quiet for the rest of the night. But he was gone, and then the 
 woman sat down and wept over the fireplace. 
 
 "Ef he had only shaken hands, Dory, and told me good-by, 
 my child; but no ! He wouldn t care ef I was on my cooling 
 board to-morrow." 
 
 The girl began quietly to read the chapter in the Acts which 
 she had attempted at her father s bidding, and her low, soft voice, 
 still that of a child, delivered the inspired sentences in -good time, 
 and with very tolerable discretion, but without emphasis, and 
 with the simplicity of one who did not fully comprehend what 
 
THE SQUATTER S TREASURES. 225 
 
 she was reading. When she had finished and put away the book, 
 the mother said 
 
 "I know it s good to hear and to read the blessed book, but 
 my heart ain t in it. I don t feel it at all. I feel only that I am a 
 very great sinner, very poor and miserable." 
 
 "We must pray now, mother, you know." 
 
 And the two dropped upon their knees, while the child alone 
 audibly uttered Our Father. " 
 
 Let us leave them to such sleep as God vouchsafes to the suf 
 ferer, more sinned against than sinning, and follow the footsteps 
 of the squatter, reckless of the peace he outrages, and quite inca 
 pable of conceiving the purity he leaves behind him. 
 
 * Acts of the Apostles, " quoth he, as he darted forward in the 
 direction of the highlands. " They sarved for their time. There s 
 no Apostles now, I reckon, to do any more acts for poor people. 
 Sich as preaches to us now don t help much. Lord ! what war- 
 mints. I ve hearn a hundred that hadn t any more sense, and I 
 reckon, warn t no better, ef the truth was known, than myself. 
 They talk and they talk, about it and about it, and all what they 
 says don t consarn us at all, and don t suit. One speaks mighty 
 big about luxuries and fine linen, yit I never seed one yit that 
 warn t ready to swig the best of liquors at a rich man s table, and 
 to eat onteli he was ready to burst ; and which of em ever 
 refused the best of English broadcloth for his back. There was 
 Joe Downs, and Ephraim Sparkin, and Jake Frisbie, and a hun 
 dred more I ve know d, that was all jest too lazy for any work, 
 and so they set up to be apostles ; living from house to house, 
 never paying for nothing ; never refusing good feed and liquor, 
 and jest talking things they didn t onderstand. No ! the days 
 for Apostles is at an eerid, and men does just what act suits em 
 best. So I does mine. Taint so good as it mout be, but ef I 
 can git back the old Black, with fifty gould guineas in hand, and 
 what I kin squeeze out of M Kewn, I ll do for awhile yit. It s a 
 resk to try, but what s to be done? I shan t walk when I kin ride, 
 and ef I take, its only my own." 
 
 Such were the meditations which led to the attempt of the 
 squatter. We have seen how it succeeded. Once more mounted, 
 though with the pistol bullets of Lance Frampton whistling about 
 his ears, and he felt his strength and courage equally increase 
 
 10* 
 
226 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 He never thought to return to the cottage. He felt very sure 
 that it would soon have a score of visitors. He had .striven hard 
 iO. disguise and concealment, hut his instinct taught him that lie 
 VV.C.M he suspected. The neighborhood would he quite too hot, 
 in a few hours, for his safety. He gave it a wide berth, accord 
 ingly, and making a circuit, which carried him far above the 
 miserable hovel which his family occupied, he proceeded to de 
 scend the country, making an oblique progress toward the Edisto 
 Let us return to Porgy and his party. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 HOW MILUfOUSE REBUKES THE EXTRAVAGANCE OF PORUY. 
 
 THE poor woman, the wife of the squatter, was half-scared to 
 death when she saw the squad of our partisans approach her 
 dwelling. Rho. at once conjectured that the squatter had been 
 at his old tricks, and that the enemy was upon his footsteps. 
 Cadaverously pale, trembling in every limb, she staggered to 
 her bedside, and sank upon it, faintly exclaiming as they ap 
 proached the house 
 
 " Oh ! Dory, they ve come after him." 
 
 " Lie down, mother, and let me speak to the gentlemen," said 
 Uie little girl. 
 
 " You, Dory ! oh, no ! You remember he told me, you were 
 not to speak at all. Come back from the door, I tell you. Don t 
 you say a word." 
 
 " Tut you musn t look so scared, mother. They ll think some 
 thing wrong if you re so pale and trembling. Don t be afeaid 
 We haven t done anything wrong, and we don t know any 
 thing of father s doings." 
 
 "Hush, child, you musn t be talking. There they como 
 Oil ! my God, what is to become of us ?" 
 
 " Don t be afeard mother ! God won t let them hurt us." 
 
 " Oh ! how do you know, Dory ?" 
 
 " I believe, mother." 
 
PORGYS EXTRAVAGANCE REBUKED 7 
 
 " Believe ! oh ! yes, yo\i ll believe anything, even though the 
 soldiers kill us and carry ns to prison. Come back from the, 
 door, I tell you. I ll open it. I ll answer all they ax." 
 
 The child drew away, and rested her elboAvs upon the tabl. 
 as the party approached the house. A rather heavy knock 
 thrice repeated, threw the mother into a new passion of terror. 
 
 ic wrung her hands. 
 
 " Lord have mercy ! What shall we do 1" 
 
 " Open the door, mother, or let me do it. I m sure these peo 
 ple ain t going to hurt us. One of them is Mr. Fordham and 
 lie s a good man, you know." 
 
 " Mr. Fordham, is it ?" in a whisper, and, somewhat reassured, 
 rising and smoothing her apron. " To be sure, Mr. Fordham s 
 always been our friend." 
 
 Another knock, and the voice of Fordham 
 
 " It s me it s a friend, Mrs. Bostwick." 
 
 The poor woman took courage. The door was opened, ana 
 Fordham, without, stood in front of the party. He had alighted 
 from his steed, and held him by the bridle. Porgy was in the 
 act of letting himself down ; a performance, with him, usually to 
 be classed among his most deliberate acts. Millhouse kept his 
 saddle. The negroes were grouped in the rear. It was a most 
 formidable party, still, in the eyes of the squatter s wife. The 
 girl, Dory, looked on with some curiosity, but with the saddesr. 
 possible look of resignation. Porgy and Fordham threw the 
 bridles of their steeds to the negroes, and proceeded to enter the 
 dwelling at the invitation of the hostess, who was tremulous with 
 solicitude. 
 
 " This is Captain Porgy, Mrs. Bostwick perhaps you may 
 remember him before he went into the army." 
 
 " I ve seed the captain," said she humbly, "but can t say that 
 1 should recollect him." 
 
 " Very likely, my dear madam," responded the captain cour 
 teously, taking off his cap, and entering. " In the last five years 
 I Ye grown out of my own knowledge one of the few men of 
 the army, madam, who fattened on starvation. Your daughter, 
 Mrs Bostwick." 
 
 " Dory, sir, my oldest/ 
 Dory ! Is that her name t" 
 
J28 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 " For short, capfain. Her given name is Dorothy. 
 Porgy took rhe offered hand of the child, and looked to Ford- 
 ham significantly. Fordham nodded his apparent affirmation. 
 Por<ry, still holding the child s hand, proceeded to seat himpelf 
 on a chair which the officious hands of Mrs. Bostwick put beside 
 him. Dory had already perused the lines of his countenance, 
 which, not wanting in manly beauty, though with some defects, 
 \vfi3 at the same time benevolent and even tender in expression. 
 His eyes, small, but full of life, were also distinguished by good 
 nature, and his mouth was similarly marked. The child felt at 
 ease as she surveyed his face. A single glance sufficed for this. 
 lie was no ruffian, that she felt sure ; that he was a gentleman 
 by birth and education, her instincts at once assureu her. The 
 fact was sufficiently proved by the ease with which he inspired 
 confidence in both mother and daughter. Our captain was quite 
 as observant of Dory s features as she had been of his. The 
 singular beauty of the child struck him at a glance, and com 
 pelled consideration. She resembled her mother very little. 
 Who could she resemble 1 ? Was her father s face like hers? 
 Could that ruffian and outlaw wear anything in his countenance, 
 like the serene sweetness, the ethereal loveliness that formed the 
 life of that pale but glowing aspect ? The thing was impossible. 
 The conjecture was expelled from his thought the moment it 
 
 sought to enter. 
 
 Meanwhile, Fordham had broached the special object of their 
 visitation to the anxious woman, by asking for the whereabouts 
 of her husband. Her apprehensions were renewed ; her tremors 
 oceanic visible. Dory struggled out of the hands of Porgy, and 
 immediately placed herself beside her mother. The action and 
 its motive, so prompt and so instinctive, at once afforded to our 
 captain a clew to the strong moral courage and propriety of the 
 child. The question of Fordham showed the visit to be one of 
 quasi hostility. The party was to be confronted, not embraced. 
 The mother, in her moment of danger, must have the full sup 
 port of her children. They were not to give countenance to 
 those who threatened a father s safety, however erring. Of 
 course, such thoughts as these formed no argument for the un- 
 ripened mind of the child ; but the unerring instincts of a rightly 
 placed, and rightly sympathetic heart, sufficed to bring about 
 
PORCY S EXTRAVAGANCE REBUKED. 229 
 
 flip, instant conviction just as certainly as if it had been produced 
 by thought and reason. Porgy saw it all. 
 
 " Come back to me, Dory," said he mildly, extending his hand 
 
 You are not afraid of me ?" 
 
 She looked into his face, and immediately returned to him. 
 Confidence was reinspired in consequence of the sudden activity 
 of other instincts ; and the captain had her again, a moment after, 
 seated upon his knee. In the meanwhile, it was apparent that 
 Mrs. Bostwick either would not, or could not, give any account 
 of her husband. She was evidently greatly frightened, answered 
 wildly, and was seemingly so much distressed, that Porgy inter 
 posed for her relief. 
 
 " It does not matter, Fordham. Mrs. Bostwick evidently knows 
 nothing of her husband and we know nothing, Mrs. Bostwick j 
 but we thought it possible that he might, from his knowledge 
 of the people of the country, and the country itself, put us on the 
 track of a band of outlaws who were guilty of a great outrage 
 yesterday." 
 
 " Yesterday, captain ?" asked the woman in renewed terror, 
 and looking wildly to Dory. 
 
 " Yes, madam, yesterday ! They waylaid that excellent lady, 
 Mrs. Eveleigh, her son and Mr. Fordham ; seized them ; tied 
 the lady to her carriage, captured her wagon, and no doubt 
 would have robbed and killed all the party, if I had not provi 
 dentially come to their rescue, with a few friends, at the last 
 moment." 
 
 " Lord save us ! and yesterday !" 
 
 " We defeated the ruffians, and four of them were slain." 
 
 " Oh ! my God ! Did I ever !" 
 
 " We captured their horses ; yet, such was the audacity of the 
 surviving ruffians, that they ventured, one or more of them, even 
 to my dwelling last night, and carried off one of the best of the 
 captured horsofi." 
 
 You don t say ?" 
 
 Yes, madam ; a large raw-boned black !" 
 
 " A black !" and the conscious mother grew paler, and looked 
 to Dory. The child was pale also but the features were 01? 
 L jonles3. They said nothing 
 
230 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 " Now> Mrs. Bostwick, we thought that your husband might 
 possibly " 
 
 " Oh ! I m sure, captain, lie don t know nothing about H. 
 He s had no horse for a year, that I ve seed, and where he is, 
 there s no telling. It ain t often we sees him at home. He s 
 away all the time, ontell his own children hardly knows him 
 when he comes." 
 
 Porgy looked into Dory s face with an expression that won 
 the child s sympathies at once. His look, involuntarily seemed 
 to say, " Can it be possible that he is indifferent to such a dear 
 innocent, such a pure, bright bud of the wilderness as this?" 
 But he said nothing, and suffered the mother to proceed in a 
 series of rambling denials and disclosures which only served to 
 prove to both Porgy and Fordham, that the woman really knew 
 more of the husband and his recent operations than she so sol 
 emnly declared. Of course, neither of them suspected her of 
 any share in his proceedings, or any sympathy with them. 
 Fordham had already put our partisan right in his estimate of 
 the existing relations between husband and wife, and of the 
 humble heart and honest character of the latter. 
 
 The overseer, baffled in his effort to ascertain from the mother 
 {**, hing with regard to the recent visits of the squatter, now 
 addressed himself to the daughter. 
 
 " And when did you see your daddy last, Dory ?" 
 
 The child turned her eyes quietly to the querist, but before 
 she could reply, Porgy exclaimed 
 
 " No ! no ! Fordham ! " That won t do ! Enough ! If Mrs. 
 Bostwick don t know, and hasn t seen, how should the little 
 girl ? But I have some questions to ask you, Dory, and you 
 must answer me. 
 
 And he looked into her eyes with a look which taught her 
 that there was no snare, no danger. 
 
 " You spin, I hear, Dory, and weave, and knit, and sew, and 
 do a great many clever things. Now I m in great want of sew 
 ing, spinning, weaving, and knitting. I want woollen cloth, and 
 c.otton cloth, and thread, Dory, and a great supply of stockings. 
 See what a big foot I ve got two feet, you see, and both of 
 them are in great straits for want of clothing. Will you knit 
 for me, Dory, and spin for me, when I beg you 1 I shall want 
 
PORGY S EXTRAVAGANCE REBUKED. 23i 
 
 both you and your mother s help in fitting up my poor establish 
 ment. I am no longer a -soldier ; and am about to become a 
 planter again, and you know what a planter wants. Now. my 
 dear, to begin 1 must have as many pair of stockings as mam 
 ma and yourself can knit for me between this and July. And you 
 must let me pay you for them in advance, that I may make 
 sure that you will do the work. Here, take this, Dory," thrust 
 ing a guinea into her hand, " and here is a kiss by way of seal 
 to the contract." 
 
 The little girl took the money without a word, but her eyes 
 instantly filled with tears, and she suffered her head to decline 
 on Porgy s shoulder. He kissed her again, and put her down, 
 and she immediately walked across the room to her mother, and 
 laid the guinea in her lap, and stood, during the rest of the visit, 
 with her hand leaning on her mother s chair. The good woman 
 was loud in her acknowledgments. 
 
 " God bless you, sir," she said, " you re very good to us. 
 Dory shall work for you ; she kin knit jest as well as I." 
 
 " She must do my stockings," quoth Porgy, " only she. You 
 mus n t touch them. I must have the satisfaction, when I wear 
 them, of knowing that she made them. I shall find work for 
 you, too, Mrs. Bostwick. You shall hear from me when I want 
 you. Good-by, ma am ; you are a good woman, and ought to 
 be more comfortable in the world. Good-by, Dory ; don t 
 forget me." 
 
 The child came up, and offered him her hand, which he took, 
 then stooping, kissed "her again, took a respectful leave of the 
 mother, arid led the way out of the house. Fordham followed, 
 but not before the wife of the squatter contrived to say : 
 
 " Oh ! Mr. Fordham, tell Mrs. Eveleigh, that I m so sorry she 
 was robbed and troubled on the road. I m so very sorry." 
 
 And she looked as if she felt that she herself was greatly to 
 blame in the matter ; thus satisfying the shrewd overseer that 
 she was well aware of, or at least suspected, her husband s share 
 in the transaction. When they had mounted their horses, and 
 were out of hearing of the house, Fordham said to Porgy : 
 
 Kf you hadn t stopped me, captain, I reckon we d ha got 
 out > Dory all about her father s coming, ef so be he had beeu 
 there " 
 
232 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 "Yes," answered Porgy, "or she would Lave been ma Re to 
 lie about it, and would thus Lave spoiled the prettiest mouth in 
 the world. No ! no ! Fordham. We must not demand of the 
 I hild the evidence against the parent. I was not unwilling that 
 you should ask the mother ; though after the thing was begun, 
 I felt that there was a degree of meanness about it, which made 
 me feel a little ashamed. Still it was desirable to have the 
 truth, and the wife of such a husband, might be supposed to be 
 somewhat used to lying for him, and to be a little blunted in 
 her sensibilities. But that child. She is the very picture of 
 innocence as well as loveliness. Isn t it a wonderful thing that 
 such a child should be born to such parents. How strangely 
 will the perfect plant, the most beautiful flower, exquisite in 
 excellence, and admirable in hues, spring up on the common 
 dunghill. She ought to be plucked from it with all haste, and 
 reared in a garden to herself. 
 
 Fordham could not altogether perceive the propriety of 
 Porgy s refinements. He thought his philosophy a little to< 
 strained for common use, but he was silenced by it. But Porgv 
 was not to get off so easily. He was now grappled with by no 
 less a person than his sergeant, Millhouse, who, sitting on horse 
 back, at the entrance, throughout the interview, had been a 
 curious but silent spectator of the scene. He suddenly turned 
 upon his superior, and said : 
 
 " Cappin, you gin a guinea to the gal to make you stockings ! 
 a whole guinea!" 
 
 " To be sure ! Well ! what of it, Millhouse V 
 
 " Why, Lord love you, cappin, that ought to buy stockings 
 enough for a regiment. Why four shillings would git you as 
 many for your own wear, as would last you from now to Christ 
 inas." 
 
 " Very likely, Millhouse. But, in truth, I did not givo thv 
 guinea for the stockings. I gave it for the child to buy her own 
 stockings, if need be, or whatever else she needs. I gaye i1 
 from my heart, Millhouse, and not from my pocket." 
 
 " Oh ! ay ! I see ! It was a sort of charity then, cappiii." 
 
 " Well, I suppose you may call it so." 
 
 " Of course, there s no eend to the supply where thai cairx 
 from ! Lori be uiarciful to them who ain t marciful to the* 
 
POEGY S EXTRAVAGANCE REBUKED. 233 
 
 selves ! You ll want all of them guineas before long. But I 
 reckon you ve li;ul jist sich a dream as poor Lisha Dayton, that 
 s arved with us at Georgetown, and was killed at that blasted 
 skrimmage at Quinby, where we lost so many good fellows." 
 
 "And what sort of dream had Elisha ?" 
 
 " Why you see, Lisha was always dreaming of good luck 
 and finding fortunes, though poor fellow, he had precious small 
 chances of luck at any time that ever I heard tell of. But 
 when we were at camp pon the High Hills, he somehow got 
 hold of a pair of pretty good boots, a leetle worn only, that he 
 tuk from a British ensign that he brought down with a bullet 
 on a scout. The boots was too fine for Lisha to wear, so he 
 agreed to sell them to Lieutenant Withers for nine shillings, in 
 the raal silver. The boots were worth a great deal more, but 
 that was all the money the lieutenant had, and there was nobody 
 else about that had any. So Lisha greed to take the nine 
 shillings ; and with that money jingling in his pockets, the poor 
 felloAv thought he d got the world itself in a string, and the two 
 eends of the string both in his own fingers. He thought so 
 much about it that he was constantly dreaming of buried money 
 and all sorts of great discoveries. One day he come to me ; 
 says he Millhouse, I ve had the same dream three nights 
 running. It. must be true. I m sure on it. It s of a great 
 heap of money buried on the Block House Hill. I seed the 
 hill in my dream, and the very trees, jest how they stand, above 
 the place where the money lies. I wants you to go with me 
 and git it. Says I, I don t b lieve in dreams. Says he, But 
 this is a true one. I d take bible oath on it, I m sure. And ef 
 you ll go with me and help dig, and let nobody else know, I ll 
 give you a whole quarter of the pile, and the pile is a mighty 
 big one. Says I, Lisha, them dreams is only making a great 
 fuol of you. And then he swore, and he was so sart in sure of 
 it, and he begged so hard with me to go and help him, that I 
 concluded to go ; but says I, * Lisha, as I tell you, I don t 
 b lieve in dreams, and if you ll agree to give me them nine 
 shillings, in hand, that you re a jingling in your pocket now, 
 I ll give up the quarter that you offer me oat of the buried 
 pile. When he heard that, he was a leettle slow to answer 
 * Then, says I, * you don t b lieve in your own dreams arter all. 
 
234 WOODCEAFT. 
 
 Then he swore a most outrageous big oath, and he said, It s a 
 bargain. So I made him give up the shillings, and I jingled 
 em in my pockets all the way we went ; and he pushed f ora d, 
 pretty fast ahead, for now he didn t seem to like the sound the 
 shillings made when they were in my pocket and not his own, 
 We had both of us pick and shovels, and sure enough he led 
 zactly to the place as he seed it in his dream; and the tarnal 
 fool had gone there before mid-day by his own self. Well, 
 says I, "Lisha, where shall we strike? Thar, said he, that s 
 the zact place. And into it I went with the pick. And into it 
 he went, like a strong man. And we picked the earth loose, 
 and the roots, and we shovelled and threw out the naked yel 
 low clay, jest as God had put it there, maybe, a million of hun 
 dred years before, until we both sweated like an overseer s horse 
 in fly-time. At the eend of two of the longest hours I ever 
 knowd in my life, Lisha jumped out of the hole, and says he, 
 
 with a laugh, What a blasted fool I am to b lieve in ad d 
 
 dream! So you are, says I. It s no use, says he, there s 
 no pile to share. I see it now. And so, as there s no treasure, 
 Millhouse, says he the bloody fool! you must give me 
 back my shillings. And as he said, I jest dropped pick and 
 spade, and put my ringers to the corner of my eyes, and I said, 
 Look here, Lisha, ef you sees gooseberries anywhere in them 
 two eyes. AVhy, says he, as we hain t found any money, 
 you ai nt guine to keep my shillings? Ain t I, then, says I, 
 The speculation in the dream was your own, Lisha, and I 
 worked only for the sartaiuty of the thing. You kin keep the 
 pile when you find it, but I ll keep the pile Iv e found already; 
 and I confess to you, Lisha, I m belter pleased to dig for my 
 
 money in a fool s pocket than in the side of a d d hard clay 
 
 hill like this ! Lord ! how he did rip and tear, curse and swear ; 
 but twant no use. I had the shillings, and he soon Famed 
 that it would call for bigger curses than was in his body to draw 
 the shiners out of my pockets. He gin it up at last, and then I 
 said to him, you ain t fit to keep money, Lisha, but I won t 
 be hard upon you. Here s three of your shillings back, jest 
 enough for you to jingle. They ll make all the music" you de- 
 sarves to hear. " 
 And, at the close, the recollection of his achievement prompted 
 
PORGY S EXTRAVAGANCE REBUKED. 235 
 
 a glorious burst of cacchination from the throat of our military 
 financier. 
 
 "A good story, Millhouse, and excellently told," quoth Porgy; 
 "and, pray, how will you apply it to our present purpose?" 
 
 "Why, easy enough, cappin! Don t you see, ef you ve got a 
 dream like Lishe Dayton, of a pile of treasure soinewhar to be got 
 only for the diggin , t won t be treasonable or ^righteous, el you 
 let me jingle in my pockets the rest of them guineas in your n." 
 
 "Humph!" muttered Porgy; "it would, perhaps, be just as 
 well, Millhouse, if I did ; but, with your permission, I ll wait for 
 the dream. Be sure of this, my good fellow, that, while you wield 
 pick and shovel, in getting in my treasure, you shall be quite wel 
 come to share my shillings, nor shall I envy you their jingle." 
 
 "Don t I know that, cappin? Tain t for myself I m a-speaking, 
 but jest for you and your gettings. I m afeard you ll want every 
 guinea that you waste." 
 
 Don t mistake, Millhouse. I waste no guineas. When I give 
 money, it is only that I may get a good interest for it. The true 
 man, Millhouse, does not live by money, nor by that which money 
 will always buy bread and meat. There is still better food than 
 that for which I more hunger ; and yet I know not the man living 
 who has a better appetite for good living than myself." 
 
 Fordham had been a quiet listener to this conversation, and 
 seemingly quite an interested one, but he now arrested it by recur 
 ring to what had been one of the objects of the expedition to 
 find, if possible, the route which the outlaw had taken who had 
 carried off the horse. 
 
 "There s no tracks," said he, " about the cabin, only those made 
 by our own horses. I reckon he hain t been to see his family on 
 horseback ; though I m thinking his old woman has seed him sence 
 the attack yesterday. She show d it by the scare we gin her. 
 He s not gone back after he got the horse. He s too cute for that. 
 We sha n t see him back, in these parts, I m a-thinking, till it s all 
 pretty much blown over." 
 
 Still the search was made. The party traversed the region, 
 along all the avenues which it was possible for the outlaw to pur 
 sue, assuming him to have steered for the cottage. But they 
 found no traces. And this was no vague search. Nobody who 
 does not know the woodman of the South can conceive the excel 
 lence of his eye in discovering the slightest traces upon the ground, 
 or through the forest, of the objects which he pursues. On horse- 
 
236 WOODCKAFT. 
 
 back, at a smart canter, he will pull up, dismount, and show you 
 where the deer or turkey has gone by, perhaps the night before. 
 He can, with very great approach to certainty, say what interval 
 has elapsed since the passage of the prey. His instincts are those 
 of the Indian. Taught in the same school, his eye and ear aro 
 wonderfully keen, quick, and discriminating. Knowing the quali 
 ties of our woodmen, the report of Fordham, Frampton, or Mill- 
 house, on matters of this sort, would always be quite conclusive to 
 our captain of partisans. But it was sunset before the scouting 
 was arrested. A little after that period, they reached the dwelling 
 of Porgy, and Fordham was readily persuaded to stay to supper. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 PLAY AND PAY. 
 
 It does not need that we should accompany the Squatter, bost- 
 wick, on his course to and along the Edisto, pursuing the u.nvn- 
 ward route, until it brought, him within sight of the <:v>an. 
 Enough that we find him there in safety after a little interval of 
 time. But there was one adventure, however, which occurred to 
 him on the road, and within seven or eight miles only of the spoi 
 where he had engaged to meet with M Kewu, and to bring the 
 negroes and the papers, should he prove successful in his attempt 
 upon the cavalcade of the widow Eveleigh. Stopping at a hovel 
 on the roadside for refreshment, he was surprised to come upon the 
 fellow, Tony Hines, the only other surviving member of -the gang 
 which he led on thai occasion. Tony, it will be remembered, had 
 succeeded in saving himself, when pursued by Porgy and Corpo 
 ral Millhouse, by taking to the swamp fastenesses before the two 
 
PLAY AND PAY. 237 
 
 partisans had got within striking distance. His terrors in the 
 flight had been such as to prompt him to such desperate efforts 
 as to kill his horse ; when lie resumed farther flight on foot, never 
 stopping on his downward route until it became physically im 
 possible to proceed farther. 
 
 Flight, fatigue, the want of food, and perhaps an already 
 diseased condition of the body, had resulted in a burning lever, 
 and, in utter exhaustion, he had sought shelter and succor in a 
 cabin whose inmates could afford but little of either. It was here 
 that Bostwick found him stretched on a miserable pallet of straw 
 in a state of extreme suffering. Physic and physicians were not 
 to be had in that sparsely-settled region. The patient died or 
 lived according to the strength of his constitution, or the decree 
 of Providence. " Yairb [herb] tea," was the only remedy of the 
 poor and simple population, and of this sylvan remedy the good 
 woman of the hovel was willing to provide any quantity, and did 
 pour it down the throat of the sick man, till he turned from her 
 with loathing; and he hailed the appearance of Bostwick with a 
 yell of delight, as it seemed to promise him what the old people 
 had denied a draught of cold water. Bostwick would have 
 supplied him from the bucket, but the old woman interposed with 
 hands and tongue. 
 
 It ll be the death of him, stranger. It ll check the perspira 
 tion and give him a chill to kill him." 
 
 "Let my old woman alone," quoth the husband; "she knows 
 how to doctor fever." 
 
 And the squatter withheld the beverage from the burning lips 
 of the patient. 
 
 "But what in the world s name brought you here, Tony?" 
 Bostwick curiously demanded. Rogues are naturally suspicious 
 of each other, and, finding the fugitive directly on the route to 
 the secret place of meeting with M Kewn, and only a few miles 
 from it, the squatter began to conjecture that there had been 
 some connection between the two, which had been withheld from 
 him. M Kewn, so far as he knew, had never seen Tony. He 
 had also been earnest in his injunctions to keep his creatures from 
 all knowledge of the party by whom he had been employed. 
 The squatter, fully assured of the dishonest and deceitful charac 
 ter of M Kewn, now strove by a series of circuitous inquiries to 
 
238 WOODCRAFl 
 
 probe the fugitive outlaw, and it was only after along 
 
 ination, carried on with very excellent skill, that lie arrived a*. 
 
 the conclusion, that in taking the route which he had pursued. 
 
 Tony had no other purpose than that of throwing as much 
 
 breadth of swamp and forest between himself and his pursuers, 
 
 as was possible, and that he really knew nothing of the Scotch 
 
 man. 
 
 Satisfied finally of this, the squatter promised to do for him 
 what he could; to try and procure physic and assistance; and, 
 comm^ndrng him to nature and the old people who sheltered 
 him, left him to the chapter of accidents. We must not suppose 
 that he abandoned him indifferently. It was not in his power, 
 in fact, to give iiim either help or consolation. He knew of no 
 remedies, being one of that class of persons who never had leisure 
 for sickness. Nor, even if succor could have been bought, had 
 he the means in money for the purchase. He had left behind 
 aim, in his cypress hollow, the strong-box of Mrs. Eveleigh, with 
 all his ill-gotten treasure, as well as the much-valued paper. A 
 few shillings sufficed Iiim for the expenses of the route, and lie 
 looked for the replenishing of his purse to the meeting with 
 M Kewn. He left his comrade accordingly, but not without 
 promising to bring him medicine and money on his return, which 
 he told him would not be long delayed. When he got to the 
 place appointed for his meeting with M Kewn, the latter had not 
 yet made his appearance ; but he was soon joined by Barton and 
 Drummond, persons of the brotherhood, who acted as aj^nts for 
 M Kewn, and who shared his spoils. They reported t\ trim 
 port sloop to be in waiting, standing ofF and on, and to bb brought 
 in, in a couple of hours, by a signal which had been agreed on 
 with the captain. 
 
 "But where s the niggers, Bostwick?" demanded Drummowd 
 
 "Niggers ?" 
 
 "Yes; M Kewn expected you to bring down fifteen or twenty." 
 
 "M Kewn expects other men to do things he kaint do himself. 
 
 "Why, that s pretty much the way with most people. But 
 have you got any?" 
 
 "Well, we must talk over them things another time. I must 
 eat and drink now. I m a most famished. I haint h&/ a decent 
 mouthful of anything for three days." 
 
PLAY AND PAY. 239 
 
 "The devil! Well, we can provide you. We re well off here. 
 Plenty of the good stuff -raal Jamaica, and as much grub as 
 would feed a regiment. Let s be off to the castle." 
 
 "Castle!" 
 
 "Ay, what you may call a castle, it s so hard to be got at; but 
 if you look for anything better than a canvass tent, in a deep 
 swamp, you re dreaming to no purpose. Come along. Barton 
 will stay here and meet M Kewn, and bring him along. He ll be 
 here after nightfall." 
 
 Drummond, one of the confederates, was the speaker, and he 
 led the way, on foot, to his swamp castle, which lay deeply im 
 bedded in tangled thickets near one of the mouths of the Edisto. 
 Bostwick kept 011 horseback as long as he could. A few 
 minutes riding lost them the cool, fresh breezes of the sea. Soon, 
 they were buried in a dense region in which the air seemed to 
 sleep like a lake in the hollows of the mountains. But the 
 change was not a disagreeable one at that season of the year. 
 In a little while, ignorant of the locality, you would have fancied 
 yourself anywhere but near the ocean, all was so still, so utterly 
 confined and shut in, and with the horizon within finger-reach. 
 A Mind path showed the way imperfectly, winding circuitously 
 ihrough lagune and thicket. At length, the two ascended a 
 -light elevation, and, through the shrubbery, Bostwick caught 
 glimpses of the dingy canvas which formed the tent of^the con 
 federates. They were now within the walls of "the castle;" a 
 ensile, indeed, of magnificence such as the works of art, in the 
 hands of man, has never yet displayed. The bank upon which 
 the tent stood was crowned with aged oaks, that spread them 
 selves out like great green canopies, covering all within their 
 reach, their white beards trailing to the earth, or sweeping in the 
 wind, like those of the Druid Bards, howling their songs of hate 
 and death in the ears of the tyrant Edward, as described in the 
 much undervalued ode cf Gray a production very far superior, 
 in all poetic respects, to the over-lauded elegy of the same 
 writer. Our live oaks are certainly patriarchal presences when 
 we find them of an age beyond the memory of man. These, in 
 the castled keep of our confederates, almost within siijht of tho 
 ocean, and within the influence of its salt atmosphere, would have 
 thrown into comparative insignificance, the "eastled crags of 
 
240 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 Drachenf ell s, " placed in close neighborhood with them. But 
 they were not alone. If the oak is the Druid priest, the ancient 
 patriarch, the Magnolia is the crowned king of the forest. There 
 were three of these sovereign forms within thirty feet of each 
 other, and alternating among the oaks, on the bank where the 
 tent of the outlaws for such, in fact, they were had been 
 raised. Not one of these trees was less thnn a hundred and 
 fifty feet in height, their great shafts rising up like columns, 
 straight as an arrow, and bare of foliage for more than a hundred 
 feet, then swelling into a mighty crown of green, darkly bright, 
 which the hands of May w r ould enliven, not enrich, with the purest 
 of her great white flowers. Myrtle and cane, the honeysuckle 
 and jessamine, and dog-wood, not yet in bloom, or even brighten 
 ing, grew, and were gladdened in the shadow of these protecting 
 potentates; while the billows of the sea, at the height of the tide, 
 wound in among the creeks, and freshened the hollows, even to 
 % the roots of these princes of the forest whom they were insidi 
 ously to undermine in season. 
 
 But the squatter had no eye for these objects. With him, as 
 v;ith most of the ignorant, a tree is a tree only; and in a region 
 which boasts of such a wilderness of trees, the most noble is but 
 little valued is cut down and cast into the tire without remorse 
 on the smallest occasion. Bostwick regarded the natural aspects 
 of the spot only with reference to their uses for the shelter of the 
 fugitive. He was not insensible to this feature of the " castle." 
 But the tent and what it contained more certainly apppealed to 
 his tastes. He w r as conducted into it by Drummond. Here they 
 found an old negro woman, a withered crone of sixty, who ap 
 peared to busy herself in cleaning pots and rinsing kettles. Of 
 these utensils there may have been half-a-dozen strewed about. 
 There was no table, or chair, or bed in the tent, but one or two 
 boxes, and a pile of cloaks and blankets, served to shj>w how the 
 inmates garmented themselves for sleeping. A capacious jug 
 was visible, standing on the ground, which Drummond bade the 
 old woman replenish with fresh water. A neighboring spring, 
 enabled her to do this in a few seconds, for the woman was brisk 
 though old, and moved about with very juvenile - celerity. 
 Whether through love or terror, her rulers had tavurht her equal 
 docility and activity. When she returned with the water, Drum- 
 
PLAY AND PAY. 241 
 
 mond threw open the box, and revealed several huge square bot 
 tles of Jamaica the great liquor of the low country during this 
 period, and for a goodly time after. 
 
 To drink, was a thing of course. It was the initiator} process 
 in those days of all society, high and low, of the palace and the 
 hovel. Bostwick enjoyed the double advantage of an incorrigible 
 head and an eager taste. He was one not easily satisfied, and 
 not easily suffering. Drummond was by no means a milk-sop 
 either, and the draught was repeated no less than three times in 
 the half hour which the two employed, cast upon the earth, and 
 chatting together, we may suppose, of the joys of knavery, and 
 the luxury of sin. After awhile Barton made his appearance, 
 just about dark. He was followed by a couple of sailors bring 
 ing in fish. Candles were lighted within the tent, and a fire was 
 kindled without. Around this the woman proceeded to prepare 
 supper. 
 
 "I wonder what keeps M Kewn?" queried Bostwick. 
 
 "Oh! he ll be here directly. Tiant time for him yet. But 
 let s be doing something till supper is ready." 
 
 "Well, I m consenting," replied Bostwick, readily comprehend 
 ing what the something meant. " Hev you any looks? " 
 
 Books meant cards in the vernacular of the forest. 
 "We d be without our salvation if we hadn t," was the answer 
 of Barton. Drummond, meanwhile, pulled out from the fathom 
 less bowels of the box a paper containing several well-thumbed 
 packs. 
 
 It is curious that all primitive periods, in all countries, are dis 
 tinguished by the passions for gaming and drinking, and by such 
 a degree of invention as will enable men to gratify both. The 
 fact illustrates the necessity of the race for mental exercise, and 
 for the excitement of the nervous system. And this is in what 
 we vulgarly and ignorantly call a state of nature, as if man, who 
 is a born creature of art, ever knew such a condition, in the 
 sense in which nature is commonly understood. But we must 
 not philosophize, having to deal with our present company. 
 
 "What shall be the marks? " demanded Drummond, throwing 
 himself clown beside the two, and spreading the cards before them. 
 
 " Ontell I see M Kewn, and git some money, I shill have to 
 run upon mighty small marks, I tell you," was Bostwick s an 
 il 
 
242 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 swer, drawing forth the few shillings that remained in his pocket, 
 arid detaching a single one from the rest. 
 
 " Well, it is a small p int," quoth Barton. 
 
 r " But when a man kaint run, you mur i let him walk," an 
 swered Bostwick, taking up the cards and proceeding to shuffle 
 The other two put up their shillings. In those days the moral 
 and philosophical games of brag and poker, now the favorites 
 where the shillings are forthcoming, were not known among the 
 people. It had not then been reduced to a science, the study 
 of one s moods at play a study upon which success at Brag 
 and Poker so much depends. The ordinary game with the 
 " little dogs," was one still known and still reasonably practised 
 among this class under the several names of old-sledge, seven- 
 up, all-fours, &c. ; and on the present occasion it was adopted 
 tacitly, not a word being said to decide the point on either hand. 
 The squatter, like most of his class, Avas an adept at this play ; 
 not only knew the game well, but had little adroitnesses which 
 increased the science, and sometimes remedied the deficiencies 
 of fortune. He could make the trump, and cut the jack when 
 not too impertinently watched almost at his pleasure. The 
 only qualification to this merit, was in the fact that it was shared 
 in pretty nearly the same degree, by his associates. They were 
 well matched, and, this being the case, but little room was left 
 to either to play the knave, out of his turn. They were in the 
 midst of the play when M Kewn entered. 
 
 " I m mighty glad you ve come, M Kewn," was the abrupt 
 and somewhat irreverent address of the squatter, " es I m jest in 
 want of the shillings. These chaps here hev pretty nigh 
 dr caned me of all I had." 
 
 " And a small all at that," laughed Drummond. 
 " A man s all is enough for him to lose at any time," muttered 
 the squatter, as Drummond took up his last shilling. " I m a- 
 looking to you, M Kewri ?" and he extended his open palm. 
 His manner was such as to impress the Scotchman with the no 
 tion that his more important game had been succesrful ; and, 
 though the familiarity of the squatter had now began to grate 
 upon his sense of the more dignified position to which he was 
 rifiing in the world, he yet, with a good-natured sarcasm, hand 
 ing him some money as he spoke, replied 
 
PLAT AND PAY. 2-18 
 
 c I should like to know, Bostwick, when you 11 cease to look 
 to me 1" 
 
 "Well, there s no knowing ; when I ve done with you I reckon." 
 
 Or I with you," responded the other, sotto voce ; and the 
 i . .k which spoke to the squatter at the same time, seemed to 
 MV that there should be no long delay in cutting the connection 
 the present affairs being finally adjusted. Bostwick grinned. 
 The parties knew one another and were fairly matched. 
 
 " Why, what s this, M Kewn ?" growled the squatter, as he 
 looked at the handful of coin, which the former had given him. 
 " Nothing but silver, and pretty much shillings and sixpences all." 
 
 " What would you have, man 1 You re betting shillings only." 
 
 " That s only bekase I had nothing better, and I must make 
 up my losses by tall betting. Give us some gowld, kain t you ?" 
 
 The humor of the request did not seem favorably to impress 
 M Kewn ; but it was one which he was not prepared to combat 
 openly at present. Nay, the very confidence with which the 
 application was made, seemed to say I know how largely you 
 owe me for my services. He handed the squatter three guineas. 
 
 " Twon t do, now, M Kewn. Make it ten. Don t be split 
 ting the hoecakc too thin." 
 
 " Wait till you lose them before you ask for more." 
 
 " But I ain t a-guine to lose em ; and its bekase I m guine to 
 win now, that I want to go to tall betting. There !" said he to 
 Drummond nnd Barton, and clapping down the handful of small 
 silver that he had received from M Kewn, " plank down agin 
 the heap, both on you." 
 
 The money was counted, and each of the challenged parties 
 faced it with a like sum. M Kewn, gazing on the squatter, 
 could not keep from showing, in his face, the feeling of scorn 
 and disgust which he entertained for him. The latter saw the 
 expression of his countenance, and read its full meaning. His 
 own glance, in reply, was one of mixed bitterness and derision. 
 The play, meanwhile went on. The parties played as uncon 
 cernedly as if nothing were at stake. Practice had indurated 
 them. Barton was drowsy, to all appearance, but keenly vigi 
 lant. Drummond was gay and garrulous, but not a point of the 
 game escaped him ; while the squatter, seemingly reckless and 
 indifferent at the same time, was saying to himself. " Thesu 
 
244 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 skunks would steal the eyes out of a body s head if he d let em 
 But I knows em." M Kewn seated himself upon the chest, and 
 gazed upon the three in silence. In a few minutes Drammond 
 cried out 
 
 " Seven up ! That s into }ou,-Bost!" and he raked up the 
 two piles with the coolness of one spooning up his uncooled 
 broth. The action was followed by the squatter casting down 
 the three gold pieces which he had just got from M Kewn. The 
 latter started up. 
 
 " What !" cried he, " you don t mean to stake the three upOD 
 the game ?" 
 
 " Why not, Squar ?" answered the squatter 
 
 " The devil ! And you expect my pockets to keep you sup 
 plied ?" 
 
 " In course !" was the cool rejoinder. 
 
 The Scotchman jumped up, hurried to the entrance of the 
 tent, walked out, was gone a moment, then returned and took 
 his seat upon the chest. It was not long before Barton gathered 
 up the stakes. 
 
 " Luck s ag in me," quoth Bostwick, " but every road I ever 
 seed has a turn somewhere. I must hev the guineas, M Kewn." 
 
 And, without looking round, he extended his open palm to 
 the person he addressed. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII 
 
 BREWAGE OF BITTER BEVERAGE AMONG THE BRETHREN 
 
 M KEWN started to his feet. 
 
 " What, the devil ?" he exclaimed, " do you suppose I m made 
 out of gold ?" 
 
 " If you was, how I should like the k inmg of you," respond 
 ed the squatter with a rare coolness. 
 
 . " Hark ye, Bostwick, do you mean that I m to find you guin 
 eas for you to stake by the handful on a rascally game of cards ?" 
 
 " In course ! But old-sledge ain t a rascally game, M Kewn 
 It s a mighty fine game, I tell you, and takes a mighty smart 
 
BREWAGE OP BITTER BEVERAGE. 245 
 
 sort of person to play it now. I reckon, ef so be luck wasn i 
 always agin me, I could beat you from Monday morning to 
 Sunday night, and never stop once to pray. Fork over now, 
 sensible, M F>rwn, and don t keep the boys waiting. Five 
 guineas will do." 
 
 " I must see you first." 
 
 "Oh! there s no seeing about it. I m here. You see me, 1 
 reckon. I m alive and kicking pretty sprigh too, all things 
 considerent, I ve been a-working in your business; that s enough. 
 Hand up the gowld, and shet up." 
 
 M Kewn seemed disposed to show obduracy. He rose and 
 again sat down, and, all the while, the hand of the squatter was 
 stretched out before him, the fingers working toward the palm. 
 Bostwick was playing more games than one. It was with the 
 most desperate reluctance that M Kewn conceded the demand, 
 and flung down five pieces of gold upon the ground between tho 
 players. 
 
 " Let it lie thar ," quoth Bostwick, " and kiver it, boys, if you 
 dare !" 
 
 M Kewn started up, almost furious. 
 
 "Bostwick, I warn you." 
 
 " Oh ! warn be d d ! I know s what I m about, M Kewn, 
 
 It s my money now, and I ve the right to use it jest as I chooses. 
 Are you down, honeys?" 
 
 "Faced, full point, Bost," answered Drummond. And fifteen 
 guineas formed the pile. M Kewn tried to look on, but couldn t 
 endure^ long. He darted up, arid sallied out of the tent. When 
 he returned, the whole pile belonged to the squatter, and his op 
 ponents were compelled to plead for a mitigation of stakes. The 
 stakes were now of silver. 
 
 "It feels so mean !" quoth the squatter, " to git back to white 
 money, after ye ve had sich a pleasant feel of the yallow. But 
 I m agreeable to anything." 
 
 And he dealt out the cards, threw up a knave, and ran out the 
 game in a jiffy, gathering up the sixpences with the air of a man 
 who is half disposed to regard the act as more troublesome than 
 compensative. A stop was put to the game by a call to supper. 
 Suppose this performance to be achieved, and the parties satis 
 fied, and the things removed. 
 
246 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 " Well, honeys," said the squatter, with still increasing audacity 
 " whenever the feeling of old-sledge comes strong upon you 
 I m the man to say, h ist away! I don t want to be carrying 
 off your gowld chickens, ef you re the men to call em back to 
 the old roost." 
 
 "Work before play," interposed M Kewn. "We ve got some 
 thing to do, I think, and the sooner we set about it the better. 
 
 "Well ! I don t know what you ve, got to do, M Kewn," cool 
 ly rejoined the squatter, "but ef you hev anything on hand to 
 trouble you, the sooner you get at it, the better. But my work s 
 done for this time, I reckon, and I ll play tell all splits, ontell 
 1 kin get another job that s profitable." 
 
 " You forget, you have not made your report about the last 
 job. You want your pay without performance. But you don t 
 get another stiver from me until I know what s been done. I 
 must be satisfied." 
 
 "And so you shell, soon enough, ef anything kin satisfy you 
 ]}ut there s time enough. Let us play awhile. I m in for luck 
 now, and I ain t guine to lose the chance." 
 
 "Let him git rid of his guineas, M Kewn," quoth Drummond. 
 " They burn in his pocket. He won t be easy till he empties 
 it," 
 
 " And then he ll not be easy till he fills it again," answered 
 M Kewn angrily. " Don t I know him ?" 
 
 "Ef you does, you knows a man that, when he s done his 
 work, must hev his rest," answered the squatter, with an air of 
 savage doggedness. "Look you^ M Kewn, when you knows all, 
 you ll wonder I ain t a tiger, or, it mout be, some worser wild 
 beast than that." 
 
 "Eh !" exclaimed M Kewn, with a stare. 
 
 "Yes! You may say eh! and look wild. But I ve seed 
 sights to make a man think of hell, and worse places." 
 
 "Come out with me, Bostwick, and tell me all !" 
 
 "I ain t guine to talk about it tell I m ready. Wait awhile. 
 Let s play, all of us." 
 
 "Play !" said M Kewn. "I m in no humor for play." 
 
 "E\\ I m in no humor for work," retorted the squatter. 
 
 "We ll play awhile," said Drummond to M Kewn, with an ap 
 pealing look ; at the same time, turning to the chest, he motioned 
 
BREWAGE OF BITTER BEVERAGE. 247 
 
 M Kewn to rise, and drew from it a huge black bottle of Jamaica. 
 "A drink all round before we play." 
 
 "I m agreeable to that !" answered the squatter; and the cups 
 were filled in a twinkling. Bostwick drained the fiery liquid in 
 its native state, disdaining the qualifying aid of water. All drank 
 M Kewn barely tasting the beverage. His one virtue of sobriety, 
 by the way, served to increase greatly the potency of his vices. 
 He still refused to play, but sat down sullenly observing tlu ! 
 others. 
 
 " I m for small points," said Barton, putting up a single guinea. 
 " I ll not drain my pockets in one fling to pleasure any man." 
 
 " Scared !" grinned the squatter. 
 
 " Well, a man might jest as well be, dealing with such a born 
 devil for gambling as you, Bostwick." 
 
 The squatter s self esteem was gratified. He gave a chuckle ; 
 and, hauling out all his guineas, raised them in a pile beside him. 
 One of them was put up to suit the resources of his comrades 
 They played. Luck still attended him ; and he was the winner 
 of game after game, until, at a significant glance from M KcAvn,, 
 Drummond and Barton both declared themselves penniless. 
 
 " Git more !" roared Oie squatter. " Borrow ! Thar s M Kewn. 
 
 "I don t lend a penny !" shouted the Scotchman. 
 
 " And I won t borrow," said Drummond, governed by the evi 
 dent wishes of M Kewn, rather than by any scruples of his own. 
 
 " Nor I !" echoed Barton. "It s only to lose. You ve sold 
 your soul to the devil, Bostwick." 
 
 " And a devilish bad bargain the devil has made of it," mut 
 tered M Kewn, " if he gave five shillings for the stuff." 
 
 " I reckon that s jest the price you put on your own soul, M 
 Kewn," was the sarcasm of the squatter; and, growing more au 
 dacious, he added, " and ef old Satan be the cunning chap that 
 people thinks him, he d not be apt to buy it at any price. It ll 
 come to him some day, of its own free will, at no cost at all." 
 
 M Kewn looked more and more savage. His face had actually 
 grown livid as he listened to the increasing insolence of the 
 squatter. Hitherto, the creature, though apt sometimes to say 
 an impertinent thing, had never shown any such consistent pur 
 pose of doing so. M Kewn could only account for it, by sup 
 posing such a degree of success, on the part of the squatter, in 
 
J48 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 his late operations, as had stimulated his amour proprc to a degree 
 even beyond the control of his fears or judgment. This being 
 the case, M Kewn was willing to tolerate a great deal ; but his 
 pride chafed greatly at the necessity of doing so, and what was 
 contempt before, in the feeling which he entertained for the 
 miserable wretch whom his cupidity had employed, was rising 
 absolutely into a sentiment of hatred. Unconsciously, vague 
 purposes of resentment and revenge were beginning to work into 
 his mind, to ripen into performances as soon as occasion should 
 offer opportunity for their due exercise. Either Bostwick did 
 not suspect the feeling he inspired, or was regardless of it. He 
 continued to play the reckless insolent ; cool, savage, scornful and 
 satirical in all that he said, as far as it lay within his capacity to 
 be so. And, with all his vulgarity and his educational inferiority, 
 he was still capable of making himself felt. That lie should 
 presume at all, was a sufficient cause of offence to M Kewn, 
 whose social pride was growing in due degree with the acquisi 
 tion of wealth. 
 
 Bostwick, stimulated by a sudden and unusual run of luck, was 
 vexed at being arrested in it. He was acute enough to couple 
 the refusal of Drummond and Barton to play any longer, with 
 the obvious wish of M Kewn, and he so expressed himself as to 
 make the parties understand that he saw through them all. He 
 knew that Drummond and Barton had money enough for play, 
 and felt sure that, if they had not, and desired it, they could 
 command, with even more facility than himself, the requisite 
 loans from the Scotchman. 
 
 " Well," said he, looking round him with a scorn that might 
 be really entertained "Well. I m about as poor a dog as ever 
 gnaw d a bone ; but, by Jiminy ! I m not so poor a dog as to 
 let any man say whether I shzll bark or not, jest as it pleased 
 him ! No ! Ef I m to hev a master, I ll choose one that ll let 
 me run or sleep when I wants to, and not rout me up because it 
 suits him only, and set me to barking ag in, when I ve lost all 
 tougue a ready in a long day s hunt. In some things, I knows 
 I m worse than a nigger, but bad as I am, I reckon I ll never 
 let any man put his collar round my neck." 
 
 "And who doe. that?" demanded Barton and Drummond in 
 a breath. 
 
BREW AU 1C 01- I; ITT 1C 11 1UCVICRAGE. 249 
 
 " Why, you, both on you. You aint half a man between you. 
 Here I knows you both wants to play, and will take to cards as 
 an old sarpent to a young frog : but, jest because M Kewn hero 
 has given you a look out of his gimblet eyes, you shet up, and 
 put on a righteous face, and swear agin your very souls, that 
 you re tired and don t want to play, and hain t got any more 
 money, and I don t know what other senses. That aint being 
 a man and a gentleman, any way. It s more like being a dog 
 and a slave, I say !" 
 
 " Don t you call me a dog and a slave, Bostwick, or I ll hurt 
 you !" growled Barton. Drummond only laughed merrily. 
 
 " Hurt will you ? Who s afear d ? You re barking up the 
 wrong tre* Barton, if you thinks to scare me with your tongue. 
 I could take the starch out of your jacket any day in three min 
 utes, ef you wants to try." 
 
 " Pshaw !" put in M Kewn, " no more of this ! Be still, Bar 
 ton ; and you, Bostwick, don t be a fool ! If you re fool enough 
 to play together, and gamble away your money when you ought 
 both to be earning it, at least don t be such fools as to quarrel 
 when your profits can only grow from your working together. 
 You, Barton, set off, and see about the schooner. The tide 
 serves, and she s either up or coining. See to her, and make 
 stowage of what you ve got, and that s a matter about which we 
 must talk together, Bostwick. You, Drummond, go with Bar 
 ton, and see that everything s right." 
 
 The two rose without a word. The squatter then 
 
 " Well, cf we re to hev a talk of it, jest you put out the Ja 
 maica, Drummond, that we shan t hev a dry time of it. M Kewn 
 is mighty apt to git thirsty when he talks of business, and J 
 work so hard to listen that it makes niy throat mighty dry too. 
 Heave out the liquor, will you ?" 
 
 " Plenty s the word," answered Drummond, doing as he had 
 been a^ked. The portly black bottle, square and capacious, 
 was put within reach. The negro woman just then brought in 
 a bucket of water from the spring. She was dismissed, and 
 Drummond and Barton soon disappeared, leaving the squatter 
 and his employer in sole possession of the tent. 
 
 11* 
 
260 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 BLOOD MONEY. 
 
 SCARCELY had the other parties all disappeared, when M Kewn 
 began 
 
 " I don t know what to make of your conduct, Bostwick, to 
 night. It s rather unusual, I must say, and quite different from 
 what, I think I have a light to expect. You have seated me 
 pretty much as if I were one of those ruffians that you have 
 sometimes employed ; and seemed to forget, my good fellow, 
 that it is I who am your employer ; not you mine !" 
 
 " Forgit it, you say ! No ! by Jiminy ! not a bit of forgitting 
 with me in that business," was the reply ; " but before I begin, 
 I ll try the Jamaica. It ll take more than you kin find 101* me, 
 M-Kewn, to make me forgitful of you and your business." 
 
 This was said in tones of singular bitterness, and with such a 
 look of scornful superiority as quite confounded the listener. 
 Meanwhile, the squatter resorted to the bottle, and poured out 
 the Jamaica, and dashed it with water, with as much delibera 
 tion, as if there were no other objects before him for considera 
 tion. At all events, he showed no regard whatever to the ob 
 vious impatience of his companion. At length, having drank, 
 and struck down the cup upon the chest, he turned to M Kewn, 
 and confronted him. 
 
 " And now for it," said he. " You wants to know about the 
 business, and how we got on, and what we ve got, and where s 
 the niggers and the papers, eh ! Well, now, look you, M Kewn, 
 ef, before I told you the leetlest word in the world about the 
 matter, I was jest to take this knife, and drive it up to the han 
 dle in that rotten heart of your n, I d make the right sort of be 
 ginning for sich a story as I ve got to tell !" 
 
 He suited the action, in some degree, to the words ; flourish 
 ing the blade of his couttau de cltassc, in singular proximity to 
 the eyes of his auditor. M Kewn was no imbecile. He was a 
 
BLOOD MONEY. 251 
 
 cool, firm man; not a hero, perhaps possessed of none of that 
 sort of bravery which springs tumultuously into appetite and ac 
 tion on the merest show of provocation but he could fig-lit 
 when need required, and could look calmly the ordinary danger 
 in the face. But the proceeding of the squatter was so entirely 
 unexpected the fellow had so uniformly shown himself the 
 submissive creature, to be bought and used at pleasure, by the 
 agency of drink or money and there was now in his face, such 
 an expression of vindictive hate and ferocious frenzy, that, if 
 the Scotchman did not actually quail with terror, he was cer 
 tainly most terribly confounded. 
 
 We do not pretend to say from what sources sprang this now 
 exhibition of conduct, on the part of the squatter, to one who 
 hitherto had been allowed to appear quite as much his master 
 as employer. It may have been the dictate of a cunning policy 
 to inspire the emotion of fear, the better to exercise future con 
 trol over the person from whom he was otherwise to derive but 
 little future service. The temper of the squatter, who had his 
 pride and vanity also, may have been driven to this degree of 
 desperation by the unconcealed contempt, and the too frequently 
 studied insolence of M Kewn. The rum he had been drinking 
 might have had something to do with his ebullition; or, it 
 might be, that the scenes through which he had gone, his own* 
 narrow escape, the death of four of his associates, the necessity 
 which he had felt of putting one of them to death with his own 
 hand these, together, may have combined to work upon his 
 brain, so as utterly to deprive him, for the time, of all the re 
 straints of judgment. 
 
 It is very probable that all the reasons above suggested were, 
 in degree, at the bottom of the novel demonstration which he 
 had made ; and that policy prompted him (for he had sufficient 
 sagacity to fathom the character of his associates) to employ his 
 natural and mixed emotions with a certain regard to his own fu 
 ture interests. Whatever the source of his speech and conduct, 
 they produced the effect of paralyzing, for a moment, the cold 
 blooded scoundrel, in whose hands, hitherto, had rested the reins 
 of full authority over the creature who now seemed to threaten 
 him. The picture appeared strangely to realize that German 
 fancy which represents the devil as serving, for a long time, in 
 
252 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 perfect submission, the conceited mortal out of whose hands h 
 one day wrenches the staff, only to break with it the head of 
 his astonished master. M Kewn absolutely gasped. He could 
 not summon words to answer ; and the squatter seemed to rise 
 even into dignity, as he certainly did into superiority, as, with 
 a calm and steady eye, he watched scornfully the effect which 
 he had produced upon the meagre, vacant countenance, and 
 the trembling frame of his confederate. 
 
 " Yes," said he, " M Kewn, ef I was jest now to stick my knife 
 into the softest part of your heart, and work it there with a heavy 
 hand, it would be only the right way to begin the telling of my 
 story." 
 
 M Kewn gathered strength to say but still in gasping ac 
 cents 
 
 " Why, you wouldn t kill me, Bostwick." 
 
 " I don t know but I ought to. Twouid be a mighty good 
 sarvice done to good people. I ought to, M Kewn, and ef I was 
 a good man myself, I d do it soon as eat." 
 
 " Why, what have I done, to put you in such a fury?" 
 
 " Done ! Listen ! Of the five men that went with me on this in 
 fernal expedition, there s only one now living on this mortal airth !" 
 
 " What ! Four !" recovering himself his terror changing into 
 astonishment. " You don t say that four men have been killed ?" 
 
 " Every man but two on us swallowed his bullet ; Bill Sykes, 
 Dick Norris, Hafe Burke and Jeff Brydges. Of all them good 
 fellows, there s not one on em, but s a-lying in the woods, and 
 all the ice in nater couldn t make em feel cold. You, and you 
 only, have been the death of them four fellows." 
 
 "Pshaw!" exclaimed M Kewn, in husky and half-choking 
 accents, " that s all nonsense ! I had nothing to do with their 
 living or dying. But how was the affair how did it happen ? 
 What was done?" 
 
 " Oh ! you re mighty curious to know ef we got the niggers 
 and the papers ! You don t mind much ef we was all killed 
 and sculped, so that you had your eends sarvcl. I know you, 
 M Kewn, and it s bekase I know how little you care what comes 
 of us, that I feel it in my heart to find my way with this knift 
 into your n. But I ain t givine to kill you yit ; kase you see 
 I m wanting more of your money." 
 
BLOOD MOXKY. -uu 
 
 The Scotchman laughed feebly, ami with effort*. 
 
 " You laughs, docs you, and I m telling you of four stout Inda 
 all convarted to carrion in your business." 
 
 " But that s no faul*. of mine." 
 
 " Whose, then ? Wasn t it your business ?" 
 
 "Yes; but I did not expect I did not wish that anybody 
 should be killed on my account." 
 
 " Ambushes, when men s got we pons in their hands, is very 
 likely to hurt people, and prehaps to kill em. These fellows are 
 killed, I tell you, four on em a-lying stark in the cold night, and 
 looking up, and never once seeing the stairs. And we did our 
 best. There s but one, of all of us six, alive now, beside myself, 
 
 and the d 1 knows how long he s to be allowed to keep in the 
 
 open daylight. I seed him not four hours ago, only seven miles 
 from here, with a fever on him hot enough to burn his brains to 
 a cinder." 
 
 " Who is he ?" 
 
 " Tony Hines." 
 
 " And he has a fever, and but seven miles from here ? And 
 what did you do for him ?" 
 
 " What could I do 1 It s all in the hands of nater. I m no 
 doctor ; I ve got no physic he must die or live, as it happens." 
 
 " We must do something for him. But seven miles. Where 
 does he lie?" 
 
 " At old Ephraim Smyzer s, the Dutchman. But we needn t 
 talk of him. Ev you ve got any physic to do him good, give it 
 to me, and I ll carry it in the morning. Let s talk of the other 
 matter." 
 
 He filled himself another cup of the Jamaica, sipped a little, 
 and, while M Kewn tried to compose himself, and prepared to 
 listen, the .squatter, though with evident dislike of the subject, 
 proceeded to unfold his history, in his own manner. 
 
 " We set the trap, and the widow walked fairly into it. The 
 carriage was ahead of the wagon half a mile or more, and Ford- 
 ham and the young fellow was on horseback. They rid ahead, 
 and when the overseer stopped to water at the branch, with the 
 young fellow on t other side of him, Bill Sykes lent him the butt- 
 eend of his rifle, and tumbled him into the branch. On fortunate, 
 Bill Sykes made no account of the lad, seeing he was more a 
 
254 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 boy than a man ; but the chap s as quick a varmint as ever look 
 ed through a green bush, and the moment he seed Fordham 
 down, and the man that down d him, the little fellow, setting on 
 liis horse, let fly at Bill with his pistols, first one shot, then t other, 
 though the first bullet was enough. Bill hadn t a word to say 
 arter that for any of his friends on airth. Then the young devil 
 wheeled about, and went off like a streak. But a shot from one 
 of our boys tumbled the lad s pony, and we captivated him and 
 tied him down. Fordham tried to git up, and he had two pistols. 
 but we put in, seasonable, and stunted him with another touch of 
 the rifle-butt, and he lay quiet enough while we tied him down. 
 The widow Ebleigh we took out of the carriage, and gave her a 
 hitch too - " 
 
 "Did you tie 
 
 " Yes, twas a needcessity, for the s arch, and the rest of the 
 business. Then we stopt the wagon, and made at the niggers. 
 They scattered, and we caught only seven of them - " 
 
 " You got seven, then ?" said M Kewn, feeling a little relieved. 
 
 " Got h 11 ! We took em, but couldn t keep em. For, 
 meantime, a nigger gal, name Jinny I know her well slipped 
 out somehow from the carriage, and hid in the bushes, and, when 
 we was a-running clown the niggers, what does she do, but cuts 
 her missis loose, and cuts Fordham and young Arthur loose, and 
 they gits possession of their own we pons, and the rifle of Bill 
 Sykes, and takes the woods on us. 
 
 " Now, Fordham is a great fellow in the woods, and where they 
 harbored we couldn t say. At last they got a crack at Dick 
 Norris, and bark d his limb with a bullet, but not to do much hurt. 
 Then our work was to begin. It s a long story to tell how we 
 snaked and foxed through the bushes, to git upon their rear. At 
 last, llafe Burke, like a bloody fool, got into a passion, and show 
 ed his teeth to the widow, and his fool head to her son, and draw d 
 his bullet, I reckon from a rest, for it laid him out flat as a sarcum- 
 stance. So you see, thar was two fine fellows tumbled by a brat 
 of a boy. But he s a quick chap as e\er lived, and ef he grows 
 to be a man, he ll make somebody see sights. But I reckon we d 
 ha fixed em all at last, for we was marching off the seven nig 
 jjers, we captivitated under Tony Hines and Jeff Brydges, when, 
 *tll of a sudden, who should bolt in upon them and us, but that 
 
BLOOD MONEY. 
 
 bloody fat cappin, Porgy, with half-a-dozen dragoons at his 
 heels. They cut down Jeff Brydges in his tracks ; they mn 
 Tony Hines into the swamps, where, what with cold, and scare, 
 and hunger, he s got the fever ; and they tuk Dick Norris in the 
 \vngon, and hitched him to a swinging limh, putting a knot ii. the 
 rope jest under his left ear, that s made him careful nevei to 
 speak a word sence." 
 
 " Good God ! is it possible ! Did he confess 1" 
 
 " I reckon he didn t liev a chance. Dick s a good fellow, and 
 he disapp inted them. lie died too sudden to say much. They 
 gin me a hard chase, so close that I had to throw away my rifle. 
 I ve lost rifle, horse, and everything; and four fine fellows shet 
 up for ever; and one prehaps, a-dying now, and the other here, 
 as you sees, before you, purty desperate, M Kewn and jest as 
 willing to knife himself, and you, and a most anybody that crooks 
 a finger at him, as to sup this Jamaica." 
 
 "What a shocking affair! How your fellows must have bung 
 led !" 
 
 Bungled ! By the Etarnal ! don t say that agin. A man 
 what pavs for his bungling with his life, has a right to hev the 
 decent thing said about him. It was no bungling, but a clever 
 piece of business, mighty well done ; but a man s not able for 
 
 everything, and who was to know that them d d hard-riding 
 
 men of Marion was to corne down sudden upon us." 
 
 " But you admit that the negro-girl, Jenny, escaped your ob 
 servation, and it was she, you say, that cut Fordham and the 
 young man loose." 
 
 " Yes, twas she ; but ef it hadn t been for your business, 
 twouldn t hev happened ; but you was so set upon heving them 
 bloody papers, that I made for s arching the carriage arter them 
 
 my own self. Ef I hadn t done so, but let them go to , and 
 
 jest seen to the captivating of the party, and not trusted to the 
 other fellows, I reckon all would ha gone right. But twas the 
 blasted papers that you talked so much about." 
 
 " Did you get them at last the papers ?" demanded M Kewn, 
 eagerly. 
 
 " Yes ! twas all I got out of the affair." The squatter thought 
 of the fifty guineas as he spoke but without compunctions of any 
 sort. " Yes ! I got em ; I got all the papers the widow had in 
 
256 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 the carriage, a good sized box full, and yours, I reckon, is among 
 em. I seed two papers jest like what you show d me, and tell d 
 rne about." 
 
 "Let me see them" eagerly "1 can tell." 
 
 " No ! no ! M Kewn ! that cock won t fight tell he s well fed. 
 Them papers, ef they re so vallyable to you, are jest as vallyable 
 to me. You ve got to pay for them papers afore you git em. 
 They re worth a sight of money. They re worth them four lino, 
 fellows that got knock d in the head to git em. They re worth 
 my horse, my rifle, my trouble, my danger, and the wf ul fright, 
 and hurry, and run, and confusion I ve had. Them papers must 
 pay for all." 
 
 " Well, but Bostwick, I have not refused to reward you for what 
 you have done. I ve paid you punctually for all your services " 
 
 " Paid me ? And whar s the pay ? What am I the better for 
 it 1 It come in driblets and it couldn t last no time. Sich re- 
 wardings! Twon t do to talk of what you ve paid me, M Kewn; 
 it s now that I m to show you what you ve got to pay. I must 
 hev one hundred guineas in hand, bright and yallow here" 
 touching his palms " before you gits them papers into your n." 
 
 " A hundred guineas ! Why man, you re mad. A hundred 
 guineas for a sheet of paper!" 
 
 " It s a paper that kin hang you, M Kewn." 
 
 " And you, too, my gaod fellow." 
 
 " I ll be ready for the rope when they re a stringing you. I 
 jest don t care for nothing now except my comforts ; and my 
 comforts is to be bought with guineas ; and ef the guineas ain t 
 there to buy the comforts, why I don t care how soon the eend 
 of the rope is worked into a slip knot for both our necks. Thar ! 
 Them s my principles. Make the most you kin out of them. A 
 hundred guineas is the least I ll take for them bloody papers, I 
 tell you." 
 
 M Kewn changed his tactics. 
 
 " But my good fellow, you don t expect me to pay a hundred 
 guineas for the papers without seeing them. What evidence have 
 I that you have really got them ?" 
 
 "The word of a rascal to a rascal, ef you please, and I ain t 
 guine to give you better evidence ; for I kain t. Take that or 
 none at all." 
 
BLOOD MONEY 3fi>j 
 
 The face of M Kcwn, naturally of a cadaverous cast, flushed 
 instantly to crimson. The space between himself and the squat 
 ter had diminished wonderfully in a single week. But he had 
 no remedy. The man who weighs his own life at so small a 
 value, has that of his enemy always at his girdle. He had only 
 to temporize. 
 
 " But, as we know each other so well," said M Kewn, " pray 
 what security shall I have, when I have paid this money, that 
 you will then deliver the papers? How do I know hut you will 
 still keep them, and still he calling upon me for more money." 
 
 " Well, that sartainly would be a good way to do business. I 
 hadn t thought of that. You re more cute than me, M Kewn." 
 
 " You see for yourself. My only security is in your delivering 
 the papers, at least, when I am prepared to pay the money." 
 
 " Kaint be did, M Kewn, even ef I was willing, which I aint. 
 The box of papers is hid away, where all h 11 couldn t find 
 them." 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 " Yes ! You might take a thousand rigiments and s arch from 
 Christmas to Christmas, and never once come within nosing dis 
 tance of their hiding place. It ll take me three days good riding 
 !o bring em here ; and them guineas, one hundred on em, I must 
 hev before we part to-morrow." 
 
 A cloud passed over the brow of M Kewn. His forehead was 
 contracted. He rnused in silence for a moment, then said 
 
 " Well, I must think of it to-night. One hundred guineas ! 
 I must think of it." 
 
 With these words, he abruptly left the tent, while the squatter 
 proceeded to replenish his cup with the convenient Jamaica, 
 
258 WOODCRAFT 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 KNAVES PAIRING OFF. 
 
 M KEWiv had suddenly been enlightened by a new idea. Ho 
 walked out into the woods, taking a Mind path with which he 
 appeared quite familiar, and which gradually conducted him to 
 the near neighborhood of the river, or rather that arm of the 
 sea which afforded harborage to the brigantines, or transport 
 vessels, to which, he and others, engaged in illicit trade, were 
 <ibo"t to furnish stolen cargo. But, though approaching this 
 . >*:ghborhood, he was not yet disposed to show himself to his 
 confederates. He had to solve his problems, in secret meditation, 
 before he required their cooperation. Exercising our peculiar 
 privilege, we, however, are enabled to report the subject of his 
 thoughts and the conclusions to which they conducted him. As 
 might be expected, his meditations all related to the squatter, 
 Bostwick, and the embarassments which threatened him from 
 that quart e iv 
 
 " Either," he said to himself, " this fellow has the paper or he 
 has not. Whether he has, or not, his object is to impress me with 
 the fact of his possessing it, and, through my fears, on that sub 
 ject, to extort money from me. He will never surrender the pa 
 per as long as he can do this. He will hold it over me, in ter- 
 rorcm, for ever. I must disarm him of this power. I doubt that 
 he has this paper. If he has obtained it, he has secreted it, as 
 lie boasts, where I can never lay hands on it without his consent. 
 I know the scoundrel so well, that, supposing he has it, I could 
 swear that it now lies hidden in some hollow tree, in some un 
 fathomable swamp. He will confide the secret to nobody else. 
 What then T If I can keep him from it, it is secure from all other 
 persons. It will moulder and rot in its burial place. It can never 
 rise against me. But, even if he has not this paper, his own 
 evidence may trouble me hereafter. He will still want money 
 will always be full of wants so long as he can threaten mo 
 
KNAVES PAIRING OFF, 259 
 
 / must get rid of 1dm! I will do it. This very skirmish with 
 Porgy and his followers increases the danger, and makes it 
 doubly important that Bostwick should he out of the way. I 
 see ! I have it. Drummond can manage that ! But, in the 
 meanwhile, I will see this assorl.-ite of his this fellow, Hines 
 It is possible that he has the paper, and only awaits Bostwick a 
 orders on the subject. He is sick with fever that may be true 
 or not. I must, at all events, find out what I can all that he 
 knows, and whether he knows more than is becoming for our 
 safety. Eight miles ! I can see him and return in four hours. 
 It must be done!" 
 
 Having reached this conclusion, he emerged from the thicket, 
 and moved rapidly toward the bluff which usually formed the 
 landing-place for the brigantine. The tide was making rapidly 
 into the creek on which it stood. Three persons were already 
 there, who, on his approach, proved to be Drummond, Barton, 
 and a burly, broad-shouldered, and excessively short person, 
 partly in the habit of a sailor. He was in fact, the master of the 
 brigantine. His name was Forbes. These three were in wait 
 ing for the vessel. She was approaching under a fair breeze, 
 cutting directly across the inner bay, having been concealed 
 for several days already, against the opposite shore ; her tall 
 rakish masts mingling naturally with the great trees of the forest, 
 which, in that quarter, hung directly over thejiver. She was 
 guided in her progress by signal lights just over the heads of our 
 party three lanterns, in a triangle, suspended from a cypress 
 pole. By daylight she was signalled by three separate smokes. 
 M Kewn joined the group who awaited her, and they spoke to 
 gether on the subject of their affairs in general. Various matters 
 were discussed among them which need not tax our attention, 
 but scarcely a word was said of the squatter ; Forbes only re 
 marked 
 
 " Bostwick, it seems, came empty handed. It s not often that 
 he fails." 
 
 " He was probably drunk or he would not have failed this time." 
 
 " Is there any chance that he will mend the matter?" was the 
 inquiry of Forbes. 
 
 " Scarcely in season for yon. You have a pretty fair cargo, 
 however and there s no policy in waiting upon him." 
 
260 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 " No, indeed ! I shall try to be oft by day-peep. We have a 
 hunched and seventy-one. I am prepared to take two hundred, 
 if they were ready ; but there s quite too much risk in waiting. 
 Some French vessels-of-war went by yesterday, going north, 
 and close in shore. Every day will acid to their number, and 
 they are enough now along the route, to keep us watching with 
 all our eyes." 
 
 " I want some physic out of your chest, captain," said M Kewn 
 somewhat suddenly changing the subject. 
 
 " What s the matter ? You re not going to take physic ?" 
 " It s not for myself." 
 
 " We have a good supply. You can have what you please. 
 For my part I don t see the good of it, in our hands at least 
 When a sailor s to die, it makes no sort of difference whether 
 you physic him or not. Die he will, and the physic only keeps 
 him from dying easily." 
 
 " It s very different with a backwoodsman. He believes in 
 physic, and relishes large doses. He ll hardly think himself 
 well, unless he has taken physic. The old women, half of them, 
 feed on it, and learn to like it as well as coffee and sugar." 
 
 " That s when it s mixed with alcohol," quoth Drummond. 
 But who s it for, M Kewn ?" 
 
 " A fellow named Hines, a friend of Bostwick, who has been 
 taken sick some eight miles above, at the cabin of an old man 
 named Smyzer. Do you know anything about him ?" 
 
 " What, old Ephraim ? To be sure, I do, and his old wife, 
 too a pair of turtles that might be owls for the good looks be 
 tween em. But how are you to get the physic there ?" 
 " Carry it myself." 
 "What! to-night?" 
 
 " Yes ; as soon as possible. You can direct me as to the road." 
 " Oh ! that s plain enough. It s a short eight miles. Hardly 
 more than seven, I think ; good enough for a man on horseback. 
 I can tell you all about it. But you re getting wondrous chari 
 table of late. Time was, the man might have died and gone to 
 the devil, and you d never have crossed a creature to carry him 
 physic though you had only a mile to travel. What s in the 
 wind 1" 
 
 M Kewn answered by a glance only, but that was sufficiently 
 
KNAVES PAIRING OFF. 201 
 
 significant for all who saw it They readily comprehended that 
 their confederate was busy in the common cause. It was not 
 necessary to ask or answer questions where the parties were 
 satisfied with each other. 
 
 Meanwhile, the rattling of bolt and cordage announced the 
 approach of the vessel. Soon she plunged ahead and shot into 
 the little harborage. A brief delay, and the confederates 
 boarded her; the contents of the medicine chest were overhaul < <!. 
 and M Kewn selected a small supply of such medicines as, in 
 that day, were mostly resorted to in cases of fever. Provided 
 with them, he wasted no time on matters not absolutely essential 
 to the objects of the party. He quickly returned to the land, hav 
 ing first called Drummond aside. He led him into the wood, 
 and at once proceeded to unfold his further designs. 
 
 " I do not see that this fellow, Bostwick, can be of any further 
 use to us here, Drummond. On the contrary, he may be troub 
 lesome. He promises to be so, as you see. We must get rid 
 of him. He has been a good woodman ; he may become a good 
 seaman. Forbes is short-handed, and will have no objection to 
 a sharp, lithe active fellow who will soon learn to run up a rope, 
 as he has run up a tree. You must get him employment in the 
 transport." 
 
 " But will Bostwick be willing ]" 
 
 " By no means ! These fellows rarely know what is best for 
 them. We must help him against himself. Give him a good 
 berth whether he wishes it or not. Get him on board to-night, 
 on some pretext, and take him off with you. Invite him to a 
 match at cards. His love of money, and his passion for gaming 
 will make it an easy matter to do this, particularly if he is well 
 fuddled. If, however, you can t persuade him, hoist him on 
 board, and make sail. He will be reconciled to it after a while 
 and when you have given him a taste of your sea pleasures 
 nightly drinking and gaming. When ashore at Jamaica, leave 
 him there. It is to him a sort of rum and sugar paradise where 
 he may be well content to stay. At all events, there will be no 
 policy in bringing him back. Se (o it. I shall ride at once 
 to see this fellow, Hines. Try :nd have it all over before I re 
 turn. I do not care to see him again. He is already half 
 drunk. Go back to the tent, and resume th<j v cards. Bet as 
 
262 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 highly as he may desire. Let him win for awhile. You can 
 recover all your losses on the voyage. Above all, and to effect 
 all, keep him well soaked. The rum will make all easy." 
 
 Drammond liked the project. He offered no objections. 
 Without having any motive so grave as that of M Kewn with 
 out, indeed, having any knowledge of the particular reason 
 which the latter had for getting the squatter out of the way 
 he yet saw that the proceeding, might, in some degree, contrib 
 ute to the common cause. Besides, Drummond had a passion for 
 fun, and the abduction of the squatter promised ample store for 
 merriment. 
 
 " It will be comical," said he, " when the fellow wakes and 
 finds himself out of sight of land. Won t he look wild ?" 
 
 The plan being properly understood, the parties separated, 
 M Kewn at once taking horse, without showing himself at the 
 tent, and speeding, with all possible haste, toward the cabin of 
 old Ephraim Smyzer. Two hours as he had calculated, brought 
 him to the place. The family had retired for the night ; but 
 M Kewn s business was urgent and he prepared to rout them up. 
 His entrance into the enclosure brought upon him the fierce as 
 sault of a couple of hounds, the attentions of which made him 
 rather slow to dismount ; but he kept them off with his whip, 
 and made his way to the steps of the house, which consisted of 
 three huge pine blocks leading to a low piazza, into which, as 
 there was no railing around it, he alighted directly from the sad 
 dle. Fastening his horse to one of the columns, he thundered 
 at the door, keeping close watch upon the dogs, which had as 
 cended the piazza also, but hung about the steps, seeming in 
 some degree, to respect the house, if not the intruder. But they 
 did not spare their tongues if they did their teeth. Their clam 
 ors were incessant, and between their music, and the tune kept 
 upon the door by M Kewn s stick, the inmates of the hovel were 
 soon aroused. 
 
 " Who s tliar ?" was the demand, in a female voice. 
 
 " It s the doctor," answered M Kewn, promptly. His cue had 
 been adopted long before, by which he included himself among 
 the faculty. " You ve got a sick man here, haven t you ?" 
 
 "Yes; I reckon ; and I m sick myself," answered the old wo 
 man, opening the door, nnd displaying- herself in her night dress 
 
KNAVES PAIRING OFF. 263 
 
 a very short one with a ragged blanket over her shoulders, 
 and a blazing torch of lightwood in her hand. 
 
 " Won t you come in, doctor," she said. "I m mighty glad 
 to see you. The poor man s got the fever yit, and a mighty hot 
 fever it is." 
 
 "Where is he?" was the eager inquiry which M Kewn made, 
 pushing in as he spoke. 
 
 " Well, now, jest set down a bit, doctor, while I light the fire ;" 
 and the good woman squatted down to the occupation on the 
 hearth. A grunt from the bed in one corner, drew M Kewn s 
 attention to that quarter. 
 
 " Is it Doctor Ferney ?" asked old Ephraim. 
 
 " No ; I m Doctor Warlcy." 
 
 " Yis! I hearn of you, some whar about Dorchester, I m a- 
 thinking. Well, doctor, I m mighty glad you re come to do some 
 thing for the poor man what s sick here ; and something for all 
 on us. I m sick myself with an awful bad turn of rheumatiz 
 one whole side of me is a most useless, doctor; I kain t well 
 straighten myself these times. Kain t you give me something 
 to do me good?" 
 
 The fire by r this time was kindled, and the old woman inter 
 posed with her complaints which were chronic also, like those of 
 her husband. We spare her narration. M Kewn was not un 
 prepared for any emergency. He knew the people, their usual 
 ailments, and the faith which they had in professional art. But 
 he was too anxious about the patient he had come to see, to 
 suffer any delays of the interview. 
 
 " Well," said he, " as this poor fellow has a hot fever, his case 
 is the most pressing. We ll see what his condition is first, and 
 then attend to yours." 
 
 He was conducted accordingly to the shed-room where Hines 
 lay. The patient was awake, and welcomed the supposed physi 
 clan with profound satisfaction. Dr. Warley as he called him 
 self sat down upon the pallet by the sick man, and grasped his 
 wrist with a professional promptness that would have done honor 
 to the regular faculty then shook his head slowly with a very 
 deliberative nod. Mrs. Smyzer was disposed to linger and to 
 mingle in the conference ; but this by no means suited our medico 
 
 " Leave us, my good woman ! The secrets of the sick are to 
 
264 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 be respected. I will see to your .ailments, and those of your old 
 man, when I have got through with the case : ". Mr. Hines." 
 The good woman retired. 
 " You knows me, then ]" quoth Hines. 
 
 " To be sure ! Bostwick is an old patient of mine. He s done 
 many a pretty turn for me, and I ve saved him many a time 
 when he was on his back. He begged me to ride here to night 
 I d have done it for no other man. But, in truth, I know all 
 about his affairs and yours. He counsels with me about other 
 tilings than physic." 
 
 "Oh! ho!" said Hines, and he straight began to suspect 
 that his worthy physician had been the employer of the party 
 on its late expedition a secret which Bostwick had studiously 
 kept to himself. The next thought with the sick outlaw, was to 
 ascertain what had been the reward which had tempted the 
 squatter. His cupidity taught him to suspect that Bostwick had 
 monopolized the lion s share, as is too common in all such cases 
 " I ll pump him about it," was the almost spoken resolve of 
 Tony. The two parties, it will thus be seen, had each a covert 
 object to be gained, in each case demanding some exercise of in 
 genuity. As the very being a rogue always implies some degree 
 of ingenuity, it is needless for us to say that the hopeful pair 
 were quite equal to the objects entertained. We shall be com 
 pelled, however, to omit many of the details, and much of the 
 dialogue between them, and report results rather than the process 
 by which they were reached. It was M Kewn s object to appear 
 quite familiar with the squatter s affairs. It was the policy of 
 Tony to show the doctor that he had a sufficient inkling of the 
 relations existing between the parties. 
 
 " You have a very hot fever, Tony ; but you owe it as much 
 as anything else, to the scenes through which you have gone. 
 You ve had a hard time of it. But Bostwick don t spare his men 
 I warned him to be careful of what he was about." 
 
 " He didn t mind you much, doctor. Bost is too quick a leetle. 
 He don t look about him enough. But you paid him too well, 
 doctor, that was it ! He was so keen for his pay, and he didn t 
 watch both mids of the road close enough." 
 
 " I paid him ! oh ! yes ! as you say, he was too quick for his 
 pay to do his work properly. And that s the reason of all the 1 
 
KNAVES PAIRING OFF. 265 
 
 misfortune. He bungled badly, and lost all he came for. Bui 
 lie got the box and papers, eh ?" 
 
 " Box and papers !" 
 
 " Yes ; didn t he 1 He made sure of that ? Of course, yon 
 know." 
 
 Know ? I reckon I do. But about the box and papers " 
 
 ( He got them from the carriage !" 
 
 He did?" 
 
 " He says so ; of course he did ! Didn t you help search the 
 carriage ?" 
 
 " No ! dern his liver, I didn t ! That was what he was arter 
 then ! We helped knock down the driver, and tie tlie fellows 
 and the woman, but twas him that s arched the carriage." 
 
 " Well, didn t you know what he found there the box, the 
 money, and the papers V 
 
 " Box of money ! No, there was no money. I axed him, 
 and Morris axed him, but he swore there wasn t no money." 
 
 "Oh! you surely forget. Bostwick s an honest fellow. He 
 wouldn t cheat me wouldn t tell me a lie, I m sure. He found 
 the box, I m sure." 
 
 " Honest, you say ! Well, I reckon he is, and I reckon every 
 man s honest tell he s found out. Ef there was a box I never 
 seed it, and ef he got any money out of the carriage, then he 
 told us all a-most etarnal lie, for he swor he couldn t find nothing." 
 
 " All was in the box. You saw that /" 
 
 " No, I didn t." 
 
 " Is it possible ? Why how could he have hidden it \ You all 
 helped to stop the carriage, to tie the women and the men, and 
 , ou must have seen." 
 
 " Yes ; we did help, but you see, the dern d fox of a fellow 
 now I see it all he s arched the carriage first, by his one self, 
 and kept us at a distance to see after the men gone ahead and 
 the wagon behind, so that he had all the chances." 
 
 But, if he got it, how could he hide it from you, so that you 
 shouldn t see even the box ?" 
 
 " Easy enough He kept us all busy, and he kept pretty 
 much with the woman. Ef anybody seed the box and money 
 besides himself, twas Ilafe Burke, and he s not able to say any 
 thing about it now. Bostwick swore he found nothing." 
 
 19 
 
^6 A OOIH RAFT. 
 
 " Oh ! he didn t think of the box at the time. But I m sure 
 fate got it. He says so now. He s hid it somewhere, he says " 
 
 "In the swamp ! He had chance enough for it, for we di\i- 
 rted, you see, one set agin the carriage, one agin the overseer 
 and hoy, and another agin the wagon. He kept the carriage 
 and the woman to himself, and was a long time about em. But 
 he swore there was no money." 
 
 "But did you believe the story? Did you suppose that tin- 
 widow, who is so rich, would go to the country and take no 
 money with her even if it were only a stocking full of shillings 
 for chicken money. I shouldn t wonder if she had a hundred 
 guineas in that box !" 
 
 " A hundred guineas ! The etarnal cheat ! And you paid him 
 so well, too." 
 
 " I ! oh ! we wont say what hand I had in the matter, seeing 
 that it s turned out nothing. The box might be worth something 
 now, if we had it." 
 
 " Dern the box, I say ; and dern that fox of a fellow th.it 
 kept his mouth shet all the while about the box. Now, look 
 you, I kin jest show the chance he had for gutting the carriage 
 and hiding a dozen boxes" and he proceeded to give such a 
 full account of the whole adventure, as served to confirm the 
 story, told by Bostwick, and to satisfy M Kewn that the squatter, 
 in all probability, had secured the papers. The sick ruffian 
 iroused himself at the squatter s appropriation of the spoil, allow- 
 3d himself no reserve, and went into particulars which supplied 
 many gaps in the narrative as given by the latter. M Kewn 
 istened coolly, egging the fellow on by a word thrown in, now 
 and then, at the right moment. He now recalled certain stu 
 dious efforts of Bostwick to send all his confederates out of sight, 
 and, in fact, accounted for the failure to secure the negro-girl, 
 by the solicitude of the squatter to put the mysterious box out 
 of sight. 
 
 " Well, I m sorry I told you of the box and the hundred guin 
 eas ; but I really supposed you all knew what was done. Bost 
 wick didn t speak of it as any secret, and I reckon he ll give 
 you your share of the money. He only forgot." 
 
 "Forgot! 1) n him ! He forgot a-purpos o ! Now, of all 
 Hie money you gin him iu this business " , 
 
KNAVES PA1UIN<; OFF. 207 
 
 Who? I! oh! no! I suppose somebody employed him 
 Mild paid him well, but I am only his friend when lie s in trouble." 
 
 " Hem ! oh ! yes ! I onderstnnd ! It s only right not to say 
 too much. But I reckon he got famous pay beforehand." 
 
 " Very likely. Hundreds, no doubt !" 
 
 " What ! guineas !" 
 
 "To be sure guineas. To do such a business as you went 
 on must have called for a round pocket full. Bostwick is not tho 
 mail to look at such work for less than a hundred for himself." 
 
 " End you gin him ? You think he got so much as that 1" 
 
 "Not a shilling less !" 
 
 " The tarnal rascal ! Look you, doctor, give me the physic 
 and let me get out of this fodder. I longs to jest call the dern d 
 fellow out into the bushes, and ax him for a showing of his 
 pockets." 
 
 " Oh ! you musn t quarrel. I m sorry I told you. He ll 
 make it all right, I m sure." 
 
 " Jest you make me well, doctor. I longs to be at him. I ll 
 go into him with a mighty sharp tooth." 
 
 The " doctor" again felt the pulse of the patient, now some 
 what heightened, and proceeded to prescribe for him. An enor 
 mous dose of Glauber s salts was poured into a tumbler, and 
 the old woman was called on for Virginia snake-root. Of this 
 root the country is everywhere full, and all the peasantry is well 
 acquainted with it. A grain of tartar was deposited among the 
 salts. 
 
 " It will disquiet him to some purpose," quoth M Kewn, to 
 himself, as he mixed the medicines, " and that is all, perhaps, 
 that physic ought to be expected to do." 
 
 There were other words between himself and patient, and 
 when he left him, he bestowed a reasonable time upon the old 
 couple, for whose ailments he left other medicines, possibly as 
 wisely chosen, with reference to the intended object, as the salts, 
 tartar and snake-root. This done, our soi-disant doctor did not 
 unnecessarily delay his departure. As he rode away, on his re 
 turn, he stated his own conclusion to himself, thus 
 
 44 He has got box and papers ! But this fellow knows nothing 
 of them, and he is the only other survivor. Bostwick has hid- 
 ien them from his confederates, whicL is pretty much like hi 
 
2(58 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 ding them from all the world. What more do I want ? If he 
 hides them from ail others, I am quite as well satisfied that he 
 should hide them fro~n me. Let them rot in their hiding-place, 
 
 and let, him rot in Jamaica or in a hotter region ! He shall 
 
 rouble me no more !" 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 THE HAZARDS *OF THE DIE. 
 
 WHILE M Kewn was playing tne physician, his confederate^ 
 Drummond and Barton, had made their way back to the tent 
 where the squatter had been left, prepared to put in practice the 
 policy which the first-mentioned person had suggested. They 
 found Bostwick stretched at length upon the ground, with his 
 head and shoulders resting against the chest, the cup of Jamaica 
 and bottle by his side, and a pipe in his mouth, from which an 
 occasional puff only, betrayed the half-drowsy state of the smoker. 
 He roused himself up as they came in, but it was evident, from 
 his flushed face and the wildness of his eyes, that he had been 
 exceedingly frequent in his potations, and was now, as Drummond 
 phrased it, in a whisper to his associate, "rather the worse fof 
 wear." This was a condition that promised them much facility 
 in performing the duty coniided to their hands. That Bostwick 
 suffered from the effects of the liquor was not, however, favora 
 ble to his amiableness and sweetness of temper. His natural 
 sullenness had become savageness, and he abruptly asked - 
 " Where s M Kewn ?" 
 
 " He s about somewhere. He ll be in directly." 
 " Well, he d better. I kain t wait too long. I wants money !" 
 " Why, you ve got money, man ! Where s all that you won 
 from us, and what you had before ?" 
 
 "That!" said he, thrusting his hands into his pockets, and 
 dravdng forth and displaying the contents "What s that! I 
 f ell you I wants A hundred emineas from M Kewn not a guinea 
 less and I must hev n . 
 
THE HAZARDS OF THE DIE. M* 
 
 "A hundred guineas!" exclaimed Barton in unaflectod aston 
 ishment. "Why, what the devil docs he owe you a hundred 
 guineas for ?" 
 
 " What ! But that s my business ! He owes ine a great deal 
 more, ef the right was known, and I ll make him know it afore 
 I m done with him. He s too mean a rascal, by thunder, to be a 
 white man !" 
 
 " Look you, Bostwick, that s not the way to speak of a person 
 that s finding you the grub you eat !" said Barton. Drummond 
 nudged his companion, and in a whisper said 
 
 " Don t answer the drunken fool, or answer him according to 
 the folly and the liquor." 
 
 " Grub ! Find me ! Arid who the h-11 tells you that I owes 
 sich a fellow as M Kewn any thanks for anything. It s he owes 
 me ; and he shall pay me, too, or sweat for it. I say he s as 
 dirty a dog as ever run without a nose ; and ef you don t like 
 what I say, jest try your hand to make me speak more agreea 
 ble ; and see what ll come of that. I m a man ceuy day for my 
 inches against the inches of ceny other man!" 
 
 " Pshaw ! what are you both mouthing about ? You re both of 
 you drunk, I reckon, or so near on the road to staggers that you ll 
 never reach it together. Shut up both of you, and let s have a 
 drink all round. I m as thirsty after work as a bull-frog after 
 a dry-shower. Come, Bostwick, my boy, you don t mean to soak 
 up all the Jamaica in your own sponge." 
 
 " Thar it is ; I m not onreasonable with ceny man, and will 
 jine you, ef drinking s the word and no offence meant. But that 
 don t make me onsay what I ve said of M Kewn. He s as mean 
 as gar-broth, and a rascal to boot!" 
 
 " Well, that s just as you and he pleases. We shan t fight for 
 either of you. You re both of you able to do your own fighting 
 I reckon." 
 
 "He fight!" quoth the squatter. "Never! onless with youi 
 we pon or mine. He ll use our fingers for the skrimmage always, 
 yet always forgit to pile our hands when its done. I say he owes 
 rne more than a hundred guineas, ef I m to git my rights ; and 
 I d like to see the white man that says lie to me !" 
 
 This was said rising, and with a fierce look at Barton. Drum 
 mond again nudged his companion, in order to check any obulli- 
 
270 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 tion of defiance which he might be disposed to offer ; a necessary 
 precaution, as Barton was one of that irritable race who too fre 
 quently smelt the lire, when there was really nothing to he found 
 but smoke. 
 
 " Psho !" interposed the peace-maker, Drummond. " Why the 
 devil do you talk of fight, when I talk of drink. None but a fool 
 fights so long as the liquor lasts. Here, hand up the bottle, Bost, 
 if you re sober enough for it, and empty your cup. I go for a 
 full swallow all round, fresh from the fountain. Come, Barton, 
 smooth off your rough-dry visage, and suck. You shall drink 
 first, if not too bashful ; and if you are that, leave it to me to 
 show you how the thing may be done. Quick with the cup, 
 Bostwick, there s no time to be lost. I want to get at the pic 
 tures. I want to win back some of my money." 
 
 " Or put a leetle more into the heap," answered the squatter, 
 as he carried the cup to his lips, and emptied it 
 
 " Now fill," quoth Drummond. 
 
 " After you first." 
 
 " Well, there s no use taking up precious time making faces ; 
 here, boys, is good luck to all good fellows. The world s made 
 up of two sons of people those who live for other people, and 
 those who live by other people. I m one of the last, but I don t 
 complain or quarrel with the first, seeing that we can t exactly 
 do without em. I m for live and let live." 
 
 " That s what I m a thinking. It s only jest right and nateral," 
 responded the squatter, warmly. " I aint, anyhow, an onreason- 
 able man. You first, Mr. Barton," he continued with amiable 
 tone, but with something ceremonious in his manner. 
 
 " Drink yourself," said Barton, " I aint in a hurry." 
 
 " And I aint in no hurry neither," answered the squatter. "I 
 aint such a dog when I m a-tharsting, that I must jump right 
 into the pond." 
 
 This was said doggedly. He had not been sufficiently recon 
 ciled to the other, not to misconstrue everything that he said. 
 Barton saw his error. 
 
 Oh ! I didn t mean that, Bostwick; so don t be wolfish. I ll 
 drink and have done with it; so, fill up for me, Drummond 
 Your health, men, and good profits always to good fellowship." 
 
 "And righteous pay when th work is done, added BostwK-k 
 
THE TIAZAUDS OF THE DIE. 271 
 
 " Amen !" quoth Drummond. "That s good doctrine! And 
 now, hoys, as we ve got no more to do to-night much, any of us, 
 shall we turn up the pictures. I m ready to face you with the 
 goldfinches, Bostwick. I got a small supply from Forbes. 
 
 " Forbes ! who s he ?" 
 
 The captain of the schooner, and a fellow you re born to like." 
 
 " I doesn t know him." 
 
 " But you will. And that reminds me. What say you to go 
 ing aboard ? We can play there better than here, and there s 
 (MIC, more man with money in his pockets." 
 
 Who the captain?" 
 
 "Yes; to be sure Forbes; a fine fellow as ever tripped an 
 anchor, and, I reckon, with guineas enough to buy and sell us 
 all. He hasn t been sailing between Charlestown and Jamaica 
 these five years not to have crammed more than one sea-chest 
 to bursting." 
 
 " Let him come here," said Bostwick. 
 
 " He can t ! Can t leave the vessel. But he ll be infernal glad 
 to see us aboard, and will give us the best of liquors, a good 
 table, good lights, and a supper after it, all much better than 
 we can get here. What say you?" 
 
 " I m willing," answered Barton. 
 
 "I ain t," was the reply of the squatter. "I don t like the 
 smell of the sea and the smell of the ship. It always hurts me, 
 and makes me feel oneasy. Give me the feel of the solid airth 
 under my foot. It s a sort of tempting of Providence to try to 
 ride or walk on a shifting thing like the water. The Jamaica is 
 good enough for me, jest here, and I ve found it a good thing 
 without any water at all." 
 
 Barton would have argued the case with the squatter, but. 
 Drummond, the better politician, yielded the point at the proper 
 moment, and before the victim should have suspected the hook 
 concealed in the untaken bait. He made a merit of necessity, 
 and declared himself quite satisfied with any arrangement, par 
 ticularly if it called for no delay. 
 
 " We are enough for fun," said he, " and have gold enough for 
 a smart fight till the small hours. Whether I lose or win, I shall 
 sleep sound enough when the time comes for it. Square vourself 
 round. Barton, and haul up your legs. Bost, throw a few light- 
 
272 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 wood knots into the fire. Let s see what we re doing. And now 
 put up your pennies. How do we begin small or large white 
 or yellow ?" 
 
 " When I ve once had the feeling of the yellow, I don t like 
 to touch the white," quoth Bostwick, " but we ll begin small, cf 
 it pleases you." And he put up a single guinea. The others did 
 the same. The cut was made for the deal, which fell to Barton, 
 and the hands were dealt round. 
 
 " Let s liquor before we begin," cried Drummond, laying down 
 his cards. 
 
 " I m agreeable," said Bostwick, reaching round for the cup 
 and bottle. Again they drank; the sly Drurnmond barely dash 
 ing the water with the rum, and Barton imitating his forbearance. 
 The squatter always drank in good faith ; his own tastes never 
 allowing him to suppose that his associates, in order to circum 
 vent another, would ever deny themselves. He was further de 
 ceived by Drummond s eloquent declarations in favor of good 
 liquor. It was his frequent topic, and he even volunteered a 
 dithyrambic, of rude fashion probably his own the burden of 
 which gave a most glowing picture of the glory of the bacchana 
 lian, and a most melancholy one of the sorrows of temperance, 
 which was fiercely chorussed 
 
 " Tis the milk-sop that withers in autumn, 
 And shakes, in tho winter, with chill, 
 Not he who dives clown in the bottle, 
 
 And grows warm hy the fire of the still!" 
 
 " A mighty good song that, Drummond ; ef I could sing, I d 
 larn it. Twould be good to sing when a fellow had no liquor. 
 Twould almost warm him of itself; jest as one feels warm if he 
 only smells at the empty jug where the Jamaica has been kept. 
 Spade s trump, asid there s a lead for you." 
 
 The devil ! The ace !" cried Barton, throwing down the ten 
 of the same suit. 
 
 " Heh ! I had you then !" cried the squatter, with a chuckb 
 " I wonder ef there s no more p?a-ties in danger, standing without 
 any company. I ll fish for em." 
 
 And the ace was followed by the king. 
 
 " Dickins ! why, you re a witch, Bost !" was the cry of Drum- 
 tnond, as he yielded his knave to the lead 
 
THE HAZARD OF TIIK DIK. 273 
 
 "It s luck only it s time 1 bad some, I m a-tliinking. 
 Count up. I ve one to go." 
 
 In a few minutes more the squatter gathered up the stakes. 
 
 "We ll double!" said Barton, pushing up two guineas. 
 
 "Ditto!" quoth Drummond, doing likewise. 
 
 " I m agreeable to anything when the luck s with me," was 
 the response of the squatter, and the game was resumed with 
 new interest. Other games followed, and the fortunes of the 
 squatter were rising. 
 
 " Let s liquor, boys. It may change the luck," was again the 
 proposition of Drummond, carried nem. diss., and the parties 
 drank. 
 
 "I wonder where M Kewn is! d n his splinters!" cried 
 Bostwick, as Barton now gathered up the stakes. 
 
 " Be here directly. He s at the vessel, I reckon. If you re 
 tired, we ll go there." 
 
 " Tired ! I d like to see the man what could tire me out at 
 this business. Push on, Barton. We re a-waiting." 
 
 "It ll come soon enough, Bostwick, for you; for I reckon 
 luck s changing, and I mean to root you out to-night." 
 
 " Kaint be did, by any man of your timbers, I m a-thinking. 
 What s that ?" 
 
 " A diamond." 
 
 " Throw on more lightwot)d there s no seeing what one s got." 
 
 " That s only because you ve got so little, I suppose. What 
 do you do ?" 
 
 " Stand, by jingo ! Play to that !" flinging down a card. 
 
 " So I will, and one you wont be liking much " 
 
 " The devil ! You hoi the ace !" 
 
 " Yes ; and the deuce too F 
 
 " Jimini ! that s what I call mighty bad fortin. I stood on 
 king and tray." 
 
 " Cut on both ends, high and low ; and look at that and that !" 
 flinging down knave and ten. 
 
 Criki Lord ! what an etarnal hand !" 
 
 " Scared, Bost ?" 
 
 " Skear d, never! see by that, if I m skear d !" And he 
 now thrust up five guineas, and demanded that they should bo 
 covered. 
 
 12* 
 
274 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 * You re sworn to make a short night of it, Bost !" said Drum, 
 mond. " At that rate, the time of some of us will be short, too !" 
 
 " Cut loose !" cried the squatter " I m the old sarpent now. 
 I ll wind you up." 
 
 " I must have another sup of Jamaica, boys, to give me heart 
 !;> begin," said Drummond. ^ There s too much to lose, on an 
 empty stomach. Who says for a sup ?" 
 
 " I m consenting !" was the pliant answer of Bostwick. " But 
 where the d 1 is M Kewn ?" 
 
 " He s about ! He ll be here directly. And now, boys the 
 bold better, the honest winner, and to him who can keep what 
 he gits." 
 
 " It s a wise man to be all three, I m a-thinking, but I drinks 
 it with a whoop ! Whoop ! whoop ! hurrah ! for the first horse 
 and the best shot ! Whoop ! whoop ! hurrah ! and the devil 
 take M Kewn!" 
 
 "Arnen!" quoth Drummond, echoing the pious adjuration 
 then, in a whisper to Barton "The snake s bitten him fairly. 
 It s time that we should win, now. When his gold s all goho 
 he ll probably be willing to go too." 
 
 " Whoop, old fellows, and at your p inters ! I m the old sar 
 pent, I tell you, and am going into you with a horn. Whar s 
 t 1 ^ gowld ! oh ! thai* ! It s fifteen guineas I m to take up." 
 
 * If you can." 
 
 " Ef I kin ! Ef be hang d ! I m the man to take of by 
 the collar, and make him work in my harness. Ef V no mas 
 ter of mine, and never was ! I kin send him to the right about 
 with a whoop ! whoop ! whoop ! hurrah ! and into the shiners !" 
 
 The cards were to be dealt by the squatter ; but he had so 
 many ejaculations to make, and a pause accompanying each, 
 that the process was a slow one. 
 
 " Three to you, Drummond ! whoop, old fellow, I likes you." 
 
 " And, thus speaking, he threw the arm, with the card hand. 
 about the neck of the preferred companions, and drew him lov 
 ingly over into his lap. 
 
 "I always thought you a good fellow, Bostwick, of a most 
 tender heart." 
 
 " And who says I ain t ? I m as -tender as a gal child. Oh ! 
 ef y u could only see my Dory." 
 
THE HAZARD OF THE DIE. 275 
 
 " Your what !" asked Drammond. 
 
 "I didn t say icliaf / I said Dory! Dory s my oldest gal 
 elfild, and a beauty of the forest, and nobody shall say anything 
 onrespec ful about her." 
 
 " To be sure not. She is a beauty." 
 
 " I know d you d say so. You re a man of sense and .; gen 
 tleman, Dmmmond. You shall see Dory some of these days. 
 She s a gal child to please a gentleman. Well! b lt why 
 don t you play "?" 
 
 " Deal out the cards, then," said Barton, who was yearning to 
 restore some of his lost gold to his pocket. 
 
 "Deal! well, I swow ! but I hev the pictars in my own 
 hand. That s strange. How s that !" 
 
 "Why, to be sure you re dealing, and you ve given me 
 three. Go on to Barton." 
 
 " Three to you, Barton, and three to me." 
 
 The deal was finished after some further maudlin delay. 
 Bostwick picked up his cards, and the habit of play contended 
 successfully for awhile with his drunkenness. He absolutely 
 won the game. Barton became captious, and was kept in check 
 only by the vigilance of Dmmmond. The latter, finding that 
 the squatter was still able to play his cards with habitual skill, 
 proposed another draught of Jamaica; but Bostwick had under 
 gone a new phase of drunkenness and feeling. He refused dog 
 gedly. The maudlin had given place to the sullen. 
 
 " No ! I m blister d ef I do ! I ll not drink agin jest now. 
 Drink yerself, ef you likes it. I don t. It don t do me no good. 
 I m a-thinking of my children. Jest now, I talked of Dory, and 
 you didn t know what I meant. And when I wanted to deal, I 
 forgot all about it. That makes me know I ve had jest enough 
 for a sober man. Jamaica ain t a sensible liquor ef you takes 
 too much of it. I ve had my share for this drinking." 
 
 " You re right !" quoth Dmmmond. " I proposed as a matter 
 of course, seeing I wanted a drink myself, but it s true, Bost, I 
 thought you had a dose large enough for your business half an 
 Lour ago." 
 
 " You don t mean to say I m drunk !" 
 
 " No ! not exactly drunk, but a little in the fog, that s all !" 
 
2 7 6 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 * In the fog ! It s a sign of fog is it, when I ve been doing 
 all the winning." 
 
 "Psho!" said Barton. " That s all luck hick don t ask if 
 a man s drunk or sober when she turns on his side." 
 
 " You think so ! It s luck ! well ! we ll try luck a leetle more. 
 You don t mind fattening the sheep ?" 
 
 ;< How much ?" 
 
 " Oh ! it don t matter ; put down your go?/ld, as much as you 
 wants to see kivered. That s all I ax !" 
 
 The pile was soon raised. The cards dealt ; the game played 
 and the prize won. Drummond was the successful gamester. 
 His succecs continued until the last guinea of the squatter was 
 put up. It was lost also. Bostwick was once more reduced to 
 his shillings, and pretty well sobered by the reverse of fortune. 
 The shillings, in turn, became the prize of his opponents, and, 
 starting to his feet, he seized the bottle, and swallowed a fearful 
 draught of the fiery liquor. 
 
 "Where is that bloody satan, M Kewn?" 
 
 " Can you get more gold from him, think you ?" demanded 
 Drummond, with a pleasant sneer upon his countenance. 
 
 " Kin I ?" he answered. " Ef I let him off with less than a 
 hundred guineas, may I never taste a drop agin." 
 
 " Let us seek him at the vessel. I have no doubt we shall 
 find him there. I ll go with you as long as there is any hope 
 of the guineas." 
 
 " Come then ! Blast his liver, he s a-dodging me. But he 
 don t know me yit. I ll feel the bottom of his pockets, or the 
 bottom of his heart, this time, ef he s got any." 
 
 "Another draught before we start!" cried Drummond, rising 
 to his feet. The others joined him in his potations. Then they 
 all proceeded to the river bank, against which, almost touching 
 it, lay the vessel. 
 
 " You ll go with us on board ?" 
 
 " No ! You go, Drummond, and bring him out. I ll wait for 
 you here." 
 
 Barton would have tried to persuade him, but Drummond 
 again interposed. 
 
 " No," said he, " there s no use. If he gets more money, he lJ 
 jnly want to go back to the tent to play." 
 
THK HAZARD OK TilK DIE. 271 
 
 And the tAvo went on board the vessel, which lay quiet, rock 
 ing with the tide, nobody visible on her decks, and everything 
 silent around. They soon disappeared from the sight of the squat 
 ter, who threAv himself down on the grass to await their return 
 with M KcAvn. While he lay there, half stupid, yet full of se 
 cret rages, three men left the brigantine and approached him. 
 He noted their appearance, and concluded them to be the two 
 persons Avho had just left him, returning with M KeAvn. Tliry 
 had reached him, when he discovered that they were stranp-is 
 .iiid all sailors. 
 
 "Where s M Kcwn," said he, rising to his feet. 
 
 " In the cabin-," was the reply of one of them, "and the cap 
 tain s spinning a long yarn. He says you must come to him." 
 
 " I ll see him d d first. Tell him to come-to me." 
 
 " Oh ! that s all gammon, my hearty. You must go to him." 
 
 With these words the spokesman laid a hand on Bostwick s 
 shoulder, lightly and without any show of violence ; but a some 
 thing in the tone and manner of the fellow seemed to alarm the 
 squatter ; he pushed him off, recoiled, and clapped his hand to his 
 side, for his knife. It was gone. He Avas disarmed. Not a mo 
 ment Avas allowed for parley. He Avas at once grappled by all 
 the three, lifted off his legs in a moment, and, struggling all the 
 while, was carried on board the vessel. Suddenly, he was let 
 down into the dark but open hold, and slid doAvn and a AY ay, as 
 he thought, into the bottomless depths of the sea. But he soon 
 encountered a solid object. He rolled over a pile of rice barrels ; 
 and grasped at them Avith the hold of one in mortal dread of 
 sinking. The stars, for a single instant, were visible overhead. 
 But a single instant. The opening was then darkened by the 
 figures of his captors. He strove to rise and shrieked to them 
 in question, appeals and curses ; but, with rude laughter, they 
 clapped down the hatches, and left him in unmitigated darkness. 
 
 The hours went by wearily, and, in utter exhaustion, the cap 
 tive slept. When he awakened, he almost sAvooned with the 
 sickness which he felt. The billoAvs were rocking beneath him 
 He AA r as already out at sea. When suffered to appear on deck, 
 the land Avas a mere riband along the verge of the ocean. He 
 was flying, perforce, from his % familiar swamps and fastnesses, his 
 \\ oman and her children. 
 
278 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 " Oli ! Dory ! Dory !" lie cried, as this conviction forced itself 
 upon him. " I m aguine from you, the Lord only knows wlnar , 
 and maybe won t never see yon no more !" 
 
 " One danger disposed of," said M Kewn, to himself, as he left 
 the cabin for he had been there at the moment when the 
 squatter was brought on board " and if Forbes and Drummond 
 can take a hint, the impudent scoundrel will give his secrets to the 
 sea rather than the air. His mouth is stopped for ever !" 
 
 Not so fast, M Kewn. The sea has been known to give up its 
 secrets as well as its dead. We shall see in due time what is to 
 come of all this ! 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 PORGY S NOTIONS OF THE USEFUL. 
 
 As we have no particular motive, just now at least, for follow 
 ing the fortunes of the squatter upon the seas, let us return to 
 the dry land, and, with all speed, to the rained homestead of 
 Glen-Eberley. We left Captain Porgy and his two companions, 
 Millhouse and Fordham, about to console themselves with sup 
 per, after the fatigues of the fruitless search after Bostwick. 
 Lance Frampton had gone to see his sweetheart, and the party 
 of three proved quite adequate to the supper in his absence. 
 Torn, the cook, had recovered his good humor; Pomp, the 
 waiter, after a frequent lessoning from the flat broad hands of 
 his senior, had improved in knowledge of his duties, and activity 
 in their performance ; and the evening repast had been enjoyed 
 with an equal degree of satisfaction by all parties. Fordham 
 did not long remain after supper, but took his leave while Porgy 
 and Millhouse were lighting pipes. While he remained, however. 
 he was an amused listener to the guardian councils of the lattei 
 whose self-esteem found grateful exercise in suffering the guest 
 to see how strictly he held the reins of authority in his grasp, 
 and with what judgment he could rebuke the want of it in his 
 superior. He had employed himself in twitting the captain with 
 
PORGY S NOTIONS OF THE USEFUL. 279 
 
 *11 the thoughtless, profligate and expensive performances of 
 which he had heen guilty, and not only throughout his campaigns, 
 but, as far as he had acquired a knowledge of them, during all 
 his life previous. The suhject had been brought up by a re 
 peated allusion to the guinea bestowed upon the squatter s child. 
 " It s the weakness of the cappin, Mr. Fordham," quoth he 
 "his wery worst infarmity. I m a most thinking its the only 
 one he s got but it s a mighty bad one for a man that wants 
 everything on his plantation for the working of a crop. Sich a 
 man has no right to be ginerous. It s a sort of cutting off one s own 
 life to lengthen other people s. Now, all through the war twas 
 jest the same thing. He d be a giving, whenever he had it, and 
 to all sorts of people. And he was always a giving to them 
 persons from whom there was no sort of reason to ixpect to git 
 anything back again. Now, you know, there s no sort of charity 
 in doing for people who kain t do nothing for you. The proper 
 sense of charity is always to git back for it a leetle more and a 
 leetle better than you give. But Cappin Porgy could never, so 
 far as I see, git the right sense of chanty and ginerosity. He 
 was always a wasting himself on people who hadn t nothing, and 
 warn t in the way to git anything. Ef there was a poor camp 
 woman that had lost her man in a skrimmage, the cappin was 
 the first to empty his pockets into her lap. I ve seed him do it 
 a dozen times. Now, that was all great foolishness. Ef he had 
 given her a matter of three or four English shillings, or we ll 
 say five or ten or twenty pounds continental currency, after it 
 had got 80 plentiful that one might work with a pack of it, and 
 not airh his potatoes after all why there mout have been a 
 justifying of his doings ; but to fling the guineas away, the raal 
 grit, all yellow jackets, three, five, ten jest as many as he had 
 when the shillings would have done as well that was the 
 sin and the foolishness of the business. And the cappin has 
 been very foolish and a great siniiei in that way. Then he d 
 waste himself on the sort of company he kept, Now, cappin, 
 what t}id you ever see in that blasted longshanks, Oakenberg 
 that called himself a doctor a fellow that sickened and killed 
 more good fellows with his yarbs and poultices than he ll ever 
 meet in heaven what did you see in that skunk of a fellow to 
 make you do for him what you did] Why, Mr. Fordliarn. 
 
280 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 would you believe it, the cappin let that fellow who was next 
 door neighbor to a born eediot, set at his mess and feed daily, 
 when Oakenberg couldn t neither bring in food nor game ; 
 couldn t work nor fight ; was the skeariest chap you ever seed, 
 and could only talk conceited about snakes, and how to be safe 
 in fighting in the army. That fellow lived on the cappin, and 
 though the cappin dispised the fellow, and poked all sorts of fun 
 at him, yet he gin him money, and clothes, and food, when he 
 wanted them all for himself. At a famous scrimmage we had 
 here with Fraser at Parker s Ferry, the cappin mounted a British 
 officer, and told him to deliver, and wanted to make him prisoner, 
 but the red coat was either mighty drunk or mighty sassy, and 
 when there was no sense in it, for he couldn t git off, he run his 
 horse close agin the cappin s, and flashed his pistol in his face. 
 Ef the dirty leetle we pon hadn t a-missed fire I reckon he d 
 ha killed him. Well, the cappin fired up furious, and cut down 
 the poor fellow at a jerk cut him clean through his skull to 
 his chin. Tom run in Tom members all don t you, Tom?" 
 
 " To be sure I member," quoth Tom, " wha for bender 1 ? Maus- 
 sa owe me for dat ossifer coat, and breeches, and boots, he gee way 
 to de doctor, to dis day." 
 
 " That s it !" exclaimed Millhouse. " That s it ! Tom ran in, 
 stripped the officer, coat, breeches, boots and all, and ginerously 
 offered ern to his master, the cappin there, after all the fighting 
 was over. What do you think ? Jest at that moment he sees 
 Dr. Oakenberg, with his long shanks and high shoulders pretty 
 nigh naked, and he kicks the whole pile over to Oakenberg." 
 
 " Das true, mass Millh us ! Jes I see dat, I make a grab at 
 de close; de doctor hab no right for tak em; and maussa 
 tu n round short and kick me over. Maussa promise for pay me 
 guinea for em, but I iiebber see de shine of dat guinea face to 
 dis day." 
 
 " It s all true, Mr. Fordham, as Tom tells you ; he kills the 
 red coat with his own hands, and when Tom strips him he gives 
 his rigimentals, first rate broadcloth coat, hat, boots and breeches 
 to the meanest and most undesarving skunk in the whole army." 
 
 " Oh ! Millhouse," quoth Porgy, " had you seen the wistful 
 eyes of poor Oakenberg, as he saw thr.ie breeches, and looked 
 down at his own bare legs " 
 
POUGY S NOTIONS OF THE USEFUL. 281 
 
 "I) 11 his bare legs! He had the meanest looking legs in 
 the army " 
 
 " The very reason why they should he covered out of sight," 
 quoth Porgy. 
 
 " But not at your cost and ixpense !" 
 
 " Why, Millhouse, licten to Tom, and he will tell you that it 
 v. as at his cost and expense. There was the double beauty of 
 my procedure : I not only clothed the naked, but compelled 
 that selfish scoundrel, Tom, to become charitable. 
 
 " Psho don t I know that you ll pay Tom yit ! Don t I know, 
 and don t he know, that he ll git more than he bargained for " 
 
 " What ! more kicks than coppers ?" 
 
 "No! more goulden guineas than you promised. The truth 
 is, cappin, that you re never so foolish as when you ve got money. 
 You don t know any decent way to git rid of it. There, you was 
 always for having that fellow, Dennison, about you, eating the 
 lowance of other men, and drinking more than his share of the 
 Jamaica always and for wiiat 1 What could he do 1 He warn t 
 a reasonable, useful man. He couldn t cook a steak, or bake -a 
 loaf, or, sew his own breeches, or do nothing. He could only joke, 
 sing, and tell redickilous stories, and make them foolish po tries 
 -tink-it-a-tank, tink-it-a-tank one word knocking agin another 
 at the eend of the line, as I may say, agin natur, for where do 
 you hear decent, sensible people talking with a bell ringing in 
 their ears all the time ? That fellow couldn t keep anything 
 money, clothes, hat, shoes, everything went, somehow, and yit 
 the fellow was such a blasted fool that he never seemed to care 
 about it at all, and would jest keep on, laughing and singing, and 
 making his tink-it-a-tanks, and think-it-a-thanks, Arith a sort of 
 looseness that was vexatious." 
 
 " Come ! come ! Millhouse ! you must not be running down 
 my poet. Dennison is a great fellow and has frequently saved 
 me from suicide. More than once, when we were starving in the 
 nwainps, I should have cut my throat, or yours, Millhouse, but for 
 the consolation which Dennison brought me in his verses and 
 songs ; and Oakenberg, though as you say, a great fool, was yet 
 r. fool with a relish. He had the virtue of making himself laughed 
 at, and that afforded relief to sensible people He had his uses, 
 .iiid you must think better of him. I shouldn t be at all surprised 
 
282 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 to see both Dennison and Oakenberg here before long I asked 
 them both to come and see me." 
 
 " The d 1 you did ! You don t say, cappin." 
 
 " Ay, but I do ! you may look for them both some of these 
 days." 
 
 The sergeant threw up hands and eyes in horror. 
 
 " Thar it is ! The old way ! Thar is no eend to the flinging 
 away of some men s guineas. Why, Lord bless you, cappin, ef 
 once they git here, you ll never git shot of them. They re people 
 to stick like a pitcli plaster, and to draw like a mustard." 
 
 " Well, they must %tick then ! Poor devils, they must stick 
 somewhere. The world owes them a living, and they must have 
 it. They Avere born to a certain amount of sunshine, and if they 
 caii find it at Glen-Eberley, while I m master of it, they re wel 
 come." 
 
 " Why, save you, cappin ! They ll do nothing here for a living. 
 They kain t work and they won t." 
 
 " Well, if they can t work here, they can work nowhere, 
 sergeant." 
 
 " That s true ! Let env starve then and be !" 
 
 "No! no! You don t say that from your heart only from 
 your head, sergeant, and your brains, just now, have got into a 
 kink t in consequence of the care and anxiety which you feel 
 about my fortunes. But don t be afflicted. Oakenberg and Den 
 nison, should they come here, will both work for me, though per 
 haps not in the fields." 
 
 " I d jest like to onderstand how, cappin." 
 
 "How!" quoth Porgy, emptying his pips, then looking up 
 and around him, with a somewhat vacant gaze, silent the while, 
 as if listening after a few moments of pause he said 
 
 " Do I not hear a bird ? a mock-bird, singing ? Hark ! do you 
 not hear it now ?" 
 
 All parties appeared to listen; at length, says Millhouse 
 
 " It s the singing of the fire, I reckon, cappin. I don t hear 
 no thing. It s too soon in the season for mocking birds to sing." 
 
 " No ! not when the weather is good. I have heard them, 
 years ago, in all the trees around the house, singing through the 
 winter, and frequently at night, and all night. They attach them 
 selves to old and well settled habitations, and will rear their gene 
 
POBGT S NOTIONS ov THE USEFUL. 283 
 
 rations for a thousand years in tlie same trees, if left undisturbed. 
 They belong to man. I am disposed to think they were creat 
 ed for him, and to do this particular duty. You like their music, 
 Mr. Fordham, do you not ?" 
 
 " Well, cappin, I can t say that I ever hears em much, onlesa 
 when somebody tells me to listen. As for liking their music, I 
 confess, cappin, I d much rather hear a good fiddle." 
 
 " Aud so would I," quoth Millhouse, "though I don t count 
 fiddle music as much either. A good horn is my music, and I 
 count a boat horn on the river as the sweetest of nil kinds of 
 music. I kin listen to that hafe a night, that is, when I ain t 
 too much tired and hungry." 
 
 " I like that too, Millhouse, and I can relish a good fiddle in 
 a crowd. But what would you think of a person who should 
 tell you that hexlidn t relish the boat horn, Millhous.e." 
 
 " Why, I d say he might as well be stone deaf and blind too." 
 
 " At least, you wouldn t suppose he was any the better man 
 for not having an ear for the music of the horn." 
 
 " No ! I d be thinking he was rather the worse for it." 
 
 " Precisely ! well, you ll permit me to feel the music of a bird s 
 gong and not think me very foolish or wicked perhaps, if I say 
 I like to hear it very much." 
 
 " Well, I s pose not ! Every man to his own liking, I reck 
 on there s a sort of natur in every man s liking." 
 
 " Exactly ! That s the very word. There is a nature in it ; 
 and it wa^s to feed this nature, and to work upon it in a myste 
 rious way, that God appointed the birds to build their nests in 
 the trees that surround a man s dwelling. Now, you must know, 
 that it is a fact, however curious, that singing birds never harbor 
 in uninhabited countries. In our great forests, you never hear 
 birds. The smaller birds would become the prey of the larger 
 ones, and they shelter themselves in places which are inhabited 
 in order to be safe. And they reward man for his protection, 
 by their songs, and by the destruction of insects. Now, Mill- 
 house, Dennison is one of my song birds. He sings for me when 
 I ain sad. He makes music for me which I love. It is sou\ 
 music which I owe to him, which finds its way to the ear of the 
 heart, and seems to fill it with sunshine. Now, I call that 
 very useful to me." 
 
284 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 "I could see how twas useful ef he was to eat up the grains 
 and insects, jest like the birds, but " 
 
 " And so he does, Millhouse. The grubs and insects of the 
 heart are its cares, its anxieties, its sorrows, its bad feelings, and 
 vexatious passions. He drives them away he destroys them, 
 lie is appointed for this very purpose, and if men were wise, 
 they would rejoice when they could have such a bird of the soul 
 under their roof trees. It would prove that they had souls, if 
 they could show that they have an ear for his music. Now, you 
 are not any better, sergeant, because you want an ear for soul- 
 music. It is your misfortune, Millhouse, and you ought to be 
 sorry for yourself, not angry with the musician, whose songs 
 you can t understand. You should pray for the proper under 
 standing, and work for it, too ; for you must know that an ear 
 for music of .all sorts is to be acquired ; and the ear opens so as 
 to correspond with the. growing wishes of the heart, and the 
 growing wisdom of the mind. You hear a great deal said, per 
 haps, of education. Everybody seems to wish for education. I 
 have heard you deploring, very frequently, the fact that you had 
 no schooling. Now, schooling and education are meant for this 
 very purpose, to give us an ear for music the music of birds as 
 well as men, the music of the soul, as well as of the throat 
 music which fills the heart as well as the ear music which is 
 not only sweet, but wise which not only pleases but makes 
 good ; for, after all, the great secret of education is to open all 
 the ears which we call senses of a man, so that he can drink 
 in all the harmonies of that world of music, which we commonly 
 call life ! Do not, my dear sergeant, suppose you are any bet 
 ter because you do not comprehend such music as George Den 
 nison makes ; and do not suppose that George is any worse man 
 because he is too apt to give away, and perhaps waste, the 
 tilings which he needs himself, quite as much as the person to 
 whom he gives them. George finds it profitable to give away 
 to waste ! If you knew the satisfaction which he feels at 
 making other people happy, you might be even more extrava 
 gant. He may be wrong, sometimes, in his giving ; but you are 
 not altogether right in judging him so harshly. He values cer 
 tain things too little ; you, perhaps, value the same things too 
 much. You both may be forgiven your offences, which are due 
 
PORGY S NOTIONS OF THE USEFUL. 286 
 
 to a want of proper education, provided you are modest enough 
 never to censure the music which you do not understand." 
 
 Porgy lighted his pipe after this long speech. Millhouse 
 scratched his head and looked dubious for a while ; but after a 
 brief pause, he resumed the subject in this fashion : 
 
 " Well, cappin, all that may be very wise and sensible, though 
 there s some of it I don t zackly onderstand; but I m willing to 
 let it pass this time. But supposing all you say of George Den- 
 iiison is true, and I reckon there s some reason in it, I d like to 
 know what sort of music you gits out of Doctor Oakenberg." 
 
 " Millhouse, do you remember a little Frenchman, named 
 Pelot, that joined us when we were making the forced march 
 after Gainey, toward the Great Pedee ?" 
 
 " In course I do." 
 
 " Well, do you remember a reel in a bottle that he had, that 
 amused half the soldiers, and was too much for all of them to 
 get out of the bottle without breaking it." 
 
 " Yes, I tried it many a time myself." 
 
 " You knew that it was put into the bottle after the bottle was 
 made, and that it could be taken out in the same manner." 
 
 " In course." 
 
 " Well, did you ever hear that reel sing, or speak, while m 
 the bottle ?" 
 
 " Lord love you, no ! How could it ?" 
 
 " Did you ever see it come out of the bottle and dance Y* 
 
 " Diccance ! no !" 
 
 " And you never saw it hoe, or cut wood, or kill game, or 
 cook food, or make clothes, or fight the enemy, or do anything 
 which you consider useful." 
 
 "Never !" 
 
 " Yet, you were curious about it. You tried many a time to 
 lind out the secret. It employed you it interested you it 
 interested most cf the soldiers ; yet, in itself, it was perfectly 
 worthless. It could neither sow nor spin, it could not even grow 
 it was of no sort of value to anybody in camp." 
 
 " That s true, cappin, though I never thought about it." 
 
 " Doctor Oakenberg is my reel in a bottle. His soul is my 
 puzzle; how it got into his carcass where it does nothing use 
 ful where it does not even grow is the problem which ainusef 
 
586 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 me. Now, Millhouse, whatever interests a mim is valual-lb. 
 though it neitlier works nor sings. Whatever may amuse a 
 man is an important agent in his education. Whatever exercises 
 the ingenuity of man, though it be a fool s brains, or a reel in a 
 bottle, is worthy of his care and consideration. I assure you 
 that should George Dennison, or Doctor Oakenberg, pay me a 
 visit, they shall both be welcome. I shall find use in both of 
 them." 
 
 Millliouse muttered something which was inaudible closing 
 with 
 
 " Well, cappin, cf they once comes, they sticks. You will 
 never git rid of them." 
 
 " Be it so ; the more helpless they are the more they pay for 
 the shelter." 
 
 " How s that, when they ve got nothing." 
 
 " God is good security for all the debts of the poor!" 
 
 Millhouse h dgetted ; Fordham rose to depart. Porgy did 
 not rise, but extended his hand from the fireside. 
 
 " Excuse me, Mr. Fordham. Sergeant" in a whisper 
 (; the Jamaica." 
 
 The hint was taken, and the two overseers hob-and-nobbed 
 after the prescribed fashion. Our captain of partisans reminded 
 Fordham of his intention to visit Mrs. Eveleigh next day, ac 
 companied by his subs, and sent a courteous message to the lady, 
 to that effect. When Fordliain withdrew, Millliouse accompa 
 nied him into the piazza and down the steps, to his horse, which 
 was fastened to a swinging limb in front. 
 
 " You hear what redick lous notions the cappin s got about 
 these here things ; and a most wasteful man would he be, ef there 
 wa n t somebody to keep a tight rein over hiinj" and he made 
 the motion, with his one hand, of pulling in the steed. "I does 
 it where I kin, but it stands to reason I kaint go too far, seeing 
 as how he was my commanding officer, so long. But I gives it 
 to him pretty plain, and right for ad sometimes. But I aint the 
 pusson altogether for it. In fact, Mr. Fordham, ef anything s to 
 be done with the cappin, it must be by a woman some raal lady 
 that ll take his case in hand, and guide him right in his driving. 
 Now, he s a raal good man, but a leetle shy of the womenkind. 
 I m a-thinking, though its strange it should be, seeing how long 
 
PORGY S NOTIONS OF THE USEFUL. 287 
 
 lie s been ;\ sodger. that he s sort o bashful. Ef he could git a 
 fine woman now for a wife, a raal lady, I reckon it would he a 
 wonderful good thing for both on em. See what a fine planta 
 tion he s got here, agoin to ruin headlong in his hands onless I 
 kin save it-- and I ll try my best, but I d be sure of saving him 
 and it too, ef so be he had a wife to back me in the business. So 
 long as he s got no wife, you see, he ll be run down by these idle 
 rascals of the army, that aint fit to do nothing but eat double 
 lowance of grub, and swallow any quantity of Jamaica. You 
 hear what lie says of this fellow Oakenberg, who is a sort of 
 yarb doctor, and a most extremelous fool, and this George 
 Deimison, Avho makes jingling stories, that keeps a sort of time 
 with every now and then, a tink-it-a-tank, tink-it-a-tank. Well, 
 these chaps never works ; they ll come here and eat us out of 
 house and home, and all bekaise the cappin haint got a good 
 sensible woman to back me when I wants her, and keep the 
 cappin in order. You see, arter all, it s a good woman and a wife 
 that he wants to make all things right ag in on this plantation." 
 
 Fordham admitted the wisdom of this opinion. 
 
 " As for these idle fellows, they gits no incouragement from 
 me. Ef I have the leetlest chance, I ll send both on em off, 
 and all on em that comes, with a flea in their ears. I aint gwine 
 let the cappin waste himself and his substance upon sich wagrints. 
 I ll have to keep a strict line upon him, for ef he once gits the 
 bit betwixt his teeth, there s no stopping him, and he ll smash 
 and tear everything to pieces. Taint bekase he s naterally 
 vicious, but so long as he s been living in the world, he aint grown 
 bridle wise ; but Lord bless you, a woman could manage him to 
 prefection. It s* the only saving of him and this fine property, 
 and I m glad you gree with me about it, Mr. Fordham." 
 
 Fordham shook himself free with difficulty. The sergeant 
 had many last words, the burden of which invariably led to the 
 repetition of the one opinion, that a wife was the one thing need 
 ful to the wants and safety of his superior. 
 
288 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 CHAPTER XL1I , 
 
 MFLLHOUSE ON THE UTILITARIAN PHILOSOPHY, 
 
 " C APPIN," says the sergeant, returning to the hall, where I oi 
 gy still sat, half drowsing, amidst voluminous wreaths of sinoko 
 which poured from his pipe, "Cappin,you must jcuse what I m 
 guine to say ef I speaks to you mighty free, for ^ ou see, I m your 
 friend to sarve, and I reckon jest about as good a friend for hon 
 est, upright and downright sense and sarviee, as ever you had 
 in all your born days. I don t mean to say that I love you bet 
 ter than some others, say, the Ensign, and Tom, the cook, but 
 I m bold to determine, that I love you more sensible, and for 
 sarving and helping sarviee, than a most ccny other person, let 
 em be as wise as they please. That being the case, I say you 
 must sense me, ef I make free to put you right in the way you ve 
 got to go, and show you how you ve got to put your foot down 
 for the rest of your journey in this life. You must sense me, 1 
 say, ef I roughs a leetle too hard sometimes along the tender 
 places." 
 
 " Excuse you, Millhouse ? oh ! surely, my good fellow. You 
 are usually so very modest and forbearing, tender and scrupulous, 
 that you may well be permitted a little occasional roughness in 
 helping a friend through the world." 
 
 " Zackly, cappin, you re right ; you takes tile right look at 
 the thing as it ought to be, -sensible as I wants you." 
 
 " You are always tender, Millhouse, even in dealing with your 
 enemies. I remember seeing you hew a fellow half in two with 
 your sabre, then, as he was falling, drive the iron handle into his 
 mouth, breaking every tooth in his head. Certainly, his teeth 
 would only be a mortification to him, after he had lost all capacity 
 to eat ; and yet, Millhouse, I should like to be buried in posses 
 sion of a good mouthful of them. Your tenderness in my case, 
 is of a like fashion always ; and if, as a good surgeon, you should 
 occasionally be compelled to be a little rough probing wounds 
 
MILLHOUSE ON THE UTILITARIAN PHILOSOPHY. 289 
 
 already healed, or such as arc absolutely incurable, in order to 
 satisfy yonrfself that there are some sensibilities yet remaining to 
 the patient I am clearly of opinion that you should be allowed 
 the privilege of doing so, if only that the humanities of your 
 nature should be kept lively, and in becoming exercise." 
 
 "Jest so; and I must say for you, cappin, that sometimes 
 you re quite sensible, and have a good onderstanding of what s 
 right and proper in affairs of business. Ef you didn t so much 
 love sich company as George Dennison and Oakenburg, there s 
 no telling, how knowing you d be ; and ef you d only shet up, 
 and not talk about things no common-sense pusson can onder- 
 stand, it would be a great deal the better for you. Now, you 
 don t think that this good fellow, Fordham, know d what you 
 meant to say when you was a-going it about Dennison s po try, 
 and soul music, and all sich fly-away matters 1 I could onder- 
 stand it all, bekaise I ve hearn you at it, day and night, through 
 out the campaigns. But how was he to 1 arn it? You migh 
 jest as well hev talked it to the man in the moon. And what 
 was the use of it, ef he did onderstand ? Why, he wouldn t 
 valley it a continental d n, which everybody knows won t buy 
 a calabash of skim milk. Now, as you don t know nothing about 
 farming, or rice-planting, and as you hevn t any sober idee about 
 any sort of business except fighting, and I say it, myself, you re 
 prime good at that I m a-thinking that you d better shet up 
 quite, when goin it in company with men of business like Ford- 
 ham and me, and jest listen to what we re a saying. You ll 1 ani 
 something by it, I tell you." 
 
 "Do you really think so, sergeant 1 ?" 
 
 " I swow, but I does. It s the only way to 1 arn." 
 
 " It looks reasonable. Leave off talking myself and listen to 
 you and Fordham." 
 
 " Jest so ! and ef there was any other sensible white man, of 
 business, you might listen to him too ; for onderstand me, I m not 
 pretending that Fordham and me are the only people having a 
 right sense of things in this world. There s other people, I 
 reckon, that have learned something of business ; though they re 
 rather scarce in these pa/rts." 
 
 " It s possible ! Well. 
 
 " But there s a time when you rni^ht open, and hev your sav 
 
 13 
 
290 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 capjiui ; that s when you gits among people who lias likings like 
 yourself; young fellows who aint got ixperence in the world, 
 women folks, and sich like." 
 
 " You think I may venture to talk among the women, then ?" 
 
 " Edzactly, cappin ; women are weak vessels that aint expect 
 ed to be reasonable, and things will tickle their ears that are only 
 foolishness in the ears of a sensible man. They will listen to 
 sich stuff as. po try and music, and all the time they re a losing 
 the profits. They re made to sing, and to dance, and to dress 
 up, and make themselves sweet to please the men when the day s 
 M oik s over; and Lord, cappin, you kaint say hardly anything 
 amiss, in the way of wanity and foolishness, ef so be you says 
 it lovingly, and with a sawt of fondness in your eyes all the 
 time. Now, I ve hearn you talk to women, and you knows pretty 
 much what the critters loves to hear. You kin talk it to them, 
 by long stretches, and make it smooth travelling all the way. 
 It s when you gits among them that I m willing for you to open." 
 
 " You are certainly indulgent, sergeant. I am to understand 
 then, that, whenever there are ladies in the presence, I have per 
 mission to speak." 
 
 " I remission aint the word, cappin, for you see, you re your 
 own master, and kin speak always, whenever you re a mind to, 
 IK; matter who s in company." 
 
 "Oh! Ah!" 
 
 " It s jest, you see, as I m idvising you, for your own good. 
 Taint bekase I ve got any power to shet or open your mouth, 
 but I wants you to sec, for your own self, what s best for your 
 own benefit. You see your ixperence is jest none at all in the 
 way of business. You don t know what s useful in the world. 
 You only know what s pleasant, and amusing, and ridickilous, 
 and what belongs to music, and poetry, and the soul ; and not 
 about the wisdom that makes crops grow, and drives a keen bar 
 gain, and swells the money-box, and keeps the kiver down. 
 Now, I reckon, you d always git the worst of it at a horse-swap. 
 You d be cheated with a blind horse, or a spavin d, and you d go 
 oft on three legs, though you come on four. Now, ef there s 
 wisdom in this world that is raal wisdom it is in making a 
 crop, driving a bargain, gifting the whip hand in a trade, and al 
 ways falling, like a cat, on one s legs. As for music and po try 
 
MILLHOUSE ON THE UTILITARIAN PHILOSOPHY. 29] 
 
 and them things, it s all flummery . They don t make the pot 
 bile. I likes the fiddle when there s a crowd, and after the day s 
 work s done, and the horses fed ; but ef there s one music in the 
 world that s more s\\ r eet than another to the ears of a man of 
 sense, it s the music that keeps -tune to the money coming* in 
 I m minded of what was said by a man up on the Edisto, not 
 very far from Orangeburg, who was jest about the most sensible 
 white man of all that country. He was one time at a sort of 
 ball, or party, in the village, and there was a lady who was 
 playing on the ha psichord and singing, and she said to him, 
 Squire, does you love music? then he up and said Music, 
 ma am ! kaint say that I does, cept one kind. And says she, 
 What kind s that, Squire V Says he Ma am, that s the 
 music of my mills on the Edisto ; they keeps a grinding and a 
 sawing night and day, and all the time they seems to be a singing 
 in my ears "Dollar! dollar! dollar, oh! dollar! dollar! dollar, 
 oil ! : That s the music for me, ma am ! and sure enough, that 
 was what I call useful, business, mercantile music. He made a 
 foriin by it, and died worth, Lord knows how much, but they did 
 say, a most four hundred thousand dollars ! But any other kind 
 of music is apt to draw the money out ; not bring it in ; and that s 
 the sin of it. It is, I say, a sinful practice that s always a drean 
 ing the pockets, and never putting anything in." 
 
 " It is clear, Millhouse, that you have studied the philosophy 
 of music with great closeness. You are evidently well prepared 
 to be a teacher. You counsel me to speak as much about poetry 
 and music to the ladies, as I please, but to avoid it Avholly among 
 men of sense, unless, indeed, I have something to say about mer 
 cantile music." 
 
 " That s it ! For, look you, cappin, jest give a look round to 
 the world " and here the sergeant rose, and stretched his one 
 arm out with measured movement, circling the hjill, as if grasping 
 the poles " look round at all the world, and wherever you look 
 you see that the great necdcessity everywhere is the gitting of 
 bread. When I says, gitting of bread, I means, of course, gitting 
 of bread and meat, and drink, clothes to wear, and the tools to 
 work with. But bread and meat is the first an-d greatest need- 
 cessity ; for without it, there would be no world, nor no men, noi 
 
292 wooDCii.vrr 
 
 no women. Now, then, what does I larn from that. Jest answer 
 me that." 
 
 " Well, sergeant, what you would learn from it, it might be 
 difficult for me to say; you have studied the subject so profound 
 ly that it is not easy to follow you." 
 
 "Well, cappin, it ought to be cl ar to you, but I ll show you. 
 I larn from all that that the great business of men on this airth 
 i-; eating that is to say, eating and drinking, and clothing 
 fighting agin starvation and thirst and cold weather." 
 
 " It is certainly a business that is done pretty extensively 
 universally I suppose, since I have never known a man or wo 
 man refuse to oat at proper hours." 
 
 " And onproper hours too, and at all hours, cappin ; that is ef 
 they hev it. And the business of life is to hev it. Now, ef that 
 be the great business of life, it stands to reason that them ocky- 
 pations what don t bring in bread and meat and drink, or the 
 money to buy it, is treasonable, ^natural, and ^respectable 
 ockypations. Aint it cl ar to you so?" 
 
 " I m afraid, sergeant, if 1 make any farther admissions you ll 
 be for knocking George Dennison on the head." 
 
 " Accordin to the argyment, he and Oakenberg, and all of 
 them worthless sawt of people, that only makes music and not 
 bread, ought to be knock d on the head ; as Scriptur says of the 
 tree that don t bring fruit, hew it down and cast it into the fire. 
 Well, the laws of the land don t follow out the laws of God. 
 Ef we was to cut down them idle fellows that sing and make 
 varses when they ought to be at the plough tail, we d be hung 
 a most without jt dge or jury, jest as ef we d been doing agin 
 the laws of Scriptur, instead of following them out rightly. The 
 men that makes the laws of man, cappin, I m jubous, are mighty 
 poor followers of the laws of God. Ef they wasn t, we d git rid 
 of a mighty gre^t deal of rubbish." 
 
 " Well, but, sergeant, when a man has earned all the bread 
 and meat, and drink, and clothing, that he needs, is he to be 
 satisfied ?" 
 
 " Satisfied ! no ! He s to work on, and on, and what he s got 
 over and above his wants, he s to send to market and sell, and 
 git all the money f>r it he kin." 
 
 " Ah ! well. what is he to do with that money?" 
 
MILLHOUSR ON THE UTILITARIAN PHILOSOPHY. 293 
 
 "Why, increase his force, ana his land, to be sure." 
 
 "Why, that will only increase his money!" 
 
 " To be sure ; and that s what he s to aim at. He s to go on 
 gttting, and gitting, and gitting, to the end of the season, ontill 
 Death gits him. As lie gits, lie kin increase his comforts git 
 better bread, more meat, pass from apple and peach brandy to 
 old Jamaica ef he likes it, git wine, though I never seed the 
 wine ye f , that could shine the same day in the face of good Ja 
 maica : git better clothing; hev his horse to ride; prehaps his 
 carriage, and jist make himself a sort of king, in the way of 
 comforts." 
 
 " Well, these got, should he spend his money on nothing 
 else?" 
 
 " Nothing, that I kin see. He s got all that s needful. Then 
 he s for gitting as good bargains as he kin then he s for gitting 
 to be a ruler ef he kin gitting to be a colonel or a gineral in 
 the militia ; gitting to be a representative and a senator in the 
 legislatur ; gitting to be a Justus of the peace ; gitting to be a 
 sawt of king over the people, and making them all feel that he s 
 got the money to buy and sell em, every mother s son of em, 
 ef he pleases." 
 
 " Well, that must be a very delightful sensation. But would 
 you not use some of this money for charity would you not give 
 Oakenberg his living, if only to catch snakes and make a col 
 lection ? Would you not help Dennison to his dinner ?" 
 
 " Not a copper on your singing birds and idlers. They should 
 starve for me. Not a fellow that wouldn t work would I feed." 
 
 " But, Millhouse, you would do something for religion, wouldn t 
 you ?" 
 
 " Why, to be sure. It s expected of a rich man that he ll go 
 rigilar to church and set a good example, and help pay for the 
 preacher, and put something every month in the charity box, 
 and be decent and rigilar, jist that lie mayn t lose by it, sence 
 people respects religion, and it might be onprofitable, and hurt 
 ful to one s business, ef he didn t make good signs that people 
 should see. To be sure, I go for religion that s right, and every 
 right religion s bound to uphold the man who is rich and helps 
 to pay ixpenses." 
 
 " You have admirably grasped the whole subject of profitable 
 
294 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 duty, sergeant. I should not have answered exactly as you 
 have done, on the subject of charity and religion ; but I have no 
 doubt that you have answered as correctly and fully us the most 
 profound utilitarian philosophers would have done. And now, 
 what say you to a little Jamaica ? It s a part of your system to 
 drink as well as eat." 
 
 " It s the needful, cappin." 
 
 The Jamaica and water were brought by Pompey, and when 
 their cups were filled, quoth Porgy 
 
 " Well, Millhouse, considering the lesson you ve been giving 
 me, suppose we drink to the man who is wise enough to open his 
 mouth only in the proper company." 
 
 " That s it, cappin ; jist you mind what I ve been telling you, 
 and you ll work upward yit into cl ar water. You re opick to 
 1 arn, I see ; and only you give up this foolish po try and soul 
 music, cept when you re among the women and listen with 
 good will to what men of business and sense is a telling you, and 
 there s no saying how sensible you ll grow in time. Here s your 
 health and the Lord presarve you, cappin, and git you into a 
 strong position agin the approaches of the sheriff." 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 MILLHOUSE THEATETH TOUGHLY OF THE TENDER GENDER. 
 
 SUDDENLY the barking of a dog was heard without. 
 
 " It s a dog !" quoth Millhouse. " Some nigger dog, I reckon. 
 I ll kill every nigger dog I see on the place. You hear that, 
 Tom ! you hear Pomp ! member it, boys. I don t low nigger 
 dogs on any place Avhere I m manager. I knows what s the 
 natur of a nigger dog, cappin, and what they re kept for/ 
 
 " But, won t that be rather hard, sergeant 1 a negro likes coon 
 and possum. Ask Tom there about possum." 
 
 " Possum better than pig, maussa." 
 
 " We almost learned to think so ourselves, sergeant, in the 
 army. How often should we have gone without meat but from 
 dogs bringing in c/>on and possum." 
 
MTLLHOUSE AND TFIK TKN!>i:i; O KNDER. % 2% 
 
 "All coon dogs, on this place, cappin, must be owned by a 
 white man ; by you, by rne, or by the lieutenant. A nigger dog 
 is a hog-dog by nater ; and where the nigger eats one possum, 
 he eats five pigs. It s the infarmity of a nigger s dog and a 
 nigger too, that a fat pig makes his eyes rim water. No nigger 
 dog here, cappin, onless you says so." 
 
 " But, sergeant, even if it he, as you say, that a negro dog is 
 always a hog dog, and I m perfectly prepared to believe the as 
 sertion, still there would be no harm in having such an animal at 
 Glen-Eberley, since it will be wonderful if a solitary pig is to be 
 found on the premises." 
 
 There was no gainsaying this humiliating fact, and it took the 
 sergeant all aback for a moment, but only for a moment. He 
 was a man of resources and prompt reply. 
 
 " But they ll come, cappin ; pigs will hev to come ! You ll 
 her to git half a dozen brood sows with your first money, and 
 begin to stock the plantation." 
 
 " Well, corporal, wont it be quite time enough then to get rid 
 of the dogs ?" 
 
 " It s a shorter way not to let em begin to harbor here. Lay 
 down the law at the beginning. That s my way wherever I 
 manages, and then there s no mistake." 
 
 The barking of the dog now became more audible without, the 
 sounds alternating with sundry lively blasts of a bugle. 
 
 " It s Lance Frampton," said the captain ; and the tread of 
 horse s hoofs succeeded to the words. In a few moments the 
 young lieutenant entered the apartment, accompanied by a good- 
 looking dog of a somewhat mongrel aspect, a sort of cross of 
 wolf, cur, and beagle which shrunk back timidly toward the 
 entrance, on finding himself confronted with so many strange 
 faces or, he might possibly have seen something in the looks 
 of the sergeant to inspire him with a proper caution. 
 
 " Where did you get your dog, Lance ?" 
 
 " From Mrs. Griffin, captain. She had two and only wants 
 one, and she tells me this is a famous fine coon dog, which is no 
 use to her as she can t hunt, so she gave it to me. We want 
 fresh meat, captain, and I m for a hunt this very night, if I can 
 get some of the boys to go." 
 
 Pomp, who was in attendance, began to grow fidgety. 
 
296 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 " There s a volunteer already," quoth Porgy, pointing tt 
 Pomp ; "he has shifted his carcass from one leg to the other a 
 dozen times since the dog made his appearance. Do yon want 
 to take a coon to-night, Pomp ]" 
 
 " T ank you, maussa, I berry happy, ef you please." 
 
 " To be sure, old fellow. I m quite pleased if yor can make 
 yourself happy by the performance." 
 
 " I guine too," exclaimed Tom, the cook, who had just at that 
 moment thrust his oily face into the apartment. " I too hungry 
 arter coon. I usen to been know all bout de coon and possum 
 quarters on dis place ; and I tell you, ef dere s anybody yer wid 
 sense to find de fattest warmints yer he am ! me, Tom." 
 
 " They ll all go ef you let em," growled the sergeant, 
 " They ll hunt all night and won t be worth a cuss to work to 
 morrow. Look you, Tom, don t carry off all the hands with 
 you ; let em sleep. You and Pomp are quite enough, or you 
 may take one other fellow with you. Three on you ought to 
 empty the woods of all the possums in em." 
 
 " I yeddy [sometimes yerry, otherwise hear you j mass Mill- 
 h us," answered Tom impatiently, and by no means seeming to 
 relish the voice of authority from that quarter : " Tom know 
 berry well wha for do in he maussa business. Coon and possum 
 mus be ketch in de time when der s no fresh meat for de pot. 
 So ! Pomp ! : Look at me, boy ! " 
 
 * I da look, uncle Tom," said Pomp reverently. 
 
 " Tom berry quick for march, boy, but you hab for lam some 
 ting fuss. You bin in camp ebber, you d ha been larn at de 
 rope s eend. Tek dat bucket, boy, and run to de spring and 
 git de water. Spose maussa want for drink when you gone and 
 der s no water ? Spose gemplemans, ossifers and ginerals, hap 
 pen for come in when you gone and maussa hab for ax em to 
 swallow de raw rum enty you ll feel mean nough when you 
 yer bout it ! Git de water, boy ; tir [stir] you stumps, and 
 help Peter git de lightwood. Der mus be coon fight to-night, 
 ef dem tory rascal aint eat de country out." 
 
 This was said pretty much in such an aside to Pomp as the 
 stage tolerates. Meanwhile, Frampton was making his report 
 to the captain, of his day s visit, and of certain friendly messages 
 of Mrs. Gniiia and daughter, in response to those with which 
 
MILLHOUSE AND THE TENDER GENDEB. 297 
 
 Porgy had commissioned his lieutenant. The former appeared 
 to take quite an interest ii these particulars ; a circumstance 
 that seemed to produce some uneasiness in the sergeant. After 
 a while he interposed with 
 
 " You re making a mighty long story of it, lieutenant, and I m 
 a-thinking you re a burning daylight. Ef you are to hunt the 
 coons, the sooner you re off the better the sooner you ll be 
 back, and the niggers git their sleep and be ready for a good 
 day s work to-morrow." 
 
 Frampton quietly took the counsel, whistled his dog down the 
 steps of the piazza into the court where Tom was already busied 
 in hewing lightwood for the necessary torches. So soon as he 
 had disappeared, Porgy said 
 
 " Why, what the d 1 sort of work can you put the negroes at 
 to-morrow, Millhouse 1 What s to be done ?" 
 
 " A hundred things ; rails to be split ; fences to be made ; 
 poles to be got out for nigger houses ; land to be broke up for 
 planting ; ditches to be cut ; banks ^paired ; there s no saying 
 how much is to be done !" 
 
 " But where are the tools, my good fellow, the hoes, shovels, 
 axes, ploughs " 
 
 " Don t you mind, cappin. I m overseer, aint 1 1 Well, I ve 
 seed to all that. Onder the piazza is all them spades, and shov 
 els we ve been a using to-day ; and Mr. Fordham told me, with 
 out my axing, that he could spare me a few ploughs and axes, 
 and other little matters, ontill you could lay in supplies in town. 
 He sa ; d twas the orders of Madam Eb leigh that I should 
 liev em." 
 
 " Mrs. Eveleigh is certainly as provident as she is liberal L" 
 remarked the captain. 
 
 " And it s them very vartues, cappin, that you re a-wnnting 
 ere. to make the pot bile, and to see that it don t bile over. Ef 
 you ll keep your eyes right, cappin, you won t let the chaince 
 .dip of getting yourself into good quarters. It s cPar to me that 
 Mrs. Eb leigh s giving you the right sort of signs, and you ll be 
 IK blindest sawt of a sarcurnstance of a. white man, ef you don t 
 uike the right motion from what she shows. A nod s as good as 
 a wink to a blind horse, and the man that wants more than the 
 pull of a sleeve, from a fine woman, to understand what slit 
 
 13* 
 
298 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 wants, why I m a thinking lie aint the valley of a dea I dog with 
 three buzzards pulling different ways at his earkiss. I m con 
 siderate of you, eappin, and your sarcumstances, and I m cl ar to 
 say that the charitablest thing you kin do, when you sec how 
 the cat wants to jump, is jest to open the windows and give her 
 a cl ar track. Don t you be waiting upon Providence tell some 
 wiser man walks in and takes the fat turkey off the nest. I d 
 be at her, bright and airly, to-morrow, and I wouldn t wait a 
 week, ef she s willing, before I brought her home to your own 
 roost." 
 
 "You re quick on trigger, sergeant. Does it not sometimes 
 occur to you that you re a very rapid man ?" 
 
 " I reckon tis bekaise I was born in a hurry. I came into 
 the world in a hurry, and never waited for the midwife. I 
 grow d up in a hurry, and in all sawts of wickedness. I reckon 
 no person ever 1 arned his vices so quick as me. I never seemed 
 to want book or teacher. Lord love you, I charged into em, 
 jist as I charged among the inimy s baggage, and held on to cm 
 as loving as if they was so many army stores, with the money 
 chist in the middle. If I had any vartues, they come slower, 
 but I was pretty fast with them too ; and fast motion is a vartue 
 by itself, when you ve got to do with man or woman, friend or 
 inimy. For, what s the truth, eappin 1 Lord love you, there 
 aint much time lowed to a man in this life. What he s got to 
 do, he s got to do in a hurry, ef it s to be done at all. Ef lie 
 pokes and saunters, grim Death gobbles him up afore he gits to 
 the eend of his journey. Well, this courtin of a woman is jist 
 the sawt of business that calls for fast usage. It s a sawt of race 
 where the hindmost wins nothing but loses. You kaint stop to 
 look behind you. You must go ahead, jist as if the d 1 had 
 you on an eend, and you had no chaince to git on and off, but by 
 bolting like a mad bull, even though you should lose your skairtr- 
 in the run. And a woman of ixperance likes a man the better 
 if he gives her no time for long thinking. Courtin is like storm 
 ing an inimy s batteries. Women expects naterally to be taken 
 by storm. They likes a good ixcuse for surrenderin . You must 
 go it with a rush, sword in hand, looking mighty fierce, and 
 ready to smite and tear everything to splinters; and jist then 
 she drops into your arms and stops the massacre by an honest 
 
MILLHOUSE AND THE TENDER GENDER. 299 
 
 givi.u iii. You re loo strong for me, I see, says she, when she 
 surrenders 130 she goes on, only spare my life and take 
 every tiling I ve got ; and she gives herself in into the bargain ; 
 - what we sodgers calls a surrinder at discretion. But you 
 must, jest filiow her that you are determined to conquer; that 
 you kain t be marciful : that you must hev everything or lose, 
 everything; and that your name s master from the beginning." 
 
 " Really, sergeant, you must have enjoyed a wonderful expe 
 rience among the sex." 
 
 " It s hard to say what I hevn t seed in my tim^, among all 
 sorts of people ; an it s hard to say where my ixperance eends 
 in dealing with people man and woman. I m showing you, 
 cappin, by the teachin I m a-giving you." 
 
 " You are a sage, grave counsellor, Millhouse, and I am bound 
 to suppose being myself inexperienced, particularly among 
 women that you counsel wisely. But have yOTu only a single 
 rule for your operations ? Is it possible that you recognise no 
 difference among women, and that you use the same policy with 
 all?" 
 
 " Lord love you, no ! In course, you re to tmderstand that 
 man is the born master ; but every master knows that you man 
 age hands differently, each one accordin to his natur. But wo 
 man is born with a knowing that some day she s got to find a 
 master. That makes her ready for him when he comes. But it 
 skears some, them in perticklar that haint got no ixperence. 
 With a woman of ixperence, storming s the way; and a fort, 
 you know, that s been once stormed knows all about it, and kin 
 be easily stormed agin. But the fort that s never been taken, is 
 to be managed different. You don t let sich a fort see all your 
 strength at once. You don t show all your sodgers in front. You 
 manoeuvres, and inarches and countermarches. You don t let the 
 garrison see where you re guine to make the attack. You ap 
 proaches cautious, cappin, and you works by sap. But I needn t 
 tell you of what s needful in works of war. I only mean to show 
 by a sawt of picter which you onderstand, how you re to work 
 with women. The young gal you captures by insinivations, but 
 the widow Eb leigh s no young gal. She s had ixperence of 
 things ; and you re to conquer her jest by storming and scalade, 
 Put on your biggest thunder now, cappin, and go to the attack 
 
300 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 with a shout and a rush, and dang my peepers ef she don t sur 
 render at the first summons." 
 
 " Certainly, you hold forth a very encouraging prospect. But, 
 sergeant, marriage is a very serious business. To a man who lias 
 been free all his life, has had nobody j;o restrain his conduct, out 
 goings and incomings, there is something positively frightful in 
 the kind of bondage which it makes. It sometimes happens that 
 instead of the woman getting a master, the man gets ;\ mis 
 tress. There s a great part of this in most marriages. To recon 
 cile one to the danger, I suppose, the passion of love was in 
 vented " 
 
 " Love ! Oh ! Lord, don t talk of sich child s play as that, I 
 beg you ! Marriage is business ; taint love. It s airnest work ; 
 taint sport ! Nobody, I reckon, marries for the sport of the 
 thing, ef he s once cut his eye-teeth. Your boy and gal marriages 
 is a sort of baby house business. When we talks to grown men 
 and women about the thing, we means an argyment, and a reason, 
 and a sense, and a needcessity. You aint surely guine to tell me 
 of likes and dislikes in the business. Nobody ixpects you at 
 your time o life, to have any sich child feeling of love, sich as 
 works upon infant young fellows, that s just begun to 1 arn the 
 run of the woods." 
 
 " But I confess, sergeant, if I am to marry, I should like to 
 consult my tastes in the matter. I confess that I believe myself 
 not a bit too old to have an affection." 
 
 " Fections mustn t stand in the way of business. How s the 
 case ? You re bad off in plantation ,9<7^cumstances. You want 
 everything, and kaint, by your own self, keep what you ve got. 
 Well, jest beside you there stands a rich widow. Site s well off 
 in plantation sarcumstances. She kin save everything for you. 
 Isn t the case cl ar enough to a person with only h<\fe an onder- 
 standing." 
 
 " Still, I am for having a certain feeling satisfied call it. taste, 
 or affection, love or what you will, sergeant, if I m to marry and 
 . lose my liberty, I must know that my jailor is a lovely one." 
 
 "Oh! Lord, cappin, don t be foolish and ridickilons. I ve no 
 patience with such etarnal throat-cutting sentiments. Don t you 
 resk the best chance in the country on sich foolish idees. What 
 right hev you, at youi time of day, and in your sarcumstances 
 
MILL1IOUSE AND THE TENDER CENDER. 301 
 
 to talk about sich boy and gal sentiments. Here you re at forty- 
 five, with your head gitting as grey as ef twas rolled over in a 
 meal bag; with your body all of a heap in the middle, and the 
 pins mighty slender for sich a weight to go upon ; and your sar- 
 cumstances all in a kink, and knotted upon with the ringers of 
 that ctarn.il wannint, the sheriff; and yet you re a-talking of 
 love, and sentiments, and defections, jest as ef you knowd no 
 more of human natur than a lad of seventeen, who s jest begin 
 ning to spread sail for a breeze. I kaint let you talk sich foolish 
 idees, cappin ! Twont do, I tell you. I wont hev it ! You 
 shan t throw away the good fortin , jest as it s a- tumbling, ripe 
 into your mouth, ef I kin help it. Twoulcl be a sort of right 
 that your friends would have to give you a good choking first." 
 
 "Ah !" said Porgy, drily, "such friendship as you describe 
 is somewhat rare, sergeant." 
 
 44 As I m a living man, cappin, I d be the man to do the thing 
 ef twas for your good and to save you ; and I d do it jest as free 
 and bold as your own self when you surgined my arm to the 
 saving of my life I would!" 
 
 " Thank you, sergeant, thank you ! I acknowledge the pecu 
 liar frankness of your friendship, but trust never to make it ne 
 cessary for my friends to choke me, in order to make me take 
 my medicine." 
 
 " Fruit, not physic, cappin." 
 
 " Well, fruit ! But suppose there are other fruits that I hap 
 pen to like better than that which you offer me. Suppose, to 
 speak more to the point, there should happen to be another wo 
 man whom I happen to like better than Mrs. Eveleigh ?" 
 
 " Ha ! is it that ? Well, the only thing to ax is the other 
 woman in the same sarcumstances as Mrs. Eb leigh, ready and 
 able to help you out of the halter of the sheriff]" 
 
 " Don t name the animal quite so often, sergeant, if you please." 
 
 "Well, I wont; but I ax agin is the other woman as well 
 off as the widow Eb leigh 1 Has she as many goulden guineas, 
 as many niggers ? " 
 
 " Not a stiver that I know of not the hair of a negro." 
 
 " Can t be, cappin, you re thinking of the widow Griffin 1" ex- 
 c aimed the sergeant, rising to his feet and confronting Porgy 
 with a lo n k of blank astonishment " 
 
302 TOODCRAFT. 
 
 " Griffin is a prettier woman than Mrs. Evcleigh. 
 " Diccance ! cappin ! what liev you got to do with purty wo 
 men. What s a purty woman to a man in your sarcumstances ?" 
 
 " Why, Millhouse, do you suppose, because a man Avants money, 
 he must also want, good taste." 
 
 " Taste ! that s another of them foolish idees ! I thought I 
 had given you a right notion of all sich things. A man what s 
 poor and in danger of the sheriff has no right to hev a taste." 
 
 "But suppose he can t help it, sergeant suppose he has the 
 f aste whether he wills or no ?" 
 
 Then the Lord have marcy on his sarcumstances. But, cap- 
 pin, you kaint afford to hev a taste for the widow Griffin. She s 
 a mighty comely woman, I confess ; but comely in a woman is 
 as comely brings. It s not what a woman looks, but what she 
 owns, that makes the comely ; and you kaint afford to encourage 
 her ixpectations, cf she s got any. Your business is with widow 
 Eb leigh, and you kaint git over the needcessity afore you, try 
 it as you may. It s a law of natur, in your sarcumstances, that 
 you marries her, and nobody else ! 
 
 Porgy was silent, looking thoughtfully into the fire, his pipe 
 hanging over his knee, forgotten in his grasp. Millhouse rose, at 
 the close of the last speech, in which he had uttered his decree 
 as emphatically as if it had been that of the Medea and Persians, 
 and motioned with his one arm to the Jamaica. 
 
 " Aint you thirsty, cappin ]" 
 
 " No, sergeant, but I am sure that you are very dry. Helji 
 yourself, and don t wait on me." 
 
 * It s a bad sign when a travelling horse won t drink, cappin." 
 
 True, sergeant, tut though one man may carry a horse to 
 water, ten can t make him drink, when he s not willing." 
 
 " Why. Lord, love you cappin, there oughtn t to be any great 
 on willingness for you to marry the widow Eb leigh. She s got 
 a mighty sweet face." 
 
 True." 
 And a mighty plump figure." 
 
 " True." 
 
 And the whitest skin, cl ar red and white; and sich a soft 
 blue eye, and sich sweet lips, so red and ripe like;" and the 
 Bcvgonnt swnllowod half the contcn-ts of the cup, and smacked 
 
MILLHOUSE AND THE TENDER <JEtfDER. 303 
 
 bis lips as heartily as if in the actual encounter with those of the 
 widow. 
 
 " And she s young for her age, and with sicli a nice, full figgcr; 
 not a bit too stout, not over fat, but jest right. Why, cappin, ef 
 taste, as you call it, was to decide, and the taste was a downright 
 honest, good sodger taste, why it would choose the widow Eb leigh 
 a thousand times before the widow Griffin." 
 
 " I will drink, sergeant," said Porgy, rising and approaching 
 the barrel, on the head of which the water jug, the Jamaica and 
 the cup, found a temporary asylum. He filled, and when about 
 to drink, he said : 
 
 " You are a philosopher, sergeant, such as the world every 
 where respects. But though your philosophy succeeds pretty 
 generally, in the world, you never would." 
 
 " En why not, cappin ]" 
 
 " Because the chief secret of the success of such a philosophy 
 as yours is that it never vaunteth itself. It s professors never 
 publish their virtues as you do. They are content to practise in 
 secret what you mistakenly praise. They do what you Breach, 
 and preach against what they themselves do. Pride thus dis- 
 courseth of humility with moist lips ; selfishness thus becomes 
 eloquent in its exhortations to self-sacrifice ; and the good preacher 
 will possess himself of the fattest ewe lamb of the flock while 
 insisting on the beauties of a perpetual lent. But what say you 
 to bed ? It will be some hours, I fancy, before the lieutenant 
 and the boys get back from their coon hunt, and we may enjoy 
 a good sleep meanwhile. We must also rise soon in the morning, 
 that we may see what we arc to wear to-morrow. There must 
 be some patching of my garments, before I shall be able perfect 
 ly to appear at the widow s table ; and you too, in all probability, 
 will need some adhesive plasters, front and rear." 
 
 " I m glad you re a-thinking of that, cappin. You must put on 
 your best front, and put your best foot for ad, for, jest hev what 
 tastes and idees you think proper, you kaint git off from marry 
 ing that widow." 
 
304 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 TUB GHOST AT GLE\-EBERLEY EMBRACES THE SERGEANT 
 
 vi et armis. 
 
 WHEN Porgy had retired, Millhouse mixed for himself anothei 
 cup of Jamaica, with water, laid it down before the fire, drew a 
 blanket up to the hearth, squatted upon it, pulled off his shoes, 
 and exposed his naked feet to the blaze, He replenished his 
 pipe, drew a keg near his back, leaned against it with the air of 
 a man who was about to enjoy life philosophically, and, with a 
 few vigorous puffs, encircled his head with a becoming atmo 
 sphere of cloud and vapor. With the momentary removal of 
 the pipe from his jaws, he moistened his lips with the Jamaica. 
 He again dried them with a puff, and again moistened them with 
 the provided beverage. The philosophic mood thus properly 
 stimulated, he began, sotlo roce, to soliloquize upon affairs and 
 tilings around him, his reflections prompted by the conviction 
 that he had been gratefully opening the eyes of his superior to 
 truths and a wisdom which the other was slow to arrive at. 
 
 " He s down in the mouth ! He aint in good sperrits. It s a 
 needcessity to make him see how the matter stands, and what 
 he s got to do in his /?mlicaments. Well, to say truth, for a wise 
 man, and a smart man, and a man what s seen sarvice, the cap- 
 pin is jest about as foolish as a young person of sixteen. And 
 it s mighty strange at his age, he should be so bashful. Here, 
 it s cPar to every man what s got an eye to anything, that this 
 here rich widow is ready with the bridal garments. She s to be 
 had for the axing. I watched her mighty close when they war 
 a-talking together, and ef ever a woman s eye said, Look at me 
 I m at your sarvice, stranger, her eye said that same thing to 
 he cappin. Yet, for all that, his cussed bashful ness won t see 
 and believe it. But he shan t want for the incouragings to mnke 
 him come up to the rack and taste the fodder. It s good fodder 
 
THE GHOST AT GLEN-EBKKLEY. 305 
 
 well-cured fodder, and a plentiful armful of it too ; and there s 
 good corn where the fodder comes from, and he .shall crack that 
 corn, ef he s got a tooth in his head, and ef he haint, I ll hev it 
 ground fdfr him. But eat it he sh/11 ! Don t I see the woman 
 likes him to kill. And he aint an onlikely pusson in any wo 
 man s sight. Ef twarn for his almighty gairth, he d be a figure 
 to go through an army of women, and take his pick as he went. 
 I ll take a hand at gitting her to-morrow, and I ll see that Tom 
 takes in his belt a few holes closer. He must be made to look 
 his best. Ef he had some new clothes now ! His old buffs are 
 mighty full of stains. Twont do to wash buff breeches in 
 swamp water no how, and to dust em with swamp mud hurts 
 their complexion more than the water. But with good brushing 
 we kin make em pass. A -most everything in the way of clothes 
 will pass where a woman s eye s already quite full of the pusson 
 himself." 
 
 Putting the pipe into his mouth, he drew it, fiercely, and send 
 forth several enormous jets of smoke, which kept up the due phil 
 osophic consistency in the atmosphere, then taking another sup 
 of the Jamaica in order to maintain his own. mental consistency, 
 he proceeded, still in under-tones, to soliloquize in respect to his 
 superior. 
 
 " Talk of Mrs. Griffin ! What kin Mrs. Griffin do for him I 
 What kin he do for Mrs. Griffin? Why it s jest the same as ef 
 we tied both of em in a poke together, and gin em to the sheriff 
 to sell at public cry ! And who d buy 1 The price they d bring 
 wouldn t pay for the cost of selling. The woman\ good looking 
 enough mighty good looking I d say, and jest the sort of wo 
 man to suit me, ef there was any sense in my marrying at 
 all. Whether I d be wanting a wife would a-most altogether 
 depend on the sort of eencome I could git out of it. She s got 
 a small place, nice farm enough, a good comfortable house 
 upon it, with a horse and a cow, and a few pigs and chickens ; 
 and ef there was nobody but her one, why it might be no 
 bad sence for me to be greeable and take her ; but there s her 
 marriageable da ter, guine to be married too, to the Lieutenant, 
 and leetle enough there ll be for the three to feed on. Twont 
 do ! a sensible marriage, for a man, means the bettering of his 
 ttjmunstances, and there s no bettering in sich^-*i business. 
 
806 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 When ono marrios, it s the sarcumstances that he s got, to consider 
 and not tho woman that hangs on to em. It s neither for me 
 nor the cappin to think of the widow Griffin, though of it s to 
 be done by either on us, why it s for me to do it. It s ffie t other 
 woman s sarcumstances that he s got to consider, and he ll hev 
 to come to the scratch whether he wants to or no." 
 
 A renewed puffing at the pipe was followed by another sip 
 of the Jamaica, and the utilitarian philosopher proceeded, still 
 sotto race, to consider " the sarcumstances." 
 
 "Everything pends on what he does and says to-morrow. 
 I ll be thar, and I ll push him for ad. I ll make the chance for 
 him and the argyment too, ef so be I sees him playing shilly 
 shally. It s mighty fortinit for the cappin that she axed me to 
 go too. I reckon she seed for herself, that I know d something 
 that aint to be larned in books, and it s fortinit for the cappin 
 that I m his friend, that aint guine to see him lose a good game 
 without telling him when it s the right time to fling doAvn trumps ! 
 I must put the lieutenant up to help me, and Tom kin throw 
 in a word, seasonable, to strengthen the argyment. And may I 
 be etarnally squashed under a mountain of swamp, fenced in 
 with alligators, ef we don t git possession of that widow and all 
 she s got." 
 
 Another succession of fierce puffs at the pipe, and then a re 
 newed moistening^) f the lips with the Jamaica. The soliloquy 
 was then resumed: 
 
 " She s got more than a hundred niggers, I reckon. That s 
 Tom s thinking. She aint got no debts to pay, and aint afeared 
 of no sheriff. She must divide them niggers betwixt the two 
 places, hale here and hafe there ; and then we ll see which makes 
 the best crops, Fordham or me ! Fordham s a good enough chap 
 I m a-thinking ; but he aint had the benefit of seeing the world 
 in the army. I made good rice, I reckon, fore ever Fordham 
 seed backwater. When a man lives always in one place he 
 he don t know much and kaint Tarn nothing. I ll show him the 
 good of army life for bringing sense into a family. As for the 
 drill among the niggers, I reckon I ll make him open his eyes 
 wider than ever any tarrapin lying on the flat of his back, and 
 the water biling fast for him to thicken. Ef I don t beat him at 
 a crap, then my daddy had no right to his own son !" 
 
THE GHOST AT C.LEN-EBERLEY 807 
 
 The sergeant continued to muse ami speculate, for two goodly 
 hours after his worldly fashion. Porgy s chamber was silent. 
 He probably slept. So thought Millhouse. Frampton was still 
 absent on his coon and possum hunt; on which enterprise he had 
 been accompanied by Tom, Pomp, and several other negroes, 
 all eager to procure a supply of fresh meat, and to renew sports 
 which always brought them pleasure. It might be hours still 
 before they would return, since it requires, sometimes, a large 
 circuit of woodland and swamp before the dog scents his prey. 
 Millhouse, in the meantime, had ceased to soliloquize. He had 
 been kept wakeful a long time, in consequence of the singulai 
 variety and activity of his scheming fancies; but he was begin 
 ning to succumb to drowsiness. He had emptied his pipe of its 
 ashes, swallowed the last drop of the Jamaica, and pushing away 
 the keg from his back, prepared to roll himself up in his blankets, 
 when he fancied he heard a footfall in the back piazza. In half 
 listless mood he listened. The step ceased, and he drowsed. 
 Then he was awakened by what he thought a rustling against 
 the door. He raised himself up, threw a brand on the fire, 
 which was beginning to sink, and saw it kindle and blaze up 
 brightly. Remembering the robbery of the previous night, he 
 kept his eyes keenly fixed upon the door. He was afraid to 
 rise for his pistols, which lay in the opposite corner, lest he should 
 frighten off the intruder, and he was too anxious to get at him 
 to suffer this, if possible. He resolved, accordingly, to wait till 
 the last moment. All on a sudden, while he looked and listened, 
 the door was pushed open, and a tall female figure stood before 
 him in the dusky opening. There was evidently female drapery 
 that he could distinguish but all else was undiscernable 
 He remembered, for the first time, that the captain had told him. 
 the night previous, that the house was haunted ; and the thought 
 now seized him that this was the ghost. The sergeant was brave 
 enough, as the world goes, but he could not prevent a strange 
 uncomfortable shudder from passing through him. He did not 
 will to believe in ghosts, but what else could be the intruder ? 
 
 "Who s it?" he cried out, after a pause, in accents somewhat 
 less confident and formidable than those in which he had dis 
 coursed to Porgy of the proper philosophy. 
 
 "Who s thai* ?" he demanded ; and the stranger advanced into 
 
308 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 the room, a tall, slender form in a sort of loose, dingy white 
 garment, the draping of which seemed somewhat to confine its 
 movements. It happened, vexatiously enough, that the fire 
 upon the hearth, which had blazed up brightly enough but a 
 moment before, seemed almost to expire ; a circumstance so aptly 
 associated with the presence of the stranger as somewhat to con 
 firm the fancy of the sergeant that she was certainly the house 
 hold ghost. He remembered, in an instant, what he had heard 
 in his young days of the lights burning dimly and blue, in the 
 presence of the spectre, and he could conceive of no less influence 
 which could so effectually, and in an instant, deprive fat light- 
 wood of its proper inflammable virtues. He began to feel 
 more and more disquieted, while the silence of the intruder 
 added to his doubts. Again he cried out, this time raising 
 his head, if not his voice, and speaking with prodigious effort 
 
 "Who s it, thar, I say?" 
 
 The answer dispelled his apprehensions immediately, 
 
 "Da you, rny chile?" 
 
 The voice was that of a negro as well as a female. 
 
 " Who s afraid of a nigger ghost !" exclaimed the sergeant aloud 
 and rising to a sitting posture. 
 
 " Who s you ! I say ! and what hev you come for." 
 
 "It s me, my chile! It s you own ole woman Sappho! 
 Enty you member de ole woman you own nuss, de same 
 Sappho wha bin mind you a t ousand times. De Lawd be praise 
 for bring you back dat de ole woman kin hug he chile once 
 more, fore he dead for ebber." 
 
 With these words the speaker darted forward, and, falling 
 upon her knees upon the blankets of the sergeant, seized him 
 in her firm embrace, and before he could recover from his sur 
 prise, and extricate himself, hugged him closely to her bosom, 
 and bestowed upon his cheeks, a flood of kisses from a toothless 
 mouth ! 
 
 " Git out ! Oh ! thunder Oh ! Hello ! I say ! What the 
 splinters are you after! Whoo ! D !" 
 
 Thus, half suffocated for a moment, the sergeant vented his 
 horror and surprise. He struggled fiercely, with his one arm, 
 to push her away ; but she had him at great advantage. He 
 vas in a sitting posture, swathed half in blankets; and, kneeling 
 
THE GHOST AT GLEN-EBEULEY. 309 
 
 beside him, the ghost had grappled him about the neck, and in 
 the ardor of her kisses had almost succeeded in pressing him 
 over upon the floor. 
 
 " My own chile !" she sobbed ever as she kissed. 
 
 " But I aint ! Git out, I say ! Lord, old woman, who the 
 
 h-1 kin you be, and what s you after ! Child be d d ! Me a 
 
 child!" 
 
 " My belubbed infant ! I hab you in my arms agin, fore I 
 dead ! De Lawd be praise !" 
 
 "Infant, be !" 
 
 " Oh, my chile !" 
 
 " Child ! you old fool ! What s you thinking about !" 
 
 " Dat old Sappho should ebber lib for see dis day ! I kin dead 
 happy now ; the Lawd be praise !" 
 
 " Dead ! I wish you was, and the old d 1 had you !" 
 
 " My chile my bes belubbed son !" and she blubbered aloud. 
 
 " D n my splinters, old woman, ef I don t be the death of you 
 for sartain. I ll knock you into the leetle eend of a sarcumstance 
 ef you don t let go." 
 
 " It s you own ole Sappho, my chile ! You no know you own 
 lijss; you own good ole woman, old Sappho, my son! Wha 
 you push me way for ? I bin nuss you in dese arms a t ousand 
 times, and -I lub you better clan all de worl . Don t push me 
 way ! I lub you too much for leff you ; I wunt le you go !" 
 
 " We ll see that ! Lord ! that I should live to be squeezed to 
 death by a nigger, and suffickafed in the arms of a raw-head and 
 bloody bones like this ! You old scout of satan, you I ll !" 
 
 The sergeant, swearing, and almost shouting in his rage, at 
 length succeeded in extricating himself from the blankets ; then, 
 throwing off the loving intruder who had evidently mistaken her 
 man, he managed to gain his feet, and to stand erect, with his 
 one arm extended, the fist being now doubled until it wore the 
 appearance of an awful maul, such as the rail splitter employs 
 m driving home his wedges. The strange woman, singularly 
 named after the tender-hearted wanton who flung herself away 
 for love of the phlegmatic Phaon, had by this time arisen also ; 
 and, recoiling from the person she had so closely grappled but a 
 moment before, she stood some five paces off, curiously regarding 
 him, now satisfied of her error, and quite as much confounded as 
 
310 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 he was wrothy. It was at this moment, when the sergeant, fully 
 persuaded that, if a ghost, th^ person before him was sufficiently 
 substantial to feel the force of arguments such as it was in his 
 power to deliver from his knuckles, was preparing to fall npor 
 the intruder, tooth and nail, that the captain of partisans, aroused 
 by the voices and the struggle, made his appearance in his night- 
 clothes, but with a blanket over his shoulders, and interposed be 
 tween the parties. 
 
 " Who s this, Millhouse ? What s the matter ]" 
 
 Before the sergeant could answer, the woman pushed beside 
 him with a cry. 
 
 " Dis dab him ! Dis dah my own chile !" and with sobs of joy 
 she threw her arms about the neck of Porgy as she had done 
 about that of Millhouse. 
 
 " Why, hello ! my good woman ! Who do you take me for ? 
 You are quite too free in your affections." 
 
 Porgy endeavored to extricate himself, but the effort was as 
 difficult in his case as in that of Millhouse. Millhouse witnessed 
 the effort, and chuckled outright. 
 
 " It s your turn now, cappin, and your right by nater !" 
 
 " My chile ! my chile ! You no know you mudder miss, you 
 own Sappho, wha bin min you when you bin leetle baby, only 
 big like my ban ." 
 
 " Sappho !" cried Porgy, " what Sappho, is it you, my poor 
 old mauma ! my good old woman!" 
 
 " Dah him ! Dah me ! my chile ! my chile !" 
 
 "And a pretty sizeable sarcumstance of a child he is!" cried 
 the sergeant, laughing at the spectacle. 
 
 " There, Sappho, my good old woman, that will do now," said 
 Porgy "come into my room and let us sit down where I can 
 hear you." 
 
 " Da s it, my son ! Oh ! how I wants for tell you ebbry ting 
 what s pass and gone;" and clinging to his arm the old woman 
 accompanied the captain to his chamber. 
 
 " I ll bring you some lightwood, cappin," quoth the sergeant. 
 44 you ll be wanting to see, I reckon, the sawt of pusson you re 
 a-talking to." 
 
 The lightwood was brought, the fire soon put into a blaze, and 
 beating himself on one corner of his blankets, the captain, with 
 
THE GHOST AT GLEN-EBERLEY. 311 
 
 some difficulty, persuaded the old woman to deposite herself on 
 another. The sergeant with his blanket wrapped about his 
 shoulders, took his stand beside the mantlepiece, his stump-arm 
 resting upon it, while he looked curiously ^pon the group, and 
 listened with interest to what was said. The spectacle was, in 
 deed, a sufficiently curious one. 
 
 Porgy, as we already know, is somewhat of a spectacle him 
 self, particularly with a toilet incomplete. But his companion, 
 now, is one in admirable contrast with himself. She was very 
 tall and thin a mere skeleton, in fact her garments loose and 
 light, rather hanging about than fastened to her person. She was 
 about seventy-five years old, or more. The successive wrinkles 
 of her face, drooping together at last, hung about her cheeks 
 and chin, like a once well filled, but long emptied purse. Her 
 teeth were entirely gone ; the lips, unusually thin, finding no 
 resistance upon pressure, had sunk in, making a deep valley 
 across the face, the nose on one hand and the chin on the other, 
 both prominent and sharp, rising up like peaks of Teneriffe. The 
 scant hairs which thinly covered her head, and escaped beneath 
 the old handkerchief which wrapped it, were gray as the moss 
 upon the old oak, and not much unlike it in texture and curl. 
 But her eyes were as bright, sliming out in the general black 
 ness, as two fiery little stars, preparing for battle. They were 
 small and deeply set, but as intense in their gaze as if the pro 
 prietor were fifteen only. Toothless wholly, the old woman was 
 not tongueless. The tongue, indeed, seemed to find it necessary 
 to do double duty in consequence of the deficiency of the teeth; 
 and eager, yet mumbling the words the while, the ancient wo 
 man ran on, all the while, with little or no pause, ejaculating hr.i 
 thanks to heaven which had vouchsafed that she should see " her 
 chile agin !" 
 
 " But you no know me, my chile. You bin fo git old Sappho ! 
 Enty I know. You kaint tell me. Hah ! das de way wid de 
 world. You back tu n, you gone, you in de ground, de berry 
 chile you bin carry in you arms, he fo git all bout you !" 
 
 " But I didn t forget you, mauma ! As soon as I saw you 
 fairly, I knew you ; and I only wonder I didn t know you Dy 
 your voice." 
 
 " It s de teet , my chile ! De tect gone ! De old snag drop 
 
312 WOODCllAFT. 
 
 Ou t 5 de berry las ob em drop out de beginning ob dis winter. 
 Nary one [never a one] left now for me chaw pon. Ah I de ole 
 woman is a-gwinc fas , my chile. It s de preticklar blessing ob de 
 Lawd dat I leff fo^see you git back to you own home and people. 
 De Lawd be praise for all he mussies ! " 
 
 "Well, mauma, I m truly happy to see you once more alive. It 
 reminds me so much of everything of my mother of the old 
 wagon of the little bay ponies, and the rides we had together 
 down to uncle Dick s. Why, how could you think, Sappho, that 
 I should ever forget you ? " 
 
 "It s de way ob de worl , my chile! an I was afear d dat when 
 you git out in de worl fair, an see de people, an git mix up wid 
 de sodgcrs, you would shame for tink bout poor ole woman, da s 
 a nigger, too." 
 
 " Never, Sappho ! I have thought of you a thousand times, and 
 I m more glad to see you now, still living, and still able to sec and 
 to speak, than I should be at meeting with the best white friend 
 I have. But, Sappho, you must tell me about everything. I want 
 to know how you escaped in the general sack and confusion. 
 When I sent Tom out here once to see how things went on, he 
 could find nothing of you, and hear nothing. He only gathered 
 that the British and tories had been here, had gutted the planta 
 tion and carried off all the people. You were believed to be dead, 
 Sappho, and though not much given to weeping, I shed some 
 tears for you, mauma. You may believe me, old woman, for I re 
 membered you not only for yourself, but for others who were very 
 precious to me." 
 
 " Enty I blieb s you, my chile. It do de ole woman heart good 
 to blieb you. I knows you got a good heart, yourse f, my chile, 
 and dough, I knows, you lub much better to laugh dan to cry, I 
 knows too you kin cry when dar s casion for it. But, yerry [hear 
 ye] my chile. I gwine tell you all about wha happen sence you 
 bin gone." 
 
 And the old woman smoothed her garments in front, laid her 
 hands crosswise on her lap, then beginning a regular swinging 
 or see-saw motion of the body, to and fro, proceeded with a long 
 and somewhat tedious, but clear and intelligible account -of plan 
 tation affairs up to the moment when the negroes were dispersed 
 or carried off by the enemy. We will not afflict the reader with 
 
THK (iliUSr AT (JLKX-KBKKLEY. 313 
 
 this narration. But preserve only such portions of it as particu 
 larly arrested the attention of Sergeant Millhouse. As he stands 
 somewhat in the relation of a third party, it is possible that what 
 impressed his regards, will not be unworthy of the attention of 
 other persons, the more particularly, indeed, as the matter was 
 of some importance to the pecuniary affairs of Captain Porgy. 
 
 " Soon as I yerry, my chile, dat de red coats bin pon Gillon 
 place, an bin carry off de people, dat berry time I scare. Den 
 I say to meself wha for homier em come yer, an carry off 
 we people too 1 Je s I bin link dat ting, I begin gedder [gather] 
 up for de swamp. Pot, kettle, pan; I tie em up in de blanket. 
 I say to Caesar boy, clap em on you back; den I say to 
 Cha lot, my biggest da ter ; he marry Cromanty Ben, my chile, 
 you member " 
 
 "Yes! yes!" 
 
 " Well, I say to him, pick up you tings. Do like you see me 
 do. I tell de same ting to Betty, my second da ter. He bin 
 marry Eli, you member." 
 
 " Yes ! yes !" 
 
 " lie hab he four chillcn [children] tree gal chile an one boy ; 
 Cha lot only hab two chillen ; he loss two wid flection ob de 
 bowels; well, I say to Betty, pick up you chillen and tings, 
 chile, we hab for hide, I see. An I make him go right off to 
 he husban wha bin a-work down in de big pine ficl , and tell 
 em for drop he hoe, and pull foot dis way. My t ird da tor, 
 Dinda [Lucinda], you member, I tir him up too and make em 
 gedder up he chillen. ITo hub tree, but he husband dead dis 
 two year. Den we tell Hulsto Jenny, and seal arm Sally, and 
 leetle Jupe de boy wha hab de bow leg, you member, and 
 he two sister -all ob cm hab bow leg we tell em wha s de 
 trouble corning an we would ha bin tell all our people, but, 
 you see, day [they] was scatter, .some in de cowpen fid , some 
 in de long tater [potato] fiel , wha jine pon Miss Ebleigh ; some 
 one way, some tuclder [t other] an dere s [there s] no time for 
 loss, an we kaint see dem. So we people start by our own se f 
 [selves], me, an my tree da ters, Cha lot, and Betty, and Cind.iv 
 wid my gran chillen, Liz and Mart a, Cha lot chile ; an Bob, 
 an Rachel, an Clough, Betty chillen ; an Scip, an Andra, an 
 
 14 
 
314 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 Harry, Cinda chillen ; dem s all my ginerations wha I bin carry 
 in de swamp ; but Cromanty Ben, Clia lot husban , an Eli, 
 Betty husban day gone wid us too, and four udder women, 
 Edisto Jenny, an seal arm Sally, an Sukey and Pussy, sfsteiv.n 
 of Jupe and Jupe liese f all ob dern wid de bow legs all 
 ob dern gone wid us an dem s all the ginerations ob de chilhui 
 ob Adam, my cliile, dat git off wid us in de swamp, when wo 
 yerry de red coats is a-coming. An we carry ebbiy ting we 
 kin lay hands pon, an carry em safe an easy de pot an de 
 pan, an de blanket, an de clo es, an de axe, an dc hatchet, 
 an de knife wha ebber tings we kin pick up in do hurry, wti 
 carry clem off wid us clean. An , time for us do so, my chile, 
 for when we peep out de swamp, de whole nigger quarter da 
 bu n, an wha ebber clem udder people bin leff dere, he bu n to 
 cinders an ashes for you kin say free prayer to de Lawd for 
 all lie mussies." 
 
 The sergeant had shown himself very restless during all this 
 narration. He shifted his position from side to side of the man 
 tlepiece ; crossed over; now stood behind the captain; now be 
 side the old woman, and, at moments, had his eyes and hand 
 lifted up as if in meditation ; or, as the fingers of his one hand 
 were crooked and elevated successively, it might be in computa 
 tion. When the old lady had reached what seemed a natural 
 pause in her relation, the sergeant, as if unable to contain him 
 self, cried out, over Porgy s shoulders 
 
 " Why, old lady, you don t mean to say that you ve got all 
 these niggers in the swamp now ?" 
 
 " De Lawd be praise, sah, clay s all libbing [living], cept little 
 Jupe, do bow-leg, wha dead by break he neck ; he fall from 
 tree he bin climb one night for catch possum, and nebber kick 
 arter he touch de airth." 
 
 "All living but leetle Jupe !" quoth the sergeant, lifting his 
 surviving hand, and separately displaying the ringers sundry 
 times before his own eyes, muttering all the while the talc t<> 
 himself, with eager rapidity. 
 
 " Ef that s the case, ole woman, cording to my count, you ve 
 got in the swamp, not counting you, jest eighteen. niggTrs. 
 There s your da ter Charlotte, and her t\vo children (!;.-. ; ; 
 three her husband makes four; Betty and her husband, find 
 
THE GHOST AT GLEiN-KBERLEY. 315 
 
 four children, that s six, in all ten ; then Cinda, her three chil 
 dren and her husband " 
 
 " Cinda husban dead, sah !" 
 
 " Ah ! yes ! that s true ; well, Cinda and her three children, 
 making four, put to the other ten, is fourteen, by all counts ; 
 then there s two other women, that s sixteen, and two bow-legged 
 gals, is eighteen ! Eighteen niggers and most of em women ! 
 And you mean to say, old lady, that all these people are jest 
 now in the swamp a-hiding?" 
 
 " As de Lord is mussiful to me, sah, day s all derc, cept JUJK,, 
 as I bin tell you, wha bre k he neck, by fall from de tree when 
 he hunt possum !" 
 
 " Jimini ! that s great intelligence, cappin. And how many 
 of these is grown niggers, old lady how many of em good to 
 take up the hoe now, and " 
 
 " No matter, sergeant," said Captain Porgy, who had been 
 sitting silent, rather sad, indeed, listening to his ancient nurse, 
 " there are other more necessary questions 
 
 " Sappho, have these people any clothing ? Your own gar 
 ments, inauma, are thin enough." 
 
 " Ah ! my chile, we bin see berry hard times ; de cloding 
 [clothing] is moss in rag ; an we try for keep warm by de fire ; 
 nn we aint feed so well, my son ; an when Cromanty Ben come 
 into de swamp last night an say to me, " Mammy, dere s a smoke 
 coming out ob maussa house windows ; I wonder Avho day in 
 maussa house ? I say de Lawd be praise ef my chile is come 
 home to git his people clo es and blanket. Den day all gree 
 dat I must come out and see ; dey all fear d for come, for fear 
 de toiies an de red-coats grab em. Day knows dat day nebber 
 gwine carry off poor wort less old woman like Sappho. So I 
 come, maussa, an dis de trute ob all my ginerationV in de 
 swamp." 
 
 " Jiminy ! captain ! But that makes the force quite expecta 
 ble. We ll do. But we ll be a-wanting more hoes and axes j 
 more supplies ; you must make a bigger list, cappin ; we must 
 make a main fine crap this year, in spite of sarcumstances." 
 
 And the sergeant strode -the room to and fro ; his one hand 
 waving at intervals ; his fingers still crooking and extending in 
 occasional computations; and his form rising up into unusual 
 
oil) \V(. 
 
 erectness, while, though walking in his stockings only, he made 
 the floor qniver with the solemnity of his tread. The old woman 
 had more to say, and Porgy more to ask, but, the interruptions 
 of the sergeant were too frequent to suffer other parties much 
 liberty, and these interruptions were the more frequent and more 
 impatient as Millhouse fancied that Porgy dealt in much very 
 irrelevant matter. The latter, accordingly, put a very sudden 
 close to all further talk that night, by saying : 
 
 " Well, old lady, it s time now that we should sleep. We are 
 very weary, and you, at your time of life, must not sit up too late. 
 Let me give you something to make you strong. Sergeant, we 
 must take a sup of Jamaica, with my old nurse." 
 
 " Won t I, cappin ! She s a sensible old woman, and I like 
 her. The way she dodged them tories and red-coats, and saved 
 them niggers for us, is desarving of a drink. And I took you feir 
 a ghost, old lady, would you believe it, and ef you hadn t a-hug- 
 ged and kissed so close, I d mout be ha b lieved it to the very 
 last." 
 
 " Scuse me, sah ; but I fought it was my own chile, all de 
 time." 
 
 " Oh ! you re scusable enough, under the sarcumstances. But 
 let s have the drink all round." 
 
 The Jamaica was broached, and the cup which Porgy poured 
 out he handed to the old woman. 
 
 " Drink that, Sappho, it ll help to strengthen your old limbs." 
 
 " T ank you, my chile. The Lawd is good. God bress you 
 for ebber, a t ousand times, my son ! may you nebber see trouble 
 in de house ag in !" 
 
 And she drank. 
 
 " Ha ! it makes rne feel warm to de heart. It s a good physic 
 for olc people, my chile." 
 
 " And for young ones too, old lady," quoth Millhouse, empty 
 ing the cup at a swallow. Porgy drank, then giving Sappho a 
 blanket, he conducted her into the shed room which had been 
 assigned to Tom. 
 
 " Here, mauma, you will sleep to-night. To-morrow we ll see 
 what s to be done for the people in the swamp. Lie down now 
 old lady, and take your sleep. Good night." 
 
 When the captain returned to the hall, the sergeant seized 
 his arm 
 
THE SERGEANT 1\ A MAZE. oil 
 
 " By the powers, cappin, luck s with us. We ll do. We 
 have a force now that begins to tell twenty-five niggers, and 
 fill, I reckon, able to hoe a task." 
 
 "Let us sleep now, sergeant!" said Porgy. 
 
 " Sleep ! May I be squashed unconvartibly for ever, ef 1 
 shall be able to shut an eye to-night. I ll have to think over 
 everything what s to be done with these other niggers." 
 
 u As you please, sergeant ; but you will suffer me to sleep if 
 you please." And Porgy disappeared. Millhouse threw him 
 self down by the fire 
 
 " Sich a man ! he s got no more ambition than a dirt-eater 
 with agy [ague] on him. He kaint even shake, he s so wanting 
 in the proper sperrit!" 
 
 Let us drop the curtain for the present. 
 
 CHAPTER XLV 
 
 THK SEUUKANT IN A MAZE. HE RETORTS UPON THE GHOST 
 
 SOMETIME after midnight, Lance Frampton and his sooty 
 companions returned from their nocturnal hunt. They had been 
 tolerably successful, having bagged three possums and a coon. 
 The dog had proved his merits, having had a severe fight with 
 the coon, who* was a well-grown monster, and gave in only after 
 a long contest ; yielding without a cry to the great disappoint 
 ment of Pompey, who was particularly anxious to extort this 
 sort of acknowledgment from the victim. Frampton soon fold 
 ed himself up for sleep in his blankets, not disturbing Millhouse, 
 who slept soundly in spite of his own convictions to the contrary. 
 He muttered and turned in his sleep, evidently dreaming earn 
 estly ; Frampton being able to distinguish a few broken sen 
 tences, in which the sergeant seemed to be still busy in a diffi 
 cult but interesting arithmetic 
 
 "Eighteen and seven twenty-five; seven women no, 
 nine and two and the boys and boo ! boo ! boo ! " 
 
 The speech was swallowed in the snore. Our friend Tom, 
 the cook, accompanied by Pomp, wa^> somewhat surprised to fin3 
 
318 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 his chamber partly occupied, and by a woman ; but Sappho 
 awakened at his entry indeed, the old woman had scarcely 
 slept age never sleeps very soundly and she made herself 
 known to him in few words, and soon put him in possession of 
 all the history as it is already known to us. This was done in low 
 tones so as not to disturb the household. Pomp was soon as 
 oblivious of the outer world as a stone, and Tom finally en 
 treated the ancient lady to forbear all further revelations for the 
 night. 
 
 " Kaise, you sees, aunt Sappho, dis ere boy, you humble sar- 
 bant, he s a-most breck down wid tire. Ef you bin know all 
 wha he bin do to-day, and dis ere coon hunt to-night, you 
 gwine say youse f, de chile better hab he sleeps. I glad for see 
 you, aunt Sappho, berry much glad for see you ; kaise you bin 
 olc fellow sarbant wid me, and I bin ycr you bin dead. But 
 you aint dead, I see, and I hopes berry much you aint gwine for 
 dead, long time, and so, aunt Sappho, as I bin said a-ye-ho-he- 
 yo he-me, ya-ya-ya!" (yawning with open jaws, wide as those 
 of the great cave of Kentucky) ; " I must hab some sleeps now ! 
 and de Lord bress you, aunt Sappho an I ll tank you to shct 
 up now !" 
 
 " Tek you sleeps, my son ; I sees you wants em. I terra 
 [tell-aj you ebbry t ing nudder time. You kin sleep now, I 
 done !" 
 
 "Da s a good aunty! nudder time will do !" And Tom soon 
 followed the example of Pompey, and save for -an occasional 
 growl from Frainpton s dog, and a more regular succession of 
 noises, scarcely so pleasant, from sundry nasal eminences grow 
 ing upright in several parts of the household, all would have 
 been entirely quiet. There was no further disturbance during 
 the night. 
 
 Bright and early, Sergeant Millhouse was afoot. His dream 
 ing and waking thoughts had greatly contributed to his power 
 and importance. He scarcely gave himself time to get his 
 clothes on, before he presented himself at the entrance of the 
 little shod room to which Sappho had been consigned. 
 
 "Hello! old lady Sapphy, in there come out, and let s 
 have a good look at you by daylight." 
 
 There was no answer. He repeated the summons. It way 
 
THE SERGEANT IN A MAZE. 319 
 
 still unnoticed. He grew impatient, and, with a single kick at 
 the door, sent it open, and penetrated the chamber. It was dark. 
 He threw open the window the room was empty. There was 
 no sleeper, male or female, in the apartment, and "which sur 
 prised our sergeant still more no signs of bed or blanket. 
 
 "Why, what the d 1 ! WVM ha thought an old skillyton 
 of a woman like that would a 1 Inn out and off so early! I 
 reckon she s down stairs among the niggers." 
 
 Down he goes to see. The negroes were just turning out, 
 only half wakened, 
 
 " Hello ! there ? whore s the ole woman, ole Sapphy ? 
 
 " Sapphy ! Ole woman ! Dar s no ole woman yer, mass 
 sergeant," 
 
 " No ole woman ! Why, where kin she be ? Ah ! she s 
 gone to see her chile, the cappin ! Mighty fine child, I m a- 
 thinking. A leetle too large for his petticoats, by reason that 
 he grows so fast." 
 
 And with a glorious chuckle at his own wit, the sergeant as 
 cended to the captain s chamber and broke in without ceremony. 
 Porgy was already up and at the window shaving. He had 
 been up for some time, had heard the sergeant s inquiries below, 
 and knowing thoroughly the sort of person with whom he dealt, 
 could very well understand the motive of his anxiety. Porgy 
 had seen old Sappho already that morning, and spoken with her 
 at the window. The old woman, with her blanket around her 
 by way of a cloak, was already moving off to join, and make her 
 report to her " generations" in the swamp. She had but few 
 words with her foster child for such Porgy had been and 
 they were such as the reader can readily conceive from what 
 has been shown already. As the sergeant thundered up the 
 steps and entered the piazza, our captain of partisans readily 
 conjectured that the next visit of Millhouse would be to himself. 
 He prepared to disquiet him. 
 
 " Hello ! cappin ; would you think it, that old skillyton of a 
 woman s off a ready ?" 
 
 " What woman do you mean, Millhouse ?" 
 
 " What woman ! Why old Sapphy, to be sure, that I tuk fo? 
 a ghost that come in upon me last night, and gin me such a 
 huggin , and a-kissin , and all on your account." 
 
320 
 
 " I really don t know what you re talking about, sergeant." 
 
 " Don t know what I m a-talking about !" quoth Millhouse, in 
 amazement "Don t know, cappin ! Why, Lord love you, the 
 old woman, your nuss, that calls you her child, that hugged and 
 kissed both of us till we was a-most choked and smothered the 
 one that s got the niggers in the swamp, seven ginerations and 
 more, making in all eighteen good hoe hands. Lord save us, 
 how kin you forgit sich a matter !" 
 
 " Forget ! How should I remember a matter which I never 
 heard of before. You re certainly dreaming, sergeant." 
 
 " Dreaming, cappin ! Ef I thought so, I d be mighty apt to 
 bust my brains out agin the fireplace ; but you re a-joking only. 
 Sartainly, you kaint forgit the skin-dried old skillyton of a woman 
 that slept in here last night ; and we kim [came] into your room, 
 both on us ; and you was a-setting thar, jest on the edge of the 
 b anket, and she was setting thar jest on t other edge ; and I 
 stood up thar jest agin the fireplace ; and how she told us of 
 her gitting away from the red-coats and the tories ; she and her 
 three da ters I member all their names perfectly ; there was 
 Charlotte, and Betty, and Cinda I kniut forget and Char 
 lotte had two children, and Betty four, and Cinda three, and two 
 on em had husbands living, though I kaint be sartain which, all 
 on em in the swamp, and there were two bow-legged gals, and 
 there was a bow-legged boy, and Irs name was Jupe and, you 
 kaint forgit that ! Jupe fell from a tree, climbing a ter coon, 
 and jest broke his neck outright ; and there was other niggers, 
 making eighteen in all, not counting old skillyton Sapphy her 
 self; I counted em all up last night, and ranged em off for 
 working, soon as they come in, so far as I could, not having seed 
 any on em. You must member all that matter, cappin." 
 
 " Not a syllable ! It s all news to me, sergeant !" And Porgy 
 gazed on him with a well-affected amazement of stare that pro 
 voked the most natural consternation in the world in the features 
 of the other. 
 
 " The d 1 you say ! But, Lord, cappin, you kaint be forgit- 
 ting your own ole nuss, Sapphy." 
 
 " I never to my knowledge, Millliouse, had a nurse with such 
 a name, which seems to be that of a heathen goddess." 
 
 " Heathen h-11 ! cappin ; she set thar, I tell you." 
 
Till-: SKIK. KAXT IN A MAZE. 321 
 
 " Impossible, sergeant." 
 
 " And she warnt in your room last night ?" 
 
 " Not that I know of." 
 
 1 Lord help me, ef I shan t go crazy ! And I warnt in youi 
 room last night 1" 
 
 " It may be that you were. You know best. If you were, it 
 was while I slept." 
 
 " Slept ! By the powers, cappin, you was wide-awake as a 
 black fish ; and when the talk was over, we all kirn out, and 
 swallowed a little Jamaiky by way of medicine. And we gin 
 the old nigger a cup for the good news she brought, and then 
 you gin her a blanket, and you showed her yourself whar to sleep 
 in Tom s room, and thar we left her." 
 
 " This is a strange delusion of yours, sergeant. But why not 
 go to the room and find her there, if you say you saw her go 
 there to sleep ?" 
 
 " Lord save me, but you put her thar yourself." 
 
 " There you are mistaken ! But, if such is your notion, go 
 and seek her there." 
 
 "I ve been thar, and she s not thar!" cried the sergeant, in 
 a state of approaching perspiration. 
 
 " I thought so !" muttered the captain of partisans, in subdued 
 tones, but sufficiently loud to be heard, and he touched his head 
 significantly 
 
 " Millhouse, your suppers are too heavy. I would counsel 
 you against much meat at night. A single bit of that broiled 
 ham the slices thin is quite enough for any decent white man. 
 And in eating your hoe-cake, take my counsel to reject the soft 
 er parts ; confine yourself entirely to the crisp portions, the crust. 
 Besides, coffee is a wonderful stimulant of the brain. Don t go 
 over a pint hereafter at night ; and, perhaps, it will be well to 
 deny yourself the freedom of the Jamaica after a certain hour. 
 Say, a single glass after smoking your last pipe, and then to 
 sleep. Believe me, my good fellow, by observing these simple 
 forbearances, you will escape the visitation of the nightmare. 
 She has evidently given you a fearful hug last night." 
 
 " Twas the old skilly ton nigger, I tell you twas Sapphy, 
 your miss, and not any nightmar . Lord, cappin, ef you wouldn t 
 drive me stracted, don t you go on so. Warnt that old nigger 
 
322 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 litre, that nuss of yourn, as skinny as a dry peach-skin all 
 skin and hone warnt she setting thai* for a good hour, a-telling 
 us of her da ters in the swamp, and their children, and their hus 
 bands, and of the boy Jupe, that broke his neck a ter the coon, 
 and them two bow-legged gals, his sisters. Now, jest be sensi 
 ble, cappin, and tell all about it, as I seed and heard it my own 
 self." 
 
 " I can tell you nothing more, sergeant. You ve certainly had 
 a very lively dream last night, which I should greatly like to 
 see realized." 
 
 " A dream ! Lord ! Lord ! I shill go crazy and outright re- 
 stracted ! And you hadn t a nuss named Sapphy ?" 
 
 "Never!" 
 
 "Oh ! Lord, what shall I be thinking ! 
 
 " Don t cat so much at night again, sergeant." 
 
 " It kaint be a dream ! " 
 
 " Leave off the coffee in particular !" 
 
 " I swow ! it warnt no dream !" 
 
 " One drink only of Jamaica, after your last pipe." 
 
 " Ef twas a dream it was as much like the ral and living life 
 as I ever seed it." 
 
 " That s always the case with pleasant dreams, sergeant ; but 
 they always lead to disappointment. What a glorious crop you 
 could make if your dream of those eighteen negroes were true ?" 
 
 " Lord, yes ! and I had jest set, my heart on beating Fordham 
 out of sight. But ! stairs, cappin, it ought to be true and it 
 must be true." 
 
 Just then Tom was heard below, calling to Pomp. 
 
 " Thar s Tom ! He must ha seed her ef she was thar. I ll 
 ax him." 
 
 " Do so," says Porgy, " and satisfy yourself. It will do you 
 some good and make you less certain of your dreams hereafter." 
 
 Millhouse sallied out, and Porgy darting to the window, caught 
 the eye of Tom, ascending the stairs to the piazza, and motioned 
 with his hands to him. At that moment Millhouse from the hall 
 <tried out to him 
 
 " Look you, Tom, where s the old nigger-woman what slept 
 in your room last night ?" 
 
 Porgy shook his head negatively to the cook. Tom was quick 
 
THE SERGEANT IN A MAZE. 323 
 
 to conceive, and knew thoroughly the habits of the captain of 
 partisans, as a practical joker. He immediately conjectured what 
 was required of him, and his answer was as prompt as if dicta 
 ted by the very mother of the truth. 
 
 " Wha womans you talk bout, mass Millh us ? I aint see nary 
 old nor young woman pon dis place !" 
 
 " The h-11 you aint ! The Lord be mareiful to my poor 
 senses." 
 
 " Somet ing seem for trouble you, mass Millh us may be you 
 is berry much hungry for you hreakus." 
 
 "D n the breakfast ! Oh ! thar s Pomp ! I recken he must 
 ha seed the old woman." 
 
 Pomp was beginning to ascend the steps leading to the back 
 piazza, at the heaa of which Tom stood. Tom replied for Pomp, 
 in tones loud enough for the other f o hoar. 
 
 " Wha , Pomp ! How kin he see ole woman in my room, ef 
 me, Tom, no bin see em ? Heh ! Pomp? Speak, boy, you 
 no bin see no ole woman in de room whay we sleeps las night?" 
 
 Tom s tone, and the fierce scowl which he put on while speak 
 ing to the boy, effectually taught the latter what sort of answer 
 was required from him, and he responded without hesitation 
 
 " Nebber see ole woman in de room, uncle Tom." 
 
 " Da s wha I say, mass Millh us. You muss ha ? bin dream 
 bout dat old woman." 
 
 " Dream ! Lord ! Lord ! and here am I a loser of eighteen 
 niggers, fas rate fiel hands, and nobody seems to care about it. 
 Lord ha marcy upon you, cappin !" returning, as he spoke, to 
 Porgy s room " but you don t seem as ef you had any feeling 
 for your own losses. Now, I member ef twas a dream I had 
 of that skilly ton nigger wench, I thought it mighty strange you 
 show d so little consarn when I told you about putting the 
 eighteen niggers to work, and what they d hev to do. I thought 
 it mighty onnatural, of you last night ; but I feel its mighty on- 
 natural, now, as it looks to me this morning. Eighteen able 
 bodied niggers gone, as I may say, in the snapping of a finger. 
 I does feel so mean. Tom, old fellow, do let s have breakfus 
 mighty soon. We are gwine to see Mrs. Eb leigh to-day, and 
 must fix up for it. Lord ! Lord ! ef I could only ha told her 
 bout them eighteen niggers Dv.t of the swamp, add^d on to the 
 
324 WOODCRAF l. 
 
 poor seven we ve got now ! How could I ha dreamed a thing 
 so nateral, and seed the old woman so cl ar in the firelight, and 
 felt her a-hngging me, and a-kissing me, with her nose and chin 
 poking into my face all the time. Twarn t no dream, I swow, 
 cappin twarn t no dream. Twas too nateral for a dream ! I 
 kaint help but b lieve it all, try the best I kin !" 
 
 At that moinent, a strange voice was heard without. Millhouse 
 started and prick cl up his ears. In the next moment, Porgy saw 
 him dart forward, with a shriek of delight. The captain of 
 partisans looked out of the window upon the piazza, and there 
 the spectacle of the night was reversed. It was old Sappho, 
 who was, this time, nearly suffocated in the embrace of the ser 
 geant ! 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 
 iNEAR APPROACHES TO SANS-CULOTTISM. 
 
 " GOD bless you, my beautyful old nigger. I ll love you tell 
 my heart drops out of my body for this visit. You re jest as 
 beautiful now, to my eyes, as ef you d dropt out of heaven, and 
 brought all the bright stairs along with you. But, Lord, old wo 
 man, what a scare you ve given me. I thought you had ruined 
 me for ever. To lose eighteen niggers, without a minute s warn 
 ing, aint so easy to be stood, I tells you ; and I begun mightily 
 to feel as ef you had done me that same dissarvice ; made me a 
 rich man first, only to make me poorer than ga broth arterwards ! 
 Lord ! with what an etarnal honest face, the cappin kin lie ; and 
 lie so bodily; lying through the whole melon, and never chok 
 ing at the rine [rind]. But I forgive him ! The Lord be praised ! 
 old lady, I must give you another hug. I m so spontinaciously 
 happy." 
 
 " Tank e, maussa," answered old Sappho, quietly, and without 
 any struggling to extricate herself "but I tinks you wasn t so 
 glad to hug de ole woman las night !" 
 
 ".Thar you hev me, old lady. That was kaise I didn t know 
 you then. Member, you kim in like a sperrit, and you tuk me, 
 
NEAR APPROACHES TO SANS-CULOTTISM. 32f) 
 
 by snpprise a lectio. Twas onawares you tuk me. I warn! 
 scared, but I felt as ef I didn t know you, and to be sqnee/ed up 
 lovingly by a body one dont know, and pretty much in the dark 
 as we was, is mighty apt to make a pusson feel jubous and on 
 sartin what to say or do. But now that I knows you, and what 
 you come for, I m your well-wisher, and friend, and off cer, and 
 I takes you continentally, as I may say, into the ranks." 
 
 " Are you still dreaming, sergeant ?" cried Porgy, emerging 
 from his chamber, and coming out into the piazza. 
 
 " You re jest about the fattest sinner living, cappin, and can 
 jest now lie as easy as ef a conscience warn t no sort of trouble 
 to you at all. En, how did you put up that black faced satan, 
 Tom, there, and Pomp, to back your lying for you 1 Lord ! how 
 uaieral they did it. As sure as a gun you ll all go to the devil 
 together, and not one soul of you miss the road." 
 
 " When that time comes, sergeant, you will be fourjd leading 
 the forlorn hope ! Well, Sappho, my good old woman, you are 
 as sprightly as a girl of sixteen. You ve done more work than 
 all of us together. And these are my poor people. Charlotte, 
 and Betty, and Cinda, I remember ; and Ben " 
 
 "An Eli, maussa; you member Eli, enty?" 
 was the interruption of Betty s husband who now ascended 
 the steps, leading the way for the group, and grappled the captain 
 by the hand. His example was followed by all the rest ; and 
 numberless and sufficiently various were the exclamations of re 
 joicing on every hand. 
 
 " De Lord be praise, maussa, you come home at las !" " Tanks 
 be to de Fader !" " Oh ! I so happy, aunty !" and " Maumy, 
 maussa come ! Enty you glad ?" " Glad for cry, my chile." 
 
 But we need not multiply the phrases. The character of tht* 
 catalogue may be sufficiently conjectured from these samples 
 But he who knows what a Carolina plantation is one of the 
 old school one of an ancient settlement where father and 
 son, for successive generations, have grown up, indissolubly - 
 mingled with the proprietor and his children for a hundred years, 
 may follow out the progress, and repaint the picture for himself. 
 Porgy had few words, but his sympathies were more clearly ex 
 pressed, to the eyes of all the slaves, than if he had spoken them 
 in the best chosen language. As the several groups passed up 
 
326 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 the steps, and gave way for eacli other, the men with their wives 
 and their children, the calculating sergeant could not contain his 
 joy. Now he strode up and down the piazza, counting with the 
 fingers of his solitary hand. Anon, he paused to take with an 
 ^affectionate grasp, some one girl or boy by the shoulder, according 
 as the development showed a desirable strength. 
 
 " Eighteen, by the powers, and every one of them a fuss rate 
 for the field. Dream, indeed ! Did I dream ! Lord, how some 
 people will lie. Cappin, I ll never forgive you that trick. I 
 b lieve its made some of my hairs turn gray." 
 
 Porgy, meanwhile, gave the negroes a brief talk. He should 
 soon visit the city and find them in clothes and blankets, hats 
 and shoes. In truth, these were all greatly needed. Nothing 
 but the abundant stores of lightwood, which the country afforded, 
 could possibly have kept the poor wretches from freezing, even 
 in a Carolina winter. Affectionately welcomed, and assured of 
 proper provisions, they were all dismissed to the basement rooms 
 for the present, except old Sappho, for whom the captain was 
 resolved to provide elsewhere. 
 
 "And now," said he, "here is Pomp signalling us for break 
 fast. I trust, Millhouse, that your dreams have not spoiled your 
 tppetite." 
 
 " No thanks to you, that it liaint. Ef the dream hadn t ha 
 come true, I d ha hardly eaten to-day.* But ef I don t eat now, 
 it s only bekaise I m still busy a-dreaming. 
 
 Breakfast was soon despatched, when Sappho was called in 
 to take her portion from the table. This duty over, another of 
 much more embarrassing character was to be attended to the 
 examination of the several wardrobes of our partisans, in order 
 to a proper exhibition at the dinner party of the widow Eveleigh. 
 
 The entire stock of clothing possessed by Captain Porgy 
 (that portion excepted which he wore in common) was carried 
 in a rude deerskin portmanteau or valise, of camp manufacture, 
 the workmanship of a common soldier. Beyond a single dress- 
 suit, that is for dress parade, our partisan had but very little t 
 boast, There may have been a change of small-clothes, two 
 pair, in brief, one of buff and one of blue, that which he wore 
 belonging to neither color. It might have been blue once, 
 possible gray, but time, and sun, and rain, and wind, and frequent 
 
NEAR APPROACHES TO SAXS-CULOTTISM. 327 
 
 intercourse with the soil, had lei L the original ground-woik very 
 questionable, and, to be safe, we will call it neutral. When the 
 portmanteau, which had never known the safe virtues of a lock, 
 was unstrapped, and the contents displayed, uppermost appeared 
 the two articles already mentioned. The blue small clothes 
 were first examined. As at first opened, they suggested the 
 idea of an enormous sack, such as might now serve to take in a 
 bale of long cottons. Capacious as they seemed, however, the 
 experience of the captain had determined that they were by no 
 means sufficiently ample to afford him the degree of freedom 
 which he required when dining out. To the eye, the blues were 
 the least questionable of his small-clothes, in consequence of the 
 fact that they had been, on several occasions, as they seemed 
 to need it rcdipped in a decoction of the native indigo. But 
 even these wore a suspicious whiteness in certain spots, which, 
 unless he wore his hunting frock, by which they were covered, 
 were apt to obtrude themselves rather boldly upon the sight of 
 the spectators. Though faded, here and there, however, the 
 blues were intact there were no awkward rents or patches; 
 and no places so much worn as to keep the wearer in constant 
 apprehension of an explosion. Porgy, with the help of Tom 
 and Pomp, subjected them to a severe scrutiny, and they were 
 then laid aside for a moment. 
 
 " They re the best," quoth Porgy, musingly, "if they were not 
 so atrociously contracted about the hips and waist. I m always 
 in dread lest I should burst them." 
 
 "Day strong, rnaussa." 
 
 " Yes, Tom ! But not strong enough for everything, and the 
 widow will, no doubt, give us a first-rate dinner, and I am in 
 honor bound to do justice to it. There will be wines, too, and 
 I must drink, I will drink, and try every variety that s offered. 
 By Bacchus! the very idea of wine inspires me. It s long sinco 
 I ve smacked my lips upon the tears of the vineyard. Lift up 
 the buffs, Pomp." 
 
 The garment thus described dangled in the air from the ex 
 tending finger of Pompey. 
 
 "They would do well, in respect to size ; but these d d patch- 
 es, Tom." 
 
 "Day mighty broad in de face, maussa." 
 
328 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 "As the full moon, Tom, though less bright of complexion. 
 
 "Ef you puts on dese, maussa, you hal) for wear de shirt 
 [hunting]. De pigeon-tail neither guine to cuhher [cover] em." 
 
 The hurts of the garment were chiefly in the rear Porgy 
 iUvnys seated himself with emphasis. Sometimes, indeed, he 
 -nne to the ground, though letting himself down never so easily, 
 ivith something of a shock. The results always told fearfully 
 :>n his small-clothes. The buffs had particularly suffered, and 
 in this special region. The consequence was that it had become 
 necessary, on more than one occasion, to "put a plaister on 
 them," using Millhouse s descriptive phraseology. Now, this 
 plaister or patch, or pair of patches for Porgy wore his clothes 
 with some uniformity at least in wearing them out, were, 
 for two sufficient reasons, supplied with buckskin, dressed in 
 camp, and with sufficient rudeness. Nothing but buckskin, it 
 was thought, could possibly endure the constant strain and 
 pressure in the ailing region. But, besides this, the buff was not 
 to be found in camp. The art which was available in that re 
 gion, was not of a sort to make the boundary line of patch as 
 similate naturally with the original continent of cloth ; and 
 though, from use, the buff and buckskin had gradually grown to 
 look alike, as loving wife and husband are said to do after certain 
 seasons, yet it needed no critical eye to discover that there 
 were ridges, rising almost into promontories, by which the lines 
 of union, or demarcation, were at once distinguished. A frequent 
 renewal of the stitch had increased the deformity, and upon 
 present inspection it was found that the craft of the tailor was 
 even now necessary to reunite the parts, and renew the integrity 
 of the bonds that held them together. 
 
 "He tear out yer, maussa." 
 
 "Torn!" with some horror. 
 
 " Yes, he breck out, and der s leetle hole working yer, in de 
 middle ob the ledder [leather]. Lor, a mighty, massa, you s 
 too hard pon you breeches! Taint decent and like gemple- 
 mans, de way you wear you clo es." 
 
 "Get out, you rascal, and get ready to sew them up at once. 
 Gret your needle and thread ; or see Sappho, and see if some of 
 these young grand-daughters of hers can t, do the work less clum 
 sily. 1 reckon she s taught some of them to sew 
 
NEAR APPROACHES TO SANS-CTI.OTTISM. 829 
 
 The girl was found, and squat upon tlie floor, provided with 
 all Tom s stock in trade as a tailor, she was soon busy with the 
 garihefct. 
 
 "Ef you wears the buffs, rnaussa, you hab for wear de shirt." 
 
 "Yes! yet the dress coat is more in style," said Porgy, with 
 
 inething of a sigh, lifting both coats up at the same moment, 
 
 nd holding them apart for survey, in separate hands. The 
 
 hunting-shirt was a blue homespun; the dress-coat was a faint 
 
 approach to the proper army-uniform of a captain in those days. 
 
 It was of broadcloth, originally red, but thrice dyed in blue. The 
 
 latter color, however, had somewhat faded, and the red, or a 
 
 most unnatural phase of it, was about to reappear through the 
 
 subsequent dye. 
 
 "Ef we had some indigo to gee dat coat a dip now," quoth 
 Tom, himself rather preferring the garment on account of its tex 
 ture and brighter buttons. 
 
 " Still I couldn t wear it with the buffs. No ! no ! I must wear 
 the shirt. It helps to cover the territory requiring to be con 
 cealed, and to hide these wornout acres." 
 
 " He s acre for true," growled Tom, looking at the patches 
 which the negro girl was repairing. " He big like de skairt ob 
 saddle." 
 
 " They must do*, nevertheless," muttered Porgy, with a dole 
 ful visage. " Examine the coat, Tom, the hunting shirt, and 
 see if it s sound." 
 
 " Hab breck under the arm, maussa." 
 
 "Throw it to Pussy, and let her sew it up. Now, Pomp, un 
 roll me that homespun bundle. We must see for shirts and 
 stockings." 
 
 " Ha ! Shirt and stockin . I speek clem guine gee you trouble 
 miff for fin ." 
 
 Pomp unrolled the bundle. The stockings appeared well 
 saved the dress pair, used by the captain only on state occa 
 sions of thick white cotton. They had been a present from 
 the widow Griffin. 
 
 " He all gone at de heel and toes, maussa." 
 
 " Fortunately those : purts are buried in the shoes. What of 
 the shirt, Pomp?" . 
 
 Pomp proceeded to unfold it. There was but one. 
 
330 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 "Tenderly, you rascal; do you think you re handling a side 
 of leather. Are your hands clean, you monkey. Look at the 
 fellow, Tom j take it from him. He will have it in rags without 
 a warning." 
 
 "Ha! maussa, only le um lone, he tumble into rags hese f." 
 
 " But we musn t let it alone, you rascal, and we must be care 
 ful that it does not tumble into rags until this day s business is 
 ovc v . It was once the best of Irish linen. It is the last of six 
 dozen. Six dozen! Heavens! was I indeed the owner of six 
 dozen shirts at one time!" 
 
 "Ha! ef that was the only stravagance and foolishness, 
 maussa. You le de sergeant know you bin once Lab six dozen 
 shu t, all tie same time, Le gee you h-11 ob a sarmon bout you 
 stravagance ! But, de Lord sabe us, maussa, de shu t aint all 
 yer [here] ! All de skairt ob de back is gone." And Tom dis 
 played the ill-conditioned garment outright. 
 
 " The skirt gone ! How! Where? True, by Jupiter. That 
 infernal savage. It was Indian Bet that washed it last. The 
 catamount. She has torn it out and carried off the fragment 
 Look in the portmanteau for the piece!" 
 
 "Ingin Bet nebber bin carried em off in dis worP. Wha, he 
 carry em for? He too rotten. Ingin Bet good Land for tier, 
 but Le nebber guine tief rotten sLu t. Look, Pomp, I speck lie 
 must be in de bottom day [tliere] !" 
 
 TLe search was vain. And Porgy stood aghast at tlie spectacle. 
 
 "What s to be done, Tom!" 
 
 "Is de buzzum good in de front?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Well! easy miff. De coat cubber de back, you know. See 
 yer ! yer s de hole for put you head t rough. When you guine 
 dress, I tan behin you and slip de shu t ober, and when you 
 hab em on, I get t read [thread] and make Pussy titch [stitch] 
 two free, sebben, five titch cross de back for hold de two side 
 togodder. Da s de way for do em; I see. I guine fix em." 
 
 A white vest was found in the valise ; a leather stock, a pair 
 of yellow buckskin gloves; and, after a fashion, Porgy succeeded 
 in displaying, ready for use, the entire habit which he was to 
 wear that day. This done, he proceeded, with the help of Tom 
 and Pomp, to put himself in harness. 
 
NEAR APPROACHES TO SANS-CULOTTISAI. ool 
 
 Talk of the iron garments of ancient chivalry ! Never <li<\ 
 tl_e closing of rivets on the part of the knights of the English 
 Harrys and Edwards, on the eve of battle, requhe more time 
 and painstaking, or cause more anxiety to pages and squires, 
 and armor-hearers and armorers, then did the costuming of 
 their master, that day, occasion to his two sable attendants. 
 Such gingerly handling of coat, and vest, and shirt, and small 
 clothes, was, perhaps, scarcely ever beheld before v The adjust- 
 merit of the captain s linen, was especially a subject of some 
 solicitude. While he sat upon a keg, Tom, standing on one 
 side, arid Pomp on the other, the former quietly dropped the 
 garment, shorn of its fair proportions, over his neck. 
 
 While Porgy buttoned it at the throat, and slipped his arms into 
 the sleeves, the two attendants seized the skirts at a signal, and 
 drawing the sundered sides as nearly together as they dared, 
 Pussy, the girl, with a dozen successive stitches, united the re 
 luctant skirts, but not so as to cover a large waste of territory 
 between, which, until Porgy could get his vest and coat on, re 
 mained as bare in back as a Pict in full armor. Porgy sat erect 
 during the operation, never daring even to move, until Tom gave 
 him permission by telling him 
 
 "You kin feel yourse f a leetle now,maussa; but tek kear how 
 you ben you back, and tretch out you arm, tell you git on you 
 coat and weckset. Dis here shu t nebber guine tan pull and 
 jerk, mek em easy as you kin." 
 
 " Fed myself a little, indeed ! I certainly should like to feel 
 myself less? Hand me those shoes, Pomp!" 
 
 "Ha! Hello! Boy! Wha dis? You never bin brush you 
 maussa shoes ebber sencc he bin trabble in all dat mud wid em ?" 
 
 "I no see any brush, uncle Tom!" 
 
 "Ha! you no see any brush, you bull eye nigger! I tek 
 hole ob you, I show y6u brush on de back wid sights ob hick ry. 
 Git out, and fin piece ob clot , and see you rub off de mud from 
 dem boot fore I kin crook my elbow. Clot is brush, you Avar- 
 mint, ef you use em so." 
 
 Pomp was off, and Porgy resigned himself patiently on the keg, 
 which sufficed him for a chair, until his inexperienced " valley de 
 sham" could re-appear Meanwhile, Tom handed him his hunt 
 ing-shirt. 
 
832 
 
 " Look you, maussa," said the cook, as he helped his mastei 
 on with the coat "You hab for walk traight in dis coat. He 
 aint so trong arter all. You mus tek care and no t rowyouse f 
 bout when you at Miss Ebleigh s. Ef you forgit, sometime, and 
 t row out you arm too wide, you ll breck somewhere, I know ; in 
 de sleeb, or under de arm, or mout be in de back ; an ef once 
 he begin for go, dere s no stopping em. You ll breck all side, 
 I tell you, and de breeches will be for busting out too ; and dat 
 won t do no how, when you da stan [stand] fore de ladies. 
 Min wlia I tell you, maussa, and walk traight track. Be berry 
 preticklar, jis when you s gitting off de boss; and when you s 
 a-walking up de steps, don t you tretch out for hoi de ban 
 nister ; and when you s a-talking big wid de lady, you mustn t 
 tink for raise up you arm to de heabens, as ef you was a-cailing 
 <!e sun, and de moon to be witness for wha you say. Twon t do : 
 you ll be breck out ebbry side ef you guiiie try for do all dem 
 mighty t ings. Set down easy in de chair, and don t you go for 
 trad die you legs too wide. I no pen [depend] pon dese 
 breeches t all." 
 
 "It s come to a pretty pass, indeed, when such a sooty scamp 
 as you are, Tom, undertakes to teach me how to carry myself in 
 a lady s presence." 
 
 "Enty I know?" 
 
 " So, you think I had better not lift my leg unadvisedly so " 
 
 "Top, maussa; you sure for bu st dem breeches." 
 
 "Or throw out my arms, right or left, so!" 
 
 " Lawd ! maussa, don t you now ! De coat is ready for pop 
 ebbry way." 
 
 " I feel it, Tom ! I shall be cautious fbr my own sake, not less 
 than for decency s. But, be off; send Pomp to me with the shoes, 
 old fellow, and see what you can do toward fixing up the lieu 
 tenant and the sergeant. They ll need quite as much help as 
 myself, I fancy, in preparing themselves for this visit." 
 
 Tom disappeared. The shoes were soon brought by Pomp 
 and drawn on with a degree of care and deliberation which show 
 ed that our captain of partisans was as duly sensible as Tom of 
 the danger which might follow any extraordinary efforts of 
 muscle on his part. He felt himself, at length, completed for his 
 visit, all but cap and swo : r l The sword, however absurd it might 
 
NEAR APPIiU ACHES TO SANS-CULOTTISM. 
 
 seem, was still an essential in bis present habit, which was wholly 
 military. It was still justified, in use, by the unsettled condition 
 of the country, and we must not be surprised to sec him, on his 
 departure for the city, not only wearing his sabre, but carrying 
 ins holsters and pistols ; and this, chiefly, with due regard to 
 propriety of costume. But we must not anticipate. To buckle 
 on his sabre, and don his well-worn coonskin cap, was the work 
 of a moment. The horses had been already saddled, and were 
 in waiting in the court below. The voice of Millhouse was heard 
 calling, and the heavy tread of himself and If rampton were echo 
 ing loudly in the hall. They were evidently ready, and Porgy 
 joined them. 
 
 " Let s look at you, cappin," quoth Millhouse, " and see how 
 you re a-iooking." And he walked round his superior, scrutinizing 
 him at every point. 
 
 " Your sktfirt s /-ether short," quoth he. 
 
 "Do you see the blisters the leather patches sergeant?" 
 demanded Porgy, quickly. 
 
 " N o !" answered the sergeant slowly, peering about curious 
 ly the while; "but as you love your life, cappin, you mustn t 
 bend for ad the leetlest, for you aint got any skairts to spare. 
 Your gairth is so mighty big that it draws up the gairments 
 monstrous high." 
 
 " To horse !" cried Porgy, with something very emphatic in 
 his tones, leading the way. 
 
 " Stop a bit !" said the sergeant, " while I take in another hole 
 m your belt. It ll better your figger a leetle ; though taint easy 
 to help it much." 
 
 " D n the figure !" exclaimed the indignant captain, breaking 
 away, without suffering the intended service. 
 
 " Look you, cappin, ef you splurges about in that sort of style 
 you ll rt sk mightily the security of all your fixins." 
 
 We shall say nothing about the costume of the captain s sub 
 ordinates. Enough that they partook of the deficiencies, and 
 provoked the same sort of embarrassments, which we have seen 
 troubling their superior. They had done their best to prepare 
 for the eyes of the lady, and they, at least, had no misgivings 
 as troubled with no expectations. A word to Tom, and another 
 word to old Sappho, who could not sufficiently admire the wonder- 
 
334 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 ful dimensions, the great sword, and the fearful looking pistols 
 of her child, and the three cantered off at a free pace, in the 
 direction of the widow Eveleigh s. When approaching the 
 avenue, the sergeant suddenly drew up, and entreated the atten 
 tion of the captain for a moment. 
 
 " Cappin," says he, "now s the time. Head s up ! Off cers to 
 the front. Oappin ! It all spends upon you now ! One thing 
 I ve got to say : a widow aint like a young gal. She s got L\- 
 pcrcnce. Taint any needcessity, when you tacks a widow, to 
 be guine all about it, and about it. They don t aix that of you.. 
 They onderstands. Taint any use to ride round to the gate ; 
 jest pull down the fence and ride in. What did I say to you 
 afore ? A widow s jest like a fort that s used to surrenderm . 
 It s only to summon it and say here we are to make a breach, or 
 run over the walls. Jest show yourself ready to scale and storm, 
 and what does the commander of the garrison say ? Why, says 
 he let s make good tamns and that s all we re axing and 
 that s what the widow ll say ; but I wouldn t make the trt/rms 
 too easy, cappin. You re needing a mighty deal of assistance. 
 Hold her to it. Give her no chaince, and when she finds you 
 ready to seize, she ll give in. She kain t help herself. Only, 
 don t you be mealy-mouthed, cappin ! Go it, like a charge !" 
 
 Porgy surveyed the speaker for a moment in the most perfect 
 silence. Then quietly, with a smile, lie said, clapping spurs to 
 his horse 
 
 " Millhouse, you were surely born to be a general i" 
 
 In another moment the party was pacing up the noble avenue 
 of ancient oaks conducting to the mansion of the wealthy widow. 
 
THE SERGEANT PUTS THE CAPTAIN FORWARD. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVII. 
 
 THE SERGEANT PUTS THE CAPTAIN FAVORABLY FORWARD. 
 
 THE plantation of Mrs. Eveleigh was one of the finest and 
 best kept along the Ashepoo. The widow had been fortunate in 
 the circumstances which secured her equally against the hostility 
 of both parties during the late war. She had friends at court, 
 no matter who was sovereign for the season. Her husband had 
 been a popular officer in his British majesty s army, and, when 
 not on service, had been a favorite among his neighbors. The 
 widow shared his popularity, possessing, in eminent degree, those 
 qualities of character by which he had secured it. Her estate, 
 accordingly, had escaped that harrying process, by which so 
 many of those around her had been devastated ; and the ex 
 cellence of the land, the skill, sobriety and integrity of her over 
 seer ; good seasons, profitable staple (rice) and her o\vu judicious 
 economy, had resulted in a constant increase, by which she had 
 become one of the wealthiest persons of this region of country. 
 She lived, during the greater portion of the year, upon her estate, 
 and this had been an additional secret of her prosperity. Her 
 presence had served, not only to promote the success but the, 
 charm and beauty of her plantation. Her fields were well dis 
 tributed, always kept clean and under good fences ; the grounds 
 were well laid out ; the undergrowth kept down ; the woods 
 trimmed up; the groves, whether of oak or other forest-tree?, 
 such as wooed the wandering footstep, and appealed sweetly to 
 the musing fancies. Long shadowy avenues, on three sides, con 
 ducted to her dwelling which stood among sheltering clumps of a 
 growth extending far beyond all human memory ; while the house 
 itself, of ample dimensions, and built in a style at once tasteful 
 and simple, was furnished with all the attractions which, in that 
 day, distinguished the mansions of American refinement. 
 
 The morning was a mild and bright one. As Captain Porgy 
 and his two companions cantered up the avenue, Mrs. Eveleigh 
 might be seen, with her son, sitting in the open piazza 
 
336 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 "They re on the look out for us, cappin," said the sergeant, 
 with an air of triumph. " She s mighty airnest to see you, I tell 
 you. Now, cappin, member what I ve said. Now s the time. 
 All the signs is favorable. Don t you let the chaince slip through 
 your fingers. No man gits a. widow by being bashful about it. 
 It s the bold heart, a ter all, that gits the good things of this life. 
 When the fruit s ripe it s only to. shake the tree. You needn t 
 climb, but jest take hold, like a man, with a determination like, 
 never to let go, till your eend s answered. That s all. Now go 
 ahead." 
 
 With the air of a man who has given the last words of counsel 
 to a young beginner, when sending him forward to the fight, our 
 sergeant waved his one hand, and sulTered his superior to ride 
 ahead. Porgy answered only with a faint smile. lie seemed un- 
 easy, if not chafed at the pertinacious conceit of his follower; 
 while Lance Frampton, when ]\Iillhouse had fallen back and joined 
 him, took occasion to school the veteran in unexpected style, and 
 with some warmth. 
 
 Look you, sergeant, twont do for you to be talking to the 
 captain as if he was a boy, and you was his teacher. You d bet 
 ter be quiet now before you make him angry. He knows you re his 
 friend, and that makes him stand a good deal from you; but what 
 can you teach him about fine people, and high life, and the sort of 
 behavior he s to behave when he s in company with rich ladies in 
 their own houses. He knows more of such people than you and I 
 ever saw, and don t want any education how to do when he gets 
 among em. You d better shut up now in all these matters. I sec 
 he don t like it, and you ll some day go one step too far, and 
 you ll rouse him." 
 
 JMillhouse glared upon the lieutenant with mixed looks of sur 
 prise and indignation. When he recovered himself, he said: 
 
 "And don t I know what s good for him, and don t I see what s 
 needful to save him from the cussed sheriff. lie must marry this 
 rich widow, I tell you; that s his only chaince." 
 
 "Well, he won t, I m thinking." 
 
 "Why won t he! She s eager enough, I see, to ax him her 
 self." 
 
 "I don t believe a word of it; I don t believe she ll have him, 
 
THE SERGEANT PUTS Till-; CAI TAIN HHtWAllD. T 
 
 and you re just doing wrong now, to put such ideas into his 
 head." 
 
 "She won t! Lord, Lance ? as ef you had any ixperouro 1<> 
 know. Why, look what she s done for him a ready ; and look 
 at her axing you and me to come and spend the day and take 
 dinner. Don t you know, as well as me, that these people never 
 yet axed people of our sort into their houses, or let em set at 
 their table. It s only bekaise we re friends of the cappin that 
 she axes us." 
 
 " It s because we helped to save her son s life and her own. 
 It s because she s grateful ; and if you re right-minded, you ll 
 just be qui (i t all to-day while in her house, and be respectful, 
 and listen only, and answer when you re spoken to, and just say 
 as little as you can in civility ; for we ain t asked to be heard ; 
 it s only because she wants to be grateful. Now, 1 must say, 
 sergeant, you ve too great an ambition to be a-talking. The less 
 you talk, the better ; for though you re a sensible man enough, 
 in actual service, yet you re not the person to speak the scrt of 
 things that the great people likes to hear." 
 
 " Well, I must say, there s no mid to the conceitedness of 
 young people. Here, Lance, you, only a brat of a boy as I 
 may say though a very good one you re a-teaching me and 
 me old enough to be your gran fayther. I wonder ef you \\:>n t, 
 some day, show me how to work my way into my egg, by tell 
 ing me to crack it at the butt, and on the eend of the table. 
 Jest you don t consarn yourself, my boy, in this business of the 
 cappin, and ef I don t help him to git this rich widow, then poke 
 your finger at my eyes whenever I goes to talk." 
 
 " Take care ! That s all, sergeant. You ll be burning your 
 fingers, some day, by a fire that you won t see till you re in it 
 and can t back out." 
 
 The warning was in low tones. The party was quite loo 
 nigh the house to admit of more. Captain Porgy was already 
 lismounting a performance executed with less deliberation than 
 tsual, yet more effort. Let us add that it was successful ; what 
 ever the peril to his garments, they survived it ; and he proceed 
 ed tr ascend the steps of the dwelling, conducting to the pinzza 
 Youn<* Arthur Eveleigh descended to meet him, catching hia 
 hand and welcoming him with a warm and hearty grasp, 
 
 16 
 
888 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 declared the impulsive and generous nature of the boy. Mrs 
 Eveleigh stood at the head of the steps with her hand extended 
 in \velcome also. Her manner, simple and unaffected, genial 
 and friendly, was that of the accomplished lady, well versed in 
 the proper graces of society. Arthur Eveleigh remained on the 
 i to receive the followers of the partisan. These were wel 
 comed up also ; and a gracious bow was accorded them by the 
 widow, when they reached the piazza. Here, they all seated 
 themselves, following the example of the lady and the captain. 
 
 " The day is so mild and genial," said the widow, " that we 
 have suffered the fire to go out. But you soldiers scarcely need 
 a fire ; and Arthur and myself, since breakfast, have not felt the 
 want of one. We have been talking of you and your brave fol 
 lowers, captain, all the morning ; going, for the twentieth time, 
 over all the details of that fearful day, from the perils of which 
 you rescued us." 
 
 " Too happy you will believe, my dear Mrs. Eveleigh, in being 
 of the slightest service to you," was the gallant answer of the 
 captain. 
 
 " That was a most bloody leetle skirmage," put in the ser- 
 gCii.it. " Them rascals gin you a most awful hitch, ma am ; and 
 tf Uvarnt for the cappin thar, there s no telling what might have 
 happen d in the long run. It s the cappin, ma am, that s about 
 ti.e best man, I ever seed, to fight for the women folk. He was 
 born, I may say, to be their sav or and purtector!" 
 
 Porgy glared sternly at the speaker, who, fancying he had 
 ,. ven making a highly profitable, yet delicate suggestion, leered 
 > fst at the widow, then at the captain while he spoke, with the 
 manner of one who seems to say, " I have set the ball in motion 
 see that it don t come to the ground between you." 
 
 Mrs. Eveleigh answered the sergeant with a kind manner, 
 *ying 
 
 We owe him a great deal, certainly, sir, but we owe equally 
 our gratitude to yourself and your young companion. My son, 
 I am sure, will always regard you both as his friends, and if I 
 do not adequately acknowledge your help, it is only because all 
 language must fail to do so. I feel that, but for your arrival 
 ami timely And judicious succor, my son and all of us would have 
 Leon murdered." 
 
THE SERGEANT PUTS THE CAPTAIN FORW/.^U. C8* 
 
 That you would, ma am ! Them villains wam t a Lit too 
 good to sculp you in the bargain; but they ve got their sass and 
 dressing, and some on em will never trouble the high roads of 
 this airth agin. For them that got off, it s jest enough to know 
 that the cappin s in these quarters, and they ll be mighty cu rous 
 how they keeps out of them. I don t think they ll be the pus- 
 sons to break into any henroosts in this part of the country Ef 
 there was any man in this world born to be the natcral protectoi 
 of a plantation, it s the cappin thar." 
 
 Porgy twitched uneasily in his chair, while the sergeant pro 
 ceeded 
 
 " Lawd, ma am, to think that a pusson that can cut his way 
 through an inimy s bloody bagnets, a whole rigiment, should be 
 so tender at the same time, and sich a purtector of poor, trem 
 bling, dangerous wimmin ! To think how a pusson that shouts 
 so furious when he s at a charge how soft he kin make his 
 voice when it s to a woman he s got to speak ! It s a-most won 
 derful, and not to be calkilated, the difference twixt the same 
 man, when he s at them different dealings !" 
 
 Porgy could stand it no longer. He broke out 
 
 " Why, Millhouse, Mrs. Eveleigh will suppose that I have 
 employed you especially as my trumpeter, and not as my over 
 seer. Shut up ! my good fellow, or speak of your own valor and 
 your own tenderness, if you please. As I have no apprehensions 
 that I shall be suspected of any deficiency when either is needed 
 it is no policy to insist upon them now, lest both of them becomes 
 suspected." 
 
 The widow saw the captain s uneasiness and smiled pleasantly, 
 as she said 
 
 " The problem seems to puzzle Sergeant Miller " 
 
 " "Millhoitse, ma am, ef you please." 
 
 " Millhouse Sergeant Millhouse " 
 
 " There was a Sergeant "Miller, ma am, that b longed to the 
 Ponnsylvany rigiment, and he went over to the innimy on that 
 bloody affair when they wanted to sell Gineral Greene you 
 remember, I reckon; that time when the gineral sent off full 
 speed to call the old fox, and we poor malitia men to keep his 
 oontinentallers in order." 
 
 * T remember, sergeant. I am glad you corrected my error 
 
340 W OOBi ;;AFT. 
 
 Lt must be an unpleasant tiling to he confounded, even by mis 
 take, with a traitor." 
 
 " That s it, ma am ; you re sensible on the subject." 
 
 " Was there ever such a bullheaded monster !" quoth Porgy 
 sol to i-occ. "You were remarking, Mrs. Eveleigh " 
 
 " Upon the problem that seemed to puzzle Sergeant Mill- 
 house," emphasizing the last syllable duly. " Yet, it seems to 
 have been proverbial that, the most brave-hearted are also the 
 most tender-hearted, always, captain.*! 
 
 " The effect has commonly i-hown itself in the number of warp 
 which have been occasioned by the sex, Mrs. Eveleigh. it is 
 proverbial, also, that, when all other arguments fail to inspire 
 the man with the proper courage, you have only to goad him in 
 the presence of the lady whom he most admires." 
 
 " Ef anything will make him fight, ma am, that will," put in 
 the sergeant. " It s jest what you sees daily with these common 
 dunghill fowls. They hain t got much heart for fighting at any 
 time, yet, jest let the hen be nigh, when one s a-coming ; and the 
 other, though he run before, will dash up, and Lord, how lie will 
 make the feathers fly ! It s natnr ! and it shows the valley of 
 the women in keeping up a good breed of sodgers in a country. 
 And I do say that the women folks had as much to do in making 
 our people fight the innimy as anything beside, and all besides. 
 I member well, when I went out with Gineral Middleton agin 
 the Cherokees. Well, you know thar was Grant, with his Brit 
 ish rig lars, along with us ; and no great shakes they was, I tell 
 you, in an Ingin skrimmage. Well, it used to make my very 
 blood bile in my body, to see how them red coats made free with 
 our young women at the farmhouses. Why, rna am, they made 
 no more ado of chucking the gals under the chin, and smacking 
 at their lips, jest wherever they found em, than I would at kiss 
 ing my own wife ef taint ondecent for me to speak of my wife 
 when I ain t got one, and never ixpect to have. But that ain t 
 to pervent other people, what s more personable and better off, 
 from getting a wife, I m thinking." 
 
 And here the sergeant looked, with a leer the most significant 
 and complacent, to the captain of partisans, whose disquiet was 
 duly increasing. Mrs Eveleigh, too, began to comprehend that 
 there was something latent in the sergeant s speeches ; but she 
 
THE SERGEANT PUTS THE CAPTAIN FOKVVAKL). 041 
 
 had no notion of his real purpose, and ascribed whatever was 
 queer in his manner and words, to some eccentricity of character. 
 Meanwhile, Arthur Eveleigh had attached himself to Lance 
 Frampton, and the two young men had gone out to the stables. v 
 The widoAv felt the cal. to be elsewhere, but could not leave the 
 parties at the moment; and the conversation proceeded,, the 
 lady opening upon another topic which was necessarily addressed 
 wholly to the captain. 
 
 " You find everything in disorder, Captain Porgy. You have 
 lieon a special sufferer, I know. You are probably not aware 
 that I am in possession of some of your property." 
 
 " Indeed !" 
 
 " Yes. As an old friend of your family and self, Avhen I heard 
 of certain bands of loyalists about, knowing the practices ot 
 which they were guilty, I sent over several of my hands, and, 
 with the aid of your servants, brought over to my house such of 
 your furniture as had been left after their first foray. One 
 Grainger had been before me, and had destroyed the family pic 
 tures, and made a fire, I was told, of certain pieces of furniture. 
 As soon as he disappeared with his band, I secured your side 
 board, a couple of chests of drawers, a few chairs and tables, a 
 pair of fine old steel mirrors, and a variety of other articles, in 
 cluding knife-case, with knives and forks, decanters, glasses, and 
 sundry small things, such as you will find useful. There was 
 no plate that we could find " 
 
 " It was all melted down in camp, Mrs. Eveleigh. We have 
 been living on it in part " 
 
 " Ah ! I conjectured that ; though, by the way, the report is 
 that your own overseer, Halford, helped to spoil you, and would 
 have effectually done so, but that he was accidentally killed at 
 a great muster of the loyalists, near Coosawhatchie." 
 
 " He turned out to be a great scoundrel ; went over to the 
 British after serving a campaign with us. I suspected him be 
 fore that event, and my discoveries probably led to his treachery. 
 But I had not supposed that anything had been saved from the 
 wreck of my furniture. My debt to you increases every hour, 
 Mrs. Eveleigh." 
 
 " By no means, captain. I shall owe you a debt which my 
 whole life could not repay." 
 
342 WOODCRAFT 
 
 " That s it !" cried Mill house, slapping his thigh with his one 
 hand. " That s it ! I know d it." 
 
 Porgy gave him a single stern look then turning to the 
 widow, said 
 
 " Do not talk of any debt to me, my dear Mrs. Eveleigh ; you 
 owe^me none. What was done for your rescue, by myself and 
 my companions, would have been done in behalf of the poorest 
 creature of the country r " 
 
 " Let me interrupt you, captain, by saying that, in like man 
 ner, what I have done for the saving of your chattels, in your 
 absence, would have been done for any other neighbor. But, 
 the better course would be to say nothing of these mutual ser 
 vices, however much we feel them." 
 
 "Edzactly but the feeling! " and the sergeant closed. 
 The widow proceeded 
 
 " I am rejoiced that I shall have you again for a neighbor !" 
 
 " And nara [never a] better jpwtector of wimmen could be 
 found !" quoth the sergeant, with an emphatic slap of his one 
 hand upon his thigh. The lady did not seem to observe him, 
 but proceeded. 
 
 " And if in any respects I can be of service to you, particu 
 larly at the present moment, you have only to let me know, 
 and" 
 
 " There s a want of everything, I may say, ma am, from plough 
 to shovel. You see, ma am, I m to manage for the cappin, who s 
 got some of the finest rice lands on this river." 
 
 " He has, indeed. I know them," said the widow. 
 
 " That s it, ma am ! You re right ! It s so ! I seed em ; and 
 they ve had a long rest. They ll bring //fired fine crops ; and 
 I ll make em do it. Ef we had your force on them lands, now, 
 Madam Eb leigh, there s no telling what I could do ! No, ma am ! 
 There s no telling, twould be so magnisifent ! But we ve got 
 only a mighty small force of twenty-five niggers ! " 
 
 This was said with a wave of the one hand and a twitching 
 of the mouth, and a turning up of the nose, as if nothing could 
 be more contemptible in the sight of the speaker. The air was 
 that of one, who, born to command armies, was reduced to the 
 necessity of expending his genius upon a corporal s guard. But 
 the widow s surprise vras at the number, not at their insignificance 
 
THE SERGEANT PUTS THE CAPTAIN FORWARD. 313 
 
 "Twenty -five!" 
 
 " A second instance of good fortune, my dear Mrs. Evel",igh. 
 When I encountered you, I knew not that I had a negro in the 
 world, besides Tom. You restored me seven ; last night, my 
 fid nurse, Sappho, who has survived the wars and starvation for 
 three years in the swamp, came in, and reported all her children 
 and grand children as with her. She brought them in this 
 morning, eighteen in number " 
 
 " And who knows ma am but there may he a hundred more 
 where them come from," interposed Millhouse, dilating again 
 into great dignity. 
 
 " Not likely ! I fancy these are all I possess, Mrs. Eveleigh ; 
 they are more than I expected, and much more, perhaps than 
 I deserve." 
 
 " It s not onpossible, ma am, that there s a hundred. How 
 should the cappin know ? He s quite onknowing of all his sar- 
 cumstances, and for that matter, aint altogether the best pusson 
 in the world to be looking a ter them. That s what I tells him. 
 Leave it all to me, cappin. He knows I m right. He ecknowl- 
 edges I m his sense-keeper ; and I am, in all business that 
 I/longs to the making of a cr#p " 
 
 " In all other matters too, it would appear. But, for the pres 
 ent, Millhouse, suffer me to be my own sense-keeper." 
 
 " You kaint, cappin, taint in you. Why, Madam Eb leigh, 
 he s the most wasteful and perfligit pusson in this heathen 
 world. With, perhaps, not more than a hundred guineas in his 
 pocket, he don t stop to throw one or two on em away, at a sin 
 gle lift, upon a beggar child, in charity like." 
 
 " A hundred guineas, sergeant ? Why what are you talking 
 about?" said Porgy, indignantly. "He has certainly the most 
 O T , erwhelming imagination ! He has converted these eight or 
 ten pieces into a treasure !" With the words, Porgy drew forth 
 the few gold pieces which he had, from his pocket, and exposed 
 them in his palm to view. 
 
 " This is all that I possess in the shape of money." 
 
 The sergeant wheeled about, indignant at the exposure, draw- 
 ing up every feature in vexation, and tossing his one hand in air 
 as if everything were lost. The widow saw the action, and be 
 gan to understand his character. She looked to Porgy with a 
 
844 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 smile. He strove to smile in reply, but the effort was a feebl 
 one, and the result only a faint and counterfeit presentment 
 He was disquieted the more, as he began to fear, from the widow s 
 looks, that she not only saw into Millhouse s character, but sus 
 pected his desires. It was, accordingly, something of a relief to 
 both the parties when Arthur Eveleigh, just at this moment, re 
 appeared with the lieutenant. Mrs. Eveleigh seized the occasion 
 to invite her guests to take refreshment, and led the way wi 
 th cm into the dwelling. As Porgy followed, Millhouse nudged 
 him with his elbow. 
 
 " How could you do it ?" he murmured : " Show jest that lee- 
 tie heap when I was a-spreading you out ?" 
 
 " Pshaw, fool !" was the rnuftcred thunder which saluted the 
 sergeant in reply, the captain fiercely pressing forward, and 
 completely covering the entrance as he did so. 
 
 "Fool!" growled the sergeant to himself. "Well, that s for 
 sarving a pusson what don t desarve it." 
 
 " Here is some old Madeira, captain, and some Jamaica. 
 Please show the way to your friends my son does not drink." 
 
 "Why, ma am," quoth Millhouse, possessing himself of a 
 beaker, and approaching the widow "you don t mean to let 
 the young man go without a sodger s edication." 
 
 " His father was a soldier, sir, yet it was his dying injunction 
 that Arthur should never drink." 
 
 " Wc$, that s mighty strange, I swow ! Twouldn t ha done 
 in our sarvice, where the only way to forgit that you had noth 
 ing to eat, was to git r yal drunk on what you had. Here s 
 your health, ma am, and my sarvice to you, ma am, for ever. 1 
 
 The lady bowed, and Porgy, having refreshed himself with 
 such a glass of Madeira as he had not often enjoyed for years, 
 withdrew, at a motion from Mrs. Eveleigh, to an adjoining room. 
 
 "Why, whar s the cappin!" cried Millhouse, who had been 
 lingering over his liquor. 
 
 And whar s the widow, too?" looking around him. Young 
 Arthur stared at this familiarity, but his glance was not re 
 marked by the speaker, "Ah! I see!" he continued, with a 
 chuckle. " All s right ! Lawd, ef people only had the sense tc 
 see the thing what s afore em." 
 
 "What did you say, sir!" said young Arthur, addressing oai 
 
THE SELtGKANT TUTS T11K CAl TALN FORWARD. 
 
 soliloquist and evidently somewhat dubious that there was 
 something offensive in what he had spoken ; forming this con 
 jecture rather from the expression of Millhouse s face than from 
 anything in his words. 
 
 " Oh ! it s you, young master ! So, you re not to drink while 
 you live ! Well, to a man whose nater is usen d to the thing, 
 like mine, that would be mighty hard ! But yon don t feel the 
 hardship yit ; and you re young. But it s a darn d sight hotter, 
 let me tell you, never to Tarn to like it, than to long for it arter- 
 wards when it s not to be got. That s a feeling, let me tell yon, 
 for I ve had it, jest as much like the devil having you on an 
 eend and no help for it, as anything on this etarnal airth. But, 
 Lord, to know as how you kaint drink makes me a leetle thirsty, 
 and ef it s your pleasure, I ll score me down two." 
 
 " If you please, sir," answered the young man ; an assent for 
 which the veteran did not wait. He had already prepared the 
 Jamaica. Lifting the draught which he had mixed, he pointed 
 to Lance Frampton "Now," said he "thar s one that makes 
 his own law agin liquor. He won t taste a bit, but only to pleas 
 ure company, and then he takes it most like as ef twas physic. 
 There s something wrong in one s natur, when you see that, It s 
 a sign he aint got nateral good taste and good sense. And he 
 aint. He s good at a scout and he kin shoot like blazes, rifle or 
 Ingin bow; and he s not afear d of Samson and Zebeedee, the 
 Philistians; but, Lord, that s all; lie aint the sense; he kaint 
 soe; kaint see some things when they re jest onder his nose, and 
 a axir^g him to look and be satisfied." 
 
 Frampton laughed, and Arthur Eveleigh followed his example. 
 The latter now began narrowly to consider Millhouse as a study. 
 The sergeant, finding "that he had secured attention, strode the 
 floor, glass in hand, sipping and dilating as he went. At last, 
 finishing his glass, he said to Arthur: 
 
 Your ma ! she s out with the cappin somewhere, eh ! They ve 
 got some sly talking to do together?" 
 
 There was a grin on his face as he spoke, which young 
 Eveleigh could not comprehend, and which he did not by any 
 means relish. He simply bowed affirmatively. 
 
 "Ila!" said Millhouse laying his one hand on the youth s 
 shoulder, " thecapphi s the man to show you fine things. He s 
 
346 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 a mo-st wonderful man, and you ll 1 arn to like him famous, t 
 love him I may say to love him as ef he was a born friend, and 
 brother, an uncle, and a son, as ef he was your own born father. 
 Eeny young man on this airth might be happy to have him for 
 a father!" 
 
 "Is he drunk?" queried Arthur, when he and Lance again got 
 out together, which they did soon after. 
 
 "No!" said the other "it s only a strange way he s got of 
 talking foolish things he don t know much what." 
 
 CHAPTER XLVIII. 
 
 PORGY FINDS A BANKER. 
 
 THE widow motioned the captain to a seat, and took one neai 
 him. Her manner was full of the sweetest frankness, and an 
 easy familiarity. With a smile, as soon as he had seated himself, 
 che said 
 
 " Captain Porgy, I am about to take a liberty with you, which 
 you must excuse on the score of old acquaintance, near neigh 
 borhood, the interest I feel in your prosperity, and the gratitude 
 which I owe you for the great service which you have so lately 
 rendered me." 
 
 "Do not speak of that, Mrs. Eveleigh " 
 
 " Oh ! but I must speak of it, captain, in some degree to justi 
 fy myself, if only to myself, for the freedom which I take with 
 you." 
 
 "Ah! madam, "with a courtly bow and expressive smile, "you 
 can have no sufficient idea of the extent of your own privileges 
 where I am concerned " 
 
 "Thank you," answered the lady, quietly; "I am disposed 
 to presume upon them, and will say what I have to deliver 
 without further apologies." 
 
 * Pray do so, my dear madam." 
 
PORGY FINDS A BANKER. 347 
 
 "Briefly, then, captain, I am not ignorant of tlie einbarmss- 
 ments which environ you, and the difficulties in the way of your 
 success. I know how much you have been a loser by the war, 
 and how great were your obligations before the war began." 
 
 "Ah ! madam, do not, I pray, remind me how greatly I have 
 been the profligate." 
 
 " I will not, unnecessarily. You have only committed a too 
 common error of our people in these parishes ; allowing hospital 
 ity and good fellowship to fling prudence out of the windows. 
 Of course, you have to pay the usual penalties; but it is due to 
 you that your friends should see that you do not suffer too greatly. 
 At this moment, what is left to you of your property can only 
 be made of profit to you, by the help of a little ready money ; 
 and of this commodity I suspect, you have not been able to find 
 enough in the army chest of General Marion to pay up your ac 
 count against the country. You have got but little pay at the 
 close of the war." 
 
 Not a copper, ma am! A few guineas, as you have seen 
 tbe loan of a friend, enough to pay my way for a week in the 
 city " 
 
 "I thought so. Now you will want supplies for the plantation : 
 clothes for the negroes ; provisions, utensils; a thousand things 
 which it should be your policy to buy/br cash, at this moment 
 when money is scarce, and the stock in the city is necessarily 
 large. With provisions, I can supply you on an easy credit ; 
 implements and utensils for working the crop, I can lend you for 
 present use ; I have a wagon to spare you for a season ; and " 
 
 "Ah ! my dear madam, you overwhelm me!" 
 
 " Hear me out, captain ! With all these things I can supply 
 you without the slightest inconvenience myself; nay, driving a 
 good bargain with you all the while. Oh ! you w r ill see that T 
 am sufficiently selfish. True, I can lend you second-hand ploughs 
 and shovels, hoes and axes, cart and wagon; but I mean to sell 
 you corn and bacon at a good price " 
 
 " But the pay !" 
 
 " Oh ! I know you have no money, but you have credit " 
 
 " I don t know" 
 
 "Yes, you have ; with me, at least, captain, and you must use 
 it You shall have corn and fodder, rice and bacon, on loan, or 
 
348 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 on a credit, as you think proper. If you make a good crop this 
 season, return me what you borrow, if you can ; if not, you shall 
 pay me, wlicn ahlc. t at the present rates for these articles." 
 
 " You are very indulgent, my dear madam, but " 
 Hear me a little farther. I must have no buts. You will 
 need money in the city. You might borrow it there, possibly ; 
 though that is very doubtful at this moment. But it is fortunate 
 that T can help you to a sum adequate to your necessities and 
 wants." 
 
 " My dear Mrs. Eveleigh 
 
 " Stop, captain, let me do the talking for awhile, if only in the 
 assertion of my feminine privilege. Wait till I confess to the ex 
 haustion of my budget, and you can then proceed to show the 
 contents of yours. I have some money not only to spare, but 
 some that I desire to lend. I wish it out at interest. I wish it 
 safely invested. It is no great deal, yet I should not like to lose 
 it. It will be safe in your hands. I can let you have five hun 
 dred guineas." 
 
 Porgy s face saddened. His head drooped into his palms. For 
 a moment he was silent. Then raising his head, he said 
 
 " This is a great kindness, Mrs. Eveleigh, which is more pre 
 cious to me by far than the possession of all your wealth. It 
 touches me, my dear madam, to the soul. It takes from ine the 
 power to answer. How shall I answer how declare my 
 thoughts, my thanks, my gratitude " 
 
 " It is my turn now to employ your own language. Not a 
 word of gratitude. Let us speak of this only in the way of bu 
 siness. It is a business transaction simply. I have money to put 
 out at interest, and you would borrow money. You shall have 
 mine " 
 
 " Here, again, my dear madam, I must falter. I certainly do 
 need money, but it will be at the lender s peril that he lends. 1 
 have no security to offer." 
 
 " What! With one of the best rice-plantations along the river, 
 and twenty-five negroes ?" 
 
 " Ah ! madam, you know not half of my ill-fortune. You do 
 not know that my plantation is mortgaged to a voracious credi 
 tor, for thrice its value, and that this mortgage pressed, at this 
 juncture, will swallow every negro that I own." 
 
PORGT FINDS A BANKER. 349 
 
 " I know the whole the worst ! I know that you are at the 
 mercy of one M Kewn, a person who is supposed to show no 
 mercy if a .selfish policy prompts the other way ; I know that he 
 has a lien upon your plantation, to a far greater amount than the 
 place will sell for ; hut I also understand, captain, that he has no 
 lien upon your negroes " 
 
 " Ah ! madam, how is that V 
 
 " These are not mortgaged. They will become liable for your 
 debt to M Kewn should he obtain a judgment against you, and a 
 part of my scheme is to make you indebted to me, that we may 
 save these negroes from him. You shall borrow my money, buy 
 my corn and bacon, and give me a mortgage upon the negroes, 
 which shall at all events secure them from him." 
 
 " You are my saving angel. By Jove, my dear madam, you 
 take me from out of the depths. I have been desponding, in 
 the very slough of despair, for a week past. You hold me up 
 by the locks while drowning. I accept your offer. Now that 1 
 can give you seciirity, I will take your loan. God bless you, 
 my dear Mrs. Eveleigh, you have made my heart of a sudden 
 very light." 
 
 The captain caught the widow s hand, carried it to his lips 
 and kissed it fervently. At that moment, he thought it the 
 prettiest and whitest hand he had ever seen. When he looked 
 up, the widow saw the moisture in his eyes, but, like a considerate 
 lady, took no heed of it. She proceeded without seeming con 
 scious of his raptures. 
 
 " This understood, captain, let us see how the arrangement can 
 be carried out. In anticipation of your acceptance of my propo 
 sition, I had prepared these letters. Here is one for Saunders & 
 Dart, which will procure for you five hundred guineas, or even 
 more should you need it, on your giving a mortgage upon a suffi 
 cient number of your slaves, their value to be estimated at the 
 present market prices." 
 
 " You shall have a mortgage upon them all, my dear madam." 
 
 The widow smiled. 
 
 " Not so, captain. You forget that twenty-five negroes are 
 w)rth a great deal more." 
 
 " True ; but T prefer that they should be secured to you, lest 
 they fall into worse hands." 
 
850 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 " But " *y dear sir, suppose I Avere to die, what would be your 
 security / My lien would be a valid one." 
 
 " My security is in your son. You have only to confide to him 
 thv? transaction. I have every confidence that a son, trained by 
 you, must be a youth of honor." 
 
 The widow looked at the speaker with affectionate gravity 
 
 " Be it so," she said ; " I will, hoAvever, see that there shall bo 
 a legal security which shall protect you, even from my son. 
 Here is another letter which I should suppose scarcely neces 
 sary, since you, yourself, must knoAv the party to whom it is 
 addressed." 
 
 Porgy read the address 
 
 " Charles Cotesworth Pinckney ! surely, I know him well. 
 We have served together ! I knew him well before the Avar." 
 
 " Nevertheless, take the letter, and confide your legal diffi 
 culties to him. He must save you from M KeAvn, if possible. 
 He can do so, if anybody can. I have already spoken to him 
 of your affairs ; do you get him to reA 7 ise your accounts Avith 
 M Kewn. There are some particulars, in respect to this man, 
 which moA e me to suspect him of great frauds in your case and 
 that of other persons. At present, I will say nothing of Avhat I 
 knoA\r or suspect ; but if I could recover the box which Avas 
 stolen from me the other day by these outlaAvs, I could shoAV 
 you a paper which, I think, Avould give us a hold upon this 
 person, M Kewn, by Avhich we should compel him to come to 
 reasonable terms. But it is needless that Ave should speak of this 
 MOAV. Here are the letters. I have said all that I have to say." 
 
 " You have saved me, Mrs. Eveleigh. What woman would 
 ha\ r e done for me what you have done V 
 
 " Many, I trust ; knowing the circumstances, and in the same 
 condition to serve you." 
 
 The captain shook his head, and, taking her hand, said 
 
 <k You are a wonder of a widow 1 You have the sonl of a 
 man !" 
 
 She smiled. 
 
 " I suppose I must take such a speech as a compliment, com 
 ing from one of the masculine gender." 
 
 "Ah!" said he, "you knoAA 7 Avhat I mean! You are not a girl 
 {lot a child not frivolous or feeble. You have a soul ! You 
 
PORGY FINDS A BANKER. 351 
 
 have earv.estness and simplicity, and these make sincerity of 
 character. You have faith, too, and " 
 
 "Which, by the way, captain, is not often a manly virtue. 
 There, I fancy, is where our sex has the advantage of yours. 
 You, perhaps, are an exception. Here, for example, you are wil 
 ling to trust me and my boy, with all your property, without any 
 security." 
 
 " Ah, madam, I could cheerfully give it to you both, did you 
 need it. The pleasurable feeling of sweet faith and confidence, 
 and generous unreserve, and liberal sympathy, which you have 
 this day shown me, is more grateful to me than any amount of 
 wealth or money. I now know where I can confide. I feel, too. 
 that there is one, at least, who can confide in me. We do not 
 watch each other as victims, or as birds of prey ; seeking to de 
 vour, fearing to be devoured. Madam, if you will permit me, I 
 will be your friend your friend." 
 
 She gave him her hand. 
 
 " No more now, captain ; let us go to the hall. I hear the 
 dinner signal." 
 
 They rose ; she led the way out, but paused at the door. 
 
 " By the way, captain, your one-armed soldier seems a very 
 queer creature." 
 
 The captain seemed annoyed, and peered into the eyes of the 
 widow, as if to fathom the extent of her discoveries or her 
 suspicions. 
 
 " Yes," said he, " a very queer creature. He will say many 
 things to surprise you. Army life sometimes spoils a good fellow, 
 who, if he remained humble, might be a favorite. Don t heed 
 him, I pray you. He is good enough in his way devoted to 
 m e imprudently devoted, I may say ; and sometimes officious 
 enough to save me against my will." 
 
 " Surely, you should not complain of such officiousness." 
 
 " I don t know ! One would have a vote in these, matters. The 
 sergeant s friendship is not sufficiently indulgent. Still, he is de 
 voted to me would die for me, without a murmur, and fight for 
 me to the last ; but the scoundrel wants to think for me, also ; 
 and that is an offence if the thing were not so ridiculous that 
 I should not much tolerate His misfortune is not to know how 
 much a simpleton he is." 
 
S52 WOOUCUAKT. 
 
 " Simpleton ! I should suppose him rather shrewd than sim 
 ple," said the widow, with a smile. 
 
 "Yes; he is shrewd after a fashion shrewd in all those re 
 spects which belong to his mode of life, and the narrow range of 
 his intellect. He is shrewd, like the beaver or the possmn : 
 knows how to find a shelter for his hide, and can find, by instinct, 
 where the corn and acorn may be gathered. He will house and 
 hive, while I should freeze and starve, perhaps. It is his misfor 
 tune that his sharpness has stimulated his self-esteem, as is usual 
 ly the case with persons of his class who prove successful. If, 
 for example he should drive a great bargain in rice or butter, he 
 would just as lief explain the law to Cotesworth Pinckney, as 
 to Tom, my cook. Ten to one should he see you at the harpsi 
 chord, he will give you a lesson in music." 
 
 " I shall be careful how I afford him the chance." 
 
 " He is only a grub, a human grub, with a monstrous instinct 
 for acquisition and saving; no more ; but withal useful, and to 
 be cherished at a distance. I have suffered him to come too 
 near, and familiarity has somewhat blunted me to his obtrusive- 
 ness. I see the evil of it only when he comes in contact with 
 others. He has been faithful, however, and I can not cast him 
 off. As long as I have a home, he must share it." 
 
 " Fordbam tells me that he is to be your overseer." 
 
 " He volunteered ; insists that he knows all about it ; and has 
 set his heart so completely upon it, that, even if I wished it oth 
 erwise, I could not well deny him. At all events, I will give 
 him a fair trial this season." 
 
 " Fordham will cheerfully assist him." 
 
 " Oh ! bless you, he fancies he can teach Fordham his busi 
 ness. I tell you he is a simpleton." 
 
 " But. he must not be suffered to ruin your crop." 
 
 " Fordham shall assist me, with a hint, should there be any 
 reason to suspect this danger. Meantime, dear madam, please 
 give the fellow no heed. He will say many things that will 
 gtartle, if not offend. But the blockhead means no evil. Will 
 you take my arm ?" 
 
A SPOKE IN THE CAPTAIN S WHEEL. 858 
 
 CHAPTER XLIX 
 
 *HE SERGEANT PUTS A SPOKE FN THE CAPTAIN S WHESL. 
 
 As the captain and the widow emerged from the inner room 
 into the hall, they discovered the sergeant pacing to and fro, 
 around the apartment. As soon as he saw them, he exclaimed, 
 almost loud enough for everybody to hear 
 
 " Arm in arm, by the pipers. Lord ! how the world moves !" 
 
 And he advanced to them, bowing, with the most complacent 
 grin. 
 
 " Pinner is a-waiting, I m a-thinking ; but Lord ! there s some 
 business that mus n t be hurried. A man must take his time, 
 ma am, in some things, even though the roast-beef is a-cooling on 
 the dish. Eh, cappin!" 
 
 And, wheeling to leeward of the captain, as he spoke, he 
 thrust the stump of his game-arm into the ribs of his superior. 
 Porgy turned quickly, and gave the subordinate a look speaking 
 daggers ; but the other only grinned. 
 
 " All right, I see !" said he, " thar s the track. Go ahead ! 
 Dinner below ! I ve been down a ready to see how it s laid out. 
 Things look mighty nice. Good management in this house. 
 Roast-beef for dinner ; a round of corn-beef also ! Tongue ! 
 cabbage ! potatoes ! Seen em all in the kitchen. Woman 
 cook ! Had a talk with her. Good cook enough ; but scolds 
 like thunder, and lays on with a double fist when the boy don t 
 fly. Hem ! How she kin laugh ! It s a sensible woman that 
 laughs out free. Sign there ain t no vinegar in the nater." 
 
 Such as the widow and Porgy led the way into the basement 
 was the running fire of speech which the sergeant kept up 
 audible to all. The widow laughed outright as she listened, and, 
 though somewhat startled by the merry peal which he heard, 
 we yet see that the reflections which it provoked in the mind of 
 the old soldier were not of a disagreeable nature. Lance Framp- 
 ton and young Eveleigh followed ; the latter wondering, as well 
 
8^4 WOODCRAFT 
 
 lie might at tlu. speech and conduct of Millhouse ; but satisfied 
 to think, with Frampton, that he was simply silly and with no 
 harm in him. The dinner-table was spread as the parties en 
 tered the saloon. The sergeant has already given us a notion 
 of the viands put before them. The widow took her seat at one 
 end of the table; her son at the other; Porgy occupied a skta 
 to himself, while the lieutenant and sergeant took the other. A 
 couple of liveried servants were in waiting. The lady herself 
 pronounced a grace, and the proceedings began. Porgy was in 
 good spirits. His mind was somewhat relieved of its troubles, 
 and the sight of dinner was calculated always to give it anima 
 tion. The return to well-known aspects of civilization, so differ 
 ent from his camp experience, was also a source of unspeakable 
 satisfaction. 
 
 " Ah ! madam !" said he, " I feel, as I look around me, that I 
 may once more become a gentleman. I have been little more 
 than a savage for the last five years. The camp makes sad 
 havoc in the tastes of a gentleman. Rough fare, rough usage, 
 the bare earth for a table, lean beef, bad soup, no bread, fre 
 quently no salt, and bad cooking these are enough to endanger 
 aay man s humanity. Talk of patriotism as you will, but, truth 
 i^ speak, we pay a monstrous high price for it in such conditions 
 us we have been subjected to in this warfare." 
 
 " But it does so sweeten the heart, cappin, when we gits a 
 good dinner like this here, at the last. Now, this is what I calls 
 it raal good dinner, Madam Eb leigh. That roast is done jest to 
 u right brownness ; though I was beginning to git mighty jubous 
 that it would be overdone, a- waiting for you and the cappin. I 
 \\ ;is beginning to think that you was a-sarving the cook on justly, 
 Now, you ve got a mighty good cook, for a woman. She ain t 
 cdzactly up to our Tom, I m a-thinking ; but then Tom s a mer- 
 racie of a cook, and at stew, roast, brile or bake, lie ain t got his 
 match, I ve a notion, in the whole country. But your cook ll 
 do. She s monstrous cross and ugly. I lied a talk with her in 
 the kitchen afore dinner but she knows how to do a thing, and 
 the way she makes the leetle niggers fly, is a sensible sight for 
 any man that wants to know how a nigger ought to be managed. 
 Now, ef she was about six months under our Tom, he d make 
 her fuss-rate." 
 
A SPOKE IN THE CAPTAIN S WHEEL. 355 
 
 The sergeant made tins long speech while waiting upon 
 Frampton, who, on public, occasions, like the present, officiated 
 as his carver. This duty was not often needful in camp where 
 one grasped his bannock in one hand and his slice of bacon in 
 the other ; where the carver was as frequently the broadsword 
 as the knife, and the fingers supplied all deficiency of forks. 
 Mis. Eveleigh smiled as she answered 
 
 " Old Peggy would scarcely tolerate being sent to school at 
 this time of day, even to such a proficient as the captain s Tom. 
 She has as rare an opinion of her own merits as a cook, as if she 
 had graduated with all the honors fifty years ago. But I have 
 no doubt of Tom s superior merits. Colonel Singleton has been 
 frequent in his praises, and Cotesworth Pinckney insists upon 
 him as beyond all comparison in a terrapin stew." 
 
 " Pinckney knows," said Porgy, " if any man. He has a 
 proper taste for the creature comforts, and has done me the lion 
 or, frequently, to discuss with me Tom s performances in this 
 preparation. But old Peggy needn t fear comparison with 
 anybody. This beef is excellent. Pray, Mrs. Eveleigh, how 
 did you save your cattle from the marauders." 
 
 " As I saved everything else, captain, by having friends on 
 both sides of the question. The leading whigs were personally 
 friendly ; while the rank and position of my husband, in the 
 British army, secured me protection on that quarter. He was 
 intimate, besides, with General Leslie, and this was of great im 
 portance to my interests. Since the general has been in com 
 mand, I have lost nothing. The result, I confess, has made me 
 somewhat unpatriotic. I supplied the enemy with aid and comfort, 
 lint always, in the phrase of the tradesmen, for a consideration. 
 I sold cattle and rice to the commissaries, and always got the 
 first prices. I thought it better wisdom to do this, than make 
 enemies by refusing, and have my cattle driven off, and my 
 houses burnt. The war, accordingly, which has ruined so many 
 has made my fortune." 
 
 " Well, ma am, ef you ll jest listen to me, you ll be axing how 
 you re to keep the fortin ! It s n mighty deal easier to make a 
 fortin than to keep it. I reckon thar s few women that kin keep 
 what they makes. It s for then to find out the right sort of 
 hands to put it in Ef they triuj 1 ;; themselves, it s a-rnost always 
 
sure to slip through tlicir fingers. All women ought to have a 
 guardmi, by law and natur . And the guardeen, in course, ought 
 to he a man-body. Now the nateral needcessity of a woman, I 
 may say, jest so soon as she gits old enough, is to git a husband 
 A husband is the only nateral guardeen of a grown woman ; and 
 when she s so foolish that she herns and haws about it, the law, 
 or, if thar s no law, the gov nor, the gineral, or whatever s the 
 ofTcer in command, he ought to look through the ranks, and 
 pick her out the right sawt of a man. That s what I say ought 
 to be the way in every well-regilated family or country." 
 
 Having made this significant and philosophical speech, the 
 sergeant plied his fork in his plate and gave his tongue a brief 
 respite. The lady looked at the captain, whose consternation 
 and chagrin, apparent in his face, gave it the most lugubrious 
 expression ; she smiled, and her blue eyes twinkled merrily ; and 
 he, unable to control the sudden impulse, laid down knife and 
 fork, and burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. The widow 
 felt the contagious influence and yielded to it. She laughed 
 with the frank, hearty, impulsive spirit of girlhood. Arthur 
 Eveleigh looked at both bewildered ; but Lance Frampton, 
 catching faint glimpses of the sergeant s impudent absurdities, 
 and taking his cue from his superiors, chuckled in under tones, 
 as in due respect for the company. Millhouse looked up with 
 astonishment, fork in hand, prongs upward, and a huge gobbet, 
 of roast-beef hanging from them at the opening doorways of his 
 jaws. 
 
 " Well, I d jest like to know what s the fun about ! I kain t 
 see edzactly, but I reckon, now, it s something I ve been a-say- 
 ing, and I don t see what I ve said so cur ous. What s it 1 I 
 only said that a grown woman, with a fortin, ought to hev a 
 guardeen, and I says that it s only nateral she should ; and who s 
 to be her guardeen, but a man-body, what kin take care of her 
 and her property ; and what man-body but her husband. An* 
 what s to laugh at in all that, is what I don t edzactly see." 
 
 " That s good logic, sergeant, whatever we may say for the 
 philosophy," quoth Porgy. 
 
 " Well, I don t mean it for any logic or philos phy ; hut I 
 mean it for the nateral law in the case ; the straight fora d up 
 and down, sense and the religion and the reason of the thing 
 
A SPOKE IN THE CAPTAINS WHEEL. 357 
 
 and if it ain t all them, why 1 ain t fit to know nothing about 
 man and woman in this breathing world, that s so full of them. 
 I ve sarved, Madam Eb leigh, in many sitiwation.s, and that s 
 \vliy I ve Parnecl to know more things than other pnssons ; and 
 what I say to you that s strange to your way of feeling and 
 thinking, is, prehaps, only bekase you hain t seed so much of 
 this airth, and the people in it, as I ve seed and know d. But 
 what I says, I don t mean for no offence, ma am, though, moutlm, 
 the wisdom of the thing is what you hain t quite come up to, 
 being a woman body, and not having an equal chance with we 
 men pussons." 
 
 " Oh ! no offence, sergeant ; on the contrary, I am very much 
 pleased at the novelty of your suggestions. They are, certainly, 
 vather new to me -" 
 
 " I reckon d as how they would be, ma am. I hain t often 
 found the pusson, man or woman, that know d quite as much as 
 me, and that s maybe, bekase they hain t had the chaince. You 
 ladies, hain t much chaince in this world to 1 arn much about it, 
 seeing as how you lives pretty much to yourselves ; and bekase 
 when men talks to you, they us ally talks about foolish things; 
 music and dancing, and dress, and how people looks and talks, 
 and what they says of one another and themselves. But, I don t 
 mprove, no how, of that way of talking. I don t see, bekaise a 
 woman s a woman, that she shouldn t Tarn to be sensible like us 
 men. But ef what I says is onpleasant to you, I ll stop. I don t 
 mean no offence, no how, as I m a free white pusson, and a 
 sodger of liberty." 
 
 " Surely, no offence, sergeant ; I beg that you will go on. I 
 like to hear your views of these subjects." 
 
 Porgy gave the widow an % appealing look, but her eyes 
 twinkled back with glances of mischievous merriment. The 
 worthy captain, by way of a diversion, seized the decanter. 
 
 " Mrs. Eveleigh, may I take wine with you ?" 
 
 The widow graciously accorded the desired permission, an 1 
 the parties bowed and sipped. 
 
 < Help yourself with wine, Lieutenant Frampton ; Sergeant 
 Miller, perhaps " 
 
 " Mill-7itw, ma am, ef you please/ 
 
 " Pardon me, sergeant " 
 
358 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 " Oh ! no offence, ma am ; only you see, there was one Millet 
 of the Pennsylvany Line, that was hung up for lying and steal 
 ing and sich like treasonable offences. He was a sort of Gineral 
 Arnold for rapscalties, and I don t like to have my name called 
 after him." 
 
 "I m very sorry, Sergean ~N[\\\-house ; but perhaps, you will 
 join Lieutenant Frampton." 
 
 "Thank you, ma am ; but ef you please, I d much prefer to 
 hev you for a partner; and, ef you d let me, I d rether try my 
 liquor out of this here diccanter" touching the Jamaica. " This 
 old rum seems the nateral drink of a sodger. The wine is a 
 trifling sort of liquor that s made, I m a-tlrinking, most for the 
 use of women." 
 
 " As you please, sergeant. Your good health, sir, and much 
 happiness." 
 
 " The same to you, ma am. A lady of your fortin desarves 
 all sorts of happiness, but, as I ve been saying, thar s no safety 
 for the fortin , and I may say thar s but leetle cha/nce for hap 
 piness, to any grown woman, onless she has a nateral guardeen, 
 and that guardeen ought to be a good husband ; and ef I was 
 the woman, Madam Eb leigh, to choose, I d be for taking my 
 husband out of the army. A sodger, who is an off cer, is about 
 the best of guardeens for a woman. He s naterally use to com 
 mand, you see, and he ll keep all things straight. Ef so be you 
 was invaded, why, here he is on the spot to defend the post, and 
 rigilate the garrison, and train the troops, even though they be 
 only nigger troops; and to carry em into battle with a hollering 
 and a whooping that ll make the inimy trimble. Lord, ma am, 
 thar s no telling the vartues of such a guardeen in a family. 
 He ll fight the enemy till all smojies ag in, and, same time, he ll 
 keep tlic garrison in right order, ready, at the word of command 
 whether it s to fight or run. I wish you, ma am, a nateral guar 
 deen, from the line of the army, for the pttrtection of your family 
 and fortin !" 
 
 Thus speaking, the sergeant waved his glass to the lady, and 
 swallowed the contents of the tumbler at one gulph. His eyes 
 nexj; sought the countenance of his captain, and he was taken 
 aback by the mixed look of horror and anger whic\i he there 
 beheld. He could not understand the expression at all. He 
 
fancied he liad been doing the thing most handsomely, ;ui<l that 
 he should thereby secure the captain s eternal gratitude. Ho 
 had somehow received the impression that Porgy was rather a 
 bashful person among women, and he felt that it was a becoming 
 duty on his part, to help him ^orward, and make the way cle;.r 
 before him. That he should have only annoyed and mortified 
 him never occurred to him for a single moment; and he did not 
 even now, while he watched the looks of his superior, fancy for 
 a second that he had given any cause for the expression of 
 countenance which he saw him wear. He rather thought that 
 the captain labored under some sudden indisposition. 
 
 " Air you sick, cappin ? You look so. Somethin s disagreed 
 with you, I reckon." 
 
 "1 should think so !" answered Porgy, with an audible groan. 
 
 Take some of that Jamaica," cried the veteran, pushing the 
 decanter across the table. " It s that Frenchified stuff you ve 
 been a-drinking. I never did hev any opinion of that sort of 
 washy liquor. Try the Jamaica." 
 
 "Not a drop, sir!" answered the captain, sternly, pushing the 
 bottle from him. " Not a drop. You cannot know what s the 
 matter, sir: if you could " 
 
 Porgy arrested himself. Speech and look were equally tending 
 to an explosion. Millhouse very complacently responded 
 
 "Well, tliar s mighty few cases of trouble in the body, that I 
 kain t know what to do for. There s the stomach and the liver, 
 and the witals, why, cappin, for any trouble in either of them, 
 there s no physic like Jamaica, Sometimes it s an inside, some 
 times it s an outside, epplication ; but every way it s a-most al 
 ways good. I don t mean to say, Madam Eb leigh, that it s so 
 good as Madara for troubles of women as for the troubles of men ; 
 but I d rether resk my chainces on Jamaica, than on eeny other 
 physic I ever seed. It s most powerful vartious in curing me of 
 my troubles. Why, ma am, when it s the bowels, we ll say 
 
 " Sergeant Millhouse !" cried Porgy, in a voice of thunder. 
 
 " Cappin !" 
 
 " Silence in the ranks, sir!" 
 
 " I m shet. up !" responded, sotto voce, the military martinet, now 
 satisfied that the captain had misconceived some of those sugges 
 tions which he had put forth for his good. He pitied his iuexpe* 
 
3(K WOODCRAFT. 
 
 rience, looked at him with a respectful sort of sorrow, then dashed 
 his fork into the meats of his plate, and proceeded to give his 
 teeth double exercise for the rigorous inactivity imposed upon his 
 tongue. Meanwhile Porgy groaned again aloud, in utter vexa 
 tion of spirit. He could eat no more. His appetite was utterly 
 gone, and ae 1 he gazed upon the untasted good things before him, 
 which he had no longer the disposition to touch, he felt that lie 
 could never forgive the offender. 
 
 "You do not eat, captain," said the widow, with interest, the 
 pleasant light still in her eye, in which the worthy captain of 
 partisans read enough for his discomfiture. He fancied that the 
 widow comprehended the whole game of the sergeant, and nat 
 urally dreaded lest she should suspect how greatly she had been 
 the subject of their conferences and calculations. Her late gener 
 ous treatment of him and sympathy in his affairs, rendered the 
 doubt trebly oppressive and painful. At all events, Millhouse 
 was silenced, though the result was reached by a process which, 
 sufficiently legitimate in camp, was hardly to be justified at the 
 dinner-table, and in the presence of a lady. The widow felt very 
 much like protesting against the assertion of military rule at her 
 board, and by one of her guests ; and was half tempted by the 
 spirit of mischief to set the sergeant again free, by provoking 
 him to farther revelations of his peculiar philosophy. But she 
 felt that the annoyance of Porgy had been sufficient, and was 
 rather apprehensive that, with so blunt a speaker as Millhouse, 
 whose experience was so various, and whose knowledge was so 
 universal, she, herself, might come in for a share of the disquiet 
 which oppressed the captain. But she employed her art, success 
 fully, in dissipating the cloud about her company, and Porgy re 
 covered after awhile, sufficiently to unite with her in the effort. 
 It was of no small importance to the object, that Millhouse did 
 not lose his appetite ; and a full enjoyment of the feast, made 
 him soon forgetful of the tempest he had provoked. 
 
 " I hain t eat such a dinner, Madame Eb leigh, sence I don t 
 know when!" was his grateful acknowledgment, as he pushed 
 away his emptied plate, and proceeded to replenish his tumbler 
 from the portly decanter of Jamaica. 
 
 " I m glad that you ve the appetite, sergeant, which rarely al 
 lows any sort of dinner to be unsatisfactory." 
 
A SPOKE IN THE CAPTAIN S WHEEL. 301 
 
 " Thank ye, ma am ; but ef you think I d lay in as I ve been 
 ft-doing, with nothing better afore me, than the or nary rations 
 of ihe camp-kettle, even with our Tom s cooking, you re very 
 much out. It s the good things you ve gin us, ma am, that s made 
 me dewour enough to sarve seventeen red-skins on a scout. I m 
 a-most ashamed to see what I ve been a-doing ; pretickilarly as 
 it don t seem to me that other people have been a-doing any 
 thing to speak of it in the same way. The cappin thar has 
 a-rnost eaten nothin ." 
 
 The captain eyed him with such a glance as the hyena might 
 be supposed to bestow upon the beast which had somehow de 
 prived him of his prey ; but he said nothing. We need not show 
 how the rest of the day was spent. The widow was cordial to 
 the close. Alillhouse was invited to see Fordham for what he 
 wanted, in his capacity as overseer ; and the details were fully 
 explained and understood, by which the implements for working, 
 the hoes, shovels, ploughs, and wagon, were to be transferred, and 
 when, from the one plantation to the other. Porgy had again 
 some words in private with the widow, a fact which again ex 
 torted shows of undisguised delight and exultation on the part 
 of the sergeant. Lance Frampton made engagements for a deer 
 hunt with Arthur Eveleigh, the two youths seeming equally well 
 pleased with each other ; and after friendly adieus, the guests 
 rode away ; Porgy clapping spurs to his steed, and going ahead 
 with a haste which declared for the continued irritation of his 
 mood, and which disquieted the sergeant a little to keep up with ; 
 as he declared that, " efter sich a dinner, one don t like to hurry 
 about n/ther !" When the two followers did reach their leader, 
 lie did not seem in the humor to notice either ; but Millhouso 
 svas not satisfied that his exertions should go without acknowledg 
 ment. 
 
 " Well, cappin," says he, " it s a good beginning of the war 
 We ve broke ground fairly in the inimy s country, and we ve 
 come off well after the first skrimmage. What a dinner she gin 
 us! And then how lib ral she offered everything. Ef ever 1 
 ->eed a better chaince for a straight up and down courtship than 
 this, I kaint jest now call it to mind. She gin y;ni a mighty fine 
 chaince, cappin, them two times when you hed her all alone by 
 her oneself; and the first time you was with her, I reckon more n 
 
 6 
 
362 WOODCRAFT 
 
 an hour. I m only hoping you warn t mealy -mouthed, seeing 
 you had to deal with a widow. The cards was in your hand, and 
 a famous game you lied to play, cappin, ef you know d what you 
 was about." 
 
 It was with singular deliberation, drawing up his horse, and 
 looking at the speaker with a savage scrt of smile, that Porgy 
 answered 
 
 " I suppose, Sergeant Millhouse, that you fancy you have 
 helped this game wonderfully." 
 
 " Reckon I Lev ! I show d you whar the trump cards laid. 
 I ve put a good spoke into your wheel." 
 
 " A spoke indeed ! Hereafter, sergeant, let me put in my own 
 spokes, will you. Let me play my own game, if you please ; 1 
 need no assistance." 
 
 And the splenetic captain, driving spurs into his horse, went 
 off at a pace, that left the two followers far behind him. 
 
 " The cappin s mighty snappish to-day," quoth Millhouse to 
 his companion. 
 
 " And a right to be so. If he had snapped off your head, he d 
 have served you right. What business have you to be meddling 
 with his courtings, if so be it s that he s after." 
 
 " Why, Lord, that was to help him only." 
 
 " He don t want your help, I reckon. He s a full-grown man, 
 I suppose. Besides, it s enough to ruin a man, seeing the way 
 you go to work. I don t know much about women folks, 
 but I m pretty sure, any woman of sense, will be mighty apt 
 to sicken of a man if she sees he gits his courting done by 
 another." 
 
 " Teach your grandmother how to suck eggs. As ef I didn t 
 know about the matter ; but that s your foolishness. There s 
 no sich thing as a woman of sense, you see ; they ain t made for 
 it. It s according to nater that man is to find them all the sense 
 they ve got any use for. Talk to me about wimmen ! Why, 
 Lance, I ve kissed more purty gals than you ever seed, and never 
 seed the woman yit that I couldn t hev had for the axing." 
 
 " Oh ! that s your conceit only. You think so because you re 
 so conceited." 
 
 " I know so, my lad ; and that s perhaps the reason jest why 
 I never married ecny. Twould ha seemed like a surienderm 
 
A SPOKE IN THE CAPTAIN S \VHKEL. 363 
 
 to the inimy at the first summons, and I m not that sort of 
 sodger." 
 
 " W^ll, sergeant," quoth the lieutenant, "I m just willing to 
 say that you re about the conceitedest person that ever served in 
 the army ; and, moreover, I m a-fchinking from all you say, that 
 a woman is, just of all animals, the hardest for you to understand. 
 You haven t begun to know em ; and the way you talked to 
 Madam Eveleigh to-day you thought it mighty fine was just 
 such foolishness as ought to hang a man. Even her son, Arthur, 
 thought you was insulting to his mother, and I had to tell him 
 that you was a very foolish sort of person, and that it was a 
 foolish way you had of talking about things you don t under 
 stand ; and he mus n t mind you." 
 
 " Y ou told him I was a fool, did you ?" 
 
 "That I did!" 
 
 vi 
 
 "Yes, indeed!" 
 
 " Me a fool ! That I should be called a fool by such a hop- 
 o -my-thumb as you you long-bodied snipe you snake with 
 out a head you leetle eend of a sarcumstance ! Lord ! how I 
 could thump you now. I jest feel like tumbling you from your 
 critter. Me a fool ! Well, I ll tell that to the cappin. Ef I 
 don t, p int your finger at me and say squash! Me, a fool! 
 Mighty good, indeed ! Mighty good !" 
 
 Frampton rode on coolly, never heeding him and never an 
 swcring. When they reached Glen-Eberley, Captain Porgy 
 was already there, alighted, and seated, pipe in his mouth, in his 
 piazza. 
 
 Millhouse knew quite enough of his superior to take care not 
 to disturb him in his mood. Though obtuse and presumptuous, 
 he had been taught to observe the features and deportment of 
 the captain, so as to time his approaches. His recent blunder 
 ings were the result of an unusual condition of elevation, whiJi 
 blinded his ordinary faculties. But the captain s manner and 
 Frampton s suggestions had opened his eyes. Accordingly, 
 specially avoiding speech, he entered the house, filled his pipe, 
 and going down to the basement story, seated himself beneath 
 the piazza where Porgy was giving voluminous breath to hig 
 chibouque. With no offences to atone for, Lance Frampton 
 
364 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 forebcre, in like manner, to obtrude upon the sultan. He busied 
 himself about the horses and the negroes, and found employment 
 out of doors for the rest of the evening. 
 
 Meanwhile, the clouds gradually cleared away, and, by the 
 time supper was ready, Porgy had recovered his good humor. 
 His bowl of coffee was enjoyed with satisfaction and composure, 
 and his irritation being subdued, he had leisure to reflect upon 
 the improved prospects in his affairs, which were due to the 
 widow s liberality. It was not in his nature to suppress or con 
 ceal his good tidings from his companions, and when the supper 
 things had been removed, Millhouse, somewhat humbled, Framp- 
 ton, as usual, quiet, Tom and Pomp rather loitering about than 
 in attendance, the captain proceeded to unfold his budget, and 
 put his followers in possession of the facts in his good fortune. 
 They were all overjoyed. Tom was the first to speak 
 
 " Hah ! enty I bin know. Da s good woman, Miss Eb ieigh. 
 He luib sense. He no like dem fool woman wha don t know 
 how to habe [behave] to gernplemans. He hab spect [respect | 
 for gemplemans. He hab spect for me, Tom. He shak han 
 wid Tom. He say Tom, I yer [hear] bout you. You maussa 
 is my frien . He s a lady, cbbry inch ob em. You inns tak ; 
 he money, maussa, ef it s only to blige [oblige] em, and ma,k 
 em feel easy. Da s it !" 
 
 Frampton said not a word, but he rose during the captain s 
 recital, came closer to him, and when he had finished his state 
 ment, grasped his hand and wrung it warmly. Millhouse, once 
 more set free to speak, launched into the most superb culogium 
 on the virtues of the lady, which we need not report, concluding 
 with the opinion that " sich a good woman, with sich a fortin, 
 ought to have a giumlmi out of the line of the army." 
 
 Porgy only looked at him, with half closed but flashing eye, 
 than, as if speaking rather to himself than to his companions, he 
 s.vid musingly 
 
 " And it is such a noble woman, that 1 was to select as the 
 subject of a matrimonial speculation!" 
 
 " And who better ?" quoth Millhouse. " She s the very sawt 
 of pusson. There s no speculating upon a poor pusson. Wlmr s 
 the profit in it 1 And ef the pusson s rich, but happens to be 
 mean and stingy, why, Lord ! even the money ain t guiue to 
 
A SPOKE IN THE CAPTAIN S WHEEL. 865 
 
 make it agreeable to liev transactions with her. But when the 
 woman has the good heart and the good fortin together, then it s 
 a good speckilation. By thunder, cappin, now s the time to 
 make a push into that market, and buy out the business. But 
 I reckon you hev n t been sleeping all the time you two was to 
 gether." 
 
 " Sergeant Millhonw," said Porgy, with great composure, 
 " you are no doubt, in some things, as shrewd and sensible a per- 
 fcon as any I know, but I think there are a few subjects upon 
 which you had better not expend your time and labor." 
 
 " Which on em, cappin 1 I d like to know." 
 
 " I think, for example, that when you go to heaven, which ] 
 trust you will do some day " 
 
 "^Arter a time, cappin ; but Lord love you, I ain t in any hurry 
 to leave this airth." 
 
 " In your own time, sergeant ; but when you do go, I think 
 it will not be altogether proper to undertake to show the angels, 
 Gabriel, Michael, Raphael, or any others with whom you may 
 become familiar, in what way they ought to use their wings. I 
 have no doubt you have some very wise notions as to how birds 
 and beasts may fly ; but the angels, perhaps, have more experi 
 ence than you, if not more wisdom, ^and it will require that you 
 should see much flying done among them, before you can ven 
 ture to give them any lessons." 
 
 " Why, cappin, I reckon you re jest a-laughing at me now, out 
 of the corner of your eye. I ain t sich a bloody fool as to do 
 them things." 
 
 " Perhaps not ! But when a man is so wise as you are on so 
 many subjects, he is apt to think himself wise in all." 
 
 " Well, that s nateral and reasonable too, I m a-thinking." 
 
 " Natural enough, no doubt, but not so certainly reasonable, 
 my good fellow. If you were suddenly to find yourself among 
 bears and buffaloes, you might reasonably undertake to show 
 them how to find their food or prey ; if among snakes, I have 
 no doubt you could teach them superior modes of beguiling young 
 frogs into their jaws ; as a dweller among hawks and owls, or 
 minks and weasels, you might open new views to them of the 
 processes by which they might empty all the hen-houses in the 
 country j and, teaching squirrels, they might be grateful to yor 
 
366 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 for new lessons in the art of gathering corn out of the fields, and 
 tracking hickory-nuts ; but I doubt if these capacities of yours 
 should entitle you to think yourself appointed to teach young 
 oysters how to swim, or young angels IIOAV to fly ; and I am 
 even doubtful how far they should justify you in an endeavor to 
 set yourself up as a teacher of love and courtship. Of one thing 
 let me assure you, before I stop, that if ever you undertake to 
 make love to any woman on my account, again, and in my pres 
 ence, by the Lord that liveth, sergeant, I will fling you from the 
 windows, though the house were as high as the tower of Babel. 
 Be warned in season ; and now let us have a sup of Jamaica, 
 before sleeping for the night." 
 
 " I told you so, " said Frampton, brushing by the sergeant 
 as the latter stood up, in silence, to drink with his superior. 
 
 " Well, thar s no owderstanding it," muttered the sergeant, 
 after the captain had retired. " Thar s some people so cross- 
 grained in the world, they won t let you make em smooth." 
 
 Tom, the cook, had his comment also. 
 
 "Hah! mass Millhouse, you yer! Look out! when maussa 
 talk so, he s in dead airnest ! Ef he tell you he guine fling you 
 out de window, he do em for true. And you know, for all you 
 see cm look and walk so lazy, he strong as a harricane when he 
 git in a passion. Pie will, sure as a gun, brek you neck out df 
 window, ef he promise!" 
 
 "Thar s no onderstanding it!" was the only response of tin 
 sergeant to those suggestions. " And all the time I was a-doing 
 the best, -jest a making his wheel run smooth!" 
 
THE BACHELOR S EMBARRASSMENTS. 867 
 
 CHAPTER L. 
 THft BACHELOR S EMBARRASSMENTS, 
 
 WE must suppose an interval of several weeks since the oc 
 currences of the last chapter. .Meanwhile, Captain Porgy, charg 
 ed with Ins letters of credit and introduction, has visited Charles 
 ton ; has ohtained the five hundred guineas of the widow; has 
 executed to her a mortgage bf all his negroes, with the exception 
 of Tom ; has procured and sent to the plantation all necessary 
 5upplies ; has conferred upon the state of his affairs with Charles 
 Ootesworth Pinckney; has received his counsel; has endeavor 
 ed, but in vain, to see his creditor, M Kewn, who was absent 
 from the city, no bne knew where; and has returned to his plan 
 tation, where he has ever since remained. 
 
 During this period his subordinates have not been idle; but 
 have proceeded, with proper energy, to the prosecution of affairs 
 at home. Millhouse, in his capacity as overseer, and Lance 
 Frampton, as a temporary assistant, have stripped to their tasks 
 and done wonders. The lands have been broken up for plant 
 ing; the negro-houses have been run up as if by magic; rails 
 have been split, and fences raised ; and the usual labors of several 
 months have been compressed into as many weeks. The negroes, 
 glad once more to find themselves in possession of a homestead, 
 certain provisions, and the protection of a white man, have work 
 ed with a hearty will and cheerfulness which have amply made 
 up for lost time. If Millhouse was vain of his prowess as an 
 overseer, he was not without good reasons for his vanity. He 
 himself thought it a merit to be boastful. 
 
 "I likes to hear a man brag," said he, "of what he kin do; 
 for then, ef he aint about the meanest skunk in all creation, he 
 must be a-doing, and a-doing well, to carry a decent face among 
 white people. Wanity is a wartue when it makes a fellow 
 work." 
 
368 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 And this philosophy Captain Porgy did not dispute. 
 
 Lance Frampton took special charge of the buildings, saw 
 to and assisted at the erection of the stables ; did all the bird- 
 ing and squirrel shooting; prepared lines for fishing; and, with 
 so much success did he pursue his field-sports, that it was very 
 rare indeed that the family went without fresh meat for dinner. 
 In these pursuits, Captain Porgy took sufficient part. Squirrels 
 were bagged in abundance; once or twice, hunting with Artlnn 
 Kveleigh s hounds, a stout buck was tumbled in his track, and. 
 on one occasion, a brown bear was badgered in the swamps with 
 so much ingenuity, that he finally rendered up his hide in return 
 for a few charges of rifle bullets and gunpowder. Young 
 Eveleigh found his new associates at Glen-Eberley particularly 
 good company, and was hunting, or birding, with Porgy or 
 Frampton, or both, every other day in the week. At his com 
 ing, always, the sergeant could be heard to Avhistle with exulta 
 tion; be seen to loll out his tongue as if in the enjoyment of a 
 sweet morsel, and to wave his one arm abroad, as if grasping 
 some very enviable possession. Sometimes he ventured to mut 
 ter, in Porgy s hearing, the hopes which were stiH *active in him, 
 in phrases peculiar to himself; as for example 
 
 "The poor young fellow feels the want of u p^ppy! It s a 
 sad needcessity, ef so be he kaint find the right one. But his 
 nose p ints out the right way. He looks straight to the line of 
 the army. Well! I wont say much; but what s to be will 
 be. The Lord s over all, and he ll bring all things straight in 
 time." 
 
 Porgy, at such speeches, would give him a look of warning, 
 which usually arrested his eloquence .before it broke bounds. 
 
 Meanwhile, the visits were not all on one side. Porgy rode 
 over to the widow s, on an average twice a week, dining there 
 usually when he went. He did not ask the companionship of 
 his followers, on such occasions, nor did they receive any more 
 invitations from the lady. Millhouse was content. If he was 
 not to be permitted to assist in the courtship, he was quite wil 
 ling to be absent from the scene of it. He would sometimes 
 mutter his apprehensions to Frampton, that things did not ad 
 vance with sufficient rapidity, and that his services would yet be 
 needed. On which occasions, the lieutenant, reiittering what 
 
THT BACHELOR S EMBARRASSMENTS. 369 
 
 had been said by Porgy, would suggest to the overseer, the 
 propriety of his making an early call upon the arch-angels, 
 Gubriel, Michael and Raphael, to see how they were getting 
 on: a suggestion that usually sent Millhou.se to the right-about, 
 At the widow Eveleigh s, Porgy was received on the most 
 friendly and familiar footing. He was well read, of contemplative 
 mind, had been trained in good society, and, though somewhat 
 wanting in the precision of the courtier, in consequence of the 
 loose, free and easy manner which he had acquired in camp, he 
 was yet capable of curbing himself, when the impulse strove 
 within him; and this done, he could minister to the social tastes 
 of his fair companion, with an ease, grace, and vivacity, that 
 made him always a very grateful visitor. Mrs. Eveleigh was 
 almost wholly free from affectations ; was frank and ever gay of 
 mood; always cheerful; always ingenuous, and never labored at 
 th e concealment of her sympathies. She laughed at the good 
 things of the captain and freely pardoned his familiarities. There 
 was a freshness and a salicncy about his peculiar humor which 
 pleased her, and when he chose to be serious, he could rise into 
 provinces of thought, generalizing from the abstract to the fa 
 miliar, and thus coupling the most remote affinities and associa 
 tions, in a strain of expression at once graceful and expressive. 
 He quickly discovered in what respects he could most success 
 fully address her ear, and he naturally availed himself of his dis 
 covery. Porgy, before entering the army, was well read in 
 Shakspere, Milton, Dry den, and the best of the then current 
 English writers. It must be admitted, we fear, that he had 
 also drank freely of fountains less undefiled ; had dipped largely 
 into the subsequent pages of the Wycherlys, the Vanbrughs, 
 the Congreves, the Wilmots, Ethereges, and Rochesters, of a 
 far less intellectual, and therefore less moral, period. But the 
 taste of the latter had not spoiled him for the just appreciation 
 of the former; had perhaps heightened his estimate of them by 
 force of contrast ; and the fruit of his familiarity with both classes 
 of writers, was a knowledge, not then commonly possessed 
 scarcely now, indeed, of materials for graceful conversation, 
 illustrated with, frequent happy quotations, which particularly 
 commended him to a woman who was, herself, at once refined 
 and intellectual. We can readily understand how interesting 
 
 16* 
 
370 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 was the intercourse between tlie parties, in a region which 
 sparsely settled, and wanting in books, left so many wearisome 
 hours, and wanting moods, whbh no plantation employments 
 could satisfy or supply. 
 
 We do not mean to say that the widow regarded Porgy in 
 any other aspect than that of a very agreeable companion. But 
 we are constrained to admit on behalf of the captain, that he 
 soon became seriously interested in the widow. That he should 
 respect her heart, and love it, because of the liberality she 
 had shown him, was natural enough; but when he came to 
 know her mind ; the sweet graces of her intellect ; her quiet, 
 gentle, always just and wholesome habit of thought; the pleas 
 ant animation o." Her fancies ; the liveliness of her conversation, 
 enriched by the a/iecdotes of a very large and varied experi 
 ence, as well in England as America, he began to admire her 
 on other grounds, so that frequent association with her became 
 almost a necessity. Still, there was a something wanting to the 
 perfect sway of the widow over her admirer ; something which he 
 felt, but could not explain, or account for, to himself. She was 
 a fine-looking woman, "fair, fat, and forty," but he found 
 himself occasionally objecting to " the fat." The very fact that 
 he was, himself, too much so, was enough to make him quarrel 
 with her possessions of the same sort. He asked himself re 
 peatedly the question: "Do I can I love this woman? as a 
 woman ought to be loved; as a man ought to love ; as she de 
 serves to be loved by any husband, and especially by me ?" 
 
 Millhouse, could he have heard this question, would have an 
 swered it without a moment s hesitation ; but Porgy never 
 broached the subject in his ears, and now, studiously, since tho 
 memorable dinner, checked every approach to it which the for 
 mer made. 
 
 " Yet," quoth the soliloquizing captain, " am I not shaping 
 tliis passion of love into a bug-bear for rny own fright and dis 
 appointment? Does it need that either the widow or myself 
 should experience all the paroxysms and fancies of eighteen, in 
 order to feel secure of the force of our attachment. Is it natural 
 jr reasonable, that, at forty-five, I at least, should need, or ex 
 pect, to recall my youthful frenzies, before venturing upon the 
 married condition ? Is not the sort of love which we require 
 
371 
 
 now, that which belongs rather to the deliberate consent of the 
 mind than the warm impulses of the blood and fancy ? Ts it 
 necessary with us, that, in addition to the cool conviction of the 
 thought, in favor of the propriety of this union, there should be 
 a nervous and excitable up springing in the heart, of tumultuous 
 emotions, indefinable, intense, passionate, eager which reject 
 reason, which baffle thought, which seem" to be guided rather by 
 dreams than by right reason and which ask none of the seen 
 rities, by which thought would shelter faith which is, in fact, 
 a faith itself, beyond any of the help or the convictions of the 
 understanding ? My judgment is perfectly satisfied with the 
 widow Eveleigh. She is vastly superior, as a lady as a wo 
 man of sense and sweetness grace and intelligence to any 
 that I know. She thinks well and kindly of me ; that is evi 
 dent. We harmonize admirably together. She listens with 
 pleasure to my speech, and I am willing to listen gladly when 
 she speaks in turn. She is a noble-looking woman a little too 
 stout, I admit but of fine figure nevertheless, and a face that 
 is at once sweet and commanding. She has wealth ; but, by 
 Jupiter, I reject that as a consideration. Her money shall not 
 enter into the estimate. Her other attractions are surely quite 
 sufficient. Yet, are they sufficient ? Am I satisfied ? Why do 
 I ask myself so doubtingly whether I can bind myself to her, 
 for life, and feel no lack, no deficiency no weight in the bonds 
 I carry?" 
 
 The captain ended the soliloquy with a sigh. He strode the 
 chamber impatiently, and paused finally before the fireplace, in 
 which the lire smouldered rather than gave forth light and heat. 
 At that moment the form of the widow Griffin rose vividly be 
 fore his eyes. 
 
 " Why is it?" he muttered to himself, "that, whenever I try 
 to meditate this question of the widow Eveleigh, the image of 
 Mrs. Griffin starts up before me. She is a fine woman undoubt 
 edly ; good, gentle, humble, affectionate ; and has no doubt 
 been very beautiful; is still very sweet to look upon; but 
 she can not compare with the widow Eveleigh ! She is not wise j 
 not learned ; is really very ignorant ; has no manners, no elo 
 quence ; is simply humble and adhesive; she is rather thin 
 than stout, tlu<. is true, her figure is good ; she has still a face 
 
of exquisite sweetness, but she is no associate for me ; she ha* 
 no resources, no thoughts, no information ; has seen nothing, 
 knows nothing ! They are not to be spoken of in the same 
 moment. The widow Eveleigh is far superior in all but simply 
 personal respects ! Yet, Griffin does move about with a de 
 lightful grace ; so soft, so modest. In household affairs she is 
 admirable. I don t know that I ever saw Mrs. Eveleigh attend 
 ing to household affairs at all. Her servants are numerous and 
 well trained. She has only to command. Yet, on a small scale, 
 considering her inadequate resources, it is wonderful with what 
 skill Griffin manages ; with how little noise, how little effort. 
 Poor woman, what a lonesome life she leads. It is abominable 
 that I have only been to see her once since I have been from 
 town. I will certainly ride over to-morrow." 
 
 And he did so ; and he dined with Mrs. Griffin ; and a very 
 nice extempore dinner did she give him. There were some cold 
 naked meats ; there was a beautiful broiled steak, a stripe from 
 a quarter of beef which she had received as a present the day 
 before from Mrs. Eveleigh ; the breadstuffs of Mrs. Griffin. were 
 inimitable ; her butter was the best in the parish, and a cool 
 draught of her buttermilk, fresh from the churn, was welcomed 
 by Porgy with all the enthusiasm of a citizen escaping, for the 
 first time, from dusty walks and walls, to the elysium of green 
 fields and forest shelter. 
 
 Notions of arcadian felicity crept into Porgy s mind. Every 
 thing seemed perfect, and perfectly delightful about the humble 
 cottage of the widow Griffin. The trees had a fresher look ; 
 the grounds seemed to shelter the most seductive recesses ; even 
 the dog lying down in the piazza, and the cow ruminating under 
 the old Pride of India before the door, seemed to enjoy dreams 
 of a happier sort than usually come to dog and cow in ordinary 
 life. The skies above the cottage appeared to wear looks of 
 superior mildness and beauty, and to impart a something kindred 
 to the looks of the beings who dwelt under their favoring auspi 
 ces. What a sweet, smiling, modest creature was Ellen Griffin, 
 whom our Lieutenant Frampton was shortly to take to his bosom. 
 And how like her still how nearly as youthful how quite 
 as meek, and gentle, and devoted was the mother. 
 
 Porgy was delighted with the part of the day spent with this 
 
THE BACHELOR S EMBARRASSMENTS. 37 A 
 
 little family. His incertitude, in matrimonial respects, increased 
 the more lie surveyed her. Griffin made her impressions, differ 
 ing much from those of the widow Eveleigh, but in their way 
 not less strong ; perhaps, stronger, since it was certain that 
 Captain Porgy showed himself much more at ease with the one 
 lady than the other. There was no doubt, indeed, that the su 
 perior social position of Mrs. Eveleigh, her equal grace and dig 
 nity of bearing, the calm, natural manner with which she met 
 his approaches, all joined, in some degree, to restrain our hero 
 to lessen, somewhat, his own ease ; to make him less assured 
 on the subject of his own dignity. ^He was sometimes warned 
 by the lady, that the brusquerie of his army habits, would not 
 altogether answer that he must be on the watch against him 
 self, to check his involuntary escapades, and never to be forget 
 ful of the fact that the time had come when, to play somewhat 
 with the language of the poet "arms must give way to 
 the gown /" 
 
 It was this feeling of constraint which chiefly qualified the 
 pleasure of his intercourse with the widow Eveleigh ; which made 
 him hesitate to give her the preference ; and which, on the other 
 hand, assisted to increase the favorable impressions which a pre 
 vious association had given him of the fair widow Griffin. With 
 her, easily awed, conscious of social inferiority, looking up with 
 great reverence to the captain of partisans, as her late husband s 
 superior, he felt under few restraints of mere language and de 
 portment. He did not dare to swear in the presence of Mrs. 
 Eveleigh ; that would have been a terrible violation of the rules 
 of good society in that day. Yet our captain had an infirmity 
 of this sort, and so inveterate was his habit, that he had only 
 been able to check himself, at times, when in the widow s pres 
 ence, by arresting the unlucky oath upon his lips by a manual 
 operation ; by clapping his broad palm entirely over his own 
 mouth. Now, he did not feel the same sort of necessity when 
 in the presence of the widow Griffin. Her social standards were 
 less exacting. Her social experiences were more adapted to his 
 own later habits, and the feeling of ease which he enjoyed in 
 her presence, was such, that, without deliberately weighing the 
 chums of the two ladies against each other, he rated it as a some 
 thing almost compensative for the surrendei of the graceful, in- 
 
374 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 tellectual attractions of the wealtliy widow. He could smoke 
 his pipe in the presence of the widow Griffin, which he had not 
 d;ired to do at Mrs. Eveleigh s. The former when he had dined 
 with her, filled his pipe, herself, from a store of tobacco which 
 might have been a hoard of her late husband, and dropped, with 
 her own hands, the little coal of fire, from the tongs, into it. It 
 \vas like a coal from the altars of Cupid, upon the heart of the 
 partisan ; and while lie sat in the piazza, after dinner, his chair 
 resting solely on its hind legs, his own thrown over the bannisters, 
 his head thrown back, at a declination almost the proper one for 
 sleep, and sent up cloud after cloud, by way of tribute to the 
 heavens, his half-shut eyes watched with a growing sense of the 
 grace and beauties of the widow, her gliding and unobtrusive 
 figure, as she busied herself about the hall and table; assisted 
 Ellen to move the table back, brushed up her hearth with a 
 fairy-like besom of broom straw, and finally drew her knitting to 
 the doorway, and sat down in silent and submissive companion 
 ship. Porgy mused and said to himself: 
 
 " One does not want an equal, but an ally in marriage. A man 
 ought to he wise enough for his wife and himself. To get a wo 
 man who shall best comprehend one is the sufficient secret ; and 
 no woman can properly comprehend her husband, who is not pre 
 pared to recognise his full superiority. When it is otherwise, 
 there are constant disputes. The woman is for ever setting up 
 for herself. She is not only unwilling that you should be her 
 master, but she sets up to be your mistress. Why, if she has 
 the mind, should she not use it ; and if she has mind enough for 
 the household, what s the use of yours ? Clearly, there can not 
 be peace in any planet which acknowledges two masters." 
 
 How long the pleasant surveys and soliloquies of the captain 
 might have continued, it is not possible to say. They were inter- 
 rr.pted by the sudden riding up of Mr. Fordham, the overseer of 
 Mrs. Eveleigh. He made a respectful bow to the captain, taking 
 off his hat, and offering his hand as he did so; and entered the 
 house, shaking hands with the widow and daughter with all the 
 frankness of an old acquaintance. After a while, the captain s 
 horse was brought out, Fordham volunteering to do the service. 
 Porgy left the overseer behind him. As he rode off, the thought 
 suddenly occurred to him 
 
DEBTOR AND CREDITOR. 375 
 
 " Can it be possible that this fellow, Fordham, is thinking O f 
 fche widow ? Humph !" 
 
 And the suggestion led to a prolonged fit of musing which was 
 only arrested when he found himself within his own avenue. 
 
 CHAPTER LI 
 
 DEBTOR AND CREDITOR. 
 
 THE next day Porgy rode over to see the wife of the squatter, 
 from whom he had received a supply of stockings, and some cloth 
 of her own and daughter s weaving. It was fortunate that lie 
 did not sufi er Millhouse to know-that he dropped three guineas into 
 the hands of little Dory when one would have sufficed for pay 
 ment. He gave other commissions to the humble family, and 
 noted with pleasure the improvements and acquisitions in the 
 little household, the fruits of his own liberality and that of Mrs. 
 Eveleigh. While sitting in the porch of the hovel, with Dory 
 quietly nestling in his lap, he was surprised to see the widow and 
 her son ride up on horseback. Of course, the interview was a 
 pleasant one all round, though our captain felt a little awkward, 
 at the first blush, when caught in his paternal relation with the 
 little girl. She, too, by some strange instinct, started up at the 
 coming of the new visitors and retreated to the side of her 
 mother. 
 
 " I had a call yesterday, captain," said Mrs. Eveleigh, " from 
 Mr. M Kewn. You have heard that he is now a resident at the 
 plantation adjoining me, which he owns. He is making the 
 rounds of the neighborhood, and you may soon look to see him, 
 [ suppose." 
 
 " Too soon, I fear," answered the captain, looking disquieted. 
 
 "Well," said she, " we must hope for the best. If I could 
 recover that box " she added, half to herself, but here sho 
 stopped, and the captain could only look curious. 
 
 " You have heard nothing of your husband yet, Mrs. Bost 
 v/ick? asked the widow of the poor woman. 
 
376 . WOODCRAFT. 
 
 " Not a word, ma am, and I don t know what to think. I m 
 dub ous something s happened to him." 
 
 To this the widow said nothing. After a pause, however, she 
 proceeded to give a commission for a quantity of homespun cloth, 
 and concluded with asking that Dory might go home and spend 
 a week with her. Dory looked earnestly toward her mother, 
 and the latter, with eyes filling, and with some reluctance in her 
 manner, gave her consent that she should go over the next day 
 Porgy accompanied the widow and her son, when they took theii 
 departure, though he did not attend them home. He was quite 
 too full of serious thoughts, which naturally came up with the 
 statement made respecting M Kewn. He had heard of that 
 person s arrival in the neighborhood; but the sympathizing man 
 ner of the widow was calculated to impress him more seriously 
 than his own thoughts, in respect to the legal relations in which 
 he stood with the Scotchman, and the danger with which he 
 might expect very soon to be threatened. This danger he well 
 knew could not long be evaded. The trial of strength must soon 
 come on, and when he reflected upon those suspicions in regard 
 to M Kewn, which the remarks of Mrs. Eveleigh had imparted 
 to his mind, upon the facts in connection with the abduction of 
 his slaves, and her conjectures in respect to the share which 
 M Kewn had taken in fche affair, he felt very much like making 
 the conflict a personal one. Our partisan would greatly have 
 relished any circumstances which would authorize a transfer of 
 the proceedings from the courts of law to those of arms. But 
 we need not anticipate his reflections, particularly as we shall 
 soon hear from his own lips, what are his feelings and resolves 
 in the matter. 
 
 The very next day M Kewn made his appearance at Glen- 
 Eberley. Porgy was alone in his piazza,, as the former rode up 
 the avenue. Millhouse,was somewhere in the rice-fields ; Lance 
 Frampton had ridden over to see Ellen Griffin, his marriage with 
 whom was very shortly to take place ; and, except Tom, the 
 cook, and Pomp, the fiddler, there was no one present to witness 
 the interview between the parties. Porgy had been smoking, 
 and the pipe was still in his mouth as M Kewn came in sight. 
 As soon as he was recognised by our partisan, the latter betrayed 
 his emotions by a single movement, which, taking the pipe from 
 
DEBTOIl AND CREDITOR. Oil 
 
 ins mouth, shivered it over the railing of the piazza. This done, 
 he remained comparatively cool ; at all events he preserved his 
 external composure. Pomp took the horse of the visitor, who, 
 at once, in -a free and easy way, ascended to where Porgy still 
 maintained his seat. As he reached the floor, the latter rose, 
 and with cairn and courtly gravity, said ; 
 
 " Mr. M Kewn, I believe." 
 
 ; At your service, captain. I m very glad to see you safe, sir, 
 after the war. It s a long time since I ve had the pleasure of 
 seeing you." 
 
 " Pleasure !" quoth Porgy then motioning to a chair " take 
 a sectt, sir." 
 
 The Scotchman accepted the reluctant invitation, laid his hat 
 down beside him, drew off his gloves, rubbed his hands, and 
 looked about him with the air of a man resolved on putting him 
 self on the easiest possible terms with his host. Porgy looked 
 on with the stern calmness of one who compels himself to sub 
 mit, with as much composure as possible, to an unpleasant ne 
 cessity which he sees not well how to escape. His visiter, mean 
 while, began with a repetition of his congratulations ; that the 
 war was over, that the country had achieved its independence, 
 that old friends were safe, that old associations were to be re 
 newed, and so forth. Porgy heard him for a while in silence 
 and great gravity of aspect, until getting weary and impatient 
 of the commonplace preliminaries which the other had employed, 
 he himself broke ground in relation to the only subject of real 
 interest between the parties. 
 
 " To make a long story short, Mr. M Kewn, I owe you a con 
 siderable amount of money, which, no doubt, you desire "should 
 be paid." 
 
 " Very true, captain, a very considerable amount indeed, out 
 of which I have been lying for several years, and which I cer 
 tainly am very much in need of." 
 
 " You are secured I think, sir, however, by bond and mort 
 gage 7" 
 
 " Secured, sir ? No, indeed ! My mortgage covers the lands 
 of Glei-Eberley, but if these were all sold to-morrow, at present 
 prices, they wouldn t pay one half of the debt for which they 
 
378 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 are bound. And you know, sir, there is a considerable unlifji .} 
 dated debt besides, sir; some thousand pounds, sir 
 
 "Ah! yes! Well, Mr. M Kewn, you certainly io ::/:>: expect 
 that I should have any money so soon after Oib war. You suf 
 ficiently appreciate the patriotism which called us int3 the fiel.i 
 and kept us in the ranks for so many years, without any com 
 pensation." 
 
 " True, sir, true ! Nobody honors more than I do the patriot 
 ism that achieved our independence ; but, sir, it is not for a sin 
 gle person like myself to do more than his share in such a con 
 flict. I have made a great many sacrifices, and lost a great de;.) 
 myself in the cause ; and you will admit that a credit of more 
 than five years " 
 
 " Is no credit at all, sir, under the present circumstances, un 
 less, perhaps, continued for as many years more." 
 
 " Oh ! that is quite impossible, Captain Porgy. I am greatly 
 in want of money, now. Buying this plantation and negroes, it 
 has stripped me quite and left me considerably in debt myself." 
 
 " I don t see how I am to help you. You can not possibly 
 suppose that I have any money." 
 
 " Well, captain, I don t know," was the answer, with a signifi 
 cant smile. " Report says that you have money, and in consid 
 erable amount. You have been purchasing largely in the city 
 
 and the rumor is " here a pause, and an increased signifi 
 
 cance of smile. 
 
 " Well, sir, what of rumor ?" 
 
 " Why, sir, the rumor goes, that Captain Porgy, returning 
 from the field of Mars with laurels, has been welcomed to those 
 of Love, and " 
 
 " Stop, sir! Mr. M Kewn, I am Billing that you shouM re 
 peat what rumor may have reported, but I must warn you by 
 no means to attempt any invention of your own." 
 
 " Inventions, sir !" And M Kewn looked a little angrily " 1 
 have no invention, Captain Porgy. I only state what others 
 have said to me, or in my hearing." 
 
 "Well, sir; confine yourself to that, if you please." 
 
 " It is briefly said, Captain Porgy. The rumor is, that a cer 
 tain wealthy widow of this neighborhood is prepared to honor the 
 laurels of the soldier, and supply all his deficiencies of fortune " 
 
DEBTOR AND CREDITOR. 37S 
 
 "Enough, Mr. M Kewn," said Porgy, arresting him with a 
 stern aspect, and warning finger uplifted. " You have said what 
 you have heard, I suppose, and now hear what I say. If, here 
 after, I hear any man repeating this story, I shall slit his tongiio 
 for him. The lady in question is one whom I greatly honor, 
 and of whom I will not hear anybody speak in disparagement. 
 There was that in your tone and manner, Mr. M Kewn, just 
 now, which I did not relish. Be pleased to take warning." 
 
 M Kewn was somewhat taken aback, but recovering himself 
 lie said 
 
 " I do not know, Captain Porgy, why I should take warning 
 in particular. I am hardly apprehensive that anybody will slit 
 my tongue for anything I say, though I am not the man to give 
 any provocation to violence on the part of anybody. Let me 
 add, sir, that I see no harm in the report which I mentioned 
 no harm, certainly, in saying that a certain brave officer of oui 
 armies has been distinguished by the favor of a certain lovely 
 and wealthy widow of our county." 
 
 " There is harm, sir, because there is great indelicacy and 
 great injustice in it. I am the proper authority in this matter, 
 and I tell you, sir, in answer to this rumor, that the intercourse 
 between Mrs, Eveleigh and myself is that simply of friendship, 
 occasioned perhaps, wholly, by a service which I had the good 
 fortune to render." 
 
 "Well, but, captain, there is no good reason why friendship, 
 in such a case, should not ripen into " 
 
 " No more, sir ! The subject is one upon which I can suffer 
 no jesting. That upon which we have to speak simply concerns 
 money. I owe you money ; you want your money you say." 
 
 " I do sir ; I have been kept out of it long enough, Captain 
 Porgy." 
 
 " Do you mean to intimate, sir, that I have perversely and 
 willingly kept you out of your money ?" 
 
 " I state nothing, sir, but the absolute fact, that the money is 
 due me, has been due too long, and that I certainly expect it 
 to be paid, and paid very soon." 
 
 " Very good, sir ! Such then is your expectation. Now, sir 
 hear inc. I shall expect from you a full statement of our ac 
 counts, with all items of charge particularly stated." 
 
380 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 " Why, sir, you ve had the accounts rendered you in full, so 
 years ago." 
 
 " No, sir ; such is not the case. It is true, I was improvident 
 enough not to demand them, and to take your summary state 
 ments when I should have had a full bill of particulars. I re 
 quire them now, sir." 
 
 " In the case of the bond and mortgage, sir, the requisition 
 need not be answered. That is a liquidated claim, acknowledged 
 under seal, and, sir, according to law " 
 
 " You are something of a lawyer, I perceive, Mr. M Kewn, 
 and I claim to know nothing about law. Still, I have some 
 hope of justice, and, in the case of bond given and mortgage 
 sealed and signed, under circumstances of error or fraud " 
 
 " Do you mean to impute fraud to me. Captain Porgy T de 
 manded M Kewn with some fierceness of aspect. 
 
 "And if I did, sir, do you suppose I should value a fig your 
 hectoring looks ? Keep your temper within bounds, Mr. M Kewn : 
 for you would try to bully me in vain ; and to let you under 
 stand this more fully, let me tell you that I do impute fraud to 
 you" 
 
 " Ha !" rising from his seat. 
 
 " Yes, sir ! I think you at once a great and a little rascal. 
 Since you demand my opinion, you shall have it. I believe you 
 have cheated me in these accounts, for the satisfaction of v/hich, 
 in my blind confidence and folly, I gave you a lien apon rny 
 property. I shall require a thorough overhauling of your ac 
 counts, from the beginning, sir, and fancy that I shall be able to 
 find, in some process of law, a means by which to arrive at the 
 awards of justice !" 
 
 " Very well, sir ; very well, sir," gathering up hat and gloves 
 and shaking them in both hands with nervous fury "If it s 
 law you want, sir, you shall have it. You shall have enough to 
 remember it all your life." 
 
 And he wheeled about to descend the steps. Here he encoun 
 tered Millhouse, at whose back stood Tom, the cook, and Pomp 
 the fiddler. 
 
 " Say the word, cappin." quoth Millhouse, and I ll give the 
 fellow a h ist." 
 
 ** Say de wud, maussa ; da s all," echoed Tom, his sleeves 
 
DEBTOR AND CREDITOR, 381 
 
 already rolled up ; while Pomp threw himself into an attitude, 
 claws extended as if about to grapple with a bear. M Kewn 
 looked at the enemies in his path, and drew up with recovering 
 dignity 
 
 " Am I to be assaulted in your house, Captain Porgy ?" 
 
 " Let him go, Millhouse ! Let him pass." 
 
 The three made way for him, reluctantly, Millhouse 
 
 " I feel mighty onpleasant at parting with the critter, without 
 
 giving him jest one squeeze! I reckon that s the fellow they 
 
 calls M Kewii." 
 
 Tne creditor, by this time, was on horseback. He looked 
 
 back with gleaming eyes upon the group, then dashed up the 
 
 avenue at full gallop. 
 
 " It s cl ar, cappin, that the war s declared atween you !" 
 
 " Yes, Millhouse, and the army-chest nearly empty." 
 
 " A\ r ell, we ll do the fighting all for love ; eh, Tom !" 
 
 " Hah ! da s jist de way for fight, kai.se you lubs it ! But 
 
 how yon guine light 1 Da bucrah ain t de sawt of pusson to 
 
 lub yer [hear] de bullet whistle." 
 
 " A)?. ! Tom ! there s not the sort of fighting that he intends. 
 
 He makes the sheriff do his fighting. Do you remember what 
 
 I told you about the sheriff?" 
 
 "Enty, I member, maussa] He s a warmint, you bin tell 
 
 me 
 
 " Yes, indeed, and now, how to keep you all from falling into 
 his clutches." 
 
 A long consultation followed between the captain and sergeant, 
 to which Tom occasionally contributed a characteristic sugges 
 tion. Lance Frampton returned at night to share in the discus 
 sion. Neither of the parties, however, could throw much light 
 upon the difficulty which embarrassed them, and Captain Porgy. 
 while he reflected, felt that he had perhaps brought on the con 
 flict of strength rather prematurely, and that prudence should 
 have prompted more forbearance; but whenever he recalled the 
 references made by M Kewii to the widow Eveleigh, he became 
 reconciled to his own rashness. 
 
 No ! d ii the fellow ! whatever happens I shall never re 
 gret what I said to hum. Better break at once with such a scoun 
 
382 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 drcl, than have him perpetually about ytu; now fawning, now 
 threatening ; always vexing your soul, and, whatever the delay, 
 destroying you at last. I can face all the evil that he threatens 
 with a stout heart, but can t, with any heart of contentment, saf 
 fer him 10 face me with his scoundrel countenance!" 
 
 CHAPTER LII. 
 
 THE RANDOM SHAFT. 
 
 THE news soon got abroad of what had taken place at Glen 
 Eberley, between its proprietor and creditor. M Kewn s own 
 rage forced him to tell the story to various persons, and Mill- 
 house conveyed the substance of it to Fordham, the very night 
 that it took place. The two overseers had met that night, in 
 the basement of the dwelling at Glen-Eberley ; Millhouse hav 
 ing taken one of the lower rooms to himself, while that adjoin 
 ing had been assigned to Frampton. Porgy was suffered to live 
 in loftier state, above stairs, to himself. The parties met always 
 at the same table in the dining-room, and would sit together 
 usually of an evening ; but Millhouse had his own circle, of 
 whom Fordham was one, whom he received only in his own do 
 main. The two overseers went over together the whole history 
 of the relations of our partisan with M Kewn, as far as they 
 knew it, and discussed with some anxiety the modes of escape 
 for their superior from so voracious a person. It need not b<5 
 stated here, that the united wisdom of the two was scarcely of a 
 sort to help them very greatly in the encounter with the diffi 
 culty. The substance of all Fordham learned was conveyed the 
 next day to Mrs. Eveleigh, whose interest in the affairs of Cap 
 tain Porgy was no secret to him. He, himself, felt a great sym 
 pathy for our partisan, and found it impossible to avoid talking 
 over the matter, and meditating the modes of escape. Of course 
 the widow saw at a glance, that none of the suggestions of her 
 overseer or of the captain s, could avail for any useful purpose. 
 The next day she wrote a note to Porgy, requesting him to visit 
 her; a summons which he promptly obeyed. Her son. Arthur, 
 
THE RANDOM SHAFT. 383 
 
 hi ought the invitation and the captain accompanied him on his 
 return. 
 
 The two, however widely removed by years and experience 
 had become pretty close intimates, and Arthur had learned to 
 relish the eccentricities of his senior, particularly as he always 
 found something in his conversation which sensibly compelled 
 his thoughts in a novel direction. Porgy loved the society of 
 fho young and framed his conversation to suit their tastes and 
 impulses. He was playful as well as thoughtful, could happily 
 unite the playful with the thoughtful, as is the case usually with 
 the contemplative mind ; and, what with narratives of the stir 
 ring events of the army, anecdotes of persons and performances, 
 a lively satirical vein, and a frank humor, he contrived, without 
 much effort, to make himself highly attractive to the youth, who 
 frequently rode over to Glen-Eberley to sit, as well as lird with 
 him, and who, for a time, became quite enthusiastic in his admi 
 ration of the partisan. He frequently amused his mother with 
 a recital of the subject-matter of conversation between them, and 
 learned to repeat the good things of the captain, as if they were 
 his own. 
 
 Porgy, who liked the grace and spirit of the youth, was pleased 
 with the admiration which he displayed, and was at some pains 
 to secure it. Arthur possessed a pair of foils, left by his father ; 
 Porgy gave him lessons in fencing, and was equally ^delighted 
 with his rapidity of improvement, and the grace and ease of his 
 address in swordmanship. In brief, the veteran and the youth 
 were on terms of the most cordial intimacy; and the latter, as 
 soon as he heard the particulars, became, of course, deeply con 
 cerned in the legal embarrassments of the former. We need 
 not say that he could give no help by his counsels in the matter, 
 though he rather inclined to the opinion of Millhouse that the 
 better method was to contrive some way of lighting through the 
 difficulty, and it was with a modest earnestness that he whispered 
 to the overseer his perfect willingness to serve as a volunteer in 
 any expedition which should contemplate this method of squar 
 ing accounts with Porgy s creditor. 
 
 He listened with curious interest, and possibly some dissatis 
 faction, when he heard his mother gravely rebuke the captain for 
 suffering himself to get angry with M Kewn. 
 
384 WOODCRAFP. 
 
 "You ought to. have conciliated him as far as possible. Your 
 policy should be to gain time. There is none in precipitating the 
 event. Doubtless, you had provocation, but " 
 
 "Very great!" muttered Porgy, but he could not venture to 
 tell her that she herself had been the subject. 
 
 "We must still gain time, captain gain as much as possible. 
 There are now no courts in session. There will be none till the 
 fall. I don t know much of business, but I suppose M Kewn 
 can scarcely proceed till then " 
 
 "I don t know that, * said Porgy. "I know very little of the 
 law, but I believe there are certain processes which, even before 
 judgment, will enable a creditor to bind or seize a debtor s 
 property." 
 
 "We must consult with Pinckney. In the meantime, there is 
 a matter which concerns this person M Kewn, in connection with 
 both of us, which, perhaps, ought to be known to you, though, 
 as affairs at present show themselves, 1 do not see that the pos 
 session of my statement merely, will be of any avail to your re 
 lief." 
 
 She proceeded to tell of the papers which she had appropria 
 ted from the desk of Moncrieff, but suddenly arrested herself to 
 say to her son 
 
 " Arthur, remember, this matter must not be whispered by you 
 to anybody. It may do mischief if repeated, particularly under 
 impulse or excitement, and without the means to prove what I 
 say." 
 
 She then went on to speak of the missing box, and manu 
 scripts, and to describe the contents of the latter, giving par 
 ticulars, of which we are already in possession. Porgy saw at 
 once the importance of the statement could the writings be re 
 covered. 
 
 " My dear widow," said he, "could we recover the papers, 
 and prove this fellow s handwriting, which I could do easily, we 
 should have him at our mercy." 
 
 " This was the opinion of Mr. Parsons; it is also the opinion of 
 Colonel Pinckney. I have consulted both ; and but for the un 
 fortunate loss of that box " 
 
 " It must be found. I will find it," cried Porgy. " That fel 
 low Bo st wick must be forthcoming." 
 
THE RANDOM SHAFT. 385 
 
 "Has nothing been heard of him? " 
 
 "Nothing for two months. I have. 1 sworn to hang him to the 
 first tree, should I lay hands on him, if only for the benefit of his 
 wife and children." 
 
 "Stay!" said Mrs. Evcleigh, putting her finger on her lips, 
 "here comes little Dory." 
 
 And the little girl came into the piazza at the moment, and 
 entered the hall, passing promptly forward to the captain, and put 
 ting her little white hand into his. He looked at her with sur 
 prise. Such a change as a few days had wrought in her appear 
 ance. She was newly clad, in better quality of clothes, made in 
 better style. It was Cinderella, the drudge, converted by fairv 
 hands, into Cinderella, the princess. The little thing, beautiful in 
 all her obscurity, was singularly so, emerged from the cloud. She 
 smiled consciously, as she saw the captain perusing the change. 
 He kissed her between the eyes, and with a bound she darted 
 away. 
 
 Scarcely had she gone when Arthur Eveleigh showed himself a 
 little rest i if. In a few moments lie disappeared also, leaving the 
 captain and his mother to conclude their conference without wit 
 nesses. It is not our cue to pursue it further. Enough that 
 Porgy left the widow, with the increasing conviction that he was 
 destined in some way, to owe his safety and relief to her. They 
 had agreed upon certain matters together. They were both to 
 write to Colonel Pinckncy, while Porgy was to renew his efforts 
 at recovering the missing box. When Arthur Eveleigh returned 
 to the house which he had left, on some pretext of looking after 
 dogs and birds, he seemed a little disappointed that Porgy was 
 gone, and at once resolved to ride after him. But he gave up the 
 resolution in a moment after, and contented himself with taking 
 up his rifle, calling up one of his squirrel dogs, and setting forth 
 on a tramp into the pine woods. 
 
 His route led him directly down the avenue leading to the 
 high road. He had scarcely emerged into this, before he en 
 countered, on horseback, the very person of whose secret scoun- 
 drelism he had heard so much said only an hour before. M Kewn, 
 the Scotchman, was making his way directly toward the widow s. 
 Arthur would have avoided him, by burying himself in the 
 woods, but it was too late to escape unseen, and M Kewn seemed 
 
 17 
 
386 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 determined to prevent it. He saw, in the aspect of the young 
 man, the prejudices and suspicions of the mother. His policy 
 was to disarm them both. We have seen that he had already 
 called upon the widow. The rifle on the lad s shoulder, and the 
 dog beside him, at once afforded him a clew by which to conciliate 
 the son. 
 
 "Good morning, master Arthur," said he, as he approached, 
 "good morning. You are for a squirrel-hunt, I perceive. Well, 
 if you will take my woods you will find them in greater abun 
 dance than in any oilier part of the country. I do believe my 
 fox-squirrels are the most magnificent of size that can be found 
 anywhere. One of them can easily eat up half a dozen ears of 
 corn at a sitting. Do me the favor to hunt them up and make 
 as familiar acquaintance with them as possible. My grounds are 
 always free to you, and you will find them full of other game. 
 If you want a deer-hunt at any time, let me hear the night before, 
 and I will secure you a shot ; and as for doves and partridges, 
 you can scarcely skirt the fields anywhere without stumbling over 
 them." 
 
 Arthur thanked him, but received the overture with coldness. 
 
 "Your mother s at home, I suppose. I see she has recently had 
 a visitor." 
 
 Here he smiled significantly, looking up the road. The youth 
 boAved. 
 
 "Captain Porgy is a frequent visitor at your house." 
 
 "Yes, sir; he comes sometimes, and we are always glad to see 
 him." 
 
 I suppose so, I suppose so ; the captain is no doubt a great 
 gallant most military men are. The ladies usually find them 
 invincible. But the wars are now over, master Arthur, and the 
 gown, they tell us, when that is the case, soon gets the better of 
 the sword. It is the captain s misfortune that he does not suffi 
 ciently credit this fact. I barely reminded him of the fact that 
 he owed me a certain and very considerable debt, and he was for 
 fighting me on the spot. Ha ! ha ! what do you think of such a 
 mode of settling a debt?" 
 
 Arthur only looked at his rifle but said nothing. 
 
 " You say your mother s at home, master Arthur." 
 
THE RANDOM SHAFT. 387 
 
 "Well, I am about to visit her. I will not carry you back with 
 me, knowing you had much rather be at better sport. But see to 
 my fox-squirrels, will you, and remember, whenever you would 
 have a crack at a buck, I can certainly give you one always." 
 
 The youth again thanked hi:n, and hurried into the woods. 
 M Kewen looked after him as he disappeared, and muttered 
 " The cub has had his warning. They are all against me. But! 
 " and he gave his horse the spur, and was soon cantering up the 
 avenue to the widow s dwelling. She received him very civilly, 
 and after a few preliminary flourishes, he began 
 
 "I have called to see you, Mrs. Eveleigh, as a neighbor whom I 
 very much respect, in order that your mind may not be abused by 
 anything that you may have heard respecting a late affair with 
 Captain Porgy. I believe, my dear madam, I have as much desire 
 to keep on good terms with my neighbors, as anybody in the 
 country, and, I am sure, if there be any difference between us, the 
 fault is not likely to be mine. You must know, Mrs. Eveleigh, 
 that I am, and for years have been, a large creditor of the captain, 
 and I hold a mortgage upon his lands. But this mortgage 
 does not half secure me, and I called upon the captain, intending 
 only to ask him for additional securities, when he fell into a 
 paassion with me, without any sort of provocation, imputed fraud 
 to me, and I know not what, and so we parted. Now, as you may 
 hear of this matter, from other source, I wish to put you in the 
 right as to the particulars. I have too much desire of your good 
 opinion to be willing that you should hear of the affair from any 
 body but. myself, and I am anxious to assure you that, as a new 
 comer into the neigborhood, it is neither my policy nor my wish 
 to have any quarrel with anybody." 
 
 He said a great deal more than this, all in the most conciliatory 
 vein. He had his own objects in keeping on good terms, espe 
 cially with the widow, and in fact he was glad of any occasion 
 which would justify his frequent visits. He was a bachelor and 
 she was a fine woman, having a fine fortune. But, apart from 
 this he still entertained some larking apprehensions that lie 
 might be somewhat in her power. Thinking that she had posses 
 sed herself of the missing papers between himself and Moncrieff, 
 yet not quite sure that Bostwick had obtained them, there was 
 
388 "WOODCRAFT. 
 
 a lurking anxiety which troubled him and made him quite solicit 
 ous to make the most favorable impression upon her. 
 
 M Kewn was a hard but not ill-looking man, and he had seen 
 enough of good society to carry himself fairly in the presence of 
 the sex. We must not forget to mention that everything about 
 him was in the first style of fashion. He wore the best clothes, 
 and did not stint himself in decorations of his person. His fingers 
 shone with rings. A large jewel blazed in the pin which secured 
 the ruffles of his shirt. The frills at his wrist were of the finest 
 lace. His boots would have satisfied the Bond or Broad street 
 dandy ; the equipment of his horse would have won admiration on 
 the race-course ; and all his domestic arrangements contemplated 
 the best defined standards of the existing fashions. M Kewn was 
 emulous of the best social position, and, so far as money might be 
 expected to secure it for him, it was used without stint or limit. 
 The lady heard him with quiet composure to the end. 
 
 "I thank you for your complimentary wishes in regard to my 
 self, but I should prefer not to be required to sit in judgment on 
 this difficulty between yourself and Captain Porgy." 
 
 "Ah! madam, but that I have reason to know that the captain 
 has been beforehand with me in his revelations, and the fear that 
 you might be prejudiced in the matter " 
 
 "Even if this were the case," said the lady, " I do not see, Mr. 
 M Kewn, how the matter will affect the interests of either of 
 you." 
 
 "Ah ! madam, I am not unaware of the interest which you have 
 taken in the captain s affairs. I am not ignorant that it is to you, 
 and your friendly loans, that he owes the restoration of his estab 
 lishment, and " 
 
 "This, Mr. M Kewen, it appears to me, is a business which 
 need not provoke the concern of any third person?" 
 
 "1 beg pardon, madam; you are right I simply stated what 
 was the notorious fact." 
 
 "It is one of those facts, sir, in respect to which there has been 
 no privacy. Captain Porgy was in want of money, and I had 
 money to lend. I lent him money on good security I have a 
 mortgage on all his negroes." * 
 
 "But, "with a smile, "that mortgage will scarcely cover them 
 
THE RANDOM SHAFT. 389 
 
 all. At present prices, five hundred guineas will scarcely buy 
 twenty-five negroes, or the half of them. 1 
 
 M Kewn had evidently been a shrewd inquirer into the affairs of 
 the parties. 
 
 "Perhaps not, sir, and that is not the idea I mean to convey. 
 It is enough that my loan is quite secure in order to justify me in 
 making it, though I am not aware that my conduct in the transac 
 tion needs any justification." 
 
 "By no means, madam; do not suppose me guilty of any inten 
 tion to convey such an idea." 
 
 The lady proceeded. 
 
 "One word, Mr. M Kewn. Captain Porgy is a gentleman by 
 birth and education, who has been doing good service to his 
 country, for several years, without pay or reward, and to the 
 grievous injury of his own fortune. It seems to me that he de 
 serves every indulgence that can be accorded him by those who 
 are grateful to Heaven for those blessings of independence which 
 he has helped to win. I am at a loss to see what motive there can 
 be for urging him to a satisfaction of these debts which can only 
 be paid now by the entire sacrifice of his property. " 
 
 "I understand you, madam; and I may say that I should have 
 been pleased to indulge Captain Porgy, but he is a person who 
 won t let you serve him; and when he insolently called my 
 honor in question, he determined me to give him no indulgence. 
 In brief, Mrs. Eveleigh, Captain Porgy is, with all his education, 
 a mere ruffian, a coarse brutal soldier, who thinks to carry it 
 with violence and a high hand against the laws. I$ut he shall 
 see. His personal insolence to me, madam, is beyond forgive 
 ness." 
 
 "Really, Mr. M Kewn, I do not understand you. Am I to un 
 derstand that your mode of resenting a personal indignity is to 
 clothe yourself with the terrors of the creditor, instead of 
 
 The lady paused. She felt that, in uttering this sarcasm, she 
 had gone too far; she was doing mischief to the cause which she 
 wished to help; and that her policy, on the part of Porgy, and 
 as she had been counselling him, ought to be conciliatory only. 
 She was conscious of error on other grounds. She had suffered 
 local associations, and the current practice of the times to usurp 
 place in her judgment, at the expense of her religion. She was 
 
390 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 tacitly exhorting or goading the creditor to resort for his re 
 dress to the duello. She stopped herself suddenly, and apolo 
 gized 
 
 " Pardon me, Mr. M Kewn, I am wrong. I did not mean this. 
 Perhaps you are quite right in the assertion of your claims by es 
 tablished legal methods. That I should have thought, or sug 
 gested otherwise, only shows that the subject is one that should 
 not properly concern me. Let me simply repeat the wish, that 
 you should accord as much favor to a brave man, not a ruffian, 
 sir, one whom, perhaps, you have somewhat ruffled, as may be 
 consistent Avith your interests. It will do you no hurt, but rather 
 much good in the neighborhood, if you forbear as long as possible 
 toward one who is such a general favorite." 
 
 Nay, madam. One who is evidently a particular favorite, 1 he 
 answered with a sneering smile. The cheeks of the lady flushed 
 and her eyes flashed fiercely. 
 
 "I am hardly prepared to understand you, Mr. M Kewn, though 
 it is evident from your looks and manner, that you designed some 
 thing very sarcastic and offensive 
 
 "By no means, Mrs. Eveieigh " 
 
 "Let me say, sir, by way of protecting myself, that I have been 
 a soldier s wife; and I have learned some lessons from his feelings 
 and opinions, which I may not advocate, or argue, or defend in 
 any way, but the force of which I acknowledge, and the laws of 
 which I obey. I am a woman, sir, it is true; but if it needs, for 
 the assertion of my womanly dignity, that I should lift the weapon 
 of the man, I shall feel no womanly fears in doing so. If you 
 have any scruples, sir, in resenting personal indignities as men are 
 apt to do, I have none ; and though I have many friends, sir, who 
 would cheerfully do battle in my cause, I would not suffer one of 
 them to incur any peril of life or limb, while I am able to stand 
 and confront the insolent, myself. I trust you understand me. 
 Here, if you please, our conference must end." 
 
 She had risen when these things were to be said, and M Kewn 
 had risen also. Her tall and portly form, her commanding atti 
 tude, her sharp, "clear voice, the indignant fires in her eye, breath 
 ing equal scorn and nobleness, were a study for the dramatic 
 painter. She was Boadicca at the head of her Britons. She was 
 Zenobia at the moment of her greatest confidence, when she de- 
 
LANCE FRAMPTON GOES OFF SlDDHNLV- 391 
 
 lied all the strength of Koine. jM Kewn was awed. He stammered 
 some inconsequential apologies, which only caused her lip to curl 
 with increasing scorn. 
 
 "Go, sir," she said, " no more! and yet, one word, sir. There 
 was a person, one Bostwick, a squatter for many years on my lands, 
 whom I had the fortune to encounter at Colonel Moncrieffs, when 
 you and he were in conference together. Do you know, sir, what 
 has become of that man Bostwick? " 
 
 It was a mere instinct a somewhat savage one that prompted 
 the widow to send that shaft at random, seeking the proper vic 
 tim. It struck him. M 1 Kewn, awed before, was now shocked, 
 almost paralyzed. His face grew pale as death, his lips parted but 
 not for speech. He stood for a moment vacantly gazing upon the 
 inquirer, as still erect, with finger pointing directly to him, she 
 seemed to await his answer. With a prodigious effort he at length 
 gave it only a single sentence, uttered with a gasp. 
 
 " I know nothing of the man." 
 
 "Ah ! well ! enough ! " 
 
 She said no more, and, with a faint "good morning, madarn," 
 he hurried from the apartment. 
 
 CHAPTER LIII. 
 
 LANCE FRAMPTON GOES OFF SUDDENLY. 
 
 M KEWN rode home with scarcely a consciousness of his progress. 
 It was some time before he recovered from the Parthian shaft of 
 the widow. He saw at a glance whither her suspicions tended, 
 and it was only after a long interval, that he reflected that hers 
 were suspicious only ; and so long as the missing papers were not 
 forthcoming, no matter what suspicions were entertained, they 
 could in no respect avail against him. But were the papers miss 
 ing ? Had not Bostwick deceived him ? Was there not some 
 reason for supposing, from the course taken by the widow, that 
 she was still in possession of her proofs ? But a little calm reflec 
 tion satisfied him to the* contrary. 
 
392 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 " If she had them, she never, with such a feeling toward me, and 
 with such a passionate nature, could have kept quiet so long. It 
 is her passion that speaks now. Had I not provoked her, she never 
 would have let out so much. I m glad that I stung her into the 
 showing of her secret. It is now clear to me that Bostwick got the 
 
 papers; and he I trust that he is in the sea, or in , it matters 
 
 not where, so he keeps away from this ! Yet, she saw the rascal 
 in that one glimpse at MoncriefPs ? She has the eye of a hawk ! 
 She would fight too! Swords or pistols, five paces even, and 
 never wink an eye ! She should have been a man ! She would 
 have been a famous one! As a woman she would never suit 
 me. She might undertake to horsewhip me in my own house 
 hold. Will she marry this mammoth Porgy? No, indeed ! She 
 has been too long free to seek or suffer another master, now ! 
 D n him, unless she marries, she shall not save him! I 
 will strip and beggar him, if there be law or lawyer in the 
 land." 
 
 Leaving him in this amiable determination, which underwent no 
 modification with the progress of time, it is proper that we should 
 glance at the affairs of other and subordinate parties in our true 
 life-history. The appointed period had arrived when Lance Framp- 
 ton should be united to Ellen Griffin. The wedding was to take 
 place the very night of the day when Captain Porgy made his last 
 visit, as briefly described, to Mrs. Evclcigh. When he returned 
 home, not having remained to dine as usual with the widow, he 
 found the lieutenant already making his preparations. His wed 
 ding clothes were spread out; Pomp was brushing his boots; one 
 of the negro-girls was mending his suspenders; and the youth 
 himself, busy about a dozen different things, was in such a state of 
 nervous excitement that he really knew not what he was doing. 
 Somewhat forgetting his own affairs, the captain jested with him 
 merrily, after his style of humor, upon the event which w as ap 
 proaching. Porgy, of course, had been invited to attend; so had 
 Millhouse; Tom, the cook, without being asked, notified the 
 young man that he w r ould be present. 
 
 "You s one ob de family, Mass Lance, an I muss see how 
 you guine through the ezaction [transaction]. It s wuss to some 
 people, dis getting married, dan guine into de fight. Dey feels 
 all ober wid a sawt ob cold sweat; and dey trimbles jest as ef 
 
LANCE FKAMI TOX GOES OFF SCDDEXLY. 393 
 
 (ley was a-feelin de push of the inimy s basnets. Now, .Mass 
 Lance, le me tell you wha for do. Jes before you hub for tan 
 up before de passou, tek a stiff pull at de Jamaica. lie will help 
 mek you trong. Ef you skear, iiebber le Miss Ellen sec YOU 
 skear; for womans always will tak dc vantage of man wha dey 
 see is skear. You rnus tan up traight, hole up your head, and 
 jes you keep finking all dc time, ef you no kill de inimy, lie 
 guine to kill you. Da s it! and when you t iuk dat, you will shet 
 your teet close, an fling out wid all yeu stren th as ef you yer de 
 cry all bout you, Ta lton Qua ters ! Ef you no feel trong dat 
 time, when you t ink you y er dat cry, you loss de battle, and de 
 woman will be you maussa for ebber arter, for ree t oitsan yers 
 [years], an all de season s guine to be winter ! Yerry wha I say, 
 and feel youse f strong fore de time for de light come on." 
 
 The sergeant contented himself with saying that, "Marriage is 
 good for some people. Twould do for the cappin, ef so be he 
 got hold of the right pusson ; but what sich a fellow as you, 
 should git a wife for, thar s no seeing. You ve got nothing, and 
 she s got nothing, and two nothings put together, make a houseful 
 of ixpenses, and not a shilling of profit. Twouldn t ha done you 
 eeny harm, Lance, ef you d waited tell you was forty-five, like the 
 cappin, and then died a bachelor, onless you could git the right 
 sort of pusson, one that had something to put to your nothing, 
 my lad. But that s not saying that Ellen ain t a mighty nice gal, 
 Lance; she is, and a purty, and I reckon it s that mostly what has 
 taken you. But to be purty ain t enough, and when you marries so 
 soon, you don t give yourself hafe a chaince." 
 
 But these cold-water speeches did not discourage our lieuten 
 ant. They only served to increase his anxiety to have the affair 
 over. An hour before sunset found the whole cavalcade ready for 
 departure and in the saddle, Porgy taking the lead, Lance and 
 Millhouse riding together, just behind him, and Tom and Pomp 
 bringing up the rear. Pomp had his violin slung about his neck. 
 In his blue jacket, with red facings, his glazed cap, and white 
 homespun breeches, Pomp felt that he had made a large stride in 
 dignity since the period of his rescue from the British hulks. AYo 
 owe it to the captain not to omit stating that he had sent off a cart 
 
 17* 
 
394 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 a couple of hours before, with a demijohn of Jamaica, a gallon of 
 wine, and some other small creature comforts designed to help out 
 the merry-making. He had also some presents for the bride in the 
 shape of dresses and ornament, and a box and barrel, also con 
 veyed by the cart, contained a pretty little contribution to the 
 future housekeeping of the young couple. Millhouse saw these 
 things put up to be sent, with no cordial feelings, though the sub 
 ject was one upon which he dared not openly say a single word. 
 But, in secret soliloquy, he deplored the captain s profligacy: 
 
 "They doesn t stand in need of all them things, and it s jest 
 nothing better than waste. Waste breeds want; and the Lord 
 knows how soon he ll be a-wanting everything himself. Then 
 what s the look out ? It runs from him, when he s got it, jest 
 like water from the mill, when the dam s broke down in a fresh. 
 Lord ! how he does want a strick master over him !" 
 
 It was sunset when the party reached Mrs. Griffin s, and the 
 company was already beginning to assemble. There were several 
 young people of both sexes whom the captain did not know, and 
 one of the girls, all of whom had walked, had got a tub of water 
 in front of the house and was cooly washing her feet. Fordham, 
 the overseer, was already present, and it struck Porgy that he 
 seemed very much at home. He was assisting Mrs. Griffin in 
 spreading and arranging tables. The captain thought he appear 
 ed officious rather than polite, particularly as he saw him dispo 
 sing the tippet upon the widow s shoulders, which had been dis 
 ordered by her exertions. There was much good-humored talk, 
 and some mirth, in under tones between them, which put the 
 overseer in a more obtrusive and less agreeable point of view 
 than he had hitherto shown himself to Porgy s eyes. But the 
 affair was one of a sort to render all parties free and easy, and 
 our captain was persuaded that the customs of the country, and 
 the class, with which he did not claim to be very familiar, might 
 possibly justify all these freedoms. He was the more readily 
 disposed to think thus when the widow Griffin, approaching him 
 with the profoundest deference, and full of smiles, entreated him 
 to come and take a seat which she had placed and prepared en 
 tirely for him, where he could be at ease, in one of the best posi 
 tions for witnessing the ceremony, and on a capacious cushion 
 
LANCE FRAMPTON GOES OFF SUDDENLY. 395 
 
 which she herself had made especially for his use, and of which 
 she entreated his acceptance. The captain was easily persuaded. 
 The seat was a good one. The cushion gave him the notion of 
 a new luxury. He forgot very soon all his misgivings, while she 
 sat beside him, listening with the most deferential manner to all 
 he had to say, and Fordham civilly contented himself with 
 making merry with the young people in the porch. 
 
 Candles and torches were lighted. The parson had arrived ; 
 the guests crowded into the hall, and pretty soon filled it. A de 
 cent interval, and the parson asked after the young lady. And 
 soon she appeared attended by one bridesmaid. Ellen Griffin 
 certainly looked very pretty in her simple white muslin frock, 
 with one bright flower stuck in her silken ringlets, contrasting 
 not more with them than with the delicate paleness of her cheeks. 
 At her approach, Millhouse clapped Frampton on his shoulder, 
 and murmured pretty loudly in his ears 
 
 "Now, don t be skear d. As Tom says, jest you think you re 
 a-charging the inimy, and stand up stout for the crossing of bag - 
 nets. Don t you forgit the cappin is a-lookiug on you." 
 
 And the youth stood up, and his fingers met and twined 
 in with those of the damsel, and the parson confronted them, 
 and the ceremony was begun. Millhouse stood up in the rear 
 of the lieutenant. But the occasional push in the ribs, and 
 whispers which he gave him, did not seem to inspirit the youth, 
 whose head continued to hang down, bashfully, until in the midst 
 of the .ceremony, the voice of the sergeant became audible 
 "Heads up, and the Lord be with you !" to the consternation 
 of the parson and half of the assembly. The youth was more 
 prompt and decided in his demonstrations when he was in 
 structed to salute the bride, which he did with a resounding 
 smack that gave satisfactory testimony to the ears of the sergeant, 
 who exclaimed 
 
 " Well, that s doing it something like. Nobody kin say now it 
 isn t done ! " 
 
 The parson followed the example of the bridegroom, and Capt. 
 Porgy followed him. The captain did not rest content until he 
 bestowed a similar compliment, very suddenly, upon the widow 
 Griffin herself, who stood provokingly nigh to Ellen ; but he was 
 confounded, a moment after, to find the overseer, Fordham, 
 taking a similarly extempore liberty. 
 
39G WOODCBAFT. 
 
 Pie s surely been tasting the Jamaica ! " muttered Porgy sotto 
 roce; but Millhouse, who overheard the speech, promptly re 
 pined 
 
 " He s after the sperrit and the flesh, both ! Lord ! I swow ! 
 but I should like to eat a leetle off the same plate ! The widow 
 looks like a mighty nice eatable ! " 
 
 Porgy turned away from the speaker as in some displeasure, 
 and resumed his scat upon the cushioned chair. The ceremony 
 was fairly over; it had not been a long one; and merry was the 
 uproar that followed. The company adjourned to the piazza, to 
 dance, leaving the hall mostly vacant, and to the free use of those 
 who were to arrange the supper. Porgy had his chair wheeled 
 out to the porch. In those days the parson, like any person of 
 flesh and blood, waited for the frolic and the feast ; and he and 
 Porgy, while the fiddle of Pomp began to speak up, engaged in 
 a warm controversy as to the merits of matrimony; both being 
 upon the same side throughout, but differing in the philosophies 
 by which the subject was approached. The fiddle of Pomp 
 called up many guests who had not been invited. The negroes 
 of a dozen plantations filled the yard in front, already practicing 
 in "Juba" and "double shuffle." Suddenly Millhouse discov 
 ered that the w r hole regiment of Glen-Ebcrly was among the 
 crowd. Here was a palpable infraction of the laws. Here was 
 treachery and insubordination. The sergeant was in great com 
 motion. 
 
 "I w r on t stand it, cappin, I ll be into em like a troop of dra 
 goons. They must pack, every rascal among em, man and 
 woman, or hickories don t grow in this country. " 
 
 "Psho!" growled Tom, the cook, " wha for you make so much 
 bodderation, Mass Millhouse, when der s no use? De nigger done 
 he w?/k [work], he mus hab he play ! Enty you see dis dah 
 wedding time, when ebb rybody, wha aint git marry hese f, kin 
 hab he fun ? " 
 
 "Tom s right," quoth Porgy, "let the negroes stay, Millhouse, 
 and enjoy themselves." 
 
 "They won t be worth a copper for work to-morrow, cap- 
 pin." 
 
 " Then we must give them holyday. But that s all a" mistake. 
 They will work better for a little play to-night. " 
 
LAXCE FRAMPTOX GOES OFF SUDDENLY. M? 
 
 "Dasatrute, Massa, " said Tom. "De sergeant is too foolish 
 preticklar. I don t t ink he want nigger for sleep as much. Sleep 
 ing and dance is de t ing for inek nigger wuk like a gompU iium, 
 and keep him from tief. When he dance, he sweat out all he 
 badness. Den he good, lub he maussa, an tan up to he wuk, 
 like a sodgcr g in de inimy. I wonder, Mass Millhouse, ef you 
 nebber lows youse f any pleasure?" 
 
 "Do you ever see me at it, Tom? Do you ever see me dancing?" 
 
 "Da s kaise youkain t. You got only one arm for swing, when 
 you shakes you leg, an you goes over the wrong side. But nigger 
 wha got he two arm, and he two leg, him. kin dance an feel he 
 speerit joyful ! Look a dem two boy, yonder, wha dance Juba ! 
 Enty he do em great. Dem fellows is de most righteous young 
 fellows, in Juba, I bin see, for t ousand ye rs ! See how de leetle 
 one shuffle he right leg, while t udder one dey sleep. See how 
 he s a-slappiug he t ighs [thighs] wid bot he hand, jes in time 
 wid de fiddle, le de fiddle jump about in wha tune he please. 
 And de fellow look, all de time, as ef he bin sleep ; he eyes shut, 
 and he face wid no more spression in em, dan a greasy punkin. 
 And de udder fellow, wha keep he eyes so open bright, and look 
 so keen pon de leetle f ellow, see how he manage em ! How he 
 rnek urn do jest de berry t ing he want. Now he go quick, now 
 he go slow, now he go quick and slow togedder, till de berry bones 
 seem a-guine to fall out ob de breeches. Ha ! de t ing is a most 
 extonishing, won ersome t ing, Mass MiU hus. Dem two boys is 
 mak for not ing in dis woiT but to dance Juba." 
 
 Ef they were mine, Tom, I d find out at the end of a hickory, 
 ef they wasn t good for something besides Juba. I d tickle em to 
 another sort of music in the cornfield, I tell you." 
 
 " Psho !" muttered Tom, turning away, and giving the benefit 
 of his response to his master. "De sergeant is too cussed foolish 
 He don t comprehend nigger nater t all ! He s always a-talking 
 bout wuk, as ef der s no play in de worl ; and always a-talking 
 bout hick ries, as ef de airth was nebber mek to raise any better 
 t ings! Da s always de way wid dem poor buckrah, wha s got no 
 nigger ob he own. He s always a-wanting to wuk de niggers ob 
 udder gcmpleman s tell he bones come out ob he skin. Ha! he 
 hab leetle touch on he own shoulder ebbry morning, from hard 
 
398 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 maussa jes for tek de stiffness out ob um, he had better cornpev 
 hension ob nigger nater. " 
 
 This taste may suffice ; white and black danced till midnight. 
 the former in the piazza and hall, the latter in the open grounds 
 beneath the trees. Solid was the supper that followed, and strong 
 the drink ; and wild enough the scampering, great the shouting, 
 hard the riding, when each party took its way homeward, some 
 where about the dawn. Lance Frampton s wedding was an event 
 which is still remembered upon the Ashepoo ! 
 
 CHAPTER LIV. 
 
 SUMMARY OF THE EVENTS OF THE SUMMER. 
 
 The summer was passing rapidly. Captain Porgy lived pretty 
 much after the old fashion. He spent a day, occasionally, at 
 Mrs. Eveleigh s; sometimes took his dinner at the widow Grif 
 fins, where Lance Frampton had taken up his abode with his 
 young wife. The time passed without much excitement, and 
 with no absolute embarrassments. It was in the future that the 
 clouds lowered threateningly, and the philosophy of Porgy was 
 not to look in their direction. Whenever the subject of M Kewn 
 arid his claims was forced upon him by the pertinacious Millhouse, 
 he thundered and lightened for awhile, and finally thought upon 
 the widow Eveleigh. She was his one particular bright star of 
 hope, and one whom the policy of the sergeant forever sought to 
 place before his sight, as far as he dared do so after the stern 
 warnings which he had received. The captain s own musings 
 brought up her image with sufficient frequency to his eyes He 
 found himself perpetually arguing her virtues, her excellences, 
 her charms, all of which he acknowledged freely to himself. 
 But a sigh would usually close these meditations. There was 
 still a something wanting to her perfections he could not say 
 what or a something in excess, which left him always unwilling 
 to pursue the subject to any definite result. It was through the 
 medium of his own infirmity that he saw this deficiency, or ex 
 cess, in the widow Eveleigh; and it was because he looked 
 
SUMMARY OF THfc EVENTS OF THE SUMMER. 399 
 
 through this medium only, that he failed to determine in what it 
 consisted. We are better prepared to see, and to resolve it, 
 than himself. His infirmity was self-esteem ; and the venera 
 tion of the widow had been qualified and moderated by a long 
 intercourse with those higher walks of society in which faith is 
 not apt to flourish. Convention is very much the foe to hero- 
 worship. 
 
 When dissatisfied with his meditations in respect to the widow 
 Eveleigh, Porgy found, invariably, that his thoughts turned for 
 relief in the direction of the simpler widow, Griffin. There was 
 something so meek, and artless about this lady something so 
 little imposing and yet so grateful that his mood became 
 soothed while he contemplated her. She rose before his mind s 
 eye in an always gracious attitude, and with a most gracious as 
 pect. He remembered her slight form with pleasure, and con 
 trasted it with that of the widow Eveleigh. The latter, in all 
 such comparisons, appeared to him to be quite too masculine. 
 The former seemed the very embodiment of feminine perfection. 
 His ideas of woman were those of a period when the sex had 
 not yet determined to set up for itself; though wielding a most 
 potent sway in society, and even in politics, particularly in Car 
 olina. His models, accordingly, required absolute dependence 
 on the woman, though without meaning to abridge any of her 
 claims as a woman, or to subjugate, unjustly, her individuality. 
 He never dreamed of denying her any of her rights, when he 
 required that she should recognize the lordship in the hands of 
 the man. There was something assured in the position and the 
 endowments of Mrs. Eveleigh, tihat startled his sense of author 
 ity. Her very virtues had a manly air which girded his pride; 
 her very wealth, and its importance to his own case, seemed to 
 humble him in his relations with her; and, when he admitted to 
 himself, as he was forced to do, that this wealth was really a 
 consideration in the case, the effect was to lessen the attractions 
 of the lady, which were yet intrinsically very great in his eyes. 
 Had she been poor, and were there no Mrs. Griffin in the field, 
 we venture the opinion that Porgy would never have fancied any 
 other woman. As the case stood, there were times when he de 
 cidedly gave her the preference, and fancied that his heart was 
 absorbed wholly with her attractions ; when he believed that 
 
400 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 his affections demanded her sympathies, and would be satisfied 
 with nothing less; and, so feeling and thinking, he would re 
 solve to ride over, after an early breakfast, or to an early break 
 fast, the next morning, and bring his cogitations to the final issue. 
 and his doubts along with them. But a sound night s rest, with 
 probably, some faint, shadowy vision of the widow Griffin in his 
 dreams, seemed to act as a sudden sedative to his passion for the 
 wealthier widow, and the; purpose would dissipate in thin air, 
 while his meditations would become more dubious, yet more in 
 tense than ever. 
 
 His admiration of, or attachment to, Mrs. Griffin, was not with 
 out its qualifications also. He could not fail to be disquieted as 
 he reviewed her intellectual inferiority. In this respect she 
 was the weakest vessel in the world. She had no intelligent 
 conversation; no education; no experience; no natural endow 
 ment; no mother wit; and, though her sweet temper, gentle 
 bearing, and implicit deference, were all agreeable to his self- 
 esteem, he could not but ask himself whether something more 
 was not requisite to the one whom he should choose as a com 
 panion in life. While the war lasted, and when the life of the 
 camp rendered most of the desires sensual, he would not have 
 vexed himself with any such inquiry. He then thought only 
 of the excellent management of the housekeeper; her skill in 
 soups and stews ; the culinary art which w ould convert a vege 
 table into a meat, a wing of chicken into a fish; and at such like 
 magical and charming transmutation, viewed through this medium 
 only, Mrs. Griffin was incomparable. 
 
 To a certain extent, Porgy still examined his object through 
 these endowments. But his media of study had become multi 
 plied. Released from the camp, and its necessities, old tastes 
 had been resumed; ancient refinements were recalled; long 
 banished, or subdued tastes, had been once more lifting their 
 heads; and his sensual nature had been gradually taking some 
 golden and amber hues and tints from the recovering vigor of 
 his mind and fancy. Griffin, was, in certain respects, therefore, 
 as difficult a case as Eveleigh ; and the captain of partisans, sit 
 ting, pipe in mouth, at Glen-Eberley, and looking alternately to 
 the fair widows on either hand, might be likened to that saga 
 cious animal (whose length of ears has been unkindly made his 
 
SUMMARY OF THE EVENTS OF THE SUMLMEI!. 10 1 
 
 reproach) who sees, on each side of him, a goodly bundle of 
 sweet, fresh hay which, drawing ]> th ways with equal strength, 
 will suffer him honestly to approach neither. Tin- struggle, oc 
 casioned by this embarrassment of taste and need, was suHi as 
 sometimes to effect the appetite of the captain. He evidently 
 grew thinner as the summer and his meditations grew loo-ether. 
 There was no such amplitude of waist to be girded in, as former 
 ly, when he toiled, and traveled, and fought, daily and nightly 
 in the army. He now took in several more inches in his belt, 
 and, not unfrequently, the sergeant drew his attention, with great 
 concern, to his diminishing dimensions. 
 
 "It s the heat of this infernal summer/ 1 said Porgy. 
 
 It s the want of a fondelsome wife, cappin, as I ve been 
 a-telling you all along a woman of substance, that ll help you 
 
 drive off that d d sheriff, and put the idee that troubles you 
 
 out of your head. " 
 
 "How the devil should I get the sheriff out of my head when 
 you are constantly thrusting the monster .in at my ears?" 
 
 This outbreak usually terminated such a discussion. Mean 
 while, M Kewn, like some great political spider, sat in the cen 
 tre of his web of meshes, and waited for the moment when, in 
 the exhausted state of the victim, he should fall an easy prey. 
 He was not altogether quiet, though seemingly so. The law 
 yers were at work in the city. Documents, with great seals, 
 were in preparation. Vile inventions, vulgarly denominated 
 writs and declarations, were getting in readiness. Malice was 
 keen in its work, and law, with solemn brow and sable gown, 
 was pliant ready to give the demon all necessary help. Stately 
 and serious letters had been brought to Porgy, from dignitaries 
 yclept attorneys-at-law. He, too, had written solemn, serious, 
 stately letters, to the same class of persons. These parties 
 had benevolently arrayed themselves on both sides of the ques 
 tion, in order, perhaps, that justice, like any other fat body try 
 ing two stools, should fall equally between ; and Porgy, on the 
 one hand, and M Kewn on the other, were looking to what was 
 termed, "The Fall Term," for results more serious than any 
 fall of the leaves known to either. M Kewn confidently calcu 
 lated on having his claims, in cash and character, equally satis 
 fied ; but he had moments of misgiving and apprehension, which 
 
402 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 were usually betrayed by brief and expressive oaths, and adjura 
 tions, at the expense of persons of both the sexes. 
 
 "That d d prying widow! If I only knew! That ras 
 cally ruffian, Bostwick were I sure that he is feeding the sharks 
 at the bottom of the sea ! " 
 
 Unfortunately, the sea refused thus far to give up its secrets, 
 and the prying widow was quite as close as she was curious. 
 She seemed quite able to keep hers ! The Scotchman got noth 
 ing by his curses. Whether, like chickens, they were destined to 
 return home for roosting, is yet to be seen. 
 
 In certain respects, the summer was auspicious to all the par 
 ties. M Kewn s overseer made him a good crop; Fordham did 
 the same thing for the widow Eveleigh; while Millhouse, as if 
 fate had studied to justify all his boasts, succeeded in beating 
 both of them, in proportion to the force he managed. Never 
 had such a crop been seen at Glen-Eberley. The season had 
 been a very favorable one, and Millhouse had shown indefatiga 
 ble industry, and a very correct judgment; but he probably owed 
 a good deal to the fact that the lands of Glcn-Eberley had been 
 so long rested. Harvest-time came on under good auspices, and 
 the sheaves were heavy with the golden grain. Great was the 
 swangering of Sergeant Millhouse, as, with his brother overseers, 
 he viewed the result. He had engaged in a friendly contest 
 with Fordham and Ely the wood (the overseer of M Kewn), and 
 they yielded the palm of victory to the sergeant, with good humor, 
 and literally "acknowledged the corn." Porgy was pleased, 
 of course; and Millhouse required him to acknowledge his satis 
 faction, and do justice to his particular genius, almost nightly. 
 But, even the sergeant s pride and pleasure bore no sort of pro 
 portion to the same feelings in the bosoms of his negroes. They 
 showed their triumph in greater degree than any other parties. 
 It was their labor that had brought out the genius of Millhouse 
 it was their crop that had put to shame the negroes of the 
 rival plantations. Porgy gave them a great pork supper after 
 the harvesting, while the bets of the sergeant, with his oppo 
 nents, resulted in his obtaining one also, at their expense, in 
 which Jamaica occupied a place as distinguished as pork, and 
 which kept busy the party of a dozen the number present 
 through the hours of a goodly Saturday night; the dawn of 
 
SUMMARY OF THE EVENTS OF THE SUMMEK. 403 
 
 Sunday looking in upon them at their feast, before they were quite 
 satisfied to think it finished. 
 
 The profits of Captain Porgy afforded no satisfaction to M Kewn, 
 except so far as they promised better spoils when they should 
 fall into his clutches. If he rejoiced in the result, it was with no 
 benevolent feeling; but rather with the vindictive thought of the 
 deeper disappointment and mortification of his victim, whom he 
 should thus topple and overthrow from a greater height and hope, 
 which this good fortune should encourage. He felt secure 
 of his prey, unless in one event, and this he labored in a secret 
 way to defeat. This subject of his apprehension was the mar 
 riage of Porgy with the widow Eveleigh. He was quite aware 
 of the frequent visits of the captain to the widow, and he con 
 jectured the object of these visits with much more certainty than 
 Porgy could determine it. He, himself, would have had no 
 objection to taking the widow to wife ; but he had common sense 
 enough to see that, with her present prejudices against him, the 
 thing was impossible. But he was a hopeful person, and did not 
 despair, if time were allowed him, of removing these prejudices. 
 At all events, it was his policy to prevent the success of the 
 captain. To this he addressed himself in sundry ways, one of 
 which, and the most likely to be successful, was through her son, 
 Arthur. 
 
 We have seen that his first approaches to the young man had 
 been unsuccessful. For a time they continued so ; but persever 
 ance will remove mountains quite as certainly as fate; youth is 
 flexible, indulgent, and easily persuaded, where much solicitude 
 is show r n to gain it; and graduaHy M Kewn found his way to 
 the ears of Arthur. He contrived, without seeming effort, to 
 meet the lad frequent!} , when he rode out or rambled in the 
 woods. He was always particularly deferential to him, and thus 
 adroitly appealed to the vanities of youth. Gradually, the slight 
 barriers which the mother s prejudices had raised up in his mind, 
 against his neighbor, were broken down. Finally, M Kewn per 
 suaded him to accept a beautiful English pointer. The widow 
 was greatly chagrined that he did so, and Arthur himself was 
 disposed to regret it, when he found his mother so much fretted ; 
 but the thing was done : and the result was, that the son, after a 
 while, began to combat the prejudices of his mother against the 
 
404 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 Scotchman, and to declare that lie always found him a marvellous 
 proper man. The widow became a little angry, and the young 
 man a little insubordinate. Unfortunately, she could not venture 
 to convey all her suspicions to him, of M Kewn s agency with the 
 outlaws, and with the robbery of her negroes, so that all she 
 could exhibit was her naked and, seemingly, unreasoning hostil 
 ity, which Arthur was old enough to see Licked obvious justifica 
 tion. It was additionally unlucky that, recently, the cares and 
 anxieties of ~Ffi(}gy had rendered him a somewhat cloudy com 
 panion for the young man, while the marriage and withdrawal of 
 Lance Frampton, had taken from him one of the chief inducements 
 for his visits to Glen-Eberley. 
 
 Under these circumstances, M Kewn enjoyed favorable oppor 
 tunities which he never allowed to escape him. Gradually, and 
 when in some measure he had won the ears of the youth, he 
 suffered himself to speak of the affairs of Porgy of his reck 
 lessness (if character, and his associates; his debts; and went 
 so far as to indulge in some sneers at his mammoth dimensions, 
 his amplitude of abdomen, and the enormous appetite in which 
 he was supposed to indulge. When he found, after a while, that 
 these jests and sneers, provoked the young man s smiles, he felt 
 encouraged. His next labor a more delicate one, but which he 
 pursued with as much art as diligence was to convey to the 
 youth a notion of what he supposed to be the object of Porgy in 
 his visits to his mother. He insinuated the idea, so formidable to 
 a young man of self-esteem, of a despotic father-in-law; then 
 hinted at the w r aste of property to supply the appetite, or repair 
 the ruined fortunes of profligate ; and then, in immediate sequence, 
 he would turn to Progy, and make a ludicrous portrait of his un 
 wieldy figure. 
 
 The youth was slow to receive the revelation so gradually 
 made ; but, at length, it unfolded itself fully before the eyes of 
 his mind, and then, a great many things, hitherto strange in his 
 past experience, became clear to his understanding. He could 
 now comprehend the impudent language and manner of Mill- 
 House, when the party dined with his mother, already described 
 and which then provoked his wonder. As a matter of course 
 his indignation was aroused, and the chief force of it fell upon 
 the captain. But the suggestions of M Kewn, as they were de- 
 
SUMMARY OF THE EVENTS OF THE SUMMER. 405 
 
 signed, led him farther, led him to thimk somewhat harshly of 
 his mother, and suspiciously of her motives in aiding the cap 
 tain. That she should sympathize with Porgy, encourage his 
 visits, aid him with loans of money, receive him with so much 
 welcome, show herself so solicitous of his comforts, were all as 
 cribed to her own secret attachment to the man, and argued the 
 probability that she would finally lift him into the lordship of the 
 household; an idea which Arthur Eveleigh found quite insup 
 portable. The moment that this apprehension was forced upon 
 him, he hurried home full of aroused feelings which he neither 
 could, nor desired to, suppress. This happened at a moment 
 of some importance. He found Captain Porgy closeted with his 
 mother, evidently discussing some matter, which seemed of mu 
 tual interest. Perhaps it may be well to account for the present 
 interview. 
 
 As we have shown, the time was ripening fast for the consum 
 mation of M Kewn s legal projects for the ruin of his debtor. 
 The summer had past: the fatal "Fall Term" had come; the 
 courts were in session; and at length there were decrees, and 
 judgments. Porgy was advised by his lawyers that danger was at 
 hand ; and that he might soon reasonably look to see hawks abroad. 
 He had been warned also that his case could not be helped, that 
 judgment could not long be averted. He, accordingly, pre 
 pared himself, as well as he could, to fold his robes about him 
 and die with decency. There were some preliminary perform 
 ances which he felt to be absolutely necessary to his peace of mind. 
 In order to attend to one of these, he summoned Tom to his 
 presence. 
 
 "Tom," said he, "put on your best clothes. I want you to 
 ride over with me to Mrs. Eveleigh." 
 
 Tom was soon becomingly equipped. The master and man 
 were soon mounted; and, on the way, the captain opened the 
 business upon which he was bent, to his favorite cuinnier. 
 
 "Tom." 
 
 "Sah!" 
 
 "You are still a tolerably young fellow." 
 
 "Ha! maussa, enty I bin know dat." 
 
 "You have no wife, but you will be thinking of one some of 
 these days." 
 
406 WOODCKAFT. 
 
 "Lawd ha mussy; we does we bes , but who kin tell wha 
 guine happen to um next day and to-morrow?" 
 
 "True, Tom, who knows! You will get a wife, you will prob 
 ably have a family, and you might be happy for a great many 
 years, if your life were spared so long." 
 
 "Da s true, maussa." 
 
 "I don t wish to shorten your life, Tom 
 
 "Wha maussa!" 
 
 " I wish to see you live as long as God will let you " 
 
 "To be sure; t ank you, maussa! " 
 
 But, Tom, if I am to see you live as the slave of. that scoun 
 drel, M Kewn, I should rather you were dead. Now, Tom, I must 
 either sell you to Mrs. Eveleigh, or shoot you." 
 
 "Shoot me Tom! Oh! git out, maussa, da s all only you ole 
 foolish talk. Tom aint for shoot." 
 
 "Then I must sell you, Tom, or M Kewn will have you." 
 
 "Ha! I tek de swamp fuss ! I nebber guine lib wid dat crook- 
 eye Scotchman. 
 
 "Better live with Mrs. Eveleigh." 
 
 "I no so much lub for lib wid woman, nodder, maussa. Wo 
 man, maussa, is a most too hard pon nigger. Wha for I must be 
 sell?" 
 
 " I owe M Kewn money the sheriff will seize you if you be 
 long to me. I wish Mrs. Eveleigh to buy you, to keep you out of 
 his clutches ; and if I am ever able to buy you back from her, I 
 will do so. Meanwhile, I will hire you from Mrs. Eveleigh." 
 
 Such was Porgy s scheme, by which to save his favorite. Tom, 
 for a long time, failed to see the merits of it; but, silenced at 
 length, if not satisfied, he followed his master, with a very gloomy 
 aspect, to the residence and the presence of the widow. There, 
 our captain of partisans made a frank showing of his fears, his 
 wishes Tom being in the presence all the while. 
 
 "Pinckney writes that nothing can be done to avert this 
 judgment that it must take effect that the lien upon the 
 lands is perfect that judgment upon the unliquidated accounts, 
 once entered, will bind all the slave property and moveabies 
 subject only to your mortgage, and that that mortgage will not 
 prevent the &ale_ Tom, Mrs. Eveleigh, I* the only one of my 
 negroes not covered by your mortgage. I hesitated to forego 
 
SUMMAKY OF THE EVENTS OF THE SUMMER. 407 
 
 my entire control over his destinies, as it was my purpose always 
 that Tom should never be the slave of any man but myself. 
 I should free him this hour, if this were possible ; but Piuckney 
 writes that such grunt of freedom would not avail against 
 existing debts and creditors. But I may make a lona-fiih sale 
 of him, Mrs. Eveleigh, and I propose to do so to you. You will 
 give me a hundred guineas for him, with the understanding 
 between us that I am to hire him from you at fair wages, and that 
 } T OU will sell him back to me, on the same terms, when 
 ever I shaJl feel able to repurchase him. Should I never do this, 
 my dear madam, I shall still feel some consolation that I have kept 
 toy vow to sell him to no other man and, in selling him to a 
 woman, I sell him to one whom I esteem the very first among her 
 sex. 
 
 Here Tom put in. 
 
 "You buy me, Miss Eb leigh, I good sarbant to yer. You se a 
 lady. Yer wha maussa say. He s berry much trouble dese times, 
 and don t know wha for do! You kin help em. Help em, an I 
 berry much blige to you, ma am. Ef you buy me, I promise you 
 I guine tek care ob you, same as I tek care of maussa, When 
 Tom say he guinc be good sarbent, you kin do no better dan buy 
 um." 
 
 "I believe you, Tom, said the lady, kindly, " and I think I may 
 safely promise you to be an indulgent mistress. You may go home 
 now, Tom, and consider yourself as belonging to me. I shall ar 
 range all with your master." 
 
 "T ank you, missis, and de Lawd pour down de blessing pon 
 you tell you beg him for stop, you own se f. God bress you, missis, 
 an a berry good mornin to you." 
 
 "Thank you, Tom. Good-by to ye." 
 
 And with a grasp of the hand of his late master, and a bow to his 
 new mistress, Tom disappeared, and proceeded to canter back to 
 Glen-Eberley. 
 
 Porgy had prepared and brought with him the necessary bill 
 of sale. He had signed it in the presence of Lance Frampton, 
 the night before. The widow asked if he did not desire any 
 written engagement from her, to resell the negro to him, accord 
 ing to their private understanding ; but, with his usual indiffer 
 ence to his own securities, the captain declined it. The lady gave 
 
408 WOODCltAiT. 
 
 him an order upon the city for a hundred guineas, and received, 
 and put away, the bill of sale. The wages of Tom while he re 
 mained in the service of his former owner were then easily 
 adjusted ; and the parties were still engaged in conversation, the 
 captain very low in spirits, and the lady, with a judicious delicacy, 
 striving to soothe and conciliate him, when Arthur Eveleigh bounced 
 into the room. 
 
 CHAPTER LV. 
 
 THE WIDOW AND HER SON. 
 
 A SINGLE glance at the young man sufficed to show that he 
 was greatly out of humor. He spoke with bare civility, and no 
 cordially, to his ancient friend, the captain. The widow regarded 
 her son with anxious and reproachful eyes, which he retorted 
 with such looks of evident suspicion and bad feeling as to con 
 found and disquiet her. Porgy saw that something was wrong, 
 but had no notion Jhat he was a party to the provocation. He 
 spoke to Arthur in the old language of familiarity and affection, 
 but without perceiving any very grateful effect from it. The young 
 man had came in with his fowling-piece and birdiug equipments, 
 which suggested to Porgy the proper subject for talking with 
 him. 
 
 " Why do you not look for your birds at Glen-Eberley, Arthur ? 
 It is a full month since you have paid me a visit. The partridges are 
 in abundance. You can scarcely walk anywhere without flushing 
 them." 
 
 " I need not go off the place here, sir, to seek for birds ; Avhen 
 I do, I find them in as much abundance, at Mr. M Kewn s, as I 
 desire." 
 
 "JVI Kewn!" said Porgy and was silent. 
 
 "I wish, my son," remarked the lady, "that you would seek 
 your birds in any other quarter." 
 
 "And I don t see why, mother. Mr. M Kewn is very civil to 
 me." 
 
THE WIDOW AND II KU SON. 4i)\} 
 
 There are some civilities which I am half inclined to regard as 
 injuries," said the lady, gravely; "but it should be enough for you, 
 my son, that I have expressed my wishes. My objections to this 
 man " 
 
 "Unless there be good reasons for them, mother 
 
 "Of the goodness of my reasons, my son, you should allow me 
 to be the judge, without requiring rnc to show what they are. 
 It ought to be sufficient for you that I have expressed my 
 wishes " 
 
 "Your wishes! Ah! but have you expressed tliern?" was the pert 
 response, and something of a sneer upon his lips. 
 
 " I do not understand you, Arthur. You certainly have heard 
 from me the repeated wish that you should have as little communion 
 with this man, as was not absolutely unavoidable." 
 
 "And I don t see why, mother. Mr. M Kewn seems quite as 
 much of the gentleman as most men I ve seen," replied the youth, 
 petulantly, and looking at Porgy. 
 
 "You have been unfortunate, my son; or, w r hich is more likely, 
 you are scarcely yet a sufficient judge of the subject, or a, sufficient 
 discriminator of persons." 
 
 "Perhaps not," said the fiery youth, his face reddening; "but, 
 mother " 
 
 Here he paused abruptly, and with evident effort restrained him 
 self. Porgy at this moment rose. His manner was mild, calm and 
 dignified; a little touched with sorrow. He felt that lie was in at the 
 beginning of something like a scene, and he had no taste for it, or 
 curiosity to witness its close. 
 
 "Mrs. Eveleigh, suffer me once more to thank you for your 
 kindness. I shall remember with gratitude what you have done 
 for me. I will trespass no longer. Good- by, ma am good- 
 by;" and he shook her hand warmly. "Arthur, I am half 
 tempted to regret that you can find your birds at any other point 
 than Glen-Eberley. We can afford you friend* there as well as 
 birds; and such friends as will never desert you when the battle s 
 coming on." 
 
 To this the youth had no answer. He gave his hand sullenly 
 to the captain, who looked at him kindly and curiously, but with 
 a smile that seemed to say, "I understand all your difficulty, my 
 boy," but, beyond his farewell, he had no more words to say. The 
 
 18 
 
410 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 widow would have persuaded him to stay to dinner, but, glancing 
 significantly from her to her son, he declined the invitation. He did 
 instinctively understand the case of Arthur Eveleigh. Riding out 
 of the avenue he muttered to himself: "The foolish boy! That 
 scoundrel, M Kewn, has been poisoning his ears. I should not be 
 surprised if the rascal had been telling him that I was courting his 
 mother." 
 
 He meditated sadly as he rode. "What a pitfall, what a thing 
 of snares, of serpents, and sorrows, is this miserable life. How 
 the devil hangs upon the footsteps of innocence, turn whither it will, 
 ready to delude, to defraud, to degrade, to destroy. Here is this 
 youth, just as he begins to drink of the better and purer sweets of 
 life, the fiend drops his malignant poison into the bowl, embittering 
 the taste as well as the draught and shaping the whole future 
 career for sin and sorrow. I had taken a great liking to that bo}>-. 
 He could have made a noble fellow. But, he looks upon me as an 
 enemy. He looks upon his own mother with suspicion. It has 
 needed but a mean cunning on the part of this miserable wretch, 
 M Kewn,. to make him turn upon his natural and best allies. 
 Heaven help us, for with the devil at our elbow, with foes among 
 those who surround us, and the vices and vanities at our own hearts 
 to second their labors, unless Heaven help us in season, and with 
 all its angels, hope and humanity stand but a poor chance for happi 
 ness." 
 
 The subject offered a fruitful matter for reflection after he got 
 home, which a draught of Jamaica with the sergeant, and a long dis 
 sertation from that person, cle omnibus rebus, etc., failed wholly to 
 arrest or dissipate. We must leave him to its indulgence while we 
 return to the widow s, curious to see that issue between herself and 
 son, which Porgy preferred to escape. She was not slow to approach 
 the subject. 
 
 "My son, you have behaved very strangely, very coldly, almost 
 rudely, to Captain Porgy. May I know what he has done to occasion 
 this treatment?" 
 
 "I don t see that he deserves any other," was the dogged reply. 
 
 "Indeed, Arthur, this is a very singular change of feeling and 
 opinion. A month or two ago, you were so perpetually over at Glen- 
 Eberley that I feared you might wear out the welcome you received- 
 now " 
 
THE WIDOW A^D HER tiON. 411 
 
 "I went then to hunt with Lieutenant Frainpton." 
 
 "But you also hunted with the captain, and your report was 
 always singularly favorable in respect to hint. You have evidently 
 nothing kind or cordial in your feelings toward him now; and, as I 
 trust you will never allow yourself to be guilty of any mean evasion 
 of the truth, I hope that you will frankly inform me as to what has 
 caused that change in your conduct, which is sufficiently apparent to 
 him as well as to me." 
 
 "But I want to know, mother, why it is that you are so anxious 
 that I should be on good terms with this Captain Porgy." 
 
 " I am anxious that you should be just and honorable, my son; not 
 mean, or captious; net capricious and unprincipled." 
 
 " I don t see how I should be either, only because I do not like 
 him." 
 
 "Unless you have a good reason to justify your dislike, you must 
 be all of these, Arthur. We owe Captain Porgy a great and vital 
 service " 
 
 "We owe just as much to Lieutenant Frampton, and the one- 
 fisted sergeant, mother." 
 
 "That may be, but that doesn t lessen our obligations to him." 
 
 " At least, they do not presume upon their services." 
 
 " I am yet to know that he does." 
 
 "What does he come here so frequently for, then? " 
 
 " I suppose he finds some pleasure in doing so." 
 
 " Ah! and you find pleasure in it, too, mother? " 
 
 There was was an increasing color in the widow s cheeks, as she 
 met the gaze and heard the significant inquiry of the forward boy, 
 but she answered him very quietly 
 
 "Certainly; I find Captain Porgy a very pleasant associate. 
 I know few gentlemen whose conversation is so sensible and 
 interesting." 
 
 "Gentleman! he looks very much like a gentleman with that 
 great paunch of his, large as a rice-barrel." 
 
 "Stop, Arthur; I must not suffer this sort of language in my 
 hearing. You forget yourself, my son; you forget what is due 
 to me, and to this worthy but unfortunate man. I shall say no 
 more of what we owe him for saving your mother from indignity, 
 and possibly from death, since you do not seem sufficiently to 
 comprehend the extent or value of this service It is enough. 
 
4lxJ WOODCKAFT. 
 
 that I require you to forbear such rude language of one whom I am 
 pleased to honor as my friend and neighbor." 
 
 " Is he going to be content, mother, with being friend and neigh 
 bor? Does he aim at nothing farther? Is he not borrowing all your 
 money to pay for his extravagances? Is he not " 
 
 "Stop, once more, my son! Am I to understand, Arthur, that 
 you suppose yourself likely to lose the money which I lend to 
 Captain Porgy?" 
 
 "I don t see what else will follow", living as he does, and having 
 to pay off. his old debts." 
 
 You have been listening to an enemy, Arthur. But let me 
 disabuse you. It is not possible that you or I shall lose anything 
 by the loans made to Captain Porgy. These are all sufficiently 
 secured by mortgage; the papers drawn up by Colonel Pinckney, 
 who assures me that the debt is perfectly secure. We get legal 
 interest on the money, and, so far, Captain Porgy, is, perhaps, less 
 under obligations to me than I am to him. If your cause of disquiet 
 contemplates nothing beyond this, you may reasonably dismiss it 
 from your mind; but there is something farther, Arthur. The evil 
 spirit w T ho has found his w r ay to your ear, has never been content 
 with so meagre a scheme of doing mischief. Let me hear all that 
 disturbs you, my son; keep nothing back; I would rather you should 
 pain me directly to the core, than leave me to apprehend that you 
 entertain thoughts and feelings in secret, which you dare not unfold 
 to your mother." 
 
 The youth seemed for a moment uneasy. He strode hurriedly off 
 to a window, and seemed to look out. The widow calmly 
 awaited him, without seeming to observe his motions. After a 
 pause, he wheeled about suddenly, approached her, and as if he 
 had brought himself to the proper point of determination, he 
 said : 
 
 " I ask you, mother, if you think that Captain Porgy comes here 
 only when he wants company or money? I want you to tell me if 
 you think he has not some other purpose? Speak candidly, mother, 
 as you ought to speak to me, and as I have a right to expect that you 
 will speak." 
 
 The mother almost sternly surveyed the youth; then, with rigid 
 lips, she answered 
 
 "We may think differently, Arthur, about our mutual rights 
 
THE WIDOW AKD HER SOtf. 413 
 
 I certainly ought not to be required to account for the secret mo 
 tives of action of Captain Porgy or of any other man. Your chal 
 lenge of my candor, unless you have some imputation upon it, is 
 only a gratuitous offence, my son. At your age and mine, there 
 may be cases when it would not be proper to unfold to you all 
 my thoughts or opinions. Where these contemplate the character 
 or motives of other persons, I should be wrong in doing so. If 
 you have any particular question to put to me, Arthur Eveleigh, 
 which would seem to be the case from what j r ou do say, let me hear 
 it, and if it is proper for me to answer, and if my son has a right to 
 make the question, let him be assured that I shall answer with the 
 utmost readiness." 
 
 The youth hastily strode the chamber. He was evidently re 
 luctant, half-ashamed, to betray the lurking suspicions in his mind. 
 But, at length, as if vexed at his own weakness, he paused, stood 
 erect, and pointing to a splendid, full length of Major Eveleigh, 
 which hung against the wall a noble figure, in the prime of man 
 hood, and garbed in the rich military costume of Britain, he cried 
 out with a burst of passion 
 
 "That is my father, mother, as he looked, as he lived. Can it be 
 possible that you mean to fill his place with such a person as this 
 Captain Porgy?" 
 
 And the boy looked noble, erect, manly, almost magnificent, 
 like his father, as he uttered the passionate inquiry. Had there 
 been sufficient cause for his question, had the widow shown herself 
 weak, frivolous, wanton, easily accessible, and inclining to fling 
 herself away upon a worthless person there would have been 
 something very admirable in his bearing and position. The mother 
 looked at him a moment, her face pale with, indignation, and the 
 tears gushed, all at once, in a flood from her eyes. Through them 
 she spoke, with impeutous anger. 
 
 " Arthur Eveleigh, you have been listening to that devil of 
 mischief, M Kewn. You have suffered this vile Scotchman to fill 
 your ears with venomous discourse. You have meanly permitted 
 him to whisper to you a scandal of your own mother. You have 
 basely suffered him to fill your heart with evil thoughts of one to 
 whom your mother owes her life and honor. And you have suffered 
 this wittingly. You were warned against this evil-minded wretch. 
 You were taught to regard him as an object of suspicion and dislike. 
 
414 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 You have preferred his counsels to those of your mother to those 
 of your friend. You have been used by him as a despicable tool 
 against friend and mother. Leave me for the present, Arthur Eve- 
 leigh. I can neither speak to you, nor look on you, with a proper 
 calm of temper. Leave me." 
 
 "But mother 
 
 The young man was aghast. He had never seen his mother so 
 fearfully aroused had never so aroused her himself, and now 
 began to feel that he had unwisely and unbecomingly trespassed. 
 
 "Yet stay," she said, "and hear farther, Arthur Eveleigh. 
 While I acknowledge my responsibilities to you, as your mother, 
 and the representative of your father, I still hold an independent 
 relation to you in all matters which concern myself. On these, 
 I will submit to no dictation. I shall be the mistress of my own 
 thoughts, feelings, and sympathies, as far as it lies in my power 
 to be so. I shall account to you in no respect, unless I am pleased 
 and prefer to do so. While I shall never feel the relations be 
 tween your late father and myself to be other than sacred and 
 very precious, if it should seem to me wise, and right, and grate 
 ful to take another husband, it shall be my own will that I shall 
 consult in the matter. It may be that your own conduct shall 
 compel me to this, where I would not choose. I must have affec 
 tions and sympathies I must have devotion and society I 
 must love, Arthur, and must be beloved at all events, I must 
 be confided in. If my own son abandons me for the stranger 
 if he prefers the counsel of the serpent against which I have warned 
 him, and offends me with the rude insolence of his suspicions, I 
 must seek succor elsewhere. You have heard me. It is for you to 
 determine. Go now; yet hear me : go not to this man M Kewn. I 
 tell you, Arthur Eveleigh, that you must make your choice between 
 this evil genius and your mother. I must cease to trust you, if I 
 find you put any trust in him." 
 
 "Mother, dear mother!" 
 
 He rushed, with a cry, and threw his arms around her. 
 
 "Forgive me, dear mother, forgive me! " 
 
 He clung to her, sobbing his regrets and repentence aloud. She 
 folded him fondly to her arms. 
 
 "Oh! Arthur, you know not how rude a blow you have struck 
 my heart." 
 
THE SHERIFF IN LIMBO. -JIT) 
 
 Just then, the little Dory came in, and with looks of equal ter 
 ror and sympathy, darted to them both. The widow laid one 
 hand upon the head of the child, kissed her son, and freeing her 
 self from his grasp, hurried out of the chamber. 
 
 "Oh! Arthur, what is the matter?" 
 
 "Only I have been very foolish, Dory, and have made my 
 mother vexed. 
 
 " But you are sorry, Arthur? " 
 
 "Very sorry, very." 
 
 " Then God will forgive you, Arthur." 
 
 "Ah! if I could only forgive myself, Dory." 
 
 " But you will, Arthur, for my sake." 
 
 "For your sake, Dory? well, for your sake, I will try, but 
 I have been very, very foolish. I have made my mother very 
 angry." 
 
 " She will forgive you, Arthur. Go to her now, and beg her." 
 
 "Not now." 
 
 " Oh ! yes, now ! I want her to forgive you before I go. I 
 am going home this evening, you know. Mother wants me." 
 
 "What can she want you for. You are better here, Dory. 
 I can t do without you, you know. You must stay with me." 
 
 " No, Arthur; I must go and work for mother." 
 
 "Work! Well, I will go home with you and help you. I d 
 rather go away for a week, Dory ; I m so ashamed to meet my 
 mother!" 
 
 CHAPTER LVI. 
 
 THE SHERIFF IN LIMBO. 
 
 EVENTS continued to ripen fast. Porgy s visage grew gloomier 
 with their progress, and a stern expression settled upon his fea 
 tures. He smoked and drank more freely than ever. His con 
 versation grew more and more brief daily. He heard the ser 
 geant without heed, and seldom responded, except by a brief sar 
 casm, to his prolix exhortations. He was apprised from the city 
 that his danger could not be any longer averted ; that there was 
 
416 WOO IK RAIT. 
 
 no longer any .barrier between him and the sheriff. Col. Pinckney 
 wrote him an affectionate letter, full of sympathy, but cutting hi m 
 off from all farther hope of escape. Pinckney did not stop at 
 this. He sought the sheriff, who was a well-known army man. 
 of good nature, something of a humorist, indeed, and with quite 
 a friendly regard for Porgy, whom he had met more than once? 
 during the war, and whom he very well knew. The object of 
 Pinckney now was to persuade the sheriff to as much indulgence 
 as possible. To " do his spiriting gently." To this the latter 
 was naturally inclined. But, on the other hand, there was the 
 impatient creditor, M Kewn, urging the rapid execution of the 
 proceedings. The law ! The law ! He claimed the benefit of 
 the law in ifs utmost rigor, and waited, with intense appetite for 
 the news of the execution of his processes, the sale of the lands 
 of Porgy, and the seizure of the negroes. Pinckney wrote the 
 captain all these particulars. He had tried the inflexible creditor 
 in vain. He was resolved on his pound of flesh, and as much 
 blood as he could draw along with it. 
 
 Porgy read the letter to Millhouse. The latter, by a private 
 despatch, summoned Lance Framptou to the council. He came 
 over to Glen-Eberley armed to the teeth, with rifle on his shoul 
 der, saber at his side, pistols in holster, just as he had gone 
 through the wars. The requisitions of the sergeant had been to 
 this effect. He had expressly enjoined the lieutenant to come 
 in war-fashion. He met him at the entrance, armed in like 
 manner, though not on horseback; and with an ominous shaking 
 of the head and the hand, in answer to Frainpton s inquiries, he 
 said 
 
 "The inimy is in motion, lieutenant; we ve got to stand an 
 assault, maybe a siege, and I know d you warn t aguine to stand 
 by and see the captain bombarded and invaded, without being 
 ready to jine at the first sound of the trumpet. You ll see the 
 cappin s mightily changed in the last week. He s more down in 
 the mouth than I ewr seed him. He kain t talk, and when a 
 man kain t talk, that s been so used to it, it s about the worst 
 sign in his sarcumstances. But, don t you say nothing of what 
 you sees. Jest you listen to me, and when I pushes on one p int. 
 be ready to follow up the push. We must purtect the property 
 from the inimy. Ef they gits the place, thar s not much use for 
 
THK SITKKIFF IN" LIMBO. 417 
 
 the niggers, and ef ihey gits the niggers, thar s not much use for 
 the place. The two stands together pretty much like gun and 
 gunpowder. What s the use of the gunpowder if thar s no gun, 
 and what s the use of the gun if thar s no powder ? You sees ! 
 Now, we must purtect the niggers and plantation against siege 
 and storm. That s the first needcessity ; the next is to open the 
 cappin s eyes to the needcessity of marrying the widow. His 
 sarcumstauces ain t to be put off any longer. We must, both on 
 us, argufy him into the sense of this needcessity." 
 
 Having, as he thought, sufficiently given the lieutenant his 
 cue, the latter was allowed to enter the dwelling, and to sec his 
 old commander. He found Porgy sombre enough, but glad to 
 see him. He put on a cheerful countenance when he beheld the 
 youth, gave him his hand, and, for a little while, seemed to re 
 cover his spirits. But Frampton remarked that, though the enter- 
 ed the room, armed cap-a-pie, the captain never seemed to ob 
 serve it ; and that, even while he spoke to him of familiar things, 
 and with a smile upon his face, his mind yet seemed to wander. 
 After a while, he lap.sed into moody silence, never once taking 
 the pipe from his mouth in the course of half an hour, even though 
 its fires had gone out. The lieutenant took his place in the 
 household quietly, as if he had never left it, He had his bed 
 there that night. After supper, Tom being warned to be in 
 attendance as an auxiliary, the sergeant opened by degrees upon 
 the subject of embarrassment before them. 
 
 "Ef you has no dejection, cappin, I wish you d read to the 
 lieutenant that ere letter of Col. Piuckney," 
 
 "Oh! to be sure. You ve not heard, Lance, that the Philis 
 tines are about to descend upon us. Writs are out, and execu 
 tions, levies, and arrests, Ca Sa s and Fi Fa s and I suppose ne 
 exeats, and whatever other diabolical inventions of the law can 
 be brought to bear upon a man whom the devil has determined 
 to destroy. I told you of my fears before we got home. I was 
 then better prepared . for the disaster than I am now. The re 
 spite I have had, the restoration of my negroes, and the help in 
 money afforded me by Mrs. Eveleigh, have helped to spo^ me 
 for vicissitudes ; and, in getting a new taste of my old mode of 
 life, I am much more reluctant than ever to give it up. But the 
 thing seems inevitable now. This letter of Colonel Pinckney 
 
 18* 
 
418 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 which I will read to you, will show you how the land lies, and 
 Irom what quarter, and in what force, the enemy will probably make 
 his approaches." 
 
 And he read the letter. 
 
 "The case, you see, is hopeless. The wolves will have their 
 victim. Nothing can be done." 
 
 " Well, cappin, I doesn t edzactly see that, Here s Lance, 
 and me both, and Tom, all ready to have a fight on it. and beat 
 off the inimy, ef they don t come on us too many at once. We three, 
 and you, cappin 
 
 "Pooh, pooh, sergeant! That s all nonsense. There s no 
 fighting to be done in the matter, and no flying, that I can see. 
 All that is left to me now, or is likely to be left to me, is my 
 philosophy, and that of my little Frenchman. I am trying to 
 school myself to the trial with the best grace in the world, though 
 by the powers, if a good fight would help the matter, I d be 
 pretty quick to man the fortress; but that s out of the question. 
 The notion of the sergeant is sirnpty absurd. The case, look which 
 ever way you please, is absolutely hopeless." 
 
 "You re clean wrong; jest bekaise you refuses to look the 
 right way. Now, I ve been seeing a mighty long while past, 
 that thar was a way of saving all, and blocking the game on the 
 inimy, and that, you see, was jes by coming down upon the widow 
 Eb leigh, and storming her premises. I show d you, long ago, how 
 a widow was a sort of post which had been afore taken by the 
 inimy, and so was to be taken agi n ; and where the storming was 
 conducted by a good off cer, from the line of the army, that the tbing 
 mout be done easily. This widow Eb leigh, now 
 
 "Hush up, Millhouse. No more of that. It must not be 
 thought of. How will it look for me I who have been borrowing 
 the widow s money to propose to pay my debts to her, by making 
 her my wife?" 
 
 "And the most ixcellentest way for settling a debt that ever was 
 invented on this airth." 
 
 " Why, man, I ve gone to her as a beggar. I owe her six 
 hundred guineas. Shall I go to her and offer her payment in a 
 
 bankrupt husband ?" 
 
 "But ef she likes you, cappin, won t she jump at it ?" 
 "Ah! but that is all very doubtful." 
 
THE SHERIFF IX LIMBO. 419 
 
 "A man what s doubtful, T may say, is a most d <1 a rcadv, 
 Thar must not be no doubt when you re a-guine to storm a fortress. 
 Now, I see that this here widow is a most ready to surrender at the 
 first blow of the bugle. I knows it cappin ; I sees it in everything 
 she does for you, and in every look she gives you ; and the best 
 thing you can do is jest to make a trial of the sarcuinstances of 
 the case." 
 
 Porgy shook his head. 
 
 "Now, don t you be a-shaking of your head as ef thar was 
 nothing in it. But jest you hear what I m guine to ax you. 
 S posc, now. the thing is jest as I m a-saying it. S pose she s ready 
 to give in the moment you are ready to make the attack ? Won t 
 you be a most bloody fool pardon me, cappin ; I doesn t mean to 
 be onrcspectful but I ax, won t you be a bloody fool, not to give 
 her a chaince to surrender handsome, and save her fcelin s, and save 
 this line property, and save your niggers, only bekaise you are so 
 KDealy-mouthed. Won t you feel most mean and vicious and 
 onhappy, ef so be you keeps hanging off, and she has to come and 
 pop the question to you ? I declar , cappin, it seems a most pitiful 
 and cruel thing for you not to help out a leetle, by jest axing her in 
 time to save her feelin s." 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! ha ! Delightful ! Ton my soul, Millhouse, you put 
 the ease in quite a new and striking point of view. You think I 
 should speak in time to prevent the widow from addressing me, and 
 so spare her blushes." 
 
 "In course, I does! That s jest the thing spar her blush^ 
 es !" 
 
 "But, suppose she were to propose to me, and I were to refuse 
 her ? " 
 
 "Lord love you cappin, and be merciful to your onderstanding ; 
 but you wouldn t be so unkind and outright redickilous, as to do 
 that and after all that s she s been a-doing for you." 
 
 "It would be rather hard-hearted, I confess." 
 
 " Twould be most monstrous redickilous ! But, cappin, you 
 musn t wail for her to do the axing. It mout be she d come arter 
 a while, and when she couldn t stau keepin in her feelin s any 
 longer; but then it mout be it would be too late, then to help 
 your sarcuinstances. Ef the property was to be sold by the sheriff, 
 what would it brinu , I want to know, now, when thar s so little 
 
420 WOODCItAFT. 
 
 money guine about. Not enough by half, to pay this warmint, 
 M Kewn. But, cf twas only on account of the lady, it s your 
 business to speak quick. The man lias no right to keep the poor 
 woman a-waiting on him. He has no right to keep a-thinking, with 
 pipe in his mouth, while she s a weeping and pining away a-most to 
 nothin ." 
 
 "But I don t see that Mrs. Eveleigh shows any such signs of 
 suffering, Mill house." 
 
 "It s all innard, cappin. She s got too proud a stomach, to 
 show outside, in her flesh and spirrits, how much she suffers in 
 nard ly. Many s the woman that s looked fat and hearty, while her 
 heart s been a-breakin in her buz/uni. I don t mean to say that the 
 widow Eb leigh is so far gone, cappin, kaisc, you see -she s had 
 ixper ence in heart affairs, being a widow ; but she s got her, 
 feclin s and sufferin s, cappin, in the heart, that keeps it sore and 
 blecdin all over, though it s too strong to break. She oughtn t to 
 hev any sufferin s and bleediu s at all, ef so be 3 r ou kin help her ; 
 and I say, and I m sure on it, that you kin help her, jes by the 
 same thing that helps you self. I ll leave it to the lieutenant 
 here, and to Tom, ef they don t agree with me, that the widow 
 Eb leigh has a nateral right to marry you, considerin your sareum- 
 stances. " 
 
 Tom nodded his head affirmatively. 
 
 "You hab for marry em, maussa. He bin too much good to 
 you, maussa. You can t scuse em you can t fuse [refuse] 
 em. You hab for do it ; den we all free b long to one anudder, 
 maussa." 
 
 Frampton was of opinion that the proceeding would certainly 
 relieve the captain of all his present difficulties, and was for this 
 reason quite advisable. 
 
 "That s it, cappin! considerin the sarcumstances ! It s the 
 sarcunistances you ve got to consider ; and I say it again, considerin 
 them, and the sarcumstanees of the wido\v, she s got a nateral right 
 to marry you." 
 
 " but have I any natural right to marry her ? " 
 
 In course ! Ef she s got a right to you, there s no help for it, 
 and you must jine your right to her n. You ve got no right 
 to refuse to hev her, seein it s her needcessity to hev you; and 
 the true way for an honest man, and a gentleman, and a good 
 
THE SHERIFF IN LIMBO. 421 
 
 sodger, is to put it to her manful, at once, and not keep her a- 
 waiting, and a longing and a sorrowin , till the poor woman gets sick 
 from her needcessity." 
 
 " Really, Millhouse, you make a new case of it. You are making 
 it clearly a duty and a charity that I should marry a lady of fortune, 
 and so save myself from the sheriff." 
 
 "That s the how ! That s the very thing." 
 
 "Now, Millhouse, if I could only he sure that the excellent lady 
 whom you so freely discuss, labored under any such feelings as you 
 describe 
 
 "Aix Lance aix Tom !" responded the sergeant, appealing to 
 each of them in turn 
 
 Lance certainly had seen the very favorable glances, which the 
 widow had cast upon the captain. 
 
 " Sheep s eyes, they calls em, cappin," quoth the sergeant. 
 
 Tom gave his opinion with solemnity and confidence. 
 
 "Miss Eb leigh hab eyes, enty, for see, maussa ? Well, who dat 
 say maussa ain t man nough for please any woman ? Da s it ! I see 
 J ern how he look at maussa. He fire up, he mouth tan open and 
 sweet, ant when he talk to em, it s jest like any bud [bird] dah sing 
 to nudder but, and axing em wha for we kaiu t bmT nest togedder 
 dis spring ? " 
 
 "Well, "said the more liberal sergeant, " twould be all mighty 
 great nonsence to talk of building nests in spring, when here we are 
 jest on the edge, as I may say, of winter. But what Tom says 
 w r ould be quite right, ef he d make the nest buildin together about 
 Christmas. I like a marriage, Christmas time, better than any other; 
 and ef the cappin does the right thing, like a man, we ll have a 
 raal blow-out this coming Christmas. You ve hearn, cappin. Me, 
 and the lieutenant, and Tom, all agrees that the widow looks 
 on you with mighty sweet eyes ; and I say she s got a nateral 
 right to you, and you ve got a nateral right to her ; and you mut 
 jiiie your rights, and give us a blow out this Christinas and ef 
 the sheriff, or M Kewn, or any other warmint, comes sharking about 
 these primises, I ve got a nateral right to give him a h 11 of a 
 licking, and I ll hev my rights, by blazes, whenever I gits a 
 chaince ! " 
 
 We are not prepared to to say that the captain was convinced by 
 his argument, which was continued for some time after this, and 
 
422 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 was wound up by a stoup of Jamaica, when the parties all retired for 
 the night. Millhouse congratulated himsolf and companions that a 
 favorable impression had been made, but Frampton was doubtful. 
 His sympathies had taught him better how to see into the captain s 
 heart and to comprehend his mysteries. The sergeant judged only 
 of what should be the effect of arguments, and an eloquence so potent 
 as his own. 
 
 The next morning, at sunrise, found the two subordinates 
 astir. Frampton and Millhouse went forth together in consulta 
 tion, the latter looking exceedingly ominous, like some great 
 bull-dog on duty, and having a keen scent in his nostrils of some 
 intruder. At breakfast, the subject of the last night was resumed, 
 by the sergeant, but the captain made no response. He ex 
 pressed no surprise to see Frampton linger away from his young 
 wife. The lieutenant said nothing of the object of his visit, or 
 of the summons which induced it, but quietly assumed the air 
 and attitude of one on duty. The good youth, accustomed to 
 military authority, and trained up in great measure by Porgy, 
 was prepared to obey at every peril. Of law, he had only vague 
 notions. So far as his experience went, civil authority had been 
 only a name a venerable thing, perhaps but which men every 
 where plucked by the beard, without fear, and with impunity. 
 He had yet to learn that it could prove more potent now than 
 during the seven years previous, when each man did the thing 
 that was best in his own sight, and when there were no judges 
 in the land, however numerous might be the executioners. He 
 hud come to stand up beside, and for, his feudal lord such was 
 really the sort of relation between the parties and to break 
 spear for him, and peril life, against all comers. It is possible 
 that Porgy understood the purport of his visit, but he forebore 
 all remark upon it. The youth was simply welcomed, as of old ; 
 and, as of old, he went at once on duty. The sergeant soon 
 showed him that the duty was to be a vigilant one, and was quite 
 necessary. The two mounted guard alternately. Certain favor 
 ite negroes were selected as scouts and videttes, who watched 
 all the approaches to the plantation. One was chosen to ascend 
 through the scuttle to the housetop, and keep his eyes at once 
 on every point of the compass. And thus matters stood, without 
 
THE SHERIFF I \ LI M 150. 423 
 
 any event to excite alarm, until the third day after Frampton s 
 arrival 
 
 On this day, some little after noon, and just when Porgy \\as 
 beginning to ^Jiink of dinner, the scouts came in bringing inielli- 
 geuce of the approach, in the direction of Glen-Kherley, of a 
 very stylish looking gentleman, in black habit, driving the 
 vehicle, then in fashionable use for one or two persons, called the 
 "chaise," a heavy lumbering sort of gig, with a capacious top to 
 it. This mis the sheriff, the well-known, amiable, graceful and 
 
 accomplished Colonel , whose solicitude to do an unpleasant 
 
 duty pleasantly, had prompted him to undertake a task which is 
 now-a-days commonly confided to a deputy. At the gate of the 
 avenue of Glen-Eberley, the sheriff found himself suddenly ar 
 rested by a person in military habit. Before he knew where he 
 was, a huge horseman s pistol was clapped to his head, and he 
 was required to give an account of himself. The sheriff was 
 confounded. 
 
 " Why, young man," said he, " what does all this mean ? Why 
 are you armed to the teeth, and why am I arrested with violence 
 on the peaceful highway ? Who are you, and what do you take 
 me for?" 
 
 " For a person that s after no good, stranger! " was the answer of 
 Lance Frampton. " We hear that there s some enemies of Captain 
 Porgy after him, who want to seize him and his negroes, and we are 
 jest here to see that they do no such thing ! " 
 
 " Why, who is there to take his property? " 
 
 Who ! I don t know ; but they are enemies, and varmints, sher 
 iffs, and such like tory people !" 
 
 Framptou s mode of cataloguing showed considerable inexper 
 ience, by which the sheriff was amused rather than annoyed, 
 
 "You do not mean to say, my friend, that you would resist a 
 sheriff in the execution of his lawful duties ? " 
 
 " Let him only try it here," was thcfcindignant answer. 
 
 "Well, my good friend, my business here is to see Captain 
 Porgy." 
 
 " But you are not the sheriff? " 
 
 " Sheriff, indeed ! I m Col.- , formerly of the army. I 
 know Captain Porgy well. He ll be glad to see rue, I ve uo 
 doubt." 
 
424 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 "And you re not one of the sheriff s fellows, then ? " demanded 
 Frampton, doubtfully. 
 
 " Do I look like any one s fellow? " asked the sheriff, laughing. 
 
 " I don t know! I m on duty here to see that no sheriff, or any 
 of his fellows, get into the place ; and I m bound to examine closely. 
 But I ll take you in, where you can see another person that s on 
 duty, and that knows better what s to be done than I do. Get out, 
 boy" r to the sheriff s driver "get up behind." 
 
 In a moment Framption had changed places with the negro. This 
 done, he took the reins, saying as he drove 
 
 " If you were to drive up this avenue, stranger, except under my 
 charge, you d be most like to have a bullet through your jacket." 
 
 The devil ! You have then converted Glen-Eberley into a forti 
 fied place?" 
 
 Yes, indeed ! And we can make a pretty stiff fight against a 
 good troop of sheriffs," 
 
 "Humph! The captain s at home, I suppose? " 
 
 " Yes, indeed! But it s a chance you w r on t get a sight of him. 
 It all depends upon Sergeant Millhouse. He s the officer on duty. 
 You must make it all clear to him, that you don t come for any evil, 
 before he ll let you light." 
 
 "Indeed!" and, with his secret meditations, the sheriff smiled 
 pleasantly enough; but his smiles were arrested as suddenly as he 
 himself had been before, as, almost in the middle of the avenue, 
 Frampton drew up the horses. 
 
 " Here s the sergeant!" said he. 
 
 The sheriff, at the same moment, saw approaching, from the head 
 of the horses, a stalwart figure, \vith pistols in belt, and sabre \vaving 
 in his left hand. A cap made of the skins of a pair of gray- squirrels, . 
 with the tails flapping on both sides, covering his head. His 
 uniform was of strange military mixture, altogether indescribable, 
 but propriety requires that we should describe it as a uniform. His 
 eye was fiercely suspicious, and his mouth was compressed with most 
 rigid determination. 
 
 " Who s he? " was the stern demand of the sergeant as the vehicle 
 was stopped, and he presented himself, waving his sabre, in front of 
 the visitor. 
 
 "He calls himself Col. , of the army ; says he s not the 
 
 sheriff, or any of his fellows, and wants to see the captain." 
 
THE SHERIFF IX LIMBO. 425 
 
 The sergeant glared at him with eyes of -piercing inquiry; and, 
 after a moment s pause, said 
 
 "Take off your hat, stranger, that I may see what sort of a 
 head you ve got of your own!" 
 
 The sheriff, smilingly civil, complied with the requisition. 
 
 "He looks oiiharmful enough, Lanco, but there s no knowing. 
 
 I never haird of any Colonel in the army ; I ve hea r n of a 
 
 cappin with some sich name, but I never haird that he did anything 
 much. He warn t no great shakes. You say, stranger, that our 
 cappin knows you ? " 
 
 "Yes," said the sheriff, meekly, beginning to feel somewhat 
 dubious of his securities. 
 
 "Well, hev you any way to let him hear from you, by any 
 writing or letter. For, as for seeing him afore he hears all about 
 you, that s onpossiblc ! " 
 
 The sheriff produced a pencil, tore off a bit of paper from a letter, 
 wrote his name upon it, and offered it to the sergeant. 
 
 " Stick it on the eend of my sabre," said the wary soldier, not 
 knowing how such a talisman, taken into his hands, might compro 
 mise his relations with the captain or the eneiity. 
 
 "Now, Lance, git out, and take out the horse; then you carry 
 this paper, jest as it stands, to the cappin ; I ll keep guard on this 
 pusson, in the meantime, when you re gone." 
 
 A few moments sufficed for this performance, and Frampton set 
 off, bearing the missive at the point of the sword, and leaving Mill- 
 house, pistol in hand, confronting the visitor. The latter made a 
 movement as if to get out ; but the sergeant, with a horrid voice of 
 war, cried out 
 
 " Don t you stir a peg, onless you wants me to blow a winder 
 through your buzzum ! Jes keep quiet whar you air, ef you wants 
 an easy time of it ! , 
 
 And he followed up the terrible threat by a wilful obtrusion of 
 the huge pistol, jaws wide open, full into the gaping jaws of 
 the doubtful visitor. The sheriff recoiled, as well he might. He 
 was half afraid now to more a limb, although, just then, it 
 occurred to him that the ends of certain legal documents, of con 
 siderable size, were peering too conspicuously from a breast 
 pocket ; and he feared, if remarked, it would scarcely be possible 
 .for him to escape the imputation of being the much-hated officer 
 
426 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 for the hostile reception of whom these men were in arms. lie 
 finally attempted the thing once, but, as he lifted his hand to his 
 bosom, Millhouse mistook it for an attempt to get at his weap 
 ons, and he instantly applied his own. Again was the huge 
 muzzle of the pistol clapped to the sheriff s head with an awful 
 injunction 
 
 "Ef you lifts a hand, or stirs a peg, stranger, you swallows a 
 bullet that no white man can chaw. I ve been in the army too 
 long, my friend, to let the inimy git his hand fairly into his 
 buzzum. Jest you try it ef you wants to see ho\v I manages in 
 sich a case. Jest you try it, ef you d see blazes to shet up both your 
 eyes." 
 
 The sheriff resigned himself submissively to the necessity. The 
 sergeant, clearly, was not a sentinel to be trilled with ; and the 
 prisoner, beginning honestly to wish himself well out of the present 
 predicament, was now afraid to relax the stiffened limb, to ease out 
 leg or arm, knee or elbow, lest he should incur the sudden penalty 
 of blow or bullet. He remained thus in a most uneasy state of rest, 
 which was anything but repose, waiting, with anxiety, for the return 
 of the more civil of his two captors. 
 
 CHAPTER LVII. 
 
 COUP DE THEATRE. 
 
 WHEX Lance Frampton entered the house with the paper of the 
 sheriff, addressed to Porgy, and which contained only the name 
 of the former, the captain of partisans was preparing himself for 
 dinner, which Tom, the cook, was himself about to place upon the 
 table. 
 
 " Where s Pomp, Tom ? " demanded the captain. 
 
 "Pomp dcy somewhere; dey tak care ob hese f, I speck," 
 replied Tom, with a significant jerk of the head. 
 
 "Somewhere! Taking care of himself! Why, what the 
 d 1 is he after, and w r hy don t you call him in to his duty ? 
 You should see, Tom, that the scjunp dous not skulk to fre- 
 
COUP 1)E TIIKATKE. 4.^1 
 
 queutly. He has too much taste for it, as is, perhaps, the ease with 
 all fiddlers. Halloo for the scamp, and see that he is at his post. Take 
 care of himself, indeed! I ll sec that he takes care of me." 
 
 "He no guine yer holler dis time, maussa!" :uiswered Tom. 
 "Nebber you min , maussa; he will come jis when we wants em; 
 only jis now, he sca ce [scarce]!" 
 
 " But we want him now ! " 
 
 "Can t come, now, maussa! Pomp in de swamp, safe shet up. 
 Nobody for sh um [see him]!-" 
 
 " In the swamp! AVhat the d 1 is he after in the swamp? " 
 
 But the farther dialogue was arrested by the appearance of 
 Frarnpton, very much to Tom s relief, since he could not much longer 
 have evaded the direct demands of his master, while Millhouse had 
 enjoined upon him silence. To let the reader into a secret, all the 
 negroes had taken to the swamp, except Tom, from the moment when 
 the sheriff s chaise had been arrested at the entrance of the avenue! 
 
 " AVell, Lance; in armor still? What s the matter? " 
 
 "We ve captured a man here, captain, who calls himself Col. 
 , and says you know him. He sends you this." 
 
 Porgy read the slip. 
 
 Col. ; and you ve captured him, you say? How? 
 
 Why? " 
 
 Frampton told his story briefly. 
 
 "Why, you see, we re on duty; and we thought he was the 
 sheriff, and so we took him into captivity. The sergeant s standing 
 guard over him, while I brought you the paper." 
 
 " Captured him! And where is he?" 
 
 " In the avenue. You can see him through the window, where 
 the sergeant has him under guard." 
 
 Porgy looked out and burst into an uncontrollable fit of 
 laughter. 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha! Good, i faith! excellent! The captor in captivity! 
 Ha! ha! ha! Well, this is promising! The game begins well. We 
 shall have a laugh on our side, at least, whether \vc lose or not in the 
 long run. Ha! ha! ha!" 
 
 The captain made the lieutenant repeat the details the dia 
 logue every particular; and the merriment of the captain was 
 
42^ WOODCRAFT. 
 
 ;<;m>\vf.!. The whole thing struck him amusingly. It appealed 
 to his leading passion for practical jokes. He determined to hu 
 mor it to the end. 
 
 " So, you thought Col. the sheriff .did you? Ha! h ! 
 
 !;<: ! admirable ! What a story to tell! But, I will go out to 
 him. T must only put a few extra dishes on the table. Here, 
 Tom ! And now, Lance, stop out to the sergeant; tell him to 
 watch his prisoner closelj 7 . I will come out and see if lie is 
 really the colonel, whom I know very well! We must not be 
 imposed upon, Lance! By no means! Ha! ha ha! Tho 
 captor in captivity ! Very good, by Mercury, very good I" 
 
 Lance Frampton disappeared ; perfectly satisfied that the cap 
 <ain approved of all his proceedings ; a matter of which he had 
 not been quite sure previously. When he was gone, Porgy, with 
 Tom s assistance, proceeded to put himself in caparison of war. 
 His uniform was hastily hustled on, his belt girded about his 
 \vaist, sword slung at his side, pistols stuck in his belt, and in his 
 nand he carried a long rifle. This done, he proceeded to arrange 
 certain mysteriously-covered dishes upon the table. Tom was 
 also made to equip himself in armor that is, with a light toma 
 hawk over his shoulder, a huge coutcau dc rJtasse in one side of 
 his belt, and a great horseman s pistol in the other. Porgy gave 
 him some final directions, a*id then sallied forth to examine the 
 prisoner. 
 
 Before he appeared, the sheriff had begun to meditate the 
 propriety of declaring his indignation, in very strong language, 
 at the treatment he received ; but, at the approach of Porgy, 
 looking swords, bayonets, and blunderbusses, his purpose chang 
 ed. Was the captain craxy 1 Could he really mean to defy 
 the laws ? The colonel began to have his doubts. He had heard 
 of the mad freaks of which Poagy had been occasionally guilty; 
 lie had heard that he was very tree in his potations; he saw 
 nothing but savage defiance in the features cf Millhouse, an< : 
 nothing but sober soldier resolution, and dogged adherence t< 
 authority, in the aspect of Frampton. The gown began to 
 tremble in the presence of the sword. I must temporize !" was 
 the unspoken decision of the sheriff, " I must see how the land 
 lies first ! Who knows what desperate actions these mad fellow* 
 may not commit." 
 
D.-, THEATRE. 4~ J 
 
 Porgy came 0:1 slowly, as became liis size ai.d state. As ha 
 approached, the sheriff made a movement as if to rise. 
 
 "Not a step, stranger!" cried the vigilant Millhouse, hold- 
 sjig up the yawning pistols. "Wait tell the cappin gives the 
 word." 
 
 The captain seemed slow to give the word. He drew nigb 
 with the air of a man who felt that he might, at any moment, be 
 required to pull trigger. His rifle was held in readiness, his finger 
 near the trigger. He walked up to Millhouse, and looked suspi- 
 ciously at the vehicle. 
 
 " Who have you got here, sergeant ?" 
 
 The serg3ant sainted, in military style, flourishing the pistol 
 instead of the sword, as he answered 
 
 v " A fellow who calls himself Col. , but I don t know. 
 
 He mout-be, ana mout-be not, the colonel. But he says he 
 knows you, and you knows him." 
 
 Porgy advanced a pace, and peered suspiciously into the 
 vthicle, still ki-eping a very deliberate step, and a severe suspi 
 cious aspect. The sheriff cried out 
 
 What, Oapt. Porgy, don t you know me?" 
 
 " Bless mo, so it is ! It is Col. . My dear colonel, I 
 
 dm truly rejoiced to see you, and greatly regret that my fellowH 
 should have subjected you to durance vile for a single moment. 
 It was all a mistake. Get out, if you pl:?ase. They took you 
 
 for some d d harpy of the law the sheriff or some one of 
 
 his vile myrmidons. Get out, my dear fellow, and let us hurry 
 in to dinner. You are just in pudding-time." 
 
 " He evidently does not know that I have been made sheriff," 
 was the silent whisper of the colonel to himself, as, accepting tho 
 invitation, he descended from the vehicle, which Porgy imme 
 diately told Frampton to drive up to the house. 
 
 "We have but one single negro on the place," said Porgy j 
 "at sight of you, supposing you the sheriff, every two-legged 
 animal, of dark complexion, took to the swamp. You gave them 
 a scare, I assure you. But come, I am really glad to see you at 
 Glen-Eberley, and just at this moment." 
 
 And he shook hands with the sheriff, with the cordial army 
 shake, which threatened to dislocate a member in order to com 
 pel i-emeinbraiise The sheriff felt a litde relieved, even while 
 
430 WOODCKAFT. 
 
 the usage was so rough. They walked toward the house aiia 
 in arm 
 
 " Let me cany your rifle, captain," said the sheriff. 
 
 " My rifle ! No, indeed, colonel, no ! I never part with it. 1 
 know not at what moment I may have to use it. There is a 
 skunk of a Scotchman in my neighborhood, who may cross n.y 
 patli some day, and, as I tell you, I am in momentary expecta 
 tion of the visits of the sheriff, or some of his satellite harpies." 
 
 " But you certainly would not draw trigger upon an officer of 
 the la\v?" 
 
 "Would I not!" exclaimed the captain, suddenly stopping ir 
 his march, withdrawing his own arm from that of the other, aji . 
 confronting him with a stern expression. "WouKl I not? --Will 
 I consent, after fighting the battles of my country for seven y^ars, 
 
 to be driven from my estates by a d d civilian a fellow, 
 
 probably, who never smelt gunpowder in his life. No ! indeed ! 
 I will die in harness and in possession ! They may conquer me 
 I suppose they will, in time; but I will hold on while I can, 
 do battle to the last, and when they do take possession, they 
 shall walk into it only over my dead body." 
 
 " And here s the man to baick you, cappin, by the Lord Har- 
 
 IT !" 
 
 Such was the speech, delivered with stentor-lungs, from the 
 rear; the sergeant at the same moment amusing himself with 
 thrusting back his sabre into the steel sheath, with such an em 
 phasis, as to make it ring again. The sheriff was startled from 
 his propriety, for a moment, by the sudden illustration which 
 followed the captain s fierce determination. 
 
 " They are all mad together," he again whispered o himself; 
 a-d it might be observed that his deportment bec.im mor*t con 
 ."Jiatory than ever. 
 
 " Come, colonel, let us in, now, and see what dinner we shall 
 find awaiting us. A stoup of Jamaicp. will refresh you after your 
 vide, and me after my scare. The very idea of a sheriff makes 
 me thirst ; and to be relieved of this idea, I must drink. Come ! 
 In!" 
 
 And the captain seized his guest good-naturedly by the arm, 
 and the two ascended to the piazza, the* sergeant thundering with 
 heavy h-e- iri behind, his sabre sheath titling against the steps 
 
"COUP DE TIIEATTIE. . 431 
 
 at every stride, and reminded the sheriff, momently of the military 
 nature of the escort. When in the house, lie threw oil" his 
 hat, and Porgy discarded his military cap ; the squirrel-skin cover 
 ing of Millhouse was doffed also, and the three joined in a 
 devout draught of Jamaica. But, neither of the two latter laid aside 
 his weapons. The swords still swinging at their sides, and the 
 pistols at their belts. 
 
 Meanwhile, dinner was announced, and the captain of partisans 
 motioned the sheriff to a seat at one end of 4he table, he prepar 
 ing to take the place; opposite. The sergeant sank into a seat on 
 one side. Once seated, the captain unsheathed his sabre, which 
 he laid across the table, the hilt convenient to his grasp. The 
 sergeant followed the example, only substituting his lap for the 
 table. Lance Frampton came in at this moment, took a place oppo 
 site the sergeant, and, seeing what the latter had done with his 
 weapon, made a similar disposition of his own. 
 
 The sheriff saw these proceedings, which seemed habitual, 
 with increasing surprise. " Certainly," lie again whispered him 
 self, "these people are all mad !" The reflection increased his 
 observances, mid made him studious to maintain the utmost pro 
 priety of demeanor. He looked about him, and curiously sur 
 veyed all that came within the range of his vision. AVe have not 
 hitherto thought it necessary to mention that, witli the borrow 
 ed nionej 7 of Mrs. Eveleigh, the captain had succeeded in furnish 
 ing his house with some regard equally to comfort and display. 
 The want of money in the city when he entered the market, 
 and the number of families who were selling out, had enabled 
 him to procure a comple outfit at small cost. He no longer dined 
 upon the floor, carpeted with blanket. He had now ample sup 
 plies of chairs and tables ; there were mirrors against his walls; 
 and fine linen upon his table. There were no display of plate, it is 
 true, beyond the necessary allowance of spoons, but his china was 
 quite imposing, and would be considered so now. His decanters 
 and tumblers were of cut-glass, and the covers to his dishes were of 
 very handsome plating. 
 
 AA hen the dishes were uncovered, it was with increasing sur 
 prise that the sheriff beheld one, within reach of Porgy, con 
 taining a pair of highly-polished pistols. He attempted something 
 of a jest when he saw them. 
 
432 WOODCHAFT. 
 
 Really, captain, you can not design that dish for the digestion of 
 any visiter." 
 
 " The digestion must depend upon himself," was the cool reply ; 
 " but there are parties, who might sometimes intrude upon me, for 
 whose special feeding they are provided," 
 
 "What! the sheriff, eh?" with a faint chuckle. 
 
 " Exactly ! Shall I help you to soup, colonel ?" 
 
 "If you please." 
 
 "Bouille?" 
 
 "Thank you a little." 
 
 "You will find it more manageable than bullet." 
 
 " Yes, indeed !" 
 
 "Try a little of that Maderia with your soup. It improves it 
 wonderfully to my taste. Tom !" tasting "you have not put quite 
 enough salt in your soup?" 
 
 " Who say so ? Enty I know ? Tas e em gen, maussa! I speck 
 you fin salt nough in em next time. Heh ! Ef I ain t know, by 
 dis time, how for salt the soup, I t row way heap of my life 
 for not ing." 
 
 " Hear the rascal. He knows that he doesn t belong to me, or he 
 would never be so impudent. How are negroes selling now colonel ? 
 I got a hundred guineas for that fellow." 
 
 " You were well paid, captain. At his time of life, unless a fellow 
 had some rare qualities, he could scarcely command more than half 
 that money." 
 
 "Tom has rare qualities. He can cook a good dinner; can 
 make and season soup to perfection, and would have done so to-day 
 would certainly never have thrown in too little salt but that he 
 heard some talk of the sheriff, and in his agitation and the hurry 
 with which he armed himself with his favorite weapons sec the 
 knife and the hatchet lie has been careless with his salt has prob 
 ably spilt half of that in the fire which he intended for the soup. 
 How does it taste to you, colonel!" 
 
 "Right sir; very good soup, and well seasoned. I should say that 
 your cook has salted it sufficiently." 
 
 T ank you, sail," quoth Tom, "I mos bin fcar d I spill 
 some ob the salt, when I yer bout clem warmint, de sheriff; but ef 
 you tas e em, da s nough. Salt musn t be too sharp in soiip for he 
 good seas ning." 
 
COUP DE THEATRE. 438 
 
 From the soups they passed to the solids. There was a round 
 of beef. There was a pair of wild ducks. Tlio sheriff began tc 
 recover his confidence with his appetite, and to praise Tom s* 
 cooking. Porgy watched and listened to him with a grim pleas 
 ure. Occasionally, the sergeant put in, with some of his philos 
 ophies, whenever anything particularly provocative had been 
 said, hut it may be stated that he was particularly taciturn that 
 day. The fact is, the conduct of the captain was somewhat mys 
 terious. The guest was inoffensive/ was clearly not the sheriff 
 yet he saw that Porgy was playing out a game upon him 
 whether for the purpose of alarming the stranger s fears, or 
 amusing himself, he could not determine ; but the doubt kept 
 him fiercely suspicious, and watchful of every look and move 
 ment of the guest. 
 
 The sheriff noted the man s air and manner, and was impressed 
 accordingly. The conduct of Lance Frampton, who was singu 
 larly quiet, was yet of a sort to fix his attention. In this youvig 
 man he beheld a fixed confidence in his superior, and a readi 
 ness to obey orders, which showed that, at a wink, he would be 
 prepared to act, and without any regard to responsibilities. After 
 awhile the wine began to circulate, though the sergeant still con 
 fined himself to the Jamaica. Even when, at the summons of 
 the captain, he emptied his glass of Madeira, he was sure to 
 swallow a good mouthful of the rum after it, as if to prevent any 
 evil consequences from the more aristocratic liquor. The dishei 
 were cleared away, and Tom gave the party a rice-pudding, 
 which was voted good on all hands. Its removal was followed 
 by the introduction of raisins, ground-nuts (peanuts or pindars). 
 and -black .walnuts. Over the wine and walnuts, the chat grew 
 more and more lively. It passed from topic to topic ; the town 
 and country ; the camp and court ; civil life and that of the 
 soldier; but there was one lurking trouble in the mind of the 
 sheriff which invariably brought him badk to the peculiar condi 
 tion in which he found the household. 
 
 " Really," said he, " captain, I find it impoasible to realize the 
 assurance that you make me, that you are all armed and equipped 
 here to resist the operations of the law." 
 
 " Indeed !" said Porgy, looking grave. "You find it difficult 
 io understand, and why 1 Is it so strange that I should be un- 
 
484 
 
 willing; to surrender nil my possessions, at the first demand, and 
 Without a struggle." 
 
 " But, you could scarcely expect to make resistance to the laws 
 of the land. The sheriff is armed Avith a sovereign power for 
 the time. How would you hope to hold out against him ?" 
 
 You mean to say that he would overwhelm me with the />?- 
 se cotnitaf&s ?" 
 
 " Ay, and if need, call out the military !" 
 
 " To be sure he may, and certainly there is a power to which 
 my own must succumb. What then ? If I am to yield up all 
 the goods nf life, why not life also ? What is life to me ? You 
 know my tastes and habits. You know how I have lived and 
 how I still live. Some men will tell you that I am a glutton, 
 others, that I imbue my appetites equally with my taste and 
 philosophies; all agree that I am, essentially, a good deal of an 
 animal that I was profligate in youth that I might enjoy life, 
 and that in the good things of this life, I find life itself. I won t 
 deny the charge. Be it so. Am I to survive the good things, 
 and yet cherish the life ? Wherefore ? What docs Shylock 
 say whom, by-thc-way, I take to be a very shrewd and sen 
 sible fellow, and a greatly ill-used rascal 
 
 You Uikc my life 
 
 Whi n you do tako tlio menus whereby I live! 
 
 And, when I have perilled my life a thousand times for the ben 
 efit of other people s goods, shall I not venture it for the protec 
 tion of my own ?" 
 
 " But, my dear captain there is a material difference between 
 doing a thing with the sanction of the law, and in defiance of it." 
 
 "None to me \ Don t you see, my dear colonel, that I am 
 prepared to sacrifice my life with my property, and that law can 
 in no way, exact a higher forfeit ? But d n the law ! We ve 
 had enough of it for the present. Fill up your glass. You will 
 find that Madeira prime. It is from an ancient cellar !" 
 
 " Thank you ! [Fills.] Well, my dear captain, suffer me to 
 hope for you an escape from the clutches of the law by legiti 
 mate means !" 
 
 " I m obliged to you, my dear colonel ; but we army men don t 
 care much about the means, EO that we effect the escape. I am 
 for stratagem or fight, sap or storm, just as the best policy conn- 
 
COUP DE THEATRE. 
 
 cils. Life, after all, is a constant warfare. Rogues are only en 
 emies in lamLskins, or ermine. They do not care to cut my 
 tin-oat so long as I have a purse to cut; they will not care to 
 drive me to desperation, so long as it is profitable to them that 
 J should live. I know them ! I defy them ! I can die with 
 out a grunt to-morrow. I have neither wife, nor child, nor moth 
 er, nor sister, to deplore my fate, or to profit by my departure. 
 I am, with the exception of these two faithful comrades of mine, 
 utterly alone in the world. They shall live with me while I 
 live. They would die for me to-morrow. Were a man but to 
 lift a finger against me, to assail my life, or my meanest fortunes, 
 they would be into him with bullet and bayonet, and need not 
 ;i signal from me." 
 
 " ( That s a rightious truth, by the Hokies!" exclaimed the ser 
 geant, with his one fist thundering down upon the table. The 
 lieutenant s eyes brightened keenly, and he looked to the captain, 
 but he said nothing. 
 
 " I have no doubt they are true and faithful friends, captain," 
 said the sheriff; "but suppose now, only suppose, I say, the sher 
 iff was suddenly to appear among you, just as I am here now, 
 and were to " 
 
 He was stopped ! Stopped in an instant, as by a thunderbolt, 
 by the prompt reply and action of Porgy. 
 
 " Suppose the sheriff in you ! Ha ! suppose the rest for your 
 self. See!" 
 
 And with the wild but determined look and action of a despe 
 rate man, he seized both pistols lying in the dish before him, 
 stood up, reached as far over the table as he could, and covered 
 the figure of the amiable but indiscreet sheriff with both muzzles 
 cocking the weapons as he did so. The sheriff involuntarily 
 dodged and threw up his hands. At the same instant, and as 
 soon as the purpose of the superior had been understood by Mill- 
 house and the lieutenant, they were both upon their feet the 
 sergeant swinging his sabre over the head of the supposed 
 offender ; while Frampton, more silent, but quite as decided, 
 while he swung his sword aloft with one hand, grasped with the 
 other the well-powdered shock of the sheriff, in an attitude very 
 like that which we see employed by the ferocious Blue Beard 
 m the opera, when *thc poor wife is tremblingly crying out for 
 
436 ;!HiLVFT. 
 
 her brother. Here was an unpremeditated coup de theatre f 
 Two swords crossed in air above the victim, two pistols, with 
 eacli broad muzzle almost jammed against his own; every eye 
 savagely fixed upon him, and all parties seeming to await only 
 the farther word of provocation from his lips. Nothing had been 
 more instantaneous. The subordinates were machines, to whom 
 Porgy furnished all the impulse. Their action followed his will, 
 as soon as it was expressed. There was no questioning it, and 
 the amiable sheriff was so much paralyzed by the display, that 
 it was only with much effort that he could cry out "But, my 
 dear captain, don t suppose me the enemy the assailant th* 
 d d sheriff or any of.his myrmidons." 
 
 " By no means, colonel ; but you supposed a case in order to 
 sue whether, and how, we were prepared for it; and it was essen 
 tial that you should have a proper demonstration. You have 
 seen ; be easy ; fill up your glass, my dear sir, and forgive my 
 merry men here for the earnestness with which they performed 
 their parts. They had no reason, indeed, to suppose that I was 
 not serious. You see what chance a l>ona-Jidc sheriff would 
 stand, if he aimed at any showing here!" 
 
 Porgy had resumed his seat, and restored the pistols to the 
 dish as coolly as the actor, who takes his brandy and water, equal 
 parts, after strangling his wife, stabbing the traitor, and dying 
 famously in the person of Othello. It was not so easy for Mill- 
 house to throw off his tragic aspect. He resumed his seat slowly, 
 never once taking his eyes from the colonel s face, as he did so; 
 and during the whole progress of the feast, he continued to 
 regard him with only half-reconciled senses. 
 
 
LEGAL REGIMEN. 437 
 
 CHAPTER LVIII. 
 
 LEGAL REGIMEN. 
 
 THE excellent sheriff no longer felt any call to trespass in ex 
 periments upon the legal antipathies of the captain of partisans 
 and his observant follower. He steered wide of all allusions from 
 thenceforth to the officer of the law, and his possible appearance 
 in the precincts. He felt really impressed with the danger of 
 any one who should, with malice prepense, do so, in the evidently 
 diseased condition of mind and mood prevailing at Glen-Eberley. 
 That he should thus forbear, however, was by no means agreeable 
 to liis self-esteem or his sense of duty. He was uncomfortable 
 when he thought of his official station, and the sealed documents 
 in his pockets. He had come there to make a levy on land and 
 negroes, without dreaming that he should encounter any opposi 
 tion. Resistance, with force of arms, was entirely beyond his . 
 imaginings; and to depart, having done nothing was at once a 
 lacliessc of duty and a personal mortification. More than once he 
 felt like plucking up his drowning courage, and perilling his life 
 upon his manhood boldly challenging the danger, and facing 
 it with folded arms of defiance ; but, on all such occasions, as if 
 Porgy and his followers knew, by instinct, his emotions, there 
 should occur some explosion, or some symptom of explosion, 
 which would remind him vividly of the smouldering volcano upon 
 which he sat. For example, he once made an allusion, de 
 liberately designed, to M Kewn ; and Millhouse flared up, and 
 fumbled his sabre, and gnashed his teeth, even as the French 
 man when he cries, "Sacre!" through his mustache, or the 
 Spaniard when he growls " Demonios !" and flourishes his dagger, 
 Frampton showed similar signs of impatience while Porgy ex 
 claimed aloud, striking his fist down upon the table : 
 
 " Don t mention that scoundrel s name in my hearing, colonel ! 
 I feel wolfish when I hear of him. Let him but cross my path 
 
488 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 let any of liis i.iyrmidons but put themselves in ray way, and it 
 I do not crop their ears, close to the head, then there s no edge 
 to any weapon in my household." 
 
 " But is he not a neighbor, captain?" 
 
 " Neighbor! Well, sir, I suppose you may call him a neigh 
 bor, even as the devil is a neighbor, and is said to take free 
 i.idgings in every man s dwelling; but such neighborhood does 
 iiOi prevent us from flinging the wretch out of the windows, 
 whenever our good saints give us the necessary succor. Don t 
 speak of such a scoundrel to my ears, or I may do you the injus 
 tice to suppose you are his friend." 
 
 The sheriff took the warning, and M Kewn was dropped, and 
 all subjects were dropped which were likely to stir up the bile and 
 black blood in the bosoms of the host and his companions. The 
 sheriff resigned himself to his fate, and to the policy of doing 
 nothing with as much grace as possible. He was not only fright 
 ened from the purpose for which he came, but the feeling of good 
 fellowship momently grew stronger with the circulation of the 
 wine, and the excellent spirits of the captain. The latter, in all 
 inspects, except the one, was on his best behavior, and in most 
 amiable temper. He never showed himself more really humor 
 ous and delightful as a companion in all his life. The sheriff 
 was charmed and listened, lie was soothed and satisfied. Hii 
 philosophy came into the support of his necessity. He reasoned 
 thus, accordingly : 
 
 " There is no need to push the matter ! Porgy s estate is good, 
 at any moment, for this debt. Every day increases the value of 
 both lands and negroes. Were I to seize and sell now, the prop 
 erty would be sacrificed. It would pay the debt, but leave 
 nothing over to the good fellow, who has been serving his 
 country in a long and honorable warfare. D n the fellow! I 
 like him, and he shall have indulgence as long as I can grant it !" 
 
 As soon as he had reached this conclusion, and resolved thai 
 his visit should no longer have a professional object, the play wab 
 easy. He yielded himself up to the society in which he found 
 himself. He felt the charm of his host s fun and philosophy; 
 and lie, too, had good things in his keeping. When he had once 
 resolved to sink the sheriff, he gave himself free scope, let him 
 self out, and became, what lie was known to be in the army, a 
 
LEGAL REGIMEN. 439 
 
 really good fellow, of no savage inclinations, fond of a jovial 
 circle, and capable of making himself the life of it. The day 
 passed and the party of four had not left the table. They had 
 raised their clouds around it ; all being smokers except the 
 lieutenant. Coffee was served by Tom, in the midst of the 
 cloud. When the coffee disappeared, the Jamaica and tin- 
 Madeira were restored. G&rds followed, and at twelve o clock 
 at night, the sheriff rose a loser of some thirty shillings to ser 
 geant Millhouse, who played through the hands of Frampton, 
 and who became more and more reconciled to the suspicious 
 guest with every shilling which the latter yielded. When, next 
 morning, after the colonel s departure, which took place soon 
 after an early breakfast he was discoursing of his good quali 
 ties, his companionable virtues, and so forth, the captain of par 
 tisans laid his hand on his shoulder 
 
 " Ah ! Millhouse, but you don t know the man." 
 
 " What ! he s Col. , aint he ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And a main good fellow, I say." 
 
 "Well enough; well enough; but your ear, sergeant." 
 
 The latter yielded it; the captain stooped as if to whisper 
 then in deep, solemn accents, as if drawn up from immeasurable 
 depths, he cried out : 
 
 "THE COLONEL is THE SHERIFF!" 
 
 The sergeant made but one bounce, and was across the room; 
 his countenance wo-begone with surprise amounting to terror. 
 His involuntary utterance, occasioned equally by what ho, had 
 heard, and the tone of voice employed in telling it, was charac 
 teristic of his early attention when at church service. 
 
 " Haz rk from the tombs ! The sheriff, cappin !" 
 
 "The sheriff!" 
 
 " What ! our sheriff, what s a-corning a ter our goods and 
 chattels." 
 
 " Tke same !" 
 
 Oh ! ef I d ha knowcd it ! I ll be a ter him ! Lance!" 
 
 "No! Do nothing of the kind ! We ve got off, thus far, very 
 well. The joke is a good one, upon which I can feed fat with 
 laughter for a month. I must ride over and tell the widow. How 
 her sides will shake!" 
 
440 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 " The sheriff ! It s owpossible, cappin ! And he haved him 
 self so civil and sensible, and never said a thing about the cl d 
 execution !" 
 
 " No, indeed ! the pistols looked too full of executions of a more 
 serious sort, to say nothing of your two-foot sabre, and your mon 
 strous ferocity of visage, sergeant." 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha! ho! ho! ho! haw! haw! haw!" 
 
 The whole story became very slowly apparent to Millhouse 
 but when he did receive it fully, the house was made to shake 
 with his wild yells of laughter. Lance Framptou was perhaps* 
 more keenly sensible to the force of the jest, but he permitted 
 himself, at best, a quiet chuckle only in a comer. It was in the 
 midst of a torrent of Millhouse s yells, that Porgy had his horse 
 saddled, and rode over to the widow Eveleigh, to whom he re 
 counted the little drama, from the first scene to the last, with in 
 imitable effect. The widow did laugh ; dignity, 41 those days, 
 did not deny the privileges of an honest cachinatiou even to 
 nobility ; and, we are constrained to admit, as had been predicted 
 by Porgy, that her sides did shake : but not vulgarly, or with 
 too ostentatious a display of the commotion within and without. 
 It was a lady-like show of shaking which did not discredit, in 
 the least, the social claims and bearing of the fair widow. But 
 when she recovered herself from the shaking of the sides, she 
 shook her head, and, with becoming gravity, said : 
 
 " But, captain, is not this flying in the face of the law 1 Will 
 this not compromise you seriously ?" 
 
 " By no means, my dear widow," he answered merrily ; " the 
 law never showed its face to us for a moment. We have treated 
 it with no discourtesy." 
 
 " But its messenger, the sheriff!" , 
 
 "He never showed himself in that character." 
 
 " But that was due to your course " 
 
 " Perhaps ; but that course was not illegal. There is nothing 
 penal in the case. If he allowed his apprehensions to get the 
 better of his sense of duty, the more fool he. He has no right 
 to complain and will be ashamed to do so. As for the law, we 
 have done nothing against which the law can shake a finger." 
 
 " But the matter does not end here. The sheriff will of course 
 come again, and " 
 
LEGAL II ECU MEN. 441 
 
 " I shall play out the play, my dear Mrs. Evcleigh, as it has 
 begun. I must have the fun in fall ; and for the rest, why, I 
 will content myself with the proverb of the patriarch Suffi 
 cient for the day is the evil thereof. It will be time enough to 
 look out for the bolt when we hear the thunder." 
 
 "Too late the flash!" 
 
 " Precisely, my dear widow, precisely that! It is because the 
 case is one against which no precautions can avail, that I choose 
 to lo.ok out for the bolt after it strikes and not before. But, good 
 ly, I must ride back and write to Pinckney all about this mat 
 ter. He must share the fun. He will relish it, I know. I would 
 he had been a spectator ! The thing is indescribable ; only to 
 be seen in the visages of Millhouse, Lance, and the sheriff, as 
 the two crossed weapons over his head, and I faced him out of 
 countenance with my unmuzzled bull-dogs. My dear widow, 
 would you believe it, the innocent pups that looked so fiercely 
 in the eyes of the sheriff, were toothless. There was no load in 
 either. But, good-by ; God bless you ! I must get back in a 
 hurry. I rode over only that you should enjoy the story." 
 
 The story, indeed, was quite too good a one to be quiet in any 
 bosom. That ve v y night Millhouse gave an entertainment to 
 Fordham and the overseer f M Kewn himself, when the narra 
 tive was given at length. M Kewn s man relished it quite as 
 ir.ucli as did Fordham ; and the next day, when M Kewn saun 
 tered out to his stables, he was duly enlightened upon the events 
 occurring in his neighborhood. He had expected the sheriff at 
 his house after or before the levy, and had he made it, the, proba 
 bility is that the night would have been spent with M Kewn in 
 stead of Porgy. The former listened to his overseer without 
 comment. He saw that the latter watched him furtively, to see 
 what effect would be produced by the revelation. But he was 
 disappointed. M Kewn maintained the utmost immobility of 
 countenance. He said nothing, spent the day as usual, but the 
 very next, he had his carriage got and started off on a visit to 
 the officer of the law. The sheriff was by no means surprised 
 to see him enter his office ; but the visit disquieted him. 
 
 "Have you proceeded in that business, colonel? M KewD 
 versus Porgy." 
 
442 WOOUUEAFT. 
 
 " Not yet, Mr. M Kewn." 
 
 " But did you not visit Glen-ELerley for the express purpose, 
 colonel ?" 
 
 <No not exactly! I wished to look about me, and judge 
 of the securities. As I saw that the property would bring the 
 money at any moment, I did not see the necessity of forcing it 
 into the market, where it would be only sacrificed." 
 
 M Kewn .smiled significantly. The sheriff saw the smile. He 
 understood it, and blushed to the ears. He saw that the secret 
 of his reception had got abroad. He, at once, felt all the mortifi 
 cation to which it would expose him. He longed for M Kown to 
 give him occasion of quarrel. He needed somebody on whom 
 to expend his anger and vexation. But the Scotchman was too 
 wary for this. He quietly said 
 
 "I can not leave this matter to the discretion of anybody, co 
 lonel, however excellent his judgment. I must have my money ; 
 and I must require you to realize it as soon as it is practicable/ 
 
 "But, Mr. M Kewn, it will be the ruin of Captain Porgy !" 
 
 "That is his lookout, not mine; not to realize my money, 
 may be my ruin, colonel ; I must require you to do your duty, 
 sir. From this moment I shall look to you." 
 
 " Be it so, sir. There is a deputy. He shall be despatched 
 at once upon the business." 
 
 M Kewn looked round upon the person designated, and nodded 
 his head approvingly. He knew Crooks Absalom Crooks 
 of old, and respected him as one of the very best bull-terriers of 
 the law a broad shouldered, stout, short, little fellow, with no 
 crook about him except in his legs, which were bowed, so as to 
 render the space between a very happy oval; while his arms 
 hung out from his body at large range. He had a red head, red 
 face, red whiskers, red waistcoat, and was tolerably well read in 
 the law. M Kcwii knew his man and approved him. 
 
 "Crooks," said he taking the deputy aside "see well to 
 this business; get the negroes into your custody, and bring 
 them right away with you. It shall be worth to you five guineas 
 extra, as soon as the money is realized." 
 
 Crooks crooked the pregnant hinges of the knee, at these preg 
 nant words, and promised solemnly. 
 
 "Hark you, Crooks; you are dealing with cunning fellows. 
 
LEGAL REGIMEN. 443 
 
 who will try all ways to scare you out of your duties; but don t 
 allow yourself to be frightened." 
 
 "Frightened!" exclaimed Crooks, "don t know how to be 
 frightened, sir, never learnt, sir couldn t take that sort of 
 education. Frightened! I d like to see." 
 
 And Crooks looked his fiercest. In truth, he was not the man 
 to be very easily made afraid, lie was a fiery little fellow, all 
 combustible; as ready to fight as eat, at any time, and though 
 continually getting drubbed, as continually forgetting the c-vent 
 iu the encounter with a new assailant, lie readily undertook tl.r 
 mission, and felt a sort of personal pique against Porgy and his 
 men, as they were supposed capable of inspiring such a person 
 as himself with fear. The sheriff saw the deputy depart under 
 secret instructions from M Kewn, with well founded appreher- 
 sionF But he could do nothing to avert the danger. He had 
 only to look anxiously for the progress of events. Of course, he 
 was somehow curious to see how Crooks would fare at Glen 
 Eberley. He knew r that the fellow had no fear, and his nm.u 
 was distracted betwixt two points 
 
 " Either he will succeed by boldness, where I failed through 
 timidity, or Porgy and his fellows will do him serious harm. 
 In either case, should the facts about my visit be blown, what 
 the d 1 will be said of me?" 
 
 We must leave him to these annoying reflections, and accom 
 pany our deputy to Glen-Ebcrley. Mounted on a stout hackney 
 accustomed to official dignity, Crooks made his way, with all 
 diligence, to the scene of his anticipated labors. The documents 
 were in his pocket, and, once armed with a formidable parchment, 
 well scored with Gothic characters, and made terrific with seals 
 of state, Crooks felt no sort of doubt of the uniform reverence 
 which he should everywhere command. Crooks had never 
 served in the wars, though pugnacious enough for all sorts of 
 struggle; aiid he had no notion of any power which, for a 
 moment, could gainsay or run counter to that of the law. The 
 courts of law were, to his mind, scenes of far more imposing 
 grandeur than any lie had conceived of in earth or in heaven 
 a judge, in gowned black, was a more potent personage to him 
 ;Juin v.-.-.s Rhadamanthus to the superstitious among the ancients; 
 and, for a sheriff (the ambition of a deputy, or a constable, in 
 
4-14 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 
 
 those clays, never dared look so high as this office for himself; il 
 was a stretch quite beyond the vulgar imagination in the first 
 days of the republic), Crooks held him in as much veneration, 
 or more, than he could hold any general of the army unless, 
 indeed, General Washington. He was yet to become familiar 
 with a feudal baron, and to comprehend the extent of his 
 authority. 
 
 He was encountered at the entrance of the avenue, precisely 
 as his principal had been, by a man in armor. His first saluta 
 tion was a seizure. He, who had done the seizing hitherto, was, 
 in turn, seized upon. His hackney was suddenly brought up, 
 by a short jerk, from a man springing out of the covert beside 
 the gate of the avenue. 
 
 "Who are you?" was the unexpected demand, as the horse 
 was backed upon his haunches, and a pistol held toward the 
 head of the rider. 
 
 "Who am 1 1 I ll let you know before you like it. Let go 
 my horse!" 
 
 "No fooling! Who are you? What are you after here? 
 What s your business!" 
 
 " My business is my business, and you ll know it soon enough. 
 By what right do you stop me ? Do you want to rob me, you 
 rascal." 
 
 The words were scarcely out of his mouth before a blow of 
 the fist tumbled him out of the saddle. The horse bounced : the 
 deputy rolled over for a. moment; and Lance Frampton, for it 
 was he, seized the opportunity to turn the steed into the enclosure. 
 He thus obeyed the instinct of the partisan. He had captured 
 a horse, and his first measure was to secure it. The next mo 
 ment he looked after his prisoner. It was time; Crooks was 
 already on his feet and making toward him. Frampton con- 
 iVonted him with his pistols. Crooks had nothing but his riding 
 whip. This, he shook at his assailant, at a moderate distance. 
 
 "You shall sweat for this, you rascal. I am an officer of the 
 law. I represent the county. I stand here in the sheriff s 
 slices, ami resistance to an officer an assault upon an officer 
 i i et armis, with swords, pistols, dagger, knife, rifle, blunder 
 buss and gun, you rascal is outlawry, and you shall sweat 
 fcr it. 1 tell you I stand here in the shoes of the sheriff. 
 
LEGAL UEGIMEN. 4 [ ."> 
 
 " You do, do you? and if you stood in the jacket of the sher 
 iff it wouldn t help yon much. Turn in to the avenue, or I ll 
 put a bullet into you. You re my prisoner." 
 
 " Your prisoner! Was ever the like? and me a deputy 
 sheriff!" 
 
 " Get in, I tell you; you shall have a fair trial." 
 
 "Trial! Try me ! Who the li-ll are you, sir?" 
 
 "Never you mind. Get in, and ask your questions of the 
 captain." 
 
 "The captain! What! you mean Captain Porgy." 
 
 "Yes! Who else here?" 
 
 "The very man I want to see. I ll go in. It s not because 
 I m afraid of your pistols, young fellow; I don t care that for 
 em [snapping- his fingers], and you shall sweat for showing em 
 to me ; but I go in to see Captain Porgy. He s my man." 
 
 "Get in! I don t care what you go for, so that you go!" 
 
 Lance Frampton sounded his bugle, as the deputy entered the 
 gate. Crooks went forward, venting his indignation at every 
 step. He was suddenly stopped, midway in the avenue, by 
 another man in armor. Lance and the new-comer saluted, and 
 the prisoner was formally transferred from the former to the 
 latter. Frampton proceeded toward the house. Crooks, staring 
 at the gigantic figure, and frowning aspect of the new-comer, 
 and greatly bewildered at the odd accumulation of uniform and 
 armor about him, was, however, about to press forward, follow 
 ing his late assailant, when the sergeant suddenly arrested him. 
 
 " Stand where you are, fellow, or I ll be into you with some 
 thing sharper than a baggonet." 
 
 And he flourished his sabre directly in front of the person of 
 the deputy. 
 
 " The devil ! What do you stop me for ? Do you know who 
 I am and what I ve come for ?" 
 
 " I ve a notion," answered the sergeant, looking more tierce 
 than ever. 
 
 "Do you know I am here for the sheriff; sent here to make 
 a levy of all the lands, rights, titles, hereditaments, goods and 
 chattels, niggers and stock, furniture and apparel, carts, wagons 
 ploughs, hoes, shovels, and all and every the implements of thib 
 plantation, to take and hold thereof, and make sale thereof, in 
 
146 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 satisfaction of the judgment in the case of M Kewn v. Porgy 
 Do you hoar? Do you understand? And do you dare to ar 
 rest and stop me in the prosecution of this, my lawful duty." 
 
 " I thought as much !" said Millhousc, with an awful lowering 
 of the brows, and a lurid smile in his eyes. " I thought as much 
 And it is sich a little mean copper-headed son of a skunk, that 
 has the impudence to come here and to seize the rightful prop 
 erty of a gentleman and one too, who is a rigilar off cer in the 
 line of the army. I ve most a mind to take hold of you and lace 
 your jacket with hickories I hev !" 
 
 " Lace my jacket ! Hickories ! I dare you. Do your best. 
 But you shall sweat for it. You shall, ef there s any law in this 
 land. " 
 
 "Don t provocate me with your law !" was the reply "the 
 very word law makes me feel wolfish the hair all growing 
 innardly. Law, indeed ! Shet up, you little polecat, or I ll 
 mount you with sich a spur as will take all the red blood out of 
 your hide in no time." 
 
 " I dare you ! I defy you ! You can t scare me with your big 
 words and your bullets. Give me one of your pistols, and I m 
 willing to try a crack with you on the spot." 
 
 " You ain t ! Well, ef you warn t a prisoner, I d let you ; but 
 thar s no sense in granting we pons to a prisoner." 
 
 " By what right do you make me a prisoner? By what right 
 do you deprive me of my liberty, and stop me in the prosecution 
 of my duty ] Answer me ?" 
 
 " Oh ! shot up ! When did you ever hear that the prisoner 
 was to ax the questions ? It s you that s to answer, and here 
 comes the lieutenant. He ll tell you what the cappin says and 
 what s to be done with you." 
 
 -Very well! I ll hear." 
 
 " You ll hev a fair trial, I promise you." 
 
 " Trial ! Who s to try me 1 I won t go ! I ll not submit to 
 any but a lawful court." 
 
 "And who s to ax you! Well, lieutenant?" 
 
 " The captain says bring the fellow before him." 
 
 " Come, copper-head ! march !" .and Millhouse, planting him 
 self on one side of the captive, Franiptou took his place ~>n the 
 other. 
 
LEGAL REGIMEN. 447 
 
 " I ll not march ! I ll not go ! Let the captain come here to 
 me, if lie wants me. I m far enough on this place for what I ve 
 got to execute, and I charge and command yon both, and all 
 who hear me, as good citizens " 
 
 " Shot up, you bawling warm hit. !" cried the sergeant, and ha 
 accompanied the words by thrusting the rough handle of his sa 
 lire quite across the jaws of the deputy. The other turned upon 
 him fiercely, but was brought back, with a jerk, by the hand of 
 Frampton, who, with a shove, forcibly bade him " go ahead 
 on !" At the same moment, he was pricked keenly in the Hanks 
 by the tip of Millhouse s sword, and, looking to the lieutenant, 
 he saw that of the latter ready to enforce his progress by similar 
 arguments. This was sharp practice, and quite new to Crooks, 
 The sweat stood full on the face of the little fellow ; but he still 
 cried out, with a tough spirit, burning with fury : 
 
 Oh ! you shall both sweat for all this." 
 
 " Oh ! very well ! That s as it happens. Every man must 
 Lev his turn. But it s for you to sweat first," and a renewed 
 pricking of the sergeant s sabre threatened something worse than 
 sweating. 
 
 " Oh !" groaned the deputy, as he obeyed the- impulse and 
 went forward. Several times he paused, making a new endeav 
 or to hold his ground, and as often way he made to feel the spur. 
 When he reached the house, he was forced up the steps, through 
 the piazza, into the hall, then thrust down into a chair, with a 
 hand of each of his attendants upon his shoulder. 
 
 " We ve got him, cappin !" cried out Milihouse to Porgy in 
 his chamber. The captain of partisans had been reaping the 
 stubble field, the autumnal harvests of his chin, which were quite 
 too grisly to be suffered to offend his own or other eyes. He 
 came forth with coat off, sleeves rolled up, neck bare, and razor 
 in his grasp. The moment he beheld the deputy, he cried out 
 
 " Heavens ! What a monster ! What a horrible looking crea 
 ture ! What a beard. Coppery-red ; a perfect jingle, and full, 
 no doubt, of all sorts of diminutive beasts. Sergeant, we must 
 have that fellow s beard off." 
 
 Milihouse absolutely shouted at the idea. 
 
 " Tom !" roared the captain. Tom appeared at the door, 
 Quick, Tom, soap and napkin ; and take off that horrid beard. 
 
448 WOODCRAFT 
 
 Crooks would have bounded from his sent. He prided him 
 self on his beard. It s coppery red, apparently so offensive to 
 all about him, was to him the perfection of beauty, It s red he 
 held to be that of roses, and as for the amplitude of it, its wild, 
 wide-spread bushy dimensions, these he stroked a thousand times 
 a day with an affection which may be imagined. To lose his 
 beard, even in jest, was almost as bad as to lose his scalp. He 
 now began feverishly to apprehend, that with such compan 
 ions, he should lose both. He leaped up, but was immediately 
 thrust back into his seat by the ready hands of his attendants. 
 
 " I won t submit to this. I tell you I warn you I am an 
 officer of justice. I m here under the great seal of the state. 
 I m on official duties. I m under the sacred protection of the law." 
 
 " How horribly he shouts ! But, with such a beard, what 
 mortal man can talk like a human being. You don t understand 
 a word he says, sergeant ?" 
 
 " Not a word ! I reckon it s a sort of nigger speech from 
 Africa." 
 
 " Do you understand the savage creature, Lance ?" 
 
 " I reckon s he s crazy, captain," answered Lance. 
 
 " Truly, I think so. He will need a strait jacket. But 
 there s no judging rightly his condition till we take off that 
 brush." 
 
 " Let s burn it off, cappin." 
 
 " No ! no ! he may be human, and that might hurt him. We ll 
 shave it off, and then see what he really is. I suspect he be 
 longs to the monkey species he s an orang-outang ; you know 
 what that is, sergeant." 
 
 " Hate man, hafe horse, and two parts alligator, I reckin." 
 - " You re very nigh the mark. Hurrah, Tom ! make haste." 
 
 Tom made his appearance with basin, towel, soap, &c. The 
 deputy seeing his danger, and that the affair was looking serious, 
 made another effort to escape from the clutches in which he was 
 held, and accompanied the effort by a fearful outcry, touching 
 the terrors of the law. Btit in vain. 
 
 " Tie him down. Handkerchief, there, Tom. Secure him, so 
 that he may not do himself harm. He is certainly very wild. 
 He must have been only lately caught. Somebody must have 
 put these clothes on him by fovev.." 
 
LECAL RK(JIMKN. 
 
 While, tlic captain thus dilated, his assistants busied themselves 
 in securing the deputy to his seat. His arms were tethered tn 
 the back of the chair, which was one of those massive mahogany 
 receptacles so common at that period, and representing a much 
 earlier period in the history of English civilization. The chaii 
 n as, in fact, modelled upon the times of Elizabeth. Thus se 
 cured, with his head held back, the napkin tucked beneath his 
 chin, Tom approached and proceeded to lay on tin , lather. The 
 thick soapy mass was thrust ad lilntvm into mouth and nostrils. 
 The deputy yelled, but as the soap made fearful progress into 
 his jaws at every opening, he was, perforce, content to sputter, 
 and sneeze, and kick and writhe. All efforts were unavailing. 
 His captors were resolute in their fun. "Law!" he cried. 
 "Lather!" cried Porgy ; and Tom obeyed. Half suffocated, 
 though more furious than ever, Crooks finally yielded, and Tom 
 proceeded to apply the razor. Tom had acquired, in camp, the 
 arts of the barber, as well as the cook. lie was not so dextrous 
 as determined. Crooks saw that it was at his own peril that he 
 writhed, or twisted, or reared his head, or stuck out his chin un 
 necessarily. Tom would say quietly: 
 
 "You only guine to wussen youse f, buckrah ef you is a 
 buckrah wid you kickings and cawortings, Better you keep 
 youself easy, ef you don t want me for slice off you nose." 
 
 Here was a new peril. Slice off his nose ! The loss of the 
 petted beard was a great evil but to lose his nose also, was 
 such as it made him doubly sweat to meditate. 
 
 " Don t cut off his nose, Tom," cried Porgy, with a great aii 
 of concern. " This class of animals seldom have mucli to spare > 
 and the loss of such a member, would really disfigure the face 
 terribly." 
 
 " Lord, cappin, nothing could make such a critter more ugly 
 than he is," answered Millhouse ; " but he could lose an inch of 
 snout and never miss it. Why, Lord, he s got a nose like n 
 baggonet and a most hafe as long !" 
 
 Tom, meanwhile, prosecuted his labor with diligence. He 
 was a bold cutter. It was all army practice with him swift, 
 slashing, reckless, not easily stopped by trifling impediments. 
 At every swoop, Crooks found a wide waste of forest growth re 
 moved ; huge tracts ot warm furze disappeared, as the prairie 
 
450 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 grass in autumn, under the; fire. Soon, the entire wilderness of 
 hriisli was cleaned up. The territory was now smooth, and the 
 light let in upon a region that had not peen the day for half a 
 dozen years. Crooks was no longer the same man ; he felt c<>M 
 nli -ut the chin; hut his chill greatly increased when lie heard 
 Tom ask 
 
 " Must tck off he hair now, maiiswi ? He look berry bad and 
 upK. 1 reel:::) he must he full of warrnints." 
 
 Torgy seemed for a moment to meditate, the matter; but he 
 waived Tom off. 
 
 No ! that s rii Migh, Tom, for the present. I think we may 
 nou make out the species of the animal." 
 
 " I m the deputy sheriff my name s Crooks." 
 
 " A well-known warmint, cappin. I reckon you mont as well 
 skin him ahi ^vf her. ,! -;ike off the sea!)) now. and we ll 
 
 be sure to know him next ti 
 
 "No! no! It is not so much that we may kno\v him, as that 
 he may know us hereafter. I see what he is. Let him gn now. 
 1 reckon he s tame enough for the present. Now. let him have 
 a Swallow of Jamaica." 
 
 "] drink nothing in this house !" cried the deputy rising to 
 
 his feet 
 
 " Then you lose the taste of a mighty good dram of liquor." 
 
 " And 1 warn \u all -all three of you that you shall an 
 swer for this assault and battery. You, Captain Porgy I kno\\ 
 you and you, and you. I will have it all out of you three, il 
 there s any law in the land." 
 
 " You won t drink," said Porgy. 
 
 "Not a drop with you, or in this house." 
 
 11 Will you eat ?" 
 
 "Not a mouthful !" 
 
 " Then we ve done all that we can do for you, unless you desire 
 that Tom should take off that shock. It is unnecessarily thick 
 and long. Can that be hair ?" 
 
 " Look you, Captain Porgy, I ve submitted to your assaults 
 and batteries because I could not help myself." 
 
 " A mighty goo I reason too !" 
 
 " But I will have redress. Now, sir, I will do my duty, and 
 here I give you notice, that in the character of the Sheriff of 
 
LEGAL URC.IMKN. 4nl 
 
 k Boo! woo! woo! woo! Shall I muzzle him, cappin ?" 
 
 " No ! let him go. Depart, my good fellow, while your bones 
 are whole. We have done for you the best we could." 
 
 " I ll not go until I have made a levy upon all the lands and 
 negroes, the goods and chattels of this estate of Glen-Eberley, 
 under the authority of the papers which I now carry, and which 
 F will read for the benefit " 
 
 By this time he had drawn the documents out of his pocket. 
 
 " Beware how you attempt to read any of those vile heathen 
 documents here," said Porgy, assuming an air of great, sternness. 
 
 " State of South Carolina !" began the deputy. 
 
 " As surely as you attempt to read that paper, I will make 
 you eat it !" 
 
 4< Eat it ! I ll eat nothing in this house !" 
 
 " We ll see to that," 
 
 " State of South Carolina " resumed the deputy. 
 
 " Seize him," cried Porgy " seize him !" 
 
 And, in the twinkling of an eye, Frampton caught Crooks in 
 his embrace, and Millhouse set his enormous thumb and forefin 
 ger about his neck, and the deputy was forced back into his 
 chair. The paper was snatched by the lieutenant from his hand. 
 
 " In the name of the state !" screamed the deputy. 
 
 " Feed him with it !" shouted Porgy. 
 
 " I levy and seize, distrein and take possession -" began the 
 deputy at a rapid rate, but his mouth was suddenly filled with 
 his documents. The execution was crammed into his jaws a 
 part of it at least ; and the voice of the sergeant, in accents too 
 clear and loud to be misunderstood, advised him what to do 
 with it. 
 
 " Feed or suffocate, you skunk." 
 
 " You re choking me to death !" 
 
 " Feed, then ! Chaw ! Swallow !" And, at every word, the 
 sergeant plied the unhappy deputy, with a fragment of the ex 
 ecution. It was in vain that he flounced and floundered, strove, 
 kicked, and scuffled with his persecutor. The iron arm of Mill- 
 house was seconded with an equally iron will, and, perforce, tho 
 victim was compelled to chew and mouth the musty document. 
 
 " My God ! do you mean to kill me ?" 
 
 N )t unless good feeding will do it. You love the law, you live 
 
\ !"[ . 
 
 
 
 on it, ami ought to be able to digest it. Give him anothei mouth 
 
 ful, sergeant. It must all be eaten. It is not too much for one 
 meal." 
 
 With every l>it offered, and finally forced upon the deputy, 
 tin- same struggle followed, the same unavailing resistance, i!" 
 \\as compelle. Nothing hut the seal remained. This 
 
 :.ot then the fiction which it is in recent times. It was not 
 then thought [Uife sum cient to \\ rito. lorus xi //// , and with 
 hold the seal itself. In the present rase this 
 
 cubtr plate of red wax, .imensimis. It was now offered 
 
 t<> the umvilli: ht >f it the i elh.w cried ut 
 
 with horr-.r -" I ean 1 QAl lhat ! It ll he the death of me. It s 
 got p<>;-in in it." 
 
 "Ah! ha! is il so. And do yon bring p ison into a L:e itle- 
 man s family, and try to ^arvr it on him. Well, it s only yi>ur 
 own medicire, my honey ; y.u i.just eat it with the rest. The 
 jli\ sic of a law paper kai; I with 
 
 it Bite! Kat! n r I ll " 
 
 Pmt for the interposition of the captain, the sergeant would ! 
 ]M".-s stel ill t(stiug to the ntmo.st the caj.;: -f<mi- 
 
 ach. Fortunately, the former was disposed to nioi e indul--. 
 
 "Let him oil ," said he, "he s had enough. N 
 
 Jamaica; or, perhaps, \ ou ll jirefer an emetic, my <j;>;<\ i rllow, 
 to produce reaction. I can have you a little tartar in a second." 
 
 "No! no ! * cried Crooks with chob nts "Tlu; mm! 
 
 the rum !" 
 
 The liquor was poured out for him, and the glass put into his 
 hands; as he was ahoiit to drink, Millhousu exclaimed 
 
 "Ha! ha! 1 know d you d hev to come to it at last. You 
 swore you wouldn t eat or drink in this house. You ve done 
 hoth !" 
 
 The taunt was enough. The deputy dashed down the un- 
 tasted liquor, smashing the glass upon the floor. 
 
 "Curse the house!" he cried, "and all that s in it!" and sha 
 king his hand in fury, lie hroke through all restraint, and disap 
 peared from the apartment. 
 
 "After him, boys, and see that he clears out. Attend him to 
 the outposts,. Lajice! He will hardly venture back with othei 
 documents/ 
 
M KEWN AT HOME. 453 
 
 CHAPTER LIX. 
 
 M KEWN AT HOME, AND THE SPECTRE THAT SIPPED HIS PUNCH. 
 
 THE captain had not fairly lost sigh.t of the deputy before he 
 fcegan to reflect upon the enormity of the offence which he had 
 sanctioned and committed. It was not so much that he had out 
 raged the laws of the land, as that he had violated those of hu 
 manity. He began to feel ashamed of this, for, when not carried 
 away by impulse, he would have revolted at everything like bru 
 tality, unless, as in the case of actual conflict in war, it took the 
 form of a necessity. His successful jest with the sheriff, which 
 had proved harmless, had prompted a renewal of the experiment; 
 and, once committed to the joke, he had been hurried on by his 
 first impulse, long after the matter had ceased to be mirthful. 
 Though he said nothing of his misgivings to his companions, he 
 yet felt very much ashamed of the affair, when the time had 
 come for reflection. We may add that he did not, on this occa 
 sion, ride over to report the adventure to the fair widow. He 
 would rather, indeed, that it should not reach her ears from any 
 lips. But it got abroad nevertheless. 
 
 Crooks, as soon as he could mount his horse hurried at full speed 
 over to M Kewn s, to whom, boiling with fury, he described the 
 whole affair. It did not need the exaggerations of language to 
 render it hideous. M Kewn was secretly pleased at the occur 
 rence. It fastened an odium upon our partisan, whose patriotic 
 services had otherwise made him popular. It left him more at 
 the mercy of his creditor, by depriving him of those sympathies 
 which his distresses would certainly have secured for him. But, 
 M Kewn did not suffer his secret thoughts, on this head, to 
 reach the ears of the deputy. His indignation at the treatment 
 which he had suffered, was expressed in language as warm and 
 violent almost as his own, and, giving him a douceur of five 
 guineas, he despatched him, the next day, with a letter to the 
 sheriff, renewing his demand upon him for the immediate com 
 pliance with his duties. 
 
DCRAFT. 
 
 The sheriff was naturally angry at the ill usage of Ms deputy. 
 There was a groat sensation in the city. Pinckney and Parsons, 
 the friends and lawyers of Porgy, were in much confusion. They 
 endeavored all they could at the arts of soothing. The shaving 
 of the deputy they made very light of. Indeed, they affirmed it 
 to he an act of kindness. The procedure, they insisted, had 
 groatly improved Crooks s appearance; hut the matter was quite 
 too serious to ho. laughed out of court; and such BSttOfl 
 
 made Crooks, himself, more angry than ever. They found it 
 politic, according! v, to forhoar this mode of treating the aiVair. 
 The compulsory feeding to which the deputy had hcen subject- 
 <.<l_tlio, utter scorn and defiance of the law which had hcen 
 shown hy Pnrgy -Mid his followers trerOMrioUl >!Vonoes against 
 the peace and dignity of the country, which nio>l pei>..i:s were 
 inclined to resent. The sheriiV talked of immediate pfOtt 
 of arrest of the y*m.w romffafux, of a military force, and of 
 terrihlo ponaltios. forfeitures, and imprisonments ! 
 
 To gain time was now the object with Pi.rgy - friends, until 
 the public indignation should subside; and they brought overv 
 possible iniluence to hoar, which might, in any way, etl ect their 
 purpose. It, happened, fortunately, that Marion and Colonel 
 Singleton were hi.th in the city, and hoth anxiously busied them 
 selves to rescue an old favorite and follower from his difficulties, 
 r riiey appealed to the sheriff for delay, at least until the aiVair 
 could he inquired into peaceably. M Kewn sdebt must 1 e satis 
 fied, of course; for this several parties \\.MV prepared to pledge 
 themselves; and it was supposed that the hurts of Crooks 
 might all he cured by a suthYiont salve, in the guise of hush-mon 
 ey. These matters arranged, the irritated self-esteem of the 
 sheriff might he soothed, and the damage done to the dignity of 
 the laws might be repaired as is commonly the case in a good 
 democracy hy taking no sort of notice of it. With us, you 
 may pull the nose of the law, at pleasure, but you must be pre 
 pared to pay well for any such liberty taken with the nose of 
 its officer. Crooks, as yet, was quite unapproachable on the 
 subject of his wrongs and injuries. It was supposed by Pinckney 
 that he would continue unapproachable, until beard and whiskers 
 had once more grown out to their former ravishing dimensions. 
 Meanwhile, all proper efforts should be made to mollify him; 
 
M KEWN AT HOME. 456 
 
 and, to effect this, Pinckney himself prepared to lun up to 
 Asheepoo, and see the captain, in order to bring him to reason- 
 able apologies. 
 
 These negotiations necessarily occupied some time, during 
 which Glen-Eberley was left free of molestation. The sergeant 
 congratulated himself that a victory had been obtained. Porgy 
 was less sure and satisfied. He had sobered down from his late 
 excitement, and could see the state of affairs through the proper 
 medium. He saw that the time would come when he should pay 
 for his frolic ; but, like most persons of his temperament, he pre 
 ferred to postpone the consideration of the affair till the last mo 
 ment until, indeed it was forced upon him. Winter, meanwhile 
 was advancing rapidly. The nights of November were becoming 
 very cold. Our captain of partisans was now in the full enjoy 
 ment of field sports, and was proving himself quite a Nimrod. 
 II is corpulence did not seem to lessen his appetite, or his vigor 
 in the chase. Arthur Eveleigh, sensible of his fault, had become 
 measurably reconciled to the captain, and he and Lance Framp- 
 ton met at Glen-Eberley, once a Aveek at least, to hunt. Porgy s 
 sports, however, in the field, did not lessen the number of his 
 visits to the two widows. He was still, as before not to speak 
 disparagingly of the sex in our comparisons betwixt hawk and 
 buzzard. This homely figure was one frequently in the mouth 
 of the sergeant, in reference to the attitude of his superior, though 
 lie did not venture to obtrude it upon the ears of the captain. 
 Both widows still seemed very gracious, and their looks of favor 
 increased the impatience of Millhouse to effect his long cherished 
 object. 
 
 " You might have either on em, I reckon, for the axing," 
 quoth the sergeant ; " though it s cl ar that the widow Eb leigh 
 is the most loving critter of the two. It s a needcessity, cappin, 
 that shfj should hev you." 
 
 The frequent iteration of this assurance, finally made its im 
 pression upon our captain; but, though half persuaded only, 
 that Mrs. Eveleigh labored under the " needcessity" aforesaid, 
 he felt, as a man of honor, that he could not approach her as 
 suitor, until he had paid her his debt at all events, having ex 
 tricated himself from the meshes of the law. " Then," -^ he 
 thought ; but it is proper we should not anticipate ! 
 
4f/; WOODCRAFT. 
 
 Meanwhile, wbat of the inexorable creditor, M K wu ? Housed 
 at his })l;uitation like the groat Mack spider, to which we have 
 already likened him. surrounded hy subtle snares of policy, and 
 slv devices, and meshes of cunning, for taking in and securing 
 tin- thoughtless ilies of humanity for making prey of all ho 
 could he crouched in -eeming quiet, most of the, time unbeheld, 
 in secret crevice, and when seen, seeming only to drowse, in the 
 central circle of his innocent encampment. He v, Htly 
 
 satisfied with his progresses. What, with his own art, and l*oi- 
 ash impulses, he felt that he had fairly involved that great 
 est of all his flies in a mesh from which th< 
 All of his schemes appeared to pro>per. Other victims W61 
 his snares. Hi- money bred as if under the direc* management 
 of Mammon as if Mammon had hee<.me his privat. 
 and determined his loans and enterprises. !!< had made a g 
 v-rop, and rice was rising in the market. He had hought, at 
 moderate prices, a lot of /;/ g, from the coast of Guinea, 
 
 from a virtuous puritan captain, of Rhode I-hmd. who had gleaned 
 wonderfully from the gold coast, and wh" . by- 
 
 the-way. has since shown himself a virtuous ;;ho!itionist in the 
 senate of the United States, breathing hate and horror toward 
 the descendants of the very people to whom his philantl. 
 grand-sire sold the stolen in All M K eulations 
 
 seemed to he prosperous. All his apprehensions of Mrs. Kv - 
 leigh were relaxed in her continued silence. lie, had got 
 his fears of her, in the conviction which he felt that the .-eas rolled 
 forever between himself and the squatter 1 ostwick perhaps, 
 rolled over him; a fate which he preferred for his enemy, anu 
 which he rather thought he must have, suffered, since he had no 
 reason to doubt of the sagacity and fidelity of his creatures, 
 Forbes, Urummond, and Barton. 
 
 Thus, with all his fears at rest, all his fortunes prosperous, all 
 his victims in his meshes, all his enemies horn <!< < f nnlat, M Kcwn 
 yielded himself up to his pleasures. Shall not his soul take its 
 peace at last ; shall he not reward himself for long abstinence 
 and self-denial ; shall he not feel himself in his place and power, 
 in due self-atonement for a long and tedious career of sycophan 
 cy, and base submission to the moods of others ? M Kewn s 
 best mode of reasoning taught him no higher aim or nobler pin- 
 
\PKEWN AT HOME. 457 
 
 losopliy than this. lie was prepared now to take his case at his 
 kin ! He was preparing to look about him for a wife, such as a 
 fortune, great as his, might reasonably command. He .would 
 have been pleased to lift the widow Eveleigh into that honored 
 station ; but the last interview which he had enjoyed with that 
 lady, taught him the utter hopelessness of that object taught 
 him farther, that, though she could by no means establish the 
 truth legally against him, she was yet morally possessed of evi 
 dence the most conclusive of his guilt. He kept needfully from 
 her sight accordingly ; while, under a new impulse, young Ar 
 thur, whom he had labored industriously to corrupt, kept as heed- 
 fully from his. 
 
 Thus, apparently secure, thus measurably happy satisfied 
 with himself and his successes, or striving to be so M Kewn 
 took his ease at his plantation, or wore, to other eyes, the ap 
 pearance of one who did so. He lived well, sought the neigh 
 boring planters, emulated their hospitality, was frequently a vis- 
 iter abroad, and as frequently entertained his guests at home. 
 He gave good dinners, indulged in choice wines, and, being a .man 
 of the world, who had enjoyed a considerable experience, and 
 was naturally intelligent, he proved, in most cases, a very excel 
 lent companion among the persons whom he was pleased to seek. 
 
 It was a cold and cloudy day, late in November, when a party 
 dined with him. They were all good fellows, the dinner was 
 served up in excellent style, the wines were fine, the dessert i\ 
 good taste, and the enjoyment of all parties extreme. They 
 sat late they drank freely. It was a bachelor s establish 
 ment, and song and story spelled the intervals between the sev 
 eral pledges. Soon, the wines gave way to stronger liquors. 
 Old mm and fiery French brandy and genuine Scotch whiskey 
 took the place, upon the board, of more courtly spirits. M Kewn 
 was famous at hot whiskey punch, and felt a sort of national 
 pride and pleasure, presiding, with an antique Scottish bowl be 
 fore him, of immense size, and the wooden ladle of curious carv 
 ing in his grasp, and the little silver tankard smoking before 
 each guest while their lips smacked with delight, and their 
 tongues grew thick with the language of unintelligible compli 
 ment the more grateful as unintelligible. The company dis 
 perse! al a tolerably late hour, eoimr home with no conscious- 
 
458 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 ness r,f dark or danger, shouting as they went, and fortonato in 
 
 driveis, or horses, who had enjoyed IK, Mich pleasant privi! 
 of punch as themselves. M K.v.i was left a) fan 
 
 cies, lie summoned the Servants, ordered that the remai 
 the vessel of punch should he taken into lii.s chamber, and, 
 having been already kindled then 1 . r : .ither himself. 
 
 The night was (lark and cold, hut ihe room wa> bright an 1 
 waiin. Too hriglit, was the th.ni-ht f M Keun, >h:ce h. 
 tiii. .uished the wax candles both, which tl 
 ing, satisfied with tin- Miliicient blaZC of the li^htu "d I 
 ca>t upm the lire, and (.( which ai: . 
 
 alwavs in a lnx upon the hearth. M Kewn sat in f mni .-! the 
 lire, his ;-l;ppered i\ et presented to the blaze. 11 : f ins 
 
 \\eic decidedly comfortable. He iraa in ;,t:liience ; his health 
 
 -.;od ; he was yet a comparatively yning man ; nt !;. 
 tlie .sunny side of lifty. He mi-ht rea>,nahly cah-ulaN , ai 
 in-- to i-xirfting probabilides, n}>on a h-n^ term nf iMij"ynicnt. In 
 
 of the awkward doubts in certain <jnarter>, i 
 I oiiiinand iety. If he could nut claim entrance hit 
 
 circle, lie ha-1 .; verv tdiTalde rel uge in another. Jle had 
 wealth, and wealth can always buy society, though it may com 
 mand neither real respect, nor affection, I m- its ] The 
 people who had spent the day with him were all people < : 
 cellcnt standing. Good fellowship made them flexible. ! 
 Hieered at M Kewn himself; but they entertained a very genu 
 ine respect for his dinners. There \\ ere some of them who aimed 
 at something boyund his dinners who, perhaps, would scarcely 
 have permitted themselves to dine with him but for their occult 
 objects. These persons had maiden sifters or daughters, of a 
 rare and virtuous antiquity, whom, for their especial claims to 
 admiration, they desired to see framed in settings of gold. They 
 patronized M Kewn to this end no more. The Scotchman 
 readily saw through their schemes, grinned in secret over their 
 absurdities, but did not discourage those hopes by which he se 
 cured himself in good society. Sitting by his now solitary hearth, 
 he mused with great complacency, thinking upon these and oth- 
 br matters. The affair of Porgy and the deputy sheriff had 
 been brought upon the tarns during the do,y, and had been dis 
 cussed with great frankness on both sides ot tlie question, as in 
 
M KEJVN 4T HOME. 459 
 
 the way commonly with our Impulsive planters )f the parish 
 country. Some of them, most desirous of conciliating M Kewn, 
 were loud in their denunciation of the violent and illegal pro 
 ceedings of the captain of partisans. Others chuckled over it as 
 a rare and admirable jest which furnished quite an excellent ex 
 ample to all future creditors. Others went further, and, moved 
 by very earnest sympathies with the debtor, professed to regard 
 any innovation of a man s household, on the part of a creditor, 
 or his legal representative, to be a most impertinent intrusion, 
 justifying any severity of treatment. M Kewn heard all, and 
 smiled in all directions, satisfied, at the close, to say, in a costive 
 manner 
 
 ."Let him settle with the sheriff as he may, gentlemen; ho 
 will have to settle with me! He may struggle, but can t escape 
 me. In three months, at least, there will be an end of him, and 
 the jest will be on the other side. They always laugh who win; 
 and if the loser has the mood to laugh, why, we may safely suffer 
 him to indulge it." 
 
 And it was with this conviction of ultimate conquest, the 
 final overthrow of his insolent debtor that M Kcwn would 
 chuckle to himself, sipping at his whiskey-punch the while. Of 
 this popular beverage, whose virtues lie always below the surface, 
 and penetrate much more than skin deep, M Kewn had a snug 
 silver pitcher, long necked, of vase fashion, and silver lidded, 
 standing conveniently beside him on a table; moderate meas 
 ures were poured out as he wanted it, into the tumbler beside 
 him. He stirred and sipped, and, tumbler still in hand, drew 
 nigher to the blaze; and, after a little while, and as his feet began 
 too much to warm before the fire, he threw them up against the 
 mantelpiece, throwing them wide apart, so that the whole pano 
 rama of the fire, the smouldering ruins, the blazing piles, were 
 all present to his eye through the frame work of his parted 
 thighs. His head was cast back, the lids of his eyes drawn 
 down ; he watched the fire as through a microscope, taking in 
 its small details. His chair, a heavy one of mahogany, with a 
 great back, was nicely balanced on its hind legs. The tumbler, 
 half filled with the grateful beverage, was as nicely balanced in 
 his hands. His mind had reached that condition of repose which 
 brings about pleasant reveries, M Kewn saw his future through 
 
460 WOODCR \FT. 
 
 a magic mcdirm. His oner ^n-wn, n s cmrrso was 
 
 triumphant, his wealth underwent hourly . the mag; 
 
 of the land wore subservient, be himself i 
 and his eye had only to determine which of tin- several bea 
 at his service, he should chouse, to make his world a.? Eden. 
 
 Ilappv M Kewn ! The fates are husy alwa; with 
 
 pleasant . inclines those whom they would involve beyond their 
 ilej)ths. Somctin - k would appear suddenly on the 
 
 of iiis magic mirnr. a slight cloud ; r if, a lurid : 
 
 and lie could fancy distant thunder in other words, : 
 
 y and the widow Kveloigh, and the hateful ! 
 other persons, v.-ould recall to him suddenly a train of subjects 
 B t> fear or dillicr. 1 - I Kewn found it e:i\ to dis- 
 
 j l.tru^ive shadows, simply l-\ ;ijipeal to 
 
 the warm whiskey-punch hr>idr hi how 
 
 S.M.II, after this .-uiplicatiou, the speck and cloud would disappear 
 from the ma^ric mirror which his fancy had polished so well for 
 his contemplation. 
 
 Thus sitting, musing, dreaming, in that doubtful sort of eon- 
 sciousness which serms to be eonally distant from absolute 
 or waking, M Kewn thought In- beludd the waving of an arm 
 and hand hef.re his half-shut eye. Hi 1 fam-ied that S-MIH- 
 had taken up the beaker of punch which, having sipped a little 
 of the contents, he had ju^t sot down. But his energies wove fast 
 yielding beneath the sluggish happiness of his dreamy i 
 and, though somewhat conscious of a movement, and even <-f a 
 BOtind, he dismissed it a- a natural suggestion of his rovery 
 and never turned his head. A moment mav have elapsed, or 
 more, when, suddenly, a hand was laid heavily upon his shoulder. 
 lie unclosed his eyes, and stared, lie w; s paralysed. \Yas it 
 true was it a dream ? Did he reallv behold the infernal suuat- 
 tor, Bostwick, once more ? or was it his drowned, thrice damned, 
 and ever haunted and haunting ghost, emerging from the depth:- 
 of the green sea, and following him on the m : ic Mries! 
 
 \Vas it the hand of a spectre or a living man that still i 
 upon his shoulder. Was there mortal speculation in those < ; ei\ 
 red eyes that now stared terrifically down into his ? 
 
THE SQUATTER S VOYHiE TO THE vVEST 
 
 JHAPTER LX. 
 
 FIOW THK SQUATTER MADE THE VOYAGE TO THE WEST INDIRS 
 
 IN the sight of M Kewn nothing could be more distinct, more 
 life-like than the spectre. He looked just as lie had seen him a 
 thousand times before; the same great red staring eyes, the same 
 expression in the face, of a mixed savage and cunning nature, 
 sly at once and desperate ; the same small but sinewy figure ; 
 the 1 same lounging, slovenly carriage ; the same person alto 
 gether, except, perhaps, that each vicious quality of his face was 
 exaggerated ; the grin upon his mouth was more satyr-like ; his 
 eyes were blood-shot ; his cheeks mottled with the long con 
 tinued habit of intemperance: his skin bronzed to a copper, yet 
 flushed as with the hues of a warm sunset. Was he indeed a 
 spectre? Had the grave given up the dead? Had the seas 
 thrown up their victim? Did the spectator really dream or not? 
 
 M Kewn closed his eyes, and again opened them, thinking the 
 fearful presence might then be gone. There it stood, and he 
 could no longer doubt the solid pressure of its grasp upon his 
 shoulder. The Scotchman was paralyzed. Dead or living, the 
 appearance of Bostwick was now a terror. M Kewn was almost 
 in a state of collapse. The cold sweat, had silently streamed out 
 upon his face, his neck, his breast, his whole body. His feet, 
 thrown up against the mantelpiece, sank down to the floor nerve-* 
 less; his lips parted, but not for speech; only in silent con 
 sternation. But his frozen gaze never once fell from that of his 
 fearful visitor. There, in utter silence, the one stood, the other 
 sat, gazing full upon each other. Bostwick seemed to take a 
 malignant pleasure in fixing and fastening the other s eyes, as 
 if with a serpent s fascination. After a little while he slowly 
 withdrew his hand, and coolly turning to the table, filled him 
 self a stoup of the whiskey-punch from the silver vessel,, into 
 the tumbler which M Kewn had used, and swallowed the contents 
 
VTOODCBAPT, 
 
 ,il a single gulp. Hf laid the tumbler down, then extended his opt/, 
 palm 
 
 "That hundred guineas, M Kc\\n: " 
 
 The spell wa> broken a> he spoke. M Kewn began to r< 
 cover. 
 
 Why, where have yu been all this time. IJostwick? " 
 
 "AYhere did y<-u recken i \<\ the bottom of the e? 
 
 In hll s bla/.es didn t you, and warn t you mighty -lad to think 
 Hut h 11 ain t hot enough for either on us yit, and when 1 
 had my la^t talk with the devil, he promiM d m<\ a- h -w, \\hei: 
 he did come f.-r me, he ll take \ <u at tl time. Hut IK 
 
 don t want us yit. lie - got more w.-rk for both on us on thi> 
 airth. You was intiivly wrong, M Kewn. in trying to i:it rid of 
 me. V.-ii kaint do without me. no more than I kin do without 
 you. We re b<>ni l "r e.vh i.tlu-r. and \\ \e gO( t" work t<>"Hhrr ;i 
 Inni: time t" 
 
 " 1 iiit wh -re have you ]., 
 
 r.etternot :d\! Not rd/.irtly whar you wanted me to go, but 
 on the edge, M 1 may -ay. I looked in at the d<-or. di.ln t 
 like the looks of it. thr <-ommydations tliey offered me, and 
 turned short round. h was a question wnether I should 
 or your friends. Drummond. and Barton, ami F<>rbes the eai.j.in, 
 or me. I rerkt-n d the l.Ml-in s would bett--r -uit them than me. 
 
 I let them take my plaee. | he\ r>- ::"}\r with th<- .le-pateln 
 made out for me. 
 
 " What : an? What de<pat< i 
 
 "Oh! you kno\\ . what it \\as you meant 
 
 them to do tor me. liut the devil, h Come to my help, and 
 made tin- sai vice ei ar. They got tin- pn-1 erener. and I ^riti up 
 ])laee to Vm." 
 
 What place? When- are p 
 
 "In h 11, cf you wants to know; they ll never trouble yu 
 nor me no more. The devil put the eh ice before me either 
 them to burn or me to dr 1 I didn t want three minutes 
 
 to eonsider. I knov, d they d have to irit usen to tire in tim<- to 
 eome, so I thought the sooner they heiran to 1 arn the feel of it, 
 the better for them." 
 
 "In the name of God, Bostwick. what do you mean? What have 
 you done?" 
 
THE SQUATTER S VOYAGE TO THE WEST INDIES. 463 
 
 "You re mighty slow to onderstand, these times. That s from 
 Sieving such a world of money. What should I mean ? Your friends 
 took me out to sea " 
 
 " Is it possible! Took you to sea ?" 
 
 " Shet up, and don t lie to me. Tain t no use, M Kewn. I 
 know you like a book. We knows one another. Twarn t on 
 sea that they were the good fellows they was on laud. When 
 we was in the castle, and under the green trees, we was friends, 
 and all on equal tairms. We played cards together, and some 
 times they dreaned me, and sometimes I dreaned them. At sea 
 the natur changed. I was a man of the woods ; they made me 
 a man of the sea. I could climb trees ; they made me climb 
 ropes. It was no play tliar ; all work ; they didn t wait to win 
 my money, by a fair seven-up. They tuk it from me by main 
 strength of hand. Then I got the cat! The cat! You knows, I 
 reckon, what they calls the cat ? " 
 
 M Kewn professed to be ignorant. 
 
 "You ve got to 1 arn it. I ve promised Old Nick to do his 
 work, on the very condition that, when he gets us both, he lets 
 me treat you to the cat every night ; so that you may lie down 
 with a sartain softness in your feelin s, that ain t altogether 
 sweetness. That cat which they gin to me has left its claw- 
 marks on every inch of my back and body. But that warn t 
 enough for em. AVhen they got right off the place called Bar- 
 badoes, they holds a eounciltation over me. What s to be done 
 with me what s to be done for you and they grees mong 
 their three selves, that the best things for both on us, is to send me 
 over into the sea, to look after the great whale that swallowed Jony, 
 the Philistian prophet 
 
 " Impossible ! Did they really mean to 
 
 " Oh ! shet up. Lying won t do twixt us, kaise, you see, 
 we knows one another, M Kewn, and we ve got to work together, 
 by solemn contractings. For the old horned Satan. Well, thar 
 was the land, jest. oiT thar ; and the night was a-coming on, and 
 the sea was deep, and the shirks was a-playiug about, and look 
 ing upward to the ship with all-fired hungry noses. And the 
 eounciltation of Forbes, and Drummond, and Barton, went on ; 
 and they said these poor shirks must be fed ; and this poor Bost- 
 wick will give em mighty good feeding for a time ; and when 
 
464 wool > :; \ IT. 
 
 he s gone we ll get the hundred guinea- from M Kewn in ; 
 of him, and we mu-t get -het of him to-night ; and 
 
 dilation went on. But the devil Mood my friend. ;i!i.l lie liid 
 me where I could hear ail the coonciltalion ; and when they had 
 done, he said to me Now, lit, \vhelh-r you re to drown, or 
 they to burn. It - for you to choose. Th. 
 
 the -hirksa wailing for your supper : and the m v 11 about 
 
 midnight, and then its fur you to try the cold fed of the 
 water, and B6 how deej> it is. and lind out ef thar s any big 
 whale to take you in. like .Jony. tin- IMiil phet, ami 
 
 you from the >hirks. Kf you waii> to 
 
 the water s your portion, and the bottom of the sea, whar thar s 
 no bottom. And when the hriganti: ,|i to the town in 
 
 the mornin::. they ll report <M. !! over! 
 
 night and lo>t, from taking too much lirpr that 
 
 they gin me none, and I was -harp a- a the devil 
 
 Mhar s one way \<> L r it out of danger. And he vji-.we-il me 
 three kflgfl ..f gunpowder \\hrn- they \\ ! a\\ay: and 
 
 he |, .Id me. what ;. eu rdl- to me to Tarn, thai i f that 
 
 gunpowder only happened to git the l.ctle-t i.< tire, it 
 
 would lly like old bla/e-. and carry e\er\! (l .dy up into he.-.v.-n. 
 That was miu lity cu r^u-, I thu Imwed me further, 
 
 how a thing moiit be managi-d. called a train. and how a man 
 setting in a boat out>ide of the ship, might just touch the lire to 
 the train, push olT, and see the >hip sail up in the air. much 
 quicker than >he ever sailed through the water. Well. 
 I thought that was better -port than to ake the \\ater m 
 and s arch for Jony s whale; and with the help of Old Horny 
 I tried it and. sure enough, oil she went, ship and all, and the 
 counsulters. and a small chaince.f pusaODfl niir-:anil lie j 
 found me on the beach, and who know . -t thar V They said 
 
 1 was blowed lhar by the gunpowder; and now M Kewn that < re 
 hundred guineas!" 
 
THAT HUXD11ED GUINEAS. 465 
 
 CHAPTEE LXI. 
 
 THAT HUNDRED GUINEAS! 
 
 IT was easy for M Kewn, even with this hurried and imper 
 fect statement of the squatter, to gather the whole history of his 
 enforced voyage, and the horrible catastrophe by which it was 
 terminated. The cool and savage deliberation with which it 
 was delivered, did not, however, produce any of those revolting 
 and crushing sensations in the mind of the hearer, which might 
 have risen in that of any person of sensibility. M Kewn, like 
 his companion, was callous and cold-blooded; of so raijk a self 
 ishness, that sensibility had long since ceased to ^oppose any bar 
 riers to cupidity; and whose shows of humanity shows only 
 were simply employed in deference to society, and with the view 
 the better to promote the objects of his desire. Instead of shud 
 dering and shrinking at what he heard, he was employed in re 
 covering the subdued and scattered forces of his mind, in order 
 to encounter the struggle which the reappearance of the squatter 
 necessarily threatened. He knew the fellow too well to suppose 
 that IK; should get off without a conflict, and felt that he was too 
 well understood by him, to render available any of the ordinary 
 arts of imposition. The terms upon which they stood, in regard 
 to each other, were such that neither found it of any use to ef- 
 ! < < virtues which he did not possess. They had only to treat 
 of crime and its reward, as of any matter of legitimate business. 
 Any declaration of surprise, any avowals of good faith, or sym 
 pathy, would, he well knew, be utterly wasted on the ears of a 
 person who knew him quite too well to be imposed upon any 
 longer. Accordingly, wilh a manner the most unconcerned, M Kewn, 
 after a brief p.v. .se, remarked 
 
 " And that was the way you got rid of them?" 
 
 "Yes; jest so. It was short and quick, and we had no quai- 
 rel. It was a private counciliation on both sides, them three on 
 one side, and Old Horny and me on t other. They were three 
 to two, but we were a little too much of a match for em. It 
 
 20* 
 
4Gb WOODCRAFT. 
 
 turned out famous well for inc. The people i.-f Rarhau 
 a Hi scriptioii for me, and that filled my pockets and I got honu 1 
 with a free passage, and didn t hev any much work to do : 
 though I did a leetle to please the eappin. Tain t (jiiite foul 
 days sence I got to Charleston, and I pushed up here knowing 
 you d be mighty glad t< hear of your fi Sends, and how you 
 wouldn t hev to till their pouches any more. I reckon it s a 
 great gain to you, the lo>s of tin in men. 
 
 "Gain! I: to me of thousands. I owned one third 
 
 of that vessel and cargo. 1 owned sixty-nine of the negroes in 
 her." 
 
 " Diccance ! I ll hev to low their valley out of the amount 
 you i>\M-s inr. then. It s only fair ! Let me see : thai swh.it 
 you owed me afore I v, nit to B68 ; ue ll reckon tliat at a thou 
 sand guineas; thar s the carrying me to iea agin my will, and 
 only to pleasure you; that I rallies at live thousand guiiivM.; 
 more, and cheap at that, I tell you; but we ll -..y fne tlioe 
 that s six thousand. Then, thar s tin scare I had from the 
 shirks and the drowning, all on your account ; that ought fo he 
 a thousand guineas more ; then, thar s the .Celling mv soul to the 
 Old Horny, to get out of the hands of them fellows. A free 
 white man s soul ought to lie worth something, a:;d we ll call it 
 a thousand guineas more ; that makes eight thousand ; then, 
 thar s the onhappiness I had to skyrocket them three g.nnl fel 
 lows to heaven ; that was a great onhappine, and ! valley my 
 sulYeiia s mighty high; hut we ll say two th.-u.-and guineas 
 more; and that, in round numhers, will he. ten thousand guineas; 
 and, out <>f that. I m to low for them sixty-nine niggers of yur -n 
 that went up in the skyrocketing. I reckon they mout he ral 
 lied at fifty guineas apiece: how much is that in all? Count 
 up, jM Kewn, I m guinc to low for all." 
 
 " Pshaw ! What are you talking about ?" 
 
 What em J talking about ? I ll tell you, and you may jest 
 pick your ears that you may hear it plain. Thar s an account 
 of life and death to settle atween us, M Kewn, that may be set 
 tied up with money, ef you ve the scnsb to ondcrstand what s 
 best for you. You ll pay it out of your pocket, ef you re sensi 
 ble ; ef you re a fool, it comes out of your heart. To pay for it 
 in money, won t drean your pocket ; to pay for it in blood, will 
 
THAT HUNDRED GUINEAS. 467 
 
 go nigh to drean your body of all it s got. I kn, ws what I say?> 
 I knows that I kin hang you jest when I pleases, and I don t 
 own you any love that I should keep my hands off. But I kin 
 sell my hate and my love together. Everything I ve got is to 
 sell, cf so l>o I m well paid for it ; and you must buy from me 
 at my prices, or I ll bankcorrupt you, as they calls it. You ll 
 hev to feed me and find me, me and my fam ly, my wKo and 
 my children, jest so long as you lives and we lives; and you ll 
 hev to feed us well ; and to begin, I m a-wanting jest one hun 
 dred guineas to-night, and next week, I ll be a-wanting, prehaps, 
 a hundred more. I m guirie to buy property; I m guifie into a 
 speculation for the good of my fam ly. You hear it all. I put 
 it plain before you. It s jest for you to say whether it s peace 
 or war; fair tarrns or foul; money or blood !" 
 
 This was all plain enough, delivered in a manner the most 
 downright and direct, the squatter confronting the Scotchman at 
 the distance of a single pace, and his hand flourishing at mo 
 ments in the very face of the latter. When he had finished 
 speaking, he again turned to the whiskey punch, unasked, and 
 repeated his draught. 
 
 M Kewn listened with chilled sensations. He understood but 
 too well the existing terms between himself and his enemy. He 
 saw that nothing had been exaggerated in the speech of the 
 squatter. The latter truly had him at his mercy ; and he felt 
 that he was destined to continue exactions, so long as Bostwick 
 or himself should live. There was no evasion of the incumbrance, 
 and the time was gone by, utterly, when the employee could be 
 put off or deceived. He had no remaining subterfuges against 
 a foe so wily, and so well-informed in respect to his character. 
 Meanwhile, the squatter seemed to amuse himself surveying the 
 apartment, which was large, lofty, highly finished, richly hung 
 with drapery, and with fine pictures hanging against the walls. 
 A sabre, between a pair of silver-mounted pistols, was among 
 these decorations. The squatter s eye took in all. 
 
 " You re a-living like a fighting cock, M Kewn," said he, with 
 a ctigagcc air that was quite distressing to the Scotchman, and 
 served to increase his irritation. " Now, I m a-wanting to live 
 easy and like a fighting cock, too, but don t you think I m a- 
 wanting to hev sich fine things i 1 ! my cabin They doesn t suit 
 
468 > OCR A IT. 
 
 eicli as me, and agin, I doesn t care to hev* fin. What I wants 
 is a sartainty for myself, and f -r I>"iy. That s all; anil the 
 sartainty must be a respectable one, A nice 1 little house and 
 farm, and, prehaps, two or three nigg- .k in the field, and 
 
 an old woman to cook, and a gal to i >f waiting-maid to 
 
 little Dory." 
 
 To this, M Kewn only answered with an "All! Well ! 
 Ye-!" hut his eyes followed the movements of the squatter with 
 an intensity of interest which gave them a wild 
 Meanwhile, though st.- : tit, with an air of inebriate har 
 
 dihood and indifference, tha! Beema fill of not! 
 
 the squatter migl.t 1 6 v Q I .-eh mi the Scotch- 
 
 man, which nei him; 
 
 l.ut this was not pi-rceptibh- to M K-wn. Highly . 
 own reflections upon the desp -ra e bondage in uhich lie felt him- 
 .-tdf plaee 1. tli-- usual vigilance of this COM! an 
 
 :ed. Hi- - r-d to hind him B 
 
 what at the \ny moment when . ult\ should h.ivr, heen 
 
 most aeul i and observant. His thoughts, undr 
 
 influence of t! i. AVa> 
 
 there no escape from the a; 
 lie plagued perpetually without any h : 
 
 tor ever to he made to fear for his secret, particularly now, when, 
 this danger (juiete.i, his position in Hf, night 
 
 become altogether triumphant. 
 
 It was past midnight. The house was i|iiiet. The 
 were all retired and asleep. Nobody had seen the squatter en 
 ter. Nobody knew of his visit. The rain was now falling 
 heavily; the winds beat sullenly against the shutter. Night 
 and storm were auxiliaries to a deed of blood. Why should lu 
 not quiet the foe for ever, by a single blow ? Why not, b\ 
 sudden, desperate deed, relieve himself for ever from this haunt 
 ing, harrowing arrogance ; this perpetual danger, which promised 
 never to suffer him to repose in security ? His eye rested upon 
 the pistols which hung upon the wall. They were both In.- 
 he knew charged with a brace of bull its. They were such as 
 he could well rely on. The suggestion coursed rapidly through 
 his mind. It grew in force ; it ripened to conclusion ; it became 
 a resolutiow In a moment, he sprang to his feet, whirled aside 
 
THAT HUNDRED GUINEAS. . 469 
 
 the great chair upon which he had been sitting, and darted tow 
 ard the pistols. 
 
 But, resolute as was his determination, secret and sudden of 
 purpose, and prompt of execution, he was too late. The squat 
 ter knew his man, had suffered none of his movements to escape 
 him, and i^hen M Kewn stretched out his hand to grasp the 
 weapons upon the wall, he encountered the squatter. Bostwiek 
 stood between, and, instead of arming himself, M Kewn fomu 1 a 
 pistol at his own breast. 
 
 " Keep quiet, now, M Kewn, and git back to your easy cLair. 
 It is not your time yit, nor is it mine. I don t want to hurt you, 
 but I knows you, and will jest keep a p inter upon your motions, 
 tell I has my axings." 
 
 Devil ! Would you murder me ? Would you drive me to 
 madness ?" 
 
 " Well, twarn t good sense in me to be doing either one, so 
 long as I gits what I wants by easy means. But, rether than 
 not git it, I d kill you soon enough, and drive you to the devil, 
 and to madness, and eny whar* you choose, and not sp ile my 
 appetite in doing it. Set you down, I tell you, and don t be 
 making yourself a redickilous figger!" 
 
 " What is it you want ?" was the demand of M Kewn, half- 
 moved to rush upon the fellow in defiance of the pistol. 
 
 " Well, that s a foolish question arter all I ve been a-telling 
 you. I wants a leetle of iny rights. To begin a hundred 
 guineas, which I must hev this very night." 
 
 " That s impossible. I don t keep money in the country !" 
 
 " That s nothing to me. You must find it. I don t quit you, 
 M Kewn, till I gits the gould guineas, one hundred on em, in 
 this very hand. Set you down quiet, and think over the different 
 draws, or holes, whar you hides away your yallow-birds. As 
 for gitting at the pistols, while I has a pair on em myself, cram 
 med to the muzzle with bullets, that s onpossible, and you knows 
 it. Set down quiet, and think over what you hev to do. I ll 
 give you time for the thinking." 
 
 M Kewn drew back submissively, and sank into the seat again. 
 As he did so, the squatter took down the pistols from the wall and 
 stuck them into his belt. 
 
 * It s only a removing the temptation from your eyes." 
 
470 woo nu: A IT. 
 
 This done he began to pace the room languidly as before, at time 
 humming the words and air of a song of vulgar independence, then 
 quite popular among the whigs, but the words of which have only in 
 part de-e.-nded to our tin 
 
 Tvr 110 mm-y, I ve- no lainls, 
 
 YI t i oarry Fearless hamis. 
 
 And i 1 i-ir no lonl -i mnmamN. 
 
 him tlmml-T a- lie i 
 I ve the >1reii j-t!i to ,).) my part, 
 Stromr of arm, ami stout of 
 And I do inn ear, 
 
 Here If &ewn a voice broke in up-.n that of ti..- MI 
 
 \:. ; ,u thi-. hundred -i:inea-. !!ostwick. are you p:v 
 
 i i,, d< li\< e paper- in the boi of M. Kvelicgh ? " 
 
 1 Not ed/aetly ! YOU don t git them d- ^ K- wn, tell you 
 
 plank down one hundred more guineas, on the nail, and I ll ixpeet 
 you to do that very thing by the middle, of next u< 
 
 TllC ^colehmaii avain started up in a fury. 
 
 " Easy, .M Kewn ; take it easy, and it ll be BO much the better for 
 
 your nan J re tlun-ied. and thar s no use for it. Don t \ on 
 
 to ii : Thar s no ._rjni,,,r ,,\\\" 
 
 .M Kewn groaned aloud; then turning to the silver flagon which 
 had held the punch, he ; I, with trembling hands, to pour its 
 
 contents into a tumbler. 
 
 "That s right : It ll steady your narves. I m only atear d I ve 
 left vou too small a sup ! " 
 
 moth .M Kewn. quickly. " I ll step dov.n Stairs and get 
 a fresh supply. You ll be wanting more a! 
 
 "Quiet. M Kewn. You doesn t leave this room ontell I gels my 
 guineas." 
 
 . .iid. with the words, the squatter coolly locked the door, and put 
 the key into his pocket. 
 
 "Damnation, man! Do you mean to make me a prisoner in my 
 own hoii- 
 
 "Oh! psho ! sue! up ! What made it your house any more 
 
 than mine? Only bekaise you had better skill in roguery. K! I 
 
 - out here onsaiNtied. M Kewn, your house goes to the devil 
 
 and you l- iig with it! Don t you understand yit, that I kin 
 
 tear you out of it, by the hands of Johnny Ketch, the born rope- 
 
THAT HUNDKED GUINEAS. 471 
 
 stretcher. Be sensible, and git the guineas ; and then you may git 
 the drink.* 
 
 M Kewn resumed his seat; and sternly regarded his persecutor, 
 jo longer concealing, or seeking to conceal, the venomous hatred 
 of his heart, betraying itself without disguise, in every feature of his 
 face. 
 
 "Well," said Bostwick, "you re looking now more honest-like 
 fhan I ve seed you for many a day. You ll be letting me hev those 
 guineas, I see. That s the right sense. You hev no chaince, 
 M Kewn. I m a-top of you this time ! " 
 
 The words were those of truth and soberness, however strange, 
 coming from such lips. M Kewn felt them to be so. He had been 
 put in check at every point of the game, and to avoid checkmate it 
 was necessry to sacrifice a few pawns. However reluctant to receive 
 this conviction, it came to him at last. 
 
 "You shall have the guineas; but I must have the box of 
 papers." 
 
 "All in good time ! It ll take a hundred guineas more, I tell you, 
 M Kewn, afore you gets them papers." 
 
 "And when am I to have them ? " 
 
 " Next week, when I wants the other hundred guineas." 
 
 "And then ?" 
 
 "Well! What then?" 
 
 " Am I then to be rid of you for ever ? " 
 
 "For over s a long time, M Kewn, and I kaint quite answer: 
 but I rether think you ll never be rid of me ; for, as I tell d you, 
 Old Horny has promised that we shall keep together all the 
 time, work together on this airth, and go to him together; and 
 when thar" pointing downward "I m to give you a little 
 taste of that same cat that has left its claw marks all over my 
 body." 
 
 "Pshaw !" 
 
 "You may pshaw as much as you please, but I tell you 
 whether I seed or haird, or only dreamed it, I kaint say but as 
 I m a living sinner, / think, I seed the devil in his own nateral 
 shape ; something more than a human, something less than a 
 beast. a mighty fearsome sort of a cross between a big man and 
 a wild animal, nara one nor t other cdzactly, and looking a heap 
 like both, and talking like a imn, ",o I lat I could e>??cler*tand ; 
 
472 WOOIH KAIT. 
 
 and he tell d me the same words I tell you, which was i 
 wi<-k, w r hcn I comes for you, I ll call for M Kcwn at tin; same 
 time. You re bound to come together. Thar! believe it a- you 
 choose, only get me the guin 
 
 " And if I n\v give you a hundred guineas " 
 
 " Next week another hundred. 
 
 "You will then give me up the papers, and rid me for ever of 
 your presence ~: 
 
 "That last thing, M Kewn. y< . HIP devil ^peaks truth 
 
 at all, is unite "//posvjhl.- : and I ain t the man to lly in the face 
 of the devil, and say I w I n <-kon 
 
 I ll liev to s,. ( . you whem ver I Hit after them two 
 
 hundred guineas, I ll give you a long n -t ma; 
 or more." 
 
 M Kewn relleeted. and determined to It ave the promised -, eurily, 
 for the present, to t lie chapter of ehaiH ( in timeisihe 
 
 object willt every politician whom stubborn necessity tli 
 gravel. M Ke\vn had a faith in a sort of devil providi-ne, . He 
 meditated to himself - 
 
 If 1 can get the papers out of him, and be sure of -i\ in- 
 forbearance, much may be done much may happen in that time. 
 1 -hall not always be locked up and ffeaponteas, in a close mum. 
 The pistols need not aluays he upon the wall, lie may lie found 
 napping in turn. In that i- my hope." Aloud 
 
 "You shall have your hundred guineas llosiwick. DOWJ 
 next week, when you brin.ir me the papers, you shall have another 
 hundred." 
 
 " That s beinu sensible, i 
 
 " Uut 1 must then be rid of you. Ilemcmber that ! " 
 
 "Well! That s just a> it happens, M Kewn. I m sure it s not 
 you 1 want> to B66 any time, and ef you kin lind out the R 
 my hand with the gould chickens when 1 wantfi em, I d : 
 darken your door in a hundred years of Sundays. Hut qu 
 M Kewn ; I ve irot a stretch of had riding to do yit hefore dayp 
 
 "The money is in that chest," said the Scotchman, as if to 
 himself. He crossed the room toward the chest which stood in the 
 opposite corner, stooped o.nd prepared to open it. The 
 vigilance did not desert him. His reflections were of this sort 
 unuttered, of course. 
 
THAT HUNDRED GUINEAS. 473 
 
 "He s got other we pons in that cliist, perhaps; other pistols, 
 loaded with double bullets. He don t catch this weasel asleep this 
 time !" 
 
 M Kcwn opened the chest, which contained a variety of things. 
 There was money gold and silver in an open box ; there were 
 trinkets of value, several large pieces of plate and sure enough, 
 conspicuous over all, a splendid pair of pistols, easy at hand, ready for 
 use. The hand of M Kewn hung indecisively over the open chest. 
 There was the gold on one side, there the pistols on the other. The 
 fingers clutched one of the pistols. He raised his head cautiously, 
 and cast his eyes upward. The squatter stood immediately over him, 
 with the muzzle of his own formidable pistol staring him in the 
 face. Bostwick, stealthy as a wild cat, had crept behind him, 
 weapon in hand, and was peering down into the chest, ready for 
 any event. He laughed aloud as he saw the action of the Scotch 
 man. 
 
 " T wont do, M Kcwn ! This wenscl never sleeps when he s in the 
 fowl house." 
 
 M Keen quietly laid down the weapon he had grasped, and 
 gathered Tip the gold. The signs in his horoscope were not then 
 friendly. lie must wait events, have patience, and look- to an 
 other shuffle of the cards. The money was counted out, paid and 
 received. 
 
 " Look for me next week, M Kewn, and be ready with the other 
 hundred . " 
 
 "And see that you bring the papers ; for I tell you, Bostwick, if I 
 die for it, you get not another shilling till I have the papers." 
 
 "You shill hev em, and the account will then be squared between 
 us, of all that happened before you shipped me for the shirks. But 
 after that, we must have new reckonings." 
 
 "D n his reckonings ! exclaimed M Kewn, after he was gone. 
 " Once deprived oftho.se papers, and I do not fear him. Ilia evidence 
 will not be worth a straw in any court." 
 
 The squatter again popped his head suddenly into the chamber: 
 
 " I ll leave your pistols for you, M Kewn, outside the door, down 
 stairs. But shan t we have a sup of that same liquor together afore I 
 leave you." 
 
 " Begone no !" The squatter grinned only 
 
 " Well, good night, M Kewn ; what s left of it !" 
 
474 
 
 CHATTEL LXIII 
 
 TIM: BQUATTBB I N HIS CABIN. 
 
 The squatter did n<>t show him-elf to any other QJQB thai 
 nii:ht. He did not proceed to iln- e;il.in when his wife and cllil 
 dren dwelt. He hou-ed him-elf in i!,. -\\amp with hi 
 trea-nre. Hi- found thi- safe. I!; 
 found out; hi- ho\ of guinea- ; ,IM! papers imd been in 
 in the -ame condition as when he left it. Crouched in the hoi 
 10W of the rypfe . lr ^!rpt over ; ! Hot I ll). I;" the 
 
 day till the sun wa- hi-rh in the h- Th -n lie i ui-d foi th. 
 
 and stood slill. in tin- shelter oft] . but UJ-MI, the diy land. 
 
 lie made hi- \\.-iy to tin- >priu^ v/liirh. a oout a <|U:,U r of a mile 
 from hi- .Iwellin.ir. supplied \\\< I iii 
 
 one of ii, -ret. miuiiiru -i\- b modestly 
 
 from the earth }\\A on the edgefl t the -\\amp. sueli a- fiU iu ;i 
 peculiar feature in our forest country; a little hollow, \\ithclear 
 white -and at the bottom, and ;, ill about it, with 
 
 the water- ^n-hiiii; out silently fmni a couple of small eye* in 
 the hank.-ide. Shaded ly uM eat ti ee-x of ihe fore-t.it \\ , 
 cool, and with a tnlerahly rapid course to the swamp, it 
 always clear and pure. The -quatier knew where to !"(>U foi 
 the i;i ,t >,ix, i. the eu]) of irourd, lian-inLT from a liou;.-!) of ihe 
 just over it. He dipped and drank drank deeph > the deli 
 cious waters then .-toopin--, bathed his head and neck in the 
 runninir stream. This done, he threw him-elf lown amo:iv; the 
 beside it, with an air uf c \hausiion and languor quitiMin- 
 \vi;nted in liis u.-ual habit. 
 
 In truth, his appearance was that f a dJ :id almost d< - 
 
 ranged man. His face hunu-d with fever, his eyea were L)L 
 shot and prominent, almost seeming lo start : 
 mouth lay open and he panted with the least exertion. As In- 
 walked his motion was unsici.dy, and hi.> liml<- 
 neath him. lie rose after a while. drank, a: 
 
 dipped his head into the waters. Scarcely Imd he left ti 
 
THE SQUATTER IN HIS CABIN, 475 
 
 cnce more retiring among the trees, when his keen ear detected 
 the sound of approaching voices. His instincts at once prompted 
 him to hide himself; which he did without effort, among the 
 shrubs near at hand. Very soon he beheld the persons of the 
 intruders. These were no other than young Arthur Eveleigh attend 
 ing his own pretty daughter. 
 
 Dory, whom he had not seen before now, since his return, 
 was wonderfully improved. She had grown evidently taller in 
 six months. She was now at that interesting period of life when 
 the girl may be said to glide into the woman. She was preco 
 cious, and her air and manner were in advance of her years. 
 She had caught up quickly, in her occasional visits to Mrs. Eve 
 leigh, the graces of a higher sphere of life than that to which 
 she belonged, and it was with a natural pride that the eyes of the 
 squatter beheld the mixed ease, simplicity, and animation of her 
 movements. Her features were as beautiful as ever ; her form 
 showed to more advantage in the better costume which the widow 
 had provided her ; the lively flashing of her eye, and the clear, 
 silvery flute-like accents of her voice, declared a pure happiness of 
 the heart, such as she had seldom before betrayed in the sight 
 of her father. 
 
 At the first sight of his child, the heart of the squatter bounded 
 within him, will) a pleasurable and exulting sensation. She was 
 bi! She was the only one, perhaps, or all his household, who 
 had somehow found the way to his rugged and spasmodic affec 
 tions. But, after a few moments, the natural selfishness of a bad 
 heart suggested that the girl had improved in grace, beauty, 
 health, and showed improved fortunes, and joy, and hope, and 
 animation, though he the father had been a wanderer though 
 he had been tossed about wearily in distant lands, in dread, and 
 strife, and danger and, for all he knew, might be dead, 
 drowned, or sacrificed with brutal ferocity to the vengeance of his 
 enemies . 
 
 For a while the bitter feeling inspired by this reflection pre 
 dominated over all others. But this disappeared when he looked 
 upon Arthur Eveleigh, and witnessed the lively interest which 
 that young man seemcdV to take in his beautiful child. Dory 
 c.iiTied a bucket, with which she designed to bring water from 
 the spring. It was not a large or weighty vessel, but Arthur 
 
would have snatched it from her, and carried it hi: 
 
 refused and jerked it away, ami. la 
 
 darted from him. living like a- fa 1 .-. 
 
 him. lie, of coiir-e, pur-urd, ami a playf;; 
 
 the -primr ;i- to \\ h- ihouM til! tin- Ituekct. 
 
 you, Arthur ! " said the child, kerpin In mind the 
 
 superior social position of i ::ion. 
 
 I m the able-t. tl.. 
 
 not riirht that a irirl like yi ii -huld do Mich thin;.:- I will lill 
 it." 
 
 Well, you may help me. I ll lill it half, and you shall fill the 
 other." 
 
 ry well ; hut I wan? 
 bash for me. and I ll lill it then for you. : to dnnk. 1 
 
 SUpp 
 
 " Ye- I ll do that I nd >h- handed 
 
 LTourd filled willi l!i. iwed ainl H>:ir!Ji: 
 
 He ii;jxtnl thai She -Imuld drink, but sln n-f .utely, 
 
 and he did \\< It, but ^ati^tled hi< tliir^t. Ill- 
 
 water remainiiiL: in the cu; it in the ru: 
 
 MI; then dipped up a t n-h supply . ! 
 
 was gently -"lieitous, fond and playful, but studiou 
 
 ;md re-pectful. Between them the be 1 finally. 
 
 not in the sli . Tiiev pralllr.l. 
 
 boy, over every gourd <>r vrater which they lifted up; and 9 
 
 tli \ were done. Arthr.r -i/cd upon th:- lueke 
 bear it otV. 
 
 " ( )h ! you musn t , Arthur ; mother will lie vexed 
 doim: such work." 
 
 " Work, indeed ! why it s n-itliiii-.r to me, i BTy ii." 
 
 " ^"(-. but 1 can t let you ; mother will think il s unwov 
 you." And she st-i/rd upon the handle, but Arthur r< 
 yield it. 
 
 In pulling o]>p(sitc ways, the water l.cuiri to 
 by mutual COM--.- nl. the tw. 
 
 before Dory could suspect his purpose. Arthur ] 
 about (he waist, and b . her burning 
 
 \ips. 
 
 " Oh ! Arthur, you promised ine you would tdo so u.iraiii." 
 
THE SQUATTER I2ST HIS CABIK. 477 
 
 " Well, why did you fight with me for the bucket, Dory," was the 
 pert reply of the boy. 
 
 "I didn t fight with you. You know I ought to carry it. 
 Mother" 
 
 "Oh! don t tell me about your mother. You are always talking 
 as if she was the greatest scold in the world. Now I know she never 
 scolds you at all. So, no more of that, Dory. You take one side of 
 the handle and I ll take the other, and we ll carry the bucket so 
 together. 
 
 The compromise was acceptable, and the two disappeared with 
 their burden, prattling away all the secrets of their young hearts, 
 never once dreaming who had been the listener. When they 
 were gone, the squatter fell into a fit of musing, in spite of his 
 feverish and suffering condition, for he now, himself, felt that he 
 was really ill. 
 
 "Ef he would marry her now, she d desarve it. She s a most 
 beautiful and blessed looking child as I ever did see. She s 
 beautiful and sweet enough to be the wife of any man. But 
 tain t possible that sich a thing could happen. His motherwould 
 be agin it. When he grow d a little older and more knowing, 
 he d be agin it. . People would talk. He d hear em speak of 
 the Squatter Bostwick. He d hear em tell of how she was the 
 child of a poor man, that lived in a cabin ; and who was, alto 
 gether, a most bad man, and a rascal. And how could he stand 
 that? No! he couldn t stand it. He couldn t marry her: and 
 so there must be no love doings betwixt em. I must take care 
 of that! Dory is too blessed a child to have a man fooling about 
 her when he can t never marry her: and I must take care of 
 her; and I must take care of him; and ef I finds him at eny 
 mischief, I ll put a knife into him jest as soon as I would stick 
 a pig, and a great deal sooner, too." 
 
 Again the squatter moved down to the spring, and drank. He 
 was really suffering. He lounged or lay about in the woods for 
 some hours. Why he still kept away from his cabin and his 
 family, it would be difficult to conjecture. But he only drew 
 nigh to it at night ; and then, under a sense of suffering which 
 rendered him inaccessible to the sense of fear. He found his way 
 in at last, and immediately took to his bed. His illness increased, 
 His wife gave him some simple medicines, but they afforded him 
 
.j;s WOODCRAFT, 
 
 no relief. For several days he l:iy upon a couch of pain, without 
 . -foment of his mind increasing with the incivax; <>f 
 >. At length lu- called Dory to his bedside. 
 
 " Dory, y.i-.i inu-t ir< to M Ke-.\n l -,r inc. You know M Kewn. 
 You know where lie li 
 
 Yes, father! I saw him when I was staying with Mr-. 
 
 "What! you staying with Mrs. Kb leirh? Hut never mind 
 lint now. You must go to M Kewn, and tell him to com*- to me 
 to-night; I wants iiim. I must we him hen-; and don t you 
 lake any senses, you hear! He mu-t mine. Tell him I ll fix 
 the thing for him. lie shall In v the papers, l.ut tell him In 
 to bring th- g-nild. And lo..k you. IWy. don t ynu let 
 
 : " cut through Hi-- woods; and don t 
 
 line now in the widow s and d<>nt you !! anyli"dy 1 
 
 nothing of wh> and whar you re guine. Now. you 
 
 stand?" 
 
 her." 
 
 " Well. let me he-ir what \oifve 
 
 Sin- repeated his in-t ructions. 
 
 "Very well; and now be olT as soon as you kin. I m in a hurry, 
 yon 
 
 The girl olicycd. Of what nature was the hurry of which the 
 squatter -puke, he, pcrhap-. had no certain consciou-ne-s ; luit he, 
 soon made it apparent to hi- wife that his mind was unsettled, lie 
 called her up. Bfl >,>n a< Dor. said: 
 
 " When .M Kewn conic- ln-re to-night, you must cl ar out with the 
 children. You kin hev a tire made up in tin- woods, and keep warm 
 
 while we re talking together. We v< a long talk to do together. 
 
 We ve got a heap of busine. I m a guine to l>uy a farm fe.r ! 
 and you and the children can live with her when she s niurried. 
 I m guine to buy her some ni-gers, and fix her up handsome in the 
 world. She shan t be a beggar child my longer. You hear to that, 
 and ef you takes the righ 4 care of her it ll be all the better for you. 
 Do you hour to that? Give me some water to drink. I m consuming 
 tlmirsty." 
 
 She gave him the water. lie drank, and rose from the bed. but 
 staggered from wakness. The wife urged him to lie down again. 
 but he replied sharply 
 
THE SQUATTER IX HIS CABIN. 479 
 
 "Git out, and don t meddle whar you don t owclerstand. Go 
 along now, and put yourself on the road leading to the pinelancb, and 
 see ef that s nobody about, and come and tell me quick." 
 
 She did so, and during her absence he proceeded to dress himself, 
 which he did with evident effort. lie was feeble, had taken little or 
 no nourishment, and was sustained only by the excitement of fever, 
 and a will that would not suffer him to admit, even to himself, the 
 extent of his sufferings. By the time that he had finished dressing 
 himself, his wife returned. The road was clear ; there was nobody 
 to be seen. He prepared to go forth. 
 
 " You re not going out ? " she asked. 
 
 " What s it to you ef I am ? Mind your own business." 
 
 He disappeared, and was absent a full hour. When he returned, 
 he brought with him, wrapped up in the folds of his cloak, 
 the box of Mrs. Eveleigh, containing the papers and the stolen 
 treasure, with the hundred guineas additional he had received 
 from M Kewn. The wife saw that he carried something with 
 him, but she was not permitted to know what, He concealed it 
 beneath the bed clothes where he lay, sinking upon the couch in 
 utter exhaustion as he did so. The day passed. In due season Dory 
 returned, bringing a message from M Kewn, who promised to come 
 as required ! 
 
 "Good!" said the squatter, languidly smiling upon the child. 
 " You re a beauty of the forest, Dory, and I love you, and you 
 shill hev a farm of your own, Dory, and niggers to work for you, 
 and a nice little waiting-maid servant of your own all of your 
 own." 
 
 Thank ye, father ; and father, I want you to let me read to y*u 
 now, out of this book." 
 
 The Bible ! no, none of that now ; for I ve got dealings with 
 the devil to-night, or one that s a born brother of the devil, and 
 I don t want any good lessons when I ve got to deal with such sort 
 of persons. Shct it up, Dory, and jest you sit ~by me now, and sing 
 for me some soft sweet little bit of a song. But, first, give me 
 some water." 
 
 "Father, oughtn t you to take physic ? " 
 
 " Well, ef I know d what physic to take, Dory ; but I don t." 
 
 " There s a Doctor 
 
 "Jest stop, now, and don t you tell me of doctors now. I 
 
480 Woo I( KAIT. 
 
 hev nt got money to give to doctors. I ll want all to buy your farm 
 and niggers." 
 
 "Oh! don t mind that, father, but -end for Doctor 
 
 "Slu-l up! You don t know what you re a saying. I must 
 mind that. I ve got nothing el-e but that to mind. I m ftguil 
 make you a lady. Dory. BO that you shill be able to marry a line 
 gentleman some day." 
 
 lint, father" 
 Shd up. and je>t sing, that s all." 
 
 Tin- child obeyed, and -hr -amr for him a well-known 
 
 dittv. He shut iii- eyes, and -<< med to Dumber: and someti 
 
 watching him. sometin;. tO him. and answeriiu 
 
 for water, the day sped away, .-.lid the still watches of the night - 
 
 on. As the wife lighted her dipped candle- in th- < hamber, 1 he 
 
 S(juatter started up. 
 
 It s ni-rht. and that devil M KewiT- Q 
 
 "It s just dark, father: 1 reckon he ll In- h- 
 
 AS she Spoke, the hoofs of I I d. 
 
 "That s him. I kn. . tin- squatter. " Ami now." he con 
 
 tinued, addiv im- hi- wife, "do you cl ar out. as I told you 
 take Dory and the children with you, ami make up a tire in tin- 
 woods, and don t be poking about hereto li-ten. far when a man s 
 got to talk with the devil and his an-el-. he don t want eny body to 
 hear the bargain he niak- 
 
 In a few minutes M Kewn tapped at the door, was admitted, 
 and the wife, with her children disappeared. The door wa^ - 
 fully fa-tencil, and the two criminal-, ooll 
 alt^ie together. 
 
THE SKRIMMAGK AT GLFX-EIJEULEY, 481 
 
 CHATTER LXII. 
 
 1HK SKRIMMAGS AT GLEN-EBERLEY, AND HOV\ IT BI%J>?> 
 
 FROM tlie cabin of the squatter to the mansion of the 
 in, with us now, as it frequently is in fact, only a stone s tnro\> , 
 Let us pass from one to the other. The bolt has descenr ,d 
 Captain Porgy is in tribulation. The sheriff, with the posse 
 comitatm, is at Glen-Eberley. There is great confusion in the 
 garrison. It is a garrison, however, well defended. The doors 
 ire all barred and bolted. From the upper windows, Sergeant 
 Millhouse and Tom, the cook, are keeping watch, armed to the 
 teeth. The captain is moving from chamber to chamber, breath 
 ing defiance. There is warrant out for his arrest. He swears 
 that his person shall never be dishonored by the touch of the 
 sheriff. Meanwhile, that officer, with his myrmidons, has envi 
 roned the dwelling. They have failed to capture the negroes, 
 who are all off. Tom, and that antique mother of many " gine- 
 rations," old Sappho, only excepted. Apprized of the approach 
 of the enemy, Lance Frampton was deputed by Millhouse to 
 take charge of the negroes, and house them in the swamp. This 
 duty done, he was to act as a scouting party, making proper efforts 
 lo relieve the garrison, by throwing in provisions, whenever op 
 portunity should offer. 
 
 The sheriff, meanwhile, sustained by Crooks, the much-suffer 
 ing deputy, who tenaciously sought his own revenge, with some 
 half dozen auxiliary bull-dogs of the courts, was yet bewildered 
 with the difficulties of his situation; provoked by the perverse 
 and utterly useless obstinacy of Porgy, yet half-laughing at the. 
 military resolve to convert his house into a castle at a period 
 when the mailed coat of the soldier was in duty bound to give 
 place to the gown of the civilian. The sheriff s natura 1 good 
 humor and love of good fellowship, were in conflict witn his 
 official dignities and duties. And, now, under the trees in the 
 
 2 
 
432 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 avenue, he sat in consultation wiih -. They did i.ot 
 
 dare to venture within n hundred yards. They hnd already tri<-d 
 the defences and were warned oil ; sullen linking nile-nm/xleff 
 I Otruding from portholes cut in tlie shuttered windows, and 
 pistols swaying out significantly through hroken panes of glass iii 
 the upper story. 
 
 While thus tliey sat, in front of the strong and well-manned 
 garrison which they had summoned in vain to Mirremier. 
 threateiied l>y unexpected dangers in the rear. 1 
 .Frampton, having securely ln U>ed the fugitive neg. 
 making tin- circuit of the plantation, when hi- hrheld tv. 
 looking persons approaching. One was an 81 tall man, 
 
 (thing Over lii tv. lean, lank, long; of dry, withered a >; 
 simple! as skinny OJ , hut with something in hi- lace that 
 
 pronounced him a character. His companion was altng.-ther a 
 different person, of middle >i/e, well huilt without 1 if, of 
 
 a full, frank, fair countenance, line complexion, light liluc oyt 
 which twinkled merrily when he spoke, and a joyous laugh, likt 
 the ringing of a hird note, that you could hear a mile off. 1! th 
 of them carried rifles, and, with their arms, equipments and dress, 
 were altogether just such persons in appearance ;i- v, ei e ( aptain 
 y and his c-omrad- heheld them when, homeward 
 
 hound, they first left the camp of Marion. 
 
 Jt was Frampton s present duty to overhaul these stran.. 
 Thev might l>e additional forces of tin- shcritl whom In- 
 In -und to cut off. He resumed all the .strategic practice thai he 
 had acquired in the war; tied his horse, in the woods and stole 
 ui.der cover toward the strangers, who were hoth on foot. One 
 nf them, l.y the, way, the tall man, carried an enormous sack 
 upon his shoulders, which stuck out in every direction; the othe: 
 horn, a little wallet, of leather, which hung out upon the end of 
 Ms rifle. When they approached sufficiently nigh, Framptoi 
 leaped out with a joyful cry to meet them. He knew them at . . 
 rlance. 
 
 "What, George?" he cried, to the younger of the two, "I? 
 t you? and, "Doctor, I am really glad to see you." 
 
 The parties have heen, more than once, Mihjccts of remark in 
 onr larrative. They were old followers of Porgy; the one 
 Doctor Oakenbivg, a culler of simples and catcher of 
 
THE SKRIMMAGE AT GLEX-EBEllLEY. 483 
 
 both of which his sack was now full ; tumbled in, in old confusion, 
 with shirts and breeches, and other body-gear; the other was no 
 less a person than George Dennison, the poet of the partisans, of 
 whom Porgy had been always very fond, and whom he was required 
 to defend very frequently against the utilitarian philosophies of 
 Millhouse. The meeting on both sides was very joyous : the 
 welcome of Frampton was delivered in earnest. These were 
 auxiliaries, allies, whom he took for granted, would readily side 
 with him against the sheriff. Upon Dennison he could put reli 
 ance. Oakeuburg was one who had no relish for danger ; and 
 now, when told of the predicament in which Porgy stood, and 
 asked if he would not cooperate for his relief, he avowed his 
 readiness to do so only on condition that he was required to "act 
 in a situation which should be one of perfect security." The 
 phrase was one to which all his associates had been accustomed 
 for years ; and yet, though stipulating thus always, he had gone 
 through several campaigns without absolutely skulking from any 
 fight. His professional role was something of a protection, it is 
 true ; but it was notorious that a patient was never in more danger 
 than when Oakenburg promised to save him. Dennison was de 
 lighted with the notions of circumventing the sheriff, and readily 
 fell into all the plans which Lance presented. His scheme was 
 suddenly to fall upon the party of the sheriff in the rear, and 
 by giving a proper signal to the garrison, effect a simultaneous 
 movement, by which the two parties, pushing forward at the same 
 moment might utterly surprise and capture the myrmidons of 
 the law together, at one single swoop. It was calculated that a 
 mere demonstration from front and rear, at the same moment, 
 would enable them to succeed in their object without shedding a 
 drop of blood. Our partisans, it will be seem from this, had but 
 very little notion of the valor of those who had served only in the 
 chambers of the law. 
 
 Franiptou s plans were soon completed. His companions were 
 both armed, as we have said. They submitted to his directions. 
 He brought them down, under cover all the way, until they lay 
 perdu, each with the bead of his rifle prepared to tell upon an 
 enemy s button. To establish a communication with the garrison 
 was the next object. To effect this having given Dennison full 
 instructions as to what he and Oakenburg should do, and at what 
 
484 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 moment Frampton stole away, and they of him 
 
 for half on hour. In this time, he made hi* way. un-eeii by 
 those witliout to the dwelling, and by signals previous, 
 upon with Millhouse, found admittance. Hi- M-heine was duly 
 reported, rapidly considered, an; resolved upon. I 
 
 wa< now in such f excitement that r stopped 
 
 ID reason u])ou any portion of the alTair lut the probability of 
 \n enterprise of this nature carried him back to the 
 familiar stimulant- .1 rxcitin. lie thought of the 
 
 -inlic. its b.-autic-. . illy, the slioiit. the 
 
 triumph; never . ;ir i.\\\ : the sacred character of the 
 
 sheritV the awful powers of the courts; the state and It 
 
 dignil 
 
 Framplon had now d! i, and the L r arrisi>n 1" 
 
 arms. I oi-y appeared in the hall in full armor; Mill house was 
 there, with his *. :i |,re \vavini: in air; Tom carried a sabre also; 
 a ril .e was slumr upon his ^boulder, as upon hi- and 
 
 there wen pbtoll in every. . \Ve DM n- 
 
 mention one fact, lio\ve\cr, that, wild .ur captain of par- 
 
 lisans, he look spe< ial are that none "f the -iioiild be 
 
 (hailed with ball. (Jood hea\ y char.ires of powder, well wadded, 
 IhnM into the iruns and pistols; but imthin.tr niore heavy. 
 Our captain s aim \\as to surprise, lo >care, and to captu:- 
 di-|H i--e his enemy. lie made Lame Framjtton and .Millhoiise 
 understand this matter clearly ; and was particularly heedful 
 thai they should B66, that, however \\iliim: t violate the laws 
 in >oine ; :u- was yet scrupulous that no blood shoui 
 
 shed. 
 
 \\Y are not pn-pan-d to say that lie felt no anxieties on this 
 head, since any encounter of the sort mu>t necessarily, even with 
 the best purposes of forbearance, on the .-ide of one of the par 
 ties, be of doubtful accidents; but, in truth, hi.s o\\ n excited 
 temper did not siill i-r him very profoundly to meditate the 
 sibilities of the experiment. The watch above siair.s. meanwhile, 
 duly reported progress. Signals were momently expected, and 
 our garrison stole down the inner stairs to the basement, prepared 
 to rush from under the porch upon the sheriffs party, as soon 
 as Frampton could be heard from. He. meanwhile, made his 
 way to his new allies, Dennison and Oakenlmrg. The better 
 
THE 3KRIMMAGE AT GLEN-EBERLEY. 485 
 
 to encourage the latter to audacity, the lieutenant described the 
 iffair as a furious jest only. The withdrawal of the bullets from 
 all their weapons seemed to confirm this. 
 
 " But," says the lieutenant " you must look as if in earnest 
 and behave just as if it was all real and serious fighting. That s 
 the only way to scare off these fellows. They ain t used to 
 fighting, and a few random shots, and a good big shouting, will 
 be pretty sure to do their business, particularly when they see 
 us, on one side, and the captain and his men on t other, rushing 
 on like mad, and flourishing pistols and broadswords. That s 
 all we shall have to do." 
 
 Dennison was eager for the fun, and, now that it seemed so 
 innocent, Oakenburg was not unready. Quietly, the three stole 
 toward the sheriff s party, in silence the most profound, as long 
 as they could possibly approach without discovery. Frampton 
 on this progress, had separated from the two. and taken another 
 direction, which enabled him to act between the several parties, 
 He was to give the signal, discharging a pistol, and rushing into 
 sight, though at a greater distance from the enemy than either 
 of the other parties. This, after a little interval, he did. 
 
 His pistol-shot, his fierce halloo, and his rush, from out the 
 covert, was followed in a few seconds by a terrible uproar from 
 the court of the dwelling ; and, directly after, from Dennison 
 and his companion : Oakenburg had famous lungs, if his courage 
 was wanting in firmness. He could roar like an alligator, and 
 his bellowings shook the wood. The sheriff and his party were 
 at once on their feet. They were environed with dangers. 
 They knew not which way to turn. Their consternation was 
 evident at a glance. The sheriff was firm, but surprised ; his 
 immediate ally, Crooks, whose own revenges were ever upper 
 most in his mind, was ready for battle, so far as appetite was 
 concerned ; but he was divided between three fires. The 
 one great bully, whom they had brought with them, and who 
 had never in his life shrunk from fist or bludgeon, now showed 
 a veiy different spirit, when pistols and rifles were introduced 
 into the discussion. He had a very wholesome reluctance to an 
 atmosphere about to be impregnated with gunpowder. At the 
 very first shout and shot (which came together) he started off 
 at a run, and was knocked down by the furious Crooks, as he 
 
486 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 was making off. He scarcely stirred again until the affair \\at 
 over until the firing had fairly erased. 
 
 Meanwhile, the several parties performed their separate duties 
 with admirable concert. On a sudden, the corpulent might of 
 Captain Porgy, like a young buffalo, might he seen emerging 
 from the cover of his pia//a. lie came forward, swelling and 
 splurging to employ the phrase l.y which Millhouse frequently 
 described his assault afterward his eyes glaring like in< 
 his voici yelling a terrific slogan ; his broadsword waving like 
 the broad tail of a fiery comet, at the advent of an earthquake 
 Porgy could not exactly rush or run. but he could roll forward 
 with wonderful effect, and his lungs \veiv good. His strength 
 was great when lie once set hands upon his victim. He looked 
 in terrible earnest as he came. AViiile bis right grasped the 
 brOad-SWOrd, his left carried a pistol. As he advanced, be fired 
 with deliberate aim at the enemy, then dropping the one \ 
 drew another, still advanced, still took deadly aim, fired and 
 hurried onward with a shout. 
 
 Millhouse did likewise. So Frampton from bis quarter 
 Dcnnison and Oakenburg from theirs; so Tom, the cook, follow 
 ing close in the wake of his master; and finally, so Sappho, the 
 ancient, \\hn.se screams from toothless ja\\ s were absolutely most 
 awful of all to hear. Can you wonder at the result. Can you 
 doubt that the sheriff s party uas discomfited, even before a 
 blow was struck. His men fled incontinently from the field, all 
 but Crooks, who stood bravely beside his chief, with bludgeon 
 in hand, and looked the danger in the face with tolerable core- 
 posture. 
 
 The sheriff drew his small-sword with the air of a nobleman 
 in a conflict with a crowd of canaille, who sees that he must per 
 ish, and takes the proper attitude at once to die with grace and 
 dignity, and do something u-ickc.l while falling. But he was 
 allowed no chance. Half a dozen pistols flashed pretty near hia 
 face and that of C v ooks, utterly blinding them. They both con 
 cluded themselves slain, tiough doubtful at the moment where 
 to locate their hurts ; and while the sheriff, with the despair of 
 a dying man, darted forward and thrust out his sword in the 
 direction of Porgy s abdominal demonstration, Tom, the cook, 
 ruihed upon him from behind, dexterously dived between his 
 
THE SKRIMMAGE AT GLEN-EBERLEY. 487 
 
 parted legs, lifted him fairly from the ground, and, while his 
 sword furiously but fruitlessly slashed away in air, hurried him 
 off to the house a prisoner. 
 
 Crooks was captured nay, ridden do - ->. by Oakeriburg 
 who, with immensely long legs, seeing a terrier-like little 
 man before him, with his back turned, deliberately cast his leg 
 over his shoulder, curled the limb completely about his neck, 
 and thus brought him down to earth ; when Millhouse took hiiij 
 Into keeping, by leisurely letting himself down upon the cap 
 tive, whose bristles of chin and cheek he curiously examined : 
 feeling tbo.m with his one hand, while commenting upon the 
 wonderful rapidity with which red or copper-colored beard- 1 
 shoot out. Crooks struggled fiercely, but it required the slight 
 est effort in the world on the part of the sergeant, to suffer his 
 ringers to slip from the chin to the throat of his captive. A 
 gripe of the weasand, by such steely prongs as Millhouse wore 
 by way of fingers, soon subdued all the bristles of the deputy, 
 whether of wrath or whisker. 
 
 While this was going on, Porgy was engaged in rescuing the 
 sheriff from Tom s clutches; a not easy matter. Our excellent 
 cook, assuming that he should certainly be permitted to strip, if 
 not to slay his prisoner, as had been his custom in battle, 
 was not willing to deliver the captive until his master promised 
 to account to him for his garments; when he suffered the dis 
 comfited sheriff to feel the solid earth once more. Porgy came 
 up and clapped the knight of the shire upon his shoulder 
 
 "Shall there be peace between us, colonel?" 
 
 "Peace! Captain Porgy, you have dishonored me! You 
 have still your sword in hand, and I have mine. I appeal to 
 your sense of honor, that we cross blades." 
 
 Pooh ! pooh ! my dear fellow, there s no need of that. lo 
 are already conquered ; don t you see." 
 
 " You will pay dreadfully for this ! You have killed seveia* 
 of my people." 
 
 " Not a man of them, unless the scare shall have done so. For 
 look you, my dear colonel, we went into the figbt with powdei 
 only. Not a pistol or gun was shotted !" 
 
 This made tl fj sheriff furious He cried 
 
488 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 "Bid your fellows stand oft , while we fight. There is no sham 
 in steel." 
 
 "And no shame to yon, my dear colonel, in heing shot at with 
 empty pistols. Pooh f pooh! man, can t y<u relish a good anny- 
 j">kc, now that you re .1 peace officer. Put up ymr sword, and 
 let us all in and have a stonp of .Jamaica 1 am in a lather of 
 perspiration." 
 
 T.iit the sheriff was not K) easily appea.-ed. and the dispute 
 went on, and, in spite ; -d humor which, now that 
 
 lie had gained the victory and enjoyed his jest was of the mHt 
 Denial description, there is no saying what might have lieen the 
 upshot of the business; when suddenly tin- tread of horses, and 
 the wheels of a carriage, u ere heard rumMing t ward them. 
 And soon the cunihnMis vehicle drew nigh, drawn, as was fre 
 quently the. fashion in th- hy four horses. Then a 
 voice, well known to both of the. parties, cried out from the 
 carriage 
 
 "Halloo! There! My hra\ e bellows, what have you lieen 
 
 About!" 
 
 The new-comer was the gallant and highly popular ( -hailes 
 -worth Pincknev a man, who, hut lor the riir.-.i; of prirty 
 would have heen subsequently made president of the Tinted 
 States. 
 
 "Ha! my dear Pinckney," answered I orgy, "you have come 
 in the nick of time to keep the peace. I have won a victory, hut 
 because 1 have heen merciful, I can not quiet those, whom I shoulc 
 have slain." 
 
 I inckncy got out of the Carnage, Stepped i>. tween the pa. -Ins 
 and heard the story. He had sped, hy the way, with all ha-t.i 
 after the sheriiV, to prevent difficulties. The latter, goaded hy 
 M Kewn, and somewhat mortified hy the 
 
 his expense, touching his former fortune stories Vfjy much 
 exaggerated had evaded the friends of I oig^ and - 
 his arrest, and to effect the le r y, wiiho.it their knowledge. .U 
 soon, however, as the fact was known, Pinckney started in pur 
 suit, lie came too late; and the. difficulties of his mission were 
 increased. But he was not the person to despair. He had 
 that twofold capacity, at once of persuasion aid command, 
 which rarely suffered him lo fail in influencing the minds of me./ 
 
THE 8KRIMMAGE AT GLEN-EBERLEY. 489 
 
 What, colonel," lie. said to the sheriff, "angry still, after 
 a li.-it you hear. This must, not be. We must reconcile you to 
 our friend, who, as we all kiiDw, will have his jest though lie dies 
 for it." 
 
 "Not at my expense at least." 
 
 "Surely not," said Pinckney, "and he will atone for every 
 inirt of honor that he has inflicted. T promise you this, my dear 
 follow, on my honor ; and now le. "s into his dwelling, and ue^ 
 with what sort of hospitality he will receive us." 
 
 "In with you all, good friends, all!" cried Porgy , "and if 
 nothing short of Glen-Eberley will suffice to satisfy you, Mr. 
 Sheriff, why, it is at your service. There s my hand on it, 
 and now in !" 
 
 The sheriff was somewhat reluctant still ; but Porgy seized 
 lus hand and shook it with vehemence, and Pinckney repeated 
 his assurance that every atonement should he made. The knight 
 of the shire was forced to yield. Crooks, the deputy, now re 
 lieved from the incumbent weight of Millhouse s body, was not 
 so easily pacified, but, when Pinckney becoming impatient, 
 told the sergeant to resume his captive, and the seat which he 
 had occupied with such effect, the little fellow cooled off, ano 
 followed the rest into the house. Here, for the first time, Porgy 
 was enabled to welcome his old associates, George Dennison 
 and Oakenburg, which he did with a hearty satisfaction that 
 |uite disturbed the sergeant. Il<? muttered sotto voce: 
 
 " Lord ha marcy ! now they re here, they ll stick, and nara 
 jne of em able to airn the salt to his hominy !" 
 
 Let us suppose the efforts of Pinckney to be successful in re 
 conciling the conflicting parties, and persuading the sheriff to re 
 ceive the apologies of Porgy, for all that had been personally of 
 fensive between them; apologies which Porgy gave without a 
 moment s scruple. But Crooks was to be hushed with other 
 coin. His hurts of honor were to be settled by some regard to 
 his pocket; and, after a little w! He, an exact estimate was made, 
 in money, of the amount of injury done to his self-esteem anu 
 honor. These affairs once adjusted, the question next was con 
 fined wholly to the satisfaction of the judgment in the case of 
 M Kewn v. Porgy a matter of move difficult arrangement 
 We will leave the three prominent persons, Pinckreyv the sher ft 
 
 $1* 
 
490 woo nn: A FT. 
 
 ana Porgy, engaged in this <li.srus.sion, in the parlor, aft*-,- snp 
 pei was over; while Sergeant Millhouie. well Vdpptted with 
 pipes and Jamaica, did tlie honors In-low stairs t<> the other guests 
 Framplon had suddenly disappeared after the "skrimmage 
 He excused himself >idy to (Jeorge DennUo s and to no other 
 parties did his ahsenee occasion any surprisr. It was probably 
 two Imurs after nightfall when he reappea 1 ed, and, suddenly 
 making his wav into the parlor where the Jiree prineipal pei- 
 sons were yrt engaged in the diseussirn, he called Porgy out to 
 the, piaxxa, and said. 
 
 "Beg pardon, eaptiiri, f"r troubling yn. ju.- t now, hu* y..u see 
 the matter is importair. There s the squ itter, l .o>M\ ick, he s 
 got back to his famil) . l*omp saw him in (he swamp, and when 
 Id i:ie, I put Pomp ami another t--i watch the squatter s 
 house, They saw little Dory go out, and one of them watched 
 e-r all he way <o M Ke\\n >; and to-night, a little after dark, 
 M Kewn went in to the squatter s cahin. He s with him now, 
 and they 1-oth may he caught together. I m a thinking that if 
 you was to ->}/.( upon the squatter, right away, and give him a 
 gOOd scare, with the pipe or the hiekories, you would get hack 
 
 that mahogany box of the widow Eveleigh, and find out allahout 
 your missing property, and the attack on the widow. 
 
 Lance Frampton was a brief, comprehensive speaker. He 
 hardly employed more words than these in making this re\ -elation. 
 Porgy felt its vast importance, and rightly estimated the utility 
 of prompt proceedings. He, at once, took Lance into the pai 
 lor and communicated his intelligence to his associates. Pinck- 
 ney was at once upon his feet. 
 
 "We must act instanter. The squatter must be seized; but 
 legally. Here s the proper officer. I can take your lieutenant s 
 affidavit and yours, embodying your suspicions, and issue the 
 warrant?, which will suffice to get one or both these parties into 
 custody the rest may follow; but rope or hickory, unless by 
 the proper hands, mot not be thought of. Call your deputies, 
 a couple of them, Mr. Sheriff, while I prepare the papers." 
 
 Five ninutes sufficed foi this . The parties, Pinckney at their 
 head, prepared to set forth Porgy was about to accompany them, 
 bit Pinckney objected. 
 
 Better n t you. Porgy. Your entanglements a*-*- quite suffi 
 
THE BOX OF PAPERS. 4&1 
 
 cient already, and you ll b(5 for grappling tnif fellow M KewD 
 on the spot, and pulling his n>se, or doing some outrageous thing. 
 Besides, your debt to him n akes your appearance, at the time 
 of his answer to such charges, a lather delicate proceeding." 
 
 " If I don t go with you, may I be !" was the reply of 
 
 the doughty captain, putting his pistols in l*is belt. 
 
 " Obstinate as ever ! But, as you will. How far is it ? Do 
 ire ride!" 
 
 " The horses are ready now, sir, >ras the reply of the prom*/ 
 lieutenant "Better ride to Cattle B.r\nch, captain, and then get 
 down and walk." 
 
 "Right, Lance, right! we must taae the rascals by surprise. 
 Gentlemen, to saddle." 
 
 CHAPTER LX1\ 
 
 THK BOX OF PAPERS, Ar D HOW PA O FOR. 
 
 UNDER the guidance of Lance 1 rampton, the party proceeded 
 tr the Cattle Branch. Here, they alig ited, fastened their horses 
 in the shelter of a bit of wood, and went forward on foot. At 
 tracted by the gleam of fire in the foresv Lance Frampton stole 
 away to see by what it was occasioned, and, without allowing 
 hi jnself to be .seen, he found the wife of {he squatter, little Dory, 
 Mid the two other children, cowering about the blaze of a fire 
 which they had kindled about two hundred yards from the house 
 of the squatter. Here, wrapped in blankets, and housing tli em- 
 selves as well as they could against the night wind, they waited 
 the conclusion of the conference between the confederate^ in the 
 cabin. Having ascertained, scout-fashion, all the necessary par 
 ticulars in the case, .Frampton rejoined his party and made his 
 report. They went forward, stealthily, toward the house, and 
 imitating the precautions of their guide, succeeded in approaching 
 it without disturbing the inmates. Through chinks between the 
 Irjp, from which the clay-plaster ^ig had fallen out, an l \)y the 
 agLi of * r^uple of tallow-candles which burnrvl iu tht 1 . chamber 
 
WUOIM.K.UT. 
 
 of the squatter. they could sec pretty much all that took place within. 
 I -ing our privile-e, we can witne- > the proceeding on ea>i< T l-nn.-, 
 and are aMc to report them from tin- beirinn; 
 
 Once in thu chamber, the family shut < ut, am? -eemv. 
 thoil-hl, a/:iiii>t surveillance, M Kewn appr-iirhed tile bedside of the 
 squatter, who raised himself up in the bed to receive him. 
 
 What s mad bitor. 
 
 "Sick! <> J aint much rick; aint too >i, k to do btl 
 Business ah\.v me well au in. Tin- si-hi of tin- g 
 
 i coming in, i ;re for m--, no matter what s Hi- 
 
 of ailment a-troublini; me. Ilev you brought the L r "tild, 
 
 " P.ui you are sick. I .-.-t wick, and very M M Kewn, 
 
 g the fiery eyes, tin- blotched features, and feeling the burniirj 
 hand of the patient . " V>u have a -ircliin^ fever, and look ill mil 
 of the , 
 
 <>! don t you mind about the eyes, I tell \mi. ef they once 
 iineas. and a -mart chaince of -em, they ll Lfit \\rll, and I ll 
 .liit well directly. He\ \\oii lirmi.Lrht them L r uineas ? I must h<-v % CIM, 
 and a .irn-at count ol ^! K^\vn." 
 
 Guineas: Why. man. you m-cd phy>ir now, rather than uuineas. 
 
 6 to cure this fever." 
 
 i! Send me physic 1 You! Never! I ll ii"t take any physic of 
 i/o i r mixini:, M Kewn. You re not the ope that I ll app int to bile 
 my uruel." 
 
 " \Vliy. you don t think I d poison you. do you?" 
 
 "That s jest \\hat I d be atVar d of, M \\< -.\n. YOU see, I kno\\>, 
 you, and you knows me. and I. tell you, there s only one sort of 
 physic I m willinir to take out of your hands, and that s ijmiJi) physic, 
 M Kewn. //// you brmi.irht them -uiii. 
 
 "I have! There are a hundred iruineas here, in this bair: but I ll 
 not irivo you one of them. P>ostwick. until I see ihat box of pap 
 until I get it delivered into my own hands." 
 
 " You won t, you say?" 
 
 "No! I will not !" 
 
 "Then you don t git em, that s all!" and the sick man hustled 
 the pillow, and a portion of the bed-clothes in a heap beneath 
 his head, with an appearance of care which did not escape the 
 observation of his visitor. "Look you, 31 Kewii," continued the 
 
THE BOX OF PAPERS. 493 
 
 squatter; "you don t hev them papers onless I gets five hundred 
 guineas." 
 
 "Five hundred guineas! Why, you re mad." 
 
 "No I aint ; I m only sensible. I m in want of a heap of 
 gould. I m a-guine to buy a farm and seven niggers for Dory. 
 I m a-guine to set her up, and make a lady of her. And she 
 shill be fine ; and shill hev fine clothes, silk and velvet : and 
 shill hev niggars to work for her in the cornfield, and a inaid- 
 sarvant to wait upon her, and help her put on her. clothes ; and 
 you re to pay for all." 
 
 "The devil, I am!" 
 
 "Yes! The devil you air! and bekaise you air a born devil, 
 and bekaise, jest now, I m your master, and kin make you work 
 for me, I ll make my child a lady of fortin . So you ll hev to 
 fork up the money, and do it han some. Ef I kain t git her 
 settled, han some, out of my airnings, I d like to know what s 
 the use of all my rapscalitics. Five hundred guineas is little 
 enough to aix you ; that is, after the hundred guineas you ve got 
 in the bag. Them you must leave with me, and go and get jest 
 five hundred more, and when I sees them counted out, fair be 
 fore me, ten piles and fifty in every one on them, then you shill 
 hev the box of papers ; and not a minute before." 
 
 And hear the squatter grasped the heap beneath his pillow, 
 with the air of a man making sure of his possessions. The keen 
 eye of M Kewn again observed the action, and his mind drew 
 instantly the proper inference from it. He observed, also, that 
 the excitement of the squatter was increasing. His eyes, now 
 more accustomed to the degree of light in the chamber, M Kewn 
 was enabled to see that Bostwick was really much more an in 
 valid than he had thought him at first ; though, even the first 
 glance had shown him that the man was very ill. He now be 
 gan to suspect that his mind was wandering. This conjecture 
 was reached, not so much because of the extravagance of his 
 demands, as from the wild and glittering terror of his eyes 
 which were dilating, as if about to burst out of their sockets 
 and shone like coals of "fire ; from the fitf ulness of his voice, 
 and the spasmodic action which accompanied his utterance. To 
 temporize with such a patient was his present policy. 
 
494 WOOIM KAIT. 
 
 "Well, but Bostwick, you surely eaii t expert me to pay this 
 mouey until I see the box of paper.-. " 
 
 "It s that very thing you hev to <!<> You hev to trust me 
 to the et nd of the bu>ines>. I /// T.V what I ve i;.>t, and knows 
 its valley to you. I kno\\s you kain t do without them pa; 
 and I kno\\> what 11 happen el them paper- -its auay f n , m !U y 
 liands to another pussun s. Kin you gueM \\hat would happen 
 ef the widow Kv legh got em, or Cappin Porgy, 01 erny oth<r 
 honest white man that knows //.//, and how you stands? 
 What s the valley to them? Kf taint five hundred -uinea^, I ll 
 give em for nothin . Yn shan t have cm for a shilling 1< 
 
 "Well. Bovtuiek. I don t -,y that they \\ill not be worth the 
 money, but 1 say that \ ou mu>t let :ne see them Jirxt, that I 
 may be sure of it." 
 
 " YIHI don t see em, M Kewn, tell the money ^ on the nail. 
 You xltill trust me, and 1 >rn t trust iju : for I kno\\- \ou, and 
 you re a born ra-eal. and I ll hani: you, M Kewn, for the jili-as- 
 ure of the IhiiiLT. ef so !>< you don t fork out. 
 
 "How long will it take you to get the paper.-, after I ltrii)L r 
 the money? " 
 
 "How long? How short, rather YOU kin hev em arter 
 that, as quick as you kin cry .lack IJnbin-on." 
 
 "Ah! and if I bring you live hundred guineas this very 
 nidit?" 
 
 "Then you kin git the papers this very niirht? And y<n 
 better bring em, M Kewn. for you sec, Dory must be a lady 
 I must make her rich as a ijueeu; she mu-t be able to can 
 high a head as the widow Kv leigh, and then she kin marry 
 young Arthur, the widow s son ; and lie likes her, and is guine 
 to marry her, jest as soon as I makes a lady of her, and i 
 her a fortin of niggers and a farm ; and you shall be at the 
 wedding, .M Kewn, though, by blisters, I should like to see you 
 hanging up, with your feet upon nothing, only the minute arter. 
 But, -bring the guineas, and make haste about it. Lord! How 
 my head aches and jumps. How my eyes burn! Bring the 
 guineas; I m a-longing to git shet of you, and to rail in Dory, 
 and make her a lady. Be quick, and you shill hev the cussed 
 papers, and ef you ain t quick, I ll be a hanging you like a brute 
 warmint. Oh! the head, how its ;i bu:,tinir!" 
 
THE BOX OF 1 APERS. 495 
 
 He sank upon the pillow as he ended, with an evident show 
 of increased suffering. 
 
 If I were quite sure, Bostwick, that you could produce the 
 papers as soon as I brought the money ! But you told me that 
 they were hid away in the swamp where nobody could find them." 
 
 " Swamp h-11 ! So they were, hid in the swamp once 
 upon a time; but, hain t I been thar sence I got back; hain t I 
 got em here, in this very house, whar I kin put hands on em 
 jest when I wants them ? Git the guineas, I say, and don t be 
 foolish with your questions; and when I sees Dory a lady of 
 fortin, with her farm and niggers, then you shill hev the box, 
 and much good may it do you." 
 
 Again the squatter sank back upon the pillow, with his hands 
 feebly and neverously feeling about it, as if to make himself se 
 cure of his possession. M Kewn now varied his game. 
 
 I don t believe a word you say, Bostwick, and now, let me 
 tell you, I saw the fellow, Tony Hines, at Smyzer s, he told me 
 that you had got no box, no papers " 
 
 " Ha ! Yes ! Don t I know that you saw Tony Hines, at 
 Smyzer s; and don t I know that you gin him physic, and called 
 yourself a doctor; and you p isoned him with your physic, and 
 killed him. Don t I know ? Does anything you do hide itself 
 from me ? I tracked you, like a sarpent, sence I got back; and I 
 know all your doings, sence I ve been home, as well as before. 
 That s another thing agin you ; your p isoning of Tony Hines." 
 
 " He s not dead, is he ?" 
 
 " Sure as you handled him ! I seed old Smyzer, and hairn 
 all about you. But don t be aggravatin me, I tell you, for I 
 kain t stand it. My head is jest a busting now. Ef you aggra 
 vates me, I ll hang you ! I ll git my gould from another pusson, 
 I ll sell you in the market ; I ll send off for Cappiii Porgy to 
 come to me. You hear, do you?" almost screaming. "And 
 now fork out the money, and let me see Dory a lady, w T ith a for 
 tin . It s as much of your neck s worth ef she don t git it right 
 away," 
 
 * You shall have the money, Bostwick. There are five hun 
 dred guineas, not one, in this bag." 
 
 " Let me feel it it don t look big enough for so much. You re 
 s lying to me, now; I knows you." 
 
49G WOODCRAFT. 
 
 "No! let me see v< ur box of paper-. Hold it in your own 
 hands, "while I count out the mone\ . 
 
 " Well ! I ll do tkot." 
 
 And tin- sick squatter made an effort to rise and turn about, 
 while one of his hands be.iran to remove the bed-clothes from 
 abput the pillow. M Kewn eagerly watched him, the kij 
 pended irt his hand. Tin- -quatter sudd-.-ntly j>aused, looked 
 round at this moment, and caught the glance of the Scotchman s 
 eye. ^ 
 
 "You re* great scamp, M K.-wn. I know you. Oh! you re 
 a warmint ! You dn t B66 tin- box till I sees the money count 
 ed out. Ii s here, you horn thief and rapscallion, but I won t 
 trust you so much as to ! < it. ontcl the money s put 
 
 :: here, the yallo\v birds, all a living about me, on the while 
 bed clothes, where I kin count Ym. IMank em down, and 
 when 1 B66fl cm. then you shill see the ]>:, 
 
 Once more the squatter sank back exhausted. inutteriiiL 1 
 inodically 
 
 " IMank (in down all for I>ory lady, tine fortin Arthur 
 Kv leiuh. lla halha! Don t I see? Don t I know it ll b*1 
 Kv lelgh. . / v Dorothy Kv lei-h " 
 
 M Kewn was apparently deposed to do as he was refjuired 
 to open his bai: of iruineas. and to count them out upon the bed- 
 ind the squatter, thouirh sinkin.sr back exhausted, wa- yet keenly 
 observant of all the inov ments of hi . IJuf, either the 
 
 ilemonstratioii was not seri,u-iy be.irun by the Scotchman, or his 
 purpose suddenly underwent a change. \\"hilc IK; looked upon 
 the seeminirly faint and feeble condition of the stniatter, other 
 purposes which he had already contemplated, rapidly ripened 
 for performance in his brain. The thoughts occurred to him 
 
 "Shall 1 continue at the mercy of this mi-erable wretch, \\hen 
 a little determination is all that is needful to extricate m 
 from his power. lb- has the box of papers beneath his pillow. 
 Of his possession of it, no one knows but myself. He can pvc 
 no evidence of its contents. No one sco us. The family is all 
 away. Why should I not possess my>elf of this testimony, and 
 destroy it? He cannot oppose me. He has not strength for it. 
 In a moment it is mine. In another moment I give it to the 
 
THE BOX OF PAPEKS. 497 
 
 flames. I were a fool to hesitate to suffer this auspicious moment 
 to escape me !" 
 
 The stillness of the scene the loneliness of the neighborhood 
 night and silence the feebleness of the squatter his own neces 
 sities and apprehensions all conspired to persuade M Kewn to 
 seize upon the desired possession. He saw directly where it 
 lay, and, though the head of the squatter rested upon it, no 
 great effort would be required, he thought, to tear it from 
 under him. The temptation was irresistible, and while Bost- 
 wick was looking to see the bag of gold laid bare before him, 
 M Kewn suddenly thrust it back into the pocket of the great 
 overcoat he Avore, and, in the same instant, seized upon the pile 
 of bedclothes which covered the box beneath the pillow, and, 
 with a violent grasp, tore it away upon the floor. The head 
 of the squatter, in consequence of the jerk, was thrown off, with 
 the pillow, from the box. The desired treasure was exposed, 
 fairly before the eyes of the Scotchman. He seized it eagerly; 
 but before he could drag it from its place, the squatter had 
 grappled with it also ; screaming out his fury, at the same time, 
 in the wildest accents. 
 
 " Ha ! you born thief, en that s your game, is it ? But two 
 kin play at that game, my honey ; and we ll see who s the best 
 man." 
 
 The squatter was now up in bed. Even in this situation, and 
 sick, M Kewn found him no easy customer. Lithe, active, and 
 accustomed to every sort of toil and encounter, his strength was 
 really surprising. For awhile the parties struggled for the box ; 
 but soon the squatter, more accustomed to the emergencies of 
 such a strife, suddenly relaxed his hold upon the object of con 
 tention, and caught hold of M Kewn himself. His lingers were 
 soon about the throat of the Scotchman. The latter found it no 
 slight matter to break away from the tenacious grasp of his op 
 ponent. But, still grasping the box, he finally succeeded in do 
 ing so. But he was not thus to escape in triumph. Bostwick 
 bounded after him, out of the bed, and fastened upon him again 
 with the claws of a young tiger. The fearful conflict was re 
 newed. After awhile M Kewn bore him back successfully, and 
 thrust him again upon the bed ; but even then he failed to throw 
 him off. The squatter ching to him with a spasmodic energy 
 
498 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 which seemed to increase hi- powers; and desperate by tin- op 
 position hf encountered. M Kewn fiercely smote him upon the 
 head with the box. twice, thrice holding it in both hands the 
 blows i-omini; down with a heavy, dull sound, as if upon a bank 
 of earth. 
 
 With a howl, rather than a cry. IJoMwirk -ei/ed his assailant 
 with a new hold ; takinir him now with both arms, about the 
 neek. and drawing him down upon him, where he lay. Here, 
 while almo>t fainting from his hurts and the exhaustion of Mich 
 a simple. In- BtTOVe, with hi- last wolfish in-tincis. t. bite and 
 rend, with hi- teeth, the enemy whom he could no longer injure 
 with hi- hands. At this -ta-c of tin- proceedings, and before 
 eitlier of the combatant- could conjecture the proximity of other 
 perBODS, P T-v IUMM "pen the door of the liovel with a single 
 stroke of hi- feet, and ru-lied into the room, followed clo-eK 
 by Pincknev. the -lierilT. and the rest of tin parly. 
 
 They did not appear a moment too soon. The head of the 
 squatter \\a- bleeding freely from -evera! hurt-; hi- teeth \\eiv 
 already sunk with the ferocious passjon of tin- wild hea-t, into 
 the throat of hi- a ailant. So f.-.-t was the hold which lie had 
 taken, that it was ditlicult to tear M Keun from hi- i:ra-p. The 
 ctl ort to do so draped the squatter from his bed upon the floor, 
 \\here he lay like a batlled and wounded panther, writhing and 
 shrieking in hi- a^ony and disappointment 
 
 M Krwn l.-t all presence of mind, all strength, the moment 
 he found himself in the pn -dice of other parties, lie had lin-n 
 fearfully breathed in the violent >truu r .L r lr through -Ahich he had 
 gone; but it was mental paralysis from which he now -ulleied. 
 A complcti- collapse of all the i-in-rL r i-s followed the exposure. 
 The box fell from his nerveless L r rasp. and wa> instantly picked 
 uj) by Lance Frampton. He stau Lrered liack toward the bed, 
 upon which he sank-, his jaws fell; and his stren-th sei-mrd 
 barely enough to allow him to cover his face with his hands. 
 In a single instant he became conscious that all was lost ; and 
 that he was self-delivered into the hands of his most powerful 
 enemies. 
 
 "You are my prisoner." said the sheriff to M Krwn, laying 
 nis hand on his shoulder. 
 
 He had not a word to answer; thoroughly overwhelmed by 
 
THE BOX OF PAPEKS. 499 
 
 the circumstances of his situation, and the fact that he had been 
 caught flagranti delicto. 
 
 "That s it! that s right!" cried the squatter, whose loss of 
 blood had brought him fairly to his senses, and who now, quite 
 as promptly as the Scotchman, appreciated all the difficulties of 
 his situation. "Take him prisoner," he cried "I m the wit 
 ness agin him, the infernal thief and tory, and murderer and villain; 
 that stole your niggers, Cappin Porgy; I carried him forty-three 
 on em that never kin git back all off your place and he sold 
 em to Moncrieff; and many more besides; but here s the box; 
 it s got the pretickilar papers to convict him and to hang him, 
 the villain, and the nigger thief, and murderer. You seed him 
 how he wanted to murder me in my own bed, and all to git 
 the papers, and to hush up my evidence; but he ll hev the justice 
 done to him at last, and I ll be a witness agin him ef they ll let me 
 go free, and pardon me for what I did for him. I did it only for 
 him." 
 
 "You are not forced to speak," said the sheriff. "It is just as 
 you please to be silent, or tell all that you know." 
 
 "I ll tell all I know! I m ready and willing, of my own free 
 consent." 
 
 " Stop! " said Pinckney; " let him be sworn. I have a reason for 
 it. Is there a Bible in the house? " 
 
 Porgy was able to find one. He knew where Dory kept it. 
 It was produced. Pinckney administered the oath; and the 
 squatter, in the hearing of the man he accused, made a tolerably 
 clean breast of it. He furnished a long and fearful history, the 
 character of which we can well conjecture from the portions al 
 ready put into our possession. The statements were all taken 
 down as delivered. M Kewn sank upon the bed utterly pros 
 trate, and incapable even of denial. The miserable criminal ab 
 solutely swooned under the prospect of discovery and con 
 viction. 
 
 "And now," cried the squatter, when he was done, "you ll git 
 me my pardon, won t you? I ve told all! Them papers in the 
 box will tell you something, too. He set me on to do what I 
 did, and he s got all the profit, the etarnal villain, that wanted 
 to murder me in my own bed, and me a sick man. You ll git 
 me off, cappin; and you, Colonel Pinckney I knows you, colo- 
 
f,(>() \\ (.(>!)( I! A IT. 
 
 nel! You ll u it me my pan. on. from tin- .irov nor. when I tell- nil 
 afore the court . " 
 
 "Yoq must -c-k your pardon of heaven, my poor fellow. "\\a> 
 
 the ansuer ,,f Pinckney, made with jr trinity. " The only 
 
 court which you will now be summon, la that of the I 
 
 ual Jud.nv of tin- world. Humble your-rlf before him with all the 
 
 vou can. id pray for the mediation of 
 
 Christ in your behalf. 1 de.-m it N$ 11 you that \ ou 
 
 /en now a dyiii.u man (lentleim-ri. the sooner the most of vou 
 
 ;u. the belter: this unhappy man i< dyimj of the 
 
 small-pox!" 
 
 ( II APTK II L.\ \ . 
 
 \-TKnIMIi;. 
 
 TIIO-K only \\ho know the It rn-rs in-pired by the small] 
 the period of which \\c writ. , can j-r-.p -rly appreciate tin- j>aiiic 
 which was occasioned by the speech of I inckncy. Amoi, 
 pie of the country, in particular. ! humanity was held 
 
 a wor>e danger than the jtla^uc of ihe lla-l. .M n who would fear 
 
 . brave the Held of battle, tied, at ihe bare inc,,iion of \\n> ; 
 without onct- looking behind them. !: wafl so on this occasion. Our 
 excellent captain of partisi: ^noiiir the liM to find hi> 
 
 way out of the hovel, lie was followed by all but Pine i. 
 the sherilT, his deputy, and the pri-om-r M Kewn. Tin 
 citi/.ens, were more accustomed to the pe.-t, and liail. we sup: 
 been all inoculated. They remained in the farther pn -edition of 
 the work before them. At the door. Pinckney proceeded to BUj 
 to Porgy the course to be pursued in respect to coincident 
 matters. 
 
 "You must see to this man s family, captain. Have them be 
 stowed in safety, in some place where they can not come in con 
 tact with persons not inoculated. If you or Mrs. Eveleigh have 
 any servants who have had the disease, send them here to at 
 tend upon this wretched creature. He will scarcely live aiiotlur 
 day; but send for Dr. Warley, and, in the meantime, let him 
 
CATASTROPHE. 501 
 
 have some cooling medicines and proper food. But see that you keep 
 his wife away, unless she has been inoculated which I suppose very 
 unlikely." 
 
 Porgy undertook all the necessary commissions. We will leave 
 him to execute them, which, we may add, in this place, he did with 
 equal diligence and effect. Returning to the chamber of the squatter, 
 Pinckney found him raving. 
 
 "The small-pox !" he cried. "Don t you tell me sich d d 
 
 foolishness. Taint no small-pox, I tell you ! It s only fever 
 it s a mighty hot fever, I know, and this fight with that etarnal 
 villain thar, has only made it worser and hotter ; but taint no 
 small-pox. Whar was I to git the small-pox, I wants to know; 
 me living ^in the swamps and here. Spose I was in town 1 was 
 that to give me sinall-pox, when I was thar a day only ? I know 
 better ! I know taint small-pox, and I ve got the strength of a 
 horse ; yet you tell me I m a dying man me a dying man, and 
 sich a mortal sinner ! Lord God ! ef I m so sick as all that, 
 send for the doctor. There s gould to pay him thar, in that 
 box. Thar s a hundred and fifty guineas in that box. Mind 
 you, it s Dory s money ; and thar s a bag of guineas in that bloody 
 villain s pocket, and by rights that s Dory s money too. Re 
 member Dory 1 Lord, whar s Dory ? Don t you let her come 
 nigh to me, ef it s small-pox I ve got ; but send for my wife to 
 nuss me. She s somewhar about in the woods. You ll see 
 by the fire. Send her here. What s she doing in the woods 
 when I m a-wanting her here ? Oh ! Lord, that I should come 
 to this ; and thar you stand, and a-doing nothing for me, and yet 
 you says I m a-dying of the small-pox. Yet don t I know it s 
 a lie? It s only clone to skear me ! And what does you want 
 to skear me for euy more ? Hevn t I told you all I know about 
 that bloody scamp? Ef you wants me to tell about the skrim- 
 mage, and how I had to shoot Dick Norris, you re clean mis 
 taken. I won t say a word ; I ll shet up, and you shall never 
 pry betwixt my teeth to see what s under my tongue. No ! nor 
 you shaint know about the blowing up of the vessel . She blow d 
 up, and what hed I to do with it? Thar was a train I knows 
 that and it ended in the three kags of gunpowder; but who 
 seed me put fire to it, I wants to know ? Whar s the pussou 
 here kin say he seed it, I d like to know ! No ! thar s no pusson 
 
502 WOOI Ml; \ IT. 
 
 and why should I hev the sm.-dl pox mitell you prove agin me 
 all these tilings? The small-px indeed! That s mighty foolish. 
 What should inve inc. a si rong man. useii to the city, the M 
 smallpox? 1 laughs at it, I tell you! I laugh-! Ha ha! 
 ha! and I snaps my lingers at it. Does that look like a d \iii.u 
 man? A dying man Lord Cod, hev many el BO be it - true 
 what these men njB\ <>h! my Cud hev marcy upon me 
 a -inner. 1 know I m a black sinner, and Hasted through and 
 through with the p ivon of >in : but el" I am. air you -nine to let 
 me die without a doctor, and arter 1 t< -I d y-u everything I 
 know d about that murdering villain thar? < MY I/.rd. -rml for 
 the doctor. Don t leave me to die. 1 kaint die! I \\on t die. 
 I hev a heap to do, to buy the r:n and to SCO 
 
 Dory a lady of 1 nrtin! Small p<>\ !, d d Taint no siuall- 
 POZ] It - a In.) fevei only. Ci\e me s.iinr writer. ( Jh ! how 
 it burns. I m a burning u[. I m all Mitten, and nobody to hel|> 
 me. Take him away, that bloody \illaiu thar : I in all afire 8O 
 IOIILT .- I him. Take him a\\ayand hitch him uj>. I .f I m 
 
 to die. I know who - io haiiLf. N\ together, Tin- old 
 
 Horny swore it should be so, and I lel d him! Oh! the black 
 villain, he s _ L r,,i to ham:, and that s the satNfa -li.m I ll hev .d tin- 
 last. I knows it, and he know-, it too He ^hall liani:. like 
 Dick Nnrri-. and nobody to sav<- his neck from cra< kin^r. 
 Indict through the head. He don t d (fiend. He don t. 
 
 But, oh! Lord, the tin- in my witals. Whar s that woman-- 
 whar s my wife to uive me di ink ? The -mall po\ I>ut don t you 
 let Dory come. F.\t n ef I dies, -In l to be a lady of fortin. Thar s 
 tho money. It s all for her : 
 
 \\ e need not listen farther to these ra\iii _ r s, though they wen- 
 still for some time longer, poured into the ear- of I inekney and 
 the sheriff, with unreasini: volume, and wonderful rapidity. The 
 fever was rapidly increasing in the brain. T\w disease was 
 doing its work with fearful speed and vigor. The terrilil-- 
 crets of a life of crime were delivered without a consciou-- 
 and the stroinr men shuddered as they heard, hardly de: mini: it pc 
 
 sible, from their previous experience, that society should possess an 
 
 individual capable of such a revelation of e\il deeds, the performance 
 of his own hands. 
 
 After a brief consultation with the sheriff, the latter, with a 
 
CATASTROPHE. 503 
 
 couple of his assistants, took M Kewn away. The latter was 
 passive in the hands of his guards. They conducted him to his 
 own house, and securing him in his chamber they put watches 
 upon the apartment, so that he could not escape. Porgy, mean 
 while, conveyed the wife of the squatter, with Dory and the two 
 other children, to his own dwelling, in which he assigned them 
 the best apartments. Lance Frampton went after Doctor Warley, 
 the ablest and nearest physician upon the river, while a couple 
 of elderly slaves, both of whom had passed through the fearful 
 disease which was consuming the life of the squatter, were sent 
 by Mrs. Eveleigh to attend upon him. Cooling medicines, bev 
 erages, and delicacies, such as might be thought calculated to 
 alleviate the sufferings, or meet the wants of the patient, were 
 provided, and, by dawn the next day, he was in as good hands, 
 and as carefully attended, as was possible under the circum 
 stances. Doctor "Warley was soon with him; but the first glance 
 at the patient showed that all efforts would be made in vain. 
 The type of the desease was singularly malignant; and exposure 
 in the swamps, violent passions, and vexing strifes and anxieties, 
 had added fearfully to its virulence. Within the time predicted 
 by Pinckney, he was a corpse. 
 
 A conference ensued between Pinckney, the sheriff and 
 M Kewn, at the house of the latter. He was still in close keep 
 ing. The charges against him were of a sufficiently serious 
 character, involving not simply his fortune, but his life. He felt 
 all the dangers of his situation. In the first feeling of utter 
 hopelessness, he humbly entreated the mercy and forbearance 
 of the prosecutors. The better to secure this, he produced the 
 bond and mortgage of Porgy he entered satisfaction upon them, 
 and upon the judgments which he also held against the rest of 
 his debtor s property. He confessed to a participation in the sale 
 of the forty-three slaves abducted from the captain s plantation, 
 as charged by the squatter, and as confirmed by the documents, 
 now open before them, from the box of the widow. There was, 
 perhaps, no confession necessary. The conviction would be quite 
 
504 WOODCRAFT, 
 
 complete without it. Hut M Kewn - p .- to make a merit 
 
 of necessity. As lit- be^an to recover hi* contideiu r removed 
 from tin- fearful >L r hN and BOSOM in the cottage of the squatter 
 he ventured to ur-e upon Pinckney and the sheriiT, the ron- 
 cessions he had voluntarily made as a plea for ><>me induL 
 II - tendered hail, but neither of them was authori/.ed t 
 cei\c it. He pleaded for a mitigation of tip 
 
 tineincnt; Jmt on this point. I inekii -y referred the matter wholly 
 to the sheriff, who, thereupon, iiMead of lesseiiini: tlie shai ; 
 of liis watch, increa-ed it, leaving one of }\\< most truMy deputies 
 within the chamber of the criminal. This mnn. M Krwn attempt 
 ed to bribe with a large amount of money in gold, lint the dep- 
 utv \\as invincible. Th - crimin.-d opened the chest within his 
 chamber, the Contents of which v\ e haw already seen, when 
 the squatter wa- itermitted the same prh :d divu forth 
 
 a pile of the glitterim: treasure, so da/xlim. 1 - to LT and 
 
 dro\\sy cm 
 
 " You shall have it all." said he. in a husky whisper, "only 
 secure the fellow in the pa a-e until I can -et olT. You can 
 both make oil with it with nil that you can carry ami you 
 need not then dread expo-lire." 
 
 The amount thus proiTered * mptation for a poor 
 
 man; but this one,- who. by the way, had not the coura: 
 stand the threatened lead of Captain Ponry and hi- veterans, 
 had yet the tirmnt to -ay to the temp- ! tln-e beliind 
 
 me." It mii:ht be that his virtue rned by his f 
 
 and by the knowledge that there were Other watehe: 
 himself, but we prefer, for the sake of humanity, to believe in 
 the fellow s virtue. \Ve continually do mischief to moral-, by 
 assuming too low a standard of virtue for the poor. 
 
 I>eci ivi-d and bailie*!. .M Kewn mvw morose. Food wa- broiiLrht 
 him at the proper hour. He refused to eat. The dinner-hour 
 passed. >u-ht came on. lie would take no supper. Hut he 
 drank, if he did not eat. He drank till his cheeks were Hushed, 
 and his eyes wore a ferocious and glazed i-xpivs-iori. which the dep 
 uty dreaded very much to behold. About an hour after nijrht, the 
 Sheriff entered the chamber, and said 
 
 "This man Bostwick is evidently dying. Dr. Warley thinks he 
 can not live through the night." 
 
CATASTROPHE. 505 
 
 The teeth of M Kcwn gnashed fiercely. 
 
 " What is that to me ! Let him die and " 
 
 The sentence remained unfinished. The sheriff readily guessed 
 the words with which he would have supplied the blank. He 
 turned away and left the prisoner ; but, seeing his condition, 
 and suspecting in some degree the cause, he removed the decanter 
 of Jamaica which stood upon the table. M Kewn saw the act, 
 but said nothing. He possibly felt that it would be useless to 
 expostulate. At twelve that night, the squatter died, howling, 
 in the wildest agonies, physical and mental, with horrible curses 
 on his lips. An imprecation upon the head of M Kewn, while 
 his fingers seemed to grapple and rend something in the air before 
 him, finished the awful scene, which Pinckney witnessed with 
 the physician. Glad to escape into fresh air, he mounted his 
 horse, the moment the scene was over, and galloped off to Glen- 
 Eberley. Here supper awaited him, and the partisan, and sheriff, 
 with their companions. They had scarcely seated themselves and 
 begun to partake, when they heard the tramplings of a horse at 
 full speed, and, a moment after, one of the deputies, left in charge 
 of M Kewn, bounded into the room, his checks pale, and his eyes 
 wild with fright. 
 
 "How now, my good fellow, what s the matter ?" demanded the 
 sheriff. " What has scared you? " 
 
 "Oh! Sir, the prisoner s blowed his brains out." 
 
 All the party started to their feet. 
 
 * Have the horses got, Lance! " said Porgy promptly. 
 
 " How was it? " demanded the sheriff. The deputy s story ran as 
 follows: 
 
 It appears that the moody sullenness of M Kewn continued. 
 He demanded more drink. It was denied him, according to the 
 instructions of the sheriff. He suddenly supplied himself with 
 more from a closet, and his keeper did not think himself author 
 ized to take it from him by force. As the night advanced his 
 potations increased in frequency, and his sullennness and ferocity 
 were succeeded by a fit of extreme nervous susceptibility. He 
 would start up and exclaim passionately, then sink down in his 
 chair and cover his face with his hands ; but he could not continue 
 long in this or any other position. At length, he suddenly confronted 
 the keeper 
 
506 WOODCRAIT. 
 
 " Let me out," said he, " I must go and see Bostwick. He baa 
 sent for me to come. He calls for me. I hear him." 
 
 The keeper refu-ed. 
 
 "Will you go to him then for me? I will pay you. ,s r < 
 Look here. You shall have all this, if you \vill pi to him with a 
 
 manage." 
 
 And he opened the chest and, kneeling by it. took up several 
 pieces of gold, which he counted from one palm to the other. The 
 keeper still refusing, he Hung the gold back into the chest and 
 seemed about to rise, when he Middenh exclaimed 
 
 "Don t you hear him? Be IB there! He is herel He hale, me to 
 him. I must go!" 
 
 And he seemed to follow with his eyea the motion of a person 
 unseen. Then he threw himself into an attitude, still over tin- client. 
 as if about to struggle with a foe. 
 
 "I will never go," lie cried. "To the gallows, yooitelf, 
 wretch; Init you do not carry me. No! No! I defy you. The 
 devil, you >ay The devil! IMiaw! I am not to be frightened in 
 that way 
 
 Then, a- if suddenly tilled with terror, he crouched and buried 
 his head in the che-i crying out 
 
 "He halei me away he i\ ton Strong! Help! Help! T 
 can not stand it:" and. rising, with a cry, from the chest, the 
 deputy, for the lir-t time, saw that he had a pistol in each hand. 
 With these lie Memed to confront s..me unseen enemy. He 
 made no demonstrations upon the guard, who did not dan- to 
 approach him, thus wcaponed. At length, as if about to be 
 overcome, he retreated to the opposite side of the room, crying 
 out 
 
 Do not press me to the wall. If you do, if you dare Oh! 
 my God my God! He will come!" 
 
 With these words, he discharged one of the pistols at the imagin 
 ary object, then cried, while every limb trembled with horror 
 
 "It went through him, and he does not fall. He comes still. 
 Oh!" with a choking cry "His fingers are upon my throat ! Oh: 
 God , have mercy ! " 
 
 Thus speaking, he clapped the other pistol to his own head, and, 
 with the crash of the report, sank down in a heap upon the floor, 
 utterly lifeless, with his forehead entirely blown away. 
 
THE GRAPES ARE SOUR. 507 
 
 Such was the story told by the guard. According to the state 
 ment of time, there could not have been five minutes between the 
 death of the two miserable criminals. Enough ! 
 
 " Draw the curtain close, 
 And let us in to meditation." 
 
 CHAPTER LXVI. 
 
 THE GRAPES ARE SOUR! 
 
 IT was a remarkable proof of providential interposition so 
 thought in those days at least that not one of the persons who 
 came in contact with the squatter in his last illness, caught the 
 small-pox from him. Yet his wife, little Dory, and the two other 
 children, had been, for three days at least, constantly in the sick 
 man s chamber. This was held a wonderful proof of God s gra 
 cious favor; and to those who knew the contagious character of 
 that malignant pest, it was certainly a very remarkable circum 
 stance. 
 
 After a proper interval, the humble family was again permit 
 ted to commune with its former patrons. Mrs. Eveleigh took Dory 
 into her house, and the united appropriations of the widow and our 
 captain, made ample provision for the future comfort of the mother 
 and the other children, in a little farm of her own, where she dwelt 
 forever after, in a condition of humble comfort, which left her little 
 to desire. Porgy gave her an old negro, and the widow^Eveleigh a 
 young one. Little Dory had a teacher provided for her, and, in a 
 superior society, and with proper education, the native talents and 
 graces of the child daily exhibited new blooms, and the sweetest 
 developments. In process of time, when she grew to womanhood, 
 her charms made themselves felt in every heart with which her own 
 came in contact, until but let us not anticipate. Let us return to 
 our principal parties. 
 
 Glen-Eberley, by the events recorded in our last chapter, was 
 made secure to its proprietor. Our captain of partisans was re 
 lieved of all his embarrassments. His debt to Mrs. Eveleigh was 
 not of this order. The profits of the plantation were quite ade- 
 
WOODCRAFT, 
 
 qualc, with u feu indulgence, to liquidate thi>. and all 
 
 other obligations of a pecuniary nature. Pori. r \ . at laM, fuinil 
 shelter beneath hi with noi:e to make him afraid. He 
 
 had his friends about him, hi-, Mnging-binl, and hi* pu//le in a 
 bottle. G r Oakcnhurg, much to the 
 
 disquiet of Millho;. <,he C stablishnieiit. Tlic 
 
 f lrnMi. d the liallads for the evening fireside; the other 
 content to provoke the^vi! of others, \\ithout 
 
 of it hiinself. Th-- still delivered (tie law from his sell - 
 
 c-tahlHicd tripod. He Wit still an oracle who suflVn-d no don; 
 to bark, i Yampton was a frequent vi-ii.-r. and so 
 
 more, was Arthur . ., ><1 fellowship, and 
 
 piquant matter of remark, though still occasionally >u>pici< ; 
 the captain s inclinations to his mother. On thi 
 he no l<,n-_vr ventured to exhibit hi* bo\i>h peinlancr. Tie 
 
 rebuke of his otherwise p-ntlc and a!Tectionat: mother, had 
 j)i-Mved (juiir sulVicient to curb, at li-a^t for th< iicyoun^ 
 
 tiLTer striving within him; and. to sum up in a word. (Ilen-Kb- 
 
 iited to they ve the condition <.fa wcll-mana. iiM. 
 
 in which tin- part; ;ll at peace with themselves and one 
 
 another. 
 
 The same tiling rniiiht be said of the neighborhood. The . r c- 
 nial moods prevailing in the OIK- household radiated in all d 
 tions. (Jlen-Klicrley became a srt of center for 1h" parish civili 
 zation. The charm v, of salient a traclion 
 which drew the ^i-ntry. all around, within the sphere of its trenial, 
 yet provocative intlueih of anxiety. 1 oriry resumed his 
 ancient spirit. The ]>i(juaney of his society, v nrhef ;:e- 
 knowledpf!; and, with the sergeant and Doctor Oakenbur 
 his foils, the liumor of our captain of parti.sins wsa irn-i-tihlc. 
 Fun and jihilosophy wore strangely minirled in him, "and they 
 wroughl together in unison. To ri>e from a praftir-al je-t into 
 fields of fanciful speculation, was -m habitual with our 
 camp philosopher. To narrate the experiences through which he 
 had gone, delivering history and biography, anecdote and opinion, 
 with the ease of a well bred gentleman over his wine and walnuts, 
 was to him an art familiar as the adjustment of his neck-cloth. 
 And these things were all delivered with a spirit and a quaintness 
 giving them wonderful relish, and which was peculiarly his owa 
 
THE GKAPES ARE SOUR ! 509 
 
 Thus the days glided by as if all were winged with sunshine 
 Thus the nights escaped all efforts to delay them, too brief for 
 the enjoyment which they brought. It may be that we shall 
 some days depict these happy times, the " Humors of Glen- 
 Eberley," even as they were well remembered by many / thirty 
 years ago, in all that cluster of parishes which lie between the 
 Ashley and the eastern margin of the Savannah ; but, at present, 
 we can refer to them only. Enough, that peace reigned in the 
 household, under the strong will, and the happy temperament of 
 its chief ; that the dangers which threatened from without, were 
 all overcome, in consequence of the events already recorded ; the 
 sheriff had been soothed by ample apologies from Porgy, to which 
 Pinckney easily persuaded him ; and Crooks, the deputy, seasonably 
 sauced with good words and hush-money, was easily persuaded 
 to believe that his digestion was totally unhurt by the unnatural 
 sort of repast which he had been made to swallow by the lawless 
 partisans. Tom, we may here mention, was bought back from the 
 widow Eveleigh, and received a gift of himself, from Porgy, which 
 he cunningly rejected. 
 
 "No! no! maussa," he cried, with a sly shake of the head, 
 "I kain t t ink ob letting you off dis way. Ef / doesn t b long 
 to you, you b longs to me ! You hab for keep dis nigger long as 
 he lib ; and him for keep you. You hab for fin he didner, and 
 Tom hab for cook em. Free nigger no hab any body for fin 
 em he bittle [victuals]; and de man wha hab sense and good 
 maussa, at de same time, he s ad n pertickilar great big fool, 
 for let he maussa off from keep cm and fin em. I no guine to 
 be free no way you kin fix it ; so maussa, don t you bodder me 
 wid dis nonsense t ing bout free paper any more. I s w r ell off 
 whar I is, I tell you ; and I much rudder [rather] b long to good 
 maussa, wha I lub, dan be my own maussa and quarrel wid 
 rnese f ebbery day. Da s it ! You yerry now ? I say de wud for 
 all ! You b longs to me Tom, jes as much as me Tom b long 
 to you ; and you nebber guine git you free paper from me long as 
 you lib." 
 
 Thus the matter was settled, and Tom continued to the end of the 
 chapter, the cook and proprietor of his master. 
 
510 WOODCKAI I. 
 
 It was probably time months after his emancipation from the 
 bond of the .-herilT. that Captain Prgy. <>ne. morning, made his 
 appearance at breakfast in full dress. Hi- toilet had been pre 
 pared with a much nicer care than u.Mial. His beard, which 
 shame t<> OOOfl sometimes allowed to grow wild ! 
 
 week, was now carefully pruned down, leaving the smootheel 
 possible surface of chin and check. He iTOfe his hull small 
 clothes, and his new blue coat, \viih irreal shining butt(ns. II! 
 neck-cloth was a -ky blue silk, which had ;i worn. 
 
 Hi- >ilk Moekinir- \\erc of the mo-t irrepn.achable tlesh color, 
 and Poinpey had done hi- ! - t make 
 
 them emulate, in the irlitteiing shine of the tine 
 
 patent leather of the present day. The \\hole appearance of our 
 captain was <o fre-h and .-o uniiiue. that hi- pre-ciiee cau-ed an 
 immediate .M n-ati"i). The improvement in hi- toilet struck all 
 parties. Millhoiise could not forbear an exclamation, and 
 Oakenbuig opened hi- eye- a- he miuht have done at the 
 
 new and hitherto unsuspected -pecie- of rattlesnake or \ip.r. 
 Denni-on only smiled, and said .-omethin.^ tnuehin.ir the premature 
 coming of the sjirin.i:. 
 
 " We shall soon be looking for the swallows, <-a|>tain." 
 
 "()ne would think that we had them here alread\." roplied tiie 
 captain, ^lanein.i; oblitjuely at the enorrnou- bowls of collee which 
 Pomp was pouring <it at the moment. No more wa- .-aid. Hut 
 when, after breakfast, Pori:\ ordcreil hi.- hor-e, the sergeant immedi 
 ately became enlightened on the subject. The di.-appearan<< of the 
 captain oju iied the fountains of his -peech. 
 
 "I knowed it. "quoth the " It - t" happen at la-t. Well, 
 
 its all ri.L ht. It mout ha l-en done, a year a_ r o. and twould ha 
 saved some trouble. But it s never too late. I see I ll have to open 
 new lands " 
 
 What s to happen?" demanded Denni-on. 
 
 "Don t you see. lie - ^oiie a-courtinir." 
 
 "A courting? " 
 
 " Yes! he gone off now, I m main sartin, to pop the question 
 to the widow. Well, she s got a smart chaincc of niggers, and 
 when they gits hitched fairly, my force will be something worth 
 counting. I ll begin to c lar up my gum land to-morrow. I ll 
 put iu a hundred more acres thi- season. Lord ; \\hat we tliout 
 
THE GRAPES ARE SOUR ! 511 
 
 ha done a year ago, ef the cappin hadn t been so mealy- 
 mouthed." 
 
 And you think he s gone to be married ! " demanded Oakenburg 
 "a wife/ 
 
 "To be sure! What else! I knows it a wife it is! and sich a 
 wife. She s got more than a hundred niggers, and I ll hev to 
 manage em all. But I ll tell you what she ll manage you. She ll 
 not hev you idle fellers about the premises. A wife that has been 
 a wife before, and s had the managing of her own affairs so long, 
 she ain t gwine to hev her house filled up with warmin, She ll hev 
 a clearing, I tell you both. Singing-birds and snake-catchers aint 
 gwine to eat her out of house and home. She ll find out what s the 
 wartues of work in you, or she ll make you pack. Sich a broom 
 as she ll bring with her when she comes, will sweep away all the 
 rubbish." 
 
 The communication caused Oakenburg to look blank. Den- 
 nison, with that rare disregard of to-morrow, which is supposed 
 to mark the poetical nature, only laughed, and went off, hum 
 ming an old English ditty about stirring housewives and fairy 
 besoms. Meanwhile, Porgy pursued his way, as the sergeant 
 had truly conjectured, to the dwelling of the widow Eveleigh. 
 The sergeant had no less truly divined his object in the visit, For 
 some time past, the captain had been meditating the obligations 
 which he owed the widow. He reflected upon what Millhouse had 
 repeatedly suggested to him in respect to the tender sort of 
 interest which she was supposed to feel for himself. This might 
 be a well-founded suggestion. Repeated examinations of the 
 matter, in his own mind, had not persuaded him that the interest 
 of the widow was anything more than that of a friend. 
 Still, it was possible; and if it were really the case that she 
 entertained any stronger sentiment in his favor, it would certainly, 
 as the sergeant had said "be a most cruelsome thing that 
 she shouldn t hev the man she wanted, pertickilarly when she 
 had done so much for his sarcumstances." Porgy felt the in 
 gratitude of any such neglect, on his part, supposing any such 
 feeling on hers, and gratitude furnished a crutch where love 
 might have faltered lamely and failed in his approaches. Re 
 peated meditations had brought the captain to a definite con 
 clusion; and he had armed himself to "come to the sticking 
 
512 WOODCRAFT. 
 
 point," in other words, to make her a 1 onnul oll er, 
 heart and household. 
 
 Fortunatt ly for his purpi M- lie found her at home and alone. 
 Dory had --..in- on a visit to her mother Arthur h;ul set forth 
 on a tier r hunt with Fr.impton and s ,mc other young men. 
 WBfl probably known 1 \\heii lie cho.xe thJ ; his 
 
 demonstrations, lie found tlie widow a> kind and frank, ! 
 and agreeable, as ever; and after chatting on a variety of t. 
 he gradually brought the one subject in ])articular to hear. He 
 . er\ niee. ;n:d M he thought, very jiidieioii- in his prelim- 
 inarics. He di in the abstrar! Bfl a beauti- 
 
 ful and admirably -conn ivd condition for human beings; he di>- 
 coined of his own wa; Of < . he forbore any 
 
 allusion tow):.. < ^ SUH|)OMMI her wants al-o. 1 lc \\ as j.U-ad- 
 
 in.iT and humble and ^.licitnu-. and rea> ( .nable and re\ erential. and 
 touching and truthful: and, in short, without throwing himself 
 absolutely at her fa larcii himself so, and \\itliout actually 
 
 takin.i: her in lii- U1D8, I anxiety i. do -<;- and 
 
 this, \ve are bound to say. in the best possible style with jiroper 
 modexty and mi-- ivinir. 
 
 Tin- widow, with a sweet smile, laid her hand upon his own, and 
 said as renlly and tenderly, but as ealmh 
 
 dear captain, why is it that men and women can not main 
 tain an intercour-c. av friend-, without Becking any other relation. 
 Is it not astonishing that such a tiling should serin impossible to 
 everybody? Mow. why should not you and 1 be true friends, losin.i: 
 friends, trusting each other with thrutnn.M c. -nt nlcncc. coinin.i: and 
 ^oimr when we pit a-r \\ elcomed \\lnii v,c come, regretted when 
 we have to depart and never perilliiiLT the intimacy of friendship 
 by the fetters of mutrinn ny. Can t it be so with us, my 
 dear captain and why not? I confess [ think I feel that 
 we may be very dear friends, captain, for all our lives; triad in 
 each other s society, doin^ each ether kindly and a fleet i. 
 cilices faithful always and always confiding, as friends, and 
 nothing more." 
 
 The captain answered confusedly. The widow proceeded. 
 
 "The fact is, captain, if you look at the matter properly, you 
 will see that it is quite impossible that we should marry. AVe 
 bhould risk much and gain little by such a tie. I confess to you 
 
THE GRAPES ARE SOUR ! 513 
 
 that were I again to marry, I know no person to whom I should 
 be more willing to trust my happiness than yourself." 
 
 The captain squeezed her hand. 
 
 "But, captain, I am willing to trust myself to nobody again. 
 I have been too long my own mistress to submit to authority. 
 I have a certain spice of independence in my temper, which 
 would argue no security for the rule which seeks to restrain me ; 
 and you, if I am any judge of men, have a certain imperative 
 mood which would make you very despotic, should you meet 
 with resistance. There would be peace and friendship between 
 us, my dear captain nay love so long as we maintain our 
 separate independence ; and, in this faith, I am unwilling to risk 
 anything by any change in our relations. Let there be peace, 
 and friendship, and love between us, but never a word more 
 of marriage. There is my hand, captain, in pledge of my good 
 faith, my friendship, my affectionate interest in yourself and 
 fortunes my pleasure in your society and you must be content 
 with that. Will you, captain ? For my sake, let me entreat, and 
 please say no more of other matters." 
 
 Porgy took her hand and carried it to his lips. 
 
 God bless you, my dear widow, and believe me grateful for 
 what you are willing to bestow. I must be content will be 
 assured of such a friendship as your heart is capable of. You 
 are right, perhaps, and yet 
 
 " No doubt I am right. We know each other, and there shall 
 be no -misunderstanding between us. You must stay to dinner 
 with me today, that I may be sure you feel no impatience with 
 me." 
 
 And he stayed. 
 
 But the idea of marriage had, for the time, taken particular 
 possession of the brain of our captain. Three days after, he 
 rode over to see the widow Griffin ; but on this occasion, he did 
 not take the same pains with his costume as when he visited the 
 other widow. His dress was less pretending, and more somber 
 of hue. The captain knew, before he started that the widow 
 was alone. Lance Frampton had /gone on a visit with his wife 
 to Dorchester, the scene of some his own exploits during the 
 
 22* 
 
514 WOODCIIAIT 
 
 war, and where In- had some relatives. Porgy found tho widow 
 in good health and trim, and especially in good spirits. Her 
 welcome was ai\\a\s genial, and she looked particularly charm 
 ing, though in ordinary household gear. Sin- was at her spin- 
 ning-wlicel \\hen lie came. A basket of carded cotton .stood 
 beside her, and M dw drew oil the threads from tlie wheel, ap 
 proached it and retired, he thought her as graceful ifl a \oung 
 dam-el of sixieen. For the liM time in his life, he fancied that 
 spinning was a particularly picturesque performance, and won 
 deivd that he had not seen it more frequently delineated in 
 picture-. 
 
 .Mrs. (iriflin was very lively -and good humored, and the cap 
 tain gradually became more and more gallant. After awhile, he 
 olliciated someuhat in her operations. Now, he drew the basket 
 of cotton to her side. Anon. \\lien she doired to move the wheel. 
 be caught up one end of it, while she took the other. It 
 thus borne into the pia//a. llie better to all nrd room for her pi<> 
 ceedin-s. In the obsCUVB situation of tlie cottage, ofT the public 
 road, and surrounded by great shad 08, the pia/./a was 
 
 ely lea private than the hall. The feeling of privacy had 
 it- elTeet on I 1 Boon, lie became more frequent in the little 
 
 helps lie gave tlie widow, and. at length, when putting aside her 
 spinning, she proceeded to reel of] a pile of yarn, the captain 
 forced away the reel, and gallantly thrust his own arms through 
 the hanks. It was in \ain that the good, simple (Jritliii. wonder 
 ing in discomfiture at this self humiliation on the part of the 
 captain, strove airain-t it. He gave her a tierce smack upon the 
 lips with his own, and thus put an end to all her elTorls to re- 
 - herself of the thiead. 
 
 Then he placed himself before her in a great chair, his arms 
 extended to the uttermost, hi- eyet surveying her tenderly, while 
 she. with downcast looks, proceeded, as the sultan ruled, to ivi.l 
 off the threads as well as she might from the digits of her awk 
 ward auxiliary. The picture was a sufficiently ludicrous one, 
 but it may be better fancied than described. (Jriflin might have 
 seen probably did see, the grotesque absurdity of the scene; 
 but Porgy was in his Arcadian mood, and certain feelings which 
 he had in reserve, made him obtuse in respect to the queer figure 
 which he cut in this novel employment. 
 
THE GHAPES ARE SOUR ! 515 
 
 He was startled into a full consciousness of his ridiculous 
 situation, by the sudden appearance, in front of the house, on 
 horseback, of the widow Eveleigh and her son Arthur. In the 
 chat which the captain had kept up, tender and sentimental, and 
 perhaps a little saucy, neither Griffin nor himself had heard the 
 sound of the horses, until escape was impossible. The parties 
 Were fairly caught. The first thought of the captain, when he 
 looked up at the sudden noise and saw who were the visitors, 
 was to fling the yarn over Griffin s head ; at all events to fling it 
 from his arms ; but the mischievous threads adhered tenaciously 
 to the broadcloth, and caught upon the buttons at his wrist, and 
 tangled itself about his fingers, as if each thread were a spirit 
 of disorder, sent especially for his discomfort and defeat. When 
 he sought to rise it fell in a mass upon his feet, and when he 
 strove to kick it off, the feet got involved within the meshes, so 
 that he dared not take a step forward lest he should lay himself 
 out, at full length, along the piazza. As for the yarn, before he 
 got out of its meshes, it was one inextricable mass of disorder, which 
 filled the eyes of Griffin with consternation to behold. 
 
 The pair were really in most pitiable plight ; an awkward con 
 sciousness of the ludicrousness of the picture they afforded to the 
 new-comers, striking them both irresistibly for the first time. 
 But Porgy s consciousness was particularly vexing upon other 
 grounds. To be seen in such a relation to the one widow, after 
 seeking such a relation with the other ! As the poor captain 
 meditated upon the matter, which he did in a single instant of 
 time, his face streamed with perspiration, though the month of 
 March, when the event happened, is considered a tolerably cool one, 
 even in a Carolina climate. 
 
 Porgy hardly dared encounter the eye of the widow Eveleigh, 
 who had alighted with her son, and now entered. But he strove 
 to pluck up courage, and, in seeking to appear lively, he simply 
 showed himself nervous. When he did catch the eyes of the 
 widow, he saw them filled with a significantly smiling speech, 
 which added to his confusion. She gave him her hand, however, 
 very frankly observing, as she did so 
 
 " What, in our times, Hercules subdued to the distaff ! " 
 
 " Ah ! my dear widow, it is only woman that finds the hero weak. 
 That you should have seen me at this folly ! " 
 
516 WOODCRA IT. 
 
 This was said in something of a whisper. 
 
 "Do not count it folly," answered the widow. "It is through 
 the weakness of the man that we know his proper strength. 
 That one is able to forget his dignities, only shows that his heart 
 has not been forgotten. Hut, truth to speak, my dear captain, the 
 picture was an amusing one. " 
 
 "Funny ! very ! It must have been." This was said with a 
 ludicrous attempt to smile, whieh resulted in a grin. Porgy s plan of 
 courtship was exploded for that <lay, and for a goodly week after 
 ward. But the purpose was not abandoned. 
 
 It was about ten days after, when the captain took occasion to 
 revisit the widow (Jriflin. Frampton and liK wife were still ab 
 sent. Mill house Arthur Kveleigh, and George Denni-nn, \\en- 
 off on a deer hunt somewhere down the river ; and I .ngy having 
 smoked his after dinner pipe, and feeling dull, if not drmv-y, hav 
 ing dined alone, resolved brielly the desolateucss of his state, 
 and, under a sudden call to change it. ordered his horse, deter 
 mined to woo the widow Grillin after the most lion like fashion. 
 To confess another of our captain s weaknesses, he had but little 
 doubt of success in his present quest. Grillin had been so docile, 
 80 gentle, so solicitous (l f hi- ease and comfort, that he really 
 persuaded himself he had but to >,.,!< \,> M-eure. And so he 
 rode. 
 
 A pretty smart canter soon brought him to her door, where 
 the spectacle that confounded him was even more a>toni>bing to 
 his sight, than the situation could have been to the widow i 
 leigh, when she caught himself. lie could scam: believe his 
 eyes. There, in the piaz/a, stood the fair Griffin, clasped close 
 in the arms of the overseer, Fordham, and that audacious per 
 sonage was actually engaged in tasting of her lips, as a sort of 
 dessert after dinner. The situation was as apparent as the noonday 
 sun. The facts were beyond all question or denial. The parties 
 were fairly caught, and so conscious was the wicked widow of 
 the sinfulness of suffering herself to be caught, that, not able to 
 fce the " .""" " v e broke away from the arms of Fordham, and 
 
THE GKAPES ARE SOUR ! 517 
 
 rushed headlong into the house. Porgy was swallowed up in 
 astonishment. He was about to wheel his horse around, and ride 
 off , at greater speed than that which brought him, when Fordham 
 sallied out, and asked him to alight, and with the coolest manner in 
 the world said 
 
 "Well, cappin, you ve caught us at it; but no harm done, I 
 hope. The widow and me hev struck hands on a bargain, and I 
 reckon we ll be mighty soon man and wife ; and I hope, cappin, 
 to see you at the wedding." 
 
 "Thed 1 you do!" was the only response of the captain, as, 
 looking fiercely indignant at such cold-blooded audacity, he 
 wheeled his horse, clapped spurs to his sides, and sent him home 
 ward at full gallop. 
 
 "Mighty strange!" quoth Fordham. "The cappin doesn t 
 seem to like it ! " 
 
 Simple-minded Fordham, to suppose that a man should like to 
 see his neighbor feeding on the very fruit he had thought to 
 gather for himself. 
 
 With the defeat of these attempts, Captain Porgy gave up all 
 notion of marriage. 
 
 "Woman!" quoth he, "woman!" and there his soliloquy 
 ended ; but the one word, repeated, was full of significance. 
 When at length his comrades were again assembled about the 
 board, and the cheerful fires were blazing on the hearth, and the 
 philosophic cloud wreaths floated about the apartment, and the 
 tankards were filled with potent floods of sunny liquor, Porgy 
 said suddenly to his companions 
 
 "My good fellows, there have been moments when I thought 
 of deserting you, that is, I sometimes meditated bringing in 
 upon you a fearful influence, which might have lessened your 
 happiness, and destroyed the harmony which prevails among us. 
 I have had various notions of taking a wife " 
 
 "A wife!" cried Dennison. "Oh! hush, captain, and don t 
 frighten a body so ! A wif ! What madness prompted such a 
 thought ? " 
 
518 WOOI KA1T. 
 
 "A wife!" cried Oakenburir, " the Lord deliver n 
 "Ef she d ha come, she d ha delivered you mighty soon," 
 quoth Millhouse ; "I don t see what s to skear a body in a wife, 
 
 pervided she s in proper sarcumstatices, and is kept strict by a 
 man usen to army riirilations." 
 
 "Maussa better widout em," quoth Torn; "I nebber kin tan 
 for be happy in house whar woman s mssa." 
 
 "Well, you will all In- pleased to hear, then, that I Lave 
 terniined to live a bachelor for your sak<-v I saeritiee my happi- 
 Q6H for your own. I renounce the temptations of the tlc-h. It 
 has been a pani: to me, irentlemen. to d<> s.. for beauty is pn 
 in my slight. There are women \\hm I could love. The! 
 charms which persuade my vr -in. There an- N 
 
 which make my mouth water. But. for your MkftS, I n nounce 
 them all. I shall live for you only. V-M could not well do 
 without me; I will not suflVr myself to do without you. ^ ou 
 shall be mine always I shall be \\\r<. To woman. e\c ; 
 friend or companion, 1 say depart! I renoui; \\-id, ye 
 
 sweet tempters to mortal we.-ikne^ ye b.-LMiile me uith your 
 charms no more! For yoi. mittdes, iln-re shall 
 
 be no mistress, while I live, at (Ileii-Kberh-y." 
 
 And may you live for ever:" was the crv from all but Mill- 
 house. He only muttered in the ears of IVnni-on 
 
 I sees it all ! lie ill-owns the women bekaise he kaint help 
 himself. The grapes is sour ! " 
 
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