1ORAI 
 
 3CRIPTIVE 
 
STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 HUMOROUS AND DESCRIPTIVE 
 
 OF 
 
 Southern Life a Century Ago 
 
 BY 
 
 AUGUSTUS B. LONGSTREET, D.D., LL.D. 
 
 Compiled and 
 Edited by 
 
 FITZ R. LONGSTREET 
 
 1912 
 
 THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY 
 
 Philadelphia 
 
COPYRIGHT 1912 
 BY FlTZ R. LONGSTREET 
 

 r 
 
 Preface 
 
 IT is proper and perhaps of interest to say a few 
 words explanatory, in regard to the following 
 articles and their writer. Augustus B. Long- 
 street, known throughout the South as Judge 
 Longstreet, flourished as an author from 1835 to 
 1870. 
 
 He was prominent not only as a literary man, 
 but as an educator, having been president of 
 several universities and also prominent in church 
 circles. 
 
 He wrote mostly in the spirit of pastime, or 
 from fondness, and his writings are thus scattered 
 in time and place. The following sketches are pre 
 sented by the compiler after a tedious research in 
 the old literary publications of prominence during 
 the antebellum period, excepting one or two from 
 his book, " Georgia Scenes, " that are brought in 
 to complete the series. I have taken the liberty 
 of changing slightly the names of one or two 
 articles, so as to give them more appropriate 
 titles and better appearance. I hope this will be 
 justified by their effect and by the appreciation 
 of those who like to read true delineation of 
 human nature, in which art we think the author 
 was a master. 
 
 FITZ R. LONGSTREET. 
 
 Gainesville^ Ga. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 i 
 
 THE VILLAGE EDITOR; OR, THE NATVILLE GEM 9 
 
 II 
 THE OLD SOLDIERS A Narrative ............ 41 
 
 III 
 DARBY, THE POLITICIAN 50 
 
 IV 
 FAMILY GOVERNMENT e 88 
 
 V 
 A FAMILY PICTURE 99 
 
 VI 
 THE OLD WOMEN A Tribute . 115 
 
 VII 
 THE MATCHMAKER JULIA AND CLARISSA ........ 116 
 
 VIII 
 A CHARMING WIPE 181 
 
 IX 
 THE BALL 227 
 
 X 
 WILLIAM MITTEN AT SCHOOL 245 
 
 XI 
 WILLIAM MITTEN AT COLLEGE 314 
 
I. 
 
 "THE VILLAGE EDITOR" OR "THE 
 NATVILLE GEM/ 
 
 In times gone by there was a handsome, thrifty 
 little village in Georgia, which, we beg, leave to 
 designate by the name of Natviite-. Tn no village 
 did more harmony and good feeling prevail than 
 in this. The surrounding lands, which were rich, 
 were owned by the villagers, who usually visited 
 them for an hour or two in the forenoon, and spent 
 the rest of the day in social chat on the shady side 
 of main street in summer, and on the sunny side in 
 winter. At these meetings, of course, the affairs 
 of the nation were daily discussed; but as the 
 assembly, with but few exceptions, were all one 
 way of thinking, the discussions were of the most 
 temperate character. Even the very few who 
 differed with the majority had the utmost indul 
 gence extended to their opinions. Lawyer Jeter 
 and Lawyer Moore headed the majority, and 
 exercised a mild but unlimited authority over 
 them, in all matters of politics indeed I may say, 
 in all matters of public interest. What is remark 
 able, the leaders themselves agreed in everything, 
 
 (9) 
 
STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 except as to the merits of their clients cases. In 
 the discussion of these, to be sure, they were some 
 times, as one of them used to say, "pretty tart" 
 upon each other; but the tartness was always 
 forgotten as soon as the case that produced it was 
 ended. Where such good feeling prevailed among 
 the husbands, of course a better feeling, if possible, 
 prevailed among their wives. They visited one 
 another with the freedom of relations, interchanged 
 cooking receipts, garden-seeds, flowers and shrub 
 bery, in short, everything that could delight the 
 eye or the palate. The consequence was that all 
 the good things, and sweet things, and pretty 
 things, that were found in one family, were found 
 in all ; so that the stranger who visited the village, 
 invariably noticed the remarkable coincidence of 
 similarity. If he remained long enough, he was 
 sure to have a fair opportunity of making com 
 parisons; for the unbounded hospitality of the 
 villagers, male and female, introduced him to one 
 or more meals, with every family. 
 
 Thus stood matters in the happy village, when 
 a stranger made his appearance at Mr. Gibbs* 
 tavern. He dropped in at night, just at supper 
 time was seated at the table supped and upon 
 rising was, by his own request, immediately con 
 ducted to his room. At supper he was observed 
 
THE VILLAGE EDITOR n 
 
 to raise his eyes from his plate but twice or thrice, 
 and then as it seemed, only to take a hasty 
 general survey of the boarders. The next morn 
 ing he did not leave his room until summoned 
 to the breakfast table. This meal he disposed 
 of as he had the one before. Leaving the table, 
 he spent three hours in rambling over the town 
 and neighboring hills. On his return, he seated 
 himself in the piazza, just long enough to be 
 asked and to give his name, and again took 
 his room. His name as given to the landlord, 
 was Asaph Doolittle. All the village had now 
 seen him men, women and children and all 
 were curious to know who he was. The landlord 
 told the gentlemen, the gentlemen told their wives, 
 and their wives told their children that it was 
 Asaph Doolittle; and this was all that any of 
 them could tell. Dinner came, and Asaph did as 
 before. After dinner he asked for his horse to 
 take a ride. Mr. Gibbs complied with his request ; 
 and was relieved of a little anxiety when he saw 
 him set out minus his portmanteau. 
 
 Asaph took the big road that led north was 
 gone about two hours returned and took the other 
 end of the same road was gone about as long 
 again returned and took his room. Another sup 
 per, night and breakfast passed off as had the first. 
 
STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 After breakfast Asaph took another ride east and 
 west, that consumed the forenoon. Three whole 
 days did he spend in doing nothing but eating, 
 sleeping, reading, writing and rambling through 
 and around the village. In the meantime, the 
 citizens, one and all, became exceedingly distressed 
 to know who this Mr. Doolittle was, and where he 
 was from, and what he was after. Every meeting 
 was opened with the question : " Have you found 
 out anything about Doolittle?" and the question 
 was invariably answered in the negative. If 
 they were in the midst of an animated discussion, 
 the appearance of Mr. Doolittle checked it as 
 instantly as a funeral procession would have 
 done. As they had waited a reasonable time 
 for Mr. Doolittle to make himself known, and 
 he had not done so as they had all stood ready 
 to show him the usual hospitalities of the vil 
 lage, and he had not allowed them an oppor 
 tunity of doing so, they felt themselves at perfect 
 liberty to think what they pleased of Mr. Doolittle, 
 and all of them except the young ladies (for Mr. 
 Doolittle was "fair to look upon,") thought very 
 hard things of him. After weighing the proba 
 bilities of his being this or that bad character, 
 they settled down pretty unanimously in the 
 opinion, that he had come to cheat them out of 
 
THE VILLAGE EDITOR 13 
 
 their lands, in some way or other, they didn t 
 know exactly how. This opinion harmonized 
 with all his movements. He had been seen on 
 every road within five miles of the village. He 
 had walked through the fields of Squire Lewis, 
 Doctor Foster, Lawyer Moore, Mr. Ligon and 
 Captain Wells, the very best lands in the vicinity; 
 and he had inquired of their negroes how much 
 land their masters owned, and how many negroes 
 they worked. Their suspicions were confirmed, 
 when on the morning of the fourth day, he asked 
 the landlord to introduce him to the Clerk of the 
 Court ; and asked the Clerk of the Court for a file 
 of the newspapers containing the advertisements 
 Of the Sheriff s sales, and other public notices 
 proceeding from the Courts. These he had looked 
 over carefully for a year back, and made notes 
 upon them. It was now deliberated in full council 
 what was to be done with this Mr. Doolittle; and 
 Billy Figs proposed to ride him on a rail. But 
 the Barristers protested against such an outrage. 
 They represented the world as looking with intense 
 interest upon the grand experiment of the Amer 
 ican Government enslaved millions as standing 
 ready to burst the shackles of Despotism, and rise 
 to the dignity of free men, as soon as we should 
 convince them that man is capable of self-govern- 
 
i 4 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 ment. "What," said one of them, "will be 
 thought of us when it shall be proclaimed through 
 all Europe, that in this land of liberty, and in this 
 village renowned for its intelligence, hospitality, 
 and good order, a freeborn son of Columbia, travel 
 ing, as he supposed, under the safeguard of the 
 American Eagle, was ridden on a rail!" This 
 appeal, which covered Billy s face with blushes 
 (for he now saw plainly that he had nearly ruined 
 the world), quieted the malcontents for the time 
 being. Still as they were satisfied that he was 
 after no good, they entertained cruel suspicions 
 of Asaph, and looked at him accordingly. Even 
 those good ladies, who a day or two before had been 
 so anxious to know who he was, now when asked the 
 old question by their children, bawled out furi 
 ously that they didn t know Mr. Doolittle and 
 didn t want to know him and hoped they never 
 would know him and would have been right glad 
 if there had never been a Doolittle hatched, born or 
 created. There, now I hope you re satisfied. On 
 the evening of the fourth day, Asaph did not retire 
 to his room directly after supper as usual, but 
 conversed freely with the landlord and with other 
 persons to whom he was introduced by his host. 
 Nothing was found objectionable in him. The 
 next day his acquaintance was considerably ex- 
 
THE VILLAGE EDITOR 15 
 
 tended, embracing among others the two lawyers. 
 That night he invited these gentlemen to his 
 room. After a friendly conversation of an hour 
 or two, Mr. Doolittle informed them that he had 
 visited the place with the design of establishing a 
 newspaper there, if there was any likelihood of its 
 being tolerably well patronized; and he said he 
 would be thankful to them for their advice in the 
 matter. . . They highly approved of his pro 
 ject, and promised him their assistance by purse, 
 pen, and influence. It was the very thing they 
 wanted. There was talent enough in the village 
 and the neighborhood around to support a paper 
 handsomely. As there was no paper within forty 
 miles of the place, all the advertising custom of 
 the adjoining counties would certainly flow to this. 
 Withal it would exert a valuable influence upon 
 the politics of two neighboring counties, which 
 sent a heavy representation to the legislature, and 
 which were strongly tinctured with federalism. 
 
 "What is the politics of this county?" said 
 Asaph. 
 
 "Oh, Jeffersonian to the core. There is hardly 
 a division among us. We all espouse the prin 
 ciples of that great apostle of liberty. " 
 
 Now, Asaph had been thirteen years in a printing 
 office in Connecticut he had been apprentice, 
 
1 6 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 journeyman and foreman, and in all that time he 
 had never set one type, nor seen one set in praise 
 of Mr. Jefferson, or of his politics. His mother had 
 taught him from his childhood to abhor Satan, 
 and his father had taught him that if there was any 
 difference between Satan and Mr. Jefferson, Satan 
 had the best of it. Though Asaph was a man of 
 wonderful equanimity, he could not conceal his 
 emotions of surprise, at hearing it announced in 
 sober earnest, that Mr. Jefferson was the great 
 apostle of liberty. He stared for a moment as if 
 he had seen a ghost ; but soon recovering his self- 
 possession a little, he brought his countenance to 
 the likeness of one who holds one end of a string in 
 his mouth, while he twists the other, and sat mute, 
 while his friends continued. 
 
 "No other politics will do in this latitude. A 
 federal paper would get no support here. There 
 are but three federalists in the village, and not ten 
 times that number in the county. Indeed it is 
 the worst time that could be selected for the estab 
 lishment of such a paper, when the excitement 
 about the alien and sedition laws has hardly sub 
 sided. But a Republican paper will do admirably. 
 We will insure you at least two hundred sub 
 scribers, and all the advertising custom of this 
 and several neighboring counties right away." 
 
THE VILLAGE EDITOR 17 
 
 Asaph said he would think the matter over ; and 
 his friends left him, promising to call and see him 
 again the next morning. He retired to bed, and 
 surrendered himself to the following train of 
 reflections: " What will Maum and Dad think of 
 me if they hear that I have come out a Jeffer- 
 sonian Republican! What will Mr. Croswell, my 
 old Bos think ! I shall have to change papers with 
 him, and he ll lash me like all natMr." 
 
 " But I must get to business of some kind, and 
 that speedily, and I guess I shall find no better 
 place than this. Well, after all, may it not be that 
 Jefferson is a better man than I have taken him to 
 be? I ve heard many things said about him, 
 and I have seen many sharp things published 
 against him ; but all great men have to bear this 
 I ll think over the matter. " And he thought over 
 the matter until he dropped to sleep, and could 
 call to mind but one good thing that Mr. Jefferson 
 had ever done; and that was, the writing of the 
 Declaration of Independence. His dreams were 
 a confused medley of maum and dad, and bos and 
 types, and Mr. Jefferson s red breeches. 
 
 The next morning his friends called upon him 
 betimes; and he proposed to them to devote the 
 paper exclusively to Arts, Sciences and Polite 
 Literature ; but they told him this would never do 
 
 2 
 
1 8 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 alone. The people were all politicians, the pure 
 principles of Republicanism were just getting 
 clearly in the ascendant, and it was very impor 
 tant that these principles should be pressed home 
 upon the hearts and understandings of the people 
 at large. 
 
 Asaph then wished to know whether they would 
 take an interest in the paper, and take charge of 
 the Editorial department. 
 
 They replied that they would be very willing 
 to do so, but for their professional engagements. 
 When at home they would be ever ready to fill 
 the Editorial chair ; and even on the circuit, when 
 not too much pressed with business, they would 
 endeavor to furnish something for the paper; 
 but as to taking an interest in it, though they had 
 no doubt it would be an exceedingly profitable 
 enterprise, they thought they could better promote 
 it by being entirely disinterested. After several 
 conferences, Asaph resolved to feel the pulse of 
 the people with a Prospectus. Accordingly, he 
 begged the Squires to write him one suitable to 
 the time and place; and the meeting adjourned 
 to eight o clock that evening. 
 
 The villagers, who had begun to be greatly 
 alarmed at these frequent meetings of the stranger 
 with the head jurists of the place, were perfectly 
 
THE VILLAGE EDITOR 19 
 
 transported when they understood that Mr. 
 Doolittle was going to do nothing more nor less 
 than establish a newspaper in their midst. Some 
 of them had never seen an Editor, and many of 
 them had never seen a printing press ; but all saw 
 some advantage that would result from the pro 
 ject. It would give character to the village- 
 encourage youthful genius, make Franklins of 
 poor children, give a healthful tone to public 
 morals, enlighten the ignorant, inspire laudable 
 ambition, save postage, concentrate advertise 
 ments, right at their doors, etc., etc. 
 
 The trio split upon the name of the forthcoming 
 gazette. Jeter was for the " JefTersonian Republi 
 can;" Moore was for "The Scourge of Feder 
 alism;" and Asaph was for "The Natville Gem." 
 After a long and animated debate, they discovered 
 that they all agreed. That the Jeffersonian 
 Republican must be The Scourage of Feder 
 alism, and that "The Natville Gem" could only 
 reflect the light of Republicanism. It was there 
 fore agreed that Mr. Doolittle should name his 
 paper as he pleased. 
 
 The Prospectus was soon drawn up. It ad 
 verted to the rising importance of Natville its 
 central position between Buckhead and Dogs- 
 boro the vast amount of talent which it con- 
 
STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 tained, and which was compelled to lie dormant for 
 the want of communication with the world, etc. 
 The politics of the Gem would be of the Jeffer- 
 sonian school; but as truth was its object, its 
 columns would be open to all parties, whose com 
 munications should bear the impress of modera 
 tion and candor. The grand object of the Gem 
 would be to elevate the standard of public morals ; 
 as all history had proved that a pure morality was 
 the only unfailing safeguard of Republican insti 
 tutions. No pains would be spared to make the 
 Gem useful to farmers, as they were at last the 
 bone and sinew of the country; at the same time 
 commerce and manufactures would receive due 
 attention, etc., etc. 
 
 A manuscript Prospectus was set up at the 
 tavern door, and Mr. Doolittle concluded to remain 
 a few days to mark its success, before he proceeded 
 to have a number of copies printed for circulation. 
 In less than three days, the name of every man 
 in the village was appended to it, with not a few 
 from the country. In the mean time, Mr. Doo 
 little grew rapidly in public estimation. Even 
 those ladies who wished there never had been a 
 Doolittle "hatched, born, or created," invited 
 him to their houses ; and went a little beyond their 
 usual civilities for his entertainment. Some 
 
THE VILLAGE EDITOR 21 
 
 thought they saw in him a handsome likeness of 
 Dr. Franklin taking the Doctor s picture as a 
 fair representation of his person. 
 
 Such was Mr. Doolittle s encouragement, that 
 he immediately rented an old backstore, gave 
 the needful directions for converting it into a 
 printing office, and left the village in order to 
 bring on his press. He had not been gone long, 
 before his Prospectus appeared in all the Southern 
 papers; those of the Republican stamp "con 
 gratulating themselves and the country in having 
 added to their corps, such an able champion of 
 sound principles. They had understood Mr. Doo- 
 little to be a stanch and well-tried Republican of 
 the old school; possessing talents of the highest 
 order, and a character, which, even Federal malig 
 nity had not dared to asperse." The Federal 
 papers on the other hand, under various headings, 
 such as "Another hireling set to work The Devil s 
 kingdom extending Tom Jefferson s last imp, an 
 nounced that in some obscure village in Georgia, 
 never before heard of, one Doolittle, from Nowhere, 
 and known by nobody, was about to issue another 
 disorganizing sheet, to be called The Natville 
 Gem all of which betokens that it is to Do a very 
 little business." 
 
 These notices, some of which reached Natville, 
 
22 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 aided Mr. Doolittle s subscription list consider 
 ably. The citizens of the village considering him 
 a persecuted man, themselves insulted, and anx 
 ious that he should be placed in an attitude of 
 defence, redoubled their exertions in his behalf. 
 
 In a few months the press was up, and the first 
 number out. Though it was not much larger 
 than a pane of glass, "it was very neatly gotten 
 up." It contained a handsome editorial address 
 by Jeter, a spirited vindication of the principles 
 of the Gem, and of the rank and responsibility of 
 the village, by Moore some short but well-written 
 extracts from the " Aurora" and "Richmond En 
 quirer." An apology found on the smallness of 
 the exchange list as yet, and the hurry of getting 
 out the first number, for the dearth of matter. 
 A few good selections in prose and poetry, and 
 several advertisements; one of a cock-fight in an 
 adjoining country. 
 
 Upon the whole, the patrons of the Gem were 
 very well satisfied with it. 
 
 I must here remark that Mr. Doolittle was but 
 an indifferent writer at best, and for reasons al 
 ready given, utterly incompetent to pen a passable 
 article in defence of Republicanism. 
 
 At this time, the Augusta Herald, a Federal 
 paper, was edited by one of the shrewdest, most 
 
THE VILLAGE EDITOR 23 
 
 intelligent and satiric writers of his time. Hon 
 ored be his memory, though I never agreed with 
 him in politics! 
 
 I give his reception of the first number of the 
 Gem, not as a fair specimen of his style or his 
 wit, but for its connection with what follows: 
 
 "We received from the Post Office yesterday, a 
 neat little roll, which we doubted not was a joint 
 remission from two or three of our subscribers. 
 Having no immediate call for money (a rare 
 thing with us by the way) we put it into our fob, 
 were we suffered it to remain until called for. 
 Going to market the next morning, a chicken cart 
 drove up, and as chickens were in great demand, 
 a general scramble for them ensued. We secured 
 six, having in either hand three, and being un 
 willing to entrust any of them to empty hands, 
 where there was such a yearning for these feath 
 ered bipeds, we requested the countryman to 
 insert his fingers in our fob, and draw out a little 
 bundle of change that he would find there. He 
 did as directed, and judge what was our surprise 
 upon seeing the bundle opened, to find it a news 
 paper, entitled The Natville Gem. We offered it 
 to the farmer for the six chickens; but he re 
 fused to take it. We told him we did not deal in 
 jewelry, and therefore could not say exactly what 
 
24 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 this gem was worth, but we had no doubt it was 
 very valuable, and had cost Mr. Jefferson a good 
 deal of money; but that we would give it to him 
 for one chicken. Whereupon he grew crusty, 
 cursed the Gem and Mr. Jefferson, and told us if 
 we didn t offer him something better than that 
 little thumb-paper for his chickens, he d ease us 
 of them mighty quick. We therefore requested 
 him to put the Gem in our hat, and his hand in 
 our vest-pocket, where he would find a little 
 jewelry that he would perhaps like better. 
 
 "The Gem comes out under the name of a Mr. 
 Doolittle, but we understand that Mr. Doolittle 
 has very little to do with it. A brace of lawyers, 
 we learn, have kindly relieved him of all the 
 trouble of his paper, except that of paying its 
 expenses, setting the type, and correcting the 
 proofs. Now 
 
 We say so Mr. Doolittle, 
 
 That though his paper s too little. 
 
 Assuredly he knew little 
 
 when he entrusted the management of it to law 
 yers. This selection reminds us of an anecdote 
 which we once heard, of a gentleman in this coun 
 try employing a raw son of the Emerald Isle to 
 clear new ground for him. Paddy requested a 
 
THE VILLAGE EDITOR 25 
 
 sight of his tools. The employer amused at the 
 request, and curious to see what instrument he 
 would select to clear new ground, carried him to 
 a chest containing an assortment of tools of vari 
 ous kinds. Paddy looked them all over very 
 carefully, and finally selected a jack-plane and 
 drawing knife as the very things for his purpose." 
 The article went on to a much greater length 
 than we would be permitted to follow. Suffice 
 it to say it contained such pointed allusions to 
 Moore and Jeter, as plainly showed that their 
 names as well as their prof ession were fully known 
 to the Editor of the Herald. It furthermore set 
 forth the village of Natville in a most ridiculous 
 point of light, advising the citizens, especially the 
 ladies, to go to the cock-fight, as well calculated 
 "to elevate the standard of morals in Natville." 
 The lawyers declared there was a spy in the camp, 
 and that he was one of the Federalists ; and as 
 they did not know which it was, they charged it 
 upon all three by turns. In the next paper they 
 gave pretty broad hints to this effect. The Fed 
 eralists wrote a joint reply, which was excluded 
 from the Gem, on the ground of length, person 
 alities, intemperance of feeling, etc. They flew 
 to the Herald, and a long newspaper war opened 
 between them and the editors, which grew hotter 
 
2 6 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 and hotter with every number. This had not 
 ceased when Mr. Jeter having lost an important 
 case in the inferior Court as he believed by the 
 ignorance of one of the Justices, was very much 
 incensed against him. The name of the offending 
 Magistrate was Whatcut. He resided upon Goose 
 creek, was a very corpulent man, and drank per 
 haps a little too much for his calling though not 
 more than was common in those days with men 
 who were considered very temperate Jeter in 
 the moment of excitement, penned the following 
 article, which appeared in the next day s Gem : 
 
 A Little Receipt for Making a Big Judge. 
 Go down to Goose creek catch a gander put a 
 quill in his mouth blow him up until his middle 
 parts hide his thighs pour a half pint of old 
 Jamaica into him set him on the bench, and call 
 him Potgut, and he will make an excellent judge. 
 
 Justice. 
 
 A few hours cooling time led Jeter to repent 
 of sending such an indelicate article to the press, 
 and he went late at night to recall it ; but he was 
 too late ; the form was made up, and the Receipt 
 must come out, or no Gem appear the next day. 
 The day following the appearance of the piece, 
 Whatcut came into town, and marched directly 
 
THE VILLAGE EDITOR 27 
 
 to the printing office, where he found Doolittle 
 calmly engaged in distributing types. 
 
 "Are you the author of a piece signed Justice 
 in yesterday s paper?" said he to Doolittle. 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 "Well, who is?" 
 
 "It s against the rules of the office." 
 
 "Don t tell me about your rules, sir. Tell me 
 who wrote the piece, or I ll floor you in an instant 
 with this stick," flourishing an awful hickory 
 stick over his head. 
 
 "Stop, sir!" said Doolittle, dodging " Jeter 
 wrote it." 
 
 Away went the Judge, and soon returned with 
 
 A Receipt for Making a Jack-legged Lawyer. 
 Catch a pole-cat, stuff him with brass, and call 
 him Cheater, and he will make an excellent lawyer. 
 
 Truth. 
 
 Whatcut had hardly left the office before Jeter 
 entered it, and Doolittle told him all that had 
 happened. "Oh, Doolittle," said Jeter, "it was 
 abominable to expose your correspondents in 
 that way. You ought to have informed me of 
 Whatcut s demand before you gave up my name ; 
 and I would have made fair weather with him; 
 for really I ve no enmity against the old fellow; 
 
28 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 but now it is impossible, I fear, to make peate; 
 and I can t tell where this matter will end. The 
 great value of a newspaper is in its enabling one 
 to reprove vices without being known, and as the 
 law was open to you if he assaulted you, you cer 
 tainly ought to have taken a little beating rather 
 than have involved me in this manner, and to 
 have ruined your gazette forever as an instrument 
 of moral reform." 
 
 Doolittle offered the very best apology in the 
 world for what he had done ; namely, that with 
 a three-pound stick flourished over his head, 
 he had no time to calculate upon a "little beat 
 ing," and that in the surprise of the moment, 
 he had really forgotten to calculate the chances 
 of profit and loss from giving up Mr. Jeter s 
 name. 
 
 Truth and Justice now had a regular set-to, in 
 the columns of the Gem; which very soon in 
 volved half the county and all the village, for 
 both had extensive connections, and both were 
 very popular. 
 
 None profited by the contest except the three 
 Federalists. They went over in a body to the side 
 of Truth, where, for the first time in months, 
 they met with a gracious reception. 
 
 Things were in this position, when a gifted son 
 
THE VILLAGE EDITOR 29 
 
 of the muses, by the name of Quirk, a student in 
 Moore s law office, favored the Gem with the sub 
 joined racy poetic effusion. It is necessary to a 
 clear understanding of it, that I preface it with 
 some explanations. 
 
 Mr. Dodson was one of the most respectable, 
 wealthy and influential citizens in the village. 
 Mr. Quirk, father of the poet, was in all respects 
 his equal. Their families had ever been upon 
 terms of the strictest intimacy. Charles, the 
 poet, son of the last, had paid his addresses to 
 Laura, daughter of the first, but without success. 
 While he was chafed with disappointment, and 
 still more chafed at seeing Doctor Pillen laying 
 waste all his hopes, Miss Laura happened to re 
 mark that Charles Quirk always put her in mind 
 of a pair of tongs; he was all legs and no body. 
 At another time she said it was an old maxim that 
 "All lawyers are liars." These remarks came to 
 the ears of Mr. Quirk, whereupon he penned the 
 following : 
 
 Does Guara Gobson walk the street 
 
 Just to show her pretty feet? 
 
 Or does she ramble up and down, 
 
 Through every street in Natville town, 
 
 To see if she can find in it, 
 
 Some one on whom to show her wit, 
 
 In Pitt-box doctors she can find, 
 
 Everything to suit her mind ; 
 
io STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 Though bushy-headed, lean and lank, 
 
 With whapper-jaw and bandy shank; 
 
 But all the race of honest squires, 
 
 She publishes as arrant liars. 
 
 But this witty village fair, 
 
 Was not content to stop just there. 
 
 E en lawyers "legs and bodies," she 
 
 Makes subject of her raillery. 
 
 And in the midst of lady throngs, 
 
 Compares them to "a pair of tongs." 
 
 I d say to this sarcastic Miss 
 
 She d better mind her business, 
 
 Or she may find that tongs can pinch 
 
 Enough to make a lady winch. 
 
 After Quirk had written the piece, he had some 
 misgivings about publishing it; and he deter 
 mined to take the advice in the matter of two 
 other law students, from Mr. Jeter s office. These 
 were Mr. Coat and Mr. Adams. The former was 
 delighted with the piece, and insisted upon its 
 being published. He said he "considered it 
 nothing more nor less than a fit and proper and 
 just and equitable defence of a high-minded and 
 honorable profession, from a most defamatory 
 defamation, that no one, male or female, had a 
 right to cast such reflections upon a high-minded 
 and honorable profession." 
 
 Adams protested against its publication. He 
 said it would be cruel and unmanly to arraign a 
 lady before the public in this way ; that it would 
 
THE VILLAGE EDITOR 31 
 
 be attended with serious consequences; that it 
 was too direct, personal and undisguised, to leave 
 a moment s doubt as to the author, or the object 
 of his severity; that it would be as well to give 
 the young lady s name in full, at once, as to give 
 it with only a change of the initials. 
 
 "Well," rejoined Coat, "what good will it do 
 if nobody knows who s meant? And if she didn t 
 say it, what right has she to take it to herself? 
 And if she did, oughtn t she to understand it? 
 And as for the name, there is a very great differ 
 ence between Laura Dodson and Guara Gobson. 
 Suppose you were to sue on a note signed Laura 
 Dobson, and introduce a note signed Guara 
 Gobson, would it support the declaration? It 
 isn t even Idem Sonans. Give it to me; if you 
 won t publish it, I will, if I can get it in." 
 
 The debate continued too long to be followed. 
 Suffice it to say, that Quirk finally concluded to 
 give it to Coat, to deal with it as he pleased. 
 
 Coat took it to Asaph, who refused to publish 
 it; but upon being informed by the bearer that 
 such things were always published by the editors 
 in this country, and seeing that in the main it was 
 a vindication of lawyers, he at last consented to 
 give it a place in his columns. 
 
 As soon as the paper that contained it appeared, 
 
32 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 the whole village was in an uproar. Fortunately 
 for Asaph, it fathered itself so plainly, that there 
 was no necessity for demanding the author. Had 
 there been any room for doubt on this head, the 
 tide of public indignation which now set too 
 strongly against Quirk to be diverted for a time, 
 at least, would have been turned upon him. Coat, 
 for a little while undertook to vindicate Quirk, 
 but he was silenced by scoffs and hisses. Quirk, 
 after stating to several that he wrote it but did 
 not publish it, retired from the storm into the 
 country. It was soon all over the town, that 
 Coat gave it publicity, and he turned public 
 attention from Asaph, until he retired. There 
 was now no participant in the sin left, but Asaph ; 
 but the people s wrath against him had not quite 
 swelled to an outbreak before his next paper ap 
 peared. In this, he made a humble but poorly- 
 written apology, saying he had been misled by 
 Mr. Coat; and closing with the best suasive 
 that he knew of to the irritated feelings of the 
 Natvillians. 
 
 The first of the apology cooled down pub 
 lic indignation, just low enough to save Asaph s 
 hide, and that was all. Old Mr. Quirk came into 
 town in deep distress. He censured his son 
 publicly, as he had done privately, and did every- 
 
THE VILLAGE EDITOR 33 
 
 thing that he could do, to make amends for his 
 son s indiscretion; but as it is universally the 
 case, where everybody undertakes a cause, some 
 of them will manage it badly, so it was in this 
 case. Several persons most wantonly and cruelly 
 insulted the old gentleman. Though he was a 
 man of high spirit, he did not attempt to avenge 
 the insults, but appealed in a subdued spirit to 
 the people, to say whether his son s imprudences 
 should be thus visited upon his gray hairs. This 
 appeal touched the sympathies of not a few, who 
 espoused his cause warmly. "They did not pre 
 tend to justify the attack upon Laura Dobson, 
 but that was not as bad as insulting a gray- 
 haired man, who was not to blame. And, after 
 all, Miss Dobson had said hard things about Quirk, 
 which might as well have been let alone; and 
 then there would have been no difficulty. But 
 old Mr. Quirk had done nothing wrong ; he had 
 not even defended his own son, but was doing all 
 he could to make amends for his son s fault, when 
 he was insulted by men young enough to have 
 been his children." 
 
 These arguments soon divided public sentiment 
 so equally, that young Quirk considered it safe 
 to return to town. He came, and advancing to a 
 crowd of gentlemen, some one made an allusion 
 
 3 
 
34 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 to his piece, which he turned to a good account. 
 He said he was sorry he had written it, but as he 
 did not publish it, he thought blame enough had 
 been attached to him. But whatever his fault 
 might be, it would not justify people in abusing 
 his gray-haired father. He was ready to bear 
 anything, but he would spend his last drop of 
 blood in defence of his father. 
 
 This harangue, repeated often through the vil 
 lage, and aided by the friends who had already 
 espoused his father s cause, gained over to the 
 Quirk side nearly half the village. Such was the 
 state of things when the general elections came 
 on. No doubt, nine-tenths of the county would 
 have been willing to have postponed the elec 
 tions for six months at least ; but this was impos 
 sible. As everybody apprehended a dreadful 
 fracas, everybody was careful to avoid it ; conse 
 quently, though the canvass was hotter than it 
 had ever been before, it was more peaceable than it 
 had ever been before, to about four o clock in the 
 afternoon. About this time it became certain 
 that Jeter, who was a candidate, and who had 
 never been beaten before, was now to be beaten. 
 The Quirks and their friends were on his side; 
 the Dobsons and Whatcuts were against him; 
 and thus, so equally balanced were the parties, 
 
THE VILLAGE EDITOR 35 
 
 that the twenty or thirty Federalists in the county 
 decided the contest. Jeter and his friends were 
 now ripe for the disappointed candidate s last 
 resort, a general row. Nor were they at all 
 appeased by certain triumphant shouts which 
 some of the victors sent forth. Things were just 
 in this state, when Coat was seen issuing from 
 West Grocery, under the emphatic addresses of 
 a bodiless foot. There was a general rush to the 
 door, to ascertain whom the said foot belonged to, 
 when it was discovered to be the property of 
 Charles Dob son. As Coat retired, he said he 
 would demand gentlemanly satisfaction of Dob- 
 son, and unfortunately Dobson replied, "Send 
 your challenge by Quirk, and I ll kick him too." 
 Quirk heard this, and without a word clinched 
 Dobson. As Bob Whatcut advanced to the com 
 batants, he jerked little Billy Pines, a Jeter man, 
 rudely out of his way; whereupon Billy Jeter 
 cried out with a loud voice, " Boys, the ball s open, 
 set to your partners!" and led off an Irish jig 
 with Bob Whatcut. The fight now became gen 
 eral, and no pen can describe it. 
 
 As there is no labor that men tire of sooner 
 than fighting, the row was of short duration. It 
 closed with a singular encounter. Ned White 
 was retiring from a second victory, when he ob- 
 
36 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 served one of the Federalists calmly seated apart 
 from the crowd, enjoying the sports of Republican 
 ism; and stepping up to him, thus accosted him, 
 
 "And what are you doing here tin whipped; 
 you Federal?" 
 
 " I m a peaceable man," said the other, " and " 
 
 " You are a hog ! Well, as I go in for my threes 
 to-day, 111 cool off on you anyhow." 
 
 So saying, he fell aboard the peaceable man, 
 and trounced him smartly. This conduct of 
 Ned could be justified only on the ground, that 
 as fighting was the order of the day, neutrality 
 was treason; or that, as Republicans must needs 
 be whipped, a portion of Federalists should be. 
 
 Mr. Doolittle had looked through a crack of 
 the loft of his printing office, on the scene which I 
 have described, until his senses became bewil 
 dered. He thought it advisable to seek relief 
 among the groves around the village, "where 
 heavenly, pensive contemplation dwelt." Ac 
 cordingly, retiring by a back door, and passing 
 over three fences, he entered a back street, by 
 which he made his way to the woods. Taking 
 his seat at the foot of an aged oak, at about 
 twenty rods distance from a public road, he enter 
 tained himself in musing upon politics, manners 
 and customs, and good old Connecticut. 
 
THE VILLAGE EDITOR 37 
 
 He saw a number of groups of persons with 
 the setting sun, he saw, as he supposed, the last 
 go by, he rose, entered the road, and marched 
 slowly towards the village. He had not pro 
 ceeded far, before he discovered three men on 
 horse-back meeting him. He dropped his hat as if 
 in deep study, and moved on. Like those who had 
 gone before them, they were talking boisterously 
 about the events of the day. As they passed 
 Asaph, one of them observed, " Isn t that the 
 printer, that has kicked up all the fuss? " 
 
 "Yes," said Nat. Whatcut, "it s the very man, 
 and just hold my horse a moment, till I do a 
 little printing on his hide." 
 
 So saying he dismounted, and advanced upon 
 Asaph at a brisk walk; but Asaph walked as 
 briskly as he did. Whatcut struck a trot, and 
 so did Asaph. Whatcut rose to the top of his 
 speed, and Asaph did the same. And now "they 
 went with a rush," amidst the whoops of the 
 spectators. Whatcut soon discovered that he 
 was overmatched, and gave up the chase, crying 
 out as he stopped, "Never mind, old fellow, I ll 
 see you to-morrow." 
 
 "No, you won t," muttered Asaph. "If you 
 do you may print me in black letter." 
 
 Asaph having lingered in the outskirts of the 
 
38 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 town until dark, crept sohly by a back way to 
 the tavern. The boarders were at supper, and 
 not a few of them disfigured. He listened for a 
 moment, and caught a single sentence, which 
 determined him to forego his supper for that 
 evening. 
 
 "Before that press printer came here, all was 
 peace and friendship; but ever since he began to 
 send out his mud paper, there s been nothing but 
 quarrelling and fighting; and if nobody else will 
 run him off, I will." 
 
 Asaph resumed his lonely walk until late at 
 night, when observing a light in Mr. Moore s 
 office, he crept softly to the window, and finding 
 the squire alone, he tapped at the door. The 
 squire went to the door, when Asaph saluted him, 
 and begged him to blow out the candle. This 
 done, he entered and took a seat. 
 
 "Major," says he, "I m thinking I d better be 
 missing from here, as soon as old Roan can take 
 me off." 
 
 "Why, yes, Asaph," returned Moore, "there s 
 great excitement against you. Almost every 
 man who has been whipped to-day, swears he ll 
 whip you; and I think you had better leave the 
 village for a week or two, at least, until the ex 
 citement is over, and then return." 
 
THE VILLAGE EDITOR 39 
 
 "So I m thinking; but how to arrange matters 
 with Mr. Gibbs, and how to get money to bear 
 my expenses 
 
 "Oh, never mind that," says Moore. "Take 
 Quirk s bed there to-night; I ll make things easy 
 with Gibbs, and have your horse here two hours 
 before daylight in the morning, and furnish you 
 the means of getting on." 
 
 "Well, Major, your goodness makes me feel 
 worse than I have all day; and I have had such 
 feelings to-day, as I never had before. I shall 
 never come back after I start, Major and I was 
 thinking to give you a full power of attorney, to 
 deal with my debts and effects as you think right. 
 I know you ll deal justly by me. I should like 
 to save my printing materials, as they are all I m 
 worth ; but if it be necessary to sell them to make 
 you whole, sell them, and 
 
 "No, Asaph, I shall not sell them, if I never 
 get paid. Say where they shall be sent to, and 
 I will have them carefully packed up and for 
 warded to you by the first wagon." 
 
 Augusta was named. Asaph remained silent 
 a minute or two, obviously deeply affected by the 
 Major s kindness. At length he proceeded : " You 
 people of Georgia are a very strange people. You 
 are the most liberal, generous-hearted people I 
 
4 o STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 ever saw, when you are in a good humor; but 
 when you get mad, you fight like all natur, and 
 it seems to make no odds who. I can t make 
 these things dovetail at all." 
 
 The curtains were dropped, the candle lighted, 
 the power of attorney executed, and two hours 
 before day Asaph s horse was at the door, with 
 portmanteau on; and before sunrise he had 
 passed the county line. In a week after, his 
 printing materials and trunk were on the way to 
 Augusta. 
 
 The village was completely revolutionized. The 
 street meetings were broken up, the social par 
 ties discontinued, and many long years passed 
 away before the citizens of Natville returned to 
 their former friendship. They probably never 
 would have done so, had not a revival occurred in 
 the place, which embraced almost every inhab 
 itant. Thus religion banished enmity from all 
 hearts, united them in love, and gave them a 
 nobler theme than politics for conversation and 
 constituted them a brotherhood, that neither poli 
 tics nor newspapers nor time could sever. 
 
II. 
 
 THE OLD SOLDIERS, 
 
 A NARRATIVE. 
 
 On a calm summer s afternoon, at the door of a 
 humble but comfortable log dwelling, sat the ven 
 erable John Chavers. He had done much service 
 in the war that won our liberty; but liberty was 
 nearly all that he gained by it. A private in the 
 ranks, he retired from the field with no other 
 worldly estate than a little continental money 
 and a small farm but poorly improved. His first 
 wife died soon after the war; and he married a 
 second, fifteen years younger than himself. By 
 both he had children, but some had died, and all 
 the rest had married and left him, at the time of 
 which I am speaking. While his strength re 
 mained, he exerted an honest industry, and thus 
 managed to keep his family above want ; and now 
 that it had deserted him, a small pension from the 
 government and the labor of two servants sup 
 plied the demands of his waning life. Some of his 
 sons had served in the War of 1812, but the old 
 man gave them little credit for it; "because," as 
 
 (41) 
 
42 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 he used to say, "that was mere child s play com 
 pared with the old war. No Tories in your day, 
 boys, no prison ships. March out with your 
 bright muskets and bayonets all furnished to your 
 hand wagons following loaded with good fat 
 rations canteens full, good clothes on, march 
 where you please without danger, sleep soundly 
 all night in your tents without fear of being waked 
 by bullet or tomahawk pshaw; a mere frolic! 
 You ought to have lived in the parched-corn and 
 tory times, when bare-footed and in rags, we 
 bogued thro thickets and cane-brakes, and mud 
 and swamps, wet or dry, hot or cold, with an old 
 Indian-trader or rusty shot gun in our hands, that 
 made three snaps and one flash to a fire. Then 
 go to sleep on a bed of grass or dirt to the music of 
 wolves and owls ; sometimes in sight of your own 
 house, which you dare not enter for fear that you d 
 never get out again till the traitors flung you out. 
 Polly, there, can tell you no, she was most too 
 young to recollect much about it; but Nancy 
 could have told you something of those days. 
 Look at the spoon-handle in the little pine box 
 on the top of the buffet; that ll tell you a story 
 about hard times. Polly won t believe that story 
 about the spoon-handle; but, there it is, and it 
 speaks for itself. If it wasn t so, what did I make 
 
THE OLD SOLDIERS 43 
 
 the box to put it in for? And what do I take it 
 down and look at it every Fourth of July for? 
 Bill Darden was there, and John Taylor was there, 
 and Arch Martin was there; but, poor fellows, 
 they ve all gone and left me, long ago, I reckon." 
 But the old man had for years ceased to talk 
 thus, and for the best of reasons, namely, that he 
 found nobody to talk to. The young seldom 
 visited him, and the old of his neighborhood 
 alas! compared with him, there were none. His 
 iron constitution had struggled manfully with 
 Time; but the conqueror of all had overpowered 
 him, and doomed him to perpetual confinement 
 to his dwelling and its inclosure. There is one 
 from whom time cannot banish us, from whose 
 presence prisons cannot seclude us. This one 
 lingered with the old soldier in his solitude, and 
 made calm and peaceful the twilight of his life. 
 He had just been tottering round his little garden, 
 when he took his seat at the door where I intro 
 duced him to the reader. The sun was just 
 setting, when on the highway that led by his 
 house, he observed an aged foot-passenger ap 
 proaching. Slow and trembling were the foot 
 steps of the stranger. When within about twenty 
 rods of the house, he stopped, leaned for a moment 
 upon his walking stick, then lifting his hat, drew 
 
44 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 from it a handkerchief, or what served its purpose, 
 and wiped the perspiration from his brow. 
 
 "Poor old man!" said Chavers, as he looked on 
 the bending form and snow-crowned head of 
 the traveler. "Where can he be going? Beg 
 ging, I suppose!" 
 
 The stranger advanced, and seating himself on 
 the step of the door, drew a deep sigh and said, 
 "Can an old revolutionary soldier, who has nothing 
 to pay, get supper and lodging 
 
 "Yes, old man," interrupted Chavers. "That s 
 a countersign that passes any man to my table, 
 bed and heart. Get up, old man, get up that s 
 no place for an old Seventy -sixer give me 
 your hand, and I ll help you in as well as I can, 
 though I m but poor help. Polly, hand the old 
 man a chair, for he seems almost done over." 
 
 "And indeed, so I am," said the guest; "these 
 sandy roads don t suit such old limbs as mine." 
 
 "And what makes you take the road at your age, 
 old man? Old folks, like we, ought to stay in 
 doors, lest death find us where friends can t." 
 
 "That s true, friend, but we can t always do 
 what we ought to do, or wish to do. I have been 
 living with my son for many years, but he has 
 lately died, leaving a large family and nothing to 
 feed them on; for though he worked hard, and I 
 
THE OLD SOLDIERS 45 
 
 helped him all I could, yet he died very poor. 
 His wife s kinsfolk sent for her away West some 
 where, and I concluded to try to get to my grand 
 daughter s, who is married and settled about 
 thirty miles below here; but, it seems to me, I 
 shall hardly ever get there, at the rate I get 
 along. My strength s gone my strength s gone, 
 friend ; I can t travel now as I once could 
 
 "I know very well how to believe that. But 
 how do you get along without money in these 
 close-fisted times." 
 
 "Oh, mighty well, mighty well. I generally 
 tell the people where I stop, beforehand, that I ve 
 no money, but that I am an old soldier, and this, 
 with my white head, always gets kind treatment. 
 I haven t found but one man that turned me off; 
 and I didn t mind that much, as I hadn t far to go 
 before I found a better; but he called me an 
 impostor, and that was the hardest saying I ve 
 had to bear for these thirty years 
 
 "The rascal! Why didn t you give him your 
 stick?" 
 
 "Oh, God bless your soul, I had better use for 
 my stick. It doesn t become old men like us to 
 use sticks except to walk with. Besides, I am 
 trying to get to a country where none but the 
 peaceable can go." 
 
4 6 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 "You re right, old man you re right and I m 
 wrong ;" said Chavers, as he drew his sleeve across 
 his eyes. "And you say that you are a revo 
 lutionary soldier; whom did you serve under!" 
 
 "Well, now, I can t say that I was much in the 
 regular army, though I did some little there, too. 
 My service was mostly against the Tories, and it 
 doesn t seem much thought of in these days, yet it 
 ought to be, for, I tell you, I have seen some as 
 tough times as any in the regular army ever saw ; 
 and made some as narrow escapes as any made 
 during the war." 
 
 "Well, suppose you tell us one, for it s a long 
 time since I ve heard any one talk about the old 
 war, that was in it." 
 
 "Well, I ll tell you one of the narrowest I ever 
 made. There were some forty or fifty of us once 
 in pursuit of a gang of Tories, and a little before 
 sunset we came within a few miles of where we 
 heard that they had encamped. We stopped at a 
 branch, and our captain told us to fix up our guns 
 and refresh ourselves as well as we could (for we 
 had precious little to refresh with, besides water), 
 and that about the time of sound sleep, we would 
 march down upon them and give them rations. 
 While we were here there came a man to us and 
 told Captain Ryan" 
 
THE OLD SOLDIERS 47 
 
 "Told who?" 
 
 "Told Captain Ryan, Captain John Ryan we 
 were under him that the Tories were to have a 
 great dancing frolic at Smith s tavern that night, 
 and that if we d come upon them before they 
 broke up, we might take or kill the whole of them. 
 Well, soon after dark we pushed forward, and as 
 we neared the tavern, sure enough, we heard them 
 fiddling and dancing in high glee. Boys, said 
 Captain Ryan, we ve got em safe enough. He 
 divided us into two parties and told us to march in 
 a body to within about a hundred yards of the 
 house, and then separate, and one party to take 
 the back door and the other the front door, at 
 the same time. On we pushed, very softly and 
 briskly, fiddle playing and feet thumping, until 
 we got within five steps of the doors, when all of a 
 sudden out went the lights, and pop, pop, we were 
 fired upon on all sides. Bless your soul, friend, 
 such slaughter as they made of us you never saw. 
 They wounded Captain Ryan badly in the shoul 
 der, and killed or took prisoners nearly every one 
 of us" 
 
 "And how did you get out of the scrape?" 
 
 "I and three or four more were taken prisoners 
 and put on board a prison-ship ; and there we saw 
 tough times, I tell you." 
 
4 8 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 "Did anything did anything uncommon hap 
 pen while you were on board that ship?" 
 
 "Why, yes, friend, one of the strangest things 
 that I reckon ever did happen, but I m a most 
 afraid to tell it, for fear you will not believe me; 
 but it s just as true as that you sit in that chair; 
 and since you ve brought it up I ll tell it to you " 
 
 Tolly, give me a drink of water, if you please 
 no, sit still!" 
 
 "One day while we prisoners were all seated 
 round a tray of mush (for that was about all we 
 got to eat), a thunder cloud passed over us, and 
 just as the man opposite to me was raising his 
 spoon to his mouth, there came a flash of light 
 ning and cut the handle right off at the bowl, and 
 didn t hurt any of us." 
 
 "The Lord help my soul!" exclaimed Polly. 
 
 "I know it s hard to believe, ma am, but it s 
 every word true, as sure as you live." 
 
 "I believe " 
 
 "Hush, Polly!" interrupted Chavers. "Stranger, 
 do you remember the name of the man that held 
 that spoon?" 
 
 "Why I m not so sure I can call it now but I 
 think it was Shivers or Chivers, or some such 
 
 name 
 
 "Was it Chavers?" 
 
THE OLD SOLDIERS 49 
 
 "That s the very name!" said the stranger, 
 slapping his thigh with a force disproportioned to 
 his strength. 
 
 Why why Taylor ! exclaimed Chavers 
 rising "Is that you?" 
 
 "Chavers!" 
 
 "Taylor!" 
 
 The old men embraced, but their emotions were 
 too powerful for their strength, and they sank 
 together to the floor. When they rose, Polly was 
 standing by them with the pine box in her 
 hand, and her apron to her eyes. 
 
III. 
 
 "DARBY, THE POLITICIAN." 
 
 I well remember the first man who, without any 
 qualifications for the place, was elected to the 
 Legislature of Georgia. He was a blacksmith by 
 trade, and Darby Anvil was his name. I would 
 not be understood as saying that none had pre 
 ceded him but men of profound wisdom or even 
 notable talents (at the time of which I am speak 
 ing such men were not to be found in every county 
 of the State), but that none had been deputed to 
 that body who were not vastly superior to Anvil 
 in every moral and intellectual quality. 
 
 Darby came hither just at the close of the Rev 
 olutionary War; and, if his own report of himself 
 is to be believed, " he fit" in that memorable strug 
 gle. True, he never distinctly stated on which 
 side "he fit;" but as he spoke freely of the inci 
 dents of the revolution, and at a time when Tories 
 were very scarce and very mute, it was taken for 
 granted that he fought on the right side. 
 
 Darby established himself upon a lot in the then 
 
 village of , which cost him nothing ; for in his 
 
 day town lots, and even large tracts of land, were 
 
 (so) 
 
DARBY, THE POLITICIAN 51 
 
 granted to any one who would occupy them for a 
 given time. Two log huts soon rose upon Darby s 
 lot, into one of which he stowed his wife and chil 
 dren, and in the other his blacksmith s tools. He 
 now plied his trade assiduously ; and as all trades 
 flourished at that time, he grew rich apace. A 
 year had hardly rolled away before a snug frame 
 house rose in front of his log dwelling, and his 
 shop gave place to one of more taste and conve 
 nience from the hands of a carpenter. The brand 
 of horse-shoes upon the shop-door no longer served 
 Darby for a sign; but high over the entrance of 
 the smithery, from a piece of iron-work of crooks 
 and convolutions unutterable, hung a flaming sign 
 board, decorated on either side with appropriate 
 designs. On one side was Darby in person, shoe 
 ing Gen. Washington s horse. I say it was Wash- 
 ington s horse because Darby said so, and Billy 
 Spikes, who painted it, said so. Certainly, it was 
 large enough for Washington s horse; for, taking 
 Darby, whose height I knew, for a gauge, the horse 
 could not have been less than five and twenty feet 
 high. On the other side was a plow, with handles 
 nine feet long (by the same measure), studded 
 with hoes and axes, staples and horse-shoes. 
 
 Everything around Darby bore the aspect of 
 thrift and comfort in short, his fortune increased 
 
5 2 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 even faster than his children; and this is no 
 small compliment to his industry and economy, for 
 Mrs. Anvil had not for many years suffered eight 
 een months to pass without reminding him, with 
 a blush through a smirk, that she would "soon 
 want a little sugar and coffee and sweetened dram 
 for the little stranger. 1 Darby had just received 
 the tenth notice of this kind when he resolved to 
 turn politician. Whether the notices had any 
 influence upon him in forming this rash resolution, 
 I am not prepared to say ; but certain it is that he 
 had received them, for several years preceding, 
 with a rapidly declining interest, insomuch that, 
 when the last came, it gave to his countenance an 
 expression better suited to dyspepsia than to such 
 joyous tidings; and he was proceeding to make a 
 most uncourteous response, when the kindling fire 
 of his lady s eye brought him to an ant i -climax of 
 passive gentility. 
 
 " Why, Nancy, " said he, " Lord a massy on my 
 soul! I don t grudge you the rum and coffee and 
 sugar, but r aly it does seem to me that we re 
 havin a powerful chance o childern somehow or 
 nother." 
 
 I am digressing a little, but I cannot resume my 
 subject without doing Mrs. Anvil the justice to say 
 that she defended her dignity with becoming spirit, 
 
DARBY, THE POLITICIAN 5 J 
 
 and by a short but pungent syllogism taught 
 Darby that he had more cause for self-condemna 
 tion than for grudgings or astonishment. 
 
 Darby Anvil, though ignorant in the extreme, 
 had some shrewdness and much low cunning. He 
 knew well the prejudices and weaknesses of the 
 common people of the country, and had no little 
 tact in turning them to his own advantage. 
 
 Two attorneys of eminence who had repeatedly 
 served the State in her deliberative assemblies 
 during and after the war were candidates for the 
 popular branch of the Legislature when Darby 
 determined to make a third and supernumerary 
 candidate. He announced his aims in the only 
 way in which he could have announced them with 
 out exposing himself to overwhelming ridicule ; for 
 the people of those days pretty generally harbored 
 the superstitious notion that talents were indispen 
 sable to wholesome legislation. 
 
 There was a great barbecue in the county. It 
 was the wager of a hunting watch, and conse 
 quently everybody was invited and everybody 
 attended. During the festival, when Darby and 
 ten or twelve of his own class were collected round 
 the bottle, "Boys," said he, "how bout the lec 
 tion this year?" 
 
 "O," says one, "there s no opposition." 
 
54 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 "No opposition!" cried Darby, "by zounds, 
 that ll never do. We ll have no fun. I ll be 
 ding d if I don t offer myself if I can t git a smarter 
 man to offer, rather than have no fun at all. 
 What do you say, Bill Rucker? Won t you go in 
 for the old blacksmith ag inst the lawyers?" 
 smiling and winking to the by-standers. 
 
 "O yes, " said Bill carelessly, " I ll go in for you 
 to a red heat." 
 
 "Well, thar s one vote for the old blacksmith, 
 anyhow." 
 
 " Johnny, you ll stick to Uncle Darby ag n the 
 lawyers, I know; won t you, Johnny?" 
 
 "Yes," said Johnny Fields, "I ll stick to you 
 like grim death to a dead nigger. " 
 
 "Jimmy Johns 11 go O no! I ve no chance of 
 Jimmy s vote ; bein as how he s a mighty takin to 
 lawyers since his brother Bob -s case was try n. How 
 bout that, Jimmy?" with a dry, equivocal laugh. 
 
 "Blast their infernal souls!" said Jim, "I d 
 vote for the devil fore I d vote for either of em. 
 They made out my evidence was nothin t all but 
 swearin lies for brother Bob from one end to 
 t other." 
 
 "Well, Jimmy," pursued Darby, "you mustn t 
 mind Uncle Darby s laughin , my son, I can t help 
 laughin every time I think how mad you was when 
 
DARBY, THE POLITICIAN 55 
 
 you come to my shop that day ; but you know I 
 told you you d git over it and vote for the squires 
 at last, didn t I?" 
 
 " Yes, and you told a lie, too ; didn t you, Uncle 
 Darby?" 
 
 Here Darby roared immoderately and then, 
 becoming suddenly very grave, he proceeded: 
 " But, boys, puttin all jokin away, it s wrong, 
 mighty wrong, for anybody to be puttin upon 
 anybody s character after that sort, I don t care 
 who they is. And if I was in the Legislater the 
 fust thing I d do would be to stop it. " 
 
 "Well, Uncle Darby, why don t you offer? " 
 said Johns. "I ll go for you, and there s plenty 
 more ll go for you if you ll come out. " 
 
 "Yes, that there is," said Job Snatch (another 
 sufferer in court). " I ll go for you. " 
 
 "And so will I," said Seth Weed. 
 
 " Why, boys, " interrupted Darby, " if you don t 
 hush, you ll make me come out sure enough. And 
 what would I do in the sembly?" 
 
 "I ll tell you what you d do," said Sam Flat 
 crustily, " you d set up in one corner of the room 
 like poor folks at a frolic and never open your 
 mouth. And I 11 tell you another thing my opin 
 ion is, you want to offer, too; and you re only 
 fishin for an excuse to do it now." 
 
5 6 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 Darby burst into a loud laugh; but there was 
 enough chagrin mingled with it to show plainly 
 that he felt the truth of Sam s remark. It was 
 near a minute before he could reply: "O no, 
 Sammy, I ve no notion of offerin , unless it mout 
 be just to have a little fun. And if I was to offer 
 what harm would it do? I couldn t be lected; 
 and if I wasn t I wouldn t care, for it wouldn t 
 be no disgrace for a poor blacksmith to be beat 
 by the great folks that s beat everybody. " 
 
 "Well/ said Jimmy Johns, "may I say you s 
 a candidate?" 
 
 "Jimmy, you is a free man and has a right to 
 say what you please." 
 
 "And I m a free man, and I ll say what I please, 
 too/ said Job Snatch. 
 
 "And so am I," said Seth Weed. 
 
 "Why, what s got into these boys?" chuckled 
 out Darby ; " I b lieve they re gwine to make me a 
 cand date whether I will or no. I didn t know I 
 had so much pop larity. Let me git away from 
 here or I ll be made a great man in spite of myself. 
 But I must take a drink before I go. Come, boys, 
 le s take a drink, and I ll give you a toast : 
 
 "Here s wishin that honest men who s blige to go to court 
 
 to swear 
 May not be lowed to be made game of by lawyers of the 
 
 bare." 
 
DARBY, THE POLITICIAN 5 7 
 
 This sentiment, like many electioneering ha 
 rangues of equal merit in the present day, was 
 received " with unbounded applause ;" and amidst 
 laughter and entreaties fora repetition of the toast, 
 Darby hastened away to a small party of marks 
 men who had made up a match and were trying 
 their skill apart from the throng. To these he 
 made himself obsequious, while his friends spread 
 the news of his candidacy. It soon pervaded the 
 whole assembly, and many went to him to know 
 the truth of the report. His answers to such were 
 regulated by the tone and manner with which they 
 put their questions. If they exhibited no aston 
 ishment, he told them that " he had tried to git off, 
 but his friends kept plaguin him so to offer that he 
 was bliged to give up or make em all mad ; and 
 therefore, he told em they mout do as they 
 pleased. " If the inquirer exhibited signs of won 
 der and incredulity, Darby gave him an affirmative 
 with all the tokens of irony. Amongst the rest 
 came Smith and Jones, the two candidates. They 
 happened to meet him just as he was returning to 
 the crowd from the shoot ing -match and when no 
 person was with him. 
 
 "Darby," inquired Smith, "is it possible that 
 you are a candidate for the Legislature"? 
 
 "Why not?" returned Anvil, with a blush. 
 
S 8 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 " Why, you are utterly unqualified ; you will dis 
 grace yourself/ 
 
 "I know," rejoined Anvil, "that I d make a 
 mighty poor spout of speakin ag in lawyers, but I 
 reckon as how I could vote as good as them. " 
 
 "You are mistaken, Darby," said Jones; "it 
 requires a better head to vote right than to speak 
 well. The business of law-making is a very deli 
 cate business, which should be managed with the 
 nicest care, especially in this country. It is true 
 that it has been much simplified in the several 
 States by our admirable form of government. A 
 vast variety of subjects, and those, too, which the 
 people at large are generally best acquainted with, 
 have been withdrawn from the State Legislature. 
 But still the States are sovereign, and possess all 
 power not specially delegated to the general gov 
 ernment " 
 
 "You should have said," interrupted Smith, 
 "that the State legislation has been diminished 
 rather than that it has been simplified. In truth, 
 it has been rendered more intricate by our novel 
 form of government. In other countries the law 
 giver has only to study the interests of the people 
 and legislate accordingly ; but here, in addition to 
 the ordinary duties of a legislator, he has others of 
 infinite difficulty and infinite importance to dis- 
 
DARBY, THE POLITICIAN S9 
 
 charge. He is one of the guardians of a State 
 which is both sovereign and subject sovereign by 
 Constitution, subject by concession. He must 
 consider well, therefore, the powers which she has 
 ceded, and yield implicit obedience to them; he 
 must study well the powers which she has reserved, 
 and fearlessly maintain them. An error on the 
 one hand is a step toward anarchy ; an error on the 
 other is a step toward slavery 
 
 "Why," interrupted Darby, "I don t under 
 stand head nor tail of all this sarment." 
 
 41 1 was not addressing myself to you," said 
 Smith, "though I confess that what I was saying 
 was meant for your improvement. I was in hopes 
 you would understand enough of it to discover 
 your unfitness for the Legislature. " 
 
 "I think," said Jones, "I can convince Darby 
 of that in a more intelligent way." 
 
 11 Darby, what does a man go to the Legislature 
 for?" 
 
 "Why, to make laws," said Darby. 
 
 "True; and to amend such as have been made. 
 Now, do you know what laws have been made?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Do you know how those have operated which 
 have been made?" 
 
 11 Operated? 11 
 
60 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 " I mean do you know whether they have proved 
 good or bad?" 
 
 "No, I tell you; I don t know nothin t all 
 about em." 
 
 " Well, now suppose a man should come to your 
 shop and offer to work for you a month at plow- 
 making we will suppose and when you asked him 
 if he understood making such plows as are used in 
 Georgia he should reply that he knew nothing at 
 all about plows, his whole life had been spent in 
 shoe-making ; but that if you would lay two plows 
 before him he could tell you which he thought best ; 
 and that whenever you wanted his opinion or vote 
 upon shop matters he could give it as good as any 
 one. What would you think of him?" 
 
 "Then, cordin to your chat, nobody ought to 
 go to sembly but lawyers, " said Darby. 
 
 "I do not say so; but that no one should go 
 there who has not some little knowledge of the 
 business which he has to do. If he possess this 
 knowledge, it matters not whether he be lawyer, 
 farmer, merchant, or mechanic. " 
 
 By this time quite a crowd, mostly unlettered 
 persons, had collected round the candidates, and 
 though it was impossible for Darby to hide his 
 chagrin while he and his companions were alone, 
 it became less and less visible with every accession 
 
DARBY, THE POLITICIAN 61 
 
 to the group, so that by the time Mr. Jones con 
 cluded his remarks it was entirely dissipated, and 
 Darby stood before the company decidedly the 
 most self-confident of the three. 
 
 "Well," said he, planting himself astraddle and 
 placing his arms akimbo, "now I ve heard you all 
 through, let me see how the old blacksmith can 
 argify with two lawyers at a time. I know I m 
 nothin but a poor, ign ant blacksmith that don t 
 know nothin nohow; and furthermore, I don t 
 think nobody ought to go to the sembly but 
 lawyers nether, bein as how they re the smartest 
 people in the world. But howsomedever, that s 
 n ither here nor thar. Now, Mr. Smith, you say 
 I d disgrace myself to go to the sembly, and I 
 reckon it s so, for I m like my neighbors here, hard- 
 workin people, who ha n t got no business doin 
 nothin but workin for great folks and rich folks, 
 nohow. But howsomedever, that s n ither here 
 nor thar, as the fellow said. Now, I want to ax 
 you a few questions, and you mus n t git mad with 
 me, for I only want to git a little 1 arnin . And 
 firstly of the first place, to begin at the beginnin , 
 as the fellow said, an t a poor man as free as a rich 
 man?" winking, with a smirk to the approving 
 by-standers. 
 
 "Certainly," said Smith. 
 
6 2 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 "And didn t they fight for libity as well as rich 
 ones?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Well hem i an t they as honest as rich 
 men?" 
 
 "No doubt of it." 
 
 "Well, if a poor man is as free as a rich man 
 (now you mus n t git mad with me), and they fit for 
 libity as well as them, and is as honest, how comes 
 it that some people that s the smartest in the world 
 votes for nobody havin votes but them that s got 
 land?" Here several of the by-standers who had 
 been interchanging winks and smiles in token that 
 they foresaw the dilemma into which Darby was 
 leading his antagonist, burst into a loud laugh. 
 
 "Now, an t he the devil?" whispered one. 
 
 " I tell you what it is, " said a second, " the law 
 yers an t gwine to git nothin out o him." 
 
 "Mighty smart man," said a third, gravely, 
 "powerful smart for his opportunities." 
 
 "I advocated freehold suffrage," returned 
 Smith, " in the convention that framed the Consti 
 tution, not because I thought the rich man entitled 
 to higher privileges than the poor man, but because 
 I thought him less exposed to temptation. In 
 deed, my proposition made no distinction between 
 the poor and the rich, for there is not a farmer in 
 
DARBY, THE POLITICIAN 63 
 
 the State who has not more land than would have 
 entitled him to a vote under it. But I apprehend 
 the time will come when our State will be inun 
 dated with strangers and sojourners amongst us 
 mere floating adventurers who have no common 
 interest, feeling, or sympathy with us, who will 
 prostitute the right of suffrage to private gain, and 
 set up their votes to the highest bidder. I would, 
 therefore, have confined this right to those who 
 have a fixed and permanent interest in the State, 
 who must share the honors or suffer the penalties 
 of wise or corrupt legislation." 
 
 "If Smith is to be blamed," said Jones, "for 
 his course in the convention, so am I. I differed 
 from him, to be sure, in measure, but agreed with 
 him in principle. I would have had a small prop 
 erty qualification without confining it to land, but 
 his answer to this was decisive. If the amount of 
 property required were large, it would disqualify 
 many honest voters who are permanent residents 
 of the State ; if it were small, every stranger who 
 brought with him money enough to bear his trav 
 eling expenses would be qualified to vote. But we 
 were both overruled." 
 
 "Gentlemen," said Darby, "you talk too much 
 dictionary for me ; I wasn t raised to much book 
 larnin nor dictionary larnin . But, howsomedever, 
 
6 4 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 I think, Squire Smith, you said anybody that 
 didn t own land would sell their votes to the high 
 est bidder ; and I reckon it s so, for you great folks 
 knows more than me ; but the proof of the puddin s 
 in chawin the bag, as the fellow said, therefore 
 let s see how the thing ll work. Jimmy Johns, you 
 don t own no land, and, therefore, cordin to the 
 Squire s narration, you ll sell your vote to the 
 highest bidder. What 11 you take for it?" 
 
 "Nobody better not tell me," said Jim, "that 
 I ll sell my vote, or I ll be dad seized if I don t 
 fling a handful o fingers right in his face in short 
 metcher, I don t care who he is. " 
 
 " I did not say, " resumed Smith, " that any man 
 now in the State would sell his vote, nor do I be 
 lieve that any true Georgian, by birth or adoption, 
 ever will ; but the time will come when idle, worth 
 less vagabonds will come amongst us, who will sell 
 their votes for a pint of rum if they can get no 
 
 more. * 
 
 " Well, Squire, now it seems to me but I don t 
 know, but it seems to me somehow or nother 
 that it ll be time enough to have land votin when 
 that time comes, and not to begin upon poor folks 
 now to stop mean folks when we are all dead and 
 gone. Them folks, I reckon, can take care o* 
 themselves." 
 
DARBY, THE POLITICIAN 65 
 
 "Then it will be too late," interposed Jones. 
 "Men who have a marketable article will never 
 give it away, or allow it to be taken from them. 
 Should they be willing to renounce it, there will be 
 factious demagogues enough to prevent them from 
 so doing. No, Darby, if you would establish a 
 good government, you must do it at its organi 
 zation; thenceforward there is a ceaseless war 
 between the governors and the governed. The 
 rulers are ever usurping the rights of the people, or 
 the people are ever resuming the rights of the 
 
 "Stop a little thar," interrupted Darby; "you 
 say thar s a war tween the Governor and the gov- 
 ment. Now, what s the reason I never hearn of 
 that war? I ve hearn of the old French War and 
 the Rev lution War and the Injun War, but I 
 never hearn of that war before." 
 
 "I don t say," continued Jones, impatiently, 
 "that there is a war, a fight" 
 
 " O, well, if you take that back, why we ll start 
 ag in. But, howsomedever, when I m gwine to a 
 place I always try to take the right road at first, 
 and then thar s no casion for turnin back." 
 
 "Well, Darby," said Jones, "you are certainly 
 a bigger fool than I took you to be, and that is not 
 your worst fault." 
 
 "Well, now, you see," said Darby (bristling), 
 
 5 
 
66 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 4 that kind o chat an t gwine to do for me, no 
 how; and you must take it back quick as you did 
 the war, or I ll make the fur fly to the tother 
 sorts. 1 
 
 " Yes, I ll be dad seized if I didn t, " said Jimmy 
 Johns, becoming furious; "talkin s talkin , but 
 callin a man the fool s no sort of chat." 
 
 "Uncle Darby," said John Fields, "you gwine 
 to swallow that? If you do, you needn t count on 
 John Fields s vote." 
 
 "No, I m not," continued Darby, touching his 
 coat. "Gentlemen, I didn t go to Squire Jones; 
 he came to me and brought on the fuss, and I 
 don t think I m to blame. My chamcter is as 
 good to me as his n to him; and, gentlemen, I m a 
 plain, hard-workin man, but I ll be burned if I 
 can bear everything." 
 
 "Strip yourself, Darby," said Snatch, flinging 
 off his coat as if it were full of nettles, and pouring 
 forth a volley of oaths without order or connection ; 
 "strip yourself; you sha n t be imposed on,; I ll 
 see you out." 
 
 "O well, now," said John Reynolds (the bully 
 of the county), coolly, "if thar s to be any fur 
 flyin here, I must have a little of the pullin of it. 
 And, Darby, you re not goin to knock the Squire 
 till you walk over me to do it. He s holpt my 
 
DARBY, THE POLITICIAN 67 
 
 wife and children too often when they ve been 
 sick for me to stand by and see him imposed on, 
 right or wrong; that s the racket." 
 
 "Well, Johnny," said Darby (re-adjusting his 
 coat), "I always liked the Squire myself, and 
 always voted for him don t you know I did, 
 Johnny? but then you know yourself that it s 
 mighty hard for a man to be called a fool to his 
 face, now an t it, Johnny?" 
 
 "Why, it s a thing that don t go down easy, I 
 know, but then look at tother side a little. Now 
 you made out the Squire eat his words about the 
 war, and that s mighty hard to swallow, too. Now 
 he told you he didn t mean they fit, and you know 
 anybody s liable to make mistakes anyhow; and 
 you kept makin out that he had to back out from 
 what he said, and" 
 
 "Yes, Darby," said Jimmy Johns, "that s a 
 fact, Johnny s right. You brushed the Squire a 
 little too close there, Darby, and I can t blame 
 him for gittin mad. I ll stick by you when you re 
 on the right side, but I can t go with you there. I 
 couldn t ha stood it myself. 
 
 "Yes, Darby," said Fields, "you must confess 
 yourself that you. begun it, and, therefore, you 
 oughtn t to got mad. That was wrong, Darby, 
 and I can t go with you them lengths." 
 
68 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 "How was it?" said Snatch, as if he were not 
 at the beginning of the affray. " How was it? " 
 
 "Why," said Johns, "Darby made out the 
 Squire eat his words, and then the Squire called 
 Darby a fool." 
 
 "O, chuch!" said Snatch, "was that the way of 
 it? Darby s wrong. If I d o knowed that, I 
 wouldn t a opened my mouth. " 
 
 "Well," said Darby, "I believe I was wrong 
 there, Johnny; and if my friends say so, I know 
 I was. And, therefore, I am willin to drop it. I 
 always looked upon the Squire as a mighty good, 
 kind-hearted man. " 
 
 "O yes!" exclaimed three or four at once, 
 "drop it." 
 
 "I was just waitin to see a row," said Sam 
 Flat (bully number two), "and I d a kept up all 
 sorts o rollin and tumblin over this barbecue 
 ground before I d a seen the Squire hurt. " 
 
 "O, but Sammy," said Johns, Fields, and 
 Snatch eagerly and in one voice, "it s all over 
 now. Drop it ; we all see Darby was wrong. " 
 
 " O yes, " said John White, reeling under a pint 
 of rum, "drop it; it s all got in a wrong fix 
 by not knowin nothin bout it. I heard it 
 every bit. Squire didn t say what Darby said 
 and Darby didn t say what Squire said and 
 
DARBY, THE POLITICIAN 69 
 
 none of you didn t say what all of you said and 
 that s the way you all got to quar lin an 
 fightin . We re all friends let s go n take a 
 drink which whipped ? 
 
 Before White concluded this very luminous and 
 satisfactory explanation the attorneys and their 
 friends had retired, and Darby proceeded: "Gen 
 tlemen, when I fust talked bout bein a cand date, 
 I had no notion o bein one. I jest said it in fun, 
 as all the boys here knows. But now, you see, 
 sence they go to puttin on me after this sort, I ll 
 be blamed if I don t be a cand date, even if I git 
 beat. This is a free country, in which every man 
 has a right to do as he pleases, and cordin to their 
 chat nobody ha nt got no right to be cand dates 
 but lawyers. If that s the chat, I don t know 
 what our Rev lution was for, and I fit in it too. 
 Gentlemen, you see how I ve been persecuted. " 
 
 Darby s resolution was applauded by some, and 
 his insulted dignity soothed by others. He now 
 surrendered himself unreservedly to electioneering. 
 His first object was to secure the favor of John 
 Reynolds, for the bully of a county was then a 
 very desirable auxiliary in a canvass. This was 
 easily effected by a little kindness and a little hy 
 pocrisy, and Darby wanted neither when his in 
 terest was at stake. He soon persuaded John that 
 
70 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 all he had said to Mr. Jones was a joke, or (what 
 was the same thing to John) an error in Darby; 
 and as the bully of the county is too much occu 
 pied in seeking glory to attend much to his trade 
 or his farm, and is therefore constantly in need of 
 some little assistance from his more industrious 
 neighbors, Darby had opportunities enough of con 
 ciliating John by kind offices. These he improved 
 so handsomely that John was soon won by grati 
 tude, and came out his open supporter. 
 
 Marvelous was now the " change" which " came 
 over the spirit of Darby s dream. " His shop was 
 committed to the entire management of Sambo and 
 Cuffy, and his " little strangers" to Nancy. He 
 rode night and day, attended every gathering in 
 the county, treated liberally, aped dignity here, 
 cracked obscene jokes there, sung vulgar songs in 
 one place, talked gravely in another, told long, dry 
 stories, gave short, mean toasts, jested with the 
 women and played with the children, grew liberal 
 in suretyships, paid promptly and dunned nobody, 
 and asked everybody to vote for him. 
 
 By these means Darby s popularity increased 
 wonderfully. Three months lay between the bar 
 becue and the election, and before the expiration 
 of the first the wise began to fear and the foolish to 
 boast that Darby Anvil would be elected. An- 
 
DARBY, THE POLITICIAN 71 
 
 other month placed the matter beyond dispute, 
 and left to either of the other candidates the alter 
 native of making common cause with Darby or 
 staying at home. The temptation was too strong 
 for Smith s integrity. He formed a secret alliance 
 with Darby. It was effected with great care and 
 much cunning, but it was soon exposed by his con 
 duct and its results. It was the first instance of 
 such self-abasement that I ever witnessed in 
 Georgia (would that it had been the last!), and it 
 was received with becoming indignation by the 
 virtuous and intelligent of the country. They 
 took the field, almost to a man, in behalf of Jones, 
 and but for his magnanimity they would have suc 
 ceeded at last in giving Smith the just reward of 
 his treachery. But Jones implored them by their 
 regard for the future welfare of the State to level 
 all their forces against Anvil and not against 
 Smith. "If Smith," said he, "is returned to the 
 Legislature, he will serve you with profit, if not 
 with honor; but if Darby be elected, he will be 
 worthless as a member and ruinous as an example. 
 Encouraged by his success, hundreds of stupid 
 asses like himself will make their way into the 
 General Assembly; and the consequences will be 
 that our government will become a despotism of 
 fools and a disgrace to republicanism. " By these 
 
72 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 and many other more forcible arguments, which I 
 have not time to repeat, Jones prevailed upon his 
 friends to sacrifice their private prejudices to the 
 public good, and to bend all their exertions to the 
 exclusion of Anvil. They did so, and for a time 
 wonderful were the effects of their efforts. So 
 commanding was their position that even the com 
 mon people were attracted by it, and many came 
 over to them from the ranks of the coalition. 
 Smith was cowed by the noble bearing of his old 
 friend toward him, and remorse greatly paralyzed 
 his exertions. Darby, too, grew so much alarmed 
 that he became serious, and by as much as he grew 
 serious by so much did he lose his influence. In 
 short, there is every reason to believe that after all 
 Darby would have been beaten had not a little 
 incident occurred which secured his election in 
 spite of opposition. It was a strange incident to 
 be followed by such an effect. There is an old 
 Scotch song which says : 
 
 Be a lassie e er so black 
 
 An she hae the name o siller, 
 
 Set her upo Tintock top, 
 
 The wind will blaw a man till her. 
 
 The winds are not more propitious to the siller d 
 lassie than unpropitious to a candidate. If ever 
 ghe has committed a fault, no matter when or where 
 
DARBY, THE POLITICIAN 73 
 
 the wind will blow a babbler to him. It was so 
 with Darby, though unfortunate only in a moral, 
 not in a political sense. 
 
 About three weeks before the election a traveler 
 stopped at a public house in the county where sev 
 eral persons had collected, and amongst the rest 
 was Your Uncle Nicky Bugg. This was a title 
 which he assumed himself and which was accorded 
 to him by universal consent. The company were 
 all supporters of Jones, and their conversation 
 turning upon the approaching election, they de 
 nounced Darby Anvil in unmeasured terms. The 
 stranger, probably emboldened by their senti 
 ments, after putting a few questions as to Darby s 
 personal identity, stated that Darby had left Vir 
 ginia between two days in order to avoid a prosecu 
 tion for perjury. The stranger said he was not 
 himself personally acquainted with the facts, but 
 referred to a number of persons in Virginia who 
 would confirm his statement by certificates. The 
 certificates were immediately written for, and to 
 make their effect the more decisive it was resolved 
 by the company that they would not whisper the 
 important discovery until the certificates arrived. 
 Fortunately for Darby, they did not arrive until 
 the evening before the election. 
 
 At an early hour of the succeeding day Darby 
 
74 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 made his appearance at the court-house at the 
 head of about thirty men, some in wagons, some on 
 horseback (single and double), and some on foot. 
 They all had their tickets in their hats, with the 
 names of Smith and Anvil written on them in 
 large characters. As they proceeded to the polls 
 they made the village ring with shouts of " Hurrah 
 for Smith ! " " Hurrah for Anvil ! " " Hurrah for 
 the blacksmith and the people s candidate!" 
 Darby had provided a table and a dozen bottles of 
 rum, to which he led his friends and told them to 
 drink freely and vote boldly. He was reminded 
 that if he should be elected he would have to 
 swear that he had not gained his election by treat 
 ing, canvassing, etc., to which he replied that he 
 "could swaller that oath mighty easy, for he 
 reckoned nobody wa n t so mean as to vote for 
 him just because he treated em. " 
 
 Owing to some misunderstanding of the magis 
 trates who were to preside at the election, or from 
 some other cause unknown, the polls were not 
 opened until an hour or two after the usual time. 
 The delay was extremely annoying to Darby; for 
 in the interim his friends paid such profound re 
 spect to his first injunction above mentioned that 
 several of them were fast becoming hors de suf 
 frage, if I may be allowed the expression. At 
 
DARBY, THE POLITICIAN 75 
 
 length came the magistrates, however; and no 
 sooner had they entered the court-yard, where 
 was collected an immense throng, than "Your 
 Uncle Nicky" took the topmost step at the door 
 of the court-house, and demanded the attention of 
 every gentleman present. The demand had to be 
 repeated several times before it was heeded, but it 
 finally succeeded in gathering around him every 
 voter on the campus. They were soon reduced 
 to silence, and Bugg commenced reading, in a 
 slow and audible voice, the cruel certificates. In 
 the meantime Darby, as one very truly observed, 
 11 looked powerful bad. " He stared like an owl at 
 noonday, and trembled like the shoe of a grist 
 mill. He changed feet as rapidly as if he had 
 been upon hot embers ; and as for his hands, suf 
 fered them to do as they pleased, and they pleased 
 to go through evolutions that no pen can describe. 
 I can only say of them that they seemed to be in 
 frantic search for the mind that had deserted 
 them, for they wandered all over his body and all 
 through his apparel, giving occasional hints to the 
 materialists that the mind may at last be seated 
 where none of them have ever yet placed it. To 
 add, if possible, to Darby s embarrassment, 
 "Your Uncle Nicky" was one of those men to 
 whom a fight was an accommodation. Darby 
 
76 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 could not, therefore, with safety, resort to the 
 usual expedient in such cases: a quarrel with the 
 author of his mortification. He received a conso 
 lation, however, the most grateful that could have 
 been offered to his tortured feelings, even before 
 Bugg had disposed of the certificates. It was 
 from the cry of " Persecution!" which issued from 
 a number of voices, accompanied by other con 
 solatory expressions, which increased as soon as 
 Bugg had concluded. 
 
 "It s too bad!" exclaimed one, "to attack a 
 man so right on the lection day to his face, when 
 he ha n t got no chance o defendin himself. " 
 
 " Ah, well, now, " said asecond, " if they go to tak- 
 in these in-turns on a fellow they an t gwine to git 
 no good of it, and you ll see it. The clean thing s 
 the clean thing, but this whopping a fellow up all at 
 once when he s no chance is no sort o doin s." 
 
 "Walk, ticket!" exclaimed a third (tearing up 
 a ticket on which was Jones s name}, "and come 
 over to the old blacksmith; into my hand flitter! 
 Fair play s a jewel, and that s what I go for in 
 lectioneering as well as everything else." 
 
 "Never mind, Darby," added a fourth, "you 
 an t dead yet if you are down and kickin . There s 
 enough here 11 stand by you yet. Keep a stiff 
 upper lip, and you ll come through yet." 
 
DARBY, THE POLITICIAN 77 
 
 "I swear," added a fifth, "it s too bad! It s 
 enough to hurt any man s feelin s to be so put 
 upon unbeknowens. " 
 
 These, and many other expressions of a like 
 kind, so far restored Darby s equanimity that he 
 was able to take the step in his defense as soon as 
 Bugg descended from it. When he mounted the 
 rostrum, his appearance was quite unparliamen 
 tary. He was dressed in a full suit of mud-colored 
 home-spun, the workmanship of Nancy s own 
 hands, from the carding to the weaving. His 
 pantaloons were supported only by his hips, for 
 suspenders were not then worn; and even with 
 this advantage at the one extremity, they were 
 full five inches too short at the other. They 
 reached his socks only when he stood firm on both 
 legs that is, when they were suffered to hang in a 
 right line but as Darby rarely used both limbs 
 at the same time, there was an alternate flashing 
 of naked skin from either limb, of the most agree 
 able and bewitching novelty. His vest was more 
 uncourteous to his pantaloons than were his socks, 
 for no position of Darby s body could induce it to 
 come within an inch of them. His under garment, 
 however, acted as a mediator between them, and 
 gracefully rolled out into the vacant space, seem 
 ingly to encircle the orator with a sash of coarse 
 
78 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 but clean, white cloth. Darby wore no cravat; 
 and from accident or design (the former, I sup 
 pose), his shirt-collar was thrown entirely open, 
 leaving exposed a most unsightly Adam s apple, 
 that gave to his neck the appearance of a little 
 dromedary. Upon his coat Nancy had obviously 
 " spread herself, " as we say in Georgia. She seemed 
 to have taken the pattern of it from the wings 
 of a horse-fly. From a point about seven inches 
 above the os coccygis, it debouched to the right and 
 the left, with daring encroachments upon his 
 calves. Two large plano-convex covered buttons 
 marked the salient points of the skirts, and as 
 many (on either skirt, one) their nether limits. 
 The molds of these gorgeous ornaments were cut, 
 by the measure of a half-dollar, from a dried 
 gourd ; of course, therefore, it was in the covering 
 that they took the shape which I have given to 
 them. Five buttons more (ejusdem generis) stood 
 in open order upon each lapel; and from every 
 button advanced, in marvelous length, a button 
 hole worked with "indigo blue," so that they 
 looked like two little detachments of artillery 
 drawn up in battle array against each other. 
 Coarse, sharp-pointed shoes and a low-crowned, 
 broad-brimmed white hat completed the costume 
 of the first orator that I ever had the pleasure of 
 
DARBY, THE POLITICIAN 79 
 
 hearing address the electors of a county in Georgia. 
 Indeed, he was the last also; for, though it is not 
 now an unusual thing for candidates " to respond 
 in strains of glowing eloquence" (see gazettes, 
 passim) at dinner parties and barbecues, it is a 
 very rare thing for them to address "the sover 
 eignty" when assembled to exercise the elective 
 franchise. But Darby had no alternative. The 
 greetings which he met with from the crowd when 
 he ascended the tribune were such as would have 
 confounded any one who did not understand the 
 spirit with which they were uttered. Strange as 
 it may seem to the reader, they were meant for 
 encouragement, and were so understood by 
 Darby. 
 
 "Hey, Darb!" vociferated one, "you re too 
 strong for your runners; you ve pushed your legs 
 too far through your breeches. " 
 
 "Never mind that, Darby," cried another. 
 "Tuck in your shirt-tail, and nor ate away the 
 best you can; we ll see you out." 
 
 "Why, Darby," cried the third, "what makes 
 you swaller so? Stand up to your fodder like a 
 man. You ve got plenty of friends here yet." 
 
 "Why, gentlemen," proceeded Darby, "its 
 enough to make anybody swaller and feel bad too, 
 to be put upon after this sort, all unbeknowens, 
 
8o STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 when he ha n t got no chance o defendin himself 
 no manner o* chance. Gentlemen, I fit in the 
 Revolution; and if I m now to lose my chamVter 
 because I m took all unawar s, I shall think it the 
 hardest case I ever hearn of in all my born days. 
 Gentlemen, my chamber s as much to me and any 
 hardworkin man as any man s chamrter is to him, 
 if he s a lawyer, or a doctor, or a store-keeper, or I 
 don t care what he is. For what s a man worth 
 that an t got no chamVter? He s like a pair o 
 belloweses that ha n t got no nose, or a saw that 
 ha n t got no handle: they an t no manner o 
 count; you can t use em at all. [ That s the 
 truth, Darby, interposed a voice gravely]. Gen 
 tlemen, I ve lived a long time with you: did any 
 of you ever hear of my usin perj ry? I reckon if 
 I had time I could git ce tif cates, too, but you all 
 see I an t got no time at all. Gentlemen, I don t 
 think I ever seed any one that was so persecuted 
 in all my born days; and if I m beat now, I shall 
 think I m beat by persecution. And there s my 
 wife and ten children, and they must all lose their 
 chamVters, too, just by bein taken unawar s. I 
 never knowed nobody to git nothin by persecu 
 tion; but if me and my wife and children s all to 
 lose our chamVters by it, why I s pose it must be 
 so, but I shall think it mighty hard. Gentlemen, 
 
DARBY, THE POLITICIAN 81 
 
 you can do as you please with me ; and whatever 
 you do, I can t help it." 
 
 The cry of "Hurrah for Anvil!" from many 
 voices as Darby descended from the steps plainly 
 testified that he had the sympathies and support of 
 the majority. In vain did Jones and his friends 
 reason with them upon the difference between 
 exposing vice and persecuting innocence. It was 
 in vain that they argued against the injustice of 
 visiting Bugg s fault (if fault it was) upon the head 
 of his friend Jones. The time and the severity of 
 the attack were sufficient to change Darby into 
 an object of persecution in their eyes. To make 
 matters worse, if possible, for Jones, " Your Uncle 
 Nicky " undertook to reason with the malcontents. 
 This was a very unfortunate step, for though he 
 was fully competent to reason, and reason well, 
 with reasonable beings, he was the last man on 
 earth who, in this way, should have undertaken to 
 reclaim those who were won to Darby s support by 
 what we have seen. He was easily excited and 
 utterly intolerant of folly. Irritable as he was, how 
 ever, he rarely gave signs of anger either in voice 
 or countenance. So far from it, his composure 
 was always greatest when just at the fighting point. 
 
 The first that "Your Uncle Nicky" undertook 
 to correct was Jimmy Johns, who had pretended to 
 
 6 
 
82 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 have a great friendship for him for reasons to be 
 found in Jimmy s deportment toward John Rey 
 nolds. 
 
 " Jimmy, " said Bugg, " you surely are not going 
 to vote for that fool, Darby Anvil. " 
 
 " Yes, I is, " said Jimmy ; " and the more and the 
 better of it is, I mean to give him a plumper, too." 
 
 "What! to such a despicable character?" 
 
 "Yes; despical or no despical character, I can t 
 go ag in a persecuted man with a wife and ten 
 childern Miss Anvil is 
 
 " But it s no persecution to tell the truth on a 
 man, especially when the truth goes to show that 
 he is unfit for an office to which he is aspiring. 
 Your way of reasoning will make rascality a pass 
 port to office." 
 
 "O, I don t blame you, Uncle Nicky, I know 
 what you did was for the best, but now you ll con 
 fess yourself now won t you, Uncle Nicky? 
 that if he was spirin and passport, you oughtn t 
 to come down on him as you did, right at the 
 lection. That was rubbin him too hard, now 
 wa n t it, Uncle Nicky? Twas enough to make 
 anybody feel sorry for him; and Miss Anvil " 
 
 "What difference does it make when or where 
 you expose a villain? And what has Miss Anvil 
 to do with it ? Is she a candidate ? 
 
DARBY, THE POLITICIAN 8 3 
 
 " No, but she s a mighty good oman ; and you 
 know yourself, Uncle Nicky, she an t to blame. 
 And wouldn t it be wrong to hurt her cham rter? 
 Now I leave it to yourself, Uncle Nicky. Jist 
 take it to yourself s pose you d been guilty o 
 parj ry, and Miss Bugg 
 
 " Stop a little, Jimmy, " said Bugg very calmly, 
 " until Your Uncle Nicky tries another argument 
 better suited to your capacity, and which I think 
 will brighten your ideas. " So saying, he " fetched 
 Jimmy a sentimental jolt" (as one afterward 
 described it) in the butt of the ear that laid him out 
 in short order. 
 
 Jimmy "holl d" in time to arrest Uncle Nicky s 
 experimental philosophy at the first blow and the 
 second kick. He would have fought longer with 
 another man, but with Uncle Nicky he knew that 
 the longer he fought the worse he would be flogged ; 
 so he acted wisely for once, at least. 
 
 In this way did "Your Uncle Nicky" proceed 
 to dispense light amongst the plebs until he raised 
 a battle-royal in the court-yard. At one time I 
 observed not less than eight couples who were 
 engaged in interchanging Uncle Nicky s ethics. 
 
 The day rolled away, and at ten o clock at night 
 the state of the polls was announced. Darby and 
 Smith were elected. They were both hoisted and 
 
8 4 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 borne about on the shoulders of their friends with 
 huzzas of triumph. They then invited all who 
 lingered about the court-yard at that late hour to a 
 supper at one of the public houses of the village. 
 Here they ate, drank, sung vulgar songs, and told 
 more vulgar stories until about one o clock, when 
 they, or some of them, sallied forth and with drum 
 and fife and yells drove sleep from the village 
 until the dawn. 
 
 An inveterate hostility between Smith and 
 Jones followed this election, the traces of which 
 may be seen in their descendants to this day. 
 Darby was elected again and again ; and though he 
 did nothing in the Legislature but vote as Smith 
 voted, and drink grog in the recess of the sessions, 
 he always returned to his constituents with won 
 derful stories of what "we did and what we tried 
 to do." 
 
 In the meantime, things about home began to 
 run rapidly to decay. Sambo and Cuffy worked 
 up immense quantities of iron, for they both 
 worked a great deal harder, as they said them 
 selves, when "massa" was away than when he 
 was there, "jist dat white folks might see dat 
 nigger didn t want no watchin , and dat massa 
 might know how to trust em." But then they 
 had little or nothing to show for it. A number of 
 
DARBY, THE POLITICIAN 8 5 
 
 good customers deserted the shop; some from 
 political hostility to the owner, and others because 
 Sambo and Cuffy were always too busy to attend 
 to them. Mrs. Anvil grew dissatisfied with poli 
 tics as soon as Darby returned the first time from 
 the Legislature with no money in his pockets, for 
 she had taken up the idea that all who stepped 
 into the Assembly stepped into a fortune. She 
 therefore advised Darby to "quit it as not bein 
 the thing it was cracked up to be, " and to " come 
 home and mind his own business." But Darby 
 had become too much enamored of the public 
 service to take her counsel. He told her it would 
 never do in the world for him to take his name 
 down his party would never forgive him. This 
 logic was unsatisfactory to Nancy at first, and it 
 became still more so as troubles thickened about 
 the house. She therefore became crusty, petulant 
 and boisterous by turns, greatly to the disturbance 
 of Darby s domestic peace and tranquillity. He 
 had anticipated this emergency, and took to drink 
 privately beforehand ; but he now began to come 
 home drunk out of spite, and Nancy gave him spite 
 for spite. Still, however, wife-like, she struggled 
 hard to keep things together and to save her family 
 from ruin; and her increased industry and econ 
 omy would probably have balanced Darby s 
 
86 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 waste from drink and kept a support in hand until 
 he burned out, but alas! tickets began to pour in 
 upon them by the peck from the courts of con 
 science and other more unconscionable courts, 
 inviting Darby to appear here and appear there to 
 answer for countless debts of his constituents. 
 Then came the officers of justice and reduced them 
 to beggary. A little before matters reached this 
 crisis Darby was beaten for the Legislature, and it 
 distressed him beyond measure. The friends for 
 whom he had done the most were the first to 
 desert him, alleging as a reason his want of quali 
 fication, and their thorough conviction, after three 
 years reflection, that the Virginia certificates were 
 true. 
 
 Thus ended Darby s nomothetic career, but here 
 ended not the consequences of it. Encouraged by 
 his success, worthless candidates sprung up in 
 every county. If their presumption was rebuked, 
 they silenced the reprover and repressed their own 
 shame with "I know that I am better qualified 
 than Darby Anvil. " Under this plea and by such 
 artifices as Anvil had used, they made their way to 
 the councils of the State, where they became the 
 worthy progenitors of a series of acts extending 
 through many years, which for extravagance and 
 folly have no parallel in the codes of enlightened 
 
DARBY, THE POLITICIAN 87 
 
 nations. The penalties of these acts are now upon 
 our heads, and upon our children s children will 
 they descend with unmitigated rigor. I forbear 
 to follow the consequences further in charity to 
 my native land I forbear. And yet I am not so 
 sure but that such charity is treason to the State 
 and allegiance to her most deadly foes. Pre 
 sumptuous ignorance should be reprimanded with 
 a fearless tongue, its sins should be proclaimed 
 abroad in warning to the people, and all good men 
 should unite their efforts to redeem a State 
 entirely from such influence. 
 
IV. 
 FAMILY GOVERNMENT. 
 
 I describe a Georgia family. It is a fair speci 
 men of Georgia families generally, at the heads of 
 which are parents of good sense, good morals, 
 and well-improved minds. To be sure, there are 
 in Georgia as many notions about parental gov 
 ernment as there are in any other country, and 
 the practice is as various as the opinions. Some 
 parents exercise no government at all; others 
 confine themselves exclusively to the government 
 of the tongue, and others rule by the rod alone; 
 but by far the larger class blend these several 
 modes of government and prefer the one or the 
 other according to times and circumstances. To 
 this class belonged Mr. and Mrs. Butler, the heads 
 of the family which I am about to describe. 
 Gilbert was the Christian name of the husband, 
 and Eliza, of the wife. I was intimately ac 
 quainted with them both, before their union; and 
 was ever afterwards admitted to their household, 
 with the freedom of one of its members indeed, 
 I was a connection of one of them. 
 
 They had been married about eight months, 
 
 (88) 
 
FAMILY GOVERNMENT 8 9 
 
 when a dull November evening found me at 
 their fireside. In the course of the evening the 
 conversation turned upon raising children. " By 
 the way, Eliza," said Gilbert, "I have been 
 thinking for some time past of interchanging 
 views with you upon this subject; and there 
 never can be a better time than now, while Abra 
 ham is with us, whose opinions we both respect, 
 and who will act as umpire between us." 
 "Well," said Eliza, "let me hear yours." 
 "If we should ever be blessed with children 
 
 (Eliza blushed a little), let it be a fundamental 
 
 law between us that neither of us ever interfere 
 with the discipline of the other, either by look, 
 word, or action, in the presence of the children." 
 "To that rule I most heartily subscribe." 
 "When a child is corrected by one of us, let 
 not the other extend to it the least condolence or 
 sympathy." 
 
 " In that also you have my hearty concurrence." 
 "Let us never correct a child in a passion." 
 "The propriety of that rule I fully admit; but 
 I fear that I shall not always be able to conform 
 to its requisitions. I will, however, endeavor to 
 do so." 
 
 " Well, if you will do your best, I shall be satis 
 fied." 
 
9 o STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 "Let us, as far as it is practicable, introduce 
 among our children the universally-admitted 
 principles of good government among men." 
 
 " That is a very indefinite rule, husband. I know 
 very little of the principles of good government 
 among men; and much less of those principles 
 which are universally admitted." 
 
 "Well, I will be a little more specific. I be 
 lieve it is universally admitted that laws should 
 precede punishment, and that none should be 
 punished who are incapable of understanding the 
 law. In accordance with these principles, I 
 would never punish a child who is incapable of 
 distinguishing between right and wrong, not 
 until he shall have been forewarned of the wrong, 
 and taught to avoid it." 
 
 "These principles seem very reasonable to me," 
 said Eliza, "but they can never be applied to 
 children. If you do not correct a child until it 
 is old enough to learn from precept the difference 
 between right and wrong, there will be no living 
 in the house with it for the first five or six years 
 of its life, and no controlling it afterwards." 
 
 Gilbert received these views of his wife with 
 some alarm, and entered upon a long argument to 
 convince her that they were erroneous. She 
 maintained her own very well, but Gilbert had 
 
FAMILY GOVERNMENT 91 
 
 certainly the advantage of her in the argument. 
 All he could say, however, did not in the least 
 shake her confidence in her opinion. 
 
 I was at length appealed to, and I gave judg 
 ment in favor of Gilbert. 
 
 "Well," said she, "I never was better satisfied 
 of anything in my life than I am that you are 
 both wrong. But let us compromise this matter. 
 I ll agree to this: if ever I correct a child before it 
 is old enough to receive instruction from precept, 
 and you do not approve of my conduct, I will 
 then promise you never to do the like again." 
 
 "Well," said Gilbert, "that is very fair. One 
 more rule will settle the fundamentals, and we 
 may safely trust all others to future adjustment. 
 Let us never address our children in the non 
 sensical gibberish that is so universally prevalent 
 among parents, and particularly among mothers. 
 It is very silly in the first place, and it greatly 
 retards a child s improvement in the second. 
 Were it not for this, I have no doubt children 
 would speak their mother-tongue as correctly at 
 four years as they do at sixteen." 
 
 Eliza smiled, and observed that this was such 
 a small matter that it had also better be left for 
 future adjustment. To this Gilbert rather re 
 luctantly assented. 
 
92 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 About two months after this conversation Gil 
 bert was " blessed" with a fine son, whom he 
 named John James Gilbert, after the two grand 
 fathers and himself a profusion of names which 
 he had cause afterwards to repent. 
 
 Just fourteen months and six days thereafter 
 he was " blessed" with a fine daughter, whom 
 Eliza named Anna Frances Eliza, after the two 
 grandmothers and herself. 
 
 Fifteen months thereafter he received a third 
 blessing, like unto the first, which he called George 
 Henry, after his two brothers. 
 
 Thirteen months and nineteen days after the 
 birth of George, a fourth blessing descended 
 upon Gilbert, in the form of a fine son. This 
 took the name of William Augustus, after two 
 brothers of his wife. 
 
 Eliza now made a long rest of nineteen months, 
 four days and five hours (I speak from the family 
 record), when by way of amends she presented 
 her husband a pair of blessings. As soon as his 
 good fortune was made known to him, Gilbert 
 expressed regret that he had not reserved his 
 own name until now, in order that the twins 
 might bear his name and mine. Seeing this 
 could not be, he bestowed my name upon the first 
 born, and gave me the privilege of naming the 
 
FAMILY GOVERNMENT 93 
 
 second. As I considered "a good name rather 
 to be chosen than great riches," I called the 
 innominate, Isaac, after the patriarch, and a be 
 loved uncle of mine. In this very triumphant 
 and laudable manner did Mrs. Butler close the 
 list of her sons. 
 
 She now turned her attention to daughters, and 
 in the short space of five years produced three, 
 of which a queen might have been proud. Their 
 names in the order of their births were Louisa, 
 Rebecca, and Sarah. It was one of Mrs. Butler s 
 maxims, " If you have anything to do, do it at 
 once," and she seemed to have been governed by 
 this maxim in making up her family; for Sarah 
 completed the number of her children. 
 
 James was about a year old when I was again 
 at Gilbert s for the evening. He was seated by the 
 supper table with the child in his arms, addressing 
 some remark to me, when I called his attention 
 to the child who was just in the act of putting its 
 fingers in the blaze of the candle. Gilbert jerked 
 him away suddenly, which so disappointed and 
 incensed Master John James Gilbert that he 
 screamed insufferably. Gilbert tossed him, patted 
 him, walked him and whistled to him, but he 
 could not distract his attention from the candle. 
 He removed him out of sight of the luminary, 
 
94 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 but that only made matters worse. He now com 
 menced his first lesson in the "principles of good 
 government." He brought the child towards the 
 candle, and the nearer it approached the more 
 pacified it became. The child extended its arm 
 to catch the blaze, and Gilbert bore it slowly 
 towards the flame until the hand came nearly in 
 contact with it, when he snatched it away, cry 
 ing "bunny fingers," which is by interpretation, 
 "you ll burn your fingers." Eliza and I ex 
 changed smiles, but neither of us said anything. 
 
 The child construed this into wanton teasing, 
 and became, if possible, more obstreperous than 
 ever. Gilbert now resorted to another expedient. 
 He put his own fingers into the blaze, withdrew 
 them suddenly, blew them, shook them, and gave 
 every sign of acute agony. This not only quieted 
 but delighted the child, which signified to him 
 to do it again. He instantly perceived (what 
 was practically demonstrated the minute after 
 wards) that the child was putting a most dan 
 gerous interpretation upon his last illustration. 
 He determined, therefore, not to repeat it. The 
 child, not satisfied with the sport, determined to 
 repeat it himself; which the father opposing, he 
 began to reach and cry as before. There was 
 but one experiment left, and that was to let the 
 
FAMILY GOVERNMENT 9S 
 
 child feel the flame a little. This he resolved to 
 try; but how to conduct it properly was not so 
 easily settled. It would not do to allow the infant 
 to put his hand into the blaze, because it would 
 either burn it too little or too much. He there 
 fore resolved to direct the hand to a point so near 
 the flame that the increasing heat would induce 
 the child to withdraw his hand himself. Accord 
 ingly he brought the extended arm slowly towards 
 the flame, the child becoming more and more im 
 patient with every moment s postponement of its 
 gratification, until the hand came within about 
 an inch of the wick, when he held the child 
 stationary. But James would not let his hand 
 remain stationary, nor at a chosen point. He 
 kept snatching at the candle, till finding all his 
 efforts fruitless he threw himself violently back, 
 gave his father a tremendous thump on the nose 
 with the back of his head, and kicked and screamed 
 most outrageously. "You little rascal," said 
 Gilbert, "I ve a good mind to give you a good 
 spanking." 
 
 "Give him to me," said Mrs. Butler. 
 
 "You d better not take him," said Gilbert in 
 an undertone, "while he is in such a passion." 
 
 "No danger," said she; "hand him to me." 
 
 As she received him, "hush, sir!" said she 
 
96 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 sharply; and the child hushed instantly, and was 
 asleep in a few minutes. 
 
 "Strange," said Butler, "how much sooner the 
 mother acquires control over a child than the 
 father." 
 
 "Not at all," said Mrs. Butler. "You would 
 have controlled him as easily as I did, if you had 
 given him the same lesson beforehand that I 
 gave him. He got in just such an uproar the 
 other day, and finding nothing else would quiet 
 him, I spanked it out of him ; and I have had no 
 trouble in quieting him since." 
 
 "I begin to think, Butler," said I, "that Eliza 
 was right in the only points of difference between 
 you touching the management of children. I 
 observed that you addressed the child just now 
 in the gibberish which you so much condemned 
 before you became a father ; and though it seemed 
 ridiculous enough, especially in you, I think it 
 would have appeared still more ridiculous if you 
 had said to a child so young, James, my son, do 
 not put your fingers into the flame of the candle, 
 it will burn them. And your experiment has 
 taught you the absolute impossibility of govern 
 ing children of very tender years by prescribed 
 rules." 
 
 "I am half inclined to your opinion," said 
 
FAMILY GOVERNMENT 97 
 
 Butler. "Eliza s discipline has performed sev 
 eral good offices. It has relieved us of James in 
 sufferable noise; it has taught him to control his 
 temper at its first appearance, and it has taught 
 him the meaning of a word ( hush ) which will 
 often supply the place of correction and always 
 forewarn him of desires unlawful. However, this 
 case is an exception to my rule rather than a refu 
 tation of it. After a child gets old enough to 
 understand the language of instruction, he should 
 always be premonished before he is punished." 
 
 Eliza again joined issue with him, and an argu 
 ment ensued in which Gilbert silenced his wife as 
 before, but with no better effect upon her judg 
 ment. The matter was referred to me, and I de 
 cided this time in favor of his wife, rather upon 
 the doctrine of chances than of dialectics. 
 
 Gilbert now squared himself for an argument a 
 little more obstinate than that from which he 
 had just come off victorious. After waiting a 
 reasonable time, "Well," said he, "proceed." 
 
 "Proceed where?" said I. 
 
 "With your reasons." 
 
 "I ve got no reasons," said I, " except that your 
 wife thinks so." 
 
 "Well, really," returned he, " that is very pro 
 found, and proves you to be the best judge for 
 
9 8 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 the decision of my wife s controversies that she 
 could select/ 
 
 "There may be more sound philosophy in it," 
 rejoined I, "than at first appears. Your wife has 
 already proved herself to be a better judge of 
 these matters than both of us put together, and 
 I think I understand why it is so. She has had 
 ten times the experience in them that we have had. 
 Her habits of life have been domestic; she has 
 seen children of all ages and under all circum 
 stances; and from sixteen to twenty-three she 
 supplied her mother s place in her father s family." 
 
 "A very handsome retreat," said Gilbert. 
 
 Long before the second son arrived at the 
 reasoning age Gilbert abdicated, unreservedly, in 
 favor of his wife, contenting himself with the 
 subordinate station of her ministerial officer, in 
 which he executed her orders in cases requiring 
 more physical strength than she possessed. 
 
V. 
 A FAMILY PICTURE. 
 
 I now introduce the reader to the same family 
 in the preceding sketch, after most of the children 
 had reached the "age of reason." In contem 
 plating the scene which I am about to describe, 
 he will be pleased to turn his thoughts occasionally 
 to Gilbert s "principles of good government." 
 
 The youngest child was some two years and a 
 half old when Gilbert invited me to breakfast 
 with him one December morning, near the Christ 
 mas holidays. It was the time appointed for the 
 killing of hogs, which, as the Southern reader 
 knows, is a sort of family carnival in Georgia. 
 The killing of the fatted calf of the olden time 
 pales in comparison with the family joy and 
 cheer at a "hog killing" on the plantation. 
 
 I went, and found all the children at home and 
 Gilbert s mother added to the family circle. James 
 and Anna had reached the age when they were 
 permitted to take seats at the first table, though 
 upon this occasion James being engaged about the 
 pork, did not avail himself of the privilege; the 
 rest of the children were taught to wait for the 
 
 (99) 
 
ioo STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 second table. Breakfast was announced, and 
 after the adults and Anna had dispatched their 
 meal the children were summoned. As they had 
 been taught not to seat themselves at the table 
 until bidden, and as there were some few prepara 
 tory arrangements to be made, they all gathered 
 around the fire, clamorous with the events of the 
 morning. 
 
 "By jocky," said William, "didn t that old 
 black barrer weigh a heap!" 
 
 " Look here, young gentleman," said his mother, 
 "where did you pick up such language as that? 
 Now let me ever hear you by jockying, or by any 
 thing else again, and I ll by jocky you with a 
 witness, I ll warrant you." 
 
 "But the black barrer," said George, "didn t 
 weigh as much for his size as the bob-tail speckle, 
 though." 
 
 "He did!" 
 
 "He didn t!" 
 
 " Hush your disputing this instant, stop it 
 you shall not contradict each other in that 
 manner. And let us hear no more of your hog 
 pen wonders nobody wants to hear them." 
 
 At this instant William snatched a pig-tail out 
 of Isaac s hand. 
 
 "Ma," said Isaac, "make Bill gi me muh tail." 
 
A FAMILY PICTURE 101 
 
 "You William, give him his thing. And if I 
 was near you I d box your ears" for that Snatching. 
 Mr. Butler, you really wiir*hav to -take, that 
 fellow in hand. He s getting so that I can d6 
 nothing with him." 
 
 "If he don t behave himself," said Butler care 
 lessly, "just turn him over to me; I reckon I can 
 manage him." 
 
 "Ma," said Bill, "he took my blather" 
 
 "Hush!" 
 
 "I didn t!" 
 
 "You did!" 
 
 "Didn t I tell you to hush your disputing?" 
 
 "Well, Ma, Uncle York give it to me." 
 
 "He didn t, Uncle Monday give it to me." 
 
 "He didn t!" 
 
 "He did!" 
 
 Here the mother divided a pair of slaps equally 
 between the disputants, which silenced them for 
 a few moments. 
 
 At this juncture Miss Rebecca cried out with 
 a burnt finger, which she received in cooking 
 another pig-tail. The burn was so slight that 
 she forgot it as the mother jerked her from the 
 fire. 
 
 "You little vixen," said the mother, "what 
 possesses you to be fumbling about the fire? Mr. 
 
102 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 Butler, I beseech you to forbid the negroes giving 
 t^iesie childreiL any more of those horrid pig-tails. 
 They are & a sourqe of endless torment. And now, 
 young gentlemen one and all of you the next 
 one that brings one of those things into this house 
 again, I ll box his ears as long as I can find him. 
 Now remember! Come along to breakfast." 
 
 In a little time, after some controversy about 
 places, which was arrested by the mother s eye, 
 they were all seated ; James, who had dropped in 
 in the meantime, taking his father s seat. 
 
 "Is-s-sp!" said William, smacking his lips, 
 "sassidges! that s what I love." 
 
 "Poo!" said Isaac, "spare-ribs! that s what I 
 love." 
 
 "Well, cease your gab, and eat what s set be 
 fore you without comment. Nobody cares what 
 you love, or what you don t love." 
 
 "Souse," said Abraham, "I don t love souse I 
 wouldn t eat souse ta n t fitten for a dog to 
 eat." 
 
 "Get up, sir; get right up from the table, and 
 march out of the house until you learn better 
 manners. I ll be bound if I say you shall eat 
 souse, you eat it. Do you hear me, sir?" 
 
 Abraham raked himself lazily out of his seat, 
 and moved slowly off, casting a longing look at 
 
A FAMILY PICTURE 103 
 
 the many good things on the table which he 
 thought "fitten" for a prince to eat. 
 
 "Ma," said he, as he retired, "I wish you d 
 make Bill quit laughing at me." 
 
 "William, I ve as great a mind as ever I had 
 to do anything in my life, to send you from the 
 table and not let you eat one mouthful. I de 
 spise that abominable disposition you have of 
 rejoicing at your brother s misfortunes. Remem 
 ber, sir, what Solomon says : He that is glad at 
 calamities shall not be unpunished/ " 
 
 "Ma," said Abraham, "mayn t I come back to 
 breakfast?" 
 
 "Yes, if you think you can now behave your 
 self with decency." 
 
 Abraham returned; and now they all broke 
 forth at once: "Ma, mayn t I have some sas- 
 sidge?" "Ma, I want some spare-rib." "Ma, I 
 a n t got no coffee." "Ma, if you please, ma am, 
 let me have some ham-gravy, and some fried 
 hominy, and some egg, and " 
 
 "And some everything on the table, I sup 
 pose! Put down your plates every one of you. 
 George, what will you have?" 
 
 "Some sassidge, and some fried potato." 
 
 "James, help your brother George." 
 
 "What do you want, William?" 
 
io 4 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 " I want some spare-rib and some fried hominy." 
 
 "Chancy, help William." 
 
 "What do you want, Abraham?" 
 
 "I reckon," said James, smiling, "he d like a 
 little souse." 
 
 "Now, James, behave yourself. He has suf 
 fered the punishment of his fault, and let it rest 
 there." 
 
 "I ll have," said Abraham, "some ham-gravy 
 and some egg, and some hominy." 
 
 " Help him, Chaney." 
 
 " What ll you have, Isaac?" 
 
 "I ll have some ham-gravy, and some hominy, 
 and some sassidge, and some spare-rib and some " 
 
 "Well, you re not going to have everything on 
 the table, I assure you. What do you want?" 
 
 "I want some ham-gravy, and some hominy." 
 
 "James , help I" 
 
 "No, I don t want no gravy, I want spare-rib." 
 
 "James, give him " 
 
 "No, I don t want no spare-rib, I want sas 
 sidge-" 
 
 " Well, if you don t make up your mind pretty 
 quick; you ll want your breakfast, I tell you. 
 I m not going to be tantalized all day long with 
 your wants. Say what you want and have done 
 with it." 
 
A FAMILY PICTURE 105 
 
 " I want some ham-gravy and some sassidge, 
 and some hominy." 
 
 "Help him, James." 
 
 James helped him to about a teaspoonful from 
 each dish. 
 
 "Now, Ma, jist look at bud Jim! He ha n t 
 gi me only jist these three little bits o bites." 
 
 "James, if you can t keep from tantalizing the 
 children, tell me so, and I will not trouble you to 
 help them anymore. I confess that I am at a 
 loss to discover what pleasure one of your age can 
 take in teasing your younger brothers." 
 
 "Rebecca, what do you want?" 
 
 "I want my pig-tail, ma am." 
 
 "Bless my soul and body, haven t you forgot 
 that pig-tail yet? It s burnt up long ago, I 
 hope. Look, Bob, and see, and if it isn t, give it 
 to her. I wish in my heart there was never a 
 pig-tail upon the face of the earth." 
 
 Bob produced the half-charred pig-tail and laid 
 it on Miss Rebecca s plate. 
 
 "There," continued her mother, "I hope now 
 your heart s at ease. A beautiful dish it is truly 
 for any mortal to take a fancy to. " 
 
 "Ma, I don t want this pig-tail." 
 
 " Take it away I knew you didn t want it, 
 you little perverse brat ! I knew you didn t want 
 
io6 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 it; and I don t know what got into me to let 
 you have it. But really I am so tormented out 
 of my life that half the time I hardly know 
 whether I m standing on my head or my heels. " 
 
 " Mis es," said Chaney, "Aunt Dorcas say please 
 make Miss Louisa come out of the kitchen say 
 if you don t make her come out o the fire she ll 
 git burnt up d rekly say every time she tell her 
 to come out o the fire she make mouths at her. " 
 
 4 Why, sure enough, where is Louisa? Go, and 
 tell her to come in to her breakfast this instant. " 
 
 " I did tell her ma am : and she say she won t 
 come till she gets done bakin her cake." 
 
 Mrs. Butler left the room, and soon appeared 
 with Louisa sobbing, and crying: "Aunt Dorcas 
 jerked me jist as hard as ever she could jerk, 
 fore I did anything tall to her." 
 
 "Hold your tongue! She served you right 
 enough; you d no business in there. You re a 
 pretty thing to be making mouths at a person old 
 enough to be your grandmother. If I d thought 
 when I gave you that little lump of dough, that 
 the whole plantation was to be turned upside down 
 I d have let you do without it." 
 
 Miss Louisa, after a little sobbing and pouting, 
 drew from her apron a small, dirty, ashy, black, 
 wrinkled, burnt biscuit, warm from the kitchen 
 
A FAMILY PICTURE 107 
 
 shovel, which would have been just precisely the 
 proper accompaniment to Miss Rebecca s dish; 
 and upon this, in preference to everything on the 
 table, she commenced her repast. 
 
 "Well, Lou," said her mother with a laugh, as 
 she cast her eye upon the unsightly biscuit, "you 
 certainly have a strange taste!" 
 
 Everybody knows that the mother s laugh is 
 always responded to with compound interest by 
 all her children. So was it in this instance; and 
 good humor prevailed around the table. 
 
 11 I m sorry," said Abraham, "for Louisa s 
 b-i-s, bis, k-i-t, kit, biskit. " 
 
 " Well, really, " said Mrs. B. " You are a hand 
 some speller. Is that the way you spell biscuit? " 
 
 "I can spell it, Ma!" bawled out Isaac. 
 
 "Well, spell it." 
 
 "B-i-s, bis c- (Well, that s right!) h " 
 
 "Ah, well, that ll do, you needn t go any 
 further; you ve missed it farther than your 
 brother. Spell it, William." 
 
 William spelled it correctly. 
 
 "Ma," said George, "what is biscuit derived 
 from?" 
 
 "I really do not know," said Mrs. B. "And 
 yet I have somewhere read an explanation of it. 
 James, what is it derived from?" 
 
io8 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 James. " From the French: bis, twice, and cuit, 
 baked." 
 
 Butler. "Rather from two Latin words which 
 mean the same thing; one of which the French 
 have changed as we have it, while they have pre 
 served the other unaltered." 
 
 William. "Why, Ma, you don t bake biscuits 
 twice over!" 
 
 Abraham. "Yes, Ma does sometimes; don t 
 you, Ma, when company comes?" 
 
 Mother. "No; I sometimes warm over cold 
 ones, when I haven t time to make fresh ones, 
 but never bake them twice. " 
 
 Butler. " They were first made to carry to sea; 
 and they were then baked twice over, as I believe 
 sea biscuits still are." 
 
 Isaac. "Ma, what s breakfast rived from?" 
 
 Mother. "Spell it, and you will see." 
 
 Isaac. " B-r-e-c-k, breck, f-u-s-t, fust, breck- 
 fust." 
 
 Mother. "Well, Ike, you are a grand speller. 
 Breakfast is the word; not breckfust. " 
 
 Abraham. " I know what it comes from." 
 
 Mother. "What?" 
 
 Abraham. " You know when you call us chil en 
 to breakfast, we all break off and run as fast as we 
 can split." 
 
A FAMILY PICTURE 109 
 
 Mother. " Well, that is a brilliant derivation, 
 truly. Do you suppose there was no breakfast 
 before you children were born?" 
 
 Abraham. " But, Ma, everybody has chil en." 
 
 Mrs. Butler explained the term. 
 
 Isaac. "Ma, I know what sassidge comes from." 
 
 Mother. -What?" 
 
 Isaac. " Cause it s got sass in it. " 
 
 Mother "Well there, there, there, I ve got 
 enough of your derivations unless they are better. 
 You ll learn all these things when you grow older. " 
 
 Just here Miss Sarah, who had been breakfasting 
 at a side-table, was seized with a curiosity to see 
 what was on the breakfast table. 
 
 Accordingly she undertook to draw herself up 
 to a convenient elevation by the table cloth. Her 
 mother arrested her just in time to save a cup, 
 and pushed her aside with a gentle admonition. 
 This did not in the least abate Miss Sarah s 
 curiosity, and she recommenced her experiment. 
 Her mother removed her a little more emphatic 
 ally this time. These little interruptions only 
 fired Miss Sarah s zeal; and she was returning to 
 the charge with redoubled energy, when she ran 
 her cheek against the palm of her mother s hand 
 with a rubific force. 
 
 Away she went to her grandmother, crying, 
 
no STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 "Gramma, Ma whipped your prettous darlin 
 angel baby." 
 
 " Did she, my darling ! Then grandma s precious 
 darling angel baby must be a good child, and 
 mother won t whip it any more. " 
 
 " Well, I will be a dood chile. " 
 
 " Well, then, mother won t whip it any more. " 
 And this conference was kept up without the varia 
 tion of a letter on either side until the grand 
 mother deemed it expedient to remove Miss Sarah 
 to an adjoining room, lest the mother should insist 
 upon the immediate fulfilment of her promises. 
 
 " Ma, just look at Abe ! cried out William. " He 
 saw me going to take a biscuit, and he snatched 
 up the very one I was going to take. " 
 
 "Abe," said the mother, "I do wish I could 
 make you quit nicknaming each other ; and I wish 
 more that I had never set you the example. Put 
 down that biscuit, sir, and take another." 
 
 Abraham returned the biscuit, and William took 
 it up with a sly but triumphant giggle at Abra 
 ham. 
 
 "Ma," said Abraham, " Bill said God durn. " 
 
 "La, what a story! Ma, I declare I never 
 said no such thing. " 
 
 "Yes you did, and Chaney heard you." 
 
 William s countenance immediately showed 
 
A FAMILY PICTURE m 
 
 that his memory had been refreshed; and he 
 drawled out, I never nohow," with a tone and 
 countenance that plainly imparted guilt to some 
 extent. His mother suspected he was hinging 
 upon technics, and she put the probing question 
 
 " Well, what did you say? 
 
 "I said, I be tetotly od-durn. " 
 
 "And that s just as bad. Mr. Butler, you 
 positively will have to take this boy in hand. He 
 evinces a strong propensity to profane swearing 
 which if not corrected immediately will become 
 ungovernable. " 
 
 " Whenever you can t manage him, " said Butler 
 as before, " just turn him over to me, and I reckon 
 I can cure him." 
 
 It is due to Butler here to state that it was 
 mutually understood between him and his wife, 
 that her credit was not staked upon these general 
 drafts, and therefore he did not feel himself bound 
 to honor them; but whenever she valued on him 
 (as the merchants say) for a specific amount or a 
 special purpose, her bills were never dishonored. 
 
 "When did he say it?" inquired the mother, 
 returning to Abraham. 
 
 "You know that time you sent us all to the 
 new ground to pick peas?" 
 
 "Why, that s been three months ago at least; 
 
112 
 
 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 and you ve just thought now of telling it! Oh, 
 you malicious toad, you. Where do you learn to 
 bear malice so long? I abhor that trait of char 
 acter in a child. " 
 
 "Ma," said Bill, "Abe ha n t said his prayers 
 for three nights. 
 
 Abe and Bill now swapped places and coun 
 tenances. 
 
 "Yes," said the mother, "and I suppose I 
 should never have heard of that if Abraham 
 had not told of your profanity. " 
 
 "I know better," dragged out Abraham, in 
 reply to William. 
 
 "Abraham," said the mother solemnly, "did 
 you kneel down when you said your prayers last 
 night?" 
 
 "Yes, ma am," said Abraham, brightening a 
 little. 
 
 "Yes, Ma," continued Bill, "he kneels down 
 and fore I say now I lay me down to sleep 
 he jumps up every night and hops in bed and 
 says he s done said his prayers, and he ha n t had 
 time to say half a one." 
 
 During this narrative, my namesake kept 
 cowering under the steadfast frown of his mother, 
 until he transformed himself into a perfect per 
 sonification of idiocy. 
 
A FAMILY PICTURE 113 
 
 " How many prayers did you say last night, 
 Abraham?" pursued the mother in an awfully 
 portentous tone. 
 
 "I said one, and " (here Abraham paused). 
 
 "One and what?" 
 
 "One and piece of t other one." 
 
 "Why, Ma, he could nt ha said it to save his 
 life, for he hadn t time " 
 
 "Hush, sir, I don t ask for your assistance." 
 
 "I did," muttered Abraham, "I said t other 
 piece after I got in bed." 
 
 "Abraham," said his mother, "I declare I do 
 not know what to say to you. I am so mortified, 
 so shocked, at this conduct, that I am completely A v 
 at a loss how to express myself about it. Suppose 
 you had died last night after trifling with 
 your prayers as you did; who can say what 
 would have become of you? Is it possible that 
 you cannot spend a few minutes in prayer to your 
 heavenly Father, who feeds you, who clothes you, 
 and who gives you everything you have in the 
 world! You poor sinful child, I could weep over 
 you!" 
 
 Poor Abraham evinced such deep contrition 
 under this lecture (for he sobbed as if his heart 
 would break) that his mother deemed it prudent 
 to conclude with suasives, which she did in the 
 
ii 4 "STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 happiest manner. Having thus restored Abra 
 ham s equanimity in a measure, with a gently 
 encouraging smile, she continued: 
 
 " And now, Abraham, tell your mother how you 
 came to say a second prayer?" 
 
 "I couldn t go to sleep till I said it, ma am." 
 " Well, that is a good sign at least. And what 
 part was it?" 
 
 " God bless my father and my mother. " 
 Mrs. Butler felt quickly for her handkerchief. 
 It had fallen from her lap, and she was glad of it. 
 She depressed her head below the table in search 
 of it dismissed the children before she raised it 
 and then rose with a countenance suffused with 
 smiles and tears. 
 
 "My poor children," said she, "what an odd 
 compound of good and bad they are !" The grand 
 mother returned just at this time, and displaying 
 some uneasiness at Mrs. Butler s tears, the latter 
 explained. As she concluded "The Lord bless 
 the poor dear boy," exclaimed the venerable ma 
 tron, raising her apron to her eyes, "that shows 
 he s got a good heart. No danger of the child 
 that can t sleep till he prays for his father and 
 mother." 
 
VI. 
 THE OLD WOMEN. 
 
 A TRIBUTE. 
 
 I love the aged matrons of our land. As a 
 class, they are the most pious, the most benev 
 olent, the most useful and the most harmless of 
 the human family. 
 
 Their life is a life of good offices. At home, they 
 are patterns of industry, care, economy and 
 hospitality; abroad, they are ministers of com 
 fort, peace, and consolation. Where affliction is, 
 there are they to mitigate its pangs ; where sorrow 
 is, there are they to assuage its pains. 
 
 Nor night, nor day, nor summer s heat, nor 
 winter s cold, nor angry elements, can deter them 
 from scenes of suffering and distress. 
 
 They are first at the fevered couch, and the 
 last to leave it. They hold the cup to the parched 
 lip, they bind the aching head, close the dying eye, 
 and linger in the death-stricken habitation to 
 pour the last drop of consolation into the afflicted 
 bosoms of the bereaved. 
 
 ("5) 
 
VII. 
 THE MATCHMAKER. 
 
 JULIA AND CLARISSA. 
 
 In times gone by there resided in the village 
 
 of a widow lady whose name was Carp. 
 
 She was a woman of good practical sense, great 
 industry, and commendable economy, so that 
 the estate left her by her husband, consisting of 
 all he had, and just enough to place her in com 
 fortable circumstances, rather increased than di 
 minished under her management. Her educa 
 tion was very limited, but her manners were, 
 upon the whole, agreeable; though, as she often 
 said herself, "she was not mealy-mouthed about 
 telling people what she thought of them, if 
 they came putting on airs about her; for she 
 thought herself as good as Mrs. Anybody." It 
 was her honor or her fault, as the reader may 
 esteem it that she never married again, after 
 the death of her husband; though she might 
 have done so. She, therefore, as three or four 
 other widows have done in the United States, 
 falsified the remark of one of her townsmen, 
 viz: "Cut a widow s finger, and if it ll bleed 
 
 (116) 
 
THE MATCHMAKER 117 
 
 she ll marry again." By her husband s decease, 
 Mrs. Carp was left in charge of two children of 
 tender years. The oldest was a son whose name 
 was Osborn; the youngest was a daughter 
 whose name was Julia. To both, the mother 
 gave as good an education as could be got at 
 the best schools in the State. 
 
 About ten years after the death of Mr. Carp, 
 died the wealthiest citizen of the village, Mr. 
 Gage, leaving a clear estate of sixty thousand 
 dollars, to be divided equally between his widow 
 and a daughter, his only child. The loss of her 
 husband nearly cost Mrs. Gage her life. So 
 deep and inconsolable was her grief that the 
 whole village became alarmed for her safety. 
 If she received any solace for a month after her 
 bereavement, it was from Mrs. Carp, who had 
 proved her devotion to her husband, and there 
 fore had gained the esteem and respect of Mrs. 
 Gage; and who endeared herself to her still 
 more, by weeping for her own husband afresh, 
 as often as Mrs. Gage wept for hers, and de 
 scribing Mrs. Gage s present feelings in her own 
 past history. Either from these kind offices of 
 Mrs. Carp, or because violent grief necessarily 
 soon wears itself out, or both, Mrs. Gage s grief 
 was so far assuaged in the course of two months, 
 
n8 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 or less, that she could calmly visit the church. 
 Though it is a little aside from my purpose, I 
 cannot forbid to mention here how the wounds 
 of the afflicted lady s bosom, yet uncicatrized, 
 were torn open afresh by one of those unfeeling 
 wretches who can sport over the grave of wo 
 man s hopes and jest at the widow s tears. But 
 thrice had Mrs. Gage gone to church before the 
 barbarian just alluded to remarked, "that he 
 saw plainly that Mrs. Gage thought, already, 
 twice of a live man, where she thought once of 
 a dead one." It may be a salutary warning to 
 such unfeeling creatures, to be informed that 
 this remark soon reached the ears of Mrs. Gage, 
 and it distressed her to such a degree that she 
 resolved never to leave the house again; and 
 to this resolution she would have undoubtedly 
 adhered but for the entreaty of her friends, and 
 other considerations. Her daughter, Clarissa, 
 found a tender and sympathizing friend in Julia, 
 and a still more tender and sympathizing friend 
 in Osborn. The attachment of the girls to each 
 other increased with their years. 
 
 Mrs. Gage, finding herself in her distress of 
 mind utterly incapable of managing so large an 
 estate, on the May succeeding the September in 
 which Mr. Gage died, gave her part of it, with 
 
THE MATCHMAKER n 9 
 
 her hand and the guardianship of her daughter, to 
 Parson Dove, a gentleman of great merit, to 
 whom she was indebted for many consolations. 
 Soon after this union, Clarissa was sent to a dis 
 tant State to complete her education. She re 
 turned after an absence of three years, in all 
 respects greatly improved. The two young la 
 dies now became like twin sisters. They could 
 not be separated more than two days at a time, 
 and if they were that long apart, several affec 
 tionate or playful notes passed between them. 
 They dressed alike, put up their hair alike, called 
 each other cousin, slept together almost every 
 night, interchanged all the secrets they had (and 
 some that they had not), kissed whenever they 
 met or parted, and, in short, gave every mani 
 festation of attachment that girls could give. 
 There was a shade of difference between Clarissa 
 and Julia, but it was very slight. Clarissa 
 would sometimes purchase articles without first 
 consulting her friend; this Julia never did; and 
 Clarissa always dropped to sleep, leaving Julia 
 talking and Julia never was so impolite. It 
 was well that she was not, or it is likely they 
 would have got no sleep at all when they occu 
 pied the same bed ; for, as it was, they generally 
 talked until after midnight. 
 
120 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 In the meantime, Osborn, while he had all his 
 own feeling towards Clarissa (and they were of 
 the tenderest kind), partook somewhat of his 
 sister s. He called Clarissa coz too laughed 
 and jested with the girls with a brotherly famil 
 iarity, and, indeed, treated them in all respects 
 alike; except that when he compared their 
 hands to see which was the largest or handsom 
 est, he pressed Clarissa s a little harder, and held 
 it a little longer, than he did Julia s; and except 
 that when he exchanged their rings, it took him 
 longer to get off and put on Clarissa s than 
 Julia s; and except that when he and Clarissa 
 were alone, he seemed to have much more fre 
 quent yearnings for the sentimental than he 
 had when he and his sister were alone; and ex 
 cept that when he was gallanting both, he held 
 Clarissa s arm a little closer to his side than he 
 did Julia s, and paid a little more attention to 
 her remarks than to Julia s, and smiled a little 
 more benignantly upon them. With these ex 
 ceptions, and a few others of no more import 
 ance, Osborn extended the same conduct to 
 both the girls and it met with precisely the 
 same return from both except that in the ring 
 scenes Clarissa would disengage her hand from 
 Osborn s after a while, and Julia would not; 
 
THE MATCHMAKER 
 
 121 
 
 and in the sentimental scenes Clarissa would 
 always laugh them off, with a careless levity, 
 while Julia would take a lively interest in them 
 and except that his sister sometimes gave him a 
 kiss at parting, which Clarissa never did. Never 
 theless, Clarissa treated Osborn with great good 
 humor and kindness. Thus matters went on 
 for eighteen months, and as I have nothing of 
 more interest to fill up the interim, I will fill it 
 up so far as the reader will allow, with 
 
 YOUNG NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 "Oh, Clarissa," said Julia, one evening, as 
 soon as they had composed their heads on their 
 pillows: "I often think of the time when we 
 must separate, and it almost breaks my heart. 
 When shall I find another friend that I love so 
 dearly? I don t remember that we ever differed 
 in opinion in all our lives." 
 
 "Nor I," said Clarissa. "But it will be long, 
 I hope, before we part." And here they em 
 braced and kissed. 
 
 "No, Clarissa, you will soon get married, and 
 then farewell to poor Julia." 
 
 "Oh! Julia, I hope you don t think that if I 
 were to get married (which I have not the most 
 distant idea of) that it would lessen my affec- 
 
122 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 tion for you. I ve had my own feelings too much 
 hurt in that way, ever to treat another in the 
 same way. You ve often heard me speak of 
 my old schoolmate, Betsy Willis ?" 
 
 "Yes; and sometimes I have felt right jealous 
 of her." 
 
 " I loved Betsy dearly and when we parted 
 we promised solemnly that we would write to 
 each other every month, at least, as long as we 
 lived. Well, we corresponded for about six 
 months, when she got married, and I have not 
 received a line from her since. And, would you 
 believe it, I heard her fairly abuse Fanny Saw 
 yer for the very self-same thing. I never ex 
 pected Betsy would have served me so. It 
 was the same way with Caroline Wild, Sarah 
 Marshall and Mary Jones. Think you that I 
 could ever act thus toward you?" 
 
 "Oh! no," said Julia, "I have no idea you 
 would lose your affection for me; but then you 
 would move away to some far distant land, 
 where I should never see you again ; and I don t 
 believe that I should get over it as long as I live. 
 But how common it is for girls as soon as they 
 get married, to forget their old friends. There 
 must be something very enrapturing in the mar 
 ried state, Clarissa." 
 
THE MATCHMAKER 123 
 
 " Oh ! I ve no doubt, returned Clarissa, " that it 
 is the most blissful state on earth, when founded 
 on pure affection." 
 
 "Nor I. I can t conceive of anything so trans 
 porting as to be able to call that object upon 
 which your heart dotes, your own." 
 
 Here the girls embraced. 
 
 "Julia, I do love you," said Clarissa. 
 
 "Oh, Clarissa!" said Julia, plaintively and 
 they wept, I know not why. 
 
 "Will you ever leave me, Clarissa?" said Julia, 
 after a short pause. 
 
 "Never. If I should get married (and cer 
 tainly it shall not be for three years to come ; for 
 Ma says she will never consent to my marrying 
 before I m twenty-one) if I should get married. 
 I never will leave this village." 
 
 "Oh! Clarissa, how happy I am to hear you 
 say that! But what objection has your Ma to 
 your marrying now? I am sure you are old 
 enough." 
 
 "Yes; but she thinks it s not prudent for girls 
 to marry too young. She says it is the most 
 important step that can be taken in this life, and 
 therefore should not be taken without the great 
 est care and deliberation. She can t bear hasty 
 marriages." 
 
124 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 "Well, my mother thinks that a girl should 
 never wait longer than till she s seventeen; 
 that s the time, she says, when the heart is ten- 
 derest and the affections warmest and when 
 girls are most apt to marry for love. Do, Cla 
 rissa, get married at once, I m so afraid you will 
 change your mind about leaving the village." 
 
 "What, against my mother s counsel?" 
 
 "Oh! no; but I m sure your mother never 
 would object if she knew your happiness de 
 pended upon it." 
 
 "No, I don t suppose she would; but remem 
 ber, coz, I ve no offer as yet." 
 
 "But you have had four already, and doubt 
 less soon will have another; and do take the 
 next." 
 
 "Well, if he s a right clever fellow, maybe I 
 will. But you don t seem to recollect that you 
 may marry and go off and leave me." 
 
 "No, Clarissa," said Julia, pensively; "my 
 circumstances are such that I cannot hope to 
 marry soon. My father was once rich, I ve 
 heard my mother say that just before brother 
 Osborn was born, he was worth twenty thou 
 sand dollars, and in two short years he lost nearly 
 all of it, by being security for a man by the name 
 of Smith." 
 
THE MATCHMAKER 125 
 
 Julia wept over her father s shattered fortune, 
 and Clarissa gave her a sympathetic embrace 
 and a sigh of condolence. 
 
 "But, Julia," said Clarissa, "I always thought 
 your father was in easy circumstances ; wasn t he? " 
 
 "Oh, yes; he had a plenty to live on, and to 
 live comfortably, but he left barely enough to 
 support his family. When I think what my 
 father has been, and how he was reduced by the 
 meanness of that man Smith, I almost wish there 
 never had been a man in the world. I know 
 it s foolish, but if you ll believe me, I never have 
 been able to like a man named Smith. Have 
 you ever noticed how few of them are distin 
 guished? Almost all of them have some fault, 
 and I don t think I ever knew one who made 
 a truly devoted, affectionate husband; they are 
 always cross and crabbed to their wives. Just 
 look how John treats his wife. But though I 
 never can hope to be rich, yet I know that as 
 long as brother Osborn lives I shall never want. 
 He is one of the best of brothers to me, and one 
 the best of sons to my mother. There is not a 
 wish of our hearts that he can gratify, that he 
 does not. We both have to scold him some 
 times right sharply for exposing his health too 
 much on our account. If either of us be the 
 
i26 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 least unwell, you can hardly force him from our 
 bedside. I do believe that a long spell of sick 
 ness of either of us would cost him his life. He 
 will sit up from night s end to night s end; and 
 when urged to go to bed he will say, why, 
 mother, I could not rest if I were to retire* 
 why, sister, I assure you I am not sleepy (" Not 
 much," said Clarissa, softly) sometimes, when 
 he tells me so, I say to him but, brother Os- 
 born, I know you are sleepy " 
 
 "Emph?" said Clarissa, like the twang of a 
 fiddle-string. "No, indeed, I am not sleeping, 
 Julia; I hear every word you say. Which of 
 the Smiths was it treated your father so?" 
 
 "Turner," said Julia, crustily. 
 
 "Yes, let s turn over" said Clarissa, sweetly. 
 
 SECOND NIGHT. 
 
 Mr. Smith passed away, and Dr. Ward, a 
 young physician of genteel person and agree 
 able manners, began to visit Clarissa. "Ward 
 is quite an agreeable young man," said Clarissa, 
 as she and her companion composed themselves 
 in the Talkery. "Oh, Clarissa!" exclaimed Julia, 
 "how can you say so! I think he is the most 
 affected creature I ever saw. He is not near as 
 interesting a man as Mr. Smith." 
 
THE MATCHMAKER 127 
 
 "Oh, yes, he is much more interesting than 
 Smith; I thought you didn t like Smith." 
 
 "No, I did not, much. But I thought him far 
 more agreeable than Dr. Ward. But I m prej 
 udiced against physicians, I suppose. I don t 
 believe I could be induced to marry a physician 
 if there was not another man in the world." 
 
 "Why, Julia?" 
 
 "Oh, I ve heard too much about them." 
 
 "But you never heard anything about Dr. 
 Ward, did you?" 
 
 "Haven t you?" 
 
 "No, never." 
 
 "You never heard anything about Dr. Ward!" 
 
 "Never, I ve always understood he was a very 
 moral man." 
 
 "Well," said Julia, thoughtfully, "I dare say 
 he is sometimes I get so mad with myself, for 
 letting my thoughtless tongue run on so, that I 
 think I never will speak again. Forgive me, 
 Clarissa, if I have hurt your feelings. I d rather 
 die than offend you. She wept. 
 
 "Why, Julia," said Clarissa, embracing her, 
 "what is the matter with you? You have said 
 nothing to offend me, I assure you. Do you 
 think I care anything about Dr. Ward why I 
 am hardly acquainted with him." 
 
i28 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 " Well, Clarissa, I want you to make one 
 promise, will you?" 
 
 "Yes, with pleasure." 
 
 "Well, if you and Dr. Ward should ever get 
 married, do not tell him what I have said. It 
 was a foolish thing and I am sorry for it." 
 
 "That I promise most cheerfully," said Cla 
 rissa, laughing, "and I ll promise you more than 
 that that I ll never marry Dr. Ward as long as 
 I live." 
 
 "Then I m safe," exclaimed Julia, exultingly, 
 and she pressed Clarissa to her bosom with a 
 lover s ardor, and covered her face with kisses; 
 "you have made me the happiest of beings. I 
 thought you were pleased with Dr. Ward. I 
 knew he would court you, and it flashed upon my 
 mind Clarissa may marry him, and then she 
 will tell him all I have said, and he will despise 
 me, and soon wean her affections from me, and 
 then I shall be miserable as long as I live. I m 
 sure, Clarissa, it would make me completely 
 wretched to lose your affections." 
 
 "But you said nothing; and surely had you 
 seen me going to marrry him, you would not 
 have permitted me to have done so without dis 
 closing to me anything you knew affecting his 
 moral character." 
 
THE MATCHMAKER 129 
 
 " I ought not to have done so ; but really, Cla 
 rissa, I love you so much, and am so much afraid 
 of losing your affections, that half the time I do 
 not know how to act." 
 
 "But what has Dr. Ward done? You haven t 
 told me that yet." 
 
 "Oh, let it pass, Clarissa; it s a matter of no 
 consequence. We oughtn t to speak ill of any 
 one, brother Osborn says. I don t think I ever 
 heard him speak a harsh word of a human being 
 in my life. Did you, Clarissa?" 
 
 "No, I don t think I ever did. I ve always 
 thought he possessed a most amiable disposi 
 tion." 
 
 "Clarissa, you do not know him. You never 
 can know him unless you live in the same family 
 with him." 
 
 " But you haven t told me yet what Dr. Ward 
 has done." 
 
 "Why, Clarissa, what makes you so anxious 
 to hear that? You alarm me again. You can 
 talk of nothing but Dr. Ward, Clarissa! Cla 
 rissa! Clarissa! why, Clarissa! what s the 
 matter?" 
 
 "Nothing." (Pensively.) 
 
 "Something is the matter with you." 
 
 "No, I believe nothing s the matter." 
 
 9 
 
130 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 "There is, for you re shedding tears." (Em- 
 bracing her.) " Oh, my dear coz, if I ve offended 
 you, I ask your pardon. I did not mean to hurt 
 your feelings. Won t you forgive me, Clarissa?" 
 (Weeping.) "I declare I don t know what I said 
 to wound your feelings." 
 
 "Julia," said Clarissa, after a long pause in 
 which they remained embraced like parting 
 lovers, "have I ever proved myself unworthy of 
 your confidence?" 
 
 "Why, no. Why do you ask such a question? 
 There is not a secret of my heart that I have 
 not told you. Oh, Clarissa, how could you sus 
 pect me of " 
 
 "Well, don t weep, Julia. You have always 
 opened your heart freely to me, and therefore I 
 felt pained that you should now distrust me, 
 when I have never breathed a secret of yours to 
 any human being living. I could not account 
 for it. It seemed to me so strange that you 
 should refuse to intrust me with the only secret 
 I ever asked you to communicate, that I could 
 not but feel hurt." 
 
 "Why, Clarissa, I do not know of any secret 
 that 1 have ever held from you, and I m sure I 
 never have withheld one that you asked me to 
 tell." 
 
THE MATCHMAKER 131 
 
 "Yes, Julia, I asked you twice distinctly to 
 tell me what Dr. Ward had done. But I sup 
 pose you didn t hear me; for I can t believe I 
 have lost your confidence." 
 
 "Pshaw, why is that all? (Laughing.) Why 
 it was such a trifling matter that I did not think 
 it worth telling. Everybody knows it. He was 
 called to see Miss Billington, who was taken ill 
 with a fever; she was very ill, and not expected 
 to live. One day when Dr. Ward was in the 
 room with her alone, old Mrs. M Corkle hap 
 pened to step in, and what should she see but 
 Dr. Ward, holding her hand and kissing her." 
 
 "And did she submit to it?" 
 
 " Why, poor girl, I expect she was so low that 
 she was unconscious of it. What a brute he 
 must be, to take advantage of his profession 
 and the sickness of his patient to insult her in 
 that way!" 
 
 "And what did Mrs. M Corkle do? Did she 
 tell her parents?" 
 
 " Oh, no, she told Mrs. Frisby of it, and she 
 told Mrs. Clacket, and Mrs. Clacket told Ma, 
 who told brother, who told me Oh, he can t 
 bear the sight of Ward. I reckon, Clarissa, he 
 has the tenderest regard for female character of 
 any being you ever saw," 
 
i 3 2 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 "Did Miss Billington die?" 
 
 "No, she s just getting about again; and peo 
 ple say that she is the most changed being they 
 ever saw. They say she looks despondent and 
 melancholy; and they do so say but I don t 
 know that I ought to tell that. If brother 
 Osborn knew that I d told you all this, he d be 
 very angry with me. He said he told me of it, 
 to put me on my guard; and that nothing else 
 would ever have induced him to broach it even 
 to me. But I know he d have no objection to 
 my telling it to you, for he feels to you as a 
 brother." 
 
 "I thought I saw that he seemed a little dis 
 tant and reserved towards Dr. Ward when they 
 met here, and I couldn t account for it; for the 
 Doctor seemed to be very respectful to him. Oh, 
 Julia, who is to be trusted? I thought Dr. Ward 
 was an extremely modest man. Sometimes I 
 wish there never was a man upon earth. I don t 
 believe there s a virtuous one in Georgia." 
 
 "Yes, there s one, Clarissa, if no other and 
 that s brother Osborn. He s as pure a being as 
 ever drew the breath of life." 
 
 " I ve no doubt but that he s as pure as the 
 most of them; but suppose he was not, do you 
 think you would know it?" 
 
THE MATCHMAKER i 33 
 
 "Know it! yes. There s not a thought of his 
 heart that he conceals from me. Did you ever 
 hear the first whisper against his reputation, 
 Clarissa?" 
 
 "No, nothing but the affair with Miss M Girk; 
 and you know I never believed that." 
 
 "It was as base a falsehood as was ever told 
 upon man. I had it from his own lips that it 
 was a lip. Oh, Clarissa, can you believe that 
 brother Osborn could ever degrade himself so 
 low as to address that Pol. M Girk?" 
 
 "No, Julia, I never did believe it; but you 
 asked me if I d ever heard of anything against 
 him. I never heard the particulars, but report 
 said he treated Mary M Girk badly." 
 
 "No, this was the way of it. Pol. M Girk 
 was dead in love with him, and she did not pre 
 tend to conceal it. She threw herself in his way 
 wherever he went. Ma warned him against 
 her, and told him to keep out of her company. \f 
 Well, said he, mother, I do as] much as I can, 
 but she puts herself in my way, and I must treat 
 her with civility. What can I do when she asks 
 me to walk with her, and then takes me off a 
 mile or more from the village just at dusk? 
 Why, said Ma, I d make some excuse, and 
 wouldn t go with her. But, said Osborn, I 
 
i 34 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 have made excuses, but I can t always be mak 
 ing excuses, and I dislike to hurt the feelings of 
 anyone, especially of a lady. You know, Cla 
 rissa, how tender he is of a lady s feelings always, 
 don t you?" 
 
 "Yes I Oh yes, always." 
 
 "Well, things went on that way for some time, 
 and mother was constantly at him 
 
 " Was constantly at him ! what a creature ! " 
 
 "Mother was. .She constantly urged him to 
 break off from her, and at last, said he, mother, 
 I ll do it, I ll do it. " 
 
 "Well, do it, Julia I would if I were you." 
 
 "Oh, Clarissa, don t go to sleep until I explain 
 that matter." 
 
 "Why, I m not sleepy, Julia; I m listening to 
 you." 
 
 "No, you ain t, you re going to sleep." 
 
 "Indeed I m not, I hear all you say, she took 
 him off a mile out of town at dusk, and what 
 did she do to him then?" 
 
 "Why then she brought him back again and 
 Ma made him quit keeping company with her 
 and she hatched up a whole parcel of lies and 
 told on him." 
 
 The next morning Osborn came in and an 
 nounced that Dr. Ward was married to Miss Bil- 
 
THE MATCHMAKER 135 
 
 lington. They were to have been married, he 
 said, some weeks earlier, but the wedding had 
 been prevented by her sickness. 
 
 But a few weeks rolled away before Clarissa 
 found a suitor indeed, in the person of Milton 
 
 ; foiy 
 
 Fisher, Esq., a young barrister, whose name 
 had been a full year before him at the village. 
 He had everything but wealth to recommend 
 him to a young lady, and so high was his pro 
 fessional reputation that all could see that he 
 was within a few years of a handsome fortune. 
 
 He visited Clarissa, spent an hour with her in 
 the forenoon retired, and returned and spent 
 the evening with her. He tried to be agreeable 
 to her, and succeeded. She tried to be agree 
 able to him, and succeded. 
 
 "And that is the great lawyer Fisher that is 
 so smart!" said Julia, as the girls entered the 
 dormitory. " He is certainly the most affected 
 being I ever beheld." 
 
 "Why, Julia!" exclaimed Clarissa: "I m as 
 tonished to hear you say so! I saw nothing like 
 affectation about him, and I thought him the 
 most agreeable man in his manners I ever 
 saw." 
 
 " I reckon if you d seen what I did, you wouldn t 
 have thought so." 
 
i 3 6 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 "What was it?" said Clarissa, with a little 
 extra interest. 
 
 "Why, when he was standing behind you, 
 and you were playing the piano, he reached his 
 head over your shoulder under pretence of look 
 ing at the notes, and looked right down your neck, 
 as brazen as he looked at his own pretty face 
 while he sat opposite the large looking-glass. I 
 was so provoked at him that I couldn t bear the 
 sight of him afterwards." 
 
 "Julia," said Clarissa, "I don t think he was 
 conscious of it; for I noticed that the instant I 
 struck the last note on a page, he turned over the 
 leaf. But he didn t see much, the saucy fellow, if 
 he was, for my cape nearly covered my " 
 
 "Oh, pshaw! Don t tell me about these jack- 
 legged lawyers not being conscious of such 
 things! And what s a lace cape. And that s a 
 piece of rudeness I never saw in any of your 
 visitors before. Brother Osborn saw it, I know; 
 and his face colored like crimson; and I was so 
 alarmed for fear he d insult him, I didn t know 
 what to do. And when you threw yourself back 
 in your chair and looked at him - 
 
 "Why, Julia, I didn t do~that, did I?" 
 
 "Yes, when you asked him about Miss Bryan s 
 playing " 
 
THE MATCHMAKER i 37 
 
 "Oh, yes, I recollect it now. It hurt my neck 
 so to keep turning my head round when I went 
 to address him " 
 
 " Well, it was then I really thought he would 
 have kissed you right before all of us." 
 
 "Oh, Julia, I know how that was. He didn t 
 hear me, and just bowed his head a little to hear 
 more distinctly." 
 
 "Oh, don t tell me I know em there was no 
 great noise, that he had to stick his ear within 
 an inch of your cheek to hear you. I heard you 
 distinctly, and I was three times as far from 
 you as he was." 
 
 "La! me, Julia! if we fall out with everybody 
 for such little trifles, we ll be forever in hot water. 
 Osborn has done the same thing a thousand 
 times " 
 
 "Why, Clarissa!" 
 
 "I reckon." 
 
 "Never never was he guilty of such rude 
 ness. If he was, I d disown him." 
 
 By this time the young ladies were abed, and 
 Julia put Clarissa to sleep as usual, with a descant 
 upon the sins of lawyers. This, however, was 
 not effected until nearly the break of day. 
 
 The next morning, a little before the usual 
 visiting hour, Mr. Fisher called, as he said, "but 
 
i 3 8 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 for a moment, to bid the young ladies farewell." 
 Julia courtesied to him formally; Clarissa re 
 ceived him graciously. He sat but a moment, 
 and bid them adieu. Julia tittered contemptu 
 ously as he left; and Clarissa bounded to the 
 piano, and struck up loudly with voice and in 
 strument, 
 
 "Wilt thou say farewell, love?" 
 
 She sung but a single verse, then closed the 
 piano. 
 
 "Well, certainly," said Julia, "he is the most 
 disagreeable being I ever saw, It was a great 
 piece of presumption in him to come all the 
 way up here, to bid us good-bye, upon a single 
 day s acquaintance." 
 
 "Oh, I don t think so, Julia. He said last 
 night, you know, that he would corne and bid us 
 adieu before he left." 
 
 "But who asked him to make the promise? 
 I m sure I didn t. Did you notice how red his 
 face was?" 
 
 "It seemed a little flushed, as I suppose from 
 diffidence." 
 
 "Oh, mercy! I m sorry for his diffidence! 
 Clarissa, isn t it strange that almost every lawyer 
 nowadays drinks?" 
 
 "Why, I never heard that before." 
 
THE MATCHMAKER 139 
 
 "You never heard how given to drink lawyers 
 were?" 
 
 "No, I never heard that they were more given 
 to drink than other people." 
 
 " Why, bless your soul, there is not a sober one 
 among them, at best; so they tell me. Mrs. 
 Bull says, that from daybreak to midnight it s 
 nothing but mint-slings, and grog, and brandy 
 toddy, and apple toddy, all kinds of drinks that 
 ever were heard of. She said if they didn t pay 
 well she never would entertain them, they are 
 such a drunken rowdy set " 
 
 Here the conversation was interrupted by the 
 appearance of Osborn. And the day passed off 
 as usual, except that Clarissa was a little pen 
 sive. 
 
 The brother and sister did not see Clarissa 
 the next day; but the day following Osborn 
 visited her, and found her in good spirits. 
 
 "Oh, Cousin Osborn," said she, "where have 
 you and Julia been all this time? It seems like 
 an age since I saw you. I would have been 
 over to your house yesterday, but I felt unwell. 
 Where is Julia?" 
 
 "She will be over this afternoon, she told me 
 to tell you; but she is detained just as she was 
 yesterday, about some business for mother." 
 
i 4 o STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 " And did you miss me, too, Cousin Clarissa?" 
 
 "Why, to be sure I did. And I take it right 
 unkindly that you did not come over if she could 
 not." 
 
 " It affords me a satisfaction, Clarissa, that you 
 little suppose, to learn that you take an interest 
 in my company. I have a feeling here." (Lay 
 ing his hand upon his heart.) 
 
 "Oh, come now, Cousin Osborn, you re getting 
 sentimental again. What s happened to you to 
 give you the blues? Come, be cheerful; I can t 
 bear to see you melancholy." 
 
 We need not go into detail of what followed. 
 Suffice it to say that Osborn had come over 
 this morning courting with malice aforethought, 
 and nothing could divert him from his purpose. 
 Clarissa tried every expedient to save him the 
 mortification of a refusal; but all in vain. The 
 Fates, those inexorable deities who figured so 
 largely in love affairs of old, seemed to have got 
 in a pet with him to-day, just for nothing at all ; 
 and as neither Juno nor Venus interested them 
 selves in his behalf, the cruel sisters played all 
 manner of pranks with him. They threw sand 
 in his eyes, so that he could not see Clarissa s 
 recoilings; they poured lead in his ears, so that 
 he could not hear her delicate rebuffs; they be- 
 
THE MATCHMAKER 141 
 
 wildered his judgment, so that he could not dis 
 tinguish between "sisterly love" and "brotherly 
 love" and true-and-true love nay, made him 
 think the first a better kind of love to marry 
 upon than the last. They gave him first the 
 trembles, then the heroics, and then the frantics, 
 and finally squeezed onion- juice in his eyes and 
 dismissed him weeping. Clarissa did all she could 
 to mitigate their wrath, and as he retired, begged 
 him to forget what had passed, and to continue 
 his visits as a friend; to which Osborn responded 
 with a half-melancholy, half-crusty grunt that 
 Clarissa did not hear. He took to the woods for 
 an hour or so, and then went home in tolerable 
 keeping, considering his hard usage. 
 
 The afternoon was far spent when Clarissa 
 received the following billet from Julia : 
 
 "WOODBINE HALL, 6TH MAY, 1816. 
 "Dear Coz. I m almost dead to see you, and 
 intended to have been over this evening by all 
 means; but Ma keeps me so busy that I am 
 afraid I shall not be able to get away from home 
 to-day. If I should not come to see you, be 
 sure to come and see me. 
 
 "Your affectionate cousin, JULIA." 
 
 The young ladies did not meet that day, and 
 
i 4 2 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 it was a sad day to Clarissa. The hour of rest 
 arrived, but she sought no rest until several 
 hours after; and then sought it in vain. 
 
 The next morning Julia came over, and they 
 rushed to each other s arms with an ardor un 
 common even to them. 
 
 "Oh! Julia," said Clarissa, "I m so happy to 
 see you! I have felt like an outcast from the 
 world since you left me. If you ll believe me, I 
 did not sleep one wink last night." 
 
 "Neither did I; but you ought to be punished 
 a little, Cousin Clarissa, for dropping to sleep so 
 often, and leaving me talking." 
 
 " Well so I ought, dear Julia. But don t banter 
 me now, for I am really heart-sick. I will do so 
 no more. But take off your bonnet and gloves. 
 
 "No, I can t stay to-day, coz. ; I just ran over 
 to keep you from feeling uneasy; but Ma 
 wouldn t let me come till I promised her I 
 wouldn t stay but a minute but if I can get 
 away, I ll come and spend the night with you. 
 Good-bye, coz. I ll come over this evening and 
 cheer up your spirits; but if I shouldn t come, 
 don t think hard of it, for I ll be sure to come if 
 I can." 
 
 She came agreeable to appointment, and 
 Clarissa greeted her with a sister s tenderness. 
 
THE MATCHMAKER 143 
 
 "Oh, Julia," said Clarissa, "I am rejoiced to 
 see you; from what you said I was afraid you 
 would not come." 
 
 "Why, Cousin Clarissa, am I in the habit of 
 violating my promises?" 
 
 "No, but you remember you did not promise 
 positively that you would come, and as the sun 
 went down, I began to give you up and to pre 
 pare myself for another sleepless night." 
 
 "Well, I declare! so you just wanted me to 
 put you to sleep! Now, Cousin Clarissa, that is 
 too bad. But I deserve it." 
 
 "Oh! my dear Julia, how could you put such 
 an interpretation upon my remarks? You can 
 not tell what pain it gives me," and her eyes filled. 
 
 * Pshaw, Cousin Clarissa," said Julia, "don t 
 feel hurt. I was only jesting. You know I 
 would not intentionally wound your feelings for 
 the world. Come, now, if you won t be cheerful, 
 I ll go right home." 
 
 "Well, Julia, I will be. You must not leave 
 me to-night. My heart is full, and I wish to 
 unburden it to you. I need a friend just now, 
 and you are that very friend. If I am cheerful, 
 will you be?" 
 
 "Why, yes; you know nothing makes me sad." 
 
 Things went on now as usual with the girls 
 
144 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 until bed-time except that Julia took issue with 
 Clarissa a little oftener than common, upon 
 trifling matters. 
 
 The young ladies were no sooner in bed than 
 Clarissa embraced Julia and said, " I suppose, 
 Cousin Julia, you heard what passed between 
 Cousin Osborn and myself the day before yes 
 terday?" 
 
 "No; he never breathed a word of it to me" 
 
 " Well, he will tell you, I know, for he conceals 
 nothing from you. He made a formal proposal 
 to me; but though I always esteemed him as a 
 friend, and still do, I did not feel that kind of 
 attachment to him which I thought I ought to 
 feel to the man to whom I unite myself for life; 
 and therefore I refused him. But I hope, my 
 dear Julia, this occurrence will not interrupt our 
 friendship." 
 
 "Never; it shall never make the least change 
 in my feelings, I assure you." 
 
 "Thank you, my dear Julia," said Clarissa, 
 kissing her. "I love you, Julia, as dearly as I 
 ever did more dearly now than I ever did. 
 Nor is my regard for cousin Osborn abated in 
 the least. Beg him, if you please, from me, to 
 forget what has passed, and to come and see me 
 with his usual brotherly familiarity." 
 
THE MATCHMAKER 145 
 
 "Shall I tell him, Clarissa, that you wish to 
 see him again." 
 
 "Yes; again and again, as heretofore/ 
 "Well, Clarissa, as you have broached this 
 subject, I will speak freely upon it. Now that 
 you have rejected him, you can t mistake my 
 motives. You have rejected as pure a being as 
 walks the earth one who loves you more de 
 votedly than any other ever will love you. You 
 were his first and will be his last love. Oh! 
 how happy I would have been if you could have 
 fancied him. But now it is all over. No, I fear 
 it is not all over. I know the sensibility of his 
 nature, and I shall be miserable with the fear of 
 
 his destroying himself : 
 
 "Oh! my dear Julia, don t talk that way." 
 "Yes, Clarissa; he could bear anything but 
 the loss of the object of his affections. This is 
 the thing that will ruin the peace of all of us. If 
 we lose him, we lose our father, brother, son, 
 friend, everything. Oh! think, dear Clarissa, 
 of our own Osborn our hope, our all, brought 
 home to us weltering in his gore!" here she buried 
 her face in Clarissa s bosom, and wept 
 bitterly. 
 
 "Oh! Julia," said Clarissa, as soon as she 
 could speak for she wept too "do not fear 
 
1 4 6 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 such awful consequences. I am sure Osborn 
 would not commit the dreadful sin of suicide/ 
 
 "Oh! Clarissa, you do not know what it is to 
 lose a brother, the kindest, best of brothers. 
 You do not know the agony one of his refined 
 feelings must suffer, at being discarded by the 
 only being on earth that could make him happy. 
 How often have I thought of the bliss we might 
 enjoy, if you could only fancy each other! But 
 it is all over now; and our only hope is that he 
 may be spared to us. If, Clarissa, you can do 
 anything to save him from desperation, and us 
 from grief that will carry us to the grave, pray 
 do it, will you, Clarissa?" 
 
 "Yes, Julia, with all my heart. But what 
 would you advise me to say to him? It will 
 seem strange and vain in me, to beg him not to 
 kill himself, when I don t know that he has any 
 such intention." 
 
 "Oh, I would not have you hint such a thing 
 to him by any means. But do whatever seems 
 to you best, we are all at your mercy. Oh! 
 Clarissa, how changed the scene from those 
 blissful nights which we used to spend together!" 
 
 "But, Julia, they shall not be changed." 
 
 "Do you say so, Clarissa?" 
 
 "Yes; I see no reason why they should be 
 
THE MATCHMAKER 147 
 
 changed. You are as near and dear to me as 
 ever you were and so is Osborn; and I don t 
 think you need have the least apprehension of 
 his destroying himself." 
 
 "Well, then, I will not distress myself any 
 longer. Let us dismiss the subject for to-night." 
 
 Various subjects now engaged the conversa 
 tion of the young ladies until nearly dawn, when 
 they dropped to sleep simultaneously. 
 
 Julia left the next morning soon after break 
 fast; and she had but little more than time to 
 reach home, before Osborn appeared with a 
 bright and happy countenance. 
 
 "I hope, Clarissa," said he, "from what sister 
 Julia tells me, that my case is not as desperate 
 as I thought it was." 
 
 "And did you consider it desperate, Cousin 
 Osborn?" 
 
 "Yes; perfectly hopeless." 
 
 "And what did you purpose doing?" 
 
 "Why, I had no alternative but to submit to 
 my lot, as thousands had done before me, or to 
 destroy myself; and it was not a very difficult 
 matter to choose between these alternatives." 
 
 "And you meant to destroy yourself?" 
 
 "Oh! no, I didn t. I had not the most distant 
 idea of that." 
 
i 4 8 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 "Oh! Cousin Osborn, how happy I am to hear 
 you say so. Now we shall all be happy again; 
 your mother, and Julia, and you, and I, and all 
 of us. Run and tell cousin Julia to come over 
 here, if it s but for a moment. Tell her I have 
 good news to tell her very good." 
 
 Away went Osborn, swift as the wind, to Julia. 
 
 "Why, surely brother Osborn, you come with 
 good news; so changed is your countenance!" 
 said Julia, as he entered the house. 
 
 "I believe I do," said Osborn. 
 
 "What is it?" said his mother, looking cheerily 
 over her spectacles. 
 
 "Why, I don t know exactly myself," said Os 
 born "but Clarissa sent for me this morning, 
 met me more tenderly than she ever did, and 
 told me she was going to make us all happy; 
 and desired me to tell Julia she had good news 
 for her, very good, and to bring her over imme 
 diately. So that I suppose she has changed her 
 mind." 
 
 "Well, bless the dear child," said the mother. 
 " I knew she was no quoquet; and I told Osborn 
 not to give up too soon. Fetch her over with 
 you, that I may hug her to my bosom." 
 
 Julia hurried on her bonnet, and she and Os 
 born were off in an instant. They found Clarissa 
 
THE MATCHMAKER 149 
 
 just within the door, with a smiling countenance, 
 waiting to receive them. As soon as they entered 
 the door, Julia and Clarissa embraced and kissed, 
 and embraced and kissed again. 
 
 "I hope, Clarissa," said Osborn, "you have 
 reserved at least one kiss for me." 
 
 "Yes, Cousin Osborn," said Clarissa, "I will 
 kiss you now; but mind, you must never ask me 
 to kiss you again." 
 
 "Never," said Osborn; and as she presented 
 her lips, he gave her a smack that was like tooth- 
 pulling. 
 
 "Come here, Julia," said Clarissa, taking her 
 aside, "you may quiet all your uneasiness. Os 
 born and I have talked the matter all over, 
 and - -." 
 
 "Why, if there isn t Mr. Fisher!" said Julia; 
 and she ran to him and shook his hand warmly. 
 So did Osborn, and (nearly) so did Clarissa. 
 
 All seemed happy; and a spirited conversa 
 tion ensued, followed by music of flute and 
 piano, for Fisher had brought his flute this time, 
 and he had brought with it, the best music of 
 that instrument. 
 
 About an hour had been spent in this way, 
 when a little negro boy entered the room, and 
 said, "Mass Osborn, missis say, why don t you 
 
1 50 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 and Miss Juley bring along Miss Cla sa, say, she 
 most crazy to see her." Julia bounced to the 
 servant, whispered something in his ear, and he 
 retired. 
 
 "I hope/ said Fisher, "I have not interrupted 
 a visit, Miss Clarissa." 
 
 "Oh! no," said all at once. "Ma," continued 
 Julia, "requested brother Osborn and I, when 
 we came home, to bring Miss Clarissa with us; 
 but we had not even mentioned it to Clarissa." 
 Fisher remained but a few minutes longer, and 
 rose to retire. 
 
 "Mr. Fisher," said Julia, as he was about bid 
 ding them adieu, " won t you come over this eve 
 ning to our house, and try your flute with our 
 piano?" 
 
 "Yes," said Osborn; "Mr. Fisher, come over 
 and take tea with us, if you please- we will be 
 very happy .to see you," 
 
 "I will with pleasure," said Fisher; and he re 
 tired. 
 
 "Well, I declare," said Julia, "how he im 
 proves upon acquaintance! Oh, that flute! It 
 was positively enrapturing; wasn t it, Clarissa?" 
 
 "Yes, indeed it was," said Clarissa; "and, 
 coz., take care of your heart; for if he has con 
 quered your prejudices the second visit, he ll 
 
THE MATCHMAKER i S i 
 
 have you in love with him the third, to a cer 
 tainty." 
 
 " Oh ! hush, coz." (tapping her cheek, playfully,) 
 "you know he doesn t dream of me." 
 
 "That does not prove, though, that you don t 
 dream of him. What think you, Cousin Osborn? 
 Didn t you think Julia tried to make herself very 
 agreeable to the squire this morning?" 
 
 "Yes, I think it s a case with Jule, a clean 
 gone." 
 
 11 Brother Osborn, ain t you and Cousin Clarissa 
 ashamed of yourselves? I declare I shall get 
 right angry with you, if you talk so. But 
 come, we must go over and let Ma know that 
 he is to be there to-night. And Osborn, you 
 must go and invite Miss Low, and Miss Green, 
 
 and Miss White, and . What are you 
 
 laughing at?" 
 
 "Why, sister," said Osborn, "you are cer 
 tainly picking the ugliest girls in town." 
 
 "Oh, pshaw," said Julia, laughing, "I hadn t 
 got through. Well, go and invite who you 
 please ; only don t have too many. It s too late 
 to have a large party. Cousin Clarissa, you ll 
 go over with us now, won t you? and spend the 
 day and evening both with us?" 
 
 "Yes," said Clarissa, "with pleasure, especially 
 
1 52 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 as your ma is so anxious to see me. Cousin, what 
 did that message mean?" 
 
 "Why, when Osborn came over, he mentioned 
 what you were telling me when Mr. Fisher came 
 in, and it was such a gratification to Ma that she 
 said we must bring you over, that she might take 
 you to her bosom." 
 
 " I am rejoiced that she is happy, but I do not 
 deserve the credit of it. It s due to Osborn him 
 self, alone." 
 
 "Well, we haven t time to talk about it now; 
 we ll talk it all over by-and-by. Will you dr^ss 
 now, or send over for your clothes, and dress this 
 evening?" 
 
 " Why, I believe, as I have to do a little shopping 
 this evening, I will dress for the evening at once." 
 
 "Well, I ll run over and prepare Ma, for the 
 party; and you and brother Osborn can come 
 over when you are ready." 
 
 "No, as Osborn is going to give the invita 
 tions, I insist upon his returning with you. I 
 shall detain him, perhaps, longer than he would 
 wish to be detained." 
 
 After the usual preliminaries, this was agreed on. 
 As they approached their dwelling, their mother 
 met them with some anxiety at the door, and 
 inquired where Clarissa was. 
 
THE MATCHMAKER 153 
 
 "She ll be along directly," said Julia. 
 
 "All s right, I suppose," said the old lady, in a 
 half whisper. 
 
 "All right;" returned Julia. "Clarissa put up 
 her lips to Osborn to kiss her ; which, you know, 
 she wouldn t have done for the world, if they 
 hadn t been engaged." 
 
 "Why, you don t tell me so! Well, as a gen 
 eral rule, I don t think a young lady ought to 
 allow a gentleman to kiss her, even if they re 
 engaged; but where they ve been like brother 
 and sister, and where there s been a little mis 
 understanding, I think it s well enough that they 
 should do a little something extr or nary." 
 
 "Ma, we re going to have a little party this 
 evening; Mr. Fisher is to be here, and " 
 
 " What, has he come back? " 
 
 "Oh, yes; and he s much cleverer than I 
 thought he was. You ll be pleased with him 
 when you see him; I know you will." 
 
 "Well, maybe so; but I wish he d stayed 
 away a little while longer, until we got a little 
 better fixed for company." 
 
 The old lady now began to prepare for the 
 party, with an energy befitting the occasion. 
 All things were set in order in the house, and 
 in disorder in and about the kitchen. Coffee- 
 
i 5 4 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 mills, spice-mortars, sifters and egg-beaters, struck 
 up in merry concert to quick time 
 
 "Young Fisher is coming, oh! ho, ohl ho." 
 
 The chickens took the hint, and scampered for 
 it was not yet one o clock, and even the ducks 
 and turkeys looked as if they did not consider 
 themselves safe. 
 
 In the midst of this bustle, Clarissa made her 
 appearance, and found the old lady wrist-deep 
 in dough; so that the promised hug had to be 
 postponed ; but with outstretched arms, the kind 
 matron offered a kiss, which was accepted. 
 Between those two white arms, gloved as they 
 were, oh! how sweetly Clarissa looked; and oh! 
 how sweetly did her would-be mother-in-law 
 welcome her. 
 
 Why, my daughter," said the good lady, "I 
 never saw you look so pretty before; I don t 
 wonder Osborn fell in love with you to distrac 
 tion." 
 
 Clarissa blushed, and replied "Come, Aunty, 
 that s all done with now, and nothing gratifies 
 me more than to see that you all love me still, 
 and all treat me as you used to. To have been 
 treated coldly by you all, would have almost 
 broken my heart." 
 
THE MATCHMAKER 155 
 
 "Why, God bless you, my dear child, we love 
 you more for it a great deal more; for Osborn 
 had no right to expect that you would have him. * 
 
 " Yes, he had, Aunty, as good a right to expect 
 it as any young man of good moral character, 
 good manners, and good family. But you know 
 our hearts are not always at our own disposal." 
 
 "No, my dear, I know they are not. When 
 Mr. Carp courted me, I could a got much hand 
 somer and richer young men than him; but I 
 fell in love with him, I could not tell why. But 
 don t stay here in the pantry with me, child; go 
 and hunt up Julia, or play the piano, or amuse 
 yourself any way that you like. You know you 
 are at home now." 
 
 Dinner was soon brought in and despatched; 
 and Clarissa took a ramble among the stores, 
 while Julia went to assist her mother until it was 
 time to dress for the party. 
 
 The afternoon rolled away, and with the gath 
 ering dusk, some four or five young ladies, and as 
 many gentlemen convened in the drawing-room. 
 
 Julia was dressed exactly like Clarissa, except 
 that her cape was a little more opened before 
 than Clarissa s, and the material a little thinner. 
 
 The evening passed off cheerily tea followed 
 conversation and music followed tea. Mr. Fisher 
 
i56 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 had been most attentive to Clarissa at her house, 
 he was now most attentive to Julia at her s. 
 Osborn was attentive to all by turns, but a little 
 more dilatory in passing from, than in passing 
 to, Clarissa. The girls twitted Clarissa about 
 Osborn and the young gentlemen felicitated 
 Osborn upon his late good luck. Mrs. Carp came 
 into the room but twice, the first time she found 
 Mr. Fisher and Julia in an interesting tete-a-tete, 
 and Clarissa and Osborn in a cheerful conversa 
 tion. The next time, Julia was at a rest at the 
 piano, leaning back and listening smilingly to 
 some remarks which fell (down) from Fisher s 
 lips. 
 
 The time for retiring had nearly arrived, when 
 Fisher, finding Clarissa and Julia a little apart 
 from the company, took a seat by them. 
 
 "And are all the young ladies of the village 
 engaged, Miss Gage?" said Fisher; "I should 
 judge so from report." 
 
 " I can only answer for one, sir." 
 
 "And that one the whole village answers for." 
 
 "And how does it answer?" 
 
 "Affirmatively, of course." 
 
 "Then the whole village is wrong for once at 
 .east." 
 
 " I could not expect you, Miss Gage, to admit 
 
THE MATCHMAKER 157 
 
 the truth of such a report even to a friend, much 
 less to a stranger." 
 
 " I do not know what I should do if the report 
 were true; but I have no scruples in denying it, 
 since the report is not true." 
 
 This was said with a little spice of seriousness; 
 more than the occasion called for. 
 
 " Well,really," said Julia, " Mr. Fisher, I thought 
 you could manage a case better than that ; to ask 
 a lady about her engagements before company!" 
 
 "Miss Gage will acquit me, I m sure, of having 
 instituted any inquiry personal to herself." 
 
 "Certainly I will. I led tjie conversation to 
 myself, I know; but how, exactly, I disremem- 
 ber. Of one thing, however, I m very sure, and 
 that is, that I gave it a very unguarded direction." 
 
 " It grew very naturally out of my question, 
 Miss Gage. Indeed, now I think of it, though 
 I did not before, you could hardly have given it 
 any other direction without tacitly admitting 
 your own engagement." 
 
 "You lawyers are very ready," said Julia, "at 
 smoothing things over, but you are not smart 
 enough to find out a young lady s engagements, 
 I ll warrant you." 
 
 Here the conversation was interrupted by a 
 call upon Fisher for a solo on the flute. He rose, 
 
i 5 8 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 took his seat by the lady who made the call, and 
 complied with the request. 
 
 "Julia," said Clarissa, "you ought not to have 
 talked as you did to Mr. Fisher; you will lead 
 him to believe I am engaged, sure enough." 
 
 "Well, coz., I wouldn t have said anything, if 
 you hadn t denied it so positively. I thought, 
 then, that you ought to be teased a little." 
 
 "Well, Julia, you know that I am not." 
 
 "Why, Clarissa, are you in earnest?" 
 
 "Surely I am. Are you in earnest in seeming 
 to think I am engaged?" 
 
 "Yes, Clarissa; but pray don t let s talk any 
 more about it now." 
 
 The conversation had by this time assumed an 
 interest that was visible to several eyes, though 
 it was heard by no ears but those to which it was 
 addressed. 
 
 Julia rose, sauntered about listlessly for a 
 moment, and said to Osborn, "Come, you ve 
 talked long enough to Miss White I wish to 
 talk to her some myself; so give me your seat." 
 
 Osborn rose and seated himself by Clarissa. 
 "You seem to be losing your spirits, Cousin 
 Clarissa," said he. 
 
 "Yes, Osborn," said she, "I am uneasy, I fear 
 there has been some misunderstanding; I cannot 
 
THE MATCHMAKER 159 
 
 tell how. Julia this moment told me in confi 
 dence and seriously, she thought I was engaged. 
 What does she mean?" 
 
 "And do you not consider yourself engaged, 
 Miss Clarissa?" said Osborn. 
 
 "Why, no, who to? What can have started 
 such an idea? I thought that there was some 
 thing but tell me how did such an idea get 
 afloat?" 
 
 "I ll explain it all, Clarissa, to-morrow." 
 
 "Pray see me home, Osborn," and she rose. 
 
 During this interview, Julia, with her eyes 
 fixed upon the parties, was carrying on a very 
 dry and scattered conversation with Miss White, 
 for one who had usurped a seat for the purpose 
 of entertaining her; so that as soon as Clarissa 
 rose, she followed her example, and all the rest 
 did the like. Julia pressed Clarissa to stay all 
 night with the usual forms, but not the usual 
 feeling. The entreaty was urged long enough, 
 however, to throw Clarissa in the rear of the 
 retiring company. Mrs. Carp met her at the door, 
 "Why, you re not going home to-night! you 
 mustn t, I ve a heap of things to say to 
 you." 
 
 "You must excuse me this evening, Aunty, I 
 must go home. Come, Cousin Osborn." 
 
160 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 "Bless her heart," said the old lady kindly, as 
 they left, "it s only for the walk with her dear 
 Osy that she must go home." 
 
 "No, it isn t, Ma," said Julia, "it s all blown 
 up. I heard her telling Mr. Fisher most solemnly 
 that she was not engaged; and I felt so out of 
 patience with her, that I gave Mr. Fisher a little 
 hint that she was. And do you think she didn t 
 face me down that she was not engaged? and 
 expressed as much astonishment as if she d never 
 seen brother Osborn. Brother Osborn went and 
 sat down by her, and they soon got in a warm 
 conversation; I don t know what they said, but 
 they were very much excited, and Clarissa rose 
 right out of it to go home." 
 
 "Didn t I tell you so? I knew that just as 
 sure as that jacklegg d lawyer came here, there d 
 be a fuss. I saw, when he was here before, she 
 was pleased with him." 
 
 " Ma, he s not to blame, he didn t ask her any 
 thing about her engagements, as she said her 
 self. She just up and told that barefaced story 
 without being asked about it. She might just 
 as well have courted Mr. Fisher outright. I was 
 ashamed of her." 
 
 "Well, let s not be too hasty; we ll hear what 
 Osborn says, and if she is such a hypocrite 
 
THE MATCHMAKER 161 
 
 quoquet, I ll give her a piece of my mind, if King 
 George was her father." 
 
 As soon as Clarissa and Osborn had cleared 
 the door, "Pray tell me," said she, "what means 
 the strange idea that you and Julia have taken 
 up?" 
 
 "Why, when you sent for me this morning " 
 
 "I didn t send for you." 
 
 "Why, Julia said you did, and that you d be 
 happy to see me again and again, as she ex 
 pressed it." 
 
 "Well, I did tell her so, but I meant and said, 
 as a friend and old acquaintance. I requested 
 her to tell you, not to let what had passed de 
 stroy our friendship; and when you came, and 
 came with such a cheerful countenance, I thought 
 you had forgotten the past." 
 
 " Well, certainly, Miss Clarissa, you treated me 
 very differently from what you had ever done 
 before." 
 
 " Not till you told me you had no idea of killing 
 yourself did I?" 
 
 "Killing myself!" 
 
 "Yes; don t you remember it was then, and 
 not before, that I expressed so much delight?" 
 
 " I believe it was at that time; but surely you 
 did not suppose that I was going to kill myself?" 
 11 
 
i6 2 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 "Yes, I did; and your mother thought so, and 
 your sister thought so 
 
 "Thought that I was going to kill myself?" 
 
 "Yes; and when I heard from your own*lips, 
 that you had no thought of such a thing, I sent 
 off immediately to Julia, to quiet her alarms- 
 Here they reached the door, and Osborn bid 
 Clarissa good-night. 
 
 "No, Osborn, come in, late as it is, and let this 
 whole matter be explained before we part." 
 
 "Not to-night, Miss Clarissa. It s too late; 
 besides, I am very well satisfied with your explana 
 tion." 
 
 Clarissa retired to her room, and wept through 
 the night. Osborn went home, and his coun 
 tenance verified what Julia had said. 
 
 "And what does she say for herself?" inquired 
 the old lady. 
 
 " Why, she says all her kind favors to me was 
 to keep me from killing myself." 
 
 "From killing yourself!" said the old lady, 
 with a hiccup laugh, and a look of fire. "She 
 must think herself the Empire (Emperor) of 
 France, surely, to kill who she pleases." 
 
 " Why, she says that you and Julia both thought 
 I was going to kill myself 
 
 "Oh! the thing s run crazy, that s a clear case. 
 
THE MATCHMAKER 
 
 That lawyer s run her clear distracted. Why I 
 had no more idea of your killing yourself, than 
 I had of your killing me; not a bit, and how the 
 girl could hatch up such a barefaced lie, I can t 
 tell." 
 
 "Julia, she says she didn t tell you to ask me 
 over there this morning." 
 
 " Why, brother Osborn, she surely doesn t have 
 the impudence to say that!" 
 
 "Yes, she does. She says she begged you to 
 tell me not to let what had passed destroy our 
 friendship; but to come and see her as I had 
 done before; and I m afraid, Julia, that all this 
 matter has grown out of your imprudence." 
 
 "Oh! brother Osborn, how can you think so 
 badly of me! Oh! Clarissa, who could have be 
 lieved all this of you!" and here Julia buried her 
 face in her handkerchief, and wept piteously. 
 
 " I don t see what you want to blame Julia for," 
 said the old lady. " If she ll tell lies on me, she ll 
 tell lies on her. Tell me this, did she kiss you?" 
 
 "Oh, yes; but that was for joy that I didn t 
 blow my brains out." 
 
 "And didn t she treat you with more attention 
 than ever before?" 
 
 "Yes; but that was because I didn t cut my 
 throat." 
 
164 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 "And didn t she, standing right there, in that 
 pantry door, while I was kneading the jumbles 
 with these very hands didn t she come up and 
 kiss me, and as much as tell me over and over 
 again that you and she were engaged? And 
 when I wondered at her having you, she said 
 girls hearts were not their own; and that you 
 had as good a right to expect her to have you, as 
 any young man, because you had a good char 
 acter and good manners, and was of good family; 
 and I b lieve she said, because you were hand 
 some too, but I won t be sure of that." 
 
 11 If that s all so, I don t see what that had to 
 do with my killing myself." 
 
 "If that s all so! why I ll be sworn upon a 
 stack of bibles as big as all Colonel Fielder s 
 fodder stacks put together, that it s every word 
 true. True ! why, come here, here wasn t she 
 standing right here, with one foot on this little 
 stool, just so as I m standing now when she 
 told me every word of it? Let her come to my 
 face, and deny it, if she dare. If she chooses to 
 fling you away for gadabout lawyers 
 
 "Oh! mother," said Julia, plaintively, "don t 
 talk so." 
 
 " why let her do it, and say so; but not 
 
 be telling a pack of lies upon us all, and making 
 
THE MATCHMAKER 165 
 
 fools of us. I wouldn t put up with it, if she was 
 as rich as Creasy. Humph, you may laugh at 
 it, but to me it s no laughing matter. I think 
 myself as good as she is, if she has got a few 
 stumps o .niggers, and river low grounds. Ivf /v>) 
 reckon I know her breed, from drunken Bill \ 
 down to gambling Ned. Her father was the best 
 of the tribe, and her mother, after all her kick- 
 ups, hardly let his head get cold before she mar 
 ried a gadabout preacher." 
 
 "Well, well, mother, talking won t mend mat 
 ters. I m no worse off than I was yesterday 
 and I give you my word and honor I shall not 
 kill myself about it. Good night." 
 
 "Julia, call Betty to put away these tea things." 
 
 Betty was called, and in she bounced with the 
 family face of the morning. 
 
 "Missis," says she, "they say Mas Osborn s 
 gwine to marry Miss Clar sa; is it so?" 
 
 "You impudent huzzy, if you don t put away 
 these things and get out of this house, I ll marry 
 you. What s it to you who Mas Osborn mar 
 ries! And as to Miss Clar sa, as you call her, she 
 may marry the Old Nick for what I care, and all 
 his imps with him." 
 
 "Emph, emph," muttered Betty, and she des 
 patched the tea-things in short order. 
 
1 66 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 The next morning the village was in an uproar. 
 A thousand reports were afloat, which agreed in 
 but two things: first, that the match between 
 Cteborn and Clarissa had been broken off;, and 
 secondly, that Fisher was the cause of it. This 
 had been seen at the party by several; and 
 therefore there was no disputing it. The conse 
 quence was that Clarissa was loudly censured 
 by all but Mr. and Mrs. Bacon and two or three 
 young gentlemen. Mrs. Bacon said, that as soon 
 as Mr. Fisher stopped at her house, instead of 
 going to Mrs. Bull s, she knew some story would 
 be trumped up against him. " It wasn t enough 
 to get all the lawyers that came to court there, 
 but she must get all the strange lawyers too. 
 For her part, she didn t believe Miss Clarissa ever 
 had any notion of Osborn. If she had, she 
 might have had him long ago, for he d been ding- 
 donging at her, ever since she came from school, 
 with his mother and sister to help him; and if 
 they couldn t make it out before, she didn t 
 know how they d made out so much all of a sud 
 den. It was all over town that she had given 
 him a walking-ticket, till Mrs. Bull came down 
 yesterday with the story that they were engaged 
 and going to be married right away. She could 
 see how they worked things, as quick as most 
 
THE MATCHMAKER 167 
 
 people; and when the truth came out, it would 
 be found out that Jule Carp was hankering after 
 Squire Fisher herself, and fell out with Clarissa 
 because she saw he liked her best. Sally Green 
 told me about her capers at the party; and how 
 mighty clever she was, till the squire took a seat by 
 Clarissa. Don t tell me ! white folks is mighty un- 
 sartin, I tell you specially in their sparking days. " 
 
 We may not follow all the reports; suffice it 
 to say, that Mrs. Carp and Miss Julia took the 
 grand rounds the next morning to return long 
 neglected calls, and to see how all the young 
 ladies did after the party. Their conversation 
 at every call was much the same, so that the fol 
 lowing, at Mrs. Green s, will give the reader a 
 pretty accurate idea of all of them. 
 
 MRS. GREEN Good morning, good morning, 
 Mrs. Carp! How-d y , Julia? I am very glad 
 to see you. Take off your bonnets and shawls, 
 and stay all day. 
 
 MRS. CARP We can t stay but a few minutes; 
 we have several calls to make. How is Sally this 
 morning ? 
 
 MRS. GREEN She is very well she has just 
 stepped out, but I hope she ll soon return. She 
 says it was the most agreeable little party she 
 has been at for many a day. 
 
1 68 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 MRS. CARP The young people seemed to enjoy 
 themselves very much. 
 
 MRS. GREEN Sally says, Julia, that you 
 played the world with Mr. Fisher s heart, that 
 he was all attention to you. 
 
 JULIA Oh, dear! Mr. Fisher s Clarissa s beau, 
 you know. 
 
 MRS. GREEN Oh! no; Osborn is her beau, 
 everybody knows. I wouldn t have mentioned 
 it, if it hadn t been town talk; but report says 
 they re to be married right away, and a good 
 many thought they would have got married at 
 your house last night. 
 
 JULIA Oh! no, they are not even engaged; 
 for I heard Clarissa tell Mr. Fisher so over and 
 over again last night. 
 
 MRS. GREEN Heard her tell Mr. Fisher so! 
 
 JULIA Yes, and that without his asking; he, 
 he, he! 
 
 MRS. GREEN Oh! Julia, child, you must be 
 joking ! 
 
 JULIA Indeed I am not. Do you ask Mr. 
 Fisher if it isn t so. 
 
 MRS. GREEN Why it s the beat of anything I 
 ever heard in all my life! 
 
 MRS. CARP Oh! Julia, you needn t be mealy- 
 mouthed about it. Tell the whole story at 
 
THE MATCHMAKER 169 
 
 once. This was the way of it, Mrs. Green: 
 Clarissa and Osborn were engaged, and she made 
 no secret of it. She sent for Julia, told her it 
 was settled, kissed Osborn 
 
 MRS. GREEN What! ! 
 
 MRS. CARP It s as true as you set there. I ll 
 never budge out of this seat, if it ain t 
 
 JULIA But Ma, you ought to remember, 
 Clarissa said that she only did that to keep brother 
 Osborn from killing himself, not from love he, 
 he, he! 
 
 MRS. GREEN What! Why what did she 
 think he was going to kill himself for? 
 
 JULIA Oh! for love of her, of course. But 
 I ve no doubt Clarissa thought so; for I can t 
 think she would have said it, if she hadn t; but 
 wasn t it a strange notion, Mrs. Green? 
 
 MRS. GREEN Strange? why I wouldn t be 
 lieve it if all the men in Georgia were to say so. 
 
 MRS. CARP Now, Julia, you needn t go to 
 making apologies for Clarissa. I know you never 
 can think she does wrong or thinks wrong; but 
 nobody 11 believe you; so you d as well stop 
 your excuses, and considering it s your own 
 brother, I don t think it s any credit to you. 
 
 JULIA Well, Ma, I cannot help loving Clarissa, 
 no matter how she treats me. 
 
1 70 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 MRS. CARP Well, as I was saying, after all 
 their hugging and kissing, and her telling Osborn 
 she was so happy, and how happy all of us was 
 to be, over she comes to my house, and ups and 
 tells me all about how she came to take him, be 
 cause he was all this and all that. Well, that 
 very evening she sticks herself down by Mr. 
 Fisher - 
 
 JULIA No, Ma, he took a seat by her; she did 
 not go to him. Do Clarissa justice. 
 
 MRS. CARP Well, it s the same thing. As soon 
 as Fisher sat down by her, "Mr. Fisher," says 
 she, "everybody says I m engaged to be married, 
 but it s not so - -" 
 
 JULIA Oh ! no, Ma 
 
 MRS. CARP Why, I ll be shot if you didn t tell 
 me so yourself. 
 
 JULIA No, Ma, I said with the -first question 
 he asked her, she began to say she was not 
 engaged. 
 
 MRS. CARP Well, did he ask her if she was 
 engaged tell me that? 
 
 JULIA No, he made no allusion to her. 
 
 MRS. CARP And wasn t the first word she said, 
 that she wasn t engaged? 
 
 JULIA Oh, yes; and she repeated it several 
 times, but 
 
THE MATCHMAKER 171 
 
 MRS. CARP But what? Now, I wonder how 
 much you ve bettered it? 
 
 MRS. GREEN Why, Julia, how could you, who 
 knew all about it, set by and hear her run on so? 
 
 JULIA Clarissa has been a dear friend of mine, 
 Mrs. Green, as everybody knows; and besides it 
 was my own house. I did at last venture to say 
 to Mr. Fisher, that he wasn t lawyer enough to 
 find out a lady s engagement; and oh, me! she 
 flew in such a passion, you can t think! I got 
 scared, and got away as quick as I could. 
 
 MRS. CARP Had you heard anything about it? 
 
 MRS. GREEN Sally told me she saw that some 
 thing was the matter with you and Clarissa, just 
 at the breaking up of the party; but she didn t 
 know what it was. 
 
 The visitors retired, and they had left the 
 house but a few minutes before Sally entered. 
 
 "Well," said her mother, "Mrs. Carp and 
 Julia have been here, and told the whole story 
 about Osborn and Clarissa, and I don t suppose 
 such a pack of barefaced falsehoods was ever 
 told upon any poor girl since the world was 
 made. They make out she was kissing Osborn 
 all day before the party, and that she said she 
 only kissed him to keep him from killing himself 
 for love of her, that she came over to Mrs. Carp s 
 
1 72 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 bragging about getting Osborn, and how happy 
 all were, and then as soon as she got into the 
 party, she bounced up and ran and popp d her 
 self in a seat by Mr. Fisher, and began to gabble 
 out, Mr. Fisher, I a n t engaged; Mr. Fisher, / 
 a n t engaged and then got in a furious passion 
 at Julia for saying lawyers knew no more about 
 girls engagements than other people. I don t 
 believe one word of it. Clarissa Gage would put 
 her head in the fire before she d take on at 
 these tricks. The story belies itself from A 
 to Z." 
 
 Sally s eyes opened wider and wider at every 
 word of the narrative, and when it was concluded 
 
 she exclaimed, " Why, Ma, it s as big a no 
 
 such-a-thing as ever was told. I saw it all, and 
 there a n t a word of truth in it. It was just pre 
 cisely as I told you it was." 
 
 In three days time, all the old ladies of the 
 village had talked the matter over, and every 
 one told "how she heard it." No two had heard 
 it exactly alike ; but as they all agreed in the essen 
 tials, the prevailing opinion was that Clarissa was 
 much to blame. The young ladies were pretty 
 equally divided. The young gentlemen (a majority 
 of them, that is) considered nobody to blame but 
 Fisher. While the old gentlemen thought the 
 
THE MATCHMAKER 173 
 
 whole town to blame, for making such a fuss 
 about young people s love scrapes. 
 
 All the stories soon got to Mrs. Dove s ears, 
 and she resolved to have the matter rectified. 
 So she set out upon the grand rounds, beginning 
 with Mrs. Bacon. After a salutation and a few 
 preliminaries "Now," said she, "Mrs. Bacon, I 
 never intended to have said anything about this 
 matter, but so many abominable falsehoods have 
 been hatched up about my daughter " 
 
 " God bless your soul, honey, I never believed 
 one word of them, from the first, everybody will 
 tell you so. I haven t two eyes and two ears for 
 nothing." 
 
 " I know you did not believe them I heard 
 that ; and I thank you for taking our part as you 
 did. The truth is, the Carps have been trying 
 in all ways, for two years, to make a match be 
 tween Osborn and Clarissa " 
 
 "There! there! what did I tell Sally Green and 
 her mother, and my old man! Now the cat s 
 out of the wallet. Now I hope people 11 be 
 lieve me." 
 
 "Osborn is a clever young man enough, and 
 Clarissa liked him as a friend, but never would let 
 him court her - 
 
 "Ah! honey, Osborn seems mighty clever, and 
 
i74 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 all that; but you better not trust any of em too 
 far, I tell you. I don t like the blood. That 
 Carp blood won t do now, I tell you." 
 
 "Well, Osborn always behaved himself very 
 clever to us. At last he proposed himself to 
 Clarissa, in spite of all she could do." 
 
 " Proposed himself against her consent! What 
 impudence? Didn t I tell you he wouldn t do?" 
 
 "Clarissa refused him then plainly and flatly. 
 A night or two after, Julia comes over, and tells 
 Clarissa that Osborn was going to kill him 
 self." 
 
 "And did she think Clarissa was fool enough to 
 believe that?" 
 
 "Oh, bless you, any one would have believed 
 her, the way she went on. She cried " 
 
 "Oh! did she cry?" 
 
 "Cry, yes; as if her heart would break!" 
 
 "Oh! that indeed! That alters the case. If 
 she took on at that rate, I don t wonder at 
 Clarissa s believing her. I thought she just told 
 it in a plain sort of way." 
 
 "No, she wept and sobbed, and told what dis 
 tress her mother was in; and said that they 
 knew his disposition better than any body in the 
 world, and that they looked for nothing else but 
 that he would be brought home all weltering in 
 
THE MATCHMAKER 175 
 
 his gore, until she frightened Clarissa, poor child, 
 almost out of her senses." 
 
 "Well, it bangs anything that ever I heard of 
 in all my livelong born days. Why, she ought 
 to be penetensh d." 
 
 "She begged Clarissa to see Osborn, and try 
 to get him not to kill himself. She said, as 
 for her refusing Osborn, she didn t mind 
 that " 
 
 "And that was a whopper, I know." 
 
 "Clarissa begged her not to suffer her refusal 
 of Osborn to interrupt their friendship; for the 
 idea of their getting angry with her distressed 
 very much " 
 
 " Poor child, if she knew them as well as I do, 
 she d a thought it good riddance " 
 
 "Julia gave her to understand, that if Osborn s 
 life could be saved, all would be happy. Well, 
 she goes home and tells Osborn Clarissa wanted 
 to see him " 
 
 "What a lie!" 
 
 "So he comes in a mighty good humor, of 
 
 course 
 
 "No doubt of that." 
 
 - as he supposed she had changed her 
 mind. Clarissa was surprised and pleased to 
 see him look so little like killing himself, and met 
 
i;6 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 him very cheerfully. After hinting at what she 
 had heard, she asked him if he had any idea of 
 destroying himself. And he said such an idea 
 never entered his head - 
 
 "There we have it; the Carps over again. 
 Mother and sister lie, and brother catch em in it. 
 
 "Well, Clarissa was so delighted to hear that, 
 and to think that they would all be friends now 
 as before, that she sends off Osborn for Julia, to 
 tell her she needn t be afraid of his killing him 
 self; and said to Osborn that all would now be 
 happy." 
 
 " Just to tease him? He deserved it, a chuckle- 
 head!" 
 
 " No, not to tease him ; but because she thought 
 it would please them all so much, to know that 
 he was not going to destroy himself; and she 
 would be happy, because now all would be 
 friends." 
 
 "Oh! ah! yes. That was all right!" 
 
 "Osborn thought that this was because she 
 had changed her mind " 
 
 "What a fool!" 
 
 " and that she was going to make them all 
 
 happy by marrying him 
 
 "I declare! Marry him! A pretty story." 
 
 "Well, I suppose Osborn told em so when he 
 
THE MATCHMAKER 177 
 
 went home for Julia; for she came over in the 
 finest humor in the world " 
 
 "Til be bound." 
 
 "The girls met, both pleased, and they em 
 braced as they used to do. Clarissa took Julia 
 one side, to tell her she needn t be alarmed about 
 Osborn s killing himself; and just as she began, 
 Mr. Fisher came " 
 
 " I know him mighty well. He stays with 
 me and he s the cleverest lawyer and the clever 
 est man I ever saw." 
 
 "Clarissa never had an opportunity of saying 
 any more before the party." 
 
 "And all this rigmarole they ve been telling, 
 about Clarissa kissing Osborn, turns out just as 
 I expected, to be a pack o lies." 
 
 "Why yes, as they tell it, it is not true. 
 The way of it was this: when she kissed Julia, 
 Osborn said he hoped she had a kiss for him. 
 Clarissa said yes, she would now give him one 
 kiss if he would never ask her for another 
 meaning that, as he had resolved not to take it 
 to heart that she had refused him, but meant to 
 be a friend as before, and had relieved all from 
 fear, she would kiss him once." 
 
 "Oh! that was the way of it! I don t blame 
 her at all for that." 
 
 12 
 
1 78 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 "I wish Clarissa had not done it; but in a 
 thoughtless moment of delight she did it; and 
 didn t suppose that it would ever be thought of 
 again." 
 
 "Why, it was perfectly right in the way she 
 did it. The thing coming upon her unexpected, 
 and she not thinking, and taken unawares, and 
 just kissing his sister, and he standing there, and 
 all in a good humor, and in a frolic! 1 don t 
 wonder at it at all. Any girl in the world would 
 a* done the same thing." 
 
 "Well, to go on with my story. It happened 
 that while Osborn and Julia were at her house, 
 Mrs. Bull went over to Mrs. Carp s " 
 
 "There! there! what did I tell my old man! 
 Do stop a moment, Mrs. Dove, and let me bring 
 him in to hear it with his own ears; for he never 
 will believe what I say." 
 
 "Never mind, Mrs. Bacon; it s not of much 
 importance. Mrs. Carp, I suppose, told Mrs. 
 Bull that Osborn and Clarissa were engaged ; and 
 Mrs. Bull told it to I don t know how many " 
 
 " Why, bless your soul, honey, she made a blow 
 ing horn of it. She told it at dinner, I reckon, 
 for it was all over town before night. Mr. Fisher 
 told me just before he started to the party; and" 
 (lowering her voice) "he looked mighty sorry 
 
THE MATCHMAKER 179 
 
 about it too, I tell you. But I told him as I told 
 my old man, that it was nothing but a Bull tale, 
 and they d see it. The Bull boarders want to 
 drive him off, that s the chat; for they ve no 
 notion of the way the gals look at him. I stay 
 at home here and mind my own business, but 
 I ve got two eyes for all that, and two ears, 
 too." 
 
 "Mrs. Bull told at least enough to make it 
 common talk at the party. For a long time 
 Clarissa thought nothing of it ; but at last, think 
 ing over all the day s doings, and the conduct of 
 all the Carps to her, it flashed upon her mind that 
 it might have grown out of what had passed be 
 tween her and Osborn that day. She thought 
 she saw something in Julia s conduct to Mr. 
 Fisher " 
 
 " Now you re coming to it. Now you begin to 
 hit the nail right spang upon the head. Sally 
 Green saw it Sally saw how the Carp was nib 
 bling at that fishing-hook, but he wouldn t jerk." 
 
 "Clarissa saw, or thought she saw, that Julia 
 was encouraging the report; and as Mr. Fisher 
 gave her a fair opportunity of denying it, she did 
 so. Julia intimated that it was true, and this 
 led to an explanation." 
 
 " Well, it s all turned out just as I said it would. 
 
i8o STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 Now, I hope people will see what the Bulls and 
 Carps are." 
 
 This story was no sooner circulated than it 
 gained a large majority of all ages and sexes to 
 the Dove side. 
 
 Fisher courted Clarissa and married her. 
 Eighteen months afterwards, Julia married a Dr. 
 John Smith, who had recently settled in the vil 
 lage; and about a year after that, Osborn mar 
 ried a fine girl of a neighboring village and all 
 lived as happily as married people usually live. 
 
VIII. 
 "A CHARMING WIFE." 
 
 My nephew George Baldwin was but ten years 
 younger than myself. He was the son of a plain, 
 practical, sensible farmer, who, without the ad 
 vantages of a liberal education, had enriched his 
 mind by study and observation with a fund of 
 useful knowledge rarely possessed by those who 
 move in his sphere of life. His wife was one of 
 the most lovely of women. She was pious, but 
 not austere; cheerful, but not light; generous, 
 but not prodigal; economical, but not close; hos 
 pitable, but not extravagant. In native powers 
 of mind she was every way my brother s equal; 
 in acquirements she was decidedly his superior. 
 To this I have his testimony as well as my own; 
 but it was impossible to. discover in her conduct 
 anything going to show that she coincided with 
 us in opinion. To have heard her converse you 
 would have supposed she did nothing but read; 
 to have looked through the departments of her 
 household you would have supposed she never 
 read. Everything which lay within her little 
 province bore the impress of her hand or ac- 
 
 (181) 
 
1 82 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 knowledged her supervision. Order, neatness, 
 and jcleanliness prevailed everywhere. All pro 
 visions were given out with her own hands, and 
 she could tell precisely the quantity of each arti 
 cle that it would require to serve a given number 
 of persons, without stint or wasteful profusion. 
 In the statistics of domestic economy she was 
 perfectly versed. She would tell you, with aston 
 ishing accuracy, how many pounds of cured ba 
 con you might expect from a given weight of 
 fresh pork; how many quarts of cream a given 
 quantity of milk would yield; how much butter 
 so much cream; how much of each article it 
 would take to serve so many persons a month or 
 a year. Supposing no change in the family, and 
 she would tell to a day when a given quantity of 
 provisions of any kind would be exhausted. She 
 reduced to certain knowledge everything that 
 could be; and she approximated to it as nearly 
 as possible with those matters that could not be. 
 And yet she scolded less and whipped less than 
 any mistress of a family I ever saw. The reason 
 is obvious. Everything under her care went on 
 with perfect system. To each servant were allot 
 ted his or her respective duties, and to each was 
 assigned the time in which those duties were to 
 be performed. During this time she suffered 
 
"A CHARMING WIFE" 183 
 
 them not to be interrupted, if it was possible to 
 protect them from interruption. Her children 
 were permitted to give no orders to servants but 
 through her, until they reached the age at which 
 they were capable of regulating their orders by 
 her rules. She laid no plans to detect her ser 
 vants in theft, but she took great pains to con 
 vince them that they could not pilfer without 
 detection; and this did she without betraying 
 any suspicions of their integrity. Thus she would 
 have her biscuits uniformly of a size, and, under 
 the form of instructions to her cook, she would 
 show her precisely the quantity of flour which it 
 took to make so many biscuits. After all this, 
 she exposed her servants to as few temptations as 
 possible. She never sent them to the larder un 
 attended, if she could avoid it, and never placed 
 them under the watch of children. She saw 
 that they were well provided with everything 
 they needed, and she indulged them in recrea 
 tions when she could. No service was required 
 of them on the Sabbath further than to spread 
 the table and to attend it; a service which was 
 lightened as much as possible by having the pro 
 visions of that day very simple, and prepared the 
 day before. 
 
 Such, but half described, were the father and 
 
i8 4 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 mother of George Baldwin. He was their only 
 son and eldest child ; but he had two sisters, Mary 
 and Martha, the first four and the second six years 
 younger than himself a son next to George 
 having died in infancy. The two eldest children 
 inherited their names from their parents, and all 
 of them grew up worthy of the stock from which 
 they sprang. 
 
 George, having completed his education at 
 Princeton, where he was graduated with great 
 honor to himself, returned to Georgia and com 
 menced the study of the law. After studying a 
 year he was admitted to the bar, just after he 
 had completed his one-and-twentieth year. I 
 have been told by gentlemen who belong to this 
 profession that one year is too short a time for 
 preparation for the intricacies of legal lore; and 
 it may be so, but I never knew a young man 
 acquit himself more creditably than George did 
 in his maiden speech. 
 
 He located himself in the city of , seventy 
 
 miles from his father s residence; and, after the 
 lapse of three years, he counted up eight hundred 
 dollars as the net profits of his last year s prac 
 tice. Reasonably calculating that his receipts 
 would annually increase for several years to 
 come, having no expenses to encounter except 
 
"A CHARMING WIFE" 185 
 
 for his board and clothing (for his father had 
 furnished him with a complete library), he now 
 thought of taking to himself a helpmate. Hith 
 erto he had led a very retired, studious life; but 
 now he began to court the society of ladies. 
 
 About this time Miss Evelina Caroline Smith 
 returned to the city from Philadelphia, where, 
 after an absence of three years, she had com 
 pleted her education. She was the only child of 
 a wealthy, unlettered merchant, who, rather by 
 good luck than good management, had amassed 
 a fortune of about fifty thousand dollars. Mr. 
 Smith was one of those men who conceived that 
 all earthly greatness, and consequently all earthly 
 bliss, concentred in wealth. The consequence 
 was inevitable. To the poor he was haughty, 
 supercilious, and arrogant, and, not unfrequently, 
 wantonly insolent; to the rich he was friendly, 
 kind, or obsequious, as their purses equalled or 
 overmeasured his own. His wife was even below 
 himself in moral stature ; proud, loquacious, silly. 
 Evelina was endowed by nature with a good mind, 
 and, what her parents esteemed of infinitely 
 more value, she was beautiful from her infancy 
 to the time when I introduced her to the reader, 
 which was just after she had completed her 
 seventeenth year. Evelina s time, between her 
 
i86 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 " sixth and fourteenth year, had been chiefly em 
 ployed in learning from her father and mother 
 what a perfect beauty she was, and what kind 
 of gewgaws exhibited her beauty to the greatest 
 advantage, how rich she would be, and "what 
 havoc she would make of young men s hearts 
 by-and-by. " In these instructive lectures her 
 parents sometimes found gratuitous help from 
 silly male and female visitors, who, purely to win 
 favor from the parents, would expatiate on the 
 perfection of "the lovely," "charming/ "beauti 
 ful little creature" in her presence. The conse 
 quence was that pride and vanity became, at an 
 early age, the leading traits of the child s char 
 acter, and admiration and flattery the only food 
 which she could relish. Her parents subjected 
 themselves to the loss of her society for three 
 years, while she was at school in Philadelphia, 
 from no better motive than to put her on an 
 equality with Mr. B. s and Mr. C. s daughters; 
 or, rather, to imitate the examples of Messrs. 
 B. & C., merchants of the same city, who were 
 very rich. 
 
 While she was in Philadelphia Evelina was 
 well instructed. She was taught in what female 
 loveliness truly consists, the qualities which de 
 servedly command the respect of the wise and 
 
"A CHARMING WIFE" 187 
 
 good, and the deportment which insures to a fe 
 male the admiration of all. But Evelina s mind 
 had received a bias from which these lessons could 
 not relieve it, and the only^ effect of them upon 
 her was to make her an accomplished hypocrite, 
 with all her other foibles. She improved her in 
 structions only to the gratification of her ruling 
 passion. In music she made some proficiency, 
 because she saw in it a ready means of gaining 
 admiration. 
 
 George Baldwin had formed a partial acquaint 
 ance with Mr. Smith before the return of his 
 daughter, but he rather shunned than courted a 
 closer intimacy. Smith, however, had intrusted 
 George with some professional business, found 
 him trustworthy, and thought he saw in him a 
 man who, at no very distant day, was to become 
 distinguished for both wealth and talents; and, 
 upon a very short acquaintance, he took occasion 
 to tell him "that whoever married his daughter 
 should receive the next day a check for twenty 
 thousand dollars. That ll do," continued he, 
 "to start upon; and when I and the old woman 
 drop off she will get thirty more." This had 
 an effect upon George directly opposite to that 
 which it was designed to have. 
 
 Miss Smith had been at home about three 
 
1 88 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 weeks, and the whole town had sounded the 
 praises of her beauty and accomplishments; but 
 George had not seen her, though Mr. Smith 
 had in the meantime given him several notes 
 to collect, with each of which he "wondered 
 how it happened that two so much alike as him 
 self and George had never been more intimate, 
 and hoped he would come over in a sociable way 
 and see him often." About this time, however, 
 George received a special invitation to a large 
 tea-party from Mr. and Mrs. Smith, which he 
 could not with propriety reject, and accordingly 
 he went. He was received at the door by Mr. 
 Smith, announced upon entering the drawing- 
 room, and conducted through a crowd of gen 
 tlemen to Miss Smith, to whom he was intro 
 duced with peculiar emphasis. He made his 
 obeisance and retired; for common politeness 
 required him to bestow his attentions upon some 
 of the many ladies in the room, who were neg 
 lected by the gentlemen in their rivalship for a 
 smile or word from Miss Evelina. She was the 
 admiration of all the gentlemen, and, with the 
 exception of two or three young ladies, who 
 "thought her too affected," she was praised by 
 all the ladies. In short, by nearly universal testi 
 mony she was pronounced " a charming creature. " 
 
"A CHARMING WIFE" 189 
 
 An hour had elapsed before George found an 
 opportunity of giving her those attentions which, 
 as a guest of the family, courtesy required from 
 him. The opportunity was at length, however, 
 furnished by himself. In circling round the 
 room to entertain the company, she reached 
 George just as the seat next to him had been 
 vacated. This she occupied, and a conversation 
 ensued, with every word of which she gained 
 upon his respect and esteem. Instead of find 
 ing her that gay, volatile, vain creature whom 
 he expected to find in the rich and beautiful 
 daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Smith, he found her 
 a modest, sensible, unassuming girl, whose views 
 upon all subjects coincided precisely with his 
 own. 
 
 "She yielded to the wishes of her parents, 
 from a sense of duty, in giving and attending 
 parties; but she always left them under the 
 conviction that the time spent at them was worse 
 than wasted. It was really a luxury to her to 
 retire from the idle chit-chat of them, and to 
 spend a few minutes in conversation with a male 
 or female friend who would consider it no dis 
 respect to the company to talk rationally upon 
 such occasions. And yet, in conducting such 
 conversations at such times, it was so difficult to 
 
1 90 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 avoid the appearance of pedantry, and to keep 
 it from running into something too stiff or too 
 grave for a social circle, that she really was 
 afraid to court them." As to books, "she read 
 but very few novels, though her ignorance of 
 them often exposed her to some mortification; 
 but she felt that her ignorance here was a com 
 pliment to her taste and delicacy, which made 
 ample amends for the mortifications to which it 
 forced her occasionally to submit. With Hannah 
 More, Mrs. Chapone, Bennett, and other writers 
 of the same class she was very familiar" (and she 
 descanted upon the peculiar merits of each) ; " but, 
 after all, books were of small consequence to a 
 lady without those domestic virtues which enable 
 her to blend superior usefulness with superior 
 acquirements; and if learning or usefulness must 
 be forsaken, it had better be the first. Of music 
 she was extravagantly fond, and she presumed 
 she ever would be; but she confessed she had no 
 taste for its modern refinements." 
 
 Thus she went on with the turns of the con 
 versation and as she caught George s views. It 
 is true she would occasionally drop a remark 
 which did not harmonize exactly with these 
 dulcet strains; and in her rambles over the 
 world of science she would sometimes seem at 
 
"A CHARMING WIFE" 191 
 
 fault where George thought she ought to have 
 been perfectly at home; but he found a thou 
 sand charitable ways of accounting for all this, 
 not one of which led to the idea that she might 
 have learned these diamond sentiments by rote 
 from the lips of her preceptress. Consequently, 
 they came with resistless force upon the citadel 
 of George s heart, and in less than half an hour 
 overpowered it completely. 
 
 "Truly," thought George, "she is a charming 
 creature ! When was so much beauty ever blended 
 with such unassuming manners and such intel 
 lectual endowments! How wonderful that the 
 daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Smith should possess 
 such accomplishments! How dull with all her 
 filial affection how dull must be her life under 
 the parental roof ! Not a companion, not a sym 
 pathetic feeling there ! How sweet it would be to 
 return from the toils of the courts to a bosom 
 friend so soft, so benevolent, so intelligent." 
 
 Thus ran George s thoughts as soon as Miss 
 Smith had left him to go in quest of new con 
 quests. The effects of her short interview with 
 him soon became visible to every eye. His con 
 versation lost its spirit, was interrupted by moody 
 abstractions, and was sillier than it had ever been. 
 George had a fine person, and, for the first time 
 
STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 in his life, he now set a value upon it. To exhibit 
 it to the greatest advantage, he walked the room 
 under various pretences; and when in his prom 
 enades he caught the eye of Miss Smith resting 
 upon him he assumed a more martial or theatric 
 step, which made him look ridiculous at the time, 
 and feel so immediately afterwards. In his listless 
 journey ings his attention was arrested by a 
 beautiful cottage scene at the foot of which glit 
 tered, in golden letters, " BY EVELINA CAROLINE 
 SMITH, OF - , GEORGIA. " 
 
 This led him to another, and another, from the 
 same pencil. Upon these he was gazing with a 
 look and attitude the most complimentary to Miss 
 Evelina that he could possibly assume, while the 
 following remarks were going the rounds. 
 "Do you notice George Baldwin?" 
 "Oh yes; he s in for it; dead, sir; good-bye 
 to bail writs and sassiperaris!" 
 
 "Oh, she s only put an attachment on him." 
 "Really, Miss Smith, it was too bad to serve 
 George Baldwin so cruelly!" 
 
 "Ah, sir, if reports are true, Mr. Baldwin is 
 too fond of his books to think of any lady, much 
 less of one so unworthy of his attentions as I 
 
 am." 
 
 George heard this, nestled a little, threw back 
 
"A CHARMING WIFE" 193 
 
 his shoulders, placed his arms akimbo, and looked 
 at the picture with wonderful independence. 
 
 Then Miss Evelina was handed to the piano, 
 and to a simple, beautiful air she sang a well- 
 written song, the burden of which was an apology 
 for love at first sight. This was wanton cruelty 
 to an unresisting captive. To do her justice, 
 however, her performance had not been equalled 
 during the evening. 
 
 The company at length began to retire; and, 
 so long as a number remained sufficient to give 
 him an apology for staying, George delayed his 
 departure. The last group of ladies and gentle 
 men finally rose, and George commenced a fruit 
 less search for his hat; fruitless, because he look 
 ed for it where he knew it was not to be found. 
 But a servant was more successful, and brought 
 it to him just as he was giving up the search as 
 hopeless, and commencing a conversation with 
 Miss Smith for the night. 
 
 "Why, where did you find it?" said George, 
 with seeming surprise and pleasure at the dis 
 covery. 
 
 "Out da, in de entry, sir, wha all de gentle 
 men put da hats." 
 
 "Oh, I ought to have known that. Good-bye, 
 Miss Evelina!" said George, throwing a melting 
 
 13 
 
i 9 4 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 eloquence into the first word, and reaching forth 
 his hand. 
 
 "Good-evening, Mr. Baldwin!" returned she; 
 " I hope you will not be quite so great a stranger 
 here as you have been. Pa has often wondered 
 that you never visit him." Here she relinquished 
 his hand with a gentle but sensible pressure, 
 which might mean two or three things. What 
 ever was its meaning, it ran like nitrous oxide 
 through every fibre of George s composition, and 
 robbed him for a moment of his last ray of in 
 tellect. 
 
 "Believe me, Miss Smith," said he, as if he 
 were opening a murder case "believe me, there 
 are fascinations about this hospitable home, in 
 the delicate touches of the pencil which adorn it, 
 and in the soft breathings of the piano, awaked 
 by the hand which I have just relinquished, which 
 will not permit me to delay, as heretofore, those 
 visits which professional duty requires me to 
 make to your kind parent (your father) a single 
 moment beyond the time that his claims to my 
 respects become absolute. Good-evening, Miss 
 Smith." 
 
 "Did ever mortal of common-sense talk and 
 act so much like an arrant fool as I have this 
 evening?" said George, as the veil of night fell 
 
"A CHARMING WIFE" 195 
 
 upon the visions which had danced before his 
 eyes for the four preceding hours. 
 
 Though it was nearly twelve o clock at night 
 when he reached his office, he could not sleep 
 until he laid the adventures of the evening before 
 his father and mother. The return mail brought 
 him a letter from his parents, written by his 
 mother s hand, which we regret we cannot give 
 a place in this narrative. Suffice it to say, it was 
 kind and affectionate, but entirely too cold for 
 the temperature of George s feelings. It admit 
 ted the intrinsic excellence of Miss Smith s views 
 and sentiments, but expressed serious apprehen 
 sions that her habits of life would prove an in 
 superable barrier to her ever putting them in full 
 practice. " We all profess, my dear George, " said 
 the amiable writer, "the value of industry, econ 
 omy in short, of all the domestic and social 
 virtues; but how small the number who practice 
 them! Golden sentiments are to be picked up 
 anywhere. In this age they are upon the lips of 
 everybody ; but we do not find that they exert as 
 great an influence upon the morals of society as 
 they did in the infancy of our republic, when 
 they were less talked of. For ourselves, we con 
 fess we prize the gentleman or lady who habitu 
 ally practises one Christian virtue much higher 
 
1 96 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 than we do the one who barely lectures eloquently 
 upon them all. But we are not so weak or so 
 uncharitable as to suppose that none who dis 
 course fluently upon them can possess them. 
 
 "The whole moral which we would deduce 
 from the foregoing remarks is one which your 
 own observation must have taught you a thousand 
 times: that but little confidence is to be reposed 
 in fine sentiments which do not come recom 
 mended by the life and conduct of the person who 
 retails them. And yet, familiar as you are with 
 this truth, you certainly have more command over 
 your judgment than have most young men of 
 your age, if you do not entirely forget it the mo 
 ment you hear such sentiments from the lips of 
 a lady possessing strong personal attractions. 
 There is a charm in beauty which even philos 
 ophy is constrained to acknowledge, and which 
 youth instinctively transfers to all the moral qual 
 ities of its possessor. 
 
 "When you come to know the elements of 
 which connubial happiness is composed, you will 
 be astonished to find that, with few exceptions, 
 
"A CHARMING WIFE " 197 
 
 they are things which you now consider the veri 
 est trifles imaginable. It is a happy ordination 
 of Providence that it should be so ; for this brings 
 matrimonial bliss within the reach of all classes of 
 persons. * * * Harmony of thought and feel 
 ing upon the little daily occurrences of life, conge 
 niality of views and sentiments between yourselves, 
 and your connections on either side, similarity of 
 habits and pursuits among your immediate rela 
 tives and friends, if not essential to nuptial bliss, 
 are certainly its chief ingredients. 
 
 ****** 
 
 " Having pointed you to the sources of conju 
 gal felicity, your own judgment will spare my 
 trembling hand the painful duty of pointing you 
 to those fountains of bitterness and woe; but I 
 forget that I am representing your father as well 
 as myself." 
 
 George read the long letter from which the 
 foregoing extracts are taken with deep interest 
 and with some alarm ; but he was not in a situa 
 tion to profit by his parents counsels. He had 
 visited Miss Smith repeatedly in the time he was 
 waiting to hear from his parents; and though 
 he had discovered many little foibles in her char 
 acter, he found a ready apology or an easy remedy 
 for them all. 
 
i 9 8 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 The lapse of a few months found them engaged 
 and George the happiest mortal upon earth. 
 
 "And now, my dear Evelina," said he, as soon 
 as they had interchanged their vows, "I go to 
 render myself worthy of the honor you have con 
 ferred upon me. My studies, which love, doubt, 
 and anxiety have too long interrupted, shall now 
 be renewed with redoubled intensity. My Eve 
 lina s interest, being associated with all my labors, 
 will turn them to pleasures; my honor being 
 hers, I shall court it with untiring zeal. She will 
 therefore excuse me if my visits are not repeated 
 in future quite as often as they have been here 
 tofore." 
 
 "What, a ready, Mr. Baldwin!" exclaimed she, 
 weeping most beautifully. 
 
 "Why, no, not for the world, if my dear Eve 
 lina says not! But I thought that I flattered 
 myself I hoped my Evelina would find a suffi 
 cient apology in the motive." 
 
 The little mistake was rectified in the course of 
 an hour, and they parted more in raptures with 
 each other than they had ever been. 
 
 George continued his visits as before, and in 
 the meantime his business began to suffer from 
 neglect, of which his clients occasionally reminded 
 him, with all the frankness which one exhibits 
 
"A CHARMING WIFE" 199 
 
 at seeing a love affair carried on with too much 
 zeal and at his expense. In truth, George s heart 
 had more than once entertained a wish (for his 
 lips dare not utter it) that his charming Evelina s 
 affection could come down to a hundred of Wedge- 
 wood when the circuit commenced, and give him a 
 temporary respite. 
 
 The evening before he set out he spent with 
 his charming Evelina," of course, and the in 
 terview closed with a most melting scene; but 
 I may not stop to describe it. Candor constrains 
 me to say, however, that George got over it before 
 he reached his office, which he entered actually 
 whistling a merry tune. 
 
 He was at the second court of the circuit, and 
 had been from home nearly a fortnight, when 
 one of his friends addressed him with, "I ll tell 
 you what it is, Baldwin: you d better go home 
 or Dr. Bibb will cut you out. There have been 
 two or three parties in town since you came away, 
 at all of which Miss Smith and Bibb were as thick 
 as two pickpockets. The whole town s talking 
 about them. I heard a young lady say to her, 
 she d tell you how she was carrying on with Bibb ; 
 and she declared, upon her word and honor (look 
 ing killniferously at Bibb), that she only knew 
 you as her father s collecting attorney." 
 
200 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 George reddened deeper and deeper at every 
 word of this, but passed it off with a hearty, 
 hectic laugh. 
 
 It was on Thursday afternoon that he received 
 this intelligence, and it met him forty miles 
 from home, and twenty-five from the next court 
 in order. Two of his cases were yet undisposed 
 of. Of these he gave hasty notes to one of his 
 brethren, in order to guide him if he should be 
 forced to trial, but instructing him to continue 
 them if he could. Having made these arrange 
 ments, Friday afternoon, at five o clock, found 
 his jaded horse at his office door. George tarried 
 here no longer than was necessary to change his 
 apparel, and then he hastened to the habitation 
 of his "charming Evelina." 
 
 He was received at the door by a servant, who 
 escorted him to the drawing-room, and who, 
 to heighten Evelina s joy by surprise, in 
 structed her maid to tell her that there was a 
 gentleman in the drawing-room who wished to 
 see her. 
 
 Minute after minute rolled away, and she did 
 not make her appearance. After he had been 
 kept in suspense for nearly a quarter of an hour, 
 she entered the room, dressed in bridal richness 
 and taste. 
 
"A CHARMING WIFE" 201 
 
 "Why, is it you?" said she, rushing to him 
 in transports: "I thought it was Dr. Bibb." 
 
 "And who is Dr. Bibb, Evelina?" said George. 
 
 "He s a young physician, with whom I had 
 a partial acquaintance in Philadelphia, and who 
 has just settled himself in this place. I want 
 you to get acquainted with him, for he is one 
 of the most interesting young gentlemen I ever 
 knew in my life. " 
 
 "No doubt I should be much pleased with 
 him; but do you think he would feel himself 
 much honored or improved by an acquaintance 
 with your father s collecting attorney !" 
 
 "Why! Is it possible that Rebecca Freeman 
 has told you that? I never will speak to her 
 again. I am the most persecuted being upon 
 earth. I can say nothing nor do nothing, no 
 matter how innocent, which some one does not 
 make a handle of to injure me. " 
 
 Here Miss Evelina burst into tears, as usual; 
 but there being a little passion mingled with her 
 tears on this occasion, her weeping was not quite 
 as interesting as it had been before. It subdued 
 George, however, and paved the way to a reconcil- 
 ation. The obnoxious expression was explained 
 rather awkwardly, indeed, but satisfactorily 
 and Miss Freeman was acquitted of all blame. 
 
202 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 Matters were just placed in this posture when 
 a servant arrived to inform George "that some 
 thing was the matter with his horse, and Mr. 
 Cox (his landlord) thought he was going to die. " 
 
 George rose, and was hastening to the relief 
 of his favorite of all quadrupeds, when Miss Smith 
 burst into a very significant but affected laugh. 
 
 "Why, what is it amuses you so, Evelina?" 
 inquired George, with some surprise. 
 
 "Oh, nothing," said she; "I was only thinking 
 how quick Mr. Baldwin forgets me when his 
 horse demands his attentions. I declare, I m 
 right jealous of my rival." 
 
 "Go back, boy, and tell your master I can t 
 come just now; but I ll thank him to do what 
 he can for the poor animal. " 
 
 Mr. Cox, upon receiving this intelligence, and 
 learning the business which engrossed George s 
 attention, left the horse to take care of himself; 
 and he died just before George returned from 
 Mr. Smith s. 
 
 These, and a thousand little annoyances which 
 we may not enumerate, urged upon George the 
 importance of hastening the nuptials as speedily 
 as possible. 
 
 Accordingly, by all the dangers, ills, alarms, 
 and anxieties which attend the hours of engage- 
 
"A CHARMING WIFE " 203 
 
 ment, he pressed her to name the happy day 
 within the coming month when their hearts and 
 their destinies should be inseparably united. 
 
 But "she could not think of getting married 
 for two years yet to come ; then one year at least. 
 At all events, she could not appoint a day until 
 she consulted her dear Morgiana Cornelia Marsh, 
 of Canaan, Vermont. Morgiana was her class 
 mate, and, at parting in Philadelphia, they had 
 interchanged pledges that whichever got married 
 first should be waited upon by the other." 
 
 In vain did George endeavor to persuade her 
 that this was a schoolgirl pledge, which Morgiana 
 had already forgotten, and which she never would 
 fulfil. His arguments only provoked a reproof 
 of his unjust suspicions of the "American fair." 
 
 Finding his arguments here unavailing, he 
 then entreated his "charming Evelina" to write 
 immediately to Miss Marsh to know when it 
 would be agreeable to her to fulfil her promise. 
 
 Weeks rolled away before Miss Smith could 
 be prevailed upon even to write the all-important 
 letter. She despatched it at last, however, and 
 George began to entertain hopes that a few months 
 would make the dear Evelina his own. 
 
 In the meantime his business fell in arrears, 
 and his clients complained loudly against him. 
 
204 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 He was incessantly tortured with false rumors 
 of his coldness and indifference towards Miss 
 Smith, and of the light and disrespectful remarks 
 which he had made upon her; but he was much 
 more tortured by her unabated thirst for balls and 
 parties of pleasure; her undiminished love of 
 general admiration, and the unconcealed encour 
 agement which she gave to the attentions of Dr. 
 Bibb. The effect which these things had upon 
 his temper was visible to all his friends. He be 
 came fretful, petulant, impatient, and melancholy. 
 Dr. Bibb proved, in truth, to be a most accom 
 plished, intelligent gentleman; and was the man 
 who, above all others, George would have selected 
 for his friend and companion, had not the impru 
 dences of Evelina transformed him into a rival. 
 As things were, however, his accomplishments 
 only embittered George s feelings towards him, 
 provoked from George cruel, misplaced, and un 
 natural sarcasms, which the world placed to the 
 account of jealousy, and in which George s con 
 science forced him to admit that the world did 
 him nothing more nor less than sheer justice. 
 
 At length Miss Morgiana s letter arrived. It 
 opened with expressions of deep contrition that 
 the writer " should have got married without 
 giving her beloved Evelina an opportunity of 
 
"A CHARMING WIFE" 205 
 
 fulfilling her promise; but really, after all, she 
 was not to blame, for she did propose to write to 
 her beloved Evelina to come on to Canaan, but 
 papa and Mr. Huntington (her husband) would 
 not hear of it ; indeed, they both got almost vexed 
 that she should think of such a thing. * * * 
 But as soon as my beloved Evelina gets married 
 she must appoint a time at which we can meet 
 at Philadelphia with our husbands and compare 
 notes. * * * I have a thousand secrets to 
 tell you about married life; but I must reserve 
 them till we meet. A thousand kisses to your 
 dear George for me; and tell him, if I were not a 
 married woman I should certainly fall in love with 
 him, from your description of him." 
 
 "Well, I declare," said Evelina, as she folded 
 up the letter, " I could not have believed that 
 Morgiana would have served me so. I would 
 have died before I would have treated her in the 
 same way." 
 
 The great obstacle being now removed, the 
 wedding night was fixed at the shortest time 
 that it could be to allow the necessary prepara 
 tions, which was just three months ahead. 
 
 Before these three months rolled away, George 
 became convinced that he had staked his earthly 
 happiness upon the forlorn hope of reforming 
 
2o6 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 Miss Smith s errors after marriage; but his sense 
 of honor was too refined to permit him to harbor 
 a thought of breaking the engagement; and, 
 indeed, so completely had he become enamoured 
 of her that any perils seemed preferable to giving 
 her up forever. 
 
 He kept his parents faithfully advised of all 
 the incidents of his love and courtship, and every 
 letter which he forwarded went like a serpent 
 into the Eden of peace over which they presided. 
 Their letters to him never came unembalmed 
 in a mother s tears, and were never read without 
 the tender response which a mother s tears ever 
 draw from the eyes of a truly affectionate son. 
 
 The night came, and George and Evelina were 
 married. 
 
 A round of bridal parties succeeded, every one 
 of which served only to heighten George s alarms 
 and to depress his spirits. He could not dis 
 cover that marriage had abated in the smallest 
 degree his wife s love of general admiration and 
 flattery. The delight which she felt at the at 
 tentions of the young gentlemen was visible to 
 more eyes than his, as was plainly evinced by 
 the throngs which attended her wheresoever she 
 moved. Occasionally their assiduities assumed 
 a freedom which was well calculated to alarm 
 
"A CHARMING WIFE " 207 
 
 and to inflame one whose notions of married life 
 were much less refined than those which George 
 had ever entertained; but there was an apology 
 for them, which he knew he would be forced to 
 admit, flimsy as it was in truth namely, "they 
 were only those special attentions which were 
 due to the queen of a bridal party." Another 
 consideration forced him to look in silence upon 
 those liberties. His wife had taken no offence 
 at them. She either did not repel them at all, 
 or she repelled them in such a good-humored 
 way that she encouraged rather than prevented 
 the repetition of them. For him, therefore, to 
 have interposed would have been considered an 
 act of supererogation. 
 
 To the great delight of George, the parties 
 ended, and the young couple set out on a visit 
 to Lagrange, the residence of George s parents. 
 On their way thither, Evelina was secluded, of 
 course, from the gaze of every person but her 
 husband; and her attachment now became as 
 much too ardent as it had before been too cold. 
 If, at their stages, he left her for a moment, she 
 was piqued at his coldness or distressed at his 
 neglect. If he engaged in a conversation with 
 an acquaintance or a stranger he was sure to be 
 interrupted by his wife s waiting-maid, Flora, 
 
208 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 with "Miss V lina say, please go da, sir;" and 
 when he went he always found her in tears or 
 in a pet at having been neglected so long by 
 him, "when he knew she had no friend or com 
 panion to entertain her but himself." 
 
 George had been long acquainted with the 
 ladies of the houses at which they stopped. 
 They all esteemed him, and were all anxious 
 to be made acquainted with his wife; but she 
 could not be drawn from her room, from the 
 time she entered a house until she rose to leave 
 it. All her meals were taken in her room; and 
 George was rebuked by her because he would 
 not follow her example. It was in vain that he 
 reasoned with her upon the impropriety of chang 
 ing his deportment to his old acquaintances im 
 mediately after his marriage. He stated to her 
 that the change would be attributed to pride; 
 that he should lose a number of humble but 
 valuable acquaintances, which, to a professional 
 gentleman, is no small loss. But "she could 
 not understand that a gentleman is at liberty to 
 neglect his wife for humble but valuable 
 yL acquaintances?" 
 
 When they reached Lagrange they received as 
 warm a welcome from George s parents as par 
 ents laboring under their apprehensions could 
 
"A CHARMING WIFE 209 
 
 give; but Mary and Martha, having nothing to 
 mar their pleasures (for they had not been per 
 mitted to know the qualifications which George s 
 last letters had annexed to his first), received 
 her with all the delight which the best hearts 
 could feel at welcoming to the family, in the 
 character of a sister, the beautiful, amiable, ac 
 complished, intelligent, wealthy Miss Smith. In 
 anticipation of her coming, the girls had brushed 
 up their history, philosophy, geography, as 
 tronomy, and botany for her especial entertain 
 ment, or, rather, that they might appear a little at 
 home when their new sister should invite them 
 to a ramble over the fields of science. The labor 
 answered not its purpose, however ; Evelina would 
 neither invite nor be invited to any such rambles. 
 The news of George s arrival at Lagrange with 
 his wife brought many of his rustic acquaintances 
 to visit him. To many of them George was as 
 a son or a brother, for he had been acquainted 
 with them from his earliest years, and he had a 
 thousand times visited their habitations with the 
 freedom with which he entered his father s. 
 They met him, therefore, with unrestrained fa 
 miliarity, and treated his wife as a part of him 
 self. George had endeavored to prepare her for 
 the plain, blunt, but honest familiarities of his 
 
 14 
 
210 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 early friends. He had assured her that, how 
 ever rude they might seem, they were perfectly 
 innocent nay, they were tokens of guileless 
 friendship; for the natural disposition of plain 
 unlettered farmers was to keep aloof from "the 
 quality," as they called the people of the town, 
 and that by as much as they overcame this dis 
 position, by so much did they mean to be under 
 stood as evincing favor; but Evelina profited 
 but little by his lessons. 
 
 The first visitor was old Mr. Dawson, who had 
 dandled George on his knee a thousand times, 
 and who, next to his father, was the sincerest 
 male friend that George had living. 
 
 11 Well, Georgy, " said the old man, " and you ve 
 got married?" 
 
 " Yes, Uncle Sammy, and here s my wife. What 
 do you think of her?" 
 
 "Why, she s a mighty pretty creater; but 
 you d better took my Nance. She d ave made 
 you another sort of wife to this pretty little soft 
 creater." 
 
 " I don t know, sir, " said Evelina, a little fiery, 
 "how you can tell what sort of a wife a person 
 will make whom you never saw. And I presume 
 Mr. Baldwin is old enough to choose for himself. " 
 
 "Ah, well, now I know he d better ave took 
 
"A CHARMING WIFE" 211 
 
 my Nance," said the old man, with a dry smile. 
 "Georgy, my son, I m afraid you ve got yourself 
 into bad business; but I wish you much happi 
 ness, my boy. Come, Neighbor Baldwin, let s 
 go take a look at your farm. " 
 
 "Oh no," said old Mr. Baldwin, "we will not 
 go till I make my daughter better acquainted 
 with you. She is unused to our country man 
 ners, and therefore does not understand them. 
 Evelina, my dear, Mr. Dawson is one of our best 
 and kindest neighbors, and you and he must not 
 break upon your first acquaintance. He was 
 only joking George in what he said, and had no 
 idea that you would take it seriously." 
 
 "Well, sir," said Evelina, "if Mr. Dawson will 
 say that he did not intend to wound my feelings, 
 I m willing to forgive him. " 
 
 " Oh, God love your pretty little soul of you, " 
 said the~old man, "I didn t even know you had 
 any feelings; but as to the forgiving part, why, 
 that s neither here nor there!" Here Evelina 
 rose indignantly and left the room. 
 
 "Well, Georgy, my son," continued the old 
 man, "I m sorry your wife s so touchy; but you 
 mustn t forget old Daddy Dawson. Come, my 
 boy, to our house, like you used to, when you 
 and Sammy and Nancy used to sit round the 
 
212 
 
 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 bowl of buttermilk under the big oak that cov 
 ered Mammy Dawson s dairy. I always think of 
 poor Sammy when I see you" (brushing a tear 
 from his eye with the back of his hand). "I m 
 obliged to love you, you young dog; and I want 
 to love your wife too, if she d let me; but, be 
 that as it may, Sammy s playmate won t forget 
 Daddy Dawson will he, George?" 
 
 George could only say "Never!" with a filling 
 eye, and the old men set out for the fields. 
 
 Most of the neighbors who came to greet 
 George upon his return to Lagrange shared Mr. 
 Dawson s fate. One wanted to span Evelina s 
 waist, for he declared " she was the littlest Greater 
 round the waist he ever seed. 1 Another would 
 "buss her because she was George s wife, and 
 because it was the first chance he ever had in all 
 his life to buss (kiss) the quality. " A third 
 proposed a swap of wives with George, and all 
 made some remark too blunt for Evelina s re 
 fined ear. Having no tact for turning off these 
 things playfully, and as little disposition to do 
 so, she repelled them with a town dignity which 
 soon relieved her of these intrusions, and in less 
 than a week stopped the visits of George s first 
 and warmest friends to his father s house. 
 
 Her habits, views, and feelings agreeing in 
 
"A CHARMING WIFE" 213 
 
 nothing with the family in which she was placed, 
 Evelina was unhappy herself, and made all 
 around her unhappy. Her irregular hours of 
 retiring and rising, her dilatoriness in attending 
 her meals, her continual complaints of indisposi 
 tion, deranged all the regulations of the family, 
 and begot such confusion in the household that 
 even the elder Mrs. Baldwin occasionally lost her 
 equanimity; so that when Evelina announced, a 
 week before the appointed time, that she must 
 return home, the intelligence was received with 
 pleasure rather than pain. 
 
 Upon their return home, George and his lady 
 found a commodious dwelling handsomely fur 
 nished for their reception. Mr. Smith presented 
 him this in lieu of the check of which he had 
 spoken before the marriage of his daughter; and 
 though the gift did not redeem the promise by 
 $14,000, George was perfectly satisfied. Mrs. 
 Smith added to the donation her own cook and 
 carriage-driver. Flora, the maid, had been con 
 sidered Evelina s from her infancy. Nothing 
 could have been more agreeable to George than 
 the news that greeted him on his arrival, that he 
 was at liberty to name the day when he would 
 conduct Evelina to his own house; for his last 
 hope of happiness hung upon this last change of 
 
2i 4 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 life. He allowed himself but two days after his 
 return to lay in his store of provisions; and on 
 the third, at four in the afternoon, he led his 
 wife to their mutual home. 
 
 "To this moment, my dear Evelina," said 
 George, as they seated themselves in their own 
 habitation "to this moment have I looked for 
 ward for many months with the liveliest interest. 
 I have often figured to myself the happy hours 
 that we should enjoy under the common roof, and 
 I hope the hour has arrived when we will unite 
 our endeavors to realize my fond anticipations. 
 Let us, then, upon the commencement of a new 
 life, interchange our pledges that we will each 
 exert ourselves to promote the happiness of the 
 other. In many respects, it must be acknowl 
 edged that our views and dispositions are differ 
 ent ; but they will soon be assimilated by identity 
 of interest, community of toil, and a frank and 
 affectionate interchange of opinions, if we will 
 but consent to submit to some little sacrifices in 
 the beginning to attain this object. Now tell 
 me, candidly and fearlessly, my Evelina, what 
 would you have me be, and what would you have 
 me do, to answer your largest wishes from your 
 husband?" 
 
 "I would have you," said Evelina, "think 
 
"A CHARMING WIFE" 215 
 
 more of me than all the world beside; I would 
 have you the first lawyer in the State; I would 
 have you overcome your dislike to such inno 
 cent amusements as tea-parties and balls; and 
 I would have you take me to the Springs, or to 
 New York or Philadelphia, every summer. Now 
 what would you have me do?" 
 
 "I would have you rise when I do; regulate 
 your servants with system; see that they per 
 form their duties in the proper way and the 
 proper time; let all provisions go through your 
 hands; and devote your spare time to reading 
 valuable works, painting, music, or any other 
 improving employment or innocent recreation. 
 Be thus, and I will think more of you than all 
 the world beside ; I will be the first lawyer in 
 the State ; and after a few years, you shall visit 
 the North or the Springs every summer, if you 
 desire it." 
 
 "Lord, if I do all these things you mention 
 I shall have no time for reading, music, or paint 
 ing!" 
 
 " Yes you will. My mother " 
 
 "Oh, for the Lord s sake, Mr. Baldwin, hush 
 talking about your mother! I m sick and tired 
 of hearing you talk of my mother this, and 
 my mother that ; and when I went to your house 
 
216 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 I didn t see that she got along a bit better than 
 my mother, except in her cooking; and that was 
 only because your mother cooked the meats and 
 your sisters made the pastry. I don t see the use 
 of having servants if one must do everything 
 herself." 
 
 "My sisters make the pastry, to be sure; be 
 cause mother desires that they should learn how 
 to do these things, that they may better super 
 intend the doing of them when they get mar 
 ried, and because she thinks such things should 
 not pass through the hands of servants when it 
 can be avoided; but my mother never cooks." 
 
 " She does, for I saw her lifting off a pot my 
 self." 
 
 " She does not " 
 
 Here the entry of the cook stopped a contro 
 versy that was becoming rather warm for the first 
 evening at home. 
 
 "I want the keys, Miss V lina, to get out 
 supper, " said the cook. 
 
 "There they are, Aunt* Clary," said Evelina; 
 "try and have everything very nice." 
 
 * "Aunt" and "maurna," or "maum," its abbreviation, are 
 terms of respect commonly used by children to aged negroes. 
 The first generally prevails in the up-country, and the 
 second on the seaboard. 
 
"A CHARMING WIFE " 217 
 
 " My dear, I wouldn t send her to the provisions 
 unattended; everything depends upon your com 
 mencing right " 
 
 "Hush!" said Evelina, with some agitation; 
 " I wouldn t have her hear you for the world. 
 She d be very angry if she thought we suspected 
 her honesty. Ma always gave her up the keys, 
 and she says she never detected her in a theft 
 in all her life. " 
 
 "Very well," said George, "we ll see." 
 
 After a long waiting, the first supper made its 
 appearance. It consisted of smoked tea, half- 
 baked biscuit, butter, and sliced venison. 
 
 "Why," said Evelina, as she sipped her first 
 cup of tea, "this tea seems to me to be smoked. 
 Here, Flora, throw it out and make some more. 
 Oh, me! the biscuit ain t done. Aunt Clary s 
 made quite an unfortunate beginning. But I 
 didn t want any supper do you?" 
 
 "I can do without it," said George, coldly, 
 "if you can." 
 
 " Well, let s not eat any, and that will be the 
 very way to mortify Aunt Clary without making 
 her mad. To-morrow I ll laugh at her for cheat 
 ing us of our supper, and she won t do so any 
 more. The old creature has very tender feelings. " 
 I ll starve for a week to save Clary s feelings, " 
 
218 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 said George, "if you will only quit aunting her. 
 How can you expect her to treat you or 
 your orders with respect when you treat her as 
 your superior?" 
 
 "Well, really, I can t see any great harm in 
 treating aged people with respect, even if their 
 skins are black." 
 
 "I wish you had thought of that when you 
 were talking to old Mr. Dawson. I should think 
 he was entitled to as much respect as an infernal 
 black wench!" 
 
 This was the harshest expression that had ever 
 escaped George s lips. Evelina could not stand 
 it. She left the room, threw herself on a bed, 
 and burst into tears. 
 
 In the course of the night the matter was ad 
 justed. 
 
 The next morning George rose with the sun, 
 and he tried to prevail upon his wife to do the 
 same; but "she could not see what was the use 
 of her getting up so soon, just to set about doing 
 nothing;" and, to silence all further importunities 
 then and after upon that score, she told him flatly 
 she never would consent to rise at that hour. 
 
 At half after eight she made her appearance, 
 and breakfast came in. It consisted of muddy 
 coffee, hard-boiled eggs, and hard-burnt biscuit. 
 
"A CHARMING WIFE" 219 
 
 "Why, what has got into Aunt Clary," said 
 Evelina, " that she cooks so badly?" 
 
 " Why, we mortified her so much, my dear, by 
 eating no supper," said George, "that we have 
 driven her to the opposite extreme. Let us now 
 throw the breakfast upon her hands, except the 
 coffee, and perhaps she ll be mortified back to a 
 medium." 
 
 "That s very witty, indeed," said Evelina; 
 "you must have learned it from the amiable and 
 accomplished Miss Nancy Dawson. " 
 
 This was an allusion which George could not 
 withstand, and he reddened to scarlet. 
 
 "Evelina," said he, "you are certainly the 
 strangest being that I ever met with; you are 
 more respectful to negroes than to whites, and 
 to everybody else than to your husband." 
 
 "Because," returned she. "negroes treat me 
 with more respect than some whites; and every 
 body else with more respect than my husband. " 
 
 George was reluctant to commence tightening 
 the reins of discipline with his servants for the 
 first few weeks of his mastership; and therefore 
 he bore in silence, but in anger, their idleness, 
 their insolence, and their disgusting familiarities 
 with his wife. He often visited the kitchen, unob 
 served, of nights, and almost always found it 
 
220 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 thronged with gay company, revelling in all the 
 daintiest of his closet, smoke-house, sideboard, 
 and pantry. He communicated his discoveries 
 to his wife, but she found no difficulty in account 
 ing satisfactorily for all that he had seen. 
 "Clary s husband had always supplied her with 
 everything she wanted. Flora had a hundred 
 ways of getting money; and Billy (the carriage- 
 driver) was always receiving little presents from 
 her and others." 
 
 At the end of three weeks Aunt Clary an 
 nounced that the barrel of flour was out. 
 
 "Now," said George, "I hope you are satisfied 
 that it is upon your flour, and not upon her 
 husband s, that Aunt Clary gives her entertain 
 ments." 
 
 "Why, law me!" said Evelina, "I think it has 
 lasted wonderfully. You recollect ma and pa 
 have been here most every day. " 
 
 "Had they boarded with us," said George, "we 
 could not have consumed a barrel of flour in three 
 weeks. " 
 
 In quick succession came the news that the tea, 
 coffee, and sugar were out; all of which Evelina 
 thought "had lasted wonderfully." 
 
 It would be useless to recount the daily differ 
 ences of George and his wife. In nothing could 
 
A CHARMING WIFE" 
 
 221 
 
 they agree; and the consequence was that at the 
 end of six weeks they had come to downright 
 quarrelling, through all which Evelina sought 
 and received the sympathy of Miss Flora and Aunt 
 Clary. 
 
 About this time the Superior Court commenced 
 its session in the city ; and a hundred like favors, 
 received from the judge and the bar, imposed 
 upon George the absolute necessity of giving a 
 dinner to his brethren. He used every precau 
 tion to pass it off well. He gave his wife four 
 days notice; he provided everything himself, of 
 the best that the town could afford; he became 
 all courtesy and affection to his wife, and all 
 respect and cheerfulness to Aunt Clary, in the 
 interim. He promised all the servants a hand 
 some present each if they would acquit them 
 selves well upon this occasion, and charged them 
 all, over and over, to remember that the time 
 between two and half-past three was all that the 
 bar could allow to his entertainment; and, con 
 sequently, dinner must be upon the table pre 
 cisely at two. 
 
 The day came and the company assembled. 
 Evelina, attired like a queen, received them in 
 the drawing-room, and all were delighted with 
 her. All were cheerful, talkative, and happy. 
 
222 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 Two o clock came, and no dinner; a quarter after, 
 and no dinner. The conversation began to flag 
 a little. Half-past two rolled round, and no 
 dinner. * Conversation sank to temperate, and 
 George rose to intemperate. Three-quarters past 
 two came, but no dinner. Conversation sank 
 to freezing, and George rose to fever heat. 
 
 At this interesting moment, while he was 
 sauntering every way, George sauntered near his 
 wife, who was deeply engaged in a conversation 
 with his brother Paine, a grave, intelligent young 
 man, and he detected her in the act of repeating, 
 verbatim et literatim, the pretty sentences which 
 first subdued his heart. 
 
 "Good Lord!" muttered George to himself; 
 "Jenkinson, in the Vicar of Wake field, with his 
 one sentence of learning revived!" 
 
 He rushed out of the room in order to inquire 
 what delayed dinner; and on leaving the dining- 
 room was met at the door by Flora with two 
 pale-blue, dry, boiled fowls, boiled almost to dis 
 memberment, upon a dish large enough to con 
 tain a goodly-sized shote, their legs sticking 
 straight out, with a most undignified straddle, 
 and bowing with a bewitching grace and elasticity 
 to George with every step that Flora made. 
 
 Behind her followed Billy, with a prodigious 
 
A CHARMING WIFE" 223 
 
 roast turkey, upon a dish that was almost con 
 cealed by its contents, his legs extended like the 
 fowls, the back and sides burned to a crisp, and 
 the breast raw. The old gentleman was hand 
 somely adorned with a large black twine neck 
 lace; and through a spacious window that, by 
 chance or design, the cook had left open the 
 light poured into his vacant cavity gloriously. 
 
 George stood petrified at the sight; nor did he 
 wake from his stupor of amazement until he was 
 roused by a burned round of beef and a raw leg 
 of mutton making by him for the same port in 
 which the fowls and turkey had been moored. 
 
 He rushed into the kitchen in a fury. You 
 infernal heifer!" said he to Aunt Clary; "what 
 kind of cooking is this you re setting before my 
 company?" 
 
 "Eh eh! Name o God, Mas George; how 
 anybody gwine cook t ing good when you hurry 
 em so?" 
 
 George looked for something to throw at her 
 head, but fortunately found nothing. 
 
 He returned to the house, and found his wife 
 entertaining the company with a never-ending 
 sonata on the piano. 
 
 Dinner was at length announced, and an awful 
 sight it was when full spread. George made as 
 
224 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 good apologies as he could, but his wife was not 
 in the least disconcerted; indeed, she seemed to 
 assume an air of self-complaisance at the pro 
 fusion and richness which crowned her board. 
 
 The gentlemen ate but little, owing, as they 
 said, to their having all eaten a very hearty 
 breakfast that morning. George followed his 
 guests to the Court-house, craved a continuance 
 of his cases for the evening on the ground of in 
 disposition, and it was granted, with an unac 
 countable display of sympathy. He returned 
 home and embarked in a quarrel with his wife, 
 which lasted until Evelina s exhausted nature 
 sank to sleep under it, at three the next morning. 
 
 George s whole character now became com 
 pletely revolutionized. Universal gloom over 
 spread his countenance. He lost his spirits, his 
 energy, his life, his temper, his everything en 
 nobling; and he had just begun to surrender 
 himself to the bottle, when an accident occurred 
 which revived his hopes of happiness with his 
 wife, and determined him to make one more effort 
 to bring her into his views. 
 
 Mr. Smith, by an unfortunate investment in 
 cotton, failed; and, after a bungling attempt to 
 secrete a few thousand dollars from his creditors 
 (for he knew George too well toclaim his assist- 
 
"A CHARMING WIFE" 225 
 
 ance in such a matter), he was left without a dol 
 lar that he could call his own. Evelina and her 
 parents all seemed as if they would go crazy under 
 the misfortune; and George now assumed the 
 most affectionate deportment to his wife and 
 the most soothing demeanor to her parents. The 
 parents were completely won to him; and his 
 wife, for once, seemed to feel towards him as she 
 should. George availed himself of this moment 
 to make another and the last attempt to reform 
 her habits and sentiments. 
 
 "My dear Evelina," said he, "we have nothing 
 now to look to but our own exertions for a support. 
 This, and indeed affluence, lies within our reach 
 if we will but seek them in a proper way. You 
 have only to use industry and care within-doors, 
 and I without, to place us, in a very few years, 
 above the frowns of fortune. We have only 
 to consult each other s happiness to make each 
 other happy. Come, then, my love, forgetting 
 our disgraceful bickerings, let us now commence a 
 new life. Believe me, there is no being on this 
 earth that my heart can love as it can you, if you 
 will but claim its affections; and you know how 
 to command them." Thus, at much greater 
 length, and with much more tenderness, did 
 George address her. His appeal had, for a season, 
 
 15 
 
226 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 its desired effect. Evelina rose with him, retired 
 with him, read with him. She took charge of the 
 keys, dealt out the stores with her own hand, 
 visited the kitchen; in short, she became every 
 thing George could wish or expect from one of her 
 inexperience. Things immediately wore a new 
 aspect. George became himself again. He recom 
 menced his studies with redoubled assiduity. 
 The community saw and delighted in the change, 
 and the bar began to tremble at his giant strides 
 in his profession. But, alas ! his bliss was doomed 
 to a short duration. Though Evelina saw, and 
 felt, and acknowledged the advantages and bless 
 ings of her new course of conduct, she had to pre 
 serve it by a struggle against nature ; and, at the 
 end of three months, nature triumphed over resolu 
 tion, and she relapsed into her old habits. George 
 now surrendered himself to drink and to despair, 
 and died the drunkard s death. At another time 
 I may perhaps give the melancholy account of 
 his ruin in detail, tracing its consequences down 
 to the moment at which I am now writing. 
 Should this time never arrive, let the fate of my 
 poor nephew be a warning to mothers against 
 bringing up their daughters to be "charming 
 creatures." 
 
IX. 
 THE BALL. 
 
 Being on a visit to the city of about ten 
 
 years ago, my old friend Jack De Bathle gave me 
 an invitation to a ball, of which he was one of the 
 managers. Jack had been the companion of my 
 childhood, my boyhood, and my early manhood; 
 and through many a merry dance had we hopped, 
 and laughed, and tumbled down together in the 
 morning of life. Dancing was really, in those 
 days, a merry-making business. Except the min 
 uet, which was introduced only to teach us the 
 graces, and the congo, which was only to chase 
 away the solemnities of the minuet, it was all a 
 jovial, heart-stirring, foot-stirring amusement. 
 We had none of your mathematical cotillions; 
 none of your immodest waltzes; none of your 
 detestable, disgusting gallopades. The waltz 
 would have crimsoned the cheek of every young 
 lady who attended a ball in my day ; and had the 
 gallopade been commenced in the ballroom, it 
 would have been ended in the street. I am happy 
 to say that the waltz has met with but very little 
 encouragement in Georgia as yet; the gallopade 
 
 ( 227 ) 
 
228 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 with none. Ye fair of my native land ! ye daugh 
 ters of a modest race ! blush them away from the 
 soil, which your mothers honored by their exam 
 ple and consecrated with their ashes! Born to 
 woman s loftiest destinies, it ill becomes you to 
 stoop from your high estate to ape the indecencies 
 of Europe s slaves. It is yours to command, 
 not to obey. Let vice approach you in what 
 form she may as the handmaid of wit and talents, 
 the mistress of courts, or the queen of fashion 
 fail not to meet her with the frown of indignant 
 virtue and the flush of offended modesty. There 
 is a majesty in these which has ever commanded 
 her homage. There is a loveliness in these which 
 will ever command the admiration of the world. 
 The interest which I feel in the character of the 
 fair daughters of America is my apology for this 
 sober digression. 
 
 Though De Bathle is but two months younger 
 than I am, he still dances occasionally; and to 
 this circumstance in part, but more particularly 
 to the circumstance of his being a married man, 
 is to be ascribed his appointment of manager 
 the custom now being to have one-third or one- 
 half the managers married men. This would 
 be a great improvement on the management of 
 balls in olden time could the married men only 
 
THE BALL 229 
 
 manage to keep out of the cardroom. Would 
 they take the direction of the amusement into 
 their hands, their junior colleagues would then 
 have an opportunity of sharing the pleasures of 
 the evening, a privilege which they seldom enjoy 
 as things are now conducted. However, married 
 men are not appointed with the expectation that 
 they will perform the duties of the office, but to 
 quiet the scruples of some half-dozen or more 
 "charming creatures, 1 who, though they never 
 fail to attend a ball, will not condescend to do so 
 until they are perfectly satisfied it is to be con 
 ducted with the utmost gravity, dignity, decorum, 
 and propriety. For these assurances they look 
 first to the face of the paper" (the ball-ticket); 
 and if they do not find on it a goodly number of 
 responsible names (such as, by reasonable pre 
 sumption, are well broke to petticoat government), 
 they protest against it, tell a hundred amiable 
 little fibs to conceal the cause of their opposition, 
 torture two or three beaux half to death with 
 suspense, and finally conclude to go "just to keep 
 from giving offence." But if the endorsers be 
 "potent, grave, and reverend seigniors," schooled 
 as aforesaid, why, then, one difficulty is at least 
 removed; for though it is well known that these 
 are "endorsers without recourse in the first 
 
23 o STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 instance," it is equally well known that they may 
 be ultimately made liable ; for if the juniors fail to 
 fulfil their engagements a lady has nothing to do 
 but to walk into the cardroom, take a senior by 
 the nape of the neck, lead him into the ballroom, 
 present her ticket with his name upon it in the 
 presence of the witnesses there assembled, and 
 she is sure of ample satisfaction. 
 
 When De Bathle and I reached the ballroom, 
 a large number of gentlemen had already assem 
 bled. They all seemed cheerful and happy. 
 Some walked in couples up and down the ball 
 room, and talked with great volubility; but 
 not one of them understood a word that himself 
 or his companion said. 
 
 "Ah, sir, how do you know that?" 
 
 Because the speakers showed plainly by their 
 looks and actions that their thoughts were run 
 ning upon their own personal appearance, and 
 upon the figure they would cut before the ladies 
 when they should arrive, and not upon the sub 
 ject of the discourse. And, furthermore, their 
 conversation was like that of one talking in his 
 sleep; without order, sense, or connection. The 
 hearer always made the speaker repeat in sen 
 tences and half-sentences, often interrupting 
 him with "What?" before he had proceeded three 
 
THE BALL 231 
 
 words in a remark; and then laughed affectedly, 
 as though he saw in the senseless, unfinished 
 sentence a most excellent joke. Then would 
 come his reply, which could not be forced into 
 connection with a word that he had heard; and 
 in the course of which he was treated with pre 
 cisely the civility which he had bestowed. And 
 yet they kept up the conversation with lively 
 interest as long as I listened to them. 
 
 Others employed themselves in commenting 
 good-humoredly upon each other s dresses and 
 figure, while some took steps awkwardly. 
 
 In the meantime, the three junior managers 
 met and agreed upon the parts which they were 
 to perform. Herein I thought they were unfor 
 tunate. To Mr. Flirt, a bustling, fidgety, restless 
 little man, about five feet two and a half inches 
 high, was assigned the comparatively easy task of 
 making out and distributing the numbers. Mr. 
 Crouch, a good-humored, sensible, but rather 
 unpolished gentleman, undertook to attend the 
 carriages, and to transport their precious treasures 
 to the ballroom, where Mr. Dupree was to receive 
 them, and see to their safe-keeping until the 
 dancing commenced. The parts of the married 
 men, up to the opening of the ball, was settled 
 by common law. They were to keep a sharp 
 
232 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 lookout, lend a helping hand in case of emergency, 
 drink plenty of wine, see that other gentlemen, 
 particularly strangers, did the same, and, finally, 
 to give any gentleman who might have come to the 
 ball encumbered with a little loose change an 
 opportunity of relieving himself. 
 
 Things were thus arranged, Crouch standing 
 with a group of gentlemen, of which I was one, 
 in the entry leading to the ballroom, when Mr. 
 Flirt broke upon us, as if the whole town were on 
 fire, with "Goodness, Crouch! there s Mrs. Mushy s 
 carriage at the door, full of ladies, and not a mana 
 ger there to receive them ! I 11 swear it is too bad ! 
 
 "Horrible!" said Crouch; and away he went. 
 
 But Mrs. Mushy, with Miss Feedle and Miss 
 Deedle, had reached the foot of the stairs unat 
 tended before Crouch, or even Flirt, who was 
 considerable in advance of him, met them. Mrs. 
 Mushy, who was a lady of very full habit, looked 
 huffishly as Flirt took her hand, and Miss Feedle 
 and Miss Deedle blushed sarcastically. Flirt 
 made a hundred apologies, and Crouch looked 
 first at Mrs. Mushy, then at Flirt, and tittered. 
 "What a lovely figure Mrs. Mushy is!" said he, 
 as he turned off from delivering his charge to 
 Dupree. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Crouch," said Flirt, "if you begin 
 
THE BALL 233 
 
 making your fun of the ladies a ready we d 
 better break up the ball at once. By Heaven, 
 it s a shame!" 
 
 "Upon my honor, Mr. Flirt," said Crouch, "I 
 think she s beautiful. I always liked a light and 
 airy figure, particularly for a ballroom." 
 
 By this time Dupree had joined us. Flirt left 
 us, obviously in a pet ; but we hardly missed him 
 before back he rushed from the ballroom, exclaim 
 ing, "Why, gracious heavens, Dupree! there are 
 those three ladies sitting in the ballroom and not a 
 gentleman in the room to entertain them! Do go 
 and introduce some of the gentlemen to them, 
 if you please." 
 
 "Flugens!" said Dupree, "what an oversight!" 
 and off he went for entertainers. After several 
 ineffectual attempts he at length prevailed on 
 Mr. Noozle and Mr. Boozle to be made acquainted 
 with the ladies. 
 
 Mr. N. seated himself to the right of Miss F., 
 and Mr. B. to the left of Miss D. ; Mrs. M. occupy 
 ing a seat between the girls, and looking, for all 
 the world, as if she thought, "Well, this is the last 
 ball I ll ever attend, unless it s a little better 
 managed!" But the young ladies looked like 
 a May morning as soon as the gentlemen 
 approached. 
 
234 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 After a pause of two minutes: 
 
 "It s a very pleasant evening/ said Mr. Noozle 
 to Miss Feedle. 
 
 "Delightful," said Miss Feedle to Mr. Noozle. 
 
 "It s a delightful evening," said Miss Deedle 
 to Mr. Boozle. 
 
 "Very pleasant," said Mr. Boozle to Miss 
 Deedle. 
 
 "I thought there were some married managers 
 of the ball," said Mrs. Mushy, emphatically. 
 Here ensued a long pause. 
 
 "Are you fond of dancing?" said Mr. Noozle. 
 
 "Ah! what s that you say, Noozle," said 
 Boozle "you are not fond of dancing? Come, 
 come, that ll never do. You tip the pigeon-wing 
 too well for that." 
 
 "You quite misapprehend me, sir," returned 
 Mr. Noozle. "Mine was not a declaration touch 
 ing in the remotest degree my personal predilec 
 tions or antipathies, but a simple interrogatory to 
 Miss Feedle. No, sir; though I cannot lay claim 
 to the proficiency of Noverre in the saltant art, 
 I am, nevertheless, extravagantly fond of danc 
 ing; too much so, I fear, for one who has but just 
 commenced the viginti lucubrationes annorum, as 
 that inimitable and fascinating expositor of the 
 elements of British jurisprudence, Sir William 
 
THE BALL 235 
 
 Blackstone, observes. To reach these high attain 
 ments in forensic " 
 
 Here the young gentlemen were forced to 
 resign their seats to a number of ladies who now 
 entered the ballroom. 
 
 "What an intelligent young gentleman!" said 
 Miss Feedle. "I declare I must set my cap for 
 him." 
 
 "I think the other much the most interesting 
 of the two," said Miss Deedle. "He s too affected, 
 and too fond of showing off his learning. What 
 did he call that inimitable expositor ? Jinny 
 Crashionis" 
 
 The seats were soon filled with ladies; almost 
 all of whom (except Mrs. Mushy) entered the 
 room in the same style, which seemed to have 
 been strictly copied from the movement of the 
 killdee. They took their seats with precisely the 
 motion with which the schoolgirls in my younger 
 days used to make "cheeses," as they called them, 
 with their frocks. 
 
 The musicians were all blacks, but neatly 
 dressed. The band consisted of three performers 
 on the violin, one on the clarinet, one on the tam 
 bourine, and one on the triangle. 
 
 The ladies ceased coming, and nothing seemed 
 now wanting to begin the amusement but the 
 
23 6 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 distribution of the numbers; but Mr. Flirt was 
 running up and down stairs every minute after 
 no one knew what; and with great anxiety 
 no one knew why. He would enter the room, 
 look the ladies all over, then down he would go; 
 then return and go through the same evolutions. 
 The band struck up a spirit-stirring tune, in 
 which the tambourine-player distinguished him 
 self. For dignified complacency of countenance, 
 under his own music, he rivalled Mr. Jenkins; 
 and he performed the rattlesnake note with his 
 middle finger in a style which threw Miss Crump 
 entirely in the shade. The band ceased, and 
 the inquiry became general, "Why doesn t the 
 drawing begin?" but Mr. Flirt still kept up his 
 anxious movements. 
 
 "In the name of sense, Flirt," said Crouch, 
 impatiently, as the little man was taking a third 
 survey of the ladies, "what are you bobbing up 
 and down stairs for? Why don t you distribute 
 the tickets?" 
 
 "Oh," said Flirt, "it s early yet. Let s wait 
 for Miss Gilt and Miss Rino. I know they re 
 coming, for Mr. Posy and Mr. Tulip told me they 
 saw them dressed, and their carriages at the door, 
 an hour ago." 
 
 "Blast Miss Gilt and Miss Rino!" returned 
 
THE BALL 237 
 
 Crouch. "Is the whole company to be kept 
 waiting for them? Now, sir, if the tickets are 
 not handed round in three minutes I ll announce 
 to the company that Mr. Flirt will permit no 
 dancing until Miss Gilt and Miss Rino shall think 
 proper to honor us with their presence." 
 
 "Oh, zounds!" said Flirt, "I m not waiting for 
 them. I thought it was too early to begin the 
 drawing. It s quite unfashionable in New York 
 to commence drawing before nine o clock." 
 (Miss R. s father was computed at a cool hundred 
 and fifty, and Miss G. s at a round hundred 
 thousand.) 
 
 In a few minutes the tickets were distributed, 
 "and Mr. Flirt proceeded to call, "No. i First 
 Cotillion," with most imposing majesty. Then 
 numbers 2, 3, and 4 of the same; then No. i of 
 the second, and so on. 
 
 Five sets of cotillions could occupy the floor at 
 a time, and Flirt had just called No. 2 of the fifth, 
 when Miss Rino entered the room, and immedi 
 ately afterwards Miss Gilt. Flirt had put two 
 supernumerary tickets in the hat, in anticipation 
 of their coming; and, forgetting everything else, 
 he suspended the calling, and rushed to deliver 
 them as soon as the ladies made their appearance. 
 
 He went to Miss Rino first as she entered first 
 
238 STORIES WITH A MORAL . 
 
 but she was obviously piqued at seeing the sets 
 on the floor before her arrival. She refused to 
 take a number, declaring (very sweetly) that she 
 left home with no idea of dancing. Flirt insisted, 
 earnestly and prettily, upon her taking a number ; 
 but she hesitated, looked in the hat, then looked at 
 Flirt bewitchingly, and declared she did not wish 
 to dance. 
 
 In the meantime Miss Gilt began to feel herself 
 slighted, and she said, in a pretty, audible tone, 
 that for her part, she would like very well to draw 
 a number if she could be permitted to do so. 
 Several gentlemen who had gathered around her 
 hastened to Flirt to remind him of the indignity 
 which he was offering to Miss Gilt ; but before they 
 reached him Miss Rino drew No. 3 of the fifth 
 cotillion from the hat. 
 
 Unfortunately, Crouch s patience had worn out 
 just before Miss R. made up her mind to take 
 a ticket and he took the office which Flirt had 
 abdicated. He called No. 3 twice, but the call 
 was not responded to. He then called No. 4, 
 when Miss Jones appeared and took her place. 
 He next called No. i of the sixth set, when a lady 
 appeared, which completed the cotillion. The 
 last lady had just taken her place when Miss Rino, 
 led on by Mr. Noozle, advanced, and announced 
 
THE BALL 239 
 
 that hers was No. 3 of the fifth set. Miss Jones 
 was instinctively retiring from the august pres 
 ence of Miss Rino when she was stopped by 
 Crouch with "Keep your place, Miss Jones; I 
 think you are entitled to it." 
 
 "Isn t this No. 3 of the fifth cotillion?" said 
 Miss Rino, holding out her ticket to Mr. Crouch. 
 
 "Yes, miss," said Crouch, "but I think it has 
 forfeited its place. Indeed, I do not think it was 
 even drawn when Miss Jones took her place." 
 
 This drew from Miss Rino the expression of 
 countenance which immediately precedes a 
 sneeze. 
 
 "Upon every principle of equity and justice," 
 said Mr. Noozle, "Miss Rino is entitled to " 
 
 "Music!" said Crouch. 
 
 "Hands round!" said the fiddler; and the whole 
 band struck into something like "The Dead 
 March." 
 
 "This matter shall not end here," said Noozle, 
 as he led Miss Rino back to her seat. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Noozle," returned Miss Rino, "don t 
 think anything of it ! I declare I had not the least 
 wish in the world to dance. Surely you would not 
 object to anything the polite and accomplished Mr. 
 Crouch would do!" 
 
 Noozle walked the floor in portentous abstrac- 
 
24 o STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 tion, wiped his face with terrific emphasis, and 
 knocked his hair back with the slap belligerent. 
 
 The ladies who were not dancing became 
 alarmed and sedate (Miss Gilt excepted) ; the 
 gentlemen collected in groups, and carried on an 
 animated conversation. As all but myself who 
 could give a correct version of the affair were 
 engaged in the dance, the Noozle party had 
 gained over to their side most of the company 
 present before the dance ended. After various 
 inquiries, rumors, and corrections, the company 
 generally settled down upon the following state 
 ment, as confirmed by the joint testimony of Rino, 
 Flirt, and Noozle: 
 
 "Crouch had an old spite against Miss Rino 
 for nothing at all; began cursing and abusing 
 her because she was not the first lady in the room ; 
 refused to wait two minutes for her arrival; as 
 soon as he saw her enter the ballroom, usurped 
 Mr. Flirt s appointment, and commenced calling 
 the numbers on purpose to cut her out. She, 
 seeing his object, snatched up a number and 
 rushed to her place; but it was occupied by Miss 
 Jones, who, seeing the superiority of her claims, 
 offered to give way, and was actually retiring 
 when Crouch seized her by the arm, jerked her 
 back, and said, Keep your place, miss! You re 
 
THE BALL 241 
 
 entitled to it, if Miss Rino has got the number; and 
 you shall have it. And when Mr. Noozle was 
 pleading with him just to look at Miss Rino s 
 ticket, he just turned upon his heel and called for 
 the music." This was all reported to Crouch, as 
 confirmed by the trio before mentioned. He 
 pronounced it all an infamous lie, from beginning 
 to end, and was with difficulty restrained from 
 going immediately after Flirt, to pick him up, as 
 he said, and wear him out upon Noozle. 
 
 As soon as the first cotillion ended, the Crouch 
 party began to gain ground; but not without 
 warm words between several gentlemen, and a 
 general depression of spirits through the company. 
 
 The dancing of the ladies was, with few excep 
 tions, much after the same fashion. I found not 
 the least difficulty in resolving it into the three 
 motions of a turkey-cock strutting, a sparrow- 
 hawk lighting, and a duck walking. Let the 
 reader suppose a lady beginning a strut at her 
 own place, and ending it (precisely as does the 
 turkey-cock) three feet nearer the gentleman op 
 posite her ; then giving three sparrow-hawk bobs, 
 and then waddling back to her place like a duck, 
 and he will have a pretty correct idea of their 
 dancing. Not that the three movements were 
 blended at every turn of the dance, but that one 
 
 16 
 
242 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 or more of the three answered to every turn. The 
 strut prevailed most in balancing ; the bobs, when 
 balanced to; and the waddle, when going round. 
 To all this Mrs. Mushy was an exception. When 
 she danced, every particle of her danced, in spite 
 of herself. 
 
 There was as little variety in the gentlemen s 
 dancing as there was in the ladies . Any one who 
 has seen a gentleman clean mud off his shoes on a 
 door-mat has seen nearly all of it ; the principal 
 difference being, that some scraped with a pull 
 of the foot, some with a push, and some with both. 
 
 "I suppose," said I to a gentleman, "they take 
 no steps because the music will not admit of 
 them?" 
 
 "Oh no," said he; "it s quite ungenteel to 
 take steps." I thought of the wag s remarks 
 about Miss Crump s music: "If this be their 
 dancing," thought I, "what must their mourning 
 be?" 
 
 A splendid supper was prepared at twelve 
 o clock, and the young ladies ate almonds, raisins, 
 apples, oranges, jelly, sillabub, custard, candy, 
 sugar-plums, kisses, and cake, as if they had been 
 owing them an old grudge. But the married 
 gentlemen did not come up to supper. 
 
 "And how did the quarrel end? " 
 
THE BALL 243 
 
 "Oh, I had like to have forgotten the denoue 
 ment of the quarrel!" 
 
 A correspondence opened the next morning 
 between the parties, in which Noozle was diffuse 
 and Crouch laconic. They once came this near 
 an amicable adjustment of the difference: Noo 
 zle s second (for the fashion is for the principals 
 to get into quarrels and for the seconds to get them 
 out) agreed if Crouch would strike the word "it" 
 out of one of his letters, his friend would be per 
 fectly satisfied. 
 
 Mr. Crouch s second admitted that the removal 
 of the word would not change the sense of the 
 letter the least, but that Mr. Crouch, having put 
 his life and character in his hands, he felt bound 
 to protect them with the most scrupulous fidelity ; 
 he could not, therefore, consent to expunge the 
 objectionable word unless the challenge were 
 withdrawn. To show, however, his reluctance to 
 the shedding of blood, and to acquit his friend, in 
 the eyes of the public, of all blame, he would take 
 it upon himself to say that if Mr. Noozle would 
 withdraw his objections to the "t," Mr. Crouch 
 should expunge the "i." This proposition was 
 rejected; but, in return, it was submitted that if 
 Mr. Crouch would expunge the "t," the "i" might 
 remain. To which it was replied that the altera- 
 
244 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 tion would convert the whole sentence into non 
 sense; making it read "i is" instead of "it is," 
 etc. Here the seconds separated, and soon after 
 the principals met; and Crouch shot Noozle, in 
 due form and according to the latest fashion, 
 through the knees. I went to see him after he had 
 received his wound, and, poor fellow, he suffered 
 dreadful tortures. So much, said I, for a young 
 lady s lingering from a ball an hour too long, in 
 order to make herself conspicuous, and not en 
 deavoring to adjust matters ere they went too far. 
 
X. 
 
 WILLIAM MITTEN AT SCHOOL. 
 
 Many years ago there lived in a small village in 
 the State of Georgia, a pious widow, who was left 
 with an only son and two daughters. She was in 
 easy circumstances and managed her temporal 
 concerns with great prudence, so that her estate 
 increased with her years. Her son exhibited, at 
 a very early age, great precocity of genius, and the 
 mother lost no opportunity of letting the world 
 know it. When he was but six years old he had 
 committed little pieces in prose and poetry, 
 which he delivered with remarkable propriety for 
 his years. He knew as much of the scriptures as 
 any child of that age probably ever knew, and he 
 had already made some progress in geography and 
 mental arithmetic. With all this, he was a very 
 handsome boy. It is not to be wondered at that 
 his mother should be bringing him out in some 
 department of science, upon all occasions; of 
 course, she often brought him out upon very 
 unsuitable occasions, and sometimes kept him 
 
 (245) 
 
24 6 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 out greatly to the annoyance of her company. 
 Not to praise his performances would have been 
 discouraging to Master William Mitten, and very 
 mortifying to his mother; accordingly, whether 
 they were well-timed or ill-timed, everybody 
 praised them. The ladies, all of whom loved Mrs. 
 Mitten, were not unfrequently thrown into rap 
 tures at the child s exhibitions. They would 
 snatch him up in their arms, kiss him, pronounce 
 him a perfect prodigy both in beauty of person 
 and power of mind, and declare that they would 
 be willing to go beggars upon the world to have 
 such a child. Others would piously exhort Mrs. 
 Mitten not to set her heart too much upon the 
 child. "They never saw the little creature with 
 out commingled emotions of delight and alarm ; so 
 often is it the case that children of such wonder 
 ful gifts die early." Her brother, Capt. David 
 Thomson, a candid, plain-dealing, excellent man, 
 often reproved Mrs. Mitten for parading, as he 
 called it, "her child upon all occasions." 
 
 "Anna," said he, "you will stuff your child so 
 full of pride and vanity and make him so pert and 
 forward that there will be no living with him. 
 From an object of admiration he will soon become 
 an object of detestation." 
 
 "No danger, brother no danger," she would 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT SCHOOL 247 
 
 reply, " I take special care to guard him against 
 these vices. " 
 
 At eight years of age, William was placed under 
 the instruction of Miss Smith, the teacher of a 
 female school into which small boys were ad 
 mitted by courtesy. Here he continued until his 
 tenth year, when Miss Smith told his mother that 
 he was getting too old to remain in her school, and 
 that she could keep him no longer. Here Miss 
 Smith whispered something to Mrs. Mitten which 
 drew a smile from her, but which has ever remained 
 a secret between them. It took about the time 
 to deliver it that it would take to say: "the truth 
 is, he is too pretty and too smart to be in a female 
 school." 
 
 William being now out of employment, his 
 mother took six months to deliberate as to what 
 was next to be done with him ; and in the mean 
 time she sent him in the country to stay with his 
 grandmother. On his return she determined to 
 place him under the tuition of Mr. Markham, one 
 of the best of men, and best of instructors. Ac 
 cordingly, she conducted him to the school-room 
 of his second preceptor. 
 
 "You will find him, Mr. Markham," said Mrs. 
 Mitten as she delivered over her son to the teacher s 
 charge, " easy to lead but hard to drive. " 
 
248 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 "If that be the case, Madam," said Mr. Mark- 
 ham, " I fear that your son will not do well under 
 my government. " 
 
 " Why, surely, Mr. Markham, you don t prefer 
 driving to leading." 
 
 " By no means, Madam by no means. I much 
 prefer leading; but no child of his age can be 
 always led. Withal, a teacher must govern by 
 fixed rules, which cannot be relaxed in favor of 
 one of his pupils without rendering them worth 
 less or unjust to all the rest. " 
 
 This took Mrs. Mitten a little by surprise; for 
 she supposed that Mr. Markham would be proud 
 of such an accession to his school as William. 
 She acquiesced, however, in the soundness of his 
 views; but flattering herself "that he would never 
 find it necessary to drive William, " she turned him 
 over to the teacher and withdrew. 
 
 William made his debut at school in a dress 
 which was rather tawdry for Sunday, and extrav 
 agant for the school-room. The first ten or 
 fifteen minutes were spent by William and the 
 school boys in interchanging looks of admiration, 
 which Mr. Markham indulged, under pretense of 
 not observing. At length a pretty general titter 
 began to run through the school at William s 
 expense. Mr. Markham now interposed, with a 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT SCHOOL 249 
 
 sternness that instantly brought all to order but 
 William, who tittered in turn at divers persons 
 and things. But this Mr. Markham happened not 
 to notice . The object of William s special regards 
 and amusement was John Brown, whose clothes 
 seemed to have been made of remnants of old 
 bed-quilts, so numerous and particolored were 
 their patches. John s attitude was as curious as 
 his dress ; he seemed to have derived it from 
 the neck of a crane at rest. His head was flat 
 and bushy, his feet were large and black, and his 
 face bore a marked resemblance to that of a 
 leather-winged bat. In all his life, William had 
 never seen exactly such a thing as this; and he 
 laughed at it without stint and without disguise. 
 John soon became indignant, and raising his book 
 between his face and the teacher, he set his 
 mouth to going as if repeating all the vowels 
 and consonants of the alphabet in quick time, 
 and shook his fist at William with a quiver of 
 awful portent. According to the masonry of the 
 school-room, these signs meant : " Never mind, old 
 fellow, as soon as school s out Til make you laugh 
 t other side of the mouth." 
 
 "Come here, sir," said Markham, who always 
 saw more than he seemed to see. " Who are you 
 shaking your fist at, sir?" 
 
2 5 o STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 "Mr. Markham, that fellow keeps laughing at 
 me, sir." 
 
 "And didn t you laugh at him first?" 
 
 " I I laughed at him a little bit ; but he keeps 
 at it all the time. He don t do no thin else but 
 keep on laughmg at me all the time. " 
 
 " Well, if you laugh at other people you must let 
 them laugh at you ; and now, sir, go to your seat, 
 and if I catch you shaking your fist at anybody in 
 school hours again, or using it upon anybody after 
 wards, who has only paid laugh with laugh, I ll 
 shake you." 
 
 There was a little spice of equity here that John 
 had entirely overlooked; and he went to his seat 
 much cooler than might have been expected. 
 
 " Come here, William ! " continued the preceptor. 
 William did not move; and the whole school was 
 electrified at disobedience to Mr. Markham s 
 orders. 
 
 "Come here, William!" repeated Mr. Markham, 
 but with no better success. Whereupon he rose 
 and commenced "leading" him, in quick time, to 
 his seat. Having stationed him by it he said to 
 him: "William, I know you have been indulged 
 so much that you hardly know the duty of sub 
 mission to your teacher s orders, or I would correct 
 you for not coming to me when I called you. You 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT SCHOOL 251 
 
 must do as I tell you ; and I tell you now to quit 
 laughing and get your lesson you, John Brown, 
 are you tittering again already ? Put down your 
 feet and come here, sir!" Here Mr. Markham, 
 by way of parenthesis, gave John three cuts, 
 which sounded like a whip-poor-will, and made 
 him dance a jig, a minuet and a polka, all in less 
 than a minute. He retired crying, and limping, 
 and rubbing, and shaking his bushy head like a 
 muscovy drake in a pet, and Mr. Markham pro 
 ceeded: "I tell you, William, you must obey 
 me" 
 
 "Yes, sir," said William, pale as a sheet. 
 
 " I can have no little boys with me who won t 
 do as I tell them" 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 " If you will be a good boy, and mind your book 
 and your teacher, you need not be afraid of me. 
 Go now and take your seat, and quit laughing 
 and get your lesson. " 
 
 William obeyed promptly, and hardly took his 
 eyes from his book until the school was dismissed. 
 
 During the recess he begged his mother to take 
 him away from Mr. Markham s school. He said 
 Mr. Markham whipped his scholars, and he " didn t 
 want to go to a man that whipped children." 
 
 "But," said his mother, "you must be a good 
 
2 5 2 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 boy, and then he will not whip you. I ve entered 
 you now, and paid your first quarter s schooling, 
 and you must go to the end of the quarter. " 
 
 William returned to school, and for several 
 weeks did remarkably well. He was put in a 
 class with George Markham, son of the preceptor, a 
 promising youth, but equal to William in nothing 
 but attention to his studies. As William could get 
 his lessons in half the time allowed him for this 
 purpose, he soon began to neglect them until the 
 last moment from which he could commit them, 
 and then to some time beyond the moment ; and 
 here was the beginning of his bad luck. As he 
 grew remiss, Mr. Markham counseled him, lec 
 tured him, and threatened him ; but all to no pur 
 pose. At length he told him that the next time 
 he came to recite without knowing his esson, he 
 would correct him. This alarmed William a good 
 deal; but not quite enough to stimulate his in 
 dustry to continued exertion; and after ten or 
 fifteen lessons he came up deficient again. 
 
 "Why have you not got this lesson, sir?" said 
 Mr. Markham with terrific sternness. 
 
 "I I was sick, sir." 
 
 This was William s first falsehood ; but it saved 
 him from a whipping which he awfully dreaded; 
 for though Mr. Markham knew that he had not 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT SCHOOL 253 
 
 told the truth, he deemed it best to admit the 
 excuse, at least so far as to withhold the rod of 
 correction for the present. 
 
 As he dismissed the school, he told William to 
 remain a few moments, and when they were alone 
 he thus addressed him: 
 
 " William, I very much fear you told me a false 
 hood to-day. I saw you all the morning, before 
 you came to recite, idling, and whispering, without 
 any appearance of sickness; and since the recita 
 tion I have seen no sign of sickness about you. 
 Still, I may possibly be mistaken, and I hope I am ; 
 but remember, if ever I find you telling a lie to hide 
 your faults, I will punish you more severely than 
 I would without the lie. " He then proceeded to 
 counsel him kindly and affectionately against the 
 danger of lying. 
 
 William went home in sadness and in tears, for 
 his conscience gave him no rest. His mother 
 sought in vain for the cause of his distress. The 
 next day he went to the school and acquitted 
 himself well for that and the four succeeding days, 
 for which Mr. Markham gave him great credit and 
 encouragement. On the fifth day he got per 
 mission to go out, and as he remained out an 
 unusually long time, Mr. Markham went in quest 
 of him, and found him in the act of concealing his 
 
254 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 book among some rubbish near the school -house. 
 He was unobserved by William, and he withdrew 
 to the school-room. Just before recitation hour, 
 William made his appearance. What he had been 
 doing during his absence was not known ; but that 
 he had not been studying was manifest from his 
 conduct, and still more manifest from his ignor 
 ance of the lesson when he came to recite. 
 
 " What have you been doing, William, " said Mr. 
 Markham, " that you know nothing of this lesson?" 
 "I lost my book, sir, and I couldn t find it." 
 Mr. Markham passed the matter over until he 
 dismissed his school, when he detained William, 
 told him where his book was, repeated his lecture 
 upon lying, and enforced it with a pretty severe 
 flogging. William had never experienced the like 
 of that before, and probably would never have 
 experienced it again but for the imprudence of his 
 mother and her friends. He promised his pre 
 ceptor that he would never repeat his offense; 
 and he went home with a countenance and manner 
 indicative of a fixed purpose to keep his promise. 
 He told his mother nothing of what had happened, 
 nor did she find it out for four days afterwards. 
 In the meantime, William was all that she or his 
 preceptor could wish him to be. It so happened, 
 however, that Thomas Nokes had lingered about 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT SCHOOL 255 
 
 the school-house, and seen all that had transpired 
 between William and his teacher. He went home 
 where he found Mrs. Glib, one of Mrs. Mitten s 
 most devoted friends as she proved, by carrying 
 to her all news that was likely to affect her peace. 
 Mrs. Glib had stopped on her way to her brother s 
 in the country to bid Mrs. Nokes farewell, and had 
 actually risen to depart, when Tom stepped in, 
 big with the events of the day. 
 
 "I tell you what," said.he, " Mr. Markham give 
 Bill Mitten jorum, to-day." 
 
 "It isn t possible," exclaimed Mrs. Glib, "that 
 Mr. Markham has whipped that dear, sweet, 
 lovely boy." 
 
 Mrs. Nokes tried to catch Tom s eye, that she 
 might stop him; but his whole attention was 
 directed to Mrs. Glib, and he went on 
 
 " Yes, he did and he licked it into him like 
 flugins. I ll be bound he made the blood come. " 
 
 Here Tom caught his mother s eye, which was 
 darting lightnings at him, and he concluded, " but I 
 don t reckon he hurt him much, though!" 
 
 " Oh, the brute ! " muttered Mrs. Glib, as she left 
 the house for the carriage. 
 
 On the afternoon of the fourth day from her 
 departure, she returned to the village, and immedi 
 ately hastened over to Mrs. Mitten s. Mrs. Mitten 
 
25 6 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 met her at the door very cheerfully, and very 
 cordially. 
 
 "Oh," ejaculated Mrs. Glib, "how happy I am 
 to find you so cheerful ! I was afraid I should find 
 you in tears." 
 
 " In tears! For what?" 
 
 "Why, for the unmerciful beating which Mr. 
 Markham gave to your dear, sweet, lovely little 
 William, last Friday. " 
 
 "Surely there must be some mistake, Mrs. 
 Glib. William never said a word to me about it ; 
 and not fifteen minutes before you came in, Mr. 
 Markham was here congratulating me on the 
 progress my child was making in everything that 
 was good. " 
 
 Here Mrs. Glib looked as if she had taken an 
 emetic which was just about to operate ; and after 
 a short pause, she proceeded: 
 
 " Well, I hope it is a mistake; but it came to me 
 from an eye witness. You know I don t send my 
 children to Mr. Markham because I don t choose to 
 have my children cut and slashed about like galley- 
 slaves, for every little childish error they commit 
 breaking down their spirit, and teaching them 
 sneaking and lying, and everything that s low and 
 mean. Mr. Toper never whips ; and I don t see but 
 that my children get along under him as well as 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT SCHOOL 257 
 
 other people s children." (Here Mrs. Mitten 
 covered her face with her handkerchief, either 
 to hide her grief or a smile which grief could not 
 extinguish, or blushes of conscience for she had 
 warned her son against ever associating with the 
 Glibs.) "But you know how strict Mrs. Nokes 
 is with her children; one of them would as soon 
 put his head in the fire as tell a lie specially before 
 her. Well, Thomas told me, right in her presence, 
 that Markham whipped William till he drew the 
 blood from him!" 
 
 "Mercy on me!" groaned Mrs. Mitten, "why 
 didn t William tell me of it?" 
 
 " Oh, that is easily accounted for. My George 
 Washington Alexander Augustus says that John 
 Brown told him, that if anybody went to carrying 
 tales out of Mr. Markham s school, he d make em 
 dance juba. Poor William dare not tell of it. 
 John said, moreover, that Markham dragged him 
 from his seat the first day that he went to school, 
 and would have whipped him then, if he had 
 been in school a little longer." 
 
 " I fear, " said Mrs. Mitten, with streaming eyes, 
 "that I offended Mr. Markham when I placed 
 William under him, by telling him that William 
 was easy to lead but hard to drive. He immedi 
 ately showed some reluctance at receiving him. 
 
 17 
 
STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 But I only meant to apprise him of the child s 
 disposition. Poor child, with all his talents, I 
 fear he is doomed to bad luck." 
 
 "Oh, no, madam; I can explain the matter 
 better than that. George Markham was given up 
 on all hands to be the smartest boy in school. 
 Now everybody knew what a prodigy William was, 
 and old Markham knew that as soon as William 
 entered the school, his beloved darling, precious 
 George, would have to come down a notch. All 
 the boys say that William is smarter than George, 
 and yet that old Markham is always pecking at 
 him. Who can t see the reason?" 
 
 Just at this moment William made his appear 
 ance with a bright and joyous face; and holding 
 up a most beautiful edition of Sanford and Merton. 
 " See, ma, " said he, " what Mr. Markham gave me 
 to-day for keeping head of George three days. 
 And he says if I ll keep head of him eight days 
 more, he ll give me a book worth twice as much, 
 and I mean to do it, too. " 
 
 " What hypocrisy! " exclaimed Mrs. Glib. "He s 
 got wind of it!" 
 
 "William," said his mother, "did Mr. Mark- 
 ham whip you last Friday?" In an instant his 
 countenance fell, and his eyes filled. 
 
 "Yes, ma am," whispered William. "But I 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT SCHOOL 259 
 
 don t think he will whip me again, for I mean to 
 be a good boy." 
 
 "Poor, blessed, little innocent angel-lamb!" 
 sighed forth Mrs. Glib with honest sympathy. 
 
 "And haven t you always been a good boy, my 
 son?" 
 
 "Ye-e-sm m." 
 
 "Then what did he whip you for?" 
 
 "He said I told a lie, and wouldn t get my 
 lesson!" 
 
 "Oh, shocking, shocking worse and worse!" 
 vociferated Mrs. Glib. "I d stake my salvation 
 on it, that child never told an untruth in all his 
 life." 
 
 It was very unlucky for William that Mrs. Glib 
 made this remark, and still more unlucky that his 
 mother did not suspend her examination here 
 until Mrs. Glib retired. 
 
 "William, it would break my heart to discover 
 that you had told a lie ; but if you have told one, 
 confess it, my child, to your mother!" 
 
 William paused and pondered, as well he might, 
 for having Mrs. Glib s salvation and his mother s 
 heart in one eye, and Mr. Markham s awful lie- 
 physic in the other, he was in the most perplexing 
 dilemma. 
 
 " Don t you see, Mrs. Mitten, that the child is 
 
2 6o STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 actually afraid to deny that he told a lie? He 
 knows that if it gets to Markham s ears that he 
 denied it, he d beat him to death. Didn t he whip 
 you very severely, William?" 
 
 "Yes, ma am." 
 
 "Where did he whip you?" 
 
 11 On the calf of my legs. " 
 
 11 Well, now, do let us examine them! I lay the 
 marks of the whip are upon them to this day. " 
 
 William s pants were rolled up, and at the first 
 glance, his legs seemed as white and as spotless as 
 pure alabaster. But a glance did not satisfy Mrs. 
 Glib. She was confident that William had 
 received "jorum, " and that marks of it might yet 
 be found. Accordingly, she put on her specs and 
 squatted down to a close examination of William s 
 legs, beginning at the left. 
 
 11 Look here, Mrs. Mitten, " said she, after a short 
 search, "isn t this the mark of a whip?" 
 
 "N-no, " said Mrs. Mitten carelessly, "I believe 
 it s nothing but a vein." 
 
 " It s no vein, my word for it ; it s too straight 
 for a vein. I m told that whip-marks, just before 
 they disappear, can hardly be distinguished from 
 
 veins." 
 
 Proceeding from the left leg to the right, she 
 examined for some time with no better success. 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT SCHOOL 261 
 
 At length, however, on the right side of the limb, 
 she found the palpable marks of "jorum." For 
 reasons that need not be given, I hold myself 
 perfectly competent to explain this matter with 
 unquestionable accuracy. Jorum is always ad 
 ministered with a scarificator ; and in receiving it, 
 it is almost impossible for the patient to keep his 
 legs still. The consequence sometimes is, that the 
 scarificator, which is made and intended to act 
 simultaneously and equally upon both limbs, 
 hardly scratches one, while it spends all its force 
 (double force) upon the other. William had obvi 
 ously "danced juba" under the operation, and in 
 three of his movements he had so distracted the 
 instrument that the end of it pressed much harder 
 upon the flesh in these places than the operator 
 intended, and of course it left its most permanent 
 mark where it pressed hardest. Nor is it true, as 
 Mrs. Glib was informed, that its mark retires in 
 likeness to a vein, but with a greenish, straw-color, 
 as the case before her proved. 
 
 Mrs. Glib had no sooner discovered these marks, 
 than she went through divers evolutions of horror, 
 better suited to the Inquisition than to this occa 
 sion. At length she became composed enough to 
 speak. 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. Mitten, see what your dear, lovely, 
 
262 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 brilliant boy has suffered. Think of when it 
 was done!" 
 
 Mrs. Mitten looked, and burst into tears afresh. 
 Just at this point, her daughters made their ap 
 pearance, and the matter being explained to them, 
 they burst into tears; and William seeing his 
 mother and sisters weeping, he burst into tears. 
 In the midst of this affecting scene, David Thom 
 son, Mrs. Mitten s brother, made his appearance, 
 and he didn t burst into tears. 
 
 "Why, what s the matter what s to pay?" 
 enquired he, with no little alarm. 
 
 The ladies all answered at once, with different 
 degrees of exaggeration, but all to the same point, 
 mainly, that Markham had beaten William most 
 unmercifully. 
 
 "Why, nothing seems to be the matter with 
 him, that I can see. " 
 
 " Look at his legs. " 
 
 "Well, I see nothing the matter with his legs." 
 
 "Look at his right leg!" 
 
 "Well, I see nothing the matter with his leg." 
 
 "Look on the right side of his right leg." 
 
 "Well, I see nothing on the right side of the 
 right leg." 
 
 "Look here, Mr. Thomson," said Mrs. Glib, 
 "bend down a little do you see these marks?" 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT SCHOOL 263 
 
 " Psh-e-e-e-t! Why surely you have all run 
 crazy! Is it possible you re making all this fuss 
 over these three little specks?" 
 
 " Those specks, as you call them, brother, are the 
 remains of what was put on my child s tender 
 flesh four days ago." 
 
 " And have you all just made up your minds to 
 cry about it?" 
 
 " We did not know of it, Brother David, before." 
 
 "Why, didn t William tell you of it?" 
 
 "No, poor child, he hardly dare talk about it 
 now. He is completely cowed. Since he went 
 to school he seems to have been buried; nobody 
 notices, or speaks of the child, any more than if 
 he were dead." 
 
 " Yes, there it is ! You have been feasting upon 
 his praises so long, that you cannot live without 
 them. What did Markham whip him for?" 
 
 " The charge was, telling a lie and neglecting his 
 lessons." 
 
 "Well, are you sure he did not tell a lie?" 
 
 " Oh, brother, how can you ask such a question 
 right before the child s face? Yes, I m just as sure 
 of it as I can be of anything. I never detected 
 William in a lie in all my life. " 
 
 "No, nor you never will, the way you are 
 going on, if he told a thousand. Now, if Mark- 
 
264 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 ham whipped him for lying, I ll vouch for it, he 
 told a lie, and Markham knew it; for he never 
 moves without seeing his way clear." 
 
 " I think he has a prejudice- against William, and 
 I think I know the reason of it." 
 
 " Prej udice ! He s incapable of prejudice against 
 anybody, much less against little silly children. 
 I ll go over and see him, and learn the whole truth 
 of the matter." 
 
 "No, you needn t trouble yourself, brother; I 
 shall not send William to school to him any longer." 
 
 " Why, Anna, you surely are not going to take 
 your child from school without hearing from Mr. 
 Markham the particulars of this matter!" 
 
 " I don t want any particulars, more than my 
 own eyes have seen. Suppose the child actually 
 did tell a lie (which nobody who knows him will 
 believe), it wouldn t justify Mr. Markham in beat 
 ing him to death. " 
 
 " Beating him to death? He s certainly a very 
 natural looking corpse! And when you take him 
 from school, what are you going to do with 
 him?" 
 
 " I d rather send him to Mr. Toper, than have 
 him cut and slashed to pieces by Markham." 
 
 "Toper! What, that drunken booby, who 
 hardly knows B from bull s foot." 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT SCHOOL 265 
 
 "Good morning, ladies!" said Mrs. Glib, "good 
 morning, Captain Thomson." 
 
 " Why, brother! How could you talk so of Mr. 
 Toper? Don t you know that Mrs. Glib sends her 
 children to him? She ll go right off and tell him 
 what you said." 
 
 "No, I don t know, nor don t care where she 
 sends them. All I know about them is, that 
 Toper is a drunken fool, and that her children are 
 perfect nuisances to the town; and that if you 
 mean to send your child to the devil, Toper is 
 the very man to carry him for you. Mrs. Glib 
 may tell him all this too, if she chooses; and then, 
 if he opens his mouth to me about the matter, 
 I ll kick him out of the town, as a public charity. 
 
 " I only said I had rather send my child to 
 Mr. Toper than to have him beaten so. I think I 
 shall employ a private tutor." 
 
 " And pay ten times as much as is needful for 
 your child s instruction; and then have him not 
 half as well taught as he will be by Markham ! 
 Anna, I beseech you, I implore you for your child s 
 sake, don t act at all in this matter under your 
 present feelings. Let the matter rest until I can 
 see Markham and learn the whole history of it. 
 I know more of boys than you do. They do many 
 things at school that they never do at home, for 
 
266 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 the plain reason that they are under many tempta 
 tions at school which they are not under at home. 
 You are probably now at the turning point oi 
 your child s destiny, and one false step may ruin 
 him forever." 
 
 Strange to tell, William listened to his uncle 
 with a kind of approving amazement, and as soon 
 as he had concluded, said : 
 
 "Ma, I m willing to go back to Mr. Markham 
 now; I a nt afraid of him; I don t think he ll 
 ever whip me again." 
 
 "That s a brave boy," said the Captain. 
 "Every word in the sentence is worth a guinea. 
 No good boy fears Mr. Markham." 
 
 "Ah, poor child!" said Mrs. Mitten "he knows 
 little of the world s duplicity. He little dreams 
 of the undercurrent that is at work against him." 
 
 "What undercurrent? Is it possible, Anna, 
 that after nine years acquaintance with Markham 
 you can suspect him of duplicity and secret 
 hostility to such a child as that your child my 
 nephew!" 
 
 "Mr. Markham s not perfection, if what I ve 
 heard of him is true," said Miss Jane. 
 
 "No," said Miss Ann, "and if I was ma, I d die 
 before I d send Brother William back to him to be 
 beaten like a dog." 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT SCHOOL 267 
 
 "And if I was ma I d learn you to hold your 
 tongues till your counsel was asked for." 
 
 " Oh, do, brother, let the girls express, their 
 opinions. I should suppose that one might have 
 an opinion of even Mr. Markharn without hav 
 ing their heads snapped off." 
 
 " Well, Anna, I see your mind is made up to take 
 William from Mr. Markham s school." 
 
 " Yes, I m resolved upon it. " 
 
 "And without one word of explanation from 
 Mr. Markham!" 
 
 "Yes; I want none of his explanations." 
 
 " Ma, " said William, " let me go back to the end 
 of the quarter." 
 
 " Bravo, Bill ! Go back, my son be a good boy 
 and learn your book, and you ll be a noble fellow 
 by and by. " 
 
 " Brother David, do you think it right to en 
 courage a poor little ignorant child to run counter 
 to his mother s wishes?" 
 
 "No, Anna; but I supposed that the wishes of 
 the child in whom you are so wrapped up might 
 save you from rash resolutions concerning him." 
 
 " Well, it is not necessary to debate the matter 
 further. I vow he never shall go back to Mr. 
 Markham s school, and that is the long and short 
 of it. " 
 
268. STORIES WITH A MORAi. 
 
 Captain Thomson wheeled off and left the 
 house as if to get something of importance that he 
 had left in a dangerous place. In about half an 
 hour he returned. 
 
 "Well," said he, "I have seen Markham, and 
 heard the whole matter explained." 
 
 And he gave it from first to last, just as it 
 occurred. Still Mrs. Mitten adhered to her resolu- 
 
 
 
 tion. He argued, he entreated, he implored, he 
 forewarned, he remonstrated, he used every means 
 that he could think of to change her mind, but to 
 no purpose. The truth is, Mrs. Mitten would not 
 place her son where he was liable to be whipped. 
 Her brother left in a storm. 
 
 I have been thus particular in giving this part of 
 William s history because it proved in the end, as 
 the sequel will show, to be remarkably unlucky, 
 and fruitful of wonderful consequences. 
 
 The reader will remember that we left Mrs. 
 Mitten resolved to remove Master William from 
 Mr. Markham s school. Her resolution was car 
 ried into effect; and she forthwith began to look 
 out for a private teacher for her son. But 
 unluckily no such teacher was just then to be 
 found; she was constrained, therefore, to adver 
 tise for one; and though she placed her adver 
 tisement in three gazettes, of pretty general 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT SCHOOL 269 
 
 circulation, three months rolled away before any 
 one proffered his services to Master William. In 
 the meantime our little hero was a gentleman at 
 large; and having formed many acquaintances at 
 school, common courtesy required that he should 
 give them as much of his attention as he could. 
 Accordingly he was with them at every inter 
 mission of their studies, and took great pleasure 
 in attending the evening parties of such as were 
 smart enough to do without evening study. These 
 soon became so frequent that William entirely 
 neglected his mother s parties for them; by means 
 whereof his mother and her friends lost the enter 
 tainment which he used to afford them upon such 
 occasions. She often demanded of him expla 
 nations of his discourtesy to his old admirers, 
 which he promptly gave to her entire satisfaction. 
 Sometimes he was at the Juvenile Debating So 
 ciety; at others he was at a prayer meeting; at 
 one time he "went to hear Parson Deleth s lec 
 ture" (On the Importance of the Oriental Lan 
 guages to the Student of Theology). At another 
 he went to hear the Euterpean band; and at all 
 other times he was taking tea with good boys, or 
 engaged in some laudable employment. As the 
 young Glibs had rather more leisure than any 
 other boys in town, and as their mother had 
 
2 70 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 charged them to cultivate a close acquaintance 
 with Master William, they were frequently thrown 
 together. At first William was rather shy of those 
 acquaintances; but as they forced themselves 
 into his company, pleading their mother s order 
 for so doing, he could not well refuse to take them 
 under his moral training. Accordingly they soon 
 became very intimate ; and William was pleased to 
 find that they were by no means as bad boys as 
 his mother took them to be. Withal he soon 
 discovered that they were possessed of a vast 
 fund of information, which they communicated 
 to him freely; first to his astonishment, and after 
 wards to his delight. They knew who had the 
 best apples, peaches, plums, cherries and melons 
 in the town and neighborhood what gardens con 
 tained the most strawberries, raspberries, grapes, 
 figs and pomegranates who had the earliest and 
 latest fruits what time bad dogs were turned 
 loose at night where hens, guinea-chickens, ducks 
 and turkeys were in the habit of laying. They 
 were masters of all culinary matters except the 
 higher branches of cookery. Nor were these 
 young gentlemen without personal accomplish 
 ments, corresponding with their vast mental en 
 dowments. They were the most expert climbers 
 of trees and fences in the country. They were 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT SCHOOL 271 
 
 good riders and better runners. Though one of 
 them was two months, another fifteen and another 
 thirty-seven months older than William, they 
 could slip through gaps that he feared to attempt. 
 They could heel a game-cock, whet a jack-knife, 
 and shoot a pistol with unrivaled skill their age 
 considered. They could recognize people in the 
 dark with the eye of an owl ; and run half -bent in 
 guttei L~ d ditches, faster than William could, on 
 a pla_i . They could perform many amusing and 
 ingenious tricks with cards; and smoke segars, 
 chew tobacco and drink cordial, apple-toddy, 
 egg-nog and the like, with marvelous grace and 
 impunity. 
 
 At the end of three or four weeks from the time 
 that William left school, Mr. Markham s examina 
 tion came off, and most of the town attended it. 
 The visitors were, as usual, liberal in their praises 
 of such as did well; and these, William, who was 
 present, heard with painful emotions. They were 
 praises which made his tea-party compliments 
 seem insignificant. Here was competition, and 
 not one was praised, of whom he did not know 
 himself to be decidedly the superior. The exam 
 ination closed with an allotment of prizes to the 
 best in the several classes, by judges appointed 
 for that purpose. William saw one and another 
 
2 7 2 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 distributed with increasing dejection and self- 
 reproach. At length George Markham was called 
 out on the stage, and Judge Dawson advancing to 
 him with a large silver medal, suspended by a 
 crimson ribbon with tasteful decorations, observed :: 
 " Master George, in the course of the examination 
 you have labored under some disadvantages; for 
 the judges, from an apprehension that their high 
 respect for your teacher might be unconsciously 
 transferred to his son, have been more vigilant 
 of inaccuracies in you than in any of your school 
 mates. So well have you acquitted yourself, 
 however, that you have entirely relieved us from 
 all apprehension of doing you injustice on either 
 hand, and we presume there will not be a dissent 
 ing voice in this large and respectable assembly, 
 to our judgment, which awards to you the first 
 honor in your class; in token of which we present 
 you this beautiful medal. Remember," con 
 tinued Judge Dawson, as he placed the loop of 
 the ribbon over the head of Master George, and 
 dropped the medal on his breast "remember as 
 often as you look upon that medal, that on the day 
 you received it, you raised the highest expecta 
 tions of your future distinction, and resolved never 
 to disappoint them. " As the Judge concluded, the 
 house thundered with applause. William dropped 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT SCHOOL 273 
 
 his head and wept bitterly ; for he felt that all this 
 would have been his had he remained at school. 
 
 In the afternoon the usual exhibition came off. 
 We may not dwell upon the performances of each 
 of the students respectively. For reasons which 
 will be hereafter observed, we notice but two. 
 
 The fourth speaker called out was Master John 
 Brown. John stepped out so completely metamor 
 phosed that William himself hardly knew him. 
 His hair was combed down straight and slick. 
 The lard-gourd had obviously been laid under 
 contributions for it. His feet were disguised under 
 shoes and stockings. His suit was all new and of 
 course all of one color. His mother had tried 
 herself upon it from the spinning of the first thread 
 to the fitting of it on. But nature had decreed 
 that John should be a funny looking fellow in 
 spite of dress ; and as he stepped to the centre of 
 the stage, as if laboring under a slight founder (for 
 shoes manifestly pestered him), an involuntary 
 smile diffused itself over every countenance. He 
 made his bow, and in a clear, distinctly audible 
 voice he began: 
 
 "Ladies and Gentlemen: You will not be sur 
 prised that I should have selected as my theme for 
 your entertainment this afternoon the incalculable 
 advantages of personal beauty." 
 
 is 
 
274 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 Here it seemed that the house would be knocked 
 to pieces. Men, women and children laughed and 
 thumped immoderately; and even Mr. Markham 
 could not preserve his usual gravity. Mrs. 
 Brown plainly showed that her trouble in rigging 
 out John was repaid by the very first sentence. 
 With almost every other, the same scene was 
 renewed; until at length all respect for order 
 seemed to be forgotten ; and such commendations 
 as these might be heard in undertones all over the 
 house : Well done, flat-head ! " " Hurrah , short- 
 neck I " " Bravo, pug-nose ! " "I tell you stiff-leg is 
 some!" "Give me homespun at last." John con 
 cluded, and had it been allowable, he, doubtless, 
 would have been encored at least three times. 
 He owed most of his credit to the patient and care 
 ful drilling of his teacher, but there were few in 
 the school who could have improved good drilling 
 as well as John did. 
 
 Next to John s speech, the most amusing thing 
 in the exhibition was a dialogue between George 
 Markham and David Thomson, which elicited 
 great applause. At the conclusion of the exer 
 cises, honors were a second time distributed, and 
 young Markham was again complimented with a 
 prize. Brown got one, of course, which was ren 
 dered doubly complimentary, by another peal of 
 applause as he received it. 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT SCHOOL 275 
 
 All this was slow murder to William Mitten. 
 Nor did his tortures end here. Seeing his uncle 
 and Mr. Markham in conversation as the company 
 retired, he flattered himself that they were nego 
 tiating for his return to school, and he drew near 
 to them unobserved by either, and overheard this 
 conversation : 
 
 " That little fellow Brown is an odd looking fish, 
 Mr. Markham, but there s some gumption in him 
 after all." 
 
 " He s rough material to polish, but he has some 
 talent ; and if he can be made to study, he may be 
 a man of worth yet. " 
 
 " I congratulate you on the very handsome 
 manner in which your son acquitted himself in 
 everything." 
 
 "He may thank Mrs. Mitten for his honors of 
 to-day, for had she suffered her son to remain at 
 school, George would not have touched a single 
 honor. When William studied (and he had begun 
 to study well) he was vastly superior to George in 
 everything. The dialogue was written on purpose 
 to show off his wonderful dramatic talent. 
 George s part was designed for him, and your son s 
 for George ; and I ll venture to say, that I can take 
 William and read over the part to him but once, 
 and he will perform it decidedly better than George 
 
276 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 did. He spoke before me but three or four times 
 while he was with me. The first time, I read over 
 his piece to him after he had repeated it, and 
 made him deliver it again; and I was amazed to 
 see how exactly he followed my reading in every 
 respect. Take him altogether, I think he is de 
 cidedly the smartest boy I ever had in my school. " 
 Here the conversation was interrupted by the 
 congratulations of several other gentlemen. 
 
 William went home in tortures, and hardly slept 
 a wink that night. He would have given the 
 world for the honors and praises which George 
 Markham had received that day; and he would 
 have been willing to have changed persons with 
 John Brown, for the trophies which John had won. 
 
 The next morning he recounted to his mother all 
 the events of the day, and particularly the conver 
 sation which he had heard between his uncle and 
 Mr. Markham. She was now stung nearly or 
 quite as deeply as her son. But what could she 
 do? Her vow was out and it must be kept. 
 
 "Well, my child," said she despondingly, "all 
 this only goes to show that you are born to ill- 
 luck. But I hope it is all for the best. Those who 
 are unlucky in youth are apt to be lucky in old 
 age, it is said and I hope it will be so with you. " 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT SCHOOL 277 
 
 " Ma, when you get your private teacher will he 
 have any exhibitions?" 
 
 "No, my son, he will have no scholar but you." 
 
 " Then I don t want to go to a private teacher. " 
 
 " But remember, my child, that as he will have 
 but one to attend to, he can teach you a great 
 deal better, and bring you on a great deal faster 
 than Mr. Markham could, who has so many in 
 charge. And study well, and you will soon enter 
 college, where you will have an opportunity of 
 showing off your talents not simply to a village, 
 but to a whole State!" 
 
 " And how long will it be before I can go to col 
 lege?" 
 
 " With your gifts, and a private teacher, I have 
 no doubt you will be prepared to enter college in 
 four years at the outside. " 
 
 "Why, Ma, I ll be dead before four years!" 
 
 "Oh, I hope not : they will roll round before you 
 are aware of it." 
 
 As the private teacher had not yet been found, 
 William had nothing to do for the present, and he 
 resumed his attention to public and devotional 
 exercises, in fellowship with the young Glibs, and 
 others of their stamp. 
 
 A few days after this Parson Turner was an 
 nounced as wishing to have a few minutes private 
 
2 78 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 conversation with Mrs. Mitten. He was ushered 
 into the parlor; and Mrs. Mitten soon followed 
 him. 
 
 "Mrs. Mitten," said the Parson, "I have called 
 on you to beg of you to keep your son at home on 
 Wednesday nights. He and the Glibs come to 
 the church where we hold our prayer meetings, and 
 sometimes at the door, and sometimes in the gal 
 lery, keep up such a laughing, bleating and groan 
 ing, that it is next to impossible for us to proceed 
 with our devotions. " 
 
 "Why, Parson Turner, you must be mistaken! 
 I have always taught my child to treat religious 
 services with the most profound respect; and for 
 reasons that need not be mentioned, I am con 
 fident that he is hardly acquainted with the Glibs. 
 
 " No, madam, there is no mistake about it. We 
 all know him very well. " 
 
 "Well, Parson Turner, I will enquire into the 
 matter, and, if I find it so, I will see to it that my 
 son disturbs you no more." 
 
 " Whether you find it so or not, I assure you 
 madam it is so." So saying he took his leave. 
 He had not been gone long when William came in. 
 
 "William," said his mother, " do you associate 
 with the Glibs?" 
 
 " They sometimes come to where I am, and then 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT SCHOOL 279 
 
 I can t get rid of them; but I don t go where 
 they are." 
 
 " Well, now, I strictly forbid you from associat 
 ing with those boys. They are very bad boys and 
 unfit company for you. Parson Turner says you 
 go with them to the church, and behave very 
 rudely during prayer meeting. Is that so, Wil 
 liam?" 
 
 "Twasn t me, ma, it was the Glib boys." 
 
 " How came you there with the Glib boys, at 
 all?" 
 
 " I said I was going to the prayer meeting and 
 they followed me. " 
 
 " Well, my son, I m very glad to learn that you 
 didn t misbehave at the meeting. Brought up as 
 piously as you have been, I didn t think it possible 
 that you could treat religious services with con 
 tempt. When you go to such meetings (which I 
 am glad to find you disposed to do) take your seat 
 near the leader of them, and bad boys will not 
 follow you there. Never have anything to do with 
 boys that can trifle with sacred things. It s the 
 worst sign in the world." 
 
 Mr. Turner went from Mrs. Mitten s to Mrs. 
 Glib s, and repeated his story. 
 
 Mrs. Glib received him with a careless chuckle, 
 and said to him: 
 
2 8o STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Turner, I wouldn t mind little thought 
 less boys; they will have their fun; but they ll 
 quit these things when they grow older. I m very 
 cautious against reproving my children for little 
 childish freaks in church, lest I should excite in 
 them a dangerous and lasting prejudice against 
 religion." 
 
 Mr. Turner, after sitting petrified for about a 
 half minute, rose and abruptly left the house. 
 
 About noon on the following Thursday, Mrs. 
 Glib came over to Mrs. Mitten s, in a great flurry. 
 "Oh," exclaimed she, as she entered the house, 
 "do you know, Mrs. Mitten, there s a warrant out 
 against all our children ! I got wind of it and hid 
 my children; but I m told they ve got William" 
 
 "A warrant!" shrieked Mrs. Mitten. "In 
 mercy s name tell me what has my child been 
 doing to have a warrant out against him?" 
 
 "Oh, nothing of any consequence don t be 
 alarmed nothing but disturbing a prayer-meet 
 ing. Squire Crumb says there s no law for it; 
 and if there was, throwing stones at a house and 
 setting off squibs at the door would not be against 
 the law; and if he was employed, he d blow it all 
 up. But Judge Dawson says there is a law against 
 disturbing worshiping assemblies. I was afraid 
 of this, when Turner went about complaining of the 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT SCHOOL 28! 
 
 boys for their little sports. You know such things 
 always make them mad and worse than ever. " 
 
 Mrs. Mitten was nearly distracted ; for her head 
 was filled with jails, and punishment, and eternal 
 disgrace, which she supposed the invariable accom 
 paniments of warrants. Her brother David was 
 sent for, post-haste; and he was soon at Mr. 
 Justice Easy s office, where William was under 
 arrest. A short interview between him and Par 
 son Turner settled the matter amicably. The 
 latter told him all that had transpired and said 
 he saw no other way of stopping these hopeful 
 youths; but that if Mr. Thomson would pledge 
 himself that they would disturb the meetings 
 no more, he would stop the prosecution. The 
 pledge was given, and the matter was settled. 
 This done, Mr. Thomson proceeded with William 
 to his sister s, where he found the two mothers. 
 
 "Where are your children, madam?" said 
 Thomson sternly to Mrs. Glib. 
 
 11 Why, they I expect they are that is, I think 
 likely which one of them?" 
 
 "Why, all of them, madam." 
 
 "Oh, I have not seen one of them since quite 
 early this morning. What did you want with them, 
 Captain Thomson? " 
 
 " I wished to know from their own lips whether, 
 
282 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 if I get them out of this scrape, they ll let people 
 pray in peace hereafter." 
 
 "Oh, yes, yes, yes I ll engage for them; and I 
 will consider myself under everlasting obligations 
 to you, Captain, if you ll get them out." 
 
 " I must have the pledge from their own lips. " 
 
 "Well, I ll run home and see if they are not 
 there. I ve no doubt they are, for they always 
 come home about this hour what o clock is it?" 
 
 "Half after twelve." 
 
 " Oh, if it s as late as that, I m sure I shall find 
 them at home. Stay a minute, Captain, and I ll 
 run over and bring them." 
 
 She soon returned with her three boys, who were 
 placed with William before the Captain. 
 
 " Do you know, young gentlemen, " said he with 
 great solemnity, " that you have violated the laws 
 of your country? That a warrant has been issued 
 against you, to vindicate the offended majesty of 
 the people s laws?" (Here the ladies looked 
 much alarmed.) "That, unless somebody will 
 befriend you, your mothers are liable to be mulct 
 in pounds of money ; and that you are liable to be 
 cast in prison for ten long days and nights, with 
 nothing to eat but bread and water, and nothing 
 to sleep on but the hard floor and a few blankets? 
 Then be dragged to a court of justice, before the 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT SCHOOL 283 
 
 eyes of the whole world, and there to be tried, by 
 a jury of twelve men duly empanelled to pass 
 between you and your injured, insulted country? 
 Then, when convicted (as you are certain to be), 
 that you are to be turned over to Judge Dawson 
 (who always respects religion, and whose wife is a 
 most excellent member of the church), to be dealt 
 with according to the law in such case made and 
 provided? And do you furthermore know, that 
 all four of you are posting to the devil as fast as 
 he would have you go? Do you know all this my 
 hopeful young friends?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," answered the boys. 
 
 "Very well. Now, I am disposed to befriend 
 you all ; but I desire to know what I am to expect 
 from you if I do; for I don t wish to get myself 
 into any more trouble on your account. If I can 
 be certain that you will never get into any more 
 such scrapes, I ll hush up all this matter, as I know 
 I can ; but I must have a promise from all of you 
 that, if I do, I shall have no more such matters to 
 hush up. As for Bill there, I ll manage him myself ; 
 and if he goes to disturbing religious meetings again, 
 after the trouble he has given me, and after I have 
 snatched him from the clutches of the law, I ll give 
 him the timber myself, harder than Markham did, 
 mother or no mother, objection or no objection. " 
 
284 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 " In such case, brother David, I think you would 
 be perfectly justifiable, after you have stood his 
 security and" 
 
 "Certainly, certainly," said Mrs. Glib; "and in 
 such case, I would not think of opening my mouth, 
 if he should whip my children too. " 
 
 " Well, will your children make the promise, or 
 will they prefer going to jail? " 
 
 " Why, Captain, I would not own them if they 
 refused. They are too high minded and honor 
 able to refuse so great a favor upon such easy 
 terms." 
 
 " Very well. George Washington Alexander Au 
 gustus Glib: Do you promise me here, in the pres 
 ence of your "mother and Mrs. Mitten, that if I 
 stop this prosecution, so that it shall not harm you 
 or your mother, or your brothers, that you will 
 never disturb another religious meeting while you 
 live, either by mouth, foot or hand, inside or out 
 side of the house ; and that you will show no rude 
 ness, in any form or way, to Parson Turner, at any 
 time or in any place? Do you?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " Thomas Jefferson Napoleon Bonaparte Glib: 
 Do you make the same promise that your brother 
 has just made!" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT SCHOOL 285 
 
 " Benjamin Franklin Pulaski LaFayette Glib: 
 Do you make the same promise? " 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " Well, remain here five minutes, and if in that 
 time I do not return, you may be certain that the 
 matter is satisfactorily settled." So saying he 
 retired. 
 
 "Oh, Mrs. Mitten," said Mrs. Glib, "what an 
 excellent, excellent man that brother of yours is. 
 I shall love him as long as I live, " 
 
 " Brother David has a good heart, though he is 
 sometimes rough in his manner. Was ever a 
 child so unfortunate as mine? It is an old maxim 
 that one had better be born lucky than rich, and 
 I believe it. Brother David will probably settle 
 the suit; but who is to wipe out the stain from my 
 child s character?" 
 
 "Dear me, Mrs. Mitten, the thing will be for 
 gotten in a week ! Everybody knows that it was 
 but a childish frolic, that nobody but old Turner 
 would have noticed; and I shall make it my 
 business to give him my mind upon it very freely, 
 the first time I meet him. Tm under no promise, 
 if my children are." 
 
 " I cannot blame Parson Turner, Mrs. Glib, and 
 I hope you will not. " 
 
 The five, and even ten minutes rolled away, and. 
 
286 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 Mr. Thomson not returning, Mrs. Glib moved off 
 with her sons, looking very little like their name 
 sakes. 
 
 Mrs. Mitten now determined to keep her son at 
 home of nights; she therefore charged him, "upon 
 pain of her sore displeasure," not to leave the house 
 at night without her permission. William prom 
 ised obedience, of course ; and, like a good boy, 
 kept his promise for two nights and a half without 
 ever asking leave of absence. On the second night 
 she seated him at the stand to read to her and 
 his sisters. He had proceeded about a quarter of an 
 hour, when three strange whistles were heard near 
 the house. They were not noticed by Mrs. Mitten 
 as yet; but the first had no sooner sounded than 
 William began to read horribly. 
 
 "Now, William," said his mother, "you ve got 
 tired of reading already; and you re trying how 
 bad you can read, that I may make you stop!" 
 "No, I declare I a nt, Ma." 
 " Well, what makes you blunder and halt and 
 miscall words so? What does that incessant 
 whistling mean?" 
 
 "That s the way the boys whistle at school/ 
 said William. 
 
 " How do they do it ? for it sounds like blowing 
 in large phials." 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT SCHOOL 287 
 
 " They do it by blowing in their hands. " 
 
 "What are they blowing about here for? they 
 never did it before. Go out, William, and beg 
 them to desist." 
 
 William obeyed promptly, and it seemed gladly. 
 The whistling ceased as soon as he went out ; and 
 in a few minutes he returned. 
 
 "Who are they?" enquired Mrs. Mitten. 
 
 "A parcel of school-boys," said William, "but 
 they said they wouldn t whistle about the house 
 any more. " He resumed his seat, and read pretty 
 well until his mother excused him. 
 
 The next evening the whistling was renewed; 
 but at such a distance from the house as to attract 
 the attention of no one ; unless, perchance William 
 from the events of the preceding night, was led 
 to notice it. 
 
 "Ma," said he, "mayn t I go to the Juvenile 
 Debating Society to-night?" 
 
 "Certainly, my son; but come home as soon as 
 the Society adjourns." 
 
 He set out, but happening to fall in with Ben 
 and Jeff Glib, by the way (so they were called for 
 short), they proposed going by Squire King s gar 
 den, and getting a few June apples. Ben said, 
 "that Lawyer King was a very clever man, and 
 didn t care who took his apples if they didn t 
 
288 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 break his trees, and only took what they wanted 
 to eat. " Jeff said that he knew " that to be a fact ; 
 for he heard him tell William Strain, his wife s 
 little brother, that very day, to go in with his 
 playmates and eat as many as they wanted, but 
 not to break down his trees. " 
 
 " Well, if that s the case, " said William, " I ll go ; 
 but I wouldn t steal apples for anything in the 
 world." 
 
 " Neither would I, " said Ben. " Law, no ! Not 
 for the world. " 
 
 "Oh, it s nothing like stealing," said Jeff. 
 " Sposen you was to lay down anything, and say 
 you didn t care who took it, if they didn t break 
 it, and I was to come along at night, and take it, 
 and not break it, would that be stealing?" 
 
 "No," said Ben, "it s no more stealing than 
 picking up a chip. " 
 
 William had attended the Juvenile Debating 
 Society too long with too much profit not to feel 
 the full force of Master Glib s logic, and conse 
 quently his scruples were immediately removed 
 and the boys proceeded to the garden. The fence 
 was ascended, and they were soon under the best 
 apple tree. 
 
 "William," said Ben in a whisper, "this is a 
 good place to learn to climb. The limbs are low 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT SCHOOL 289 
 
 and I can push you up to them. When you get 
 in the tree, shake down the apples, and Brother 
 Jeff and I will pick em up ; but don t shake down 
 more than we can eat ; for Mr. King wouldn t like 
 that, and I should hate to do anything he don t 
 like. Don t shake hard. The best way is to get 
 on a limb, and hit a little stomp with your heel, 
 and if they don t come stomp a little harder. " 
 
 Thus instructed, William, with Ben s help, 
 ascended the tree. He stamped limb after limb 
 until he thought enough had fallen to satisfy the 
 company, and was about descending when Jeff 
 said, " Don t come down yit we an t got enough 
 yit I can eat a bosom full. Here, go out upon 
 this limb and fetch it a pretty hard stomp or two, 
 and that ll do." 
 
 William went out on the limb as directed, and at 
 the first stamp, missing the limb, he fell, and broke 
 his arm just above the elbow. His pain was great, 
 and his alarm was greater, but he bore them with 
 little complaint until he cleared the garden. He 
 then broke forth in heart-piercing groans, sobs, 
 and lamentations; but not loud enough to 
 disturb any of the villagers. " Oh, my arm does 
 hurt me so bad! Only see how it swings about! 
 Oh, my poor dear mother; it will kill her. My 
 Heavenly Father, forgive me this one time, and 
 
 19 
 
29 o STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 I never will do the like again ! I don t want you 
 two boys to go home with me. If you please, 
 don t go home with me." 
 
 His cries announced his coming before he reached 
 home; for they became louder as he approached 
 his mother s door. His sisters flew to him, and 
 his mother rose to follow them ; but her strength 
 failed her and she fell back in her chair. They 
 could not learn the cause of his wailing until he 
 entered the house ; when, advancing to his mother, 
 he sobbed out, " Oh, my dear mother, look at my 
 arm!" 
 
 "What, is it broke?" 
 
 " Yes, ma am, I can t move it. " 
 
 " Oh, my God, was ever a child doomed to such 
 misfortunes! Ann, send for the Doctor immedi 
 ately I have not strength to move. Send for 
 Doctor Hull and Doctor Barden both. 1 
 
 The doctors came, and set the arm. 
 
 Of course the enquiry was from all, how the acci 
 dent happened. 
 
 "I was going to the Society," said William, 
 "and was standing by a tree, and one boy said 
 he d teach me to climb, and he pushed me up the 
 tree, and I fell down and broke my arm." 
 
 We will not detain the reader with the many 
 questions which this explanation provoked, and 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT SCHOOL , 9t 
 
 the answers to them which William gave. Suffice 
 it to say that Doctor Hull fetched a little grunt of 
 equivocal signification, and took a chew of tobacco 
 upon it, with as little interest in it as if he had set 
 a thousand arms broken in this way ; but Doctor 
 Barden was as particular in his enquiries into the 
 case, as though he meant to report it to the Phila 
 delphia Medical Journal. 
 
 The next morning Squire King came over to 
 enquire "how poor little William was." He 
 expressed, and no doubt felt, tender sympathies 
 for the boy; but any one to have marked his eye, 
 would have supposed that his sympathies gathered 
 about William s feet rather than his arm. 
 
 This might be accounted for without discredit to 
 the Squire s heart ; for being a great hunter, he had 
 contracted a habit of examining tracks, and track- 
 makers, which beset him at times, and sometimes 
 upon improper occasions, as in this instance. 
 
 " William, " said the Squire, with a small dash of 
 waggishness in his tone and countenance which 
 Bill seemed to think very ill-timed; "was it a 
 smooth-barked tree, or a rough-barked tree?" 
 
 "I forgot," drawled out Bill a little crustily. 
 
 " Did you get up to the limbs before you fell, or 
 just fall from the body?" 
 
 " I got to the limbs" 
 
292 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 "Did you take off your shoes?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Aye, that s the way the accident happened. 
 You went up with your shoes on. You should 
 always take off your shoes when you climb. The 
 Glib boys, who are the best climbers I know, 
 always take off their shoes and stockings both. I 
 hope, my son, you will soon be well. Mrs. Mitten, 
 if there s anything that I have that can minister 
 to William s comfort, it is at your service. I 
 have some very fine June apples, and I will send 
 him over some; little boys commonly like such 
 things." 
 
 "Thank you thank you kindly, Mr. King. I 
 know he will prize them very highly. William, 
 have you no thanks to give Mr. King for his kind 
 ness?" Mr. King retired. 
 
 "William," said his mother, "it seemed to me 
 you were a little rude to Mr. King. " 
 
 "I know him," said Bill sulkily. 
 
 " Well, you know a most excellent, kind-hearted 
 
 man." 
 
 " He s always poking his fun at people. " 
 "I m sure there was nothing like fun in what he 
 said to you. It was all tenderness and kindness. " 
 William s arm kept him, for the most part, con 
 fined to the house for five weeks or more, during 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT SCHOOL 293 
 
 which time he was quite lucky, for nothing hap 
 pened to disturb his or his mother s peace. He 
 had been so long kept from the Juvenile Debating 
 Society that he had become very anxious to attend 
 it; and his mother s consent being obtained, he 
 departed once more for the arena of youthful 
 polemics. 
 
 He did not return until the family retired to 
 rest; and in passing to his room he made such a 
 noise among the chairs, as to wake up his mother. 
 
 "Is that you, William?" said she. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Is that the way you answer your mother?" 
 
 " Who put all these chairs in the entry? " 
 
 "There are no more there than are always 
 there." 
 
 "It s a lie!" 
 
 "0, heavens, my child is deranged! My child, 
 my child! That arm, that arm!" 
 
 Mrs. Mitten sprung from her bed, and before she 
 even lighted a candle dispatched a servant to 
 Doctor Hull with the request that he hurry over 
 immediately, for that her son was out of his senses. 
 She had hardly got a light and a loose gown 
 thrown over her shoulders before the doctor was 
 at the door. They met in the entry, just as Wil 
 liam had come the fourth time to a chair which 
 
294 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 had been heading him ever since he entered the 
 house. He seized it (for it had naturally enough 
 exhausted his patience) and slung it with all his 
 might as far as he could send it. 
 
 "Oh, Doctor!" exclaimed Mrs. Mitten in the 
 deepest agony of mind, "can you do anything 
 for my poor unfortunate boy?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, ma am yes, ma am. Don t be 
 alarmed. I pledge myself to have him sound and 
 well before nine o clock to-morrow morning." 
 
 "Oh, Doctor, how can you speak so confidently 
 without ever feeling the child s pulse." 
 
 Just here, William, having got hold of a small 
 table that stood in the entry, and which he proba- 
 ably mistook for a wash-basin, poured out upon it a 
 villainous compound of heterogeneous elements, 
 which it would have required a stronger head and 
 greater capacity than Bill possessed, to keep to 
 gether in peace for a single night. 
 
 The doctor grunted, as usual ; but with unusual 
 indications of sympathy for Master Mitten. 
 
 "Why, Doctor, it seems to me," said the good 
 lady, "that I smell peach brandy!" 
 
 " It seems so to me too, " said the doctor, " and 
 segar smoke to boot. " 
 
 " It s a lie, " said Bill. " He tells a lie, and you 
 tell a lie." 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT SCHOOL 295 
 
 "Do you think my child is drunk, Doctor?" 
 
 " No doubt of it in the world, madam. Nothing 
 else is the matter with him." 
 
 "Then my fate is sealed. I am doomed to 
 wretchedness for life." And she sobbed and 
 shrieked by turns. 
 
 " Retire to your room, madam. I will put him 
 to bed, and stay with him until he gets sound 
 asleep; and he will be well in the morning." 
 
 She did so; but it was to walk her room in 
 torture through the live-long night not to sleep. 
 
 It was late in the morning before William rose. 
 He had learned from a servant all that passed on 
 the preceding evening; and it was an hour after 
 he rose before he could venture from his room to 
 face his mother. At length he came, and mingled 
 tears of contrition with her tears of sorrow 
 confessed his fault and promised never to smoke 
 another segar, or drink another drop of liquor, 
 while he lived. 
 
 In the main, things went on smoothly and hap 
 pily in the two families during the year, but 
 before its close both the Captain and his sister had 
 their quiet a little disturbed by William s over- 
 attention to Snapdragon, a beautiful though 
 gentle horse the Captain had given his nephew 
 for good conduct and as a relief from his studies. 
 
296 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 It was natural curiosity that prompted him to 
 enquire carefully into Snapdragon s capabilities, 
 accomplishments, predilections and tractability. 
 By close observation and experiment, he dis 
 covered that a little needless whipping improved 
 him wonderfully (such the difference between a 
 teacher and a disciple) . It made him move airily, 
 and infused life, grace and activity into both his 
 extremities ; that he could trot eight miles an hour ; 
 that he could beat Billy Figg s Nicktail, Billy 
 Pine s Catham and Bob Maston s Flying Nelly 
 easily; that he stood the firing of a gun on him 
 very well; that he could clear a six-rail fence at 
 a leap; that by tickling him in a particular way 
 in the flank (which he called the " grabble-tickle ") 
 he could make him kick amusingly ; that by apply 
 ing the "grabble-tickle" to his back bone, just 
 behind the saddle, he could carry him through 
 a variety of most interesting evolutions tail- 
 switching, warping, biting (backwards, at nothing), 
 polka dancing and furious kicking. One thing he 
 taught him which was perfectly original, and that 
 was to stop at the cluck or chirp, and go at the word 
 "wo!" To teach him all these accomplishments 
 William had to devote nearly his whole time to 
 him. He had to ride him far and near, and in so 
 doing it was just as well to call and see all the 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT SCHOOL 297 
 
 planters within seven miles of the village, and rest 
 awhile with them, and entertain them with all the 
 wonders of Doctor Waddel s school, as to ride that 
 far and return without dismounting. Every gath 
 ering in the county he was certain to attend, by 
 means whereof he had a fine opportunity of study 
 ing human nature in some of its most interesting 
 aspects. He saw how petty elections were con 
 ducted; how electioneering was carried on; how 
 much rum it took to elect a captain and a justice 
 of the peace. He saw justice administered by 
 magistrates in their shirt sleeves, and heard stiff 
 quarrels between them and the suitors. He saw 
 card-playing in its most unpretending humility 
 and simplicity, to wit: by a couple of the sover 
 eignty, seated cross-legged on the ground, with a 
 dirty cotton handkerchief between them for a 
 table and a half deck of dirtier cards. (Here was 
 the introduction of "squatter sovereignty 1 into the 
 country; but who could have supposed that it 
 would ever make such a fuss in the world as it has 
 made!) He saw cock fights occasionally, dog 
 fights often, and men fights regularly; now and 
 then he was entertained with a quarter race and 
 a foot race. Upon one occasion he took up a 
 banter of " the universal world" for a foot race, by 
 a youth both older and larger than himself, and 
 
29 8 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 gained the victory handsomely. His competitor 
 said "if he couldn t beat him a running he could 
 whip him. " Bill " pitched into him, " as the say 
 ing is, without a parley, and flogged him beauti 
 fully, and to the delight and admiration of every 
 body, who thought it mean in him to pick a 
 quarrel with a boy who had fairly beaten him, 
 just from shame of his defeat. These feats gave 
 William great renown in the county. Perhaps no 
 youth in the land ever made greater progress in 
 "the study of human nature" than William did 
 in the short space of two months. But without 
 Snapdragon where would he have been? Con 
 fined to the darkness of his own village ! And who 
 ever heard of any human nature in a village, save 
 at court times, general elections and general par 
 ades? The Captain often heard of his progress, 
 and often counseled him. "William," he would 
 say, "I fear I committed a great error in giving 
 you that horse ; I am sure I did. It was one of the 
 most imprudent acts of my life." 
 
 "Why, Uncle?" 
 
 11 For many reasons. He takes up all your time. 
 I never see a book in your hand ; you have hardly 
 attended a religious meeting, except on Sunday, 
 since the vacation commenced. You are too 
 young to have control of a horse. He is a spirited 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT SCHOOL 299 
 
 horse, and if not managed with care he may break 
 your neck " 
 
 " Uncle, he can t throw me to save his life." 
 
 "I m glad to hear that; my main design in 
 giving him to you was to make you a good horse 
 man; but he may run away with you, carry you 
 under the limb of a tree, and knock your brains 
 out. If you will be careful with him there is no 
 danger, for I know him to be a very gentle horse, 
 though spirited but youths of your age are so 
 thoughtless. I hardly ever see you in the day 
 time; where do you keep yourself?" 
 
 "Just riding about in the country, Uncle. " 
 
 " But sometimes you re gone the live-long day, 
 and surely you are not riding all the time without 
 your meals?" 
 
 "Oh, no, sir! Sometimes I take dinner at Mr. 
 Love s, sometimes at Mr. Tod s, sometimes at 
 Squire Mattox s, sometimes at Mr. White s, and 
 Curtis King s" 
 
 " Why, William, my son, you ought not to visit 
 people s houses in that way " 
 
 " Uncle, they always tell me they are glad to see 
 me, and always beg me to come and see them 
 again." 
 
 " To be sure they do ; but because they are kind 
 you should not tax their hospitality all the time. 
 
300 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 At times, I am sure you must fall upon them very 
 unseasonably, and give them no little inconve 
 nience. When they see you in town here, and ask 
 you to come and see them, why, then go ; but don t 
 thrust yourself upon them at all hours, uninvited." 
 
 "I ll obey you, Uncle." 
 
 Again the Captain would renew his complaint 
 and advise : 
 
 " William, your mother is very uneasy about 
 you. She says you constantly come home charged 
 with news from all the gatherings in the county. 
 Surely, you don t frequent such places? What 
 interest can you take in them? What do you 
 promise yourself from such resorts? I charge 
 you under pain of my sore displeasure to abandon 
 them. " 
 
 "I will do so, Uncle." 
 
 A little after this time the Captain informed 
 William over night that he wished to borrow 
 Snapdragon for a short ride the next morning, as 
 all his own horses were in use. William gave a 
 cordial assent, of course. "Send Tom over with 
 him directly after breakfast; I m only going to 
 Doctor Wingfield s," said the Captain. 
 
 The Captain lived on the street that led directly 
 to Doctor Wingfield s, and near the edge of the 
 town. As William had never seen his uncle on 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT SCHOOL 301 
 
 Snapdragon, and felt a deep interest in his per 
 formance under the saddle of his kind benefactor, 
 he took his position in the inner lock of a fence in 
 the street, under cover of some high weeds, whence, 
 with a little change of position, he could have a 
 full view of the Captain s house and two or three 
 hundred yards of the street and road leading from 
 it. Tom got to the house with Snapdragon about 
 the time that William got comfortably seated. 
 Snap was soon saddled, and the Captain was nearly 
 as soon by his side, ready to mount him, Snap 
 showing signs of impatience to get off. 
 
 "What makes that horse do so, Tom?" asked 
 the Captain. " I don t like his motions. " 
 
 "He s gentle, Mas David," said Tom. "He 
 only do so till you start him." 
 
 The Captain placed one hand on Snap s neck 
 and the other on the back of the saddle to mount ; 
 this hand happened to slip and fall a little rudely 
 on Snap s back. Snap, nothing doubting that 
 this was the beginning of the "grabble tickle," 
 commenced with the preliminaries of the polka. 
 
 "Why, the horse is ruined," said the Captain. 
 " I wonder he hasn t knocked William s brains out 
 long ago." 
 
 "Mas David, I tell you the an t nothin the 
 matter with him. This is nothin but some 
 
302 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 little foolishness Mas William larn him. He s 
 gentle." 
 
 In the meantime Bill was rolling in the weeds 
 "enthused"* with delight. 
 
 The Captain made a second attempt and 
 mounted. 
 
 "Tom, tell your mistress Wo!" said he to 
 fidgeting Snap, and away went Snap "to the tune 
 of eight miles an hour!" "Wo!" repeated the 
 Captain more emphatically, and Snap put off at 
 half speed, at which gait he passed Bill in an agony 
 of laughter. The Captain immediately conjec 
 tured that Bill had been running Snap, and that 
 the horse took "wo" for "go!" and he did not 
 repeat the word again. Snap soon became paci 
 fied, and the Captain brought him to a halt. He 
 studied awhile whether it would be best for him 
 to go on or return. He concluded he would try 
 Snap a little further anyhow, so he clucked to him 
 to proceed; but, so far from proceeding, Snap 
 settled himself in more dignified composure than 
 he had exhibited during the whole morning. He 
 clucked again with no better success. He chirped, 
 but these changes of note operated upon Snap like 
 a serenade. 
 
 *This word, of very modern coinage, is now getting into pretty general 
 ue in some parts of the country. 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT SCHOOL 303 
 
 " Why, did ever anybody see such a fool horse 
 since the world was made?" mused the Captain. 
 " What s a body to do with him? How is he to be 
 made to go on or stop ? If I ever give another chap 
 a fine horse he may give me a thousand lashes, 
 and I ll thank him for it. It certainly was the 
 unluckiest act of my life to give Bill this horse ! " 
 
 Upon the whole, the Captain concluded it would 
 be best for him to get out of temptation as quick 
 as possible by returning home. Just as he made 
 up his mind to this course, Mr. Foster met 
 him. 
 
 "Good morning, Brother Thomson," said 
 Foster. 
 
 "Good morning, Brother Foster," said Mr. 
 Thomson. 
 
 "Which way are you going?" 
 
 " I was going to Dr. Wingneld s, but I ve got on 
 my nephew s horse, which the boy has so com 
 pletely spoiled that there is no doing anything 
 with him, so I ll go back with you." 
 
 All of the proceedings up to this moment con 
 vinced Snapdragon that he had been brought out 
 that morning for no other purpose in the world 
 than to beat Mr. Foster s horse in a quarter race. 
 His conjectures were fully confirmed when in an 
 swer to Mr. Foster s question, " don t you own 
 
3 o 4 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 him?" the Captain, as he paced about, answered 
 emphatically "No!" 
 
 At the word, Snap dashed. The Captain soon 
 took him up, and waited till Brother Foster came 
 up. As he approached, the Captain clucked to 
 Snap, and he stopped crustily. 
 
 "Bless your soul, honey," said Brother Foster, 
 "that s a mighty good looking horse, but he s a 
 mighty foolish one. " 
 
 " He was one of the finest horses in the land 
 Wo/" cried the Captain (forgetting himself) to 
 Snap, in rage to beat Foster s horse, and away he 
 dashed again. He was stopped as before. 
 
 " Why, Brother Thomson, that horse seems to 
 go when he ought to stop, and stop when he ought 
 to go." 
 
 "Exactly so," said the Captain; and Snap 
 bristled considerably at the last word, but was 
 chirped to halt instantly. 
 
 " Why, bless your soul, honey, I never did see a 
 horse take on after that sort in all my life. I 
 wouldn t give you this pipe for him if I had to 
 ride him." 
 
 "No," said the Captain (Snap bristled), "nor I 
 either." 
 
 In this way, between stops and starts, and 
 sidles and snorts, the Captain reached home, 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT SCHOOL 305 
 
 greatly to his delight and the still greater delight 
 of William. 
 
 The lecture he gave his nephew at their next 
 meeting we leave the reader to conjecture. 
 
 William s victories happened to be reported to 
 the Captain by Mr. Moore in the presence of Wil 
 liam, and in the way of congratulation to him. 
 
 "Why, William," exclaimed the Captain, "is it 
 possible that you have been running foot races and 
 fighting" 
 
 "Oh, don t blame him," said Mr. Moore; "I 
 supposed you knew all about it, since it is talked 
 about everywhere. But don t blame William, 
 for he never did a better thing in all his life, and 
 never will do a better while he lives. He was at 
 the Court at old man Haralson s, and there was 
 an uncommonly large gathering for the occasion. 
 There was a fellow there, a forward, noisy chap, 
 named Jake Black, who was cutting up high shines. 
 He said he could beat anything of his weight and 
 inches in the universal world at a foot race. I 
 can beat you, said William. You! says Black, 
 I can run round you three times in fifty yards and 
 then beat you. Well, says William, suppose 
 you try it. The match was made up, a hundred 
 yards was stepped off, and all on the Court ground 
 went to see the race. At the word they started, 
 
 20 
 
3 o6 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 and William beat him a clear light of at least seven 
 yards. There was a general shout as they came 
 in, and many had something digging to say to 
 Black. One told him he oughtn t to run against 
 anything but grub -worms and terrapins. An 
 other told him his belly didn t give his legs fair 
 play. I saw your thighs, says he, hit your belly 
 every step you made. If you can only manage 
 to hook up your belly just three-quarters of an 
 inch before you run, so as to give your legs full 
 sweep, you d beat Bill Mitten thirty yards in the 
 hundred, I know you would. Oh/ says a third, 
 1 his stomach had nothing to do with it at least it 
 wouldn t have had, if he had been in good keep; 
 but he was in no order to run. I saw him eat two 
 millions and a peck of peaches not an hour before 
 the race. Take that weight off him, and where 
 would Bill Mitten have been? Well, said the 
 second, that s just what I say. He only lacks 
 three-quarters of an inch of beating the universal 
 world; I thought his belly was natural! 
 
 "This kind of chat," continued Moore, "made 
 Jake very mad, and as William stood laughing with 
 the rest, Jake stepped up to him and said, If you 
 can beat me running I can whip you mighty easy. 
 You know that hard place in the road between old 
 man Haralson s house and the Court room? He 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT SCHOOL 307 
 
 was standing there, and the words was no sooner 
 out of his mouth when William seized him, fetched 
 the hip-lock upon him, and gave him the hardest 
 fall that I ever saw a boy get in all my life. Before 
 Jake could recover from his fall, William was on 
 him, giving him bringer. He very soon told the 
 news (cried enough ! ) , and William got off of him 
 without a scratch. I don t suppose there ever 
 was a people more rejoiced and surprised than they 
 all were at William s doings. Jake had no idea 
 that a boy dressed as fine as William was could 
 fight at all, nor did anybody else believe it. But, 
 Lord bless your soul, Captain, he walked over 
 Jake in the highest style of fighting! I tell you 
 what, sir, he s as active as a cat and as bold as a 
 lion. So you see he was not to blame." 
 
 And now came "the tug of war" (intestine war) 
 with the Captain. Before Moore had proceeded 
 four sentences in his narrative, Captain Thom 
 son s countenance lost every trace of amazement 
 and indignation, and assumed a rather unchristian 
 placidity. The next transition was to a benig 
 nant smile ; then to an expression of wonder and 
 delight, then to a laugh of triumph ; and so it went 
 on, stronger and stronger, to the end of the 
 chapter; so that when Moore concluded it was 
 manifest that "brother" Thomson had no more 
 
3 o8 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 thought of religion in him than he had of the 
 tattling of his countenance ; and no more thought 
 of the tattling of his countenance than if he had 
 been all the time in profound sleep. But the time 
 had come for him to speak, and what could he say? 
 Bill had followed his counsels to the letter, and had 
 exhibited the very fruits from them that he had 
 anticipated and desired. Should he now rebuke 
 him? That would not do. Should he applaud 
 his conduct? That would not do from a Christian. 
 Should he remain silent? That would be a tacit 
 sanction of all that William had done. But say 
 something he must, and that something must be 
 extemporized; so he began, in a very cool tone, 
 that might be taken for the composure of religion 
 or the composure of gratification: 
 
 "Why, William, I m astonished at you?" 
 
 Very true, but very equivocal. 
 
 " I don t think, in any view o^ the case, that his 
 saying simply that he could whip you, justified you 
 in attacking him " 
 
 "But, Uncle, I saw that he was mad, and bent 
 upon picking a quarrel with me, or hacking me 
 before all the company, and I thought that as I 
 would have to fight or back out, I d best take a 
 running start on him ; for the first blow in a fight 
 is half the battle, they say. " 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT SCHOOL 309 
 
 "Well, that is true that is arguing upon 
 worldly principles; and supposing fighting in any 
 case to be justifiable; for by that course you 
 
 are certain to get some advan . However, 
 
 worldly principles are not always to be trusted; 
 indeed, never to be trusted when they come in 
 conflict with religious principles. The longer 
 I live in the world, the more dissatisfied I become 
 with its ways and notions. Four or five months 
 ago I would have given advice that I would not 
 now give at least without very considerable 
 qualifications. Vigor of body, strength of consti 
 tution, unflinching courage moral courage are 
 certainly great things great things in many 
 points of view but then, like all good gifts, they 
 may be abused. And here, William, let me give 
 you a caution. You have a very good apology 
 (our friend Moore thinks) for engaging in those 
 contests with Black. Now, take care that your 
 victories over him do not lead you to seek contests 
 merely to show your prowess merely for the 
 praise of victory and the terror of your com 
 panions. Oh! of all the disgusting things in this 
 world, a mere bully a man who forces his fellow 
 being into a fight with him merely for the vile 
 fame of whipping him, is the most disgusting. I 
 have seen such men, and I have despised them. 
 
3 io STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 They pretend to take as insults what they know 
 was meant in friendship or in fun. They wantonly 
 assail feelings, play insufferable pranks with men, 
 and then assail them for speaking harshly of what 
 they say they meant as innocent sport. They 
 take occasion from a man s dress, his features, his 
 person, his carriage, to worry him into resistance 
 of some kind, and then flog him for resisting. 
 Can anything better mark a devil than such con 
 duct as this? Now, William, I don t blame you 
 for fighting (that is, upon worldly principles) under 
 the circumstances; but I do blame you for going 
 to such places not for going to Mr. Haralson s, 
 for he is a very worthy man, and has a very worthy 
 family, but for going there in Court times. I 
 have been there often and I don t remember ever 
 to have seen one of his sons in the crowd of Court 
 days in my life. And I blame you for running a 
 race at such a time and place." 
 
 Now if the reader can extract from this long 
 harangue what were the Captain s views of the case 
 of Mitten vs. Black, upon Christian principles, he 
 is certainly much wiser than the writer. Whether 
 it was becoming in him to discuss the case so 
 generally upon "worldly principles," without 
 drawing a line of distinction between them and 
 Christian principles whether it was right in him 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT SCHOOL 3 n 
 
 to say what he would have advised four or five 
 months ago, that he would not now without any 
 specifications that might enlighten his nephew as 
 to whether he meant to take back any of his 
 counsels upon universal excellence, are questions 
 which we will not undertake to settle. But we will 
 venture to say that Master Mitten inferred from 
 it that the Captain was highly delighted (but 
 of course only on worldly principles) with his 
 achievements, and that he need never fear the 
 Captain s wrath for fighting, provided he 
 would always fight at the right time, in the right 
 place, and for good reasons in Mr. Moore s 
 judgment. 
 
 In the course of his observations Master Mitten 
 discovered two other things through the aid of 
 Snapdragon, which we must not omit to mention. 
 The one was, that six or seven months absti 
 nence from strong drink had not entirely abated 
 his relish for it ; and the other was that the squat 
 ter sovereigns committed many errors in their 
 games that he could have rectified with success. 
 It was the custom of not a few heads of families 
 at this time to make up a mint-julep of peach or 
 apple brandy every morning, and to give a little 
 to every member of the family, old and young, 
 blacks excepted. It was a much more invariable 
 
3 i2 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 custom to make a large bowl of egg-nogg every 
 Christmas, of which the whole family were ex 
 pected to take a little more freely, and it was con 
 sidered rather a laughing than a serious matter if 
 some of the children got intoxicated. No one 
 ever entered a house to tarry for a half hour with 
 out being asked "to take something to drink," 
 and with the plainer people of the country this 
 invitation was extended to boys hardly in their 
 teens, and was accepted without exciting any 
 surprise. Not many years before the times of 
 which we are speaking, probably down to the very 
 times, a still more remarkable custom prevailed 
 among some, if not all, Methodist preachers, which 
 was to ask a blessing upon every glass of toddy 
 they took. Should this statement be questioned, 
 we have authority for it, at hand, which no man 
 in Georgia will question. How this custom orig 
 inated it is easy to define. The discipline of the 
 Methodist Church enjoined upon its members to 
 do nothing upon which they could not invoke 
 God s blessing, and as they never dreamed that 
 there was anything sinful in taking a glass of toddy, 
 or as it was more commonly called, a little sweet 
 ened dram, they "said grace over it." 
 
 While such customs were rife in the country, it is 
 not to be wondered at that Master Mitten had 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT SCHOOL 313 
 
 frequent opportunities of indulging his early 
 formed relish for ardent spirits, even without the 
 help of Snapdragon with his help they were 
 quintupled. He, however, took care never to 
 appear at home, or in the presence of his uncle, 
 "disguised with liquor. 1 But as the Captain saw 
 that he was doing no good, he feared that he was 
 doing much harm, and he rejoiced greatly when 
 the time arrived for his return to school. 
 
- XI. 
 WILLIAM MITTEN AT COLLEGE 
 
 After a year or more of varying success and 
 brilliancy in his studies under a private teacher 
 and then off at Dr. Waddel s School in South 
 Carolina, just before Captain Thomson s last 
 sickness, it was arranged that William Mitten 
 should accompany his cousin, David Thomson, 
 and George Markham for Princeton College, New 
 Jersey. 
 
 Princeton was at that time, in the South at 
 least, the most renowned College in the Union. 
 Captain Thomson appointed Mr. Markham one 
 of the executors of his will, and authorized him 
 to appropriate any sum out of his estate that he 
 might deem necessary to the education of John 
 Brown also, not exceeding one hundred dollars 
 per annum, Mr. Markham and other parties having 
 agreed to contribute the balance needed to edacate 
 the struggling but deserving student. 
 
 "If," said Mr. Markham, "William will apply 
 himself closely to the study of Greek and Mathe 
 matics (the only studies in which he is lacking) 
 he will be able to enter the Freshman class. " 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT COLLEGE 315 
 
 The proposition was readily embraced by mother 
 and son, and while she commenced his outfit for 
 the journey he commenced the study of Greek 
 assiduously. 
 
 Everything being ready, and time for departure, 
 the boys, after much good advice, and many 
 tearful farewells, set out on their journey to the 
 North. 
 
 Three days staging brought them to Savannah, 
 and an eight-day voyage landed them in New 
 York. On board ship they were all very seasick. 
 After being shown over New York they departed 
 for College. Markham, Thomson and Brown 
 entered the Sophomore class without difficulty, 
 but it was exceedingly mortifying to William to 
 find himself obliged to enter the Freshman. 
 
 Instead of presenting his certificate to the Presi 
 dent, and making application for admission into 
 the Freshman class, he excogitated a brilliant 
 scheme, not altogether original, to be sure, but 
 highly creditable to his ingenuity, whereby he was 
 to get into the Sophomore class without the need 
 ful preparation for it. Thus thought our hero: 
 
 " If I apply for the Junior class, they will have 
 too much respect for my feelings to put me away 
 down in the Freshman class, if they can possibly 
 avoid it. Even for the Junior class, they will, in 
 
3 i6 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 all probability, examine me upon those studies 
 which I have been over, and here I shall acquit 
 myself so handsomely, that they will readily com 
 promise matters, and let me into the Sophomore 
 class." Accordingly he reported himself to the 
 President with an air of great self-possession, as a 
 candidate for the Junior class. The President, 
 after gravely taking his dimensions with the eye, 
 to the manifest terror of Master Mitten, said: 
 "The Junior class, now more than half advanced! 
 How far have you advanced in Latin and Greek? " 
 William answered. " In Mathematics?" He an 
 swered again. "Have you studied Chemistry, 
 Astronomy, Natural and Moral Philosophy and 
 Logic?" "No, sir!" "Under whom did you pre 
 pare for college? " " Mr. Waddel and Mr. Finley. " 
 "Mr. Waddel, of South Carolina, and Mr. Finley, 
 of Basken Ridge? " " Yes, sir. " " We have four 
 students now in college, from Mr. Waddel s school, 
 and ten from Mr. Finley s, all of whom entered 
 without difficulty. Did either of your preceptors 
 advise you to apply for the Junior class?" " No, 
 sir, but I thought maybe I could enter that class." 
 1 Well, Master Mitten, 7 think, maybe you can 
 enter no class in college. I will give you a trial, 
 however, for the Freshman class, if you can bring 
 down your aspirations that low." "Well, sir," 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT COLLEGE 317 
 
 said William, with a spirit of accommodation 
 truly commendable, " I ll try for that class. " 
 Here William s usual bad hick attended him, for his 
 ingenuity had exposed him to agonizing mortifica 
 tion, betrayed him into a falsehood, and, as he well 
 knew, made the President s first impressions of 
 him very unfavorable. 
 
 He was examined and admitted without diffi 
 culty. The President was curious to learn what 
 sort of an examination he stood, and enquired of 
 the examining professors. "Admirable," said 
 they, una voce. The President smiled, but said 
 nothing. 
 
 William followed Mr. Markham s advice strictly 
 through the Freshman year, and for four months of 
 the Sophomore year, and the consequence was as 
 usual: he stood at the head of the class. His 
 letters to his mother were in the highest degree 
 gratifying. He spoke gratefully of Mr. Mark- 
 ham s last counsels to him, and promised to obey 
 them to the letter; he expressed his admiration 
 of the Faculty, particularly of those members 
 of it who had charge of his class, in terms border 
 ing upon the extravagance of praise rejoiced that 
 he had been defeated in his attempt to procure 
 a clerkship; and rejoiced still more that he now 
 saw the error of his ways, and had radically re- 
 
3 i8 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 formed. One of his epistles he concluded in this 
 language : 
 
 "When I think, my dearest mother, of the 
 trouble I have given you how I abused your good 
 ness, and disappointed your reasonable expecta 
 tions, my conscience smites me, and my cheeks 
 burn with blushes. How could I have been 
 such an ingrate! How could I have sent a 
 pang to the bosom of the sweetest, the kindest, 
 the tenderest, the holiest, the best of mothers! 
 Well, the past is gone, and with it my childish, 
 boyish follies: they have all been forgiven long 
 ago, and no more are to be forgiven in future. 
 That I am to get the first honor in my class is 
 conceded by all the class except four. These four 
 were considered equal competitors for it until I 
 entered the class, and they do not despair yet; 
 but they had as well, for they equal me in nothing 
 but mathematics, and do not excel me in that. 
 The funds that you allow me ($500 per annum) 
 are more than sufficient to meet all my college 
 expenses, and allow me occasional pleasure 
 rambles during the vacation. What I have writ 
 ten about my stand in college, you will of course 
 understand as intended only for a mother s eye. 
 
 "Your truly affectionate and grateful son, 
 
 . MITTEN." 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT COLLEGE 319 
 
 William s report of himself was fully confirmed 
 by his fellow-students of the village. He wrote 
 also an affectionate letter to Doctor Waddel, 
 thanking him for his many kindnesses, approving 
 of all his dealings with him, and censuring himself 
 for the rejection of his counsels, and disobedience 
 to his rules. Before this letter reached his old 
 preceptor, William s fame and prospects in college 
 had reached the school, where all considered them 
 selves interested in his reputation, and all rejoiced. 
 At his home the rejoicing was more intense, and all 
 the merchants of the place, and Mr. Sanders in 
 particular, congratulated themselves that they had 
 offered him no encouragement to become a mer 
 chant. There was one exception, to be sure, to 
 the general rejoicing, in the person of old Stewey 
 Anderson; and he only suspended his joy; for he 
 offered "to give his promissory note, payable 
 twelve months after date, for double joy, if Bill 
 Mitten held on that long." 
 
 " Billy, " said Stewey, " is a Belair colt ; he beats 
 everything for a quarter, but he can t stand a long 
 run, I m afraid; he s entered now for the four mile 
 heats, and I think he ll break down about the 
 second or third mile, sure." There was some 
 thing, too, that chilled the ardor of Dr. Hull s 
 delight, though no one knew what it was. But 
 
320 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 that he partook of the general feeling to some 
 extent, was manifest; for he never took a chew 
 of tobacco and grunted when William was 
 praised. 
 
 Up to the close of the fourth month of Master 
 Mitten s Sophomore year, he had almost entirely 
 neglected Mr. Markham s advice touching his 
 recreation hours; indeed, he hardly allowed him 
 self any recreation hours; but occasional visits 
 to a beautiful little Princeton lassie, by the name 
 of Amanda Ward, reminded him forcibly of his 
 remissness in this particular, and he resolved 
 forthwith to amend his ways. Miss Ward was not 
 pious, but she was sprightly, witty and graceful; 
 and for her age (she had hardly "entered her 
 teens,") she was not wanting in intellectual cul 
 ture. William s interest in her increased with 
 every visit to her, and his "recreation hours" 
 began to increase with his interest. The neces 
 sary consequence was, that his study hours became 
 more arduous. Still he maintained his reputation 
 and his place in his class, with only a hardly per 
 ceptible change, in the promptness and fluency 
 with which he disposed of his recitations. Soon 
 after his first visit to Miss Amanda, William s 
 talents were made known to her, as well as his 
 fortune, which was represented to be something 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT COLLEGE 321 
 
 under the square of what it really was. She was 
 quite too young and too romantic to have any 
 thing venal in her composition, and as his hand 
 some person, brilliant talents and interesting 
 conversation began to win upon her affections, 
 she became touchingly pensive. By as much as 
 she lost her vivacity, by so much did William s 
 interest in her increase. He loved her before, 
 and now he sympathized with her deeply and ten 
 derly. It was a floating sympathy, to be sure, 
 seeking like Noah s dove, a resting place and find 
 ing none ; but it was none the less sincere on that 
 account, and none the less appreciated by the 
 lovely object over which it hovered, and diffused 
 its grateful incense. Often from the gloom which 
 overshadowed the dear Amanda, would she send 
 forth mellow twinklings, like those which sport 
 upon the bosom of an evening cloud, and which 
 would irradiate the countenance of her anxious 
 friend for a moment; but he could not persuade 
 her to reveal the cause of her depression. 
 
 Under the combined force of love, sympathy, 
 anxiety and suspense, William s spirits forsook 
 him, he became sad and gloomy, and study became 
 irksome to him. Late sittings with Miss Amanda, 
 and then much later sittings to make up the lost 
 time, began to make inroads upon William s 
 
322 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 health, and all his fair prospects would probably 
 have been blighted before the close of the term, 
 had he not determined to act upon conjecture 
 as to Miss Ward s anguish of mind. He judged, 
 not without good reason, that it proceeded from 
 love to him, and that she was wasting away under 
 the consuming passion, because she supposed 
 that it was not reciprocated. He resolved, there 
 fore, with becoming frankness to unbosom him 
 self to her and offer her his hand. Accordingly, 
 at their next interview, he thus addressed her: 
 
 "Miss Ward, you know that I am not blind to 
 your despondency, and, by a thousand proofs, you 
 know that I am not indifferent to it. Believe me, 
 that my oft repeated enquiries into the cause of it 
 were prompted by a purer and holier motive than 
 mere idle curiosity. No, Miss Ward, the heart 
 which is not touched with the griefs of the gentler 
 sex, must be insensible indeed ; such an one, I am 
 sure, was never reared in the genial clime of the 
 Sunny South. He who could obtrude a selfish 
 curiosity into the hallowed sanctuary of woman s 
 sorrows, never breathed the balmy zephyrs which 
 waft the odors of the magnolia and the orange. 
 Twas sympathy, Miss Ward, which prompted 
 my questions an honest desire to share your 
 griefs, if I could not relieve them. Your generous 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT COLLEGE 323 
 
 nature will appreciate my motives, and pardon 
 one more question the last, if answered nega 
 tively: Am I in any way, directly or indirectly, 
 connected with your mental perturbations?" 
 
 Torrents of tears from the eyes of the fair 
 Amanda relieved her gallant suitor s suspense, 
 while she struggled for utterance with her irre 
 pressible emotions. At length she spoke: 
 
 "Mister Mitten, your noble nature assures me 
 that I may trust the dearest secret of my heart to 
 you, without fear that you will ever betray the 
 trust, under any changes of feeling, time or place. 
 I frankly own that I am and have long been most 
 ardently attached to you. I have sometimes 
 thought hoped that our attachment was mu 
 tual. Yet why did I hope it? When I knew that 
 we never could be united?" 
 
 "Knew that we could never be united, my 
 dearest Amanda?" 
 
 "Never, never, never!" exclaimed Amanda, 
 burying her face in her handkerchief, and sobbing 
 convulsively. 
 
 "Then I am doomed to wretchedness for life!" 
 ejaculated Mister Mitten. "Amanda, you are 
 my first love " 
 
 "And you are mine, William. My first, my 
 last, my only love. When you return to the land 
 
3 2 4 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 of birds and of flowers, object of my adoration, 
 send back a thought to your poor, unfortunate, 
 heart-broken Amanda. " 
 
 "Amanda," said William, in tears, "you said 
 you would entrust the dearest secret of your heart 
 to me: tell me then what insuperable obstacle 
 there is to our union?" 
 
 " I never violate my promise, dearest William, 
 I am told that you are very, very rich ; and never 
 can I consent to marry a man with whom I cannot 
 be upon an equality a man who must ever feel 
 that he stooped to take his partner s hand; and 
 who may suppose that the poor trash of earth, 
 called wealth, had some influence upon her choice. 
 I should be the most miserable wretch upon earth, 
 to discover in the being I adore anything going 
 to show that he considered me his inferior, or 
 capable of loving him for anything but himself." 
 
 "These noble sentiments," responded Mister 
 Mitten, "exalt you higher, if possible, in my 
 estimation than ever. Know, then, thou sweetest, 
 purest, noblest of thy sex, that I am not rich " 
 
 " Not rich? Don t trifle with my feelings, Wil 
 liam!" 
 
 " I assure you, upon the honor of a gentleman, 
 that I am worth nothing. My mother owns a very 
 pretty estate, which, when divided between her 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT COLLEGE 325 
 
 three children, will give only a comfortable living 
 to each of them. " 
 
 " Oh, happiest moment of my life! * exclaimed 
 Amanda. " William, there is my hand, and with it 
 a heart that idolizes you, if you choose to take 
 them." 
 
 " I receive them, " said William, " and exchange 
 for them a hand and heart equally warm and 
 unwavering." 
 
 Their vows were plighted, and they separated in 
 ecstasies. 
 
 Fortunately for William this interview occurred 
 on Friday night; or it would have played the 
 mischief with his next day s recitation. 
 
 The next day William visited Miss Amanda 
 to arrange for the nuptials ; and however indis 
 creet and rash we may consider the engagement, 
 everybody must accord to them the highest pru 
 dence in settling the preliminaries of the nuptials. 
 
 The arrangement was that Mister Mitten (so we 
 must now call him, as he is engaged to be married) 
 should go on and complete his education, return to 
 Georgia and spend two or three months with his 
 family, then go to Litchfield, Connecticut, and 
 attend Judge Reeves Law Lectures for one year, 
 revisit Georgia, get admitted to the bar as soon 
 as possible, return to Princeton, and consummate 
 
326 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 the marriage. Could old Parr himself, and a lady 
 his equal in years, have ordered things more 
 wisely! As soon as matters were thus happily 
 arranged, Mr. Mitten said : 
 
 " 1 have reflected a great deal, my dear Amanda, 
 upon matrimonial engagements, and I have 
 brought my mind to the conclusion long ago, that 
 there is a radical error in regard to them, too com 
 mon in the world. Let us reform it at least as 
 far as we can. I allude to the secrecy with which 
 such engagements are kept by the parties to 
 them" 
 
 Miss Amanda started. "Why, if the parties 
 are sincere and mean to be constant to each other, 
 should they object to the world s knowing of their 
 engagement? Were it generally known how few 
 matches would be broken off! What man of 
 honor would pay his addresses to a lady whom 
 he knew to be pledged to another ! What woman 
 of honor would receive the addresses of a man 
 whom she knew to be engaged! For my part, I 
 shall make no secret of our engagement, and then 
 if any man dare to pay you particular attention, I 
 shall hold him personally responsible " 
 
 " Oh, William, my dearest William, do not think 
 of such a thing! Our engagement must not be 
 breathed to a human being not even to father, 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT COLLEGE 327 
 
 mother, sister or brother. If our parents knew of 
 it, they would certainly break it off if they could, 
 on the ground of our age. Break it off! No, that 
 can never be. Sooner will the moon cease to shed 
 her placid beams upon the earth, sooner will this 
 heart cease to beat, than your Amanda forget her 
 vows, or human power make her break them. 
 But think of the troubles that may follow the 
 disclosure! Oh, William, I cannot bear a frown, 
 I cannot bear even a cold look from my dear, 
 sweet parents; and how would it rend my heart 
 to see them frown on you or receive you dis 
 tantly" 
 
 " And does Miss Ward suppose that her parents 
 would object to our alliance?" 
 
 "No, no, William; I m sure they will be de 
 lighted with it, at the proper time ; but think how 
 young we are! I have heard my father say that 
 the man who has grown daughters in Princeton 
 occupies a very delicate position. To forbid 
 them to receive the visits of students would be to 
 forbid them from receiving in the main, the very 
 best society that they could have, and to violate 
 the laws of hospitality ; but to encourage students 
 in making love to their daughters, was injustice to 
 the students, and treason to their distant parents. 
 Now, if he knew that we were engaged, he would 
 
328 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 be almost certain to send me away to some board 
 ing school and what pain would that give us! 
 And suppose another should address me ; does my 
 William think that there is another in this wide 
 world who can make the least impression on his 
 Amanda s heart? Can you doubt your Amanda s 
 constancy? Can you fear that anything on earth 
 could chill her first, her only love, in a few short 
 years? No, William, whether you remain true 
 or false, never, never, can I love another. The 
 very thought startles me like an electric shock. 
 The keenest pang I ever felt was at hearing my 
 mother say that my father was not her first love 
 I ought not to have mentioned it I have 
 never breathed it to another; but to you I may 
 entrust it, for we are soon to be one. From 
 you I can conceal nothing. But what agony did 
 the disclosure give me; you ll never mention 
 it, William?" 
 
 "Never, Amanda." 
 
 " I felt for days, weeks and months, as if I were 
 an orphan. Oh, how my heart sympathized with 
 my dear, sweet father ! He knew it when he mar 
 ried mother. They live happily together. But 
 it seems to me, the cruel, bitter thought must 
 sometimes present itself, this heart was once 
 another s this heart was not always mine, and, 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT COLLEGE 329 
 
 oh, what pain it must give ! And what is married 
 life, if there be anything in it to interrupt, even 
 for a moment, the constant stream of heavenly bliss 
 which it promises to hearts united in the silken 
 cords of pure, ecstatic, first-born love! There, 
 William, you are entrusted with every secret of 
 my heart." 
 
 Mr. Mitten was so charmed with Miss Amanda s 
 sentiments, and enraptured with her eloquence, 
 that he entirely forgot the text. He soon re 
 covered it, however, and after thanking Miss Ward 
 for her confidence, and promising to keep it sacred, 
 he said: 
 
 "Under all the peculiar circumstances of the 
 case, my dear Amanda, I will consent to keep our 
 engagement a secret; but, as a general rule, I 
 think there should be no secrecy in such matters. " 
 
 Mr. Mitten s mind being now disburdened he re 
 sumed his studies with alacrity, and maintained his 
 place to the close of the Sophomore year. The 
 vacation ensued, and the first five weeks of it 
 Mr. Mitten devoted to Miss Amanda. He took her 
 out almost daily on pleasure rides, lavished pres 
 ents upon her of the most costly jewelry, books, 
 engravings, and love-tokens innumerable; and, 
 strange to tell, Miss Amanda received them without 
 rebuking this ill-advised waste of his humble 
 
330 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 patrimony. Nor was Mr. Mitten less attentive to 
 the decoration of his own person than of Miss 
 Amanda s. He laid in a profusion of coats, vests, 
 pants, gloves, stockings, boots, shoes, pumps 
 and under garments, all at the highest prices, and 
 in the most fashionable style. To his other pur 
 chases he added an elegant watch, chain, seals and 
 key, and a handsome diamond breastpin. Many 
 of these things were purchased upon a short credit, 
 to be paid for as soon as he could get remittances 
 from home. With all his accomplishments there 
 was one wanting to make him perfect in Miss 
 Amanda s eye, and that was, "the poetry of 
 motion." Herein Miss Amanda excelled, and she 
 urged him to put himself under Monsieur Coupee, to 
 add this to his many graces. She said that she was 
 very fond of cotillon parties, but that they had lost 
 all interest to her since she learned that he did not 
 dance. He took her advice. As "the poetry of 
 motion," cotillon measure, consists entirely of 
 anapestics and dactyls, performed with alternate 
 feet, Mr. Mitten soon mastered this accomplish 
 ment. Thus went off the first month and a quar 
 ter of the vacation. 
 
 With all his expenditures he had taken care to 
 reserve money enough, as he supposed, to spend a 
 few days in Morristown, a week in Newark, and a 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT COLLEGE 33 i 
 
 week in New York, without exhausting his funds. 
 At the commencement of his sixth week of the 
 vacation he set out for Morristown. Here lived 
 a classmate of his, who insisted upon his spending 
 a week with him. Mitten consented. A round of 
 parties ensued, all of which he attended, and at 
 all of which he played havoc with the hearts of the 
 girls of Morristown. From his classmate the re 
 port soon spread through the village, that he was 
 the first scholar in his class, and immensely rich. 
 These things conspiring with his fine person, grace 
 ful manners, and agreeable conversation, made him 
 absolutely irresistible. Now there happened to 
 be in Morristown at this time, a young lady from 
 South Carolina, of the Bethlehem School, who was 
 spending her vacation with a relative of the 
 village, or rather making Morristown her head 
 quarters for the vacation. Her name was Louisa 
 Green, she was behind Miss Ward in nothing, and 
 one hundred thousand dollars ahead of her in 
 point of fortune. Miss Green and Mr. Mitten 
 being both from the South, naturally formed a 
 strong partiality for each other ; of course it did not 
 amount to love on William s part, but it amounted 
 to love palpably on Louisa s part. As she 
 was from the South, William felt himself bound 
 to pay her particular attentions. Accordingly 
 
332 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 he did all that he could to make her time pass 
 agreeably during his stay in Morristown. He 
 could but observe the tokens of her favor, and they 
 awakened in him a tender compassion. She had 
 appointed to visit a schoolmate in Elizabethtown, 
 five days after the time when he was to leave for 
 Newark. He offered to wait and accompany her. 
 This threw him five days longer on his friend s 
 hospitality than he contracted for, but he was 
 welcome. She accepted his offer thankfully. 
 They went he was introduced to her young 
 friend, who prevailed upon him to spend two or 
 three days in Elizabethtown. He consented 
 parties commenced on the second day after his 
 arrival, and were kept up with but short intervals 
 for nine days. The scenes of Morristown were 
 renewed. He had set every day for the last six, 
 for leaving Elizabethtown, but something or other 
 always delayed his departure. The schoolmates 
 of Elizabethtown planned a visit to a third, in 
 New York, for a few days. As this jumped with 
 William s plans exactly, and promised to make 
 his visit to New York pleasurable infinitely be 
 yond his anticipations, he proposed to accompany 
 the young ladies. They accepted his proposition 
 with pleasure. It required three days to prepare 
 the young ladies for their contemplated trip, and 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT COLLEGE 333 
 
 these embraced the opening of the college term. 
 Time had run off so merrily that he had not kept 
 count of it, and he was thunderstruck when a 
 question put to him about the college, reminded 
 him that the term opened on the day before he was 
 to leave with his fair companions for New York. 
 What was he to do? Violate his pledge to the 
 young ladies? That would never do. 
 
 He determined to conduct them to New York, 
 and hasten on to college. When he came to settle 
 up his bills in Elizabethtown, he was thunder 
 struck again; they were four times as large as he 
 anticipated, and in counting up his cash, he found 
 that he had barely enough to take him to New 
 York and back to Princeton. The ladies were 
 delayed a day beyond the appointed time by some 
 accident. Mr. Mitten was in torments. It was 
 certain that his funds would give out before he 
 reached Princeton ; and here in a land of strangers, 
 what was he to do? In this emergency, it had 
 just occurred to him that he had been very remiss 
 in not paying his respects to Mr. Beach, and he 
 concluded to spend a part of the spare day with 
 this kind friend. Mr. Beach hardly knew him 
 when he presented himself at his door, so changed 
 was he in everything. After a visit of an hour 
 William said: "Mr. Beach, I have been out 
 
334 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 spending the vacation, and my expenses, have been 
 so much heavier than I expected that I have got 
 out of money ; if you could favor me so far as to 
 loan me thirty dollars, I will give you an order on 
 Mr. Sanders for the amount, or I will send it to 
 you as soon as I get back to college. " " Certainly, 
 William," said Mr. Beach, " I will take the order, 
 and if you pay it when you get to college, I will 
 send it to you." The money was loaned, and 
 William returned to Elizabethtown rejoicing. 
 On their way to New York he suggested to Miss 
 Green that the college term had opened and that 
 on the day after their arrival in New York he 
 would be compelled to return to college. She 
 expressed her regrets that they must part, prob 
 ably never to meet again, but hoped that they 
 would renew their acquaintance, after their return 
 home. William proposed a friendly correspon 
 dence ad interim. She said that she could not 
 promise that, as the pupils of her school were for 
 bidden to correspond with young gentlemen; but 
 if he chose to write to her she had no objections. 
 On their arrival in New York, the news greeted 
 them that on the evening of the next day two of 
 the greatest tragedians of the age were to appear 
 in the principal parts of Shakespeare s Othello. 
 William had never seen a play acted by professed 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT COLLEGE 335 
 
 performers, and "as he had overstayed his time 
 anyhow, and one day more could not make much 
 difference, " he determined to prolong his visit that 
 far, and take the ladies to the theater. He pro 
 cured tickets for the three young ladies, but as the 
 father of the one whom the others were visiting, 
 chose to accompany them all to the theater, and 
 furnish tickets himself, William had two on hand 
 either to use or throw away at his option. He was 
 transported with the performance. Hamlet was 
 announced for the next night; but as the ladies 
 declined going to the theater two nights in succes 
 sion, he went alone. Macbeth was announced for 
 the next night; and as all the girls must see this 
 play, they went as before, William accompanying. 
 The day following he left for Princeton, and 
 reached there with just seventy-five cents in his 
 pocket. 
 
 His classmate of Morristown (Johnson by name) 
 brought down his history to his departure from 
 that village. " He went off, " said Johnson, " after 
 a beautiful accomplished South Carolina heiress, 
 worth a cool hundred thousand in cash, with kinky- 
 heads according; and he has only to stretch out 
 his hand to her and she ll snatch at it; for every 
 body sees that she is over head and ears in love 
 with him, as indeed all the girls in Morristown are ; 
 
336 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 for Bill is death among the pullets. " This report 
 mitigated the anxiety of his Georgian companions 
 concerning him, but did not entirely relieve them; 
 for they feared the consequences of William s 
 change of habits, not only upon his stand in college, 
 but upon his future life. . 
 
 We have said that he had four competitors for 
 the first honor, but there was only one of them that 
 he had cause to dread, for though the five were 
 equal in mathematics, there was but one who 
 approached him in other studies. This was Talia- 
 ferro (pronounced Toliver) of Virginia. When at 
 the opening of the term, the class appeared to recite 
 in mathematics, and Taliaferro found Mitten absent, 
 his countenance kindled with delight. His delight 
 increased with every recitation in this study, until 
 it came to the fifth. As he retired from this he 
 said triumphantly, " I ve got him safe I ve got 
 this brilliant young Georgian just as the owl had 
 the hen, so that he can neither back nor squall. 
 With his head full of girls and fortune, if ever he 
 keeps up with the class, and makes up five lost 
 lessons, he is a smarter man than I think he is, 
 and I think he is the smartest I ever saw." 
 Taliaferro thus spoke because he well knew that a 
 lost recitation in mathematics is almost as fatal 
 to farther progress in the science as the loss of 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT COLLEGE 337 
 
 one of the nine digits would be to enumeration. 
 And yet if William had determined to do it, he 
 could have made up his deficiencies before the end 
 of the Junior year, and thrown Taliaferro far in 
 his rear in the Senior year. Why he did not, we 
 shall see. When called to account for his absence 
 he said "he was necessarily detained." 
 
 Having followed Mitten s movements during the 
 vacation, let us now unveil some of his thoughts 
 and reflections accompanying these movements. 
 " Here it is now, " mused he on the fifth day of his 
 acquaintance with Miss Green. " If Amanda had 
 not made me promise to keep our engagement 
 secret, I could now tell Louisa of it, and let her 
 understand the true ground of my attentions to 
 her ; but as it is, I must either be distant to her 
 which would be unpardonable in me as she is from 
 the South or I must encourage her attachment 
 which is plainly visible and growing. Amanda 
 will hear of my intentions through Johnson, and 
 suppose I am after Louisa s fortune. No, dear 
 girl, fortune shall never make me sacrifice my word 
 and my honor. " 
 
 On the seventh day: " It was very indiscreet in 
 Amanda to exact that promise from me, I don t 
 know how to act under it. " 
 
 Ninth day: "Hang that silly promise! I ll 
 
 22 
 
338 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 keep it, but I fear I shall never feel towards 
 Amanda as I should have felt if she had not ex 
 torted it from me. I was too hasty in making it ; 
 in fact I was too hasty in the whole matter. Well, 
 whatever may come of it, I shall not forego duty 
 to a Southern friend, far from home, because I 
 happen to be engaged." 
 
 On the day he visited Mr. Beach: "What a 
 botheration it is to want money ! I doubt whether 
 Amanda will ever be satisfied to live in Georgia. 
 I wish she was not quite so romantic. It was very 
 imprudent in her to speak of her father and mother 
 as she did to me I don t believe one can love truly 
 but once; I believe I could love Louisa just as 
 ardently as I love her, if I would allow myself 
 to do so." 
 
 On the day he left New York: "One hundred 
 thousand dollars! I wish I had fifty of it now. 
 What a sum it is! Enough to last a man s life 
 time, and satisfy every desire of his heart. One 
 hundred thousand dollars, and a beautiful intelli 
 gent lovely Southern girl to boot ! Amanda ought 
 to adore me for resisting such a temptation for 
 her sake." 
 
 On reaching Princeton, he went immediately to 
 see Amanda and found her in deep distress. She 
 said " she had been meditating suicide, but could 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT COLLEGE 339 
 
 not leave the world without one more last, long 
 ing, lingering look upon her William. " Upon his 
 assuring her, however, that he was not engaged 
 to Miss Green, that he had not proposed himself to 
 her, and that he would have informed her of his 
 engagement if he had not been forbidden to do 
 so, Miss Amanda was greatly comforted, inso 
 much that she concluded to postpone the suicide 
 until a more suitable season. She entertained 
 him with a melting narrative of her soliloquies 
 and tears over breastpins, lockets and the like, 
 which, as it came just at the time when he was 
 terribly pinched for money, produced a double 
 sympathy or rather an oscillating sympathy, 
 which played so equally between himself and Miss 
 Amanda, that she could not understand it, and 
 took it for coldness. They parted, however, with 
 renewed professions of love. 
 
 Markham, Thomson and Brown had together 
 paid a short visit to Philadelphia, Trenton and 
 Monmouth, early in the vacation, and returned 
 to Princeton. On their return, Brown enclosed 
 a fifty-dollar bill* in a letter to Mr. Markham, 
 saying : " I have saved this much out of my allow- 
 
 * At this time Jersey bank bills were just as current in Georgia as gold 
 and silver. The first one-dollar bill that ever was seen in Georgia was from 
 a Jersey bank. 
 
340 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 ance without stinting myself in the least. If you 
 think it would not be wrong to appropriate it to my 
 mother s necessities, please deal it out to her as she 
 needs. Apply all of it but what is absolutely 
 necessary to keep my mother above want, to the 
 schooling of my two little sisters. But if you think 
 that I have no right to use the money in this way, 
 please return it to the kind gentlemen who raised 
 it for me ; and tell them that it is more than I need, 
 and I think in justice it ought to be returned to 
 them." 
 
 We need hardly say that this letter made John s 
 patrons feel much more like doubling than reduc 
 ing their contributions to him. 
 
 From New York William had written a letter to 
 his mother, setting forth that he had greatly mis 
 calculated in saying that five hundred dollars per 
 annum would be amply sufficient to pay his college 
 expenses. Traveling expenses, he said, far ex 
 ceeded his expectations ; that he had set out from 
 Princeton on a vacation ramble, with money 
 enough in hand, he thought, to pay his expenses 
 three times over, and after visiting only three 
 places, he was in New York with hardly money 
 enough to pay his reckoning, and get him back 
 to Princeton; and there his board and tuition 
 would have to be paid in advance. He concluded 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT COLLEGE 34 i 
 
 by begging her to send him on two hundred dollars 
 as speedily as possible. Here was the very place 
 for him to have informed his mother that he had 
 borrowed money from Mr. Beach, and to have 
 informed Mr. Sanders, through her, how he came 
 to draw on him. But he knew that it would mor 
 tify his mother exceedingly to learn that he was 
 repaying Mr. Beach s kindness by taxing his 
 purse; and he intended to stop the draft from 
 going to the drawee, by payment of it. Brown s 
 letter had a fortnight or more the start of Wil 
 liam s, and its contents were known to everybody 
 in the village in three days after it had reached 
 Mr. Markham. When William s letter therefore 
 reached home, it alarmed and distressed his mother 
 exceedingly. She gathered the money as soon as 
 she possibly could (borrowing a part of it) and 
 dispatched it to William, with a letter eloquently 
 expressive of her feelings : " How is it, my dear 
 boy, " said she, " that John Brown, with his limited 
 resources, can visit Philadelphia, Trenton and 
 Monmouth, and yet send hither fifty dollars out of 
 his income, to assist his poor mother, and school 
 his little sisters; and you cannot visit as many 
 places without exhausting your funds and requir 
 ing two hundred dollars over?" The whole letter 
 would fill every reader s eyes with tears; but we 
 
342 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 have not time and space for it here. By the 
 shortest possible course of mail William could not 
 receive an answer to his letter in less than a 
 month from its date. In the meantime he must 
 be shut out of college, if he could not raise the 
 tuition fees at least. His only course was to bor 
 row. He went to his cousin David, who loaned 
 him fifteen dollars, all "he had over/ as the 
 merchants say. He went to Markham, and he 
 readily loaned him twenty dollars saying, "this 
 is all I have, but go to Brown, I know he has 
 over fifty dollars, for we compared notes when 
 we got back to college." He went to Brown and 
 asked the loan of fifteen dollars. " William," said 
 Brown, " I would loan it to you with a great deal of 
 pleasure, but I have it not here are three dollars, 
 all I ve got, which you are welcome to, if it will be of 
 any service to you." William looked on him furi 
 ously and said: "Brown, if I don t raise fifteen 
 dollars I can t get back into college, and I know 
 you have that much, and three times that much." 
 " William, I give you my word of honor I have but 
 three dollars in the world. How can you suppose 
 that I would not loan it to you if I had it? If 
 there s anything I have, by sale of which you can 
 raise the amount, go take it and sell it, with all 
 my heart." 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT COLLEGE 343 
 
 William wheeled off in a rage, and hastened to 
 Thomson and Markham, saying, " Who could be 
 lieve it possible that John Brown would see me shut 
 out of college rather than loan me fifteen dollars. 
 He says he has but three dollars in the world!" 
 
 "John Brown says so!" exclaimed the two. 
 
 "Come," said Thomson, "let s go and bring 
 him face to face." 
 
 Away they went, and Brown, seeing them 
 coming, turned pale as a sheet. 
 
 "Look at his countenance," whispered William. 
 
 "John Brown," said Thomson, "did you tell 
 Cousin William that you hadn t fifteen dollars in 
 the world?" 
 
 " Yes, and I told him the truth." 
 
 "Didn t you tell George Markham and myself 
 that you brought back from your travels money 
 enough to pay tuition and board and leave you 
 over fifty dollars in hand?" 
 
 "Yes, I did; but I have disposed of fifty dollars 
 of it." 
 
 " How did you dispose of it?" 
 
 " I don t wish to tell, but in a way that all of you 
 would approve of if I were to tell you indeed I do 
 not know myself as yet, how it went." 
 
 "Did you ever hear such chat," said William, 
 " from anybody but an idiot since you were born! 
 
344 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 Disposed of it as we all would approve, and doesn t 
 know himself how he disposed of it!" 
 
 The boys wheeled off indignantly. 
 
 "Stop, boys," said Brown with streaming eyes, 
 " and I will explain." 
 
 "We want no explanation, sir," said William. 
 " Dig a mole out of the dirt and stick him on a 
 steeple, and he ll be a mole still." 
 
 No pen can describe John s agony. He saw 
 himself deserted by the sons of his benefactors; 
 he knew that they all believed that he had lied, 
 and he knew that before the morrow s sun it 
 would be trumpeted all through the college that 
 the bright Mitten was kept from his class by his 
 meanness. In the midst of his horrors, the bell 
 summoned him to his recitation. The class was 
 arranged alphabetically, and his name was the 
 first on the list. The professor called on him; 
 he rose, tried to suppress his emotions, but could 
 not ; and he resumed his seat, his bosom heaving, 
 and his eyes streaming as though his heart would 
 break. The class stood aghast, and the professor 
 looked sad; for Brown had not been remiss in a 
 single college duty. Keen as was his anguish, it 
 would have been aggravated heavily but for 
 George Markham s prudence. 
 
 " Boys," said he, " it isn t worth while to spread 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT COLLEGE 345 
 
 this thing through the college at least let us wait 
 awhile before we do it. Remember that he is a 
 Georgian, has been our intimate friend, and it will 
 be flung up to us upon all occasions. And after 
 all, I never knew John Brown to tell a lie in my 
 life, and he may be enabled to explain the matter." 
 
 After some debate they agreed to keep the 
 matter to themselves. That very day John 
 received tidings of his father s death, and as 
 nobody thought of enquiring as to the precise time 
 when he received the intelligence, it was regarded 
 by the class as the cause of his emotion in the 
 recitation room, and by his three friends as an 
 additional inducement to deal tenderly with him. 
 Thomson borrowed the fifteen dollars for Wil 
 liam, and he joined his class. 
 
 Thus stood matters when Mrs. Mitten s letter 
 was received. As soon as William read it, he 
 hastened to Thomson and Markham s room with 
 it, handed it to his cousin, flung himself into a 
 seat, dropped his forehead, hands-covered, on his 
 knees, and wept bitterly. Thomson read it, and 
 passed it in sobs to Markham. He was not so 
 much affected, and spoke first: 
 
 "The Lord be praised that we kept our notions 
 of John s conduct from the college. Why this, 
 and our coldness, and his father s death all coming 
 
346 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 upon him at once, would have killed the poor 
 fellow. He s almost heart-broken, anyhow. 
 What a warning is this to us against acting hastily 
 in such matters! Let us send for him, and relieve 
 both him and ourselves immediately." He was 
 sent for, and as soon as he entered the room, they 
 all rushed to him and embraced him together. 
 
 "Oh, John," continued Markham, "we know 
 what you did with your fifty dollars, and we 
 are all ashamed of ourselves." 
 
 "John," said William, "I beg your pardon ten 
 thousand times " 
 
 "And I." 
 
 "John," said William, "how could you say, you 
 didn t know as yet how your money went?" 
 
 " Because I didn t know that it would be right in 
 me to take money raised for my education, and 
 apply it to the use of my mother and sisters; so I 
 sent it to Mr. Markham and told him, if he thought 
 I had no right to use it in this way, to return it to 
 the gentlemen who raised it for me, and I don t 
 know which way it went, even now, for Mr. Mark- 
 ham said nothing to me about it in the letter 
 reporting my father s death." 
 
 "John," continued William, "I never shall 
 forgive myself for my treatment of you. I had 
 some apology for suspecting you of insincerity, 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT COLLEGE 347 
 
 but I had none for that vile, unfeeling, brutal 
 remark of mine " 
 
 " What remark, William?" 
 
 "About the mole." 
 
 "I didn t hear that." 
 
 " You didn t ! Thank heaven, that you did not, 
 but it s none the less mean on that account." 
 
 William paid the sums borrowed and his board ; 
 and now the merchants, tailors, shoemakers and 
 jewelers began to press him. They always press 
 at the opening and close of terms, because students 
 are then commonly full-handed; but they had 
 other reasons for pressing in this instance. The 
 balance of his two hundred dollars, save fifteen 
 reserved, went in less than a fortnight, without 
 paying more than fifty cents on the dollar of his 
 debts. Youth-like, he thought more of the annoy 
 ances of creditors than of their respective claims 
 upon his honor, and Mr. Beach was postponed to 
 the most ravenous. Some of these, all of whom 
 understand well the art of milking students, said, 
 " that they were not in the habit of crediting stu 
 dents, but that everybody represented Mr. Mitten 
 as such a brilliant, high-minded, rich and honor 
 able young man, that they would have trusted 
 him for half their goods." Others said, "that 
 relying certainly upon payment at this time, they 
 
34 8 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 had contracted debts on the faith of it, and if 
 disappointed, they did not know what was to be 
 come of them." Another said, " If Mr. Mitten 
 couldn t pay him all, he would be very glad to get 
 half the amount due, to keep his wife and children 
 from suffering." Thus they went on with every 
 variety of experiment upon his feelings, until he 
 began to think that his own character, the char 
 acter of the South, and all Princeton, were likely 
 to sink together in one common grave of indis 
 criminate ruin. Most of Mr. Mitten s debts had 
 been contracted within the past three months, 
 and many of the students, well posted in such mat 
 ters, testified with becoming indignation, that such 
 a thing was unheard of in the history of Princeton, 
 as dunning students for debts but three months 
 old; and two or three proposed, in vindication of 
 the time-honored usages of the place, to stone the 
 windows of the importunate creditors; but Mr. 
 Mitten, partly from the lights of Mr. Markham s 
 counsels, and partly from his own good sense, 
 opposed all violent measures, as he could not see 
 how these would sustain his credit or cancel his 
 debts. But there were two specialties which 
 hurried the creditors; the one was, that Mr. 
 Mitten had promised to pay them at the opening 
 of the term, and the other was, that Miss Amanda, 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT COLLEGE 349 
 
 either from love of truth, or the truth of love, had 
 corrected the popular opinion of Mr. Mitten s 
 vast wealth, and represented him, upon his own 
 authority, as not only not very rich, but very 
 poor. The torments of creditors abated consider 
 ably the rapture with which Mr. Mitten was wont 
 to view the ornaments of Miss Ward s person, 
 interfered with his studies, and set his thoughts 
 to running upon filthy lucre. He commenced 
 his friendly correspondence with Miss Green. His 
 first letter was exceedingly friendly. He waited 
 the proper time for an answer ; but received none. 
 He wrote another, still more friendly, but received 
 no answer. He wrote another in the very agony 
 of friendship. To this he received the following 
 answer : 
 
 "All your letters have been received. They 
 have given the principal of the school great un 
 easiness, and me great delight. He knows only 
 whence they come ; know you whither they have 
 gone? into the most hallowed chamber of my 
 heart. Mail your letters anywhere but at Prince 
 ton; my answers will be returned through a con 
 fidante in Morristown. 
 
 "YOUR LOUISA." 
 
 Thenceforward Mr. Mitten could hardly do any 
 thing but write letters. The two friends soon 
 
350 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 became so much attached to each other that they 
 interchanged pledges of perpetual union. The 
 "hundred thousand dollars" were now safe, and 
 college honors sank to insignificance in the esti 
 mation of Mr. Mitten. He studied only to grad 
 uate, and in the short space of four months dropped 
 from the head below the middle of his class. The 
 " hundred thousand" were a good way off, and his 
 demands for money were immediate and pressing. 
 To meet the exigencies of the present time, he 
 concluded to try his skill at cards with the " Reg 
 ular Panel" of Princeton. He was very success 
 ful, but still he forgot Mr. Beach. The Club, 
 of course, had refreshments, to counteract the 
 effects of sedentary habits and constant watchings. 
 They met at Mr. Mitten s room, and, as he had 
 been very successful, he was very liberal in his 
 supplies of good cheer. The young gentlemen 
 enjoyed themselves quietly until about one o clock 
 A. M., when they became rather troublesome to a 
 professor in an adjoining dormitory. The pro 
 fessor rose, dressed himself, and went to Mitten s 
 room door listened awhile and knocked. 
 
 "Walk in," said Mitten. 
 
 The professor attempted to open the door, but 
 it was locked. A shuffling of feet, a moving of 
 chairs and a rattling of glasses were heard, and 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT COLLEGE 351 
 
 the door was opened. The professor stepped in, 
 found a table set out in the middle of the room, 
 with two candles on it, burnt down nearly to the 
 socket two fellows on Mitten s bed with all their 
 clothes on, fast asleep two more in his roommate s 
 bed, covered over with a counterpane, except 
 as to the heel of one boot another just undressing 
 to go to bed under same counterpane (at least he 
 was near that bed) another seated at the table 
 studying the Greek Lexicon while Mr. Mitten, 
 who opened the door, was pacing the room in 
 manifest indignation. Though not exactly in 
 toxicated, he had stimulated his nervous system 
 up to an unwonted degree of independence 
 while the professor was very coolly making 
 further observations (for he was a man of 
 nerve). 
 
 "Well, sir," said Mitten, "I hope you have 
 nosed about a dormitory in which you have no 
 business, to your satisfaction." (Here one of the 
 sleepers, whose face was to the lights, turned 
 abruptly over with a sleepy snort; and the Greek 
 student saw a funny word in the Lexicon at which 
 he gave a little chuckle.) 
 
 "Not quite," said the professor, calmly. 
 
 "Well, sir," continued Mitten, "I think I can 
 convince the faculty, and if not the faculty, the 
 
352 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 trustees, that you have no right to be poking about 
 another professor s dormitory of nights." 
 
 " Maybe so," said the professor coolly, still 
 poking about. 
 
 This was the Professor of Mathematics, who had 
 repeatedly provoked Mr. Mitten by pressing ques 
 tions upon him at recitation which he could not 
 answer. This is considered very impolite in all 
 colleges. 
 
 Alas, for the stability of human happiness! 
 Just before the fatal vacation of which we have 
 spoken, Mrs. Mitten was as happy as she could be 
 on earth. Her two daughters had married men 
 of worth, position and fortune, and were comfort 
 ably settled in counties adjoining that in which 
 she resided. Her son, already distinguished, was 
 on the high road to preferment, and her mind 
 was at peace with her maker and the world. What 
 changes a few months more wrought in her destiny ! 
 
 The events with which we concluded the last 
 chapter occurred on Friday night, running into 
 Saturday morning. On Monday morning the 
 faculty met and Mr. Mitten was summoned before 
 them. 
 
 "Mitten," said the President, "you are charged 
 with keeping a disorderly room with keeping 
 intoxicating liquors in your room with drinking 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT COLLEGE 353 
 
 intoxicating liquors with playing cards, and with 
 insulting Professor Plus on Friday night last." 
 
 "May I be permitted," enquired Mitten, "to 
 ask upon what evidence these charges are brought 
 against me?" 
 
 " I do not think, " said the President, " that you 
 have a right to demand the evidence until you 
 deny the charges." 
 
 "I hope," said Professor Plus, "that I shall be 
 permitted to put Mr. Mitten in possession of the 
 evidence upon which the charges are founded, 
 before he is required to answer them." 
 
 The President nodded consent. 
 
 " About twelve o clock or a little after, on Friday 
 night last, I was waked out of sleep by a noise in 
 the dormitory adjoining mine. It was not con 
 tinuous, but fitful, and therefore the more annoy 
 ing ; for with every intermission I flattered myself 
 it would cease, and I would just get into a doze, 
 when I was roused by it again. I endured it for 
 about an hour, when I rose, dressed myself, went 
 out, and found that the noise proceeded from 
 Mitten s room. I approached the door, and 
 paused for a moment ; just as I reached it, I heard 
 five thumps on the table in quick succession, 
 followed by a yell and profane swearing. But 
 for Mitten s jack of hearts/ said a voice that I 
 
354 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 took to be Johnson, 1 should have taken the pool. 
 He plays the devil with hearts. Rabb, said one, 
 you were looed. No, I wasn t, said Rabb, I 
 didn t stand. It s Mitten s deal, said another. 
 No, it isn t, said a third, he dealt last time. 
 Here I knocked and was told to walk in, but I 
 found the door locked. After much shuffling 
 and rattling of glasses, I was admitted. Upon 
 entering the room, my olfactories were assailed 
 strongly with the fumes of wine and brandy." 
 The professor proceeded with the details which we 
 have already given the reader. 
 
 "President S , " said Mitten, "suppose a 
 professor of this institution should take up a strong 
 prejudice against a student, should seek all oppor 
 tunities of mortifying him and wounding his feel 
 ings, and in order to bring him before the faculty, 
 plainly and palpably violate the laws of college 
 has the student any redress, and how?" 
 
 "Mr. Mitten," said the President, "our time is 
 too precious to be occupied with the discussion 
 and settlement of hypothetical cases; but if you 
 have been thus aggrieved, you should seek redress 
 of the faculty, and if you do not find it here, you 
 should appeal to the trustees." 
 
 "So I supposed," said Mr. Mitten, "and I am 
 now ready to answer the charges brought against 
 
; WILLIAM MITTEN AT COLLEGE 355 
 
 me, and to lay my complaints before the fac 
 ulty." 
 
 He now delivered a flaming speech, in a remark 
 ably fine style for one of his age. As to the first 
 charge, he said that "keeping a disorderly room" 
 certainly implied something more than having 
 disorder in his room for a single evening. So of 
 "keeping intoxicating liquors in his room." As 
 to "drinking intoxicating liquors," he said he 
 would answer that with the last charge. He ad 
 mitted there was card -playing, but asserted posi 
 tively that there was not a bank bill, a piece of 
 gold or silver staked on the game that the pool 
 spoken of consisted of nothing but button-molds. 
 
 " Mr. Mitten, " said the President, " didn t those 
 button-molds represent quarters, half dollars, or 
 dollars, or some other denomination of money? " 
 
 " Really, Dr. S , I cannot see how little 
 
 bits of bone could represent money. A bill 
 represents money, because it contains on its face 
 a promise to pay money; but " 
 
 "Go on with your defense, Mr. Mitten," said 
 the President. 
 
 " Before I answer the last charge," continued 
 Mitten, " I beg leave to read a law of the college: 
 One of the Professors shall room in each dormitory, 
 whose special duty it shall be to visit the rooms, and 
 
356 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 keep order therein. Now, gentlemen of the faculty 
 (I only address such), you perceive that Professor 
 Plus had no right to visit rooms out of his dormi 
 tory. My dormitory was in charge of Professor 
 Syncope, a man not more remarkable for his gi 
 gantic intellect than he is for his courtesy, kindness 
 and easy familiarity with the students. He heard 
 no noise, continuous or fitful. He was not dis 
 turbed, and it is very strange that one out of the 
 dormitory should have been annoyed and disturbed 
 by noises kept up for near an hour, which one in 
 the dormitory heard nothing of. I know that one 
 professor may have much more sensitive nerves 
 than another, and be much more given to watch- 
 ings and other imbecilities, but these differences 
 will hardly account for the wonderful fact, that the 
 one should have been kept awake an hour by 
 noises, which the other, more likely to be dis 
 turbed by them, should not have heard at all. 
 But, admitting that Professor Plus was disturbed 
 by the noise, and admitting that the noise was 
 twice as loud and twice as long continued as it was, 
 I deny his right to come into another professor s 
 dormitory to suppress it. The law is clear upon 
 this point. The law says, that there shall be one 
 professor in each dormitory; Professor Plus says 
 there shall be two at least when he takes a 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT COLLEGE 35 7 
 
 nervous fit. How far his interference with Pro 
 fessor Syncope s prerogative comport with cour 
 tesy and delicacy, it is not my province to deter 
 mine ; but I have a right to see to it that I am not 
 injured by the intrusion. While Professor Plus 
 was in that dormitory, I regarded him as no pro 
 fessor at all as having no right to enter my room. 
 No one has a higher respect for the professors of 
 this institution than I have ; but when a professor 
 so far forgets his high and dignified position, as to 
 turn persecutor of those over whom he is placed 
 as a protector and instructor, to trample the law 
 of college under foot, to usurp authority which 
 does not belong to him, to forget the comity due 
 to his associates, to pretend to superhuman 
 powers of the olfactories, in distinguishing the 
 odor of liquors assailing them at once and at the 
 same time, to consort with owls, bats, wolves and 
 hyenas " 
 
 " Stop , Mr. Mitten, " said the President, " I can 
 not sit here and hear a professor so grossly insulted 
 without interposing for his protection." 
 
 "I mentioned no names," said Mitten, "and 
 if the cap fits " 
 
 "I hope," said Professor Plus, smiling in com 
 mon with the other professors, "I hope that the 
 young gentleman will be permitted to finish his 
 
35 3 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 speech. I speak candidly and sincerely when I 
 say that I have rarely, if ever, had such an intel 
 lectual entertainment from one of his years. I 
 will thank him, however, to explain to me wherein 
 I assumed the character of a persecutor. All 
 the rest of his speech I understand perfectly, but 
 as to this part I am wholly in the dark. " 
 
 "You have called upon Marshall, Morton and 
 myself to recite oftener than any other three stu 
 dents in the class, " said Mitten. 
 
 "I was not apprised of that," returned the 
 professor, "though in all probability it is true. 
 The class is alphabetically arranged, and I com 
 monly begin the recitation first at one extreme of 
 the list, then at the other, and then at the middle. 
 It is frequently the case that there are not proposi 
 tions enough to engage the whole class, and when 
 ever that is the case, those near the middle will 
 have to recite, no matter at which end I begin. 
 Now as Mitten s name stands right between Mar 
 shall s and Morton s, and in the middle of the class, 
 I commonly begin at him, if I do not commence at 
 either extreme, and if I go up from him, Morton 
 will not be called if I go down, Marshall will not 
 be. This will explain the matter, and I am very 
 happy to find that you have no other ground to 
 base the charge of persecution upon than this. 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT COLLEGE 359 
 
 Time was, when Mitten regarded it no persecu 
 tion to be called on often to recite. " 
 
 " How much oftener have Marshall and Morton 
 been called up than the rest of the class?" 
 
 "Once." 
 
 "And you?" 
 
 "Twice." 
 
 "Mr. Mitten," said the President, "you will 
 retire if you please." He did so, and in a few 
 minutes he was recalled to receive the judgment 
 of the faculty, which, without a dissenting voice, 
 was that he be expelled. In delivering the sen 
 tence the President addressed him very feelingly 
 deplored the abuses to which he was subjecting 
 his extraordinary mind, and exposed the absurdity 
 of any student supposing that a professor could 
 take up a prejudice against a moral, orderly stu 
 dent. He referred to a law, which Mr. Mitten had 
 entirely overlooked, making it the general duty of 
 all the professors to preserve order in the College, 
 and see that its laws were obeyed. The President 
 having concluded, 
 
 " Dr. S , " said Mitten, " will you favor me so 
 
 far as to tell me what I am expelled for? " 
 
 " Certainly, " said the President ; "for keeping 
 or if you like the term better for having a dis 
 orderly room; for having and drinking intoxi- 
 
360 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 eating liquors in your room, for gambling in your 
 room, and for grossly insulting a professor in your 
 room, and still more grossly before the whole 
 faculty/ 
 
 " Was there any proof that I drank liquor. " 
 
 " No positive proof, but quite enough to satisfy 
 our minds of it. " 
 
 "Gambling implies that we played for money 
 was there any proof of that? " 
 
 "Abundant proof; but we have not time now 
 to give the reasons of our opinion upon the several 
 charges. Suffice it to say that you have not 
 denied a single one of them; and as for this one, 
 we are constrained to believe that six young gentle 
 men would not have set up till one o clock in the 
 morning playing for button-molds." 
 
 " But four of them had actually gone to bed, 
 and another was undressing to go to bed when 
 Professor Plus entered." 
 
 "Yes, but they must have sat up very late; for 
 they were so completely exhausted that they 
 could not take time to undress; and so sleepy, 
 that between the knock at the door and the open 
 ing of it, they all fell sound asleep. They monopo 
 lized all the beds in the room, too, leaving you and 
 your studious companion no place to sleep ; which 
 was exceedingly impolite, to say the least of it. 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT COLLEGE 361 
 
 And here, Mr. Mitten, is the end of questions 
 and answers." 
 
 Mitten retired very much incensed, and appealed 
 not to the trustees, but to his fellow-students, for 
 justice. Nine espoused his cause. They dis 
 guised themselves, serenaded Professor Plus with 
 tin pans, horns, and other noisy instruments, 
 broke his windows, broke up his black-boards, 
 and placarded him in various ways and places. 
 Six were detected and expelled, of whom David 
 Thomson was one. Three escaped for want of 
 proof against them. Thus far Thomson had 
 been hurried on by blind impulse; but now the 
 hour of sober reason had returned, and he was 
 overwhelmed with the troubles which gathered 
 upon him. He was disgraced near the close of a 
 creditable collegiate career. He had not money 
 to bear his expenses home. He looked towards 
 home with horror; for his mother was no Mrs. 
 Mitten, and Mr. Markham was a faithful represen 
 tative of his father, and there was the mortifica 
 tion of meeting his many friends and his father s 
 friends as an expelled student. As his troubles 
 increased, so did his indignation against his 
 cousin. "William," said he, "had you followed 
 Mr. Markham s advice, you would have taken 
 the first honor in your class; but instead of that 
 
362 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 you have disgraced yourself, disgraced me, and 
 got five more of your fellow-students expelled. 
 Two of the three ring-leaders in the scrape have 
 escaped, while the rest of us who did nothing more 
 than join in the serenade are dismissed. Had 
 Mr. Markham been inspired, he could not have 
 foreseen our difficulties clearer, or advised us better 
 about them than he did. What benefit has our 
 frolic been to you? How much has it injured 
 Plus? You were justly punished and you know 
 it; and I know it; and suppose you had been 
 unjustly punished, how could such foolery as we 
 went through better your case? Bad luck attends 
 everyone who links himself to you. What am 
 I to do? I ve not money enough to carry me 
 home." 
 
 "I ve got nearly enough to carry us both home, 
 and I can borrow 
 
 "And where did you get it? You won it: and 
 I will not touch a cent of it. I ll tell you what 
 I m going to do; I m going to acknowledge my 
 fault, promise strict observance of the rules of the 
 college for the future, and beg the faculty to restore 
 me " 
 
 " Is there a man in whose veins the Thomson 
 blood runs who can let himself down so low as 
 that?" 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT COLLEGE 363 
 
 "Yes, and I am that man. I have done wrong, 
 and why not confess it? I will confess it to every 
 body else who cannot help me; why not confess 
 it to the faculty who may help me? " 
 
 "Well, if you can truckle to men who have 
 treated your cousin as the faculty has treated me, 
 you can do so; but if you do, I can never feel to 
 you again as a cousin 
 
 "Well, then we shall be even, for I certainly 
 do not feel to you as a cousin " 
 
 "You don t?" 
 
 "No, I don t." 
 
 "Then, good morning, Mr. Thomson. You 
 can shape your course as you please, and I ll do 
 the same. " 
 
 Thomson followed his better judgment; and 
 the faculty, in consideration of his previous good 
 conduct, that he had never been charged with 
 an offence before and that he was nearly related 
 to Mitten, and therefore exposed to the peculiar 
 temptation from him commuted the punishment 
 from expulsion to three weeks suspension. He 
 rejoiced at this good fortune, and thenceforward 
 improved it through life. Two of his companions 
 in guilt tried the same experiment; but as they 
 had nothing to recommend them to clemency, 
 their sentence was unchanged. 
 
364 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 "And there is Nassau Hall justice," said one of 
 them. "Two students in precisely the same 
 predicament, one expelled, and the other sus 
 pended for three weeks! A glorious college this!" 
 
 Mr. Mitten waited on Miss Ward, and informed 
 her of "the injustice that had been done him." 
 
 " It only gives me, dear William, " said she, " an 
 opportunity of proving the sincerity of my attach 
 ment. As the ivy clings to the beauteous column, 
 whether erect, careening, or prostrate, so my 
 heart s affection clings to my William, through 
 all the changes of life. There is a sweet comfort 
 mingled with the bitterness of your misfortune, 
 my idol : it is, that the hour which is to unite our 
 hearts in the golden chain of wedlock will be 
 hastened a full year and a half or more. " 
 
 William looked up to the ceiling, as if he 
 expected to see the gold chain up there; and 
 Amanda took his upturned face as an indication of 
 heavenly aspiration, and wept. 
 
 "I must tear myself from you, Amanda," said 
 William, presenting his hand and lips. She threw 
 her arms around him, then he threw his arm 
 around her. 
 
 They kissed. 
 
 "Another," said Amanda. 
 
 " And yet another. " 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT COLLEGE 365 
 
 And then a long, long, " farewell!" 
 
 She dropped her head on his bosom and 
 wept. William covered his face with his hand 
 kerchief, blew his nose twice, sympathetically, 
 heaved theatrically, and waited a sign that the 
 tragedy was over. But as no sign came, he 
 said: 
 
 " We must part, Amanda. I never shall forget 
 you your all-confiding nature, your tender, 
 warm-hearted love. " 
 
 Here an honest tear filled his eye, conscience 
 stung him, shame reddened his cheeks, and he gave 
 her a strong, remorse-forced embrace, and tore 
 himself from her, in truth. As he left the door, 
 he muttered : 
 
 " Love like that deserves a better return. How 
 sincere, how ardent! How sweet her breath, how 
 fervid her embrace, how eloquent her grief! And 
 yet they made no more impression on me, until I 
 began to utter literal truths and mental lies as a 
 return for her affection, than the dew-drop makes 
 upon the flinty rocks! Heavens and earth! What 
 progress I am making in iniquity! I am already a 
 very devil ! A deceiver of those who love me most 
 my mother Amanda. I must not reckon up 
 my iniquities, or they will addle my brain or drive 
 me to suicide." 
 
3 66 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 He reached his room, paced it a while in anguish, 
 then seated himself and wrote: 
 
 " My dearest Louisa. Ill health drives me from 
 college 
 
 " Another He!" said he, flinging down the pen 
 and rising furiously. " How sin begets sin, " con 
 tinued he, with hurried strides over the room. 
 
 It was long before he could return to his letter ; 
 and when he did, it was only to add : 
 
 " To-morrow I leave for Georgia, whence you 
 will hear from me more fully and more affection 
 ately, on my arrival." 
 
 " There, " said he, " there is my last lie, at least. 
 I ll go home, reform, marry Louisa, and lead a new 
 life." 
 
 He set out for Georgia the next day, and reached 
 home without delay or accident. The Sanford 
 draft had preceded him just two days. His 
 mother paid it promptly, and had just closed a 
 long, tear-bedewed letter to him, when he rushed 
 into the room, and advanced to embrace her. He 
 did embrace her, just in time to save her from 
 falling to the floor, for she had swooned at the 
 first sight of him. Assistance was called, and she 
 was put to bed. She revived, embraced her child 
 and swooned again. The doctors advised him to 
 retire from her bedside, until she recovered 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT COLLEGE 367 
 
 strength to receive him. So long did the second 
 paroxysm continue that even the physicians 
 began to fear that life was extinct. She did 
 revive, however, like one awaking out of a sweet 
 sleep. Casting her eyes around the room, she 
 whispered : 
 
 " Have they taken him away from me already? " 
 
 " He is near at hand, Mrs. Mitten, " said a 
 physician, "and will be introduced again as soon 
 as you become a little more composed." 
 
 "I am perfectly composed now," said she, in 
 the same subdued tone, "let him come in. Do 
 you know what brought him home so soon?" 
 
 " No, Mrs. Mitten, your physicians know better 
 when you will be prepared to receive him than you 
 do, and we hope you will put yourself under our 
 direction." 
 
 " Certainly I will, Doctor. I am a poor, weak 
 woman. I try to do right, but I am always doing 
 wrong. Let it be as soon as you can, Doctor ; but 
 don t yield your judgment to mine, for I have no 
 confidence in my opinions. I followed brother s 
 advice while he lived, and Mr. Markham s after 
 he died, and I don t know what better I could 
 have done. I feel a great deal better now, Doctor; 
 don t you think I am? I think I could see him 
 now calmly; if nothing had brought him home." 
 
3 68 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 One of the physicians withdrew to William s 
 room. 
 
 "William," said he, "for your mother s sake 
 I enquire of you, what brought you home so 
 soon?" 
 
 "I was expelled from college," said William. 
 " I need not try to conceal it, for it must be 
 known." 
 
 "William," continued the doctor, "if you tell 
 your mother that, I m confident she will not 
 survive it an hour. She has been declining in 
 health for several months, and your sudden 
 appearance to her has brought her to the very 
 brink of the grave 
 
 "Then, I suppose, to the long list of my lies I 
 must add another to a dying mother." 
 
 "Why, William, you shock me!" 
 
 "I wish heaven s lightning would shock me, 
 even unto death. What I came into the world for, 
 I don t know, and the sooner I go out of it the 
 better for both the world and myself, I reckon." 
 
 " Compose yourself, William, and if we send for 
 you, approach your mother with as much self- 
 composure as possible- 
 Just here the doctor was sent for in haste. He 
 returned to Mrs. Mitten, and found her sinking, 
 and begging to see her son. He was sent for, and 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT COLLEGE 369 
 
 his approach to her was with marvelous self- 
 command. 
 
 She reached forth her arms to him, and he 
 gently bent himself to their embrace. She held 
 him long to her bosom, a flood of tears came to 
 her relief, and she brightened wonderfully. Re 
 leasing and gazing on him for a moment, she said: 
 
 "My dear boy, you are wonderfully improved 
 in appearance." 
 
 By this time the room was thronged with 
 visitors. The doctors requested them to with 
 draw, in order that Mrs. Mitten might be undis 
 turbed, and if possible, gain sleep. 
 
 "Let William and Mr. Markham remain," said 
 she. 
 
 The rest retired. 
 
 "Mr. Markham," said she, "I am very weak. 
 I do not think the doctors know how extremely 
 ill I am. Be as you have been for a few years 
 past, and as you would have ever been but for 
 my folly, a father to my boy; and, William, 
 regard Mr. Markham as your father, and follow his 
 counsels in all things. Mr. Markham, pray with 
 us. Give thanks for the safe return of my boy, 
 and that I have been permitted to see him once 
 more before I leave the world. What fortune 
 brings him home so suddenly I know not, but it 
 
 24 
 
370 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 is good fortune to me, for without it I am sure I 
 should never have seen him again. Give me 
 your hand and kneel, William. Pray, Mr. Mark- 
 ham." 
 
 As they bowed, William thought of Mr. Mark- 
 ham s parting prayer, and the counsels that 
 preceded it, of his abuses of those counsels, and 
 the bitter consequences; and his bosom heaved 
 with indescribable emotions. His mother gave his 
 hand a quick emphatic pressure at every petition 
 which she would have him notice particularly. 
 These signals of attention became less and less 
 sensible as the prayer progressed, till just before 
 its conclusion they ceased entirely her grasp 
 relaxed, and her hand lay motionless and almost 
 lifeless upon that of her son. Mr. Markham and 
 William rose, turned their eyes to the gentle 
 sufferer, and saw on her countenance every mark 
 of immediate dissolution. They called for the 
 doctors they came, and reached her bed just in 
 time to hear her last words : 
 
 " William meet me in " 
 
 The sentence was never finished. The sweetest f 
 the kindest, the gentlest, the holiest of the 
 village was gone! We will not pretend to de 
 scribe the scenes which followed. Her daugh 
 ters and sons-in-law came but to pour tears upon 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT COLLEGE 37 1 
 
 her mortal remains, as they reposed in the coffin. 
 The elder sister and her husband took charge 
 of the house; the other two remained a few 
 days, then left for their residence. William took 
 his room, and never left it for nearly a month, 
 save to tread pensively the walks of the garden. 
 At the end of a fortnight, he addressed a letter to 
 Miss Green, reporting his mother s death, and 
 telling her that she was the last and strongest 
 tie that bound him to earth, and his only hope of 
 heaven. In due time he received an answer, 
 expressing the tenderest sympathy for him in 
 his bereavement, and concluding as follows*: 
 
 "I have been tormented by strange reports 
 concerning you which I cannot, I will not, believe 
 until they receive some confirmation from your 
 own lips. I will not aggravate your griefs by 
 repeating them now, farther than just to say, 
 that if true, your last brief epistle from Princeton 
 was untrue. 
 
 " With unabated love, 
 
 "YOUR LOUISA." 
 
 Miss Green s letter filled Mitten s bosom with 
 horror. "What a thoughtless fool I was," said 
 he, "to write that useless lie to her! I ought to 
 have known that she would soon learn the true 
 cause of my sudden departure from Princeton! 
 
372 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 Why did I not forestall public report by a frank 
 confession of the truth, and offer such justification 
 of myself as I could? True it is, that when a man 
 turns rogue, he turns fool, and no less true is it, 
 that when a man turns liar he turns fool. It will 
 almost take my life to lose Louisa; but I deserve 
 to lose her, that I may learn what it is to have one s 
 holiest feelings and brightest hopes trifled with. 
 I will write to Louisa, make a frank confession of 
 my errors, vow eternal divorce from them, and 
 promise to be anything and everything that she 
 would have me to be, if she will remain steadfast 
 to her engagement. " He did so, and indeed, made 
 the most of his case that could be made of it. The 
 answer came : 
 
 "MR. WILLIAM MITTEN Sir: Your dismissal 
 from college, and your misrepresentation to me, I 
 could forgive; but I never can forgive your ad 
 dresses to me while you were actually engaged to 
 Miss Amanda Ward. "Your abused 
 
 "LOUISA." 
 
 "All is lost!" exclaimed he, flinging down the 
 letter. "How did she find out the engagement? 
 Amanda herself must have informed her of it." 
 
 This was not true. The engagement carne to 
 Miss Green s ears on this wise: Mitten s attentions 
 to Miss Ward were notorious, and her disrelish for 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT COLLEGE 373 
 
 any society but his was equally notorious. From 
 these facts, the inference was drawn by many that 
 they were engaged. What was stated at first as 
 a matter of inference, soon began to be stated as a 
 matter of fact. As it was contradicted by no one, 
 it came to be regarded as a thing universally ad 
 mitted. So Rumor bore it to Miss Green s ears. 
 The mischievous jade was no less cruel to Miss 
 Ward than she was to Miss Green ; for she reported 
 to her that Mr. Mitten was in regular corres 
 pondence with Miss Green, from his return to 
 Princeton to his departure for Georgia. Amanda 
 drooped under the tidings became sedate and 
 pensive, gave her heart to One who better de 
 served it than her lover, fixed her adoration on 
 the proper Object, moved among the poor and 
 afflicted like an angel of Mercy, lived to be uni 
 versally beloved, kindly rejected many a wooer, 
 and died smiling, where Mary sat weeping. 
 
 The report went abroad that William had 
 broken his mother s heart. This was nearly, but 
 not quite true. Mrs. Mitten s health had begun 
 to decline before William s troubles began, and it 
 is probable that she would not have survived a 
 month longer than she did had William remained 
 at Princeton. But she had become uneasy at the 
 silence of his college companions, concerning him, 
 
374 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 for some months past. The tone of his letters had 
 changed alarmingly. Then his heavy drafts on 
 her for money increased her alarms. Then the 
 Sanders draft added poignant mortification to her 
 distressing fears and anxieties. All these things 
 were wasting her away rapidly, when his abrupt 
 appearance to her filled her with emotions which 
 her feeble frame could not endure. His conduct 
 certainly shortened her days ; but it could not with 
 propriety be said that he broke her heart. Still, 
 so went the report and it gained strength from his 
 remarks to the doctor, which were overheard by a 
 visitor, and went forth with exaggerations. The 
 consequence was, that when he began to mingle 
 with the villagers there was something so cold and 
 distant in their greetings, so formal and cautious 
 in their conversation, that he recoiled from their 
 society, shut himself up in his room, brooded over 
 his misfortunes for a time, became enraged at the 
 treatment of his old friends, and with a heroism 
 worthy of a better cause, he resolved to retaliate 
 upon them. He went forth boldly among them, 
 treated all coldly, and some rudely; made ad 
 vances to no one; stepped loftily and independ 
 ently, and resolved to hold every man personally 
 responsible to him who had taken the liberty of 
 using his name otherwise than with the pro- 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT COLLEGE 375 
 
 foundest respect. The young gentleman had 
 undertaken an Herculean task, but he deemed 
 himself adequate to it, and acted accordingly. 
 He called the doctor to account for circulating 
 remarks made by him "under great excitement 
 and distress, which any man of common humanity 
 would never have thought of repeating." The 
 doctor declared that he never had repeated them. 
 Mr. Mitten told him that " it was not worth while 
 to add the sin of falsehood to the sin of brutality, 
 for no one else could have mentioned them." 
 
 Anderson s remarks also became town talk, as 
 soon as it was known that Mitten had "backed 
 down in the third heat. He went to Anderson 
 in great rage. 
 
 " I understand, sir, " said he, " that you have been 
 making very free with my name in my absence." 
 
 "No, Billy, I only said " 
 
 " Don t call me Billy, sir" 
 
 "Well, General Washington 11 
 
 "Stop, sir! But for your age, I d give you a 
 caning. And now, listen to me, sir: If ever I 
 hear of your mentioning my name in any way, I 
 shall forget the respect due to age, and give you a 
 chastising, let it cost what it may. If you must 
 expend your race-course wit, expend it on some 
 one else, not on me. " 
 
376 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 "When you undertake to chastise me," said 
 Stewy, " you d better appoint your executors: 
 for they ll have to wind up the business." 
 
 Thus Mr. Mitten went on rectifying public 
 opinion and purifying private conversation, until 
 there were but five persons in the village or its 
 vicinity who could venture to be upon terms of 
 intimacy with him. These five, two old men and 
 three young ones, conceived a marvelous attach 
 ment for him. They forced themselves into his 
 affections by a thousand kind sayings of him, and 
 as many harsh ones of all who kept aloof from him. 
 
 " Never mind, Mitten," said one of the ancients; 
 " as soon as you get possession of your property, 
 these very men who are shying off from you now, 
 and whispering all sorts of things about you, will 
 be truckling to you like hound puppies. They 
 hate me worse than they do you, just because I 
 always take up for you. I see how they look at 
 me, every time they see me with you. I despise 
 those old men who forget that they were once 
 young, and make no allowance for a little wildness 
 in young men." 
 
 " Well," said a young one, "I m glad to see Mit 
 ten s independence. He is not beholden to them 
 for anything, and I like to see him going his own 
 way, and taking care of himself." 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT COLLEGE 377 
 
 "Mitten," said a third, "we are going into 
 Thew s back room to amuse ourselves with a game 
 of cards for an hour or so ; where shall I find you 
 when we come out?" 
 
 "Why," said William, "I ll go with you." 
 
 " You d better not, " said two or three voices at 
 once. 
 
 "You might be tempted to play," said Old 
 Fogy, " and when once a young man begins to play 
 cards, he never knows where to stop. Could you 
 do as we do, just sit down and amuse yourself 
 for an hour or two and then get up and quit, why 
 that would be all well enough; but young people 
 are riot like old folks." 
 
 "Well," continued William, "I ll go in and see 
 you play, but I will not play myself, for I have 
 suffered enough from card-playing for one life 
 time, I know." 
 
 "Oh, well, if you ll do that, no harm done." 
 
 William went in, and kept his word. 
 
 The same scene was repeated for a number of 
 days. At length William began to spend his opin 
 ion upon the play of one and another, demon 
 strating by the doctrine of chances that they were 
 injudicious. 
 
 " It is lucky for us, Mitten, that you don t play, 
 or you d soon leave us without a stake. We know 
 
378 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 nothing about book-learning, and just thump 
 away after our old plantation way. Old as I am, 
 I d give the world if I only had your education." 
 
 Day after day rolled away in like manner. 
 
 At length said William, " Let me take a hand, 
 and see if my theory holds good in practice." 
 
 " Oh, no ! " exclaimed half of them. " He ll beat 
 us all to death. What do we know about the 
 doctrine of chances?" 
 
 " Mitten, " said Old Fogy, " don t play. I m an 
 old man, and though I don t know anything about 
 chances, I know that the cards run so sometimes 
 that there is no counting on them. Now, you are 
 a high-minded, honorable young man, and if you 
 should happen to lose largely, you would be 
 strongly tempted to refuse to pay, plead infancy, 
 the gaming act, and all that sort of thing, even 
 when you got able to pay, and I wouldn t lose my 
 good opinion of you for all the money in the 
 country." 
 
 " I hope, Mr. Fogy, you don t think I d do that. " 
 
 " No, I know you d die now before you d do it, 
 but temptations are hard things to get over. I 
 talked just so to young Tickler, as honorable a 
 young fellow as ever was born, and what did he do? 
 Why he won of me day after day, and week after 
 week ; but when the cards took a turn in my favor 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT COLLEGE 379 
 
 he refused to pay the little nasty sum of one thou 
 sand dollars, when he was worth forty thousand. 
 I never asked him for it till he got his property 
 in hand, and then he said that I had tempted him 
 to play and cheated him, and I don t know what 
 all. I wouldn t have lost my good opinion of that 
 young man for double the money." 
 
 "Well," said Mitten, "I am not anxious to 
 play. " And he did not. 
 
 Mitten s company and back-room sittings com 
 ing to the ears of Mr. Markham, he warned William 
 against his associates. He told him that they were 
 a set of sharpers who would certainly ruin him if 
 he did not abandon them. 
 
 "Mr. Markham," said William, "these are the 
 only men of the village, except yourself, who have 
 treated me with any respect and kindness since my 
 return home. You mistake their character. They 
 play cards, it is true, but so far from tempting me 
 to do the same, they advise me not to do it; and 
 consequently I have not thrown a card since my 
 association with them. 1 should be an ingrate 
 and a fool to abandon the only friends who stood 
 by me when all the rest of the world abandoned 
 me." 
 
 Mr. Markham told him their friendships were 
 pretended, their professions unreal, and their 
 
380 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 counsels hypocritical. In short, he used every 
 argument and entreaty that he could to withdraw 
 him from these men, but all was unavailing. 
 
 About this time his college companions re 
 turned, having completed their course. Brown 
 had taken the first honor in his class, and Mark- 
 ham had taken the third. Thomson graduated 
 creditably, but took no honor. 
 
 The day after their arrival Thomson presented 
 Mitten a beautiful box. 
 
 "And who sent this?" asked Mitten. 
 
 "Open it and see," said his cousin. 
 
 He opened it, and saw all the jewelry that he 
 had given to Amanda. On the top of it lay a 
 small note of velvet paper prettily folded. He 
 opened and read: 
 
 " Let them follow the heart of the giver. 
 
 "AMANDA." 
 
 " How did she seem, David, when she handed it 
 to you?" 
 
 " Heart-broken. " 
 
 "Yes, poor girl! Had I remained true to her 
 she would not have forsaken me, as all my colder 
 friends have done. In a little time, now, I could 
 have made her comfortable and happy, and for all 
 time she would have made me happy." 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT COLLEGE 381 
 
 Tears rolled rapidly down his cheeks as he 
 spoke. 
 
 Mr. Markham turned over his school and the 
 profits of it to his son and Brown he only retain 
 ing such a supervision over it as to pass it as his 
 school. The first studied medicine, and the 
 second law while teaching. In a little time 
 Brown fixed up a comfortable little residence for 
 his mother, and furnished it quite neatly. He 
 gave his sisters the benefit of a good Female 
 Academy, and extended their education by his 
 own private instruction. David Thomson be 
 came the head of his father s family, and trod 
 in the footsteps of his father through life. William 
 continued his unlucky association. 
 
 One day, while he was looking on at the game of 
 his friends: 
 
 "Here, Mitten," said one of the seniors, "play 
 my hand for me," rising and going out. 
 
 On his return, another addressed him, saying: 
 
 " Look here, old man, take your seat there and 
 play your own hand; we can t play with Mitten." 
 
 Mitten had won ten dollars while representing 
 his old friend. 
 
 " Lord, " said another, " what a benefit an educa 
 tion is in everything!" 
 
 William now proposed to take a hand for himself. 
 
3 8 2 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 "Well," one said, "we needn t object on his 
 account if we don t object on our own, for there is 
 no danger of his losing. " 
 
 William played, and won a little. So did he for 
 five or six sittings. Then his winnings and losings 
 began to balance each other pretty equally. Then 
 he began to lose regularly, but in small amounts 
 then in larger amounts. 
 
 About this time Mr. Mitten made divers re 
 markable discoveries, to wit : That whenever he 
 lost, one of the old ones and one of the young 
 ones lost, but they won in regular succession, so 
 that, at the end of a week s play, he owed (for 
 they "played on tick,") each of them almost ex 
 actly the same amount. That though they often 
 played against all the doctrines of chance, they 
 were very sure to win. That the young one would 
 frequently relieve himself from the fatigues of the 
 game by playing the fiddle and walking round 
 the table, and that so long as he played the fiddle, 
 he (Mitten) was certain to lose. That the other 
 two young ones lost and won occasionally, but in 
 the long run were like himself, losers, and that 
 their losses like his own were the equal gain of the 
 other three. 
 
 Now prudence dictated that he should quit this 
 clique, but he was largely over a thousand dol- 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT COLLEGE 383 
 
 lars in debt to the trio, and he could not gain his 
 consent to do so until he recovered his losses. At 
 a convenient session he took his fellow-sufferers 
 aside, informed them of his discoveries, and pro 
 posed to them that they should play in co-partner 
 ship against the other three "only till they got 
 back their money. " They readily assented to his 
 proposition, and William indoctrinated them in a 
 set of signs, offensive and defensive, that in a 
 better cause would have immortalized him. He 
 cautioned them to wait the signal from him before 
 they put any of their plans of attack in operation, 
 and in the meantime, to act wholly on the de 
 fensive. 
 
 The parties met, and Old Fogy entertained the 
 company with an account of his early adventures 
 at the card table, in which was this passage : "I 
 lost, and lost, and lost. Dollar after dollar went, 
 and negro after negro. I bore it all like a man 
 until I had to sell my favorite servant, Simon. 
 This was tough, but I had to sacrifice him or my 
 honor, so I let him go." 
 
 The club took their seats. Two hours rolled 
 away, and the seniors gained nothing from the 
 juniors. The fiddler got fatigued and took his 
 fiddle. The juniors, as if by accident, hid their 
 hands every time he walked behind them. He 
 
STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 soon got rested, and resumed his seat. At twelve 
 o clock at night, the juniors being a little winners, 
 Mitten got too sleepy to set any longer, and the 
 game closed. Five sittings ended nearly in the 
 same way to the utter amazement of the seniors. 
 
 "The young rascals have found out our signs," 
 said Old Fogy, "we must make new ones." 
 
 They did so. Mitten discovered it in about 
 three deals. 
 
 "This is a piddling sort o business," said 
 Fogy; "let s play higher." 
 
 William had not only concerted his signs in a 
 masterly manner, but he had a way of communi 
 cating to his partners the most important signs 
 of their adversaries as soon as he discovered them. 
 While he was making his discoveries his party 
 lost a little. 
 
 " I don t like to raise the stakes when I m losing," 
 said William, "but luck must turn soon, and that 
 will be the quickest way of getting back my 
 losings, and I believe I m willing to play a little 
 higher." 
 
 Old Fogy put up the stakes very high, and 
 William gave the signal for attack with all his 
 armory. In less than an hour, the corn (repre 
 senting money) was streaming from the Fogy 
 party in a perfect sluice. Mitten lost to his part- 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT COLLEGE 385 
 
 ners two hundred dollars, and the Fogies lost to 
 them from five hundred to a thousand each. 
 At one o clock, A. M., Mitten rose from the table 
 saying: "That his brain was so addled he 
 couldn t play; and that if he could, such a run of 
 luck would ruin the best player in the world." 
 
 It would be both interesting and instructive to 
 the young, to trace Mitten s progress step by step 
 in gaming, until he became a most accomplished 
 blackleg; but our limits will not allow us to do so. 
 He was in rapid progress to this distinction when 
 Miss Flora Summers, j daughter of Colonel Mark 
 Summers, who resided five miles from the village, 
 returned home from kalem, N. C. She was an 
 only child, handsome; agreeable in manners, of 
 good sense and well improved mind. William 
 visited her, and so did John Brown, now admitted 
 to the bar and practising with brilliant promise. 
 The Colonel received Brown with great cordiality, 
 and William with distant civility. Flora re 
 versed things exactly. The Colonel was not sur 
 prised at her preference, but before it had time to 
 ripen into love, he thus addressed her: "My 
 daughter, it may be that Mitten and Brown will 
 become suitors of yours. I do not say to you, in 
 that event, marry Brown ; but I do say to you, do 
 not marry Mitten, if you would save yourself and 
 
 25 
 
3 86 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 me from misery intolerable. You know his 
 history in part. If he did not break his mother s 
 heart, he hastened her death. He has rendered 
 himself odious to all good men, and become the 
 associate of gamblers. And yet he is a young 
 man of handsome person, fine address and fine 
 talents. These endowments are apt to win upon a 
 girl s heart; but surely my daughter can fortify 
 her heart against dangerous impressions from such 
 a man as Mitten." 
 
 "Yes, pa," said Flora, "I can and I will. I 
 assure you that I will never give my hand to 
 William." 
 
 "Then, without feigning an attachment that 
 you do not feel, give him the earliest opportunity 
 of declaring himself, and let your refusal be re 
 spectful but decisive." 
 
 " I will. It will cost me no difficulty to refuse 
 Mitten; but I don t think I ever can love John 
 Brown. Dear me, pa, he is so ugly!" 
 
 " Well, my child, be that as you would have it. 
 I certainly shall not urge you to have Brown or 
 anybody else. Your choice will be mine, provided 
 your choice does not light upon one of despicable 
 character. " 
 
 Mitten repeated his visits, and was received more 
 warmly by the Colonel than at first. In process of 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT COLLEGE 387 
 
 time he declared himself and was positively re 
 jected. Brown continued his visits too, but at 
 much longer intervals. His fame in the meantime 
 was constantly growing. His manners were not 
 wanting in polish, and in intellectual endowment 
 he now far outstripped Mitten. His visits for 
 five or six months seemed only of a friendly 
 character. He read well and talked well, and was 
 both a wit and humorist; but he never wounded 
 by his sallies. Flora soon became satisfied that 
 John had no idea of courting her, and she threw 
 off all shyness and became on terms of easy and 
 agreeable familiarity with him. John spoke 
 freely and playfully of his own homeliness; told 
 amusing anecdotes about it, and spoke of it in such 
 ways as made Flora laugh heartily. A single 
 example: After they had become as intimate as 
 brother and sister, there was a pause in the con 
 versation one day, and John, after a deep sigh, 
 said: 
 
 " Well, I d give a thousand dollars just to know 
 for one hour how an ugly man feels." 
 
 Flora laughed immoderately. 
 
 "Well, John," said she, "I think you might 
 for a dollar know how such an one feels for a life 
 time." 
 
 Then John roared. Thus matters went on 
 
3 88 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 until Flora began to feel that John s society was a 
 very important item in her life of single blessed 
 ness. She met him with smiles and parted with 
 him, not exactly in sadness, but with an expres 
 sion of countenance and "good-bye," which 
 seemed to say, "John, it s hard to part with you, 
 you pleasant, ugly dog." 
 
 Still John never whispered love, while every 
 body spoke his praises. 
 
 About this time Colonel Summers got into a 
 lawsuit, that alarmed him greatly. He employed 
 Brown, who disposed of it, on demurrer, at the 
 first term of the court. At his next visit to Flora, 
 she expressed her gratitude to him very tenderly, 
 and added, "John, I hope some day or other we 
 will be able to repay the obligation that we are 
 under to you." 
 
 "Why, Miss Flora," said John, "it s the easiest 
 thing in the world for you to cancel the obligation 
 and make me the willing servant of you both/ 
 
 "How, John?" 
 
 " Why just let your father give his daughter to 
 me, and you ratify the gift. " 
 
 Flora looked at him and blushed, and smiled, 
 looked serious, and said: 
 
 "Are you in earnest, John?" 
 
 " In just as sober earnest as if I were preaching." 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT COLLEGE 389 
 
 "John, I don t believe you love me." 
 
 " Yes, I do, Miss Flora, as ardently as ever man 
 loved woman, but until recently I believed my 
 love was hopeless, and therefore I concealed it, 
 or tried to conceal it, for I know you often saw it. " 
 
 " Why, John, you astonish me ! Go, ask pa, 
 and if he gives me to you, I ll ratify the gift. I 
 might get a handsomer man, but I never could get 
 a more worthy one." 
 
 4 As to my beauty," said John, "why that s 
 neither here nor there. One thing is certain 
 about it, and that is, that it will never fade. " 
 
 "Well, John, if we live ten years longer, I am 
 sure I shall think you handsome; for your fea 
 tures have been growing more and more agreeable 
 to me, ever since you began to visit me." 
 
 " Well, Miss Flora, if they are agreeable to you 
 tolerable to you, it is a matter of perfect indiffer 
 ence to me what any one else thinks of them. 
 Another great advantage you will have in marry 
 ing a homely man, and that is, you will not be 
 exposed to the common torments of the wives of 
 handsome men." 
 
 "I m not so sure of that, John. Splendid 
 talents, renown and fascinating manners are much 
 more apt to win the admiration of our sex than a 
 pretty face." 
 
390 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 " If you see all these things in me, Flora, you see 
 more than I have ever seen. As you are getting in 
 a complimentary strain, I ll thank you to ask your 
 father in; for though I bear compliments with 
 great fortitude, they always embarrass me, and 
 when coming from you, they give me a peculiar 
 drawing to the lips that utter them." 
 
 " Well, how do you know but they would bear 
 the drawing with great fortitude, too?" So say 
 ing, she bounced to her room and left him alone, 
 saying as she flitted away, "I ll send my father 
 to you and listen how you draw to each other. " 
 
 The Colonel soon made his appearance. 
 
 John looked at the Colonel, put his right leg 
 over his left, took it down again and patted his 
 foot. The Colonel took a chew of tobacco, cleared 
 his throat too, coughed twice, blew his nose and 
 looked at the carpet. "John," said the Colonel, 
 "Flora said you wished to see me." 
 
 "Yes, sir, " said John, " I have long had a warm 
 attachment to your daughter and I thought if I 
 could gain your assent to address her " 
 
 "To address her! Why, she says you are en 
 gaged, and only want my consent to get married. 
 If that is the case, you have my consent freely. 
 There is not a man in the world that I would prefer 
 to you for my daughter." So saying, he retired. 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT COLLEGE 391 
 
 Flora immediately re-entered, laughing immod 
 erately. "Well, John," said she, "I don t think 
 you had much of a drawing to pa. " 
 
 Confound this asking for daughters!" said 
 John. "I d rather ask forty girls to marry me 
 than one father for his daughter. I never acted 
 like such a fool in all my life ! " 
 
 Three weeks from this date, John Brown and 
 Flora Summers became one, and remained one in 
 the best sense of the term, through life. Indeed 
 Flora s opinion of John s looks underwent a great 
 change. 
 
 Mitten surrendered himself to cards; distin 
 guished himself among gamblers for his shrewd 
 ness, and actually made money by his calling, 
 until he was arrested in his career by that disease 
 so common to gamblers, and so fatal to all con 
 sumption. When he found the disease fastened 
 incurably upon him, he took to his room, his 
 mother s bedroom. The old family Bible was there. 
 She had often said, that at her death she wished it to 
 go to William, and there it was left for him. He 
 opened it, found in it many traces of his mother s 
 pen, scraps of paper with texts of scripture, holy 
 resolutions, prayers, Christian consolation, and 
 the like, written on them. He closed the book, 
 pressed it to his bosom, and wept bitterly. 
 
392 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 Dearest, best of women !" soliloquized he. 
 "What a curse have I been to thee! What a 
 curse have I been to myself! One fault thou 
 hadst, and only one . No, I must not call it 
 a fault one weakness, shall I call it? No, that is 
 too harsh a term for it. One heavenly virtue in 
 excess thou hadst too much tenderness for thy : . 
 son. But why do I advert to this? When I" 
 reached the age of reflection and self-government *. 
 this very thing should have endeared thee the^ 
 more to me should have made me more resolute 
 in reforming the errors which thy excessive kind-- 
 ness produced. But, oh, how impotent are human 
 resolutions against vices which have become 
 constitutional! Tom, go for Mr. Markham. " 
 
 Mr. Markham came, and found William with his 
 head on his mother s Bible, bedewing it with tears. 
 He raised his head, reached his hot hand to hia 
 friend, and after some struggles for utterance, said; 
 
 " Mr. Markham, you have known me from my 
 childhood to the present moment, you have 
 marked my every step in the pathway of ruin 
 you have seen me abuse and torture the best of 
 mothers, reject the counsels of the best of uncles, 
 and the best of friends, multiplying sins to cover 
 sins, insulting men for disapproving of what my 
 own conscience disapproved, avoiding the good, 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT COLLEGE 393 
 
 consorting with the depraved, prostituting heav 
 en s best gifts to earth s worst purposes in short, 
 assimilating myself to the devil, as far as it was 
 possible for me to do so; now tell me, my dear 
 friend, do you think it possible for such an aban 
 doned wretch as I am to find mercy in heaven? 
 In making up your answer, remember that I never 
 thought of asking mercy, and probably never 
 should have thought of it, had I not seen Death 
 approaching me with sure, unerring step." 
 
 "Oh, yes," said Mr. Markham, "you are not 
 beyond the reach of mercy; provided you seek it 
 in the way of God s appointment. " 
 
 "Be pleased to instruct me in that way; for I 
 am lamentably deficient in knowledge of the 
 Bible." 
 
 * Well, in the first place, you cannot expect 
 mercy unless you ask for it. If you ask for it you 
 cannot expect to have your request granted unless 
 you perform the conditions upon which such re 
 quest is to be granted. Now these conditions are 
 (the essential ones) that you show mercy to every 
 human being that has offended you " 
 
 "That is but reasonable." 
 
 " You must freely, and from your heart, forgive 
 every one who has trespassed against you. You 
 remember your infantile prayer?" 
 
394 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 " Yes, but I never understood it, until this mo 
 ment. " 
 
 "You must seek to be reconciled to every one 
 who has aught against you." 
 
 "The hardest condition of all. I can forgive 
 those who have injured me; but how shall I ask 
 peace of those whom I never wronged?" 
 
 "God never wronged you, did He? And yet 
 He asks you to be reconciled to Him. 
 
 "Wonderful!" ejaculated William, thought 
 fully. 
 
 "You would not come to me, William, and ask 
 a favor of me, and at the same time say, I ask it, 
 but I do not believe you will grant it, would you? 
 said Mr. Markham. 
 
 " No, that would be to insult you to your face. " 
 
 " Neither must you ask favors of God, believing 
 that He will not grant them. You must ask, 
 believing in His goodness, His word, and His 
 promises, i. e., you must ask in faith. 1 
 
 "Perfectly just!" 
 
 " If you were to ask a favor of me, and I should 
 say come again, I cannot grant it just now ; would 
 you turn away from me in despair, and never ask 
 me again?" 
 
 "Surely not." 
 
 " Then do not show less confidence in God than 
 
WILLIAM MITTEN AT COLLEGE 395 
 
 you have in me. If He does not answer your 
 prayers as soon as you expect, pray on and bide 
 His time." 
 
 " Well, God helping me, I will follow your coun 
 sels this time, to the day of my death. Pray once 
 for me, thou heaven-born and heaven-directed 
 man!" 
 
 Mr. Markham prayed with him as if his "lips 
 were touched with a live coal from off the altar. " 
 
 William now gave himself to prayer and reading 
 the Scriptures. He sent for all within his reach 
 whom he had offended, or who had offended him; 
 freely forgave, and was freely forgiven. Two, 
 three and four months the disease spared him; 
 but he found peace; rejoiced for a month more, 
 preached powerfully to all who came to his bed 
 side, and with his last breath cried, "Mother, 
 receive thy son!" and died. 
 
 Thus was the career of William Mitten ended 
 ended ere he had reached an age at which life is 
 hardly begun. He was indeed a youth of brilliant 
 talents, rendering it probable, had they been prop 
 erly cultivated, for his attaining much promi 
 nence in his section of the State ; but he ignored 
 good advice, and gave heed to only the evil in 
 fluences that surrounded him. 
 
 May it not be hoped that the prayer which 
 
39 6 STORIES WITH A MORAL 
 
 issued from his lips as he was about to breathe his 
 last found an answering echo on the other shore, 
 and that the loving spirit of his mother was able 
 to meet that of her son in Paradise? 
 
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 University of California / 
 
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 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
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