A MAN STORY 
 
LIBRARY OF 
 
 H. J. M06LE 
 
 No 
 
 
A MAN STORY 
 
A MAN STORY 
 
 BY 
 
 E. W. HOWE 
 
 AUTHOR OF "THE STORY OF A COUNTRY TOWN," "THE MYSTERY OF THE 
 LOCKS," "A MOONLIGHT BOY," ETC. 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 TICKNOR AND COMPANY 
 
 211 Fremont Street 
 
 1889 
 
Copyright, iSSS 
 BY TICKNOR AND COMPANY 
 
 All rights reserve^ I . .* 
 
 PRESS OF 
 ROCKWELL AND CHURCHILL 
 
 BOSTON, U.S.A. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 OIIAITKK PAGE 
 
 I. How THE STORY CAME TO BE WRITTEN ... 7 
 
 II. THE BENDS 14 
 
 III. MRS. TOM 28 
 
 IV. THE BOOMER 37 
 
 V. WAS HE IN LOVE? 49 
 
 VI. ONE OF OUR NEIGHBORS 66 
 
 VII. MORE OF THE LOVE STORY 81 
 
 VIII. JOE TACK 93 
 
 IX. THE STRANGE STORY OF MR. CANBY AND MR. 
 
 OTHER 107 
 
 X. UNCLE TOM WRITES A LETTER 123 
 
 XI. NUMBER ONE ASSERTS HIMSELF 133 
 
 XII. I AM SURPRISED 147 
 
 XIII. MRS. BARNABY 156 
 
 XIV. OLD BARNABY 171 
 
 XV. A LETTER FROM MRS. TOM 184 
 
 XVI. A MAN S GRIEVANCE . 193 
 
 M22162 
 
6 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XVII. THE BROOPER WOODS 209 
 
 XVIII. AN IDOL LEAVES THE SANCTUARY .... 224 
 
 XIX. THE RETURN TO FOG LAKE 239 
 
 XX. A MESSAGE AND A MYSTERY 254 
 
 XXI. I GET AN IDEA 271 
 
 XXII. THE TOWN IN THE WEST . 280 
 
 XXIII. MR. HICKEY 296 
 
 XXIV. A MAN S STORY .310 
 
 XXV. A BAD NIGHT 337 
 
 XXVI. AN ANTE-MORTEM STATEMENT 348 
 
 XXVII. THE BREAK OP DAY 35G 
 
 XXVIII. How IT CAME ABOUT .364 
 
 XXIX. A RIVAL 371 
 
 XXX. Two LETTERS 375 
 
A MAN STORY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. ; , : ->; ,:V 
 
 HOW THE STORY CAME TO BE WRITTEN. 
 
 AT the time when all the incidents were 
 fresh in the minds of those concerned, it was 
 generally said that they would make a story. 
 This impression was particularly marked after 
 the events immediately following the closing 
 chapters, and there was seldom a day that the 
 matter of a story was not mentioned; it was 
 even said that I should attempt it, as I had 
 regained a certain amount of respect among 
 them by reason of the incidents narrated, and 
 although they soon ceased talking about it en 
 tirely, I continued to think of the suggestion 
 of a story, which had at first impressed me 
 favorably, and finally set to work, though with 
 many misgivings. 
 
8 A MAN STORY. 
 
 It seems easy to write a story. After read 
 ing a book, particularly a good one, the writ 
 ing of it seems to have been an easy matter. 
 I think I was induced to attempt to tell this 
 story of a man from reading certain books 
 which, were written so easily that little work 
 was apparently connected with them, but I 
 now feel, after an actual experience with the 
 task, that no one will be encouraged to write 
 a book by what I have written ; I am so cer 
 tain that the style is stiff, and the characters 
 awkwardly introduced, though I might have 
 done better had I not felt it my duty to 
 narrate the facts almost as they happened, for 
 there is a wide license in fiction which I have 
 not been permitted to employ. 
 
 But when I think of it, the writing of fic 
 tion is no doubt difficult. There are a thousand 
 expressions that may be put in the mouth of 
 every character; the effort to select the best 
 ones from the mass of material offering, is no 
 doubt a tiresome work. There is not a line 
 in any book except a book like this, where 
 
HO W IT CAME TO BE WRITTEN. 9 
 
 the facts are ready at hand that might not 
 be written in almost numberless ways, and the 
 worry of the authors, in trying to do as well 
 as possible, will distress me in future when 
 ever I see a printed page ; I have worried so 
 much over my own work, although I had 
 only my memory to look to. A character that 
 might strike the popular fancy may be cur 
 tailed, in the author s anxiety, and a bad one 
 enlarged upon. Every description in a book 
 might be written in a thousand ways; the 
 conversation of the characters might be length 
 ened or shortened to their improvement. I 
 imagine that there is scarcely a sentence, in 
 short, that does not walk through the sleeping 
 and waking hours of the poor authors, asking 
 for aid, and their distress has affected me so 
 much that I shall not attempt it again; there 
 are rewards in business not to be had in book- 
 writing, and they do not cost so much. I 
 have a dread and guilty feeling when looking 
 at the desk at which this story was written 
 that I never experienced on looking at the 
 
10 A MAN STORY. 
 
 counter behind which I usually spend my time, 
 and I think this must have been a warning. 
 I shall so accept it, at all events. There was 
 a time when I had the greatest hope for my 
 self, but when I was convinced of my error, 
 the particulars will be found in the eleventh 
 chapter, I think, the shock of truth was so 
 great that I doubt that I shall ever recover 
 from it. 
 
 Even in writing this poor book, I have 
 dreamed at night only of poring over its 
 pages, trying to enlarge here and cut out 
 there, to the end that the cruel things usually 
 said of books might be avoided ; indeed, while 
 about the writing I became so frowsy and 
 wretched looking, that many of my friends im 
 agined that I was dissipating at night, and 
 spending in high revel the hours I really de 
 voted to attempts to soften the hard places. 
 I have also heard it intimated that I am of 
 a melancholy turn, and that I spend my idle 
 time in moping about; I have really been em 
 ployed in trying to fairly represent the man 
 
HOW IT CAME TO BE WRITTEN. 11 
 
 whose story I have written, but I feel certain 
 that I shall hear soon that my time would 
 have been better employed in my old listless 
 way. 
 
 The amateur who attempts a part in a play 
 and who has not attempted a part in the 
 great representation of life, and failed ? usu 
 ally has the satisfaction of knowing that the 
 house was not crowded, and that the exact 
 particulars of his disgrace will in time be for 
 gotten in the failure of others, since his actions 
 and his words must be matters of memory 
 with his critics; but the amateur who attempts 
 a book does not get off so well. He never 
 lights his lamp at night that he does not think 
 of some one looking over his book and read 
 ing passages aloud to laugh at them. If his 
 is a sensitive soul, and it is said such long 
 to put themselves in books, it must often 
 occur to him that the evidences of his folly 
 can never be lost. A play-bill may be de 
 stroyed, and with it the name of the bad actor, 
 but no one destroys a book; even the worst 
 
12 A MAN STORY. 
 
 books are kept, and I have of late noticed a 
 tendency among the people to enjoy very bad 
 stories, because of their absurdities, in prefer 
 ence to reading authors who are neither very 
 good nor very bad, but who are only tiresome. 
 The last book that created a sensation in our 
 community had no other recommendation than 
 its absurdity, and I heard a bright man say 
 not long ago that the age was so noted for 
 bad books that he had a mind to write one 
 in mockery, and make it so absurd that the 
 sales would be enormous. The author of the 
 worst book ever written believed in it; no one 
 believed in the great men when they were 
 boys, and the boys of whom a great deal was 
 expected proved a disappointment. Who can 
 tell? 
 
 My greatest fear is that it will be said that 
 the man whose story it is was allowed too 
 much space, and that his talking for pages at 
 a time without interruption, was a rude vio 
 lation of the proprieties. In order to prepare 
 the reader for this for with my lack of 
 
HO W IT CAME TO BE WRITTEN. 13 
 
 art I could not very well avoid it I have 
 given the book a title which will indicate that 
 a man has a good deal to do with it. Had I 
 been free to select, as fiction-writers are, I 
 think I should have made A Woman Story, 
 for it seems to me now that there is little that is 
 interesting in the life of a man; but the time 
 has come when I can no longer delay ; I must 
 either burn the manuscript or print it, and 
 since we hope in spite of our fear, with trem 
 bling and misgiving I submit the story. 
 
 C. B. 
 
14 A MAN STORY. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE BENDS. 
 
 WHAT is the first thing you can remember? 
 I imagine that every one has asked himself, or 
 herself, the question, and that they have de 
 cided upon an incident with which their recol 
 lection began. 
 
 The first thing I can remember is of my 
 mother crying, late one afternoon, because of 
 a fear she had just expressed that my head 
 was so unusually large that I would certainly 
 die of brain fever, and that she would con 
 sequently never have the honor of rearing the 
 smartest baby ever born ; but as many other 
 mothers have had the same foolish fear of sons 
 who grew up into dull manhood, my recollec 
 tion need go no farther back than is neces 
 sary for the purpose of this story, to a certain 
 date when I was twelve years old, and when 
 
THE BENDS. 15 
 
 I began to realize that our family was afflicted 
 with the Bends. 
 
 My father, who was a boomer, with town-lots 
 and bonds for sale, kept a store at Fog Lake, 
 and we lived in rooms over his place of busi 
 ness, in connection with my two grandfathers 
 and my Aunt Florence. The boomer was away 
 from home on the afternoon of the day when 
 I became twelve years old, having gone to a 
 neighboring town to secure a bucket factory, 
 which he had heard was contemplated, and 
 when my mother came into the room where 
 I sat, and cried out in a despairing tone, 
 " The Bends ! " I thought she referred to a 
 band of robbers who were sacking the town, 
 or something of that kind; so I went down 
 into the store to see what it all meant. 
 
 I found the young man who acted as the 
 Boomer s clerk in a good deal of excitement, 
 because of the boisterous conduct of my pa 
 ternal grandfather, who had locked himself in 
 his room in the top story of the house, and 
 was carrying on in such a manner that a 
 
16 A MAN STORY. 
 
 crowd of people had collected in front of the 
 building. He had taken liquor up there, and 
 gone on a bender; ancl when my mother came 
 into the store wringing her hands, and saying 
 that her family was disgraced with " the 
 Bends," and that her boy could never take 
 the place in the world his smartness war 
 ranted, because of this calamity, I imagined 
 there had been so many benders within her 
 recollection that she referred to them in a gen 
 eral way as "The Bends," which I afterwards 
 found to be the case. 
 
 My mother s father, as handsome an old 
 gentleman as one could wish to see, also lived 
 at our house, but he did not like my other 
 grandfather, and was therefore not disturbed 
 because of his actions. These two hated each 
 other, and I heard the clerk say to a man 
 who came in to offer his assistance in the 
 family s distress that there would have been 
 no benders had there been no quarrel between 
 the old gentlemen. When I was a very little 
 boy, I had somehow formed the habit of call- 
 
THE BENDS. 17 
 
 ing them Number One and Number Two, 
 which had been followed by all the others, 
 and it appeared that when Number Two could 
 no longer stand the silent impudence of Num 
 ber One, he went on a bender to relieve 
 himself. 
 
 Number Two was as rich as Number One, 
 for both of them were as poor as they could 
 be, but he did not look so well or dress so 
 well. When he had a new suit of clothes out 
 of the store, he soon had it looking wretch 
 edly, and I suppose this was one reason why 
 he usually attended to the stable, and did 
 such other work, while Number One did not 
 do anything to speak of, except to sit in the 
 best room and read books. 
 
 I had heard it said that he could cure can 
 cers, and that he knew more than many doc 
 tors ; but there were no cancers in that country, 
 so we had no other authority for his great 
 ness than the word of his daughter, my 
 mother, who admired him immensely, and never 
 tired of relating what a distinguished man he 
 
18 A MAN STORY. 
 
 had been in his prime; but Number Two 
 doubted all this, in which I think he was aided 
 and abetted by his son, the Boomer. 
 
 I did not like Number One very well my 
 self, he was so chilly and respectable; and the 
 first shock of my life was when I remembered 
 that the one who regarded me with the great 
 est admiration, my mother, was so badly 
 mistaken about her father. He was also 
 responsible for the story, which I heard so 
 often that I disliked it, that I cried so much 
 as a baby that he had made up his mind to 
 ask me, in case I ever grew up, what I was 
 crying about. 
 
 Number One also had his bed in the best 
 room, which he folded out of the way during 
 the day, and he was known to look displeased 
 when there was company which interfered with 
 his genteel solitude to an extent that he did 
 not like. 
 
 It was understood that my father could man 
 age the Bends, but as he was away, certain 
 men in the town who were supposed to have 
 
THE BENDS. 19 
 
 influence with him were sent to Number Two s 
 door; but he paid no attention to them, and 
 went on with his carouse. I had perhaps 
 been familiar with his habits of dissipation 
 before, but it seems to me now that they had 
 escaped me up to this time, for the bender 
 seemed so curious to me that when none of 
 them could do anything with Number Two, 
 and had given him up in despair, I finally 
 went up the little stairway leading to his door, 
 and listened. 
 
 I could make out in a confused sort of way 
 that Number Two was having a reunion, and 
 although he was certainly alone, he pretended 
 to be surrounded by his old army comrades, 
 with whom he drank frequently, for I could 
 hear the glasses rattling, and Number Two in 
 sisting that they fill them up again in memory 
 of old times. 
 
 Between his drinks he would relate anec 
 dotes, usually commencing by saying, "Your 
 story, comrade, reminds me of an incident in 
 my own experience ; " and when I looked 
 
20 A MAN STORY. 
 
 through the keyhole, I saw that he had his 
 old uniform on, which included a little cap, 
 with a brass letter and number in front. I 
 could also see that he was seated at his wash- 
 stand, in the centre of which stood a bottle 
 surrounded by several tumblers and mugs, and 
 against which leaned a musket. Number Two 
 had been a private, and was honest enough to 
 admit it; but there was a certain Captain 
 Waterbury who attended the reunions, and I 
 have heard him refer to the captain quite 
 familiarly, usually in connection with urging 
 him to take one more. 
 
 He frequently referred to a certain Devil 
 who had not been in the war at all, and whom 
 it was desirable to exterminate, and I felt 
 certain that the Devil he referred to was Num 
 ber One, his enemy. I could hear him telling 
 his comrades, who were represented by the 
 mugs and glasses, that while it was certain 
 that the Devil had not carried arms on the 
 right side, it WPS not certain that he had net 
 consorted in a cowardly way with the enemy; 
 
THE BENDS. 21 
 
 indeed, Number Two went so far as to propose 
 a set of resolutions for adoption, denouncing 
 all Rebels and Copperheads, and calling for their 
 blood; but before the final vote I became so 
 frightened that I went downstairs with a view 
 of warning Number One of his danger, though 
 I thought less of him than I did of Number 
 Two. But when I went into the room where 
 he was, Number One seemed so conscious of 
 his own safety that I said nothing at all, and 
 felt rather ashamed that I should have imag 
 ined that so distinguished a man was in danger. 
 Although my mother was very much agitated 
 over the events of the evening, and was saying 
 between her sobs that our family could never 
 amount to anything so long as it was cursed 
 with " The Bends," and that while she had 
 the smartest son in the world, he could not do 
 well when the people in the street could see 
 that he came from a family afflicted as ours 
 was, her father was as dignified as ever, and 
 whatever his thoughts might have been, he 
 said nothing. 
 
22 A MAN STORY. 
 
 Though I did not like him, I could not help 
 admitting that he was distinguished-looking, for 
 his heavy hair and whiskers, which were of a 
 respectable iron-gray, made him look like the 
 great men I had seen pictures of, and there 
 was a" general dignity about him which I often 
 regretted that Number Two did not possess. 
 Number Two was very bald, and somewhat 
 slouchy in his gait and manner, and there was 
 something sneaking in his style, which came, 
 I think, from his chewing great quantities of 
 plug tobacco, in spite of the fact that my 
 mother and her father, eminently respectable 
 people, did not approve of the habit. Number 
 Two pretended that it was neither disgraceful 
 nor criminal to chew plug tobacco, but, in 
 spite of it, I noticed that he did his chewing 
 down at the stable, and that when he came 
 into the house he carefully wiped his mouth. 
 
 When I went upstairs again, which I did 
 on being convinced that Number One was in 
 no danger, I found that the excitement was 
 increasing. There was loud talk of all those 
 
THE BENDS. 23 
 
 present loading their muskets, and making one 
 more charge on the Rebels, and Copperheads, 
 and Devils, but just at the moment when mat 
 ters seemed serious, and Number Two was 
 declaring that he would lead the way, and 
 point out the Rebel, the Copperhead, and the 
 Devil, there was a strong step on the stair, 
 and I turned and saw my Uncle Tom ascend 
 ing ; Uncle Tom, the husband of my Aunt 
 Florence, who travelled from the City, a long 
 way off, and only came home at long intervals ; 
 but he had arrived unexpectedly, it seemed, 
 and was coming up to join in the reunion, hav 
 ing been a soldier himself. My uncle had great 
 influence with Number Two, and, after nodding 
 pleasantly to me, he rapped loudly on the door. 
 
 " Comrade," he said, addressing my grand 
 father upon the inside, "I am a little late, 
 but I hope you will be glad to see me." 
 
 There was some talk upon the inside, as 
 though the veterans were impatient because of 
 being disturbed, even by a favorite, and finally 
 my grandfather hoarsely inquired: 
 
24 A MAN STORY. 
 
 "Who goes there?" 
 
 " Torn Saulsbury, of the Sixty-fourth Regi 
 ment; a friend." 
 
 I do not think Number Two wanted to be 
 interrupted, and would have preferred not .to 
 have admitted any one, but there was a hearty 
 goodness about my uncle that no one could 
 resist, and the door was opened after some 
 hesitation, Number Two appearing behind it, 
 looking somewhat sheepish and red-eyed from 
 the effects of his dissipation. 
 
 As Uncle Tom stepped into the room, at 
 the same time heartily greeting Number Two 
 as his comrade in war and his friend in peace, 
 he took me with him, and I believe he did 
 this not so much to accommodate me as to 
 increase his influence over my grandfather, 
 who, my uncle seemed to argue, would be 
 more tractable in the presence of a boy than 
 when only grown persons were present; so I 
 was allowed to remain, although the door was 
 locked behind us. 
 
 The room into which we went was a half- 
 
THE BENDS. 25 
 
 story one next to the roof at the front of the 
 building, and was bare of furniture save a 
 rough bed covered with gray blankets, a wash- 
 stand, and two or three knapsacks. Instead 
 of keeping his things in a trunk, Number Two 
 kept them in knapsacks, which he carefully 
 unpacked and repacked whenever he wanted 
 anything, and as he brought up his water in 
 canteens, he could have marched at a moment s 
 notice had Number One made a retreat nec 
 essary. I was not often in the room, and 
 while I looked around curiously at the swords 
 and belts and army pictures on the wall, I 
 remarked that Uncle Tom had entered heartily 
 into the reunion, and soon had Number Two 
 in the best of humor. He drank from all of 
 the glasses, I remember, as though he wanted 
 to exhaust the supply of liquor, and talked 
 soldier talk with great ease and enjoyment, 
 frequently saying that he was sorry he had 
 arrived so near the close of the reunion, as he 
 would have enjoyed all of the exercises. As a 
 matter of fact, the reunion had only com- 
 
26 A MAN STORY. 
 
 menced late that afternoon, and as a rule 
 they lasted two or three days, but I believed 
 Uncle Tom was saying this as a preliminary 
 to breaking it up presently. Number Two was 
 disposed to be noisy and drink heavily, but 
 Uncle Tom reminded him with great delicacy 
 that none of the old boys could "stay" as 
 they used to, and that nothing was thought 
 of it if the old soldiers were not as tough as 
 they were during the war, for time was stif 
 fening their frames, and they must take care 
 of themselves. It thus came about naturally 
 enough that after remaining in the room an 
 hour or so, Uncle Tom commenced to talk 
 about breaking up, and to sing songs that both 
 of them remembered in connection with their 
 regiments separating after the war; and I was 
 not surprised when my uncle finally said good 
 night to Number Two, blew out the light, and 
 retired, taking me with him. It seemed a 
 rather bold proceeding even for a bold man 
 like my uncle, but I did not believe the lamp 
 would be lighted again that night. 
 
THE BENDS. 27 
 
 
 
 At three o clock the next morning we heard 
 the town omnibus rattle up to our door, a 
 train having arrived about that time, and after 
 a great noise on the part of the driver in 
 backing the vehicle up to the steps, Number 
 Two got out, and softly ascended to his room, 
 as though he had been away and had just re 
 turned. This was his custom on recovering 
 from the Bends, and we knew that the re 
 union was over. 
 
28 A MAN STORY. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 MKS. TOM. 
 
 WHEN we went downstairs my uncle was 
 greeted at his own door by Mrs. Tom, who 
 had been waiting for him, and he said that he 
 had drank so much of the liquor to keep it 
 from Number Two, that he felt a little like 
 making a night of it ; but he did not, further 
 than to remain up rather late. 
 
 Uncle Tom was very fond of his wife, but 
 he was always saying that he would finally 
 tire of her, and be ashamed of himself for it, 
 although no one ever believed that he meant 
 it. No one could tire of Mrs. Tom ; certainly 
 no one ever had tired of her, and she had been 
 at our house most of her life. 
 
 " When I am on the road," he said, after 
 announcing to his wife that her big foolish 
 lover had returned, and that she should make 
 
MRS. TOM. 29 
 
 the most of the silly fellow, " I long for you 
 as much as a boy longs for recess, for I am 
 not a wise man, and cannot console my loneli 
 ness by thinking of the blessed times when I 
 see you. I don t get any better, either. I sup 
 pose the only way out of it is to quit the road, 
 and come home and tire of you." 
 
 Mrs. Tom was so busy rejoicing because of 
 her merry husband s arrival that she paid little 
 attention to this statement, which seemed rather 
 alarming to me, but perhaps she had heard it 
 before, and knew that he was not serious. 
 
 " But now that I am with you," he contin 
 ued, " I haven t a care in the world. I was 
 thinking last week that there was no use liv 
 ing, and keeping up the struggle, but I have 
 nothing to wish for, now that I am at home. 
 I believe you are better-looking than when I 
 saw you last. I don t imagine that you are 
 known in this country as a beauty, but I m in 
 love, and I think you are the prettiest woman 
 I ever saw." 
 
 I had never thought Mrs. Tom particularly 
 
30 A MAN STORY. 
 
 good-looking, but now that the subject was 
 brought to my mind, I thought she certainly 
 looked better than when I had last looked at 
 her critically; she had a way of growing in 
 your favor the longer you knew her, and as I 
 had known her a long time, I esteemed her 
 very highly. 
 
 "When I drove up just now I thought this 
 old house the handsomest I ever saw, because 
 you were under its roof. I am becoming more 
 ridiculously in love with Lady Pleaseme every 
 day, and sometimes I laugh at iny own folly. 
 But you won t think of all this nonsense, and 
 remind me of it after I have tired of you, will 
 you ? That s the way old Barnaby s wife does." 
 
 Uncle Tom travelled for Barnaby & Co., 
 from the City, and the head of the house did 
 not get along pleasantly with his wife ; we 
 had heard so much of old Barnaby and his 
 meanness with his wife that we felt quite well 
 acquainted with him. 
 
 Mrs. Tom did not reply to his question or 
 intimate how she would act after he had tired 
 
MRS. TOM. 31 
 
 of her, but after returning from an adjoining 
 room with his slippers, she patted his strong 
 frame with girlish glee, and said: 
 
 "You won t, will you?" 
 
 Uncle Tom gravely shook his head, and I 
 believed this to be a declaration that he would 
 never forget her. 
 
 " I say I won t," he said, as he leisurely made 
 preparations to put on the slippers, " and I 
 mean it, now; but you know how the men are. 
 Old Barnaby thought he wouldn t, but he did." 
 
 Mrs. Tom had found his dressing-gown by 
 this time, and gave it to him, saying at the 
 same time, " You will, won t you ? " 
 
 This time Uncle Tom nodded his head and 
 laughed, and I knew he was declaring that 
 he would always love her. These were favorite 
 questions with Mrs. Tom, and when they were 
 together Uncle Tom had his head going a good 
 deal, either shaking it to declare that he 
 would never forget his wife, or nodding it as 
 a means of indicating that he would always 
 love her. Occasionally he shook his head 
 
32 A MAN STORY. 
 
 when he intended to nod it, he kept his head 
 nodding so much in answer to Mrs. Tom s 
 questions, and at these times there was appar 
 ently great excitement, but they thoroughly 
 understood each other, and never had any real 
 trouble. 
 
 "There never was a man as certain of any 
 thing as I am that I will always love you," 
 he said, opening his travelling-bag to look 
 for something, which turned out to be a 
 present for Mrs. Tom ; " but you know old 
 Barnaby thought he would always love his 
 wife, and he hates her now. I wonder if he 
 is not awfully ashamed when he thinks how 
 he has changed; I know I ll be. What a 
 silly woman you are to have confidence in 
 me -, you don t know what a fickle, bad lot 
 the men are. It may be the making of your 
 husband, though, this faith you have in him. 
 I know a man on the road who says his 
 wife believes in him, and he has a foolish 
 ambition to deserve her confidence. He goes 
 to church on Sunday when away from home, 
 
MRS. TOM. 33 
 
 because he thinks it will please his wife, 
 although he can quote from all the in 
 fidel books. He does whatever his wife be 
 lieves he will do, and says it is a pleasure 
 to feel that he is worthy of her great trust 
 in him." 
 
 I thought it possible that Uncle Tom re 
 ferred to himself; I knew that he had a good 
 deal of faith in religion, because his wife 
 wanted him to, Once when he was at home, 
 the pastor in charge of the Fog Lake church 
 had dinner at our house, and when it occurred 
 to Uncle Tom that perhaps his wife would 
 be humiliated to have the good man see that 
 her husband was not religious, he startled 
 them all by asking a very good blessing. I 
 believe that had Mrs. Tom been a Spiritualist, 
 her husband would have secretly made raps, 
 and listened very gravely ; anything his wife 
 believed in was good enough for him. 
 
 Mrs. Tom had examined the present by this 
 time, and while it pleased her she said she 
 feared he could not afford such extravagance, 
 
34 A MAN STORY. 
 
 for his coming home was all the present she 
 wanted; besides, he was saving his money to 
 go into business for himself, and needed it 
 all. Uncle Tom was always bringing home 
 money, his savings from his salary, which he 
 gave his wife to " keep," as he feared he 
 would waste it; he had a lot this time, which 
 he produced to be put away with the other. 
 
 " I am glad to inform you," he said, " that 
 during this trip I have recovered from one 
 of my follies; it was a great struggle, but I 
 conquered it. I suppose I am about the 
 stoutest man in Fog Lake, but there was a 
 time when your worrying over my health 
 pleased me. Had I a headache, you asked; I 
 investigated, and so reluctantly answered No 
 that you thought I was really suffering greatly, 
 and in my goodness was keeping it from you. 
 I am so much in love with you that I was 
 pleased because of your worry ; no one else 
 worries about me, and I gave myself up to 
 it I am ashamed of it, but I did. Well, 
 during this last trip it occurred to me, and 
 
MRS. TOM, 35 
 
 I thought it all over I can never think 
 sensibly of anything when I am with you 
 and I realized how selfish I was, for you are 
 not very strong yourself. A fragile woman 
 like you worrying over the health of a stout 
 fellow like me ! I was as ashamed of that as 
 I will be when I tire of you. So we ll have 
 no more worry over my health; I have re 
 covered from that folly, though I am as bad 
 as ever in all the others. And I intend to 
 bring you presents; do you hear? I intend 
 to bring you presents." 
 
 He said this with mock fierceness, which 
 caused Mrs. Tom and me to laugh. 
 
 "But I ll tell you what you may do," he 
 continued; "you may regard me as a great 
 man kept down by envy. I m not kept down 
 by anything, except by my own worthlessness ; 
 but you may think I am, and I ll enjoy it. 
 Old Barnaby s wife thought he was a great 
 man, and that he would in time startle the 
 world ; but while he enjoyed it once, he must 
 feel ashamed when he realizes that he is now 
 
36 A MAN STORT. 
 
 keeping a store. While I am in love I want 
 to enjoy all there is in it." 
 
 I left him soon after, although I always 
 disliked to go to bed when he was at home, 
 and long after I was in my room I could 
 hear him gayly talking to his wife, and I 
 had no doubt he frequently nodded his head, 
 and as frequently shook it, to declare that he 
 would always love his wife, and that he 
 would never forget her. 
 
THE BOOMER. 37 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE BOOMER. 
 
 WHEN Uncle Tom came home after one of 
 his long trips, he had the habit of sleeping 
 late, and as everything around the house 
 was regulated to suit his convenience, we 
 did not breakfast the following morning until 
 nine o clock. When Number Two appeared, 
 I noticed that he came in from the stable, 
 where he had been at work, although his 
 enemy had been sitting in his room for two 
 hours, looking over a number of newspapers. 
 
 I was glad to notice, also, that Uncle Tom 
 greeted Number Two as though they had not 
 met before within a month, when my uncle 
 was last at home. I thought it was very 
 kind in him ; and my father, who had also 
 returned during the night, looked admiringly 
 at my uncle, as though he thought more 
 
38 A MAN STORY. 
 
 than ever of him, because of his thoughtful- 
 ness, as I did. 
 
 We all admired Uncle Tom, including Num 
 ber One, who conversed with him in beauti 
 ful language during the progress of breakfast; 
 but I thought he was impatient when Uncle 
 Tom turned to Number Two, and spoke of 
 various things in which he was interested. 
 Being naturally a modest man, and still suf 
 fering from the effects of his carouse the 
 night before, grandfather said little in reply; 
 but once he broke out in a place where the 
 remark was not at all appropriate, and said 
 that people should be charitable with the 
 faults of others, as every one kept his skele 
 ton, which I thought was a delicate reference 
 to " The Bends," and perhaps an intimation 
 that he knew something on Number One. 
 
 Of course Mrs. Tom, who had been a poor 
 relation in the family before her marriage, 
 admired Mr. Saulsbury more than any of us, 
 and she had reason to, for there never was 
 a more devoted husband. My uncle was 
 
THE BOOMER. 39 
 
 greatly admired in the town, but he did not 
 seem to care particularly for any one except 
 his wife, arid as Mrs. Tom had been some 
 what neglected before her marriage, she keenly 
 appreciated the distinction of being made much 
 of by her distinguished husband. 
 
 Mrs. Tom came to our house before I can 
 remember, in company with a brother who 
 was always looking for something to do, and 
 her devotion to him was one of the traditions 
 of the family. Being a sleepy, worthless fellow, 
 the brother had no friends, and finally disap 
 peared, after his sister had spent years of her 
 life in getting him up in the morning to go 
 away to the work which she always found for 
 him, and which he neglected in spite of her. 
 Her mother, who was the Boomer s sister, had 
 married a man who must have been much 
 like his son, and I imagined that the mother 
 worried about the father s shiftlessness much 
 as the daughter worried about the son s, for 
 while I heard many kind -words for Mrs. 
 Tom s mother, I heard little to the credit of 
 
40 A MAN STORY. 
 
 her father, though both were entitled to the 
 charity which is usually given to people that 
 are dead. 
 
 Mrs. Tom was so delighted to have her 
 husband at home that it was a pleasant sight 
 to look at her as she tried to think of every 
 thing that would please him, and while we 
 were all fond of him, none of us went to the 
 kitchen as often as she did to see that his 
 breakfast was satisfactory. Uncle Tom appeared 
 to enjoy this as much as she did, for al 
 though he did not like to make trouble, lie 
 knew that she enjoyed it, and said that after 
 a month of looking after his customers, it was 
 mighty good to have somebody look after him ; 
 so he gave himself up to enjoyment, and 
 snapped his fingers at old Barnaby. 
 
 Old Barnaby was his employer, and a hard 
 employer he was, too, for he kept Uncle Tom 
 employed to such an extent that he could not 
 come home more than once in four or five 
 weeks. Sometimes he was away six and seven 
 weeks, much as he had to call him home, for 
 
THE BOOMER. 41 
 
 his wife was the dearest woman in the world, 
 and very fond of him, and there was always 
 great rejoicing in our family when Uncle Tom 
 sat his two handbags down on the parlor floor, 
 and invited us all to come in and congratu 
 late him on his good fortune in getting home 
 after a hard trip. 
 
 Uncle Tom was also popular in the town, 
 and his coming home was always an event, 
 for while Fog Lake was visited by salesmen 
 from a town within sixty or seventy miles, my 
 uncle was the only travelling man who came 
 there from the City, where few of us had ever 
 been, and his affairs were so important that he 
 did not offer to trade with the Fog Lake 
 merchants. The Boomer occasionally made ref 
 erence to his facilities for procuring goods at 
 first hands, by reason of family connections, 
 but I never knew of his buying anything of 
 the house represented by Uncle Tom ; I think 
 this was another fiction of the Boom he was 
 always talking about. 
 
 My father was busy looking over the news- 
 
42 A MAN STORY. 
 
 papers, occasionally making notes of what he 
 read, so that he made little progress with his 
 breakfast. Whenever he found an account of 
 a fire in a newspaper, he at once wrote and 
 invited the man to rebuild in Fog Lake, at 
 the same time offering a lot for the purpose, 
 and as many merchants and manufacturers thus 
 written to had politely replied acknowledging 
 his kindness, and saying they would " think of 
 it," the Boomer believed he was sowing seed 
 in very good ground, and worked early and 
 late. Indeed, he thought his plan of watching 
 the newspapers for accounts of fires was a 
 particularly good one, and we were requested to 
 keep it very quiet, as my father feared that 
 the Boomers in other towns would adopt the 
 same course. He was always finding startling 
 news in the papers, and we were not sur 
 prised when he read the following aloud, at 
 the same time showing the greatest excitement : 
 "It is said that the Sunset route will build 
 a thousand miles of new road during the 
 present year." 
 
THE BOOMER. 43 
 
 Although he was not more than half through 
 with his breakfast, and had only returned from 
 a booming expedition a few hours before, he 
 got up from the table at once, made a hur 
 ried pass at my mother s lips, and went out, 
 and within ten minutes was on his way to 
 the next county to talk to the people about 
 the feasibility of inducing the Sunset route to 
 build that way, although I heard Uncle Tom 
 say that there was no more possibility of his 
 securing it than there was hope of securing 
 the oyster packing-house my father had been 
 talking of some weeks before. Uncle Tom did 
 not have much faith in the Boomer s scheme 
 to transplant codfish in the lake near the town, 
 either, and was somewhat sceptical concerning 
 a great many things which were promptly 
 accepted where we lived. 
 
 The Boomer was naturally a good deal in 
 terested in the improvement of Fog Lake, for 
 he owned nearly all the farms adjoining it, 
 and most of the lots in the town, and it was 
 plain to be seen that when certain of his plans 
 
44 A MAN STORY. 
 
 were perfected, he would become a very rich 
 man by the advance in his property. Up to 
 that time he had not realized much from the 
 boom; indeed, I had only heard of his mak 
 ing one cash transaction, but he had the 
 greatest hope. The one transaction in which 
 he received money was with a certain Mr. 
 Footit, who had been induced to pay cash for 
 a lot of the Boomer s bonds; but as Mrs. 
 Footit was constantly demanding the return of 
 the money, in a very harsh and loud voice, 
 adding, at the same time, that she did not 
 propose to be robbed, he found little comfort 
 even in that. 
 
 While I was standing at the window with 
 Uncle Tom, thinking of Footit, I saw his son 
 Bud, a freckle-faced boy of about my own 
 age, coming along the street. He was trying 
 to coax a stray ^log to follow him, but, as 
 the dog steadily refused to become a member 
 of his family, Bud finally kicked the animal 
 viciously, and came on into the house in an 
 swer to my hail, for I wanted to see him. 
 
THE BOOMER. 45 
 
 Mrs. Footit had a "habit of hiring a negro 
 boy who lived on her farm, the son of a 
 renter, to whip Bud when he would not be 
 have himself, and this having come to the 
 knowledge of Uncle Tom, he had undertaken 
 to teach Bud the art of self-defence, in the 
 hope that he would, in time, be able to van 
 quish the black boy. So we three retired to 
 the stable at once to practise another lesson. 
 Tying cotton batting around our hands with 
 handkerchiefs, Uncle Tom soon had us bang 
 ing away at each other s heads, and parrying, 
 and jumping out of the way, and during the 
 pauses, when he called "time," he gave us 
 new ideas, which we were expected to practise 
 during the next round. 
 
 Bud was the most vicious boy I ever knew, 
 and as he hit me as hard as he could, I was 
 compelled to learn to box, too, or be pounded 
 up every day Uncle Tom was at home. Of 
 course I wanted to see Bud whip the negro, 
 but it seemed to me that in return for my 
 kindness in practising with him, he should 
 
46 A MAN STORY. 
 
 have shown some delicacy in striking me. But 
 he did not; so I was compelled to strike back, 
 and keep out of his way. 
 
 Uncle Tom finally left us, and the fight at 
 times became so furious that we grabbed each 
 other, and tripped, and fell, when we rested 
 awhile, and then went at it again. Bud was 
 always trying to " do " me, I don t know 
 where he learned that word, but I never liked 
 it, and had he succeeded, I think I should 
 have hoped for the success of the negro when 
 the fight came off. 
 
 He expressed a willingness to quit after 
 awhile, but I was in bad humor, and walked 
 back to the house alone, thinking that when 
 I finally came home with blood and bruises 
 all over me, that I could only say, in expla 
 nation to the folks, that they ought to see 
 Bud Footit, for I felt certain that a fight 
 between us was inevitable. 
 
 I was generally regarded as about the most 
 promising boy in that country ; I had attended 
 school so long that I was the head scholar, 
 
THE BOOMER. 47 
 
 and crowded the house at the exhibitions, and 
 as Bud was a boy of no consequence, I felt that 
 he did not appreciate my unselfishness in assist 
 ing him to learn how to square an account 
 with a negro enemy. My given name was 
 Chance (which I regarded as a delicate ad 
 mission that I was the first chance the family 
 had ever had for distinction), therefore his 
 habit of trying to hit in the mouth, and his 
 attempts to blacken eyes, were exceedingly 
 exasperating to a boy who had new clothes 
 out of his father s store whenever he wanted 
 them, and who wore shoes in summer, and 
 who had nothing whatever to do except to 
 prepare himself for the life of a gentleman ; 
 and as I was as good a boxer as he was, and 
 as stout, I made up my mind to show my 
 admirers in the town that while I could tell 
 how many quarts of water the deepest cistern 
 would hold, and how many cubic yards there 
 were in the pyramids, I could also give the 
 blacksmith lessons in hard hitting. I had been 
 applauded by the people because of my fiery 
 
48 A MAN STORY. 
 
 declamations at the school exhibitions (all the 
 business men of the town being present, who 
 were thinking they would bid high for my 
 services when I was ready to engage in busi 
 ness), and I had now made up my mind that 
 when Bud Footit came to town, his father 
 leading him, because he could not see out of 
 his puffed eyes, there would be a new sort 
 of applause for the Bennington boy. It was 
 not generally known in the town that I was 
 a boxer, but the fact would soon come out, 
 and as I walked through the store I imagined 
 I could already see Bud s mother buying arnica 
 with which to bathe her mean son s bruises. 
 
WAS HE IN LOVE? 49 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 WAS HE IN LOVE? 
 
 UNCLE TOM was great to lounge around while 
 at home, and spent most of his time in his 
 room, where his wife constantly hovered around 
 him. They were good enough to often invite 
 me to visit them, and on this particular morn 
 ing, when Uncle Tom went off into a sleep, 
 I assisted Mrs. Tom in fanning him, for it 
 was a hot day. When there was an unusual 
 noise on the outside, she was fearful that it 
 might waken the sleeper; but he enjoyed 
 being at home so much that nothing disturbed 
 him. When he finally awoke of his own accord, 
 Mrs. Tom lifted his head into her lap, as she 
 sat beside him on the bed, and fondled him 
 like a baby. 
 
 "I am so glad to have you at home again," 
 she said, " that you are not to get up at all, 
 and I will bring your dinner up here." 
 
50 A MAN STORY. 
 
 Uncle Tom folded his hands back of his 
 head, and, stretching out comfortably, said that 
 would be nice, but he didn t believe he would 
 have his dinner just then, for he was enjoying 
 himself better as he was. 
 
 " You don t care if I do impose on you, 
 do you?" he said, as she was smoothing his 
 hair, and trying to remember what a mole 
 meant she found on his forehead. 
 
 Mrs. Tom said she enjoyed being imposed 
 upon, if he called anything he ever did im 
 posing on her, at the same time asking me to 
 please lower the blind a little to keep the 
 sun off his precious head. 
 
 " So many people impose on me," Uncle Tom 
 continued, "that when my turn comes to be 
 petted, I like it. I feel like a headstrong boy 
 who runs away, and has come back tired and 
 footsore to his home, where they are all kind 
 and thoughtful, instead of rough and selfish. 
 You have no idea how unreasonable some of 
 my customers are ; they imagine that if they 
 find a great deal of unreasonable fault, I will 
 
WAS HE IN LOVE? 51 
 
 be more careful to protect their interests; but 
 I hope your attention to me is not prompted 
 by selfishness ; I don t deserve such a bless 
 ing, but I believe you are really fond of me, 
 and as I am a foolish sort of a fellow, it is 
 a great comfort to associate with some one who 
 believes in me ; there are so few who do. Old 
 Barnaby, who does not believe in the nonsense 
 that pleases me, would rave if he should see 
 me now, enjoying myself, for he is a very 
 cross man, and is never satisfied except when 
 his men are uncomfortable from being snubbed 
 by customers. I d hate to have that man s 
 disposition. You are sure you wouldn t mind 
 going down after my dinner?" 
 
 Mrs. Tom was quite certain that she shouldn t 
 mind it, and Uncle Tom requested her to go 
 into the store while she was downstairs, and 
 get him a clay pipe and a package of tobacco, 
 for after his dinner he might want to still fur 
 ther test her good-nature by filling the room 
 with smoke. 
 
 So Mrs. Tom propped his head up with a 
 
52 A MAN STORY. 
 
 pillow, and said good-by to him, which he re 
 sponded to by waving his hand, and went to 
 prepare the dinner. 
 
 When she was out of the room, Uncle Toin 
 wanted to know if I didn t think she was a 
 good woman. I replied that I thought she was 
 about the best woman in the world, which 
 seemed to please him; apparently he did not 
 notice that I had said "about the best woman 
 in the world," the exception being my mother, 
 who had such a high opinion of me that I 
 could not say less. 
 
 "You don t mind my making love to her in 
 your presence, do you?" he said again. 
 
 I assured him that I did not, and rather 
 enjoyed it myself, since it pleased her so much, 
 never once thinking that he might be referring 
 to my habit of staying with them so much. 
 Indeed, I do not know that it was on his 
 mind at all, for he never seemed to care for 
 my being about, and I have always hoped that 
 he accepted me as one of his admirers, and 
 was glad to see me at all times, though when I 
 
WAS HE IN LOVE? 53 
 
 remained with them too long, he had a way of 
 disposing of me by suggesting with the great 
 est earnestness that a bed be made up for me 
 on the floor. 
 
 " I m glad you don t mind it," he said, " for 
 it is a great comfort for me to make love to 
 your aunt, and the best of it is, she likes it 
 as well as I do." 
 
 I thought he was going off to sleep again, 
 for he was silent quite a long time, but finally 
 he said: "After you become a man, and are 
 married, your acquaintance with Mrs. Tom will 
 prove very unfortunate ; your wife will seem 
 dreadfully commonplace after having known 
 Mrs. Tom. I think I hear her coming. " 
 
 It was Mrs. Tom (who was really my 
 cousin, though I had formed the habit of 
 calling her my aunt), and she was followed 
 by Number Two, who carried the tray on 
 which the dinner was laid, and though he of 
 fered to retire at once, Uncle Tom called to 
 him to come in and visit him. I knew Num 
 ber Two was hoping for an invitation to come 
 
54 A MAN STORY. 
 
 in, and that he enjoyed being there as % much 
 as I did, so he remained, and assisted in 
 placing the dinner on a table we had drawn 
 up by the bed. I am certain that Mrs. Tom 
 invited him to come up, and that he carried 
 the tray as an act of politeness, for she was 
 always thoughtful of him, and his friend. 
 
 Uncle Tom was quite merry as he ate his 
 dinner, at the idea of three of us waiting on 
 him, and in a bantering way ordered us to 
 put sugar in the tea, and stir it, and cut the 
 toast into pieces. Once Number Two started 
 to go out, and when Uncle Tom protested, 
 he said he would be glad to remain, but he 
 feared he might stay too long, and wear out 
 his welcome, whereupon Uncle Tom put him 
 at his ease by saying that he wanted him to 
 remain until it was cooler, when we would 
 all go out together. 
 
 "I am very fond of your granddaughter, Mr. 
 Bennington," Uncle Tom said to grandfather, 
 who I thought barely remembered his name, 
 he had been called Number Two so long. "I 
 
WAS HE IN LOVEt 55 
 
 shall feel awfully ashamed of myself when I 
 realize that I am becoming tired of her. Of 
 course I do not believe that I shall ever tire 
 of her, but old Barnaby did, and you know 
 most husbands do." 
 
 I did not know what Number Two s expe 
 rience had been, for he had been a widower 
 since I had known him, but he did not offer 
 to give us his personal history, further than 
 to say that when you caught a man at a 
 mean thing you should remember that you 
 yourself were liable to be caught the same 
 way some time, and feel the need of charity, 
 which was the most commendable of all the 
 virtues. 
 
 We all agreed that there was a good deal 
 in Number Two s suggestion, and this pleased 
 him so much that I thought of his triumph 
 over Number One, who was certainly sitting 
 down in his room regretting that he had not 
 been invited upstairs. Uncle Tom added that 
 if the people would have charity for his 
 faults, he would take pleasure in having char- 
 
56 A MAN STORY. 
 
 ity for theirs, and as this was exactly Num 
 ber Two s idea, he was quite good-humored. 
 Besides this, Uncle Tom was addressing his 
 conversation mainly to him, and this was a 
 distinction not to be forgotten. 
 
 "I believe I would be willing to take an 
 oath that I shall never tire of your grand 
 daughter, and that I will love her more every 
 time I see her," Uncle Tom continued, "but 
 it occurred to me just now, when you were 
 speaking of charity, that if I should realize 
 that I was becoming weary of her presence, 
 after loving her as I do now, and always 
 have, that I should feel like a very wicked 
 man, and feel the need of the virtue you 
 speak so highly of. I am always making love 
 to Mrs. Tom, but many things come into my 
 mind that I do not utter, for the memory of 
 them would make me ashamed should I ever 
 tire of her. I often feel like saying that I 
 intend to devote my life to her, but old Bar- 
 naby said that to his wife, and he hates her 
 now ; he is really devoting his life to making it 
 
WAS HE IN LOVE? 57 
 
 disagreeable for her. I find it impossible to 
 keep old Barnaby out of my mind, somehow, 
 he acts so much like a man ; and while I 
 hope to do differently, I cannot help remem 
 bering that the world is full of men who 
 have failed after making the best of promises. 
 You don t mind what I have said, do you, 
 Mrs. Tom?" 
 
 "No, I don t think I do," his wife replied; 
 "but I am sorry you ever thought it possible you 
 would tire of me." 
 
 "Well, I couldn t very well help it with 
 the example of old Barnaby always before 
 me. I don t believe I ever shall tire of 
 you, but when I see a very old man, I can t 
 help thinking of the habit men have of becom 
 ing old, and that I am on the same road. I d 
 give a good deal to know whether old Barnaby 
 was ever as fond of his wife as I am of you. 
 Maybe he was, though, and that is one 
 reason why he is ashamed to go into her 
 presence now; he fears she will remember some 
 of the sweet things he once said to her, and 
 
58 A MAN STORY. 
 
 quote them. Old Barnaby is not a gushy 
 man, and when I think of it, I have no doubt 
 that he was as much in earnest in making love 
 to his wife as I am in making love to you, so it 
 must be that in this respect the to-morrow of 
 men s lives is beyond their control. Old Bar 
 naby has his faults, and I do not attempt to 
 excuse them, but from what I know of him 
 I do not imagine that he was insincere when 
 he declared to Mrs. Barnaby that he loved 
 her. Were it not for the experience of old 
 Barnaby, I should take pride in dedicating my 
 poor life to Mrs. Tom, and probably shed a 
 few tears because of my earnestness, for that 
 is the way I feel; but with the experience of 
 my employer before me, I am afraid to do it ; 
 I am afraid that I may turn out another Bar 
 naby, for it is not what a man is anxious or 
 willing to do that is counted to his credit, but 
 what he actually accomplishes." 
 
 Grandfather said he believed he should like 
 to know old Barnaby, as he felt certain that 
 he would have charity for the faults of others. 
 
WAS HE IN LOVE? 59 
 
 Uncle Tom was certain he would have, where 
 upon grandfather said that was the mark of a 
 man. 
 
 Bud Footit came slouching into the room at 
 this time, looking for a fight, I thought ; but 
 as Uncle Tom did not encourage him, he sat 
 down to think of new ways to hit me. It 
 occurred to me as I looked at him that he 
 deserved all the whippings he received at home ; 
 and that he in particular deserved the one I 
 intended to give him, for I had resolved that 
 since he did not appreciate a friend, I would 
 teach him to respect an enemy. 
 
 "The people I meet travelling on the road," 
 Uncle Tom continued, after discussing old 
 Barnaby s charity, and without noticing Bud, 
 which pleased me, "do not venerate and re 
 spect me as you do here, and it is possible that 
 when a man has an attentive audience, he talks 
 too freely and too long, but you. will pardon 
 me if I say I wonder I am not ashamed to be 
 in love, with all my experience of men. There 
 is some excuse for a young fellow being in 
 
60 A MAN STORY. 
 
 love who imagines that his intended wife is 
 an angel; but I know that Mrs. Tom is a 
 woman, and yet I can t help loving her madly 
 and foolishly. They say that women make 
 more of love than men, and that it is more im 
 portant to them; but no girl was ever more 
 ridiculously fond of her first sweetheart than 
 I am of my wife, and I have been married 
 two years. A man with the worldly experi 
 ence that I have had ought to know better 
 than to make much of love, for the reason that 
 old Barnaby once worshipped his wife, and 
 now despises her. I have heard it said that 
 no man ever thoroughly hates a woman unless 
 he has once loved her, and one really should not 
 make much of anything so unstable as that. 
 I met an old gentleman on the cars one day 
 who had been married six times, and he con 
 fessed to me that he had been in love just the 
 same way every time ; that on five different 
 occasions that which he had considered the love 
 of his life had been entirely forgotten ; on five 
 different occasions he had felt that as his love 
 
WAS HE IN LOVE? 61 
 
 was dead, he must die too ; but nature applied 
 a healing balm to his lacerated heart, and he 
 speedily forgot the old love in a new one. No 
 one is to blame that this is the case, and it 
 is a wise provision that we can off with the 
 old love and on with the new so easily, for 
 otherwise the world would be filled with 
 mourning; but it is the case, therefore I say 
 it is ridiculous for an intelligent person to 
 think as much of another as I do of Mrs. Tom. 
 The natural order of things is right, and I 
 am to blame for a lack of wisdom in making 
 more of love than of anything else in the 
 world. It is a dangerous habit. Being in love 
 will give you brain disease, for the worry of 
 it is worse than overwork. I neglect my busi 
 ness every day to think about my love affair; 
 but it happens to be agreeable to me now. I 
 have known men who carried charms in their 
 pockets, and who said that they were thus 
 cured of serious disorders; the charm I carry 
 cures me of everything, and I believe in it, 
 though I laugh at the men who carry butter- 
 
62 A MAN STORY. 
 
 nuts for rheumatism, as I am certain the world 
 laughs at me. 
 
 "You perhaps never knew any one of appar 
 ent good sense who really knew as little as I 
 do. When I have arranged to see Mrs. Tom 
 on a Thursday, I fear that the order of things 
 will be changed, and that Thursday will never 
 come again. I know better, but I do not do 
 any better than the silliest man alive. When 
 I think of my long absences from Mrs. Tom, 
 and permit myself to think of how sincerely 
 I long to see her, I am as bad as a home 
 sick girl, except that I do not cry; I might 
 cry did I not have the faculty of realizing 
 how sill} T I am, and then I laugh ; but it is 
 a dreadfully weary laugh ; there is no mirth 
 in it, and I am as lonesome as ever. And the 
 worst of it is the habit is growing on me ; but 
 I know a remedy, if I can t do any better, 
 I will come home, and stay long enough to 
 get tired of her." 
 
 He was at once invited to declare that he 
 would always love his wife, and that he would 
 
WAS HE IN LOVE? 63 
 
 never forget her, which he did by nodding 
 and shaking his head; and then he told about 
 a man he had. once known who had a pretty 
 daughter. She engaged herself to a man the 
 father did not like, and the father declared 
 he would never consent to the marriage ; but 
 after a time he yielded, being fond of his 
 child. But by this time the daughter had 
 formed a new attachment, which she was cer 
 tain was the one of her life, and again the 
 father was asked for his blessing. He refused 
 to give it. He had consented to the first one, 
 but he announced that he would hold out for 
 ever against the second young man. He was 
 worried a long time, and held out faithfully 
 several months, but at last he gave in, only 
 to discover that his daughter had made a mis 
 take ; she did not love either of the young 
 men, she said. Then she fell in love with a 
 third young man, and was sure she was in 
 earnest this time, and the father consented to 
 him, after the usual struggle ; then he was 
 asked to consent to a fourth, and a fifth, and 
 
64 A MAX STORY. 
 
 finally died of sorrow while holding out against 
 a sixth. 
 
 " The great hope of my life," Uncle Tom 
 continued, returning to his own affair, "is 
 that I may be able to conduct myself in such 
 a manner that after Mrs. Tom quits speaking 
 to me, she can think of nothing serious to my 
 discredit further than that I am tiresome, and 
 that she is tired of me ; I want to be so fair 
 with her that she cannot hate me, as Mrs. B. 
 does old Barnaby ; who deserves it, no doubt, 
 for it is said that he quarrels. I intend to 
 improve on old Barnaby in another respect: 
 When I discover that Mrs. Tom is tiring of 
 me, I intend to disappear, and spend the re 
 mainder of my life in thinking how agreeable 
 she was before she tired of me; I would pre 
 fer the memory of Mrs. Tom as she is now to 
 the presence and love of any other woman. 
 That is, I think so now; I suppose I would 
 fall in love again in a month, but in such 
 an event I am certain that I should feel 
 ashamed of myself. By the way, when we go 
 
WAS HE IN LOVEf 65 
 
 out driving, suppose we go over to Mrs. 
 Footit s." 
 
 When he made this proposition, his wife 
 usually said, " Tom, you only want to go there 
 to laugh at them ; " and Uncle Tom usually 
 replied, " No, I want to see them ; they are 
 friends of mine, since they are friends of yours, 
 and I want to do my duty by calling there," 
 but as Bud was present, the proposition was 
 agreed to. So it was arranged that during the 
 drive we should call on Mrs. Footit, who 
 lived four miles in the country ; and soon after 
 we started, Uncle Tom and Number Two on 
 the front seat, and Bud and Mrs. Tom and I 
 on the back one. 
 
66 A MAN STORY. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ONE OF OUR NEIGHBORS. 
 
 MRS. FOOTIT was only an old acquaintance 
 of my father s, although Number One always 
 insisted on referring to her as a relative, for 
 he was so thoroughly impressed with the idea 
 that his daughter had married into a bad 
 family that he never read accounts of hang 
 ings out loud, fearful that he might give 
 offence. 
 
 The Boomer was no doubt responsible for 
 this absurd idea, for in his disgust for the 
 distinguished relatives Number One and his 
 daughter were always talking about, he some 
 times pretended to have heard that a relative 
 of his own had been hanged, or sent to 
 jail. Number Two entered heartily into the 
 Boomer s only pleasantry, and I have heard 
 them carry on quite ridiculously concerning 
 
ONE OF OUR NEIGHBORS. 67 
 
 their distressingly worthless kin. This was in 
 tended as a thrust at relative-worshippers in 
 general, but Number One would not so un 
 derstand it, and accepted everything that was 
 said in this vein with so much earnestness 
 that the joke was finally given up. 
 
 I was allowed to go to Mrs. Footit s as 
 often as I pleased, but I seldom took advan 
 tage of the opportunity, except in company 
 with Uncle Tom, who never came home with 
 out calling upon her, for I think she amused 
 him. Mrs. Footit was a tall woman with a 
 great deal of bone, which seemed to stick out 
 in every direction, for I remember that when 
 ever she kissed me, I experienced the sensa 
 tion of being struck in the face by a man 
 who smoked, for her chin-bone always reached 
 me before her lips did. She kissed me on 
 the visit in question, as a tribute to Uncle Tom, 
 I think, for she was as fond of him as the 
 rest of us were, and I afterwards tasted a 
 piece of tobacco on my lips, which gave me 
 the impression that Mrs. Footit also chewed. 
 
68 A MAN STORY. 
 
 I had always known of her smoking, and I 
 had privately accused her of chewing, and per 
 haps drinking and swearing, for she was dis 
 agreeable to me, and I was willing to think 
 almost anything of her. 
 
 The place where they lived was known as 
 "Mrs. Footit s," her husband being of so lit 
 tle importance that no one ever thought of 
 him, except to wonder that he did not quietly 
 disappear sometime, for he was a very good 
 man, and did not smoke, nor chew, nor swear; 
 on the contrary, he was very abstemious and 
 industrious, and although he had a good farm, 
 and money to spare, strangers thought of Mrs. 
 Footit as a widow until they met a quiet little 
 man, and learned that he was Mr. Footit. 
 
 Uncle Tom made a great deal of Footit, as 
 he did of all those who were neglected, but 
 before Footit had done smiling on the evening 
 in question because of Uncle Tom s kindness, 
 there was trouble over the circumstance that 
 his son Bud had refused to speak to Uncle 
 Tom. 
 
ONE OF OUR NEIGHBORS. 69 
 
 "Til blow the horn if you don t," his mother 
 said, in a voice which sounded like a man s; 
 but Bud was stubborn, and did not move. 
 It seemed that his mother had told him to 
 approach Uncle * Tom, and say, " I am very 
 glad to see you, Uncle Thomas," which Bud 
 refused to do. Mrs. Footit did not know that 
 Bud had been to town that day expressly to 
 see Uncle Tom, or that he was at our house 
 a good deal when Uncle Tom was at home, 
 or that he came over with us in the carriage, 
 so she insisted on his being polite, "for once 
 in his life," she expressed it, with a snort. 
 
 But there was something in the command 
 that the boy did not like, so he stubbornly 
 hung his head and refused to move. 
 
 " I m too big to whip you myself," Mrs. 
 Footit said, as she crushed a piece of natural 
 leaf tobacco in the palm of her hand, and rilled 
 a clay pipe, "but you know I ll get some 
 body of your size that will do it ; your father 
 lets you go on like a heathen, but I ll have 
 it out with you, even if there is company." 
 
70 A MAN STORY. 
 
 Footit acted as though he wanted to pro 
 test, but I felt certain that he was afraid to, 
 and that he only escaped whippings himself 
 because he was always amiable ; and although 
 the others felt awkward, Mrs. Footit was very 
 determined, and when Bud would not say, 
 " How do you do, Uncle Thomas ; I am very 
 glad to see you," she went out to the porch, 
 and blew a tremendous blast on a tin horn. 
 We all understood it, and silently waited un 
 til we heard some one dash up the steps and 
 into the house ; a stout negro boy of Bud s 
 age, whose father lived on the farm, and who 
 was regularly hired to whip Bud when he 
 would not behave, being summoned by a blast 
 on the tin horn, and receiving ten cents for 
 his trouble. 
 
 The negro knew what was expected of him, 
 and without paying any attention to the com 
 pany, he walked up to Bud and attempted to 
 slap his cheek. Bud warded off the blow with 
 his left, and hit the negro a tremendous blow 
 in the chest with his right, which staggered 
 
ONE OF OUR NEIGHBORS. 71 
 
 him, and I felt that the fight so long ex 
 pected was now in progress, for Bud waf, 
 thoroughly alive, and held his hands in a man 
 ner which must have satisfied his trainer. 
 Mrs. Tom had never countenanced the boxing 
 lessons, but her husband was so much amused, 
 and it was all so ridiculous, that to keep from 
 laughing she went into another room. Uncle 
 Tom pretended to be silently regretting that 
 it was necessary to punish a boy in this man 
 ner, however bad he was, though he narrowly 
 watched his pupil, and both the parents were 
 amazed to see how their son was acting. It 
 was an amazing sight, I think, for Bud was 
 hopping about the negro like a professional, 
 and just as I was on the point of suggesting 
 that he give him the undercut (having for 
 gotten my own grievance in the excitement), 
 he thought of it himself, and staggered the 
 negro half across the room with a blow on the 
 chin. Mrs. Footit offered to interfere at this 
 point, and help the negro, but Uncle Tom 
 good-naturedly held her back, and said the 
 
72 A MAN STORY. 
 
 white boy ought to have a show. The negro 
 soon recovered, and blindly dashed at his an 
 tagonist, but Bud jumped out of the way, 
 and hit him again as he passed, precisely as 
 Uncle Tom had suggested, and then began 
 slugging him so hard that the negro soon ran 
 out of the room, crying. Bud sat down as 
 though nothing had happened, but Mrs. Footit 
 put on her bonnet and went out, and when 
 she came back she said she had sent the boy s 
 father off, as she would not have such a worth 
 less renter 011 the place. 
 
 Before the trouble was fairly under way, it 
 had occurred to me that in case Bud was a 
 winner I should propose to Mrs. Footit to 
 chastise him at proper intervals myself, though 
 I would scorn to take the ten cents for each 
 whipping that had been formerly paid the 
 negro; but Bud had conducted himself with 
 such surprising ability during the fight, that I 
 concluded to postpone my own engagement 
 with him until I was crowded. 
 
 Mrs. Footit soon recovered herself, and in- 
 
ONE OF OUR NEIGHBORS. 73 
 
 quired after Uncle Tom s health and prospects 
 quite pleasantly, after making an apology for 
 the fight. She put the blame on Footit, al 
 though Footit had had nothing to do with it, 
 and also stated that although in other families 
 it was the habit of fathers to correct their 
 children, she found it necessary to hire the 
 neighbors when Bud became unmanageable, as 
 was often the case, as I knew; I think I had 
 never been at their house that the negro 
 boy had not been called in to earn a dime. 
 
 The fight reminded Mrs. Footit of her other 
 troubles, and as she sat smoking her pipe, 
 and blowing rings into the air, she grumbled 
 and growled at a furious rate, which I thought 
 greatly delighted Uncle Tom, although he 
 seemed quietly pleased over the success of 
 his pupil. I think that Mrs. Tom was also 
 amused, in spite of her former protests against 
 the boxing lessons, for I caught her smiling 
 several times when there was nothing funny 
 in the conversation. 
 
 Footit was in a stupefied but pleasant frame 
 
74 A MAN STORY. 
 
 of mind, I thought, and did not seem to 
 hear the grumbling of his wife, which should 
 have interested him immensely, for he was 
 concerned. It had always been disagreeable 
 to me, but Uncle Tom seemed to enjoy it, 
 and did everything he could to keep her 
 going. At some time in her life Mrs. Footit 
 had been engaged to be married to a young 
 man who clerked in a store, she said she 
 had, but I never believed it, and she talked 
 a great deal of her folly in giving up this 
 chance for social promotion to oblige Footit. 
 It seemed very funny to Uncle Tom that 
 Mrs. Footit should regard this circumstance as 
 of such great importance, but Footit seemed 
 to share in the opinion that the opportunity 
 was one of a lifetime, for he roused up pres 
 ently, and said to Uncle Tom and me softly 
 that he had seen the clerk, and that he was 
 really a great chance ; though he hoped no one 
 would say that he had ever failed in trying to 
 make Mrs. Footit a good husband. His wife 
 heard the remark, for she had sharp ears, and said : 
 
ONE OF OUR NEIGHBORS. 75 
 
 " Oh, you ve done the best you could, 
 Footit; nobody cares to deny that; but no 
 body will deny that the best you can do 
 amounts to little enough." 
 
 This shut up Footit for the night, and he 
 spent the remainder of the evening in trying 
 to hide Bud, who had settled down on the 
 floor beside him. Footit occasionally stroked 
 the boy s head, as a mother might do after 
 her child had been beaten by a hard father, 
 for he seemed to fear that Mrs. Footit would 
 put on the gloves with him herself before the 
 evening was over, and in that event his box 
 ing lessons would do him no good; indeed, 
 Mrs. Footit was so big and bony that I 
 feared that in case Uncle Tom offended her 
 in any way, she would whip Bud s teacher. 
 During the evening the Boomer s bond trans 
 action with Footit occurred to her, and the 
 angry reference she made to it made me feel 
 that my father should take boxing lessons 
 without any unnecessary delay. 
 
 Footit was immensely pleased when Uncle 
 
76 A MAN STORY. 
 
 Tom gave the boy a piece of money, and 
 although Mrs. Footit saw it, and said he 
 would probably swallow it, and choke him 
 self, the good-natured way in which Uncle 
 Tom laughed at the idea convinced me that 
 the present was a dollar, and that Bud could 
 not swallow it. 
 
 There was a cradle in the room, in which 
 a baby girl was sleeping, and when the child 
 became restless, Mrs. Footit told Bud to rock 
 it. He sullenly consented, but I noticed that 
 he moved the cradle in a certain jerky way 
 intended to disturb the child, for it soon began 
 crying, and the father took it in his arms, 
 and walked softly up and down the room to 
 comfort it. Mrs. Footit paid no attention at 
 all, as she was still talking of Hickey, the 
 clerk, and Bud went back to his corner, 
 where he looked malicious so pleasantly that 
 I thought that he had discovered the jerky 
 way of rocking the cradle some time before. 
 
 Mrs. Tom was as indignant as she could be 
 with her husband because of the manner in 
 
ONE OF OUR NEIGHBORS. 77 
 
 which he led Mrs. Footit up to the clerk, 
 for he sympathized with her grief, and said 
 the clerk must suffer, too, which brought out 
 the revelation (which he had heard several times 
 before) that the clerk was married, and that. 
 Mrs. Footit never went to town, or met a 
 stranger, that she did not hear what a 
 devoted husband the clerk was, and how he 
 added a new addition to his house every year ; 
 but if Mrs. Tom was distressed on Footit s 
 account, as was probable, her sympathy was 
 misplaced, for that worthy gentleman appar 
 ently enjoyed hearing that the jewel now in 
 his possession was once coveted by the greatest 
 in the land, and he seemed quite affected 
 when Mrs. Footit wept over the recollection 
 of her misfortunes in a loud way, which made 
 me think it was funny. Indeed, I could not 
 help smiling in a silly sort of way at Footit, who 
 no doubt thought my joy related to the present 
 of a dollar to Bud, but he looked very grave, 
 as though there were some griefs in life which 
 no amount of money could put out of mind. 
 
78 A MAN STORY. 
 
 He lost all interest in his wife s conversa 
 tion as soon as she ceased talking of Hickey, 
 and discussed styles with Mrs. Tom, for he 
 sat down near my grandfather and modestly 
 talked to him, at the same time keeping his 
 arms moving to quiet the baby. Mrs. Tom 
 was very neat in matters of dress, but Mrs. 
 Footit had a wretched figure, though it was 
 not so bad as her style of dressing, and her 
 remarks on the subject were ludicrous, but 
 she remembered that Hickey had once said 
 that pink became her. This reference to the 
 clerk caused Footit to come over to her side 
 again, that he might learn all that was possi 
 ble concerning the great man, but he returned 
 to Number Two when his wife asked Mrs. 
 Tom s judgment as to the respective merits 
 of green and yellow for hat trimming. 
 
 On the way home Uncle Tom said that old 
 Barnaby ought to know Footit, and even 
 talked of bringing his employer to Fog Lake 
 at some time in the future to give him 
 opportunity to meet a very rare man. He 
 
ONE OF OUR NEIGHBORS. 79 
 
 talked a great deal about old Barnaby that 
 night, and we learned that he had not spoken 
 to his wife in a number of years, though they 
 lived under the same roof. Uncle Tom had 
 seen Mrs. Barnaby, and spoke of her as quite 
 a handsome woman, from which I imagined 
 that she must be much younger than her 
 husband, and he said to Mrs. Tom that when 
 she went to the City with him, they would 
 call on the couple ; he felt sure that she would 
 be as much interested in them as he was in 
 Footit and his wife. 
 
 During the drive home Mrs. Tom occupied 
 a place beside her husband on the front seat, 
 and while he talked in the old strain of his 
 folly in being so desperately in love with 
 her, there was something pathetic in all he 
 said ; he was always so lonely and so tired, 
 while on the road, that when he came to Fog 
 Lake he was ashamed of the peace and content 
 he experienced, for he feared that in a little 
 while he would be thinking up excuses to 
 avoid coming home so often. This was not 
 
80 A MAN STORY. 
 
 said in a bantering or flippant way, but as a 
 man might speak of the certainty that the 
 one pleasant delusion left him would soon 
 vanish, and leave him tired and lonely, and 
 without hope of relief. We were quite a long 
 time in driving home, and Uncle Tom did not once 
 notice the presence of Number Two and my 
 self on the back seat, but spoke of himself 
 to Mrs. Tom as a spoilt child who was per 
 fectly happy in the possession of a poor toy 
 to be soon forgotten. 
 
MORE OF THE LOVE STORY. 81 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 MORE OF THE LOVE STORY. 
 
 UNCLE TOM spent the next day as he had 
 spent the day before, in lounging about his 
 room, and I doubt if Mrs. Tom paid him 
 more attention than I did, for we were both 
 with him constantly. Occasionally he talked 
 with the greatest seriousness of his love for 
 his wife, but I noticed that he always smiled 
 at his declarations, as though they were ridic 
 ulous, as he always smiled when he nodded his 
 head to declare that he would always love 
 Mrs. Tom, or shook it to announce that he 
 would never forget her ; but it was the good- 
 humored laugh of a man who might say that, 
 having eaten heartily, he did not feel that he 
 would ever be hungry again. 
 
 "I know better than to be in love," he 
 said, from the easy-chair in which Mrs. Tom 
 
82 A MAN STORY. 
 
 had propped him in such a manner as to make 
 him as comfortable as possible, u but there 
 were so many things I wanted said, and you 
 said them all, in almost the words I used in 
 thinking of them, so I forgot old Barnaby, 
 and the fact that a man in love is wretched 
 because of doubts and jealousies, and ends by 
 hating his wife. The people you know on the 
 road (as you know a street, and care little 
 for) think of everything to your discredit, and 
 while much of their gossip concerning you is 
 true, every one feels that there are a few things 
 that can be said to his credit, and longs for 
 some one to say them ; this is the favor you 
 have done me, for there is nothing to my 
 credit that you have not expressed. I am 
 possessed of very few virtues, but you men 
 tion them frequently. I am so grateful to 
 you for this that it really seems to me that 
 if I should lose you in any way, I should not 
 care to live any longer ; but when I realize 
 that what I say in the most serious earnestness is 
 nonsense, I fear that there is nothing serious 
 
MORE OF THE LOVE STORY. 83 
 
 or worthy about me. I was never in earnest 
 in my life until I fell in love with you; you 
 are oftener in my thoughts than religion, bus 
 iness, and patriotism combined, and I cannot 
 feel flattered when I reflect that this one en 
 thusiasm of my life is liable to be forgotten 
 in a year. I regret that love is not like the 
 true religion, something that you can be con 
 stant to all your life, and find a comfort when 
 death itself comes ; but it isn t ; every man 
 who has deserted his wife has probably felt 
 love as keenly as I do, and expressed it in 
 almost exactly the same words." 
 
 From something Uncle Tom said that day, 
 I came to believe that old Barnaby was in 
 the wrong in the quarrel with his wife ; 
 Uncle Tom said that were old Barnaby in his 
 situation, he would not enjoy Mrs. Tom s com 
 pany from thinking of the separation ; that if 
 he had a taste for liquor, he would be drink 
 ing it all the time, and find fault with his 
 tipple after he had tired of its taste and effect. 
 From this, and from other things that were 
 
84 A MAN STORY. 
 
 said, I imagined that Mr. Barnaby was a very 
 unreasonable old man, and that his young wife 
 was a very wretched and unfortunate woman. 
 Old Barnaby s appetite was never satisfied, it 
 seemed; when he got enough of one thing, he 
 regretted that he ate that, and stormed around 
 because he did not try something else. 
 
 "A man was hanged in the city last week 
 for wife murder," Uncle Tom told us, " and 
 I remember that, when the trial was progress 
 ing, the newspapers published his love letters. 
 They were exquisitely beautiful, and I blushed 
 when I saw that, in writing to his wife, the 
 murderer had used many expressions I had 
 used in writing to you ; the fellow afterwards 
 killed his wife because he hated her. I feel 
 that my sex is disgraced when I recall such 
 things, and I only do it to curb my ridicu 
 lous passion for you; you cannot imagine how 
 ardently I wish that human experience would 
 allow me to believe that I shall always be as 
 happy as I am now. But when I finally tire 
 of you, as old Barnaby did of his wife, I 
 
MORE OF THE LOVE STORY. 85 
 
 hope you will not accuse me of being selfish 
 and fickle, for I shall only tire of you when 
 I cannot help it ; because it is my nature, 
 and I cannot rise above it. I hope you will 
 charitably remember that the foolish earnest 
 ness of a fickle man is the only earnestness 
 the world affords. The man who says he will 
 never forget the town in which he lives, is in 
 earnest, so far as he is capable of being in 
 earnest in anything, and he should not be 
 blamed when he moves away, and forgets the 
 old home in admiring the new. 
 
 "Had I never been as fond of you as I 
 am, I might conceal my disgust for you, when 
 it finally comes, and live on with you as an 
 amiable hypocrite, but I could never do it after 
 loving you as I do now. I should prefer to 
 confess my shame, and go off and live alone ; 
 I could never live a half-way life after living 
 as happily as we have lived, I should prefer 
 absolute misery. 
 
 " I think I talk so much about my tiring 
 of you finally as a means of warding off your 
 
86 A MAN STORY, 
 
 hatred when our humiliation comes ; when you 
 remember that I always said I would, you will 
 think less horribly of me than you would if 
 I had taken tbe most solemn vow to love you 
 forever, for nothing displeases a man or woman 
 so much as to detect another in a misrep 
 resentation ; we have excuses in plenty for 
 ourselves, but little charity for others. Men 
 make moral laws for the government of others 
 from their ideals, but they are not themselves 
 the good men they expect others to be. Had 
 I never known old Barnaby, I should declare 
 in the most solemn manner that I shall love 
 you as I love you now forever, but, unfortu 
 nately, I know old Barnaby, and am subdued." 
 "I have never for a moment doubted that 
 you will always be fond of me," Mrs. Tom said. 
 "All that you have ever said of the proba 
 bility that you will tire of me only convinces 
 me that you never will. I think that at some 
 time in your life some one must have accused 
 you a great deal of being fickle, but I am 
 certain that it was an unjust accusation." 
 
MORE OF THE LOVE STORY. 87 
 
 There was something in the remark that set 
 Uncle Tom to thinking, for he was silent a 
 long time. 
 
 "I never knew any one, except you, who did 
 not accuse me of it," he finally said. "My 
 mother in particular accused me of it. Your 
 love, she used to say to me, 4 reminds me of 
 an appetite. A friend invites you to dine ; 
 you say his pudding is the best you ever 
 tasted, and you believe it. Another friend in 
 vites you to dinner, and you forget all about 
 the other pudding, though it was a good one, 
 and say you never tasted anything so delicious 
 as the latest mess placed before you. Your wife 
 will be a very wretched woman. I know better 
 than to be in love, realizing how fickle I am, 
 consequently I blush when I realize that there 
 never was a school-boy as madly in love as I am." 
 
 It occurred to him that he had not declared 
 himself for awhile, so he vigorously nodded his 
 head, and then shook it, which amused Mrs. 
 Tom, and caused her to declare that he was 
 the best and dearest fellow in the world. 
 
88 A MAN STORY. 
 
 " I wish you and I had no better sense than 
 to imagine that we were created for each 
 other, and that nothing would happen to dis 
 turb the belief; but had I not appeared when 
 I did, you would have married some other 
 man, and been shocked at the suggestion that 
 you could have loved me. Imagine that the 
 other man (a foolish fellow, as I am, and 
 jealous of what might have happened) had 
 appeared first and become your husband, and 
 I had appeared in town on a hunting expedi 
 tion, and the other man should have pointed me 
 out, and said, You might have married him. 
 What would you have done ? You would have 
 gone off and cried, and thought me horrid. What 
 a ridiculous world it is; do you know, I have 
 a pang of jealousy thinking of you crying be 
 cause it was said you might have loved me ? 
 You will say yourself that this is silly, but it 
 is not more silly than the fact that we make 
 so serious a matter of that which might not 
 have happened at all, and which will probably 
 not exist at all after a time. 
 
MORE OF THE LOVE STORY. 89 
 
 "We ought to be wiser than we are; this 
 habit we have of making much of love will 
 cause us a great deal of humiliation. When I 
 have forgotten you, and I say to the second 
 Mrs. Tom, 4 Never was any one as necessary to 
 a man as you are to me (I am thinking that 
 of you this moment), I shall remember you, 
 and blush to such an extent that the second 
 Mrs. Tom will suspect the cause, and abuse 
 me as I deserve. 
 
 "Either you are a very cunning woman, or 
 you have accidentally hit upon the only plan 
 by which I can be managed. I think it is 
 your natural way, though it may be policy, 
 but you treat me so well that I am ashamed 
 not to treat you in the same fashion. What 
 ever I want to do, you want me to do, and 
 the result is I try to repay your goodness by 
 trying to think what will be most agreeable 
 to you. But if you should stand out a great 
 deal for your rights, Mrs. Barnaby has a 
 great many rights, and it keeps her busy pro 
 tecting them, you would find me the meanest 
 
90 A MAN STORY. 
 
 man alive. I have often said to you that I 
 am like the other men in the respect that I 
 shall tire of a love affair ; it is no more than 
 fair that I should admit that I am also like 
 them in having a disposition to quarrel after 
 I have tired of my wife, and be meaner to 
 a woman than I would dare to be to a man. 
 "It is a pity that other women do not 
 adopt your idea, for it is a good one ; men 
 can be managed in that way better than in 
 any other. Other women, no doubt, have 
 contempt for you because of the manner in 
 which you worship me ; but you are wiser than 
 they are ; your worship is responsible for 
 all the good there is in me. If you really 
 meant it when you said I had made you 
 happy, you are entitled to the credit, for I 
 would have been like the rest of them had 
 you bothered much about your rights. There 
 are men enough to do the mean things ; I 
 think the women should be trusting and gentle. 
 Surely you can t really think it of me ; but 
 you say you believe I am fair with you, and 
 
MORE OF THE LOVE STORY. 91 
 
 that is the reason I try to be. If we should 
 meet a lion in the road, you would believe 
 me brave and strong enough to vanquish him, 
 and though the sight of a lion would really 
 frighten me, your confidence would cause me 
 to fight him with more skill and bravery than 
 would have been possible did I feel that you 
 believed I would run away and leave you. 
 In case old Barnaby should go out walking 
 with Mrs. Barnaby which is extremely improb 
 able ; indeed, I laugh at the thought and 
 they should meet a lion in the road, Mrs. Bar 
 naby would at once accuse old Barnaby of 
 being a coward, and run for her life." 
 
 Uncle Tom dozed off to sleep soon after, as 
 though he gave himself up completely to en 
 joyment of his love affair, and talked of what 
 might happen to prepare himself for something 
 disagreeable a long way off ; and the manner 
 in which Mrs. Tom hovered over him con 
 vinced me that in her heart she did not doubt 
 that her husband would always be as fond of 
 her as he was then. 
 
92 A MAN STORY. 
 
 The Footits came to town during the day, 
 Mrs. Footit walking ahead in state, smoking a 
 pipe, followed by Footit, who carried the baby. 
 Mrs. Footit came into the room where we 
 were inquiring for the Boomer, but as he was 
 not at home, she went away, after declaring 
 that no Boomer on earth could swindle her 
 through a weak husband. 
 
 Later in the day she called again, still look 
 ing for the Boomer, and then it was that we 
 made the discovery that Bud had disappeared 
 the night before. I believed he had gone 
 away to become a pugilist, and I could not 
 help remembering the gentle manner in which 
 he sat beside his gentle father the night before, 
 as though he thought more of him than he 
 did of his mother, and was bidding him good- 
 
JOE TACK. 93 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 JOE TACK. 
 
 THE man whom my father seemed to ad 
 mire above all others* was a certain Joe Tack, 
 who was often at our house, and who 
 promptly accepted everything he heard there, 
 for he was a Boomer, too, and if my father 
 had anything particularly desirable to offer in 
 the way of a block of bonds or town lots, 
 Joe Tack promptly took all he could get, and 
 believed that his connection with our family 
 was of great advantage. My father was always 
 attempting to float something new by means 
 of bonds, and these bonds were bought in 
 great quantity by Mr. Tack, and he never 
 objected to the price. 
 
 I don t think he paid very promptly, but I 
 am certain that he never quibbled over the 
 prices of my father s bonds or town lots, and 
 
94 A MAN STORY. 
 
 that he bought them as long as they were in 
 the market. I have no doubt he would have 
 paid had he been possessed of the means, for 
 he was an honest fellow, though somewhat un 
 fortunate in his business affairs. 
 
 Joe Tack believed there was money in a 
 saw-mill, and although he had been unfortu 
 nate in the particular trlat his mills blew up 
 before he had them on a paying basis, he 
 fully expected that in time he would be able 
 to find a sound boiler, and secure the means 
 of paying for the lots and bonds he had 
 purchased. One of the delights of Fog Lake 
 boys was the regular excursion into the woods 
 to see the remains of Joe Tack s saw-mill ; 
 the first time I ever saw him, I believe, he 
 was being carried along the streets on one of 
 his own boards, and when I went out to see 
 him, I felt certain he had boiled himself for 
 the last time, he looked so dreadfully bad ; 
 but he soon opened his eyes and said it was 
 not the fault of the business, but of the boiler, 
 and that everything would yet be all right. 
 
JOE TACK. 95 
 
 I also thought he looked admiringly at the 
 large crowd following him, and that his popu 
 larity in the neighborhood pleased him ; and 
 when his wife appeared, and gave vent to 
 her grief in the most dreadful way, there was 
 such a call for handkerchiefs that I thought 
 the Boomer should order a new supply for 
 the store, for Joe was always being blown up, 
 and from long practice his wife was steadily 
 becoming more touching in her grief. 
 
 When next we heard of him he was hard 
 at work on a new mill, and although this 
 blew up within a few months after it was 
 started, Joe was off with my father on a 
 booming expedition, and escaped. 
 
 Joe was large and good-natured, and firmly 
 believed in all the Boomer s schemes, and 
 probably made a good impression at the public 
 meetings he attended, for he was quite dis 
 tinguished looking, arid I think the Boomer 
 courted him because his good nature and satis 
 fied way convinced the people that his in 
 vestments in bonds and town lots and schemes 
 
96 A MAN STORY. 
 
 of every kind were profitable. He owned 
 bonds in the corset factory, the watch fac 
 tory, and the violin factory, and as these in 
 stitutions had no other existence than a square 
 in the printed map of the three additions to 
 Fog Lake, the Boomer was naturally pleased 
 to find a man who had invested in his 
 schemes, and was free to say that he was 
 well pleased. 
 
 Joe Tack s wife was the ugliest woman I have 
 ever seen in my life, but Joe did not seem to 
 know it ; anyway, his devotion to her was every 
 where talked of, and it was one of his boasts 
 that while he could not run a saw-mill suc 
 cessfully, he was about the best husband on 
 earth. Knowing from experience how danger 
 ous they were, Joe would not permit his wife 
 to go near the saw-mills, so she was often at 
 our house while her husband was repairing his 
 boiler after an accident, and though she was 
 in every one s way, and was so silly that we 
 could not admire her (although she was a 
 good and a willing soul), we knew them both 
 
JOE TACK. 97 
 
 very well, and patiently submitted to Mrs. 
 Tack, because we all admired her husband. 
 When not suffering from scalds and bruises, 
 Joe Tack was a cheerful fellow, because of 
 his confidence that he had at last remedied 
 every difficulty in the boiler way, and it may 
 have been that we originally regarded him as 
 valuable in a business way, for while we 
 knew he was always buying the family bonds 
 and lots, we did not know for some years 
 that he was unable to pay for them. 
 
 We discovered one evening why Joe was so 
 fond of his wife. Mrs. Tack had been at our 
 house several days, talking of seeing Joe on 
 Saturday, and showing a bad set of false 
 teeth when she smiled at the prospect, and 
 although we did not expect him at all, he 
 really came Saturday night, having been unable 
 to get his boiler ready to fire up, which 
 probably saved him. 
 
 It was a rainy night, I remember, for it 
 was said that my father would probably not 
 be able to return on that .account from an 
 
98 A MAN STORY. 
 
 adjoining county, where he had gone to stir 
 the people to action regarding another railroad; 
 so it happened that there were no schemes to 
 talk about, and after Joe had admired his 
 wife as much as he wanted, and been 
 reproached for neglect of her, he had time to 
 talk of himself. He was always bringing his 
 wife something, and this time it was a gold 
 watch. It did not seem to be much of a 
 watch, for it wouldn t run, and I imagined 
 from its battered condition that he had traded 
 for it somewhere. The watch brought about the 
 conversation which gave me my ideas as to why 
 he was such an admirable husband, for while he 
 held it in his hand, he said, addressing his wife : 
 
 "I ve seen her again." 
 
 I did not know what he meant, but his 
 wife seemed to understand, for she became 
 interested at once, and wanted to know where. 
 
 " Over at the mill," Joe replied. " There is 
 a slab shanty there where I sleep, and some 
 time during Thursday night I was awakened 
 by a strange oppression in my breathing. 
 
JO E TACK. 99 
 
 When I sat up in bed, there was a strange light 
 in the room, and there she was my first 
 wife, and what do you suppose she was doing ? " 
 
 None of us knew, of course, but we all 
 looked as curious as possible, and Joe told us. 
 
 "She had this watch in her hand, and was 
 crying over it as though she was sorry I 
 hadn t given her one when she was alive. 
 Sarah has been dead ten years, but she can t 
 get over the way I treated her, it seems, for 
 she frequently comes back to complain. I ll 
 get a letter to-morrow. Whenever I say any 
 thing fond to the present Mrs. Tack, the 
 ghost of the one that s buried reminds me by 
 letter that I didn t treat her that way. Last 
 Tuesday I wrote a letter to my wife in 
 which I said that it did me good even to 
 think about her, and within an hour after I 
 had started it to town in care of a log- 
 hauler, a stranger rode up and said he had 
 been requested by a woman he met on the 
 road to deliver a letter to Joe Tack. When I ac 
 knowledged that to be my name, he gave me 
 
100 A MAN STORY. 
 
 the letter and rode on. It was from Sarah, 
 no postmark, no stamp, but her writing with 
 out a doubt. It said, Had you been as fond 
 of me but wait ; I ll get the letter itself." 
 
 After a search he produced from his pocket 
 a letter, evidently written on prize-package 
 stationery, and read : 
 
 "Had you been as fond of me, we might 
 have lived very happily." 
 
 He threw the letter on the table after read 
 ing it, and said we might look at it, which 
 we did, but could make out nothing save that 
 it was written with purple ink, and apparently 
 by a woman. While the letter was passing 
 from hand to hand, Joe shook the watch, and, 
 after holding it to his ear, said that he be 
 lieved it would run had he not neglected to 
 get a key with which to wind it. 
 
 Number Two looked at the watch, and ex 
 amined it critically, but Number One was as 
 dignified as usual, and paid no attention either 
 to the watch or the conversation. My mother 
 and Mrs. Tom were busy with some sort of 
 
JOE TACK. i iv \ V 
 
 work, and paid so little attention ^tkat- 1 
 thought since that they must have heard all 
 about Sarah before. Uncle Tom was up in his 
 room doing some sort of writing, which ex 
 plained why Mrs. Tom and I were not with 
 him ; neither of us ever left him except when 
 it was necessary. I could not sleep well at 
 night when he was at home, from thinking 
 how much better time I would have with him 
 than I could possibly have in sleeping. 
 
 Mrs. Tack did not seem to mind the refer 
 ences that had been made to her husband s 
 first wife, from which I thought the subject 
 was often talked of between them, and she 
 explained to us without any show of feeling 
 that there was no sense in the way Sarah 
 carried on, as Joe had always treated her well. 
 Joe had never given her a cross word, she 
 said, arid she might let him alone. 
 
 "I wish you could say I had never neg 
 lected her," Mr. Tack interrupted. "That s 
 where I was to blame ; I neglected her. I 
 was young then, and didn t know how much 
 
102 A MAN STORY. 
 
 Women make -of little attentions; so I thought 
 lessly neglected her. If I came home and found 
 her crying, I thought maybe she had heard 
 bad word from her folks, and said nothing; 
 but I know now she was crying because I 
 neglected her. It s a man s duty to make his 
 wife happy, and when you find a woman who 
 is unhappy, you will find a man who neglects 
 to do his duty. It all rests with the man. 
 I know men who are wasting their lives in 
 quarrelling with their mates ; they could with 
 less difficulty make themselves reputations and 
 happy homes. In other ways men have strong 
 competition, and the making of a reputation 
 is difficult, but in being good to his wife, it s 
 like having the only post-office in the town, 
 and getting your stamps for nothing; there is 
 practically no competition." 
 
 Had I been older, the thought would, no 
 doubt, have occurred to me that Joe Tack was 
 making game of his wife, for I could not un 
 derstand how any one could be fond of a 
 woman so hideously ugly and hopelessly silly; 
 
JOE TACK. 103 
 
 but as Mrs. Tack had no such suspicion, and 
 seemed to enjoy it, I thought it was only one 
 of his ways of amusing himself after his con 
 tests with the boilers, and as he stood by the 
 mantel rubbing some sort of salve on his 
 hammer sores, I thought that while he was 
 very much mistaken in regarding his wife as 
 a rare woman, except as to hideousness, he 
 certainly was in earnest. 
 
 " Who is the most noted man in this coun 
 try?" Joe said again, after stroking his wife s 
 cheek, and predicting that he would get a 
 letter for it. " You all know that I am, and 
 that I have no greater recommendation than 
 that I am good to my wife. I know as little 
 as the law allows, but for doing my duty I 
 am a noted man. Mrs. Tack is occasionally 
 unreasonable, but always in a pretty way; but 
 no matter; I am better than ever to her be 
 cause of it, and it only adds to my reputa 
 tion. I ll be in the legislature before I die, 
 you see if I don t; and it will not be because 
 I am a statesman, either, it will be because 
 
104 A MAN STORY. 
 
 of the circumstance that I am good to my 
 wife. I would have been there now had I 
 commenced on Sarah. The men like me for 
 it, as well as the women, for every man s 
 theories are all right, and when I was last 
 carried home, I was moved to tears by the 
 length of the procession. Father was mean to 
 mother, and I neglected Sarah, but I am on 
 the right track now, and I ll stay there, no 
 matter how many letters I get." 
 
 There was a sudden knocking at the front 
 door, and when I opened it, a strange boy 
 handed in a letter for Joe and disappeared. 
 It was written on the same prize-package sta 
 tionery, and addressed in purple ink, and I 
 was not surprised to learn, as I did soon after, 
 that it was from the first Mrs. Tack. Joe read 
 it over himself, with a crestfallen countenance, 
 and then read it aloud : 
 
 " JOE, I was better-looking than your pres 
 ent wife, and you must know it, yet you are 
 kinder to her than you ever were to me. 
 
 " SAKAH." 
 
JOE TACK. 105 
 
 The reading of the letter threw Mrs. Tack 
 into a great state of indignation, during which 
 she said that it was clear that Sarah was no 
 better-mannered as a spirit than she was when 
 alive; but Joe pacified her by patting the warts 
 and whiskers on her cheek. 
 
 "I should not have read the letter," he said. 
 " I shall keep them to myself in future. Who 
 wants to go out to the graveyard ? " 
 
 There was a profound silence, which Joe 
 Tack observed, and then explained that he was 
 going out to see if Sarah s grave had been 
 disturbed, for while he had received many let 
 ters from Sarah, personal visits were uncom 
 mon; therefore the house was ransacked for 
 umbrellas, and when I came back into the 
 room after an excursion into the garret with 
 Joe, I found Mrs. Tack ready to go out. 
 This aroused my interest to such an extent 
 that I resolved to accompany them, and we 
 soon after stepped out into the mud and rain. 
 
 There was a church in Fog Lake, which 
 caused the women a great amount of trouble 
 
106 A MAN STORY. 
 
 to support, but which the men never seemed 
 to worry about, and back of this was the 
 graveyard, although my father had laid out a 
 cemetery further away, and declared that the 
 people should buy lots and improve them, 
 neither of which they did. Toward the church 
 we directed our steps, Joe Tack talking all the 
 time about Sarah, and the queer way she had 
 of expressing her disapprobation of his neglect. 
 I had an idea we should find Sarah sitting on 
 the grave, crying because of the fear that Joe 
 would erect a monument when next he buried 
 a wife, but we did not ; we found nothing at 
 all except the grave, which was in an out-of- 
 the-way corner, and badly neglected. Joe 
 lighted matches under his hat and looked for 
 evidences of fresh dirt, but found none ; so 
 we returned home, where we found that Uncle 
 Tom had come downstairs and was preparing 
 to tell a story. After we had reported that 
 there was no evidence that Sarah s grave 
 had been disturbed, and seated ourselves, ho 
 began : 
 
MR. CANBY AND MR. OTHER. 107 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE STRANGE STORY OF MR. CANBY AND 
 MR. OTHER. 
 
 I ONCE had an intimate friend in a certain 
 Mr. Canby; a sentimental sort of a fellow, 
 who had no great fault further than that he 
 was in love with his wife. Being a matter- 
 of-fact man myself, as you all know, and not 
 given to the sentimental follies, I often warned 
 him of his fault, and begged him to reform, 
 but he said he imagined nothing serious 
 would come of it, and went along in his old 
 way. 
 
 I knew Mrs. Canby quite well, also, and 
 was frequently at her home, and I sometimes 
 thought that if ever a man had excuse for 
 his folly, Canby was the man, for his lady 
 was a most agreeable person and devotedly 
 attached to him, besides being an admirable 
 
108 A MAN STORY. 
 
 woman in every way. But I did not forget 
 my duty to my friend, and repeated my 
 warning of the danger he was running. He 
 laughed at my fears, in his good-natured way, 
 and said what I called his folly was really 
 his joy, and that his infatuation was of the 
 greatest benefit to him; but Canby would not 
 be warned, and I finally hoped that he was 
 one of those sentimental fellows who would 
 do himself no great harm if no great good. 
 But the storm came in spite of my hopes. 
 He had suddenly ceased his visits to me, but 
 as I imagined he was safe at home, more 
 ridiculously in love than ever, but doing no 
 harm, I did not look him up, though I often 
 laughed to myself to think of how Canby, 
 once a bright man, was carrying on. There 
 fore I was particularly shocked when he 
 called on me one night and said he had a 
 rival, and that he could never be happy 
 again. This announcement shocked me beyond 
 expression, for I had regarded Mrs. Canby as 
 a model woman in all respects. 
 
MR. CANBY AXD MR. OTHER. 109 
 
 " My dear fellow," I said to him, " you 
 certainly are not serious when you tell me 
 that Mrs. Canby has been trifling with you?" 
 
 Oh, no, it wasn t that, he explained, but 
 he had grown to think so much of his wife 
 that he had created a phantom with which 
 to torture himself. The more he knew of 
 Mrs. Canby, my unfortunate friend said, the 
 better he liked her, and as she gradually 
 became so necessary to him that he could 
 not think of doing without her, he began to 
 think of how wretched he would have been 
 had he not found her at all. Then he 
 thought of his great loss in case he should 
 die, and next he thought of his Phantom. 
 
 The Phantom was a certain Mr. Other, 
 who would appear after his death and marry 
 his widow. That, Canby said, was horror 
 enough, but it was not the worst; he had a 
 fear that his wife would gradually forget him, 
 and love Mr. Other more than she had ever 
 loved her first husband. 
 
 Of course I was distressed over my friend s 
 
110 A MAN STORY. 
 
 misfortune, but I could not help reminding 
 him of my early warning : that his being in 
 love with his wife would prove his ruin. 
 He had at first imagined that being in 
 love with his wife was a credit to him, and 
 had enjoyed it immensely for awhile, and ac 
 cused me of being crusty because of my 
 warning, but finally the blow came, and he 
 was wrecked. 
 
 The certainty that he might not have met 
 his wife at all, and that she might have 
 loved another as ardently as. she loved him, 
 came into his mind, and his ruin was com 
 pleted by the possibility that she might be 
 come a widow, and deny to a second husband 
 that she had ever loved Canby at all. 
 
 But his sorrow was so sincere that I soon 
 ceased to taunt him, and tried to show him 
 the absurdity of his latest folly ; but he would 
 not be argued out of it ; he loved his wife 
 so much that the thought that she would 
 ever marry again, in the event of his death, 
 crazed him, and he was now certain that he 
 
MR. CANBY AND MR. OTHER. Ill 
 
 would die soon, and give his place to a fel 
 low of no merit named Mr. Other. 
 
 His case was worse than I deemed possible, 
 I discovered after hearing more of it. Canby 
 had taken to dreaming of Mr. Other, and 
 saw him so often that he was able to 
 describe him quite accurately. 
 
 In his dreams he saw Mr. Other living with 
 Mrs. Canby, and heard their conversations. It 
 was all so ridiculous that I could not keep 
 from laughing, much as I respected my friend s 
 feelings, for he repeated conversations he had 
 heard in his sleep between Mr. Other and his 
 widow. 
 
 " Dear Mr. Other " (one of the conversa 
 tions was to this effect), "what a Hank my 
 life was before I met you ! You are so good 
 to me." 
 
 This caused Mr. Other (Canby said) to say 
 he supposed she had said the same thing to 
 her first husband, from which I imagined Mr. 
 Other to be a ridiculous fellow, too; but Mrs. 
 Canby declared (so the dream went) that while 
 
112 A MAN STORY. 
 
 she had respected Mr. Canby, she had married 
 him to please her folks, and had really never 
 loved before. 
 
 Of course I knew this to be absurd, and 
 so did Canby, for he .ran away with his wife, 
 because her folks objected, and never was a 
 woman more completely infatuated with a man 
 than was Mrs. Canby with my friend. 
 
 But nothing would comfort Canby ; at least, 
 nothing I could say, though he made strange 
 hints concerning the comfort of the dead. 
 Everything his wife did, he said, only angered 
 him since his dreaming commenced, for it only 
 reminded him that the love which had once 
 been so precious to him was only a prejudice 
 to be forgotten in a year. His wife had said 
 things to him which had caused him to feel 
 that he was, perhaps, nobler than other men, 
 and better; but he now knew that he was 
 not, and that he would be as utterly forgot 
 ten as though he had never lived. He was, 
 therefore, ready to die and forget his disgrace. 
 
 Another part of his idea was that his pun- 
 
MR. CANBY AND MR. OTHER. 113 
 
 ishment after death would be to constantly 
 attend Mr. and Mrs. Other, as an invisible, 
 silent, and unhappy spirit: he would never be 
 allowed to sleep, but compelled to attend his 
 wife night and day, to be punished by her 
 declarations that she never really loved Canby, 
 and in witnessing her evidences of affection 
 for Mr. Other. 
 
 It was quite horrible, the way he pictured 
 his punishment for having been in love with 
 his wife; but I feared I could do nothing for 
 him, his case seemed utterly hopeless. 
 
 I went home with him at his request, and 
 Mrs. Canby was as pretty as ever, though 
 greatly distressed over her husband s gloomy 
 demeanor. Nothing was the matter, he said, in 
 answer to her anxious questions; oh, no, noth 
 ing at all; and when she brought his slippers, 
 he looked at them with horror, as though he 
 already saw Mr. Other s feet coming that way, 
 and refused to put them on. She paid him 
 great attention while I was there, but he did 
 not recover his spirits ; indeed, he grew steadily 
 
114 A MAN STORY. 
 
 worse, and within a month killed himself, leav 
 ing a note denying that suicides are ever in 
 sane, and declaring that men who kill them 
 selves are really the philosophers, since every 
 man is better off when he is dead. 
 
 The letter left by Canby was quite a re 
 markable document. " There are no wise men 
 living," it said; "as soon as a man becomes 
 wise, and realizes what he is living for, he 
 kills himself. I only hope that the newspapers 
 will not say that I killed myself while tem 
 porarily insane; should they say that I took 
 my life while suffering from a temporary fit 
 of wisdom, they would be nearer the truth." 
 
 Mrs. Canby s grief over the death of her 
 husband was awful to see, and it was feared 
 that she would become insane. They watched 
 with her a long time, but finally it was 
 deemed safe to leave her alone, and within a 
 few months she was able to walk about. I 
 occasionally met her, but, of course, said noth 
 ing with reference to her late husband s malady, 
 though I thought to myself that if poor Canby 
 
MR. CAN BY AND MR. OTHER. 115 
 
 could have heard in his dreams what she said 
 to me concerning him, he would not have 
 killed himself, for a more loyal widow or a 
 more distressed widow never lived. Only one 
 course remained to her, she said: to join poor 
 Canby as soon as possible on the Other Side, 
 and I felt so much sympathy for her that I 
 sometimes mentioned, when I thought she could 
 bear it, how much her husband had thought 
 of her. 
 
 About two years later a young gentleman 
 came to town who created quite a stir in 
 society. I did not hear of him until he had 
 been there some months, for I am not given 
 to things of that sort, but finally I heard so 
 much of him, in spite of myself, that I in 
 quired his name. 
 
 His name was Mr. Other, they told me, 
 and I took an interest in him at once, though 
 his connection with Canby s dream was prob 
 ably only a coincidence, for I found out by 
 means of cautious inquiries that he knew Mrs. 
 Canby only slightly. 
 
116 A MAN STORY. 
 
 \ 
 
 I looked him up, however, and made his 
 acquaintance. Certainly a handsomer fellow 
 than Canby, I thought, though not so bright, 
 but he was evidently as foolish, for he seemed 
 to think a great deal of love. In spite of 
 myself I liked the young fellow, though I 
 expected that Canby would haunt me for it, 
 and he talked to me at times concerning his 
 love affairs, which seemed to be more impor 
 tant in his mind than anything else. He had 
 met the charming Mrs. Canby, he said, and I 
 accepted the opportunity to do my friend 
 justice, which I thought he listened to with 
 more than passing interest. 
 
 For some reason he avoided me after this 
 conversation, and I did not see him again 
 until I met him as the husband of Mrs. 
 Canby. The meeting was under exceedingly 
 odd circumstances; they had both avoided me 
 for months, and I was, therefore, surprised 
 when he called on me one evening, very 
 much as Canby had done before. 
 
 He apologized for his visit, and explained the 
 
MR. CAN BY AND MR. OTHER. 117 
 
 object of it at once ; he was very much in 
 love with his wife, and was constantly haunted 
 with the fear that she had thought more of 
 her first husband than she thought of him ; 
 he knew I was an old acquaintance of Mr. 
 Canb} 7 s, and had resolved to ask me the 
 question, though it caused him much pain. 
 
 I felt it my duty, though the circumstances 
 were painful in the extreme, to do justice to 
 my dead friend, so I told Mr. Other plainly 
 that his wife had certainly seemed fond of 
 her first husband, who was an excellent man, 
 and my intimate friend, and I related, when 
 he urged me, many things I had heard her 
 say and seen her do, as evidence that Mr. 
 Caiiby had been highly esteemed by his wife. 
 
 Mr. Other was in a strange way at once, 
 declaring that he had suspected it all the time, 
 and that in future he would think with 
 pleasure of nothing but the grave. It also 
 turned out that everything loving I had ever 
 heard Mrs. Canby say to her first husband, 
 she had repeated to her second, and while I 
 
118 A MAN STORY. 
 
 tried to comfort Mr. Other, I knew it was 
 impossible. He raved a great deal about his 
 love for his wife, and how he felt when he 
 realized that every little attention shown him 
 had been shown to another, and he also said 
 that he would have been a perfectly happy 
 man had Canby never existed. He insisted 
 upon my going home with him, and as we 
 walked along, he said that although his wife 
 had confessed to him that her life had been 
 a blank before they met, and that she had 
 never before known what love was, he believed 
 she had forgotten, and that she was passion 
 ately fond of a man who had taken his own 
 life because of some discreditable circumstance 
 of which no one knew anything. 
 
 I thought this a very wise remark on the 
 part of Mr. Other, for it is one of the ab 
 surdities of love that those under its spell 
 will earnestly deny their earnestness on previous 
 occasions. While I knew that Mrs. Canby 
 had been thoroughly in love with her first 
 husband, I had no doubt that she firmly be- 
 
MR. CAN BY AND MR. OTHER. 119 
 
 lieved that the love of her life was with Mr. 
 Other, and that she had been forced into the 
 marriage with Mr. Canby, or something of 
 that kind. There is no sincerity in love, 
 though we all believe there is. 
 
 I am sorry now that I did not tell Mr. 
 Other why Canby had killed himself, for 
 he hated his memory, and sneeringly repeated 
 his belief that Canby had suicided because 
 of some sort of dishonor, in spite of my 
 statement that I knew better. 
 
 "If you knew differently," Mr. Other said, 
 "you would say so. I am satisfied that Can- 
 by was a scoundrel, for I have been able to 
 hear little good of him in this neighborhood, 
 and think of my humiliation when I realize 
 that Mrs. Other was once fond of him; think 
 of my feelings when I think of his having 
 touched her, damn him ! I really love the 
 woman, but that fellow was an adventurer." 
 
 His hatred for Canby was very intense, but 
 I thought best to say nothing. 
 
 I am candidly of the opinion that Mrs. 
 
120 A MAN STORY. 
 
 Other thought more of her second husband 
 than of her first, for when I called upon her, in 
 company with Mr. Other, at an unusual hour, 
 she had no hesitancy in throwing her arms 
 about him, and inquiring what was the mat 
 ter, and why he was acting so of late. Noth 
 ing was the matter, he said, and the reply 
 reminded me of Canby; and when she brought 
 his slippers and wanted to put them on his 
 feet, he kicked them away, fearing, no doubt, 
 that they were Canby s, as I believe they 
 were. But nothing was the matter; he kept 
 saying that all the evening, in answer to her 
 appeals, and she was certainly more distressed 
 over his strange behavior than she had been 
 over Canby s. 
 
 Canby had shot himself ; Mr. Other took 
 poison in his wife s presence, and died in 
 frightful convulsions, after declaring that he 
 committed suicide not because he was insane, 
 but because he was too wise a man to live 
 and suffer as he had been suffering for the 
 past few months. During his convulsions, in- 
 
MR. CANBY AND MR. OTHER. 121 
 
 deed, he roared out that he felt better than 
 for months past, but to the last refused to 
 tell why he had taken his life. 
 
 I was one of the pall-bearers at both 
 funerals, and they were both very distressing. 
 In both cases it was feared that the dis 
 tressed wife would lose her reason, and she 
 was watched several days for fear she would 
 take her own life ; but she never did, and 
 when I last saw her she was quite resigned 
 again in the love of a third husband. 
 
 Mr, Canby and Mr. Other were buried side 
 by side, and if ever graves quarrelled, theirs 
 did. 
 
 I often passed that way, and it seemed to 
 me that the grave of Mr. Other wore a per 
 petual grin because its monument was the 
 higher, so I stole poor Canby s body one 
 night, and buried it elsewhere, erecting at its 
 head a monument taller than Mr. Other s, 
 which bore no other inscription than this : 
 "A Victim of Too Much Love; There is 
 Another in This Cemetery." No one knows 
 
122 A MAN STORY. 
 
 I stole the body, and to this day there is 
 great wonder in that neighborhood as to who 
 the two unfortunate gentlemen were who died 
 of Love. 
 
UNCLE TOM WRITES A LETTER. 123 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 UNCLE TOM WHITES A LETTER. 
 
 I LEARNED with regret the next morning 
 that Uncle Tom had gone away on the early 
 train, before daylight, and when I met Mrs. 
 Tom she asked me to read the following let 
 ter, as evidence that her husband was the best 
 fellow in the world: 
 
 "DEAR MRS. TOM, I sat down with a 
 view of writing old Barnaby that I would not 
 return for another week, but the demands of 
 business are pressing, so I concluded instead 
 to write you of my regret at leaving to 
 morrow morning, for, in justice to myself and 
 you, I must hurry away. I enjoy myself so 
 much when at home with you that I am 
 afraid to remain too long, afraid that my con 
 tentment will cause me to rebel against ever 
 
124 A MAN STORY. 
 
 going away again. That would be a misfortune 
 for both of us. 
 
 " I am writing this alone, although under 
 the same roof with you, as a sort of prepara 
 tion for my departure; I am schooling myself 
 for something that is very disagreeable to me. 
 I am ashamed of myself when I realize how 
 foolishly sentimental I am over you. While I 
 am away I hurry through each day, and long 
 for night, because it will put me one stage 
 nearer the happy time when I shall start home 
 to see you; I only consent to sleep at night, 
 because it permits me to spend a few hours 
 in forgetfulness of the fact that I am not 
 with you. All this looks absurd as I write it, 
 but I cannot convince myself that it is not 
 true. 
 
 " I wonder that any man of fair intelligence 
 can be as fond of a woman as I am of you ; 
 that a woman can exert the influence over a 
 man that you exert over me. I do not mean 
 to be impious when I say that I have found 
 in you that peace and courage which should 
 
UNCLE TOM WRITES A LETTER. 125 
 
 come from conversion arid piety ; had I found 
 iu piety the peace you have brought to me, I 
 should have become an evangelist, and urged 
 my fellow-men to seek that which has com 
 forted me so much. It seems to me that this 
 is folly, but perhaps it would not so seem had 
 I not caught a bad contagion from contact 
 with the world; I know something of the 
 world, and the world says the contentment I 
 have found in Fog Lake is the contentment 
 that should come from religion. 
 
 "Although you know more of my inner life 
 than all other living persons combined, I doubt 
 if even you know how severely I criticise my 
 self, or how rigidly I examine everything I 
 accept as the truth. I have spent a great many 
 hours in trying to discover why I am more 
 contented when with you than when away, and 
 why you are more to me than hope and ambi 
 tion; indeed, I have no hope, now that I know 
 you, arid no other ambition than to cause you to 
 always esteem me as highly as you seem to now. 
 But I can make nothing out of the problem 
 
126 A MAN STORY. 
 
 further than that you are wonderfully agreea 
 ble to me ; when I am on the road, I am 
 cold, and damp, and uncomfortable, but when 
 I come home you warm me and rest me; 
 you lead me in such pleasant paths that the 
 disagreeable thoughts that come to me on the 
 road never occur to me at all. 
 
 "You once said that I had never been unjust 
 to you in my life. I am afraid that my de 
 sire to deserve that compliment is as great as 
 any other man s desire to deserve the forgive 
 ness of his Redeemer; I fear that I spend as 
 much time in thinking of that remark as a 
 man should think of the hope that all his sins 
 have been forgotten. 
 
 "If you are able to say at the close of your 
 life that I have never been unjust to you, 
 that will be happiness enough for me, unless 
 you should be able to add that I deserved the 
 confidence and respect you so cheerfully gave 
 me. It seems to me that if I continue to de 
 serve your wonderful confidence, and that if 
 /ou can say in your last days that I havo 
 
UNCLE TOM WRITES A LETTER. 127 
 
 never been unjust to you, I shall have lived 
 the life of a good man. 
 
 "I laugh at the heathen who goes to a 
 wooden idol with all his sorrows, and receives 
 comfort; perhaps the heathen would laugh at 
 me should he be told of the god I worship. 
 I should think old Barnaby ought to be relig 
 ious, for he has found nothing in the world 
 to please him ; but if I should attempt to 
 worship something away off in the sky, with 
 Mrs. Tom sitting by me, I think I should 
 laugh at the absurdity of the proceeding; not 
 that I am an impious man, but because I 
 should honestly feel that way. 
 
 "I have often spoken in jest of the time 
 when I shall tire of you. I believe you know 
 that the time will never come, but I doubt 
 if you know that I really fear that I am too 
 fond of you. I know what can be safely ex 
 pected of a woman, and by this I mean no 
 more than that I know a woman is human. 
 But I have tested you beyond the limit, and 
 you have never disappointed me ; therefore I 
 
128 A MAN STORY. 
 
 have corne naturally to regard you as more 
 than a woman. There is nothing that I covet 
 that you are not to me, and, should you fail 
 me, I should never know another contented 
 moment. I do not believe that you ever will, 
 though it would be natural for you to, for I 
 know that I expect too much. 
 
 "This is the reason I say that I am too 
 fond of you ; your connection with me has 
 been so perfect that I fear that I could not 
 now excuse an action in you that would be 
 no more than natural. 
 
 " If one of the trains on which I travel should 
 go through a bridge a thousand miles away from 
 you, and I should be pinned to the earth beneath 
 a mass of burning wreck, I should expect you 
 to rescue me. There would be no reason in 
 it, but you never did fail me, and somehow 
 in my despair I should expect you to save 
 me ; I should bear up bravely until there 
 was no hope, and then die, believing you had 
 forgotten me. This is what I mean when I 
 say I am too fond of you. 
 
UNCLE TOM WRITES A LETTER. 129 
 
 " Old Barnaby hates his wife with an exag 
 gerated hate she does not deserve. I fear that 
 I love mine with an exaggerated love she 
 cannot deserve. If I were dying, and wanted 
 you to accompany me into the grave, I 
 believe you would do it. There is no limit 
 to my faith in you, and it is because you 
 have always been more than I expected, and 
 everything that I needed. 
 
 " You may not know that nothing amuses the 
 people so much as to hear that any one is 
 desperately in love. The reason is that the 
 people have been in love, and they know 
 how little there is in it ; they know that a 
 man or a woman may feel one month that 
 their love is everything to them, and then 
 laugh at their own folly the next. Every one 
 has felt in his life that while others might be 
 fickle, his love was divine and eternal; but he 
 has discovered later that his love was like 
 every love : a deep wound to heal, and leave 
 no scar ; so the world has come to laugh at 
 a love affair, and the world has reason to be 
 
130 A MAN STORY. 
 
 amused when a new case of heart-sickness 
 presents itself. When I was a boy I had a 
 complaint called water-brash, and though I was 
 dreadfully sick for a few moments, my mother 
 laughed at my deep concern of the conse 
 quences, knowing that in a little while I 
 would be as well as ever. Much as she 
 loved me, I believe she would have laughed 
 in much the same way had I confessed to 
 being in love. 
 
 "If I should ask in a crowd of people if 
 they remembered the foolish joy they experi 
 enced before recovering from any of their love 
 affairs, there would be a knowing smile on 
 every face ; but if I should continue, and tell 
 them that I could not recover from my folly, 
 and that I actually continued to enjoy the 
 delight of being in love for months and 
 months after my marriage, the knowing smile 
 would disappear from every face, and I would 
 be looked upon as a crazy man. 
 
 "If I should meet an adult person who had 
 not outgrown the story of Santa Glaus, I 
 
UNCLE TOM WRITES A LETTER. 131 
 
 believe I should laugh myself; people laugh 
 at those who are in love very much as they 
 laugh at children who believe in the good old 
 man who drives the reindeers, but they all 
 believed in Santa Glaus once themselves. 
 
 " If I have a saint in whom I believe, I think 
 the reason is that my good saint has con 
 vinced me of her existence, in spite of my 
 worldly knowledge. If a big white-whiskered 
 man should come into my room every Christ 
 mas by means of a very small chimney, and 
 give me a blessing that I could feel, and many 
 good gifts besides, I should believe in Santa 
 Glaus. 
 
 " You are the good saint that I believe in, 
 and I can only say in excuse of my folly 
 that it has always honestly seemed to me 
 that whenever I needed help, you gave it to 
 me from a rich storehouse, and it proved to 
 be help better suited to my needs than I 
 could have suggested. I sometimes fear that 
 you must recognize your own weakness, and 
 think ill of me because of my blind faith in 
 
132 A MAN STORY. 
 
 you ; but you will pity my weakness when 
 you know that I have always longed to give 
 myself up to a charm of forgetfulness, and 
 that I have discovered, after recklessly enjoy 
 ing my abandon, that the magic spell you 
 have exercised over me has always been for 
 my good. 
 
 " TOM " 
 
NUMBER ONE ASSERTS HIMSELF. 133 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 NUMBER ONE ASSERTS HIMSELF. 
 
 A FEW weeks after Uncle Tom j s return to 
 the road, I made a discovery that changed the 
 course of my life, and sent me on a journey 
 which will have much to do with this story. 
 
 I walked into the best room one morning, 
 and saw at once that I had interrupted my 
 father and mother in a grave discussion with 
 Number One, for while they stopped talking 
 when I entered, I thought I could detect that 
 they had been seriously discussing a very im 
 portant matter with him. I had always been 
 allowed to believe that I was of considerable 
 importance in the house, so I don t know that 
 I felt any presumption in imagining that I 
 would be able to assist them in solving the 
 knotty question; perhaps I would be able to 
 square an old grudge I entertained for Num- 
 
134 A MAN- STORY. 
 
 ber One, who occasionally had the hardihood 
 to dispute with me ; so I sat down and waited 
 patiently for the conversation to be resumed. 
 
 When I looked at them, I observed a sort of 
 assurance in the face of Number One that con 
 vinced me that whatever the conversation was 
 about, my father and mother had the worst 
 of it, for they both looked worried, as though 
 they had just heard several truths which it was 
 exceedingly uncomfortable for them to admit. 
 
 " There is no reason why his presence should 
 interrupt the conversation," Number One said, 
 rather impatiently; "you all seem to be afraid 
 of him, and that is one reason why he is idle 
 and worthless. I am talking of you, sir." 
 
 He turned upon me in his splendid way, 
 and looked at me coolly as I turned color 
 and gasped for breath, for I realized in an 
 instant that while they had been talking of 
 me, my father and mother felt that the un 
 favorable things he said were true ; they gave 
 evidence in their faces of being unable to 
 answer his arguments. I had felt all my life 
 
NUMBER ONE ASSERTS HIMSELF. 135 
 
 that my mother s fondness for me was shared 
 by every one with whom I came in contact, 
 with the possible exception of Number One, 
 but the idea was dispelled at one cruel blow. 
 
 " The German boys who live across the 
 street," Number One continued, "wore wooden 
 shoes five years ago, and could not speak a 
 word of English, yet one of them is in the 
 bank now, and the other is earning wages at 
 a trade ; while this boy of yours, who has had 
 every opportunity, amounts to nothing at all. 
 The truth is, he has been spoilt by his indul 
 gent mother, and it is wrong; it is time that 
 some one should speak, and speak the dis 
 graceful truth." 
 
 I had hoped that my father would defend 
 me, but he did not, for he only said that 
 there was a man in town he hoped to induce 
 to build a factory, and made preparations to 
 go out, though as he stood with the open 
 door in his hand, he said that he had been 
 ill-used when a boy, and that he had made 
 up his mind that his son should do as he 
 
136 A MAN STORY. 
 
 pleased; if his son turned out badly, he would 
 be sorry, but he could not help it. He had 
 regretted that I was not more industrious, 
 and that I did not take more kindly to use 
 ful things, but he was not a manager, and had 
 turned me over to my mother; if she had 
 made a mistake in her course with me, he 
 was sure it was the result of an indulgence 
 he had always coveted as a boy, and he could 
 only regret it. 
 
 "But, father," my mother said, immediately 
 after the door closed upon the Boomer, as 
 though she felt that I depended upon her to 
 say something to my credit, since my father 
 had failed, " Chance is only twelve years old, 
 and I don t intend that he shall learn a trade; 
 we will do better by him than that." 
 
 "Nonsense," the old gentleman said, impa 
 tiently. "You are not a Princess; you cannot 
 bring him up as a Prince, although you have 
 attempted it. He is contracting such habits of 
 idleness now that he will always be idle. He 
 was never corrected in his life ; whatever he has 
 
NUMBER ONE ASSERTS HIMSELF. 137 
 
 wanted to do he has done, and there has been 
 no one to tell him that he was wrong. It is 
 shameful; if you won t do it, I will tell him 
 that his idleness is town talk, and that much 
 is said concerning his impudence." 
 
 "You were never so strict with me," his 
 daughter insisted. "I have been no more leni 
 ent with him than you were with me. In 
 recollection of your kindness in my ^girlhood, I 
 should not be less thoughtful of my own child." 
 
 "But you did not need the care this fellow 
 does ; you were an Olmstead, and a girl ; but 
 Chance is a boy, and a Bennington, and he 
 needs governing. lie must be controlled and 
 put to work, or I leave the house." 
 
 The argument lasted half an hour, and I 
 was more and more convinced, as it pro 
 ceeded, that my grandfather was right, and 
 that there was really no foundation for any 
 thing my mother said. I remained in the room, 
 hoping that she would think of something to 
 encourage me, but she did not, though she cer 
 tainly tried as hard as she could. 
 
138 A MAN STORY. 
 
 I hope I do not fail in respect to my fam 
 ily when I say that I was almost inclined to 
 take the part of my grandfather, and feel 
 resentment because I had not been brought up 
 differently; I had always been permitted to do 
 as I pleased, and as the neighbors did not feel 
 like pointing out my defects, I had remained 
 in ignorance of my own weaknesses. 
 
 I believe my mother s idea was that when 
 I became a little older, the business-men of 
 the place would call upon me, and beg that 
 I assist them in their affairs ; indeed, I remem 
 ber that she said, during the talk with her 
 father, that when I was a little older, he 
 would see that tlie banker would want my 
 services, and that I would replace the German 
 boy ; but the old gentleman was firm in his 
 conviction that I was idle, and worthless, and 
 impudent, and talked of the matter so plainly 
 that I almost became convinced of it myself. 
 There had been a time when I imagined that 
 Number One disliked me because he realized 
 that I was his principal opponent there in 
 
NUMBER ONE ASSERTS HIMSELF. 139 
 
 intelligence and learning ; but I knew better 
 now, and felt thoroughly ashamed of myself. 
 All this humiliated me so much that I re 
 solved to run away, and go to the City, where 
 I hoped to find Uncle Tom, and opportunity 
 to distinguish myself. So I bolted out of the 
 room, resolved to take nothing with me save 
 the clothing I had on. My mother called after 
 me, and was greatly frightened, but I heard 
 her father say it was only my idle bravado, 
 and that I would soon return. But for this 
 my determination to leave Fog Lake might 
 have failed me, for it seemed a dreadfully bold 
 thing to do, but my indignation increased as 
 I walked hurriedly through the town, resolved 
 to go to the City, where I hoped to find 
 Uncle Tom, for he usually spent several days 
 there after a trip of four or five weeks. He 
 would certainly be there within a few days 
 after my arrival, so I was determined to go 
 to the City and tell him how I had been 
 treated. Who has forgotten the dread and fear 
 with which he at first left home? I do not 
 
140 A MAN STORY. 
 
 believe I could have felt worse than I did had 
 I been walking to the grave where I was to be 
 buried; walking because I was so poor that I 
 could not afford a hearse, and alone because 
 I was so friendless that I could not afford a 
 procession. 
 
 In order to avoid seeing any one who might 
 know me, for I imagined that if my inten 
 tion to run away should be discovered, all of 
 Fog Lake would turn out to prevent rny go 
 ing, I sat out to walk to . a station four 
 miles below, where the train was due about 
 seven o clock in the evening. I had saved up 
 a small amount of money, which I acciden 
 tally had about me, but I took nothing else. 
 I was sorry I was compelled to take even the 
 money, for I wanted the folks at home to feel 
 that I was so high-spirited, and so confident 
 of my own ability, that I had gone out into 
 the world without a penny, certain that I could 
 win my own way. I fear that I wanted to 
 worry them all as much as possible, but as I 
 trudged wearily along the road, I am not sure 
 
NUMBER ONE ASSERTS HIMSELF. 141 
 
 that the hope did not enter my head that I 
 would be overtaken by some one in a spring 
 wagon, for I became dreadfully tired. 
 
 The road lay through an extensive tract 
 known as the Brooper Woods, where it was 
 said there were panthers, which cried at night 
 like lost children, to induce travellers to ap 
 proach them. The land was owned by specu 
 lators, and it was a dismal place even in the 
 daytime, for it always seemed damp under 
 the trees, as though there was more rain 
 there than anywhere else. It was also said 
 that a witch and her seven daughters lived 
 in the Brooper Woods, who disguised them 
 selves as honest women, and told mischievous 
 lies to travellers passing through, and I hoped 
 that if I escaped the panthers, I should not 
 meet a strange woman who would inform me 
 that the person I sought was at home, and 
 anxious to see me, for that would be a very 
 unfavorable sign. 
 
 Joe Tack had removed his saw-mill to that 
 part of the country, and although I think lie 
 
142 A MAN STORY. 
 
 was an interloper, there was so little prospect 
 of his getting the mill running that he was 
 not interfered with. I stopped a few moments 
 to talk with him on reaching his place, but 
 he did not inquire where I was going. In 
 deed, he seemed rather offended that I did not 
 take an interest in his affairs, for while ham 
 mering away at his boiler, he told me that 
 he had seen his first wife again, and looked 
 through his pockets for a letter he had 
 lately received, but he did not find it, and 
 soon went off to the other side of the build 
 ing, when I slipped away, feeling that my 
 grandfather was right in his contemptible 
 opinion of me. 
 
 The people I met on the road and those I 
 met around the station looked at me with an 
 indifference which caused me to secretly wish 
 for a time that they could know that I was re 
 garded as the smartest boy in Fog Lake, and 
 that I was running away because I was not 
 appreciated, and the idea even occurred to me 
 that in case a pursuing party should dash into 
 
NUMBER ONE ASSERTS HIMSELF. 143 
 
 the station, and forcibly prevent my leaving, 
 it would be a sort of triumph over those who 
 regarded me with so little interest. I also 
 thought that in that case I would have the 
 satisfaction of thinking that I could have ac 
 complished all that was ever expected of me 
 had I been permitted to go out into the 
 world; but the humiliating thought soon came 
 to me that I had been found out, and 
 denounced by my grandfather, and that prob 
 ably no one cared what became of me. So 
 the hour I was to wait at the station slipped 
 rapidly and uncomfortably by, and as the 
 prospects of a rescue grew smaller, I felt 
 more and more like crying, for I believe now 
 that I had never doubted that in some way 
 my intention would be discovered, and my 
 going away prevented, and that my cunningly 
 devised plan of escape would be thought of 
 as additional evidence that I was a particularly 
 bright boy, as well as a boy of spirit. 
 
 Going to the City alone seemed easy enough 
 while I was at home, but I regarded it with 
 
144 A MAN STORY. 
 
 horror as I stood shivering on the platform 
 waiting for the train. Still, there was a hope 
 that the telegraph would be brought into use, 
 in which event I would be taken in charge 
 some time during the night ; so when the train 
 was nearly due I bought a ticket for the 
 City, nearly all my precious money being re 
 quired for the purpose. I had once thought 
 that should a boy like I was buy a ticket 
 for the City, the circumstance would attract 
 comment; but it did not, and I went aboard 
 the train when it arrived feeling that I had 
 not a friend in the world. 
 
 Had I been experienced, I could have se 
 cured a comfortable seat in a chair car with 
 my ticket, but I supposed there was an ex 
 tra charge for that, so I went into a crowded 
 car where there were crying children, and 
 fretful mothers with surly husbands, and won 
 dered how I should pass the night, as the 
 train would not arrive in the City until the 
 following morning. Occasionally a train-boy 
 came through, who looked at me as though he 
 
NUMBER ONE ASSERTS HIMSELF. 145 
 
 expected I would try to steal something out of 
 his basket; but I thought he would have re 
 garded me in a different light had he known 
 that my father kept a store of his own, and 
 that I had been - free to take oranges and figs 
 all my life. 
 
 There was a long delay about eight o clock, 
 when many of the passengers went out to lunch, 
 but after that the train made short stops, and 
 ran very rapidly. Sometimes I wondered if 
 the train-men realized how rapidly we were 
 going, but while I was thinking about it 
 with alarm, the conductor would come in, seat 
 himself, and quietly look over the papers he 
 took from his pocket; or the brakeman would 
 come in and take a drink of ice-water with the 
 greatest unconcern, keeping his feet in a mari 
 ner which I greatly admired. I argued from 
 this that there was no danger, and finally went 
 off to sleep, awaking at break of day wjth a 
 pain in my shoulders, and an indication of a 
 cold in my head. 
 
 I at once felt certain that the train was run- 
 
146 A MAN STORY, 
 
 ning away, and that the men in charge of the 
 engine must have fallen off. We were run 
 ning along a river, and so very rapidly that it 
 seemed impossible to believe that any sane man 
 would permit it. The other passengers were 
 sleeping, and while I was thinking that I 
 might do something to save the train and the 
 people, and distinguish myself in such a man 
 ner as to cause those at home to feel that they 
 had neglected me, there was a sharp blast 
 from the engine whistle, and we soon stopped 
 for a moment at a lonely place where there 
 were few lights, when we went on again. 
 
 Being compelled to give up the heroic plan, 
 I took a kind of delight in thinking that *I 
 must be on a train which was making the 
 fastest time on record, and that when the fact 
 was mentioned in the City papers, I should 
 send a copy home, with a marginal note to 
 the%iffect that I was one of the passengers. 
 
 Before I had done congratulating myself, 
 the danger was over, for the train began 
 slowing up, and we were soon in the City. 
 
/ AM SURPRISED. 147 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 I AM SURPRISED 
 
 ABOUT the first person I met after leaving 
 the train was Bud Footit, who greeted me 
 with the lofty indifference that might distin 
 guish a City man who was bothered a great 
 deal by acquaintances from the country, though 
 he became more friendly when he saw that I 
 was utterly lost in the noisy and rushing 
 crowd. He appeared to have some sort of 
 business there, for he was in a hurry, and as 
 I followed him around I learned that he was 
 employed at a milk depot, and that his house 
 expected a large number of cans on that train. 
 I had known that Bud had gone away, al 
 though I did not know where, and there was 
 a keen sense of disappointment in realizing 
 that I was not the first Fog Lake boy who 
 had gone away to the City. I also felt a timid 
 
148 A MAN STORY. 
 
 disgrace because Mrs. Footit s boy, a fellow of 
 no consequence, did not mind the noise and 
 crowd of the City, while I was very much im 
 pressed with both, and I think I humbly ac 
 cepted it as evidence that when my absence 
 was discovered at home, there would be gen 
 eral rejoicing. 
 
 Bud had an air with him which indicated 
 that he had improved on Uncle Tom s lessons 
 in fighting, for when we went ahead to see 
 about the milk cans, he spoke sharply to a 
 man who came near running into us with a 
 truck, and said to me that he had a notion to 
 hit the fellow for luck. 
 
 A wagon belonging to Bud s house soon 
 arrived; and after I had helped load the cans 
 into it, I climbed into the seat with Bud and 
 the driver, and started up into the City. Bud 
 said he knew where Barnaby & Co. s place 
 was, and would set me down there; and as we 
 drove along he explained that while he fre 
 quently passed the place, he had not yet 
 stopped in to inquire for Uncle Tom, as he had 
 
/ AM SURPRISED. 149 
 
 no doubt that Uncle Tom, even if he should 
 be at home, would as soon see a ghost as any 
 of the Fog Lake grays. I did not know what 
 a gray was, so Bud explained that they were 
 " countries," and that I was one, which did not 
 increase my confidence in a welcome from 
 Uncle Tom; and to make matters worse, I 
 feared that Uncle Tom s associates would see 
 me alight in front of the establishment from a 
 milk wagon. 
 
 The driver of the wagon, who was a young 
 fellow, too, but older than Bud, seemed to 
 have the greatest respect for Mrs. Footit s boy, 
 for in a conversation they carried on, evidently 
 for my benefit, I learned that my friend had 
 already distinguished himself; that he was 
 known in sporting circles as " Bud, the 
 Country," and that he had engaged in six 
 fights in four weeks, easily winning, except in 
 one instance when he was hit with a rock. 
 They were going out that night to "do" the 
 young fellow who had thrown the rock, who 
 would probably be found in company with 
 
150 A MAN STORY. 
 
 four associates in an alley known as Howler, 
 and as a special mark of favor they invited 
 me to accompany them, which kindness I was 
 compelled to decline with thanks, owing to 
 other engagements. 
 
 The wagon finally stopped in a busy street, 
 and I saw with a shudder a modest sign on 
 a very large building containing the name 
 "Barnaby & Co." Bud gave me a card con 
 taining the address of the house for which he 
 worked, and I alighted promising to see him 
 again, for I thought that in case Uncle Tom 
 was on the road, I might find it necessary 
 to remain with Bud until his return, though 
 I made up my mind that I would not call 
 until the next day, for I was certain that I 
 had no business that night in Howler Alley. 
 
 In the hope that the clerks at Barnaby & 
 Co. s had not seen me on the milk wagon, I 
 resolved to stroll around for awhile, and ap 
 pear at the door from another direction, and 
 this I did, taking my breakfast before return 
 ing. When I could no longer find excuse for 
 
/ AM SURPRISED. 151 
 
 remaining away, I walked into the store and 
 inquired of a man who was rolling a barrel 
 if Mr. Tom Saulsbuiy was in. He answered 
 gruffly that he was in the office, and I 
 walked back to where a number of clerks 
 were employed, but Uncle Tom was not 
 among them. In answer to another inquiry, 
 one of the clerks replied very civilly that Mr. 
 Saulsbury was in the office, at the same time 
 pointing to a door marked "Private." While 
 thinking that the important employe s were 
 more civil than the unimportant ones, and 
 that I should probably find old Barnaby glad 
 to see me, I pushed the door open and 
 stepped into a room comfortably equipped for 
 business. At a large desk, with his back 
 toward me, sat Uncle Tom, engaged in looking 
 through a lot of papers. When I laid my 
 hand on his shoulder, he turned quickly, as 
 though he was not accustomed to such a fa 
 miliarity, and the look he gave me left no 
 doubt that he was displeased. He resumed 
 his work without speaking, after looking at 
 
152 A MAN STORY. 
 
 me, and continued running through his papers, 
 but without any purpose, and without doing 
 anything with them, for I noticed that his eyes 
 sought the window, and that he looked va 
 cantly at nothing while holding the papers in 
 his hand. Finally he inquired, still staring 
 out of the window : 
 
 " When did you come ? " 
 
 I told him, and he again tried to resume his 
 work, but without success, and I felt so queer 
 that I had a notion to leave the room. He was 
 not the same man at all, except in looks, and 
 when he muttered that he was very busy, and 
 that I should sit down until he had more 
 leisure, I took a seat at one side, and looked 
 at him in astonishment. 
 
 Several of the clerks I had seen in the outer 
 office came in to discuss various matters with 
 him, and his conversation with them was short 
 and business-like ; he was not at all like the 
 good-natured fellow I had admired so ardently 
 in Fog Lake. One of the clerks, before com 
 mencing to discuss the business he had in 
 
I AM SURPRISED. 153 
 
 hand, looked curiously at me, and Uncle Tom 
 saw this, and said it was all right, without 
 turning around, and the business went on. 
 Although Uncle Tom was given to all sorts 
 of idleness when at home, not a superfluous 
 word escaped him here, and once it happened 
 that two of the men were in the room at the 
 same time, the second to arrive waiting near 
 the door for his turn, and looking at me with 
 a great deal of curiosity. Uncle Tom knew 
 this without looking up, for he soon dismissed 
 the first man, saying he would see him in the 
 afternoon, and talked with the other one, 
 deciding whatever was wanted with a few 
 words. 
 
 Men who evidently had no connection with 
 the house came in, and talked about matters 
 concerning which I knew nothing, and had 
 never heard. Some of these greeted Uncle 
 Tom quite familiarly, but always with great 
 politeness, and knowing his disposition, I won 
 dered that he did not go out in town, and 
 enjoy himself with them. But instead of this 
 
154 A MAN STORY. 
 
 he said as little as possible to all callers, and 
 made several engagements for the afternoon. 
 The only thing I could make out of it was 
 that old Barnaby was sick, and that Uncle Tom 
 had been called in from the road to take his 
 place, which I thought of as quite an honor 
 for our family; but none of the visitors in 
 quired how old Barnaby was getting along, 
 and none of them seemed surprised to find 
 Uncle Tom occupying his place. 
 
 After I had been watching this strange 
 proceeding for two or three hours, there was 
 a lull in the affairs of the house, and Uncle 
 Tom acted as though he had a notion to 
 speak to me. 
 
 "Don t you begin to suspect something?" 
 he said, in a manner which was not at all like 
 him. 
 
 Believing that he meant that I ought to 
 realize by that time that he was not glad 
 to see me, and that it was my duty to get 
 away as soon as possible, I explained that I 
 was sorry I had annoyed him with a call, but 
 
/ AM SURPRISED. 155 
 
 that while he had never invited me, he had 
 certainly never intimated that I should not call 
 at Barnaby & Co. s and ask for him. 
 
 He did not reply immediately, but looked 
 awhile in silence at a spot on the window, 
 which seemed to be a favorite with him, for 
 he had looked at the same place before. 
 
 " I don t mean that," he said, after awhile, 
 without looking at me. " Doesn t something 
 else occur to you?" 
 
 I hadn t the remotest idea what he meant, 
 and said so. % 
 
 "Well, then," he replied, still looking at the 
 favorite spot on the window, "I m old Bar 
 naby." 
 
156 A MAN STORY. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 MRS. BARNABY. 
 
 MY first impression was that it was my duty 
 to be indignant, and spring up in a tragic man 
 ner, and denounce him in behalf of the family. 
 I think every one has an exaggerated idea of 
 his family honor as distinguished from his own, 
 but my admiration for the man was so strong 
 that I found that I lacked the courage to do 
 it, so I did not say anything at all, though 
 there was a flutter at my heart when I re 
 membered how Mrs. Tom would receive the 
 news. She had been so happy, poor girl; I 
 thought the shock would kill her. 
 
 I at first felt a faintness and horror when 
 I thought of my uncle making an innocent 
 accomplice of Mrs. Tom in a wrong, but I 
 remembered that he did not seem to be that 
 sort of a man, and felt that in justice to all 
 
MRS. BARNABY. 157 
 
 parties I should wait till I knew more of the 
 matter before denouncing him. He had been 
 an ideal man to me so long that I could not 
 accept him at once as an ideal fiend, and I 
 felt sure that there must be explanations that 
 would relieve my friend; but however guilty I 
 might have believed him, I could not at once 
 shake off my old admiration for him. 
 
 I could not even act independently of him, 
 for when he put on his hat, and intimated 
 that I was to go out with him, I followed 
 without saying a word, and soon found myself 
 in a private room in a restaurant, where I 
 imagined he frequently lunched, for the attend 
 ants seemed to know him, and spoke of him 
 as Mr. Saulsbury. 
 
 It was evidently his intention to talk to me 
 concerning the matter when he ordered the pri 
 vate room, for we could have lunched equally 
 well, and cheaper, downstairs ; but he changed his 
 mind, apparently, for he only said with reference 
 to an explanation that he had better explain it 
 to Mrs. Tom, who would understand it better. 
 
158 A MAX STORY. 
 
 Although he did not inquire about Mrs. 
 Tom, I thought he was ashamed to do that, 
 he gave evidence of his old regard for her 
 in many ways, and once said that as she had 
 perfect confidence in him, he could deceive her 
 if circumstances required it, but that it wasn t 
 necessary, and he wouldn t do it, anyway. 
 I had never seen him so much disturbed be 
 fore, and I thought it remarkable that he 
 ordered and drank off several glasses of liquor, 
 for I had heard him say that while he had 
 his faults, he did not drink. He was as polite 
 to me as I could have expected had I been 
 an agreeable guest, but he had a way of for 
 getting I was in the room, which distressed 
 me on his as well as my own account, and 
 there was a sort of recklessness in his manner 
 which made me think that had an enemy of 
 his come into the room in an equally bad 
 humor, there would have been a fight. 
 
 Once he said he was glad that it was I 
 who had found him out, instead of a stranger; 
 which I understood as an intimation that he 
 
MRS. BARNABY. 159 
 
 thought I would be of use in straightening 
 matters out, or in keeping matters quiet. He 
 had often wondered who it would be ; for a 
 long time he had been expecting some one 
 from Fog Lake to step into his office as I had 
 done, and every footstep had frightened him, 
 and he was glad that it was over; he had 
 dreaded the plunge into the cold water, but 
 felt better now that he was out of it. 
 
 This led him up to saying that while it 
 looked rather bad, it was really all right, and 
 that Mrs. Tom would understand it. He said 
 this in a way which convinced me that he 
 believed I would accept the statement unhesi 
 tatingly; there was that in his manner which 
 made me think that he would not deceive a 
 friend, and that he regarded me as a friend, 
 therefore when he said it was really all right, 
 and that Mrs. Tom would understand it, I 
 believed that what he said was true; I could 
 never change the impression he then gave me, 
 and though my faith in him was greatly tried 
 at times, I continued to believe that in time 
 
160 A MAN STORY. 
 
 lie would make a satisfactory explanation. He 
 had a certain respect for his own cause which 
 impressed me greatly, and his manner of ac 
 cepting me as a friend to whom it was not 
 necessary to make explanations who believed 
 in him, anyway, as Mrs. Tom did impressed 
 me still more, and I was content to wait until 
 such time as he saw fit to demonstrate that 
 he deserved my confidence. 
 
 In referring to Mrs. Tom, there was some 
 thing so touching and confident in his voice 
 that I resolved to tell her of it when we met, 
 knowing that she would be pleased, for the 
 slightest reference to her would soften his 
 tones at once ; he evidently felt that Mrs. 
 Tom would understand his situation, and that 
 she would believe whatever he told her, and 
 do whatever he advised, confident that his 
 statements would be true, and his advice good. 
 
 We spent an hour in walking about after 
 the dinner, and I thought Uncle Tom was 
 trying to decide what had better be done 
 with me; but he did not ask my opinion on 
 
MRS. BARNABY, 161 
 
 the subject, for he seldom spoke to me while 
 on the streets, and not at all except to ex 
 plain something which attracted my attention. 
 It had occurred to me once at home that a 
 gloomy man would have felt ashamed of him 
 self on encountering my good-natured uncle, 
 but it seemed from the evidence before me 
 that my uncle was a gloomy man himself in 
 the City, but he recovered from his mood per 
 ceptibly after fixing on a plan with reference 
 to me; he did not tell me what it was, but 
 I knew the exact moment when he made up 
 his mind, for he returned to Barnaby & Co. s 
 at once, and resumed his place at the desk. 
 
 I sat down near him, and occasionally he 
 tossed me a book or a paper with which to 
 amuse myself, but he had little to say. Only 
 a few persons came in to see him, and two 
 or three times he went out alone, remaining 
 some time. After the lights were lit in the 
 gloomy place, he came back into the office, 
 and asked me to write a letter, which I did 
 from his dictation, as follows : 
 
162 A MAN STORY. 
 
 " DEAR MOTHER, I am now in the City, 
 and you need not worry concerning me. I 
 found Uncle Tom at home, but he is going 
 away in a few days, and will take me with 
 
 him, to a place which he has thought of that 
 
 
 will satisfy you. When I am finally settled, 
 
 I will write you again. With much love 
 for all, 
 
 " C." 
 
 This was sealed, directed, and stamped, al 
 though I did not like the idea of sending my 
 love to Number One, and on our way up 
 town we posted it in a letter-box. We 
 dined at a different restaurant in another part 
 of the City, but did not take a private room, 
 and met a good many people who knew Uncle 
 Tom, and spoke to him. When we came 
 out, and started to return down town, it was 
 quite dark, and as my uncle had not inti 
 mated in any manner what disposition he in 
 tended to make of me, I followed when he 
 walked up a pair of steps leading to a resi- 
 
MRS. BARNABY. 163 
 
 dence in a quiet side street, and entered at 
 the front door after he had unlocked it. 
 There were a number of doors in the hall-way 
 which we entered, and a stair leading to the 
 rooms above, and without making a light he 
 unlocked the door nearest him, and we went 
 into the room which looked out into the 
 street. Here he made a light, and made 
 preparations for spending the night. There 
 were three rooms on that floor, all connected 
 and substantially furnished. The one in front 
 might have been a parlor, or reception-room, 
 or an office, for it partook of the qualities of 
 all three. In the middle one was suspended 
 a shaded lamp over a large square table, and 
 in the back room was a bed, a very large 
 and luxurious one, with a canopy top. 
 
 I noticed all this while Uncle Tom was 
 finding excuses to keep from talking to me, 
 in looking for his slippers and opening the 
 shutters; and when he had found his slippers, 
 he lay down on a lounge with his hands 
 folded behind his head, as I had seen him so 
 
164 A MAN STORY. 
 
 often at Fog Lake. I was seated in ai 
 easy-chair near him, thinking of the strange 
 ness of my position, when there was a knock 
 at the door at which we had entered. Uncle 
 Tom did not move, nor did he when the rap 
 was repeated impatiently. I was thinking he 
 must be asleep, and of asking him if I should 
 open the door, when it was opened from the 
 outside, and a stately, handsome woman came 
 into the room. I was sure it was Mrs. Bar- 
 naby, for I think no other person would have 
 taken the liberty of coming into the room, 
 and, as she stood there looking vexed at 
 Uncle Tom s indifference, I remarked that she 
 was dressed with neatness and taste, in black. 
 There was a marked difference between Mrs. 
 Barnaby and Mrs. Tom. Mrs. Barnaby re 
 minded me of a picture I had seen of justice, 
 for, though her face was handsome, it was 
 hard, and determined, and persistent. That 
 night Mrs. Tom reminded me of a slight 
 figure I had once seen clinging to a cross 
 in a tableau, and which ascended upward out 
 
MRS. BARNABY. 165 
 
 of the angry waves below; whether this meant 
 that Mrs. Tom would cling to her husband 
 as to a cross, and find peace in that course, 
 I did not know. 
 
 " Who is this boy ? " Mrs. Barnaby asked, 
 after looking coldly at me. 
 
 Uncle Tom remained motionless and silent, 
 and, when Mrs. Barnaby made some impatient 
 reference to our lack of politeness, I crouched 
 down in my chair and was silent, too. 
 
 Although I am certain that she remained in 
 the room two hours, she did not once sit 
 down, and, although she talked a great deal, 
 there were times when she did not speak for 
 a painful length of time, and when there was 
 such silence that the ticking of the clock 
 was a relief. During these long silences I made 
 the best of what I had heard to unravel the 
 mystery which surrounded them, and came to 
 the conclusion that she was a proud woman of 
 social position and worth, who was piqued and 
 angry because Uncle Tom neglected her. I 
 believed that, while she did not think much 
 
166 A MAN STORY. 
 
 of Uncle Tom, she was humiliated to know 
 that a woman of her worth should be so 
 coldly treated by any one. I came to the 
 conclusion, also, that she lived in the same 
 house, occupying apartments on another floor, 
 and that she frequently came in to talk to 
 Uncle Tom of, her wrongs. 
 
 At times she denounced him in the severest 
 terms, and accused him of being fickle, capri 
 cious, unreasonable, foolish, and I don t remem 
 ber what else. At other times she asked him 
 questions, as wherein she had ever failed in her 
 duty to him, or why he had utterly refused for 
 years to recognize her existence. But, whether 
 she asked him questions or denounced him, 
 Uncle Tom was equally silent, and paid not 
 the slightest attention to her being in the 
 room. 
 
 She related in language burning with indig 
 nation how anxious he was to become her 
 husband, and the promises he made, and then 
 referred again to his treatment of her. Her 
 principal complaint seemed to be that he 
 
MRS. BARNABY. 167 
 
 would not speak to her, and neglected 
 and avoided her; all her charges seemed to 
 be founded on his neglect. The people had 
 almost forgotten her name, she said, because 
 of his neglect, for everywhere she was known 
 as Mrs. Barnaby; from this I imagined that 
 her name was not Mrs. Barnaby at all. Sev 
 eral times she hit him so hard that I expected 
 him to resent it, or make some explanation 
 for my benefit, but, whatever was in his mind, 
 he said nothing at all. It also occurred to 
 me that it afforded her keen pleasure to hit 
 him hard and at the same time justify herself, 
 for after these strong thrusts she spoke more 
 as a woman should, and after one attack, 
 which was so keen that it made my heart 
 ache for Uncle Tom, she did something to 
 ward putting the room in order; a womanly 
 touch which made me think more of her than 
 before. A dozen times she started to go, and 
 opened the door ; but what she said while 
 holding the door open reminded her of some 
 thing else, so she came back and went on in 
 
168 A MAN STORY. 
 
 the old way ; a way which was pitiful, then 
 fierce, but always womanly, I thought. I had 
 heard only her side of the story, and it was 
 not connected; but it had convinced me that, 
 while she was ready to defend any step she 
 had taken, Uncle Tom had always been stub 
 born, if not unjust, and that he had spent years 
 and years in sullen silence, refusing to answer 
 any of her questions, or explain his silence or 
 neglect. Perhaps he had given his reasons a 
 long time before ; but if he had, they were 
 apparently of so little force that Mrs. Barnaby 
 refused to accept them, for she was always 
 trying to show that they had no foundation. 
 When she came into the room she carried 
 in her hand a package of papers, and late 
 in the night these turned out to be letters 
 Uncle Tom had written her before they were 
 married. These she looked over and read ex 
 tracts from. They did not sound like Uncle 
 Tom s later letters, I thought, because they 
 were written when he was younger, but he 
 did not deny their authorship, or reply in any 
 
MRS. BARNABY. 169 
 
 way ; indeed, there was no question that he 
 had written them, for I remembered that he 
 had quoted several of them at Fog Lake as 
 coming from the ridiculous old Barnaby. 
 
 After reading an extract from the letters 
 Mrs. Barnaby would ask why he had changed 
 his opinion of her, and what she had done to 
 deserve his cruel neglect. I did not doubt 
 that Uncle Tom had written them, but I 
 should have doubted had I heard them read 
 and been told that he had written them 
 to Mrs. Tom ; there was a far-away sound 
 to them, somehow, as though they had been 
 copied out of a book rather than out of a 
 heart. At last she went away, and after a 
 half-hour of silence Uncle Tom arose from the 
 lounge, shook himself as though he had been 
 asleep, and gave me to understand that I was 
 to occupy the bed in the back room. This I 
 did, and he adjusted the pillows, and made it 
 so comfortable that I thought gratefully of my 
 friendly feeling toward him, after hearing how 
 he was despised in another quarter. 
 
170 A MAN STORY. 
 
 The bed was so comfortable that I did not 
 sleep well, and awakened frequently. Once I 
 heard Uncle Tom walking up and down in the 
 front room ; at a still later hour I saw him 
 seated at the big table in the middle room, 
 writing, and there was such a harsh noise in 
 his pen that I thought he must be answering 
 the charges made against him that night. I 
 awoke again, when I detected noises on the 
 outside, indicating that day was near at hand, 
 and supposed that Uncle Tom had gone to 
 sleep without turning out the light; but while 
 I was thinking about it I heard him resume 
 his walk, and knew that he was still up. 
 
OLD BARNABY. 171 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 OLD BAKNABY. 
 
 THERE was one phase of Mrs. Barnaby s 
 character which Uncle Tom seemed to under 
 stand: he believed that she had confidence in 
 him, except in his neglect of her, therefore he 
 was of the opinion that she would concern 
 herself but little because of my presence in 
 
 
 
 the house. Certainly she paid little enough 
 attention to me during the first few weeks I 
 was there, and, on coming out in the morn 
 ing, if I met her in the hall, she either did 
 not notice me, or spoke politely. On the first 
 morning after I was there I found that Uncle 
 Tom had gone away and left me, as I had 
 slept very late, and as I went out at the 
 front door, I met Mrs. Barnaby coming in 
 from the street. In answer to her inquiries I 
 told her my name, and explained that Mr. 
 
172 A MAN STORY. 
 
 Saulsbury was a friend of my father s, and was 
 trying to find a place for me. This seemed 
 to satisfy her, and I imagined from this that 
 during their long estrangement Uncle Tom 
 had conducted himself in such a manner as to 
 win her confidence as far as his personal con 
 duct was concerned, and that she marvelled at 
 little he did except at his silence with her. 
 
 Although I was only at the house at night 
 I learned by degrees, from observation, that 
 the single servant kept by Mrs. Barnaby also 
 looked after Uncle Tom s apartments, and that 
 while Mrs. Barnaby ostensibly lived there, she 
 was away a good deal among friends, but that 
 the servant was always at home, and main 
 tained a kitchen and dining-room on the first 
 floor in the half basement under the room I 
 occupied. Uncle Tom, I learned further, had 
 not eaten in the house in years, taking "his 
 meals up town, and that Mrs. Barnaby was 
 extremely irregular; but the servant always 
 had two plates laid for them, and was as 
 much annoyed when they did not appear 
 
OLD BARNABY. 173 
 
 promptly, as though they had not failed her 
 in months. I was stout and healthy, and as 
 Uncle Tom usually went away in the morning 
 without rousing me, I slept so late that the 
 servant frequently found me in bed when she 
 came to put the rooms in order. I thus be 
 came acquainted with her, and apologized for 
 my laziness by saying that Mr. Saulsbury, who 
 was a friend of my father s, had not yet found 
 a place for me. 
 
 She said one morning that she would get 
 breakfast for me, if I would be so kind as to 
 accept of the favor, and as I supposed that 
 Uncle Tom had made the suggestion, I ac 
 cepted it, and after that I usually breakfasted 
 there, though he had made an arrangement 
 for me at a place where he often took his 
 own meals. The servant, who was called 
 Miss Help, was greatly pleased to find that 
 there was some one in the house she could 
 depend on, and waited on me with the great 
 est attention as I ravenously devoured her 
 breakfasts, which were always good. 
 
174 A MAN STORY. 
 
 Miss Help had a notion that she was rather 
 an unusual cook, and I think I encouraged 
 this idea, for I was a marvellous eater. I 
 once expressed the fear that the elaborate 
 manner in which she provided for me would 
 attract the attention of the head of the house, 
 but Miss Help said no; the head of the 
 house never noticed anything, and paid all 
 bills presented without knowing or caring 
 anything about them. Miss Help knew this, 
 because she drew the money herself at the 
 store, and the clerks knew her so well, and 
 her master s notions concerning her, that when 
 she presented a piece of paper saying, " I 
 want twenty dollars Miss Help," it was 
 promptly paid by the cashier. The same 
 cashier paid Mrs. Barnaby s drafts in the same 
 manner, except that they were drawn on 
 Barnaby & Co., and deposited in a bank where 
 Mrs. B. kept an account. There was enough 
 misunderstanding there, Miss Help said, but 
 none of it concerned money matters. I did 
 not imagine that Miss Help was extravagant, 
 
OLD BARNABT. 175 
 
 except in calling out my poor appreciation, 
 and there was something in Mrs. Barnaby 
 averse to the idea that she threw her money 
 away ; but in any event, after being witness 
 to what Uncle Tom had silently submitted to 
 during my first night under his roof, I could 
 not imagine him complaining of expenses, for 
 his business seemed to earn him plenty of 
 money ; orders came every day almost as nat 
 urally as the morning itself. Still he gave 
 it a great deal of attention. He always left 
 me sleeping in the morning, and usually he 
 worked awhile at the square table in the 
 middle room at night. I formed an impres 
 sion soon after going to the City that Uncle 
 Tom s only recreation was in going to see 
 Mrs. Tom, when he left everything behind, 
 and became a different man. 
 
 Miss Help was a great admirer of Uncle 
 Tom s, I found, but she always seemed ashamed 
 to acknowledge it, as if she thought it a duty 
 to stand by her sex. Although she was al 
 ways trying to be strictly impartial, there 
 
176 A MAN STORY. 
 
 could be no mistaking who was her favorite 
 of the two ; I was only a young fellow, but 
 it occurred to me that Miss Help, who was 
 a very proper person, would have taken a 
 stand for Uncle Tom had she not feared the 
 world, for she had an idea that there might 
 be wise head-shakings, and sighs, which would 
 implicate her. This amused me very much, 
 and I am afraid that I sometimes laughed at 
 her in return for her kindness. 
 
 I usually spent several hours of every day 
 at the store, and learned that Mrs. Barnaby 
 was known by that name by all the em 
 ploye s ; probably for the reason that the founder 
 of the house had been a certain Mr. Barnaby. 
 Uncle Tom was originally the company, but 
 when old Mr. Barnaby died, and the business 
 passed into Uncle Tom s hands as sole owner, 
 he did not change the name of the firm. 
 The employe s knew that their employer s re 
 lations with his wife were not pleasant, so 
 they formed a habit of referring to her as 
 Mrs. Barnaby, which I thought they did with- 
 
OLD BARNABY. Ill 
 
 out any lack of respect. The cashier of the 
 house was a certain Mr. Barnaby, a dignified 
 gentleman of perhaps forty, and as Mrs. Bar 
 naby transacted all her business with him, 
 this may have been another reason why she 
 had lost her own name. Mr. Barnaby was 
 next to Uncle Tom at the store, and dis 
 tantly related to the founder of the house. 
 He was always very polite to me, and if I 
 entered the place when Uncle Tom was out, 
 he saw that my wishes, whatever they might 
 be, were attended to. I believe that had 
 any of the other employe s annoyed me with 
 their curiosity, or otherwise, Mr. Barnaby 
 would have come promptly to my relief, and 
 I therefore had great respect for him. 
 
 While at his business in the City Mr. 
 Tom Saulsbury was as different as possible 
 from Uncle Tom in Fog Lake. I always 
 thought of him as old Barnaby while around 
 the store, starting sometimes when I looked 
 at him to find him so young, for I had had 
 a venerable picture of old Barnaby in my 
 
178 A MAN- STORY. 
 
 mind; but when we were in his rooms, or 
 together on the streets, he became Uncle Tom 
 again, except that the presence of Mrs. Tom 
 was needed to complete the change. While 
 about his business he took no interest in any 
 thing outside of his business affairs, being 
 always attentive and polite, but never encour 
 aging any one to talk of trifles ; at Fog Lake 
 he never talked of his business at all, except 
 to abuse himself as old Barnaby, and nothing 
 amused him so much as trifles. Those with 
 whom he was associated had the greatest re 
 spect for him, and I am certain that none of 
 them entertained dread or fear of him, accept 
 ing his grave way as being a superior way. 
 None of them ever tried to find out who I 
 was, and they only interested themselves in 
 me because I was apparently a friend of Mr. 
 Saulsbury. 
 
 One day Mr. Barnaby handed me a letter 
 addressed in care of " Mr. Tom Saulsbury, 
 with Barnaby & Co." It was from my mother ; 
 and although it expressed much sorrow and 
 
OLD BARNABY. 179 
 
 concern because of my disappearance, I could 
 not conquer the belief that she was really glad 
 I had gone, since Number One had threatened 
 to leave if I did not, so I did not answer it 
 at once. I admit with humiliation now, that 
 I wanted to worry them as much as possible, 
 but my excuse then for not writing was that 
 I might complicate Uncle Tom s matters by a 
 lack of cunning. I still believed in him, and 
 thought that if given time he would explain 
 everything. 
 
 I am of the opinion now that Uncle Tom 
 took me home with him hoping that Mrs. 
 Barnaby would induce me to tell her all about 
 Mrs. Tom, having tired of keeping the story ; 
 but I believed then that he had introduced 
 me there because he had great confidence in 
 me, and I was constantly on my guard. 
 Indeed, I think my care was the cause of the 
 suspicions Mrs. Barnaby finally came to enter 
 tain with reference to me. One day she asked 
 me a few questions concerning my family 
 history, with a view of being friendly, I think, 
 
180 A MAN STORY. 
 
 and I was so studied in. my replies, and hes 
 itated so much, that the circumstance must 
 have set her to thinking, for after that she 
 seemed to have some sort of a plan with 
 reference to me. It was a system of cross-ques 
 tioning, and as she was far more cunning than 
 I was she soon had me hopelessly complicated. 
 She frequently invited me to ride with her, and 
 though I imagined that this was an act of po 
 liteness, I know now that she did it simply for 
 the opportunity it gave her to question me. 
 
 One day, while seated alone in the carriage, 
 Mrs. Barnaby having gone into a store, Bud 
 Footit passed on the sidewalk. He was at first 
 dazed at the luxury of my manner, and as his 
 face was a mass of bruises I hoped Mrs. Bar 
 naby would not see him, for a sight of him 
 would only complicate matters. But he only 
 stopped long enough to tell me that he had 
 been attacked by superior numbers, in Howler 
 alley, and when I reminded him that Uncle Tom 
 had once said that in such an emergency the 
 best thing was to back up against a wall, and 
 
OLD BARNABY. 181 
 
 strike with great caution, he hurried away to 
 act on the idea. 
 
 During the same drive I made a slip and 
 spoke of Mr. Saulsbury as " Uncle Tom " in 
 Mrs. Barnaby s presence, and she asked me 
 why I did it. Feeling that I was in a fix 
 I refused to answer at all, and she did not 
 speak to me again during the drive. After 
 that I refused to go with her, although she 
 was more anxious than ever to question me, 
 and this greatly increased her suspicions, I 
 thought. All this made me very miserable, and 
 I often thought seriously of running away again. 
 
 After I had been in the City two weeks 
 or such a matter Uncle Tom went away one 
 day, and I believed that he had gone to see 
 Mrs. Tom, although I did not know it. That 
 night I retired to his rooms, as usual, and 
 had a notion to lock the door, fearing Mrs. 
 Barnaby would call upon me; but while I was 
 thinking it over she came in. After looking 
 about, and seeing that I was alone, she com 
 menced her questioning again, and was not 
 
182 A MAN STORY. 
 
 long in expressing the opinion that there was 
 a secret between Uncle Tom and me, and that 
 she would find it out. I thought my safest 
 course lay in silence, so I refused to say 
 anything at all, and would have been amused, 
 but for my fright, to remember how very much 
 like Uncle Tom I was acting. I am certain 
 that she sat for an hour without speaking, 
 when I believed she was thinking up a new 
 plan of attack ; and this frightened me so much 
 I wonder I did not bolt out of the house. 
 When she did speak, after a long silence, it 
 was to ask a question more cunning than any 
 she had ever asked me before, and I now 
 understood why her visits to Uncle Tom were 
 so distasteful to him. I had told her that one 
 member of our family was an aunt, and this 
 she never forgot. Was she young or old, or 
 married or single, and a thousand other ques 
 tions like it; and the more he talked about 
 the aunt the more she seemed to hate her. 
 She asked me if I would send a letter of her 
 writing to my aunt. I did not reply, occupying 
 
OLD BARN AST. 183 
 
 myself in remembering that when I had first met 
 Mrs. Barnaby, I had told her I was from a place 
 called Spirit Lake, a name by which our town had 
 once been known. The name had disappeared 
 from the maps, I knew, and so felt there was 
 no danger of her making personal investigation. 
 
 She tried to coax me to agree to answer 
 just one question, and when I would not agree, 
 and she asked it anyway, I saw that to reply 
 would have ruined everything ; so I became 
 more and more impressed with Mrs. Barnaby s 
 cunning, and more and more afraid of her. I 
 felt certain that everything would come out in 
 a little while, she was so much interested, and 
 I thought seriously of writing to Mrs. Tom to 
 hide until I told her the danger was past, I 
 so much dreaded a meeting between them. 
 
 When she finally went away, after sitting a 
 long while without speaking, I thought she had 
 made up her mind to come back during the 
 night, and torture me into a confession; so I 
 carefully locked all the doors before going to 
 bed, and spent a wakeful night. 
 
164 A MAN STORY. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 A LETTER FROM MRS. TOM. 
 
 IT turned out that Uncle Tom had been to 
 Fog Lake during his absence of three or four 
 days, for while he did not say so himself, I 
 received the following letter from Mrs. Tom 
 the day after he reappeared in the store : 
 
 "Your Uncle Tom came home on Friday, 
 and acted so strangely during the two days 
 he remained that I write you to inquire if 
 you know of anything that has happened to 
 him. 
 
 " i Have I offended you ? I asked him. 
 
 " No, he answered ; I never thought so 
 much of you in my life as I do now. 
 
 " Then why are you so changed ? 
 
 " ; I have often taxed your patience, he 
 answered (he really never did tax my patience, 
 
A LETTER FROM MRS. TOM. 185 
 
 not even once), but let me tax it once more. 
 I have often envied the spoilt boy who acted 
 precisely as he felt when out of humor ; let 
 me, therefore, act as I feel for once in my 
 life, and do as I want to, without restraint or 
 question. Everything has gone wrong on the 
 road, and nothing will help me so much as 
 your agreement to let me act as I feel ; 
 nothing will do me so much good as to be 
 with you, and act as I want to, without fear 
 of questions or inferences. I am out of humor 
 because you have done so much that has 
 pleased me, and I have done so little to 
 deserve it. Nothing can cure me so quickly 
 as being with you; and if I appear reserved 
 or cold toward you, we will say it is a plan 
 I have adopted to punish myself. If I should 
 want to walk out of the house in the middle 
 of the night, and take the road again, for this 
 once let me do it; I shall not feel offended 
 if you do not attempt to persuade me from 
 it, although I should ordinarily. If I should 
 feel disposed to mope around all the time I 
 
186 A MAN STORY. 
 
 am at home, and say nothing, for this once 
 let me do it, and do not question me, or draw 
 unfavorable inferences from my odd conduct ; 
 after I have recovered you shall know all 
 about it. I feel that I must carry out the 
 strange humor I am in, and in your presence ; 
 nothing else will do me any good. I feel so 
 wicked because of the bad business that until 
 I recover I cannot trust myself anywhere but 
 with you, and while I am with you I feel 
 my wickedness so much that it seems like 
 profanation for you to touch me. I don t 
 know that you can understand this, but what 
 I have said represents my odd humor, and if 
 you will respect it, you will increase my ad 
 miration for you, and do what is for the 
 best. 
 
 "When we went into our room, he lay 
 down on the bed, and covered his face with 
 his hands, and did not move for a long time ; 
 but he was not asleep, for once when I asked 
 him if it would interfere with his humor should 
 I stroke his hand, he shook his head, and said 
 
A LETTER FROM MRS. TOM. 187 
 
 no. I then asked him if I might hold his 
 head in my lap, on a pillow, which always 
 pleased him, and he answered that I might. 
 So I got the pillow, and he went to sleep in 
 this position, saying that he was tired, and 
 wanted rest, and he did not waken until near 
 twilight. He said he felt very much better 
 when he awoke ; he certainly was less moody, 
 and asked me again to excuse what he called 
 his humor. 
 
 " He excused himself from seeing members of 
 the family whenever it was possible, and after 
 we had retired to our room for the night he 
 said it was another part of his humor that I 
 should rest myself as he had done, and when 
 he arranged the pillow, and I lay down in his 
 arms, he talked to me in problems and rid 
 dles, and told me strange stories, always asking 
 me what I would do under similar circum 
 stances were he and I concerned. I am glad 
 that my answers were always satisfactory, for 
 he said they were, though he added that it did 
 not matter, for the problems, and the riddles, 
 
188 A MAN STORY. 
 
 and the stories were only a part of his 
 humor. 
 
 " Once I awoke, and he was still holding 
 me in his arms. The room was perfectly 
 dark, and when I asked if I was doing all I ) 
 could to help him, he said yes, I could do 
 nothing more ; he had a great deal to think 
 about, and could get through with it better 
 as he was. I asked if I might tell him, very 
 quietly and in as few words as possible, how 
 dear he was to me, and how much I wanted 
 to serve him ; and when he answered that I 
 might, and I told what a good man I thought 
 he was, a tear fell in my face ; my husband 
 was crying from wretchedness, though he tried 
 to keep it from me. I can never tell you 
 how I felt when I thought of this, and though 
 I was anxious not to annoy him he realized 
 that I was sobbing, and said as gently as my 
 mother might have done that I was doing 
 all I could do, and that I always did. But I 
 fear that I have been remiss in my duty 
 somehow; when I realized that our brave 
 
A LETTER FROM MRS. TOM. 189 
 
 Uncle Tom, our kind and merry Uncle Tom, 
 was so unhappy that he was crying, I felt 
 that the charm he always said I exercised over 
 him was broken, and that there was no longer 
 any reason why I should live. 
 
 " When the sun came up, he said he felt 
 better, adding that since his humor had at 
 tacked him, he was afraid of the darkness ; 
 there were phantoms in it that provoked him 
 so much that he wanted to fight them. 
 
 " He lounged in the room all of that day, 
 sleeping in his chair occasionally, but saying 
 little ; and I hoped he was glad to have me 
 near him, for he frequently said that he was 
 tired and worried, but was rapidly becoming 
 rested. 
 
 " That night he went away, his last words 
 being that he hoped I could forgive the 
 strangeness of his humor. 
 
 "If anything has happened I wish you 
 would tell me. I have so much confidence 
 in my husband that I am not worried, except 
 on his account; I am certain that, whatever his 
 
190 A MAN STORY. 
 
 trouble is, it would not worry me. Perhaps 
 if I knew what it was, and could tell him 
 that I cared nothing for it, except that it 
 annoyed him, he would feel better. 
 " Good-by, and be a good boy. 
 " Hurriedly, 
 
 "MBS. TOM." 
 
 I told him of the letter when we were 
 alone together in his rooms, the night after 
 his return, and he asked to see it. He read 
 it over several times, but made no other ref 
 erence to it than to say that the pilgrimage 
 to say his prayers before his shrine had done 
 him good. 
 
 Mrs. Barnaby came in while Uncle Tom was 
 still thinking pleasantly of the letter, and soon 
 began in the old strain. Uncle Tom was sit 
 ting in a chair, and he made no reply to 
 anything Mrs. Barnaby said, although she said 
 a good deal ; but I thought there was some 
 thing in his sullen way of looking at the 
 floor, which indicated that he was becoming 
 
A LETTER FROM MRS. TOM. 191 
 
 impatient. He had received her attacks before 
 with sullen indifference, but on this night* he 
 had a way of glancing about that convinced 
 me that he felt like resenting her assaults on 
 his honor and integrity. 
 
 Mrs. Barnaby had evidently concluded to 
 cross-question Uncle Tom, probably being en 
 couraged by her success with me; but she 
 made poor headway, for he would not reply, 
 although much that she said indicated that 
 her conclusions were very near the truth. 
 I do not believe she thought that Uncle 
 Tom had married again, bat she certainly 
 thought that he was in love with my aunt ; 
 one of her statements was that his actions 
 toward her indicated that he was infatuated 
 with some one whom he was anxious to con 
 vince that he hated his wife. 
 
 Later in the evening he took his hat 
 and went out, and did not return that night; 
 and I thought this action was another indi 
 cation that he was in a bad humor, and 
 feared that if he remained he would defend 
 
192 A MAN STORY. 
 
 himself. Mrs. Barnaby soon followed him, 
 without speaking to me, but she came back 
 in a little while, and had a great deal to 
 say concerning the indignity to which she 
 was being subjected in her own house. In 
 a fit of desperation I said that any wrong 
 I might have done her was innocent, but I 
 regretted saying it at once, for she almost 
 laughed at having caught me. Her manner 
 toward me was her manner toward Uncle 
 Tom, in its subdued fierceness ; and when I 
 tried to remedy what I had said by remark 
 ing that I had never married her, she laughed 
 a kind of hysterical laugh, expressive of con 
 tempt, and as she went out, she referred to 
 me as a silly boy, and hurried to her room, 
 where I could hear her walking about so 
 rapidly and desperately that I was certain 
 our affairs were about to reach a crisis. 
 
A MAN S GRIEVANCE. 193 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 A MAN S GRIEVANCE. 
 
 THE next night when Mrs. Barnaby came 
 into the room, and began in the old strain, 
 Uncle Tom startled me by saying : 
 
 " Why do you say I have never given you 
 an explanation of my conduct? You must 
 know that I have explained it a thousand 
 times ; always humiliating myself and taking 
 the blame from you." 
 
 It was the first time he had ever spoken 
 during her tauntings, and I believe that he 
 did it to excuse himself to me, and through 
 me to Mrs. Tom. Mrs. Barnaby was as 
 much surprised as I was, I thought, for she 
 made no reply. 
 
 " I do not say it to be impudent, or with any 
 lack of respect," he continued, " but it would 
 be monstrous for two people to live together 
 
194 A MAN STORY. 
 
 who hate each other as we do. Did you not 
 cordially hate me you would not lash me as 
 you do ; and, while I never reply, I would 
 not be human did I not hate you for the 
 way in which you punish me. My worst 
 enemy has never said half the bitter things 
 of me that you have said, and yet you won 
 der why I act as I do." 
 
 I thought it was a satisfaction to Mrs. 
 Barnaby that she had induced him to reply 
 at last, for she did not attempt to defend her 
 self; perhaps she believed^ too, that in his 
 excitement he would say something to throw 
 more light on the subject in which she was 
 most interested. 
 
 " There was a time," he continued, " when 
 you never spoke to me of this matter that I 
 did not attempt to explain my position, and 
 although I did it with sincerity and respect, 
 you did not believe a word I said, and ques 
 tioned every statement the next time we met. 
 You never caught me in a falsehood in your 
 life, yet you believe me to be a liar. Can- 
 
A MAN S GRIEVANCE. 195 
 
 not- you understand that it is impossible for 
 me to love a woman who has such a mon 
 strous opinion of me, and with so little reason? 
 I could no more do it than I could cause my 
 arm to grow longer by the exercise of will 
 power. You seldom fail to intimate that I 
 am arranging to wrong you in a business way, 
 and you frequently make inquiries that hu 
 miliate me. You never caught me in a dis 
 honorable action, yet you believe me to be a 
 dishonorable man. Many wives believe their 
 husbands to be truthful and honorable when 
 the world has every reason to doubt that they 
 are ; you accuse me of offences of which the 
 world acquits me." 
 
 " Tom," she said, in a softened tone, which 
 surprised me as much as her calling Uncle 
 Tom by his first name, " I never did that." 
 
 " That is one of the unfortunate things be 
 tween us," he replied. " Upon my honor you 
 have done it many times. Many times I have 
 cited instances, and you have acknowledged 
 them, yet you now say, and I have no doubt 
 
196 A MAN STORY. 
 
 you believe, that you never did. It has been 
 the misfortune of our lives ; we never agreed 
 on anything; we can t even agree to decently 
 disagree. 
 
 "I dislike to dispute with you, but there 
 is really no question that you know why I 
 am not your husband; you must acknowledge 
 this. There is now no more prospect of a 
 reconciliation between us than there is pros 
 pect of winter in summer ; there may have 
 been a time when it was possible, but if you 
 desired a reconciliation you gave me to under 
 stand that you did not ; I mean that you did 
 exactly what made a reconciliation impossible. 
 No woman ever knew a man better than you 
 knew me ; had I confessed my personal weak 
 nesses to you every day of my life you could 
 not know me better than you do, but you 
 did not use this knowledge in a way cal 
 culated to cause me to feel that I was in the 
 wrong or to smooth my resentment. I told 
 you what displeased me, and it was no more 
 than I had a right to do, but you thought I 
 
A MAN S GRIEVANCE. 197 
 
 was so fond of lying that I misrepresented 
 myself, and paid no attention, though I was 
 not unreasonable ; you could have as easily 
 respected my wishes. 
 
 " There never was a trait in my character 
 that I tried to hide that you did not dis 
 cover against my will, and these you have 
 harped upon until I dread to see you. In 
 deed, you harped upon these faults until I 
 cured myself of them, but you never noticed 
 that ; you believe this moment that I have 
 failings which I overcame in my early man 
 hood. Of all the people in the world you 
 are the most unjust to me ; consequently of 
 all the people in the world you are the one 
 I will never love. 
 
 "I have tried so often to live respectably 
 with you, that could you forget your prej 
 udice against me, and realize the honest 
 truth, you would honor me for sincere at 
 tempts to do right ; but the more I tried, 
 the greater the obstacles you placed in the 
 way. I do not believe you did this mali- 
 
198 A MAN STORY. 
 
 ciously, but you had a theory concerning the 
 best way to manage a husband, and it failed. 
 Nothing will ever convince you that I have 
 not avoided you because of a sullen caprice, 
 and a desire to make you wretched; the 
 honest truth is that it causes me as much 
 remorse, regret, and unhappiness as it does 
 you, but, since we can never agree, why give 
 each other cause for more hatred? Every 
 time you have attacked me, although I did 
 not reply, I hated you more than ever after 
 you had gone, and I know that my breaking 
 my long silence now will have a similar ef 
 fect on you. You have said so many dis 
 pleasing things to me that you could not 
 say a pleasing one now; should you attempt 
 it, I should accuse you of deception. 
 
 "For two years, at intervals, you have 
 taunted me with dishonesty and deception 
 because of that divorce proceeding. 1 gave 
 you my word of honor, in writing, that I 
 did not attempt to deceive you ; that I be 
 lieved you received the notice, and did not 
 
A MAN S GRIEVANCE. 199 
 
 care to defend the action, and in addition 
 to this you had absolute proof that what I 
 said was true ; but in the face of this solemn 
 assurance, supported by the circumstance that 
 you never knew me to be dishonorable be 
 fore, you have accused me of perjury and false 
 swearing a hundred times, and you have re 
 viewed the matter with no other intent than 
 to displease and disgrace me. Is this no 
 reason why I avoid you? We should have 
 been divorced, by all considerations of decency, 
 and I did not attempt to take advantage of 
 your property rights. Because we were once 
 married, do you want the courts to declare 
 that I must love you, although constantly 
 giving me reason to hate you? You never 
 speak to me that you do not express the be 
 lief that I am dishonorable, unjust, and unfair; 
 cannot you understand that it is impossible 
 for me to act otherwise than I do ? You 
 treat me like a thief, and expect me to act 
 towards you as a lover. 
 
 "I know that among your acquaintances and 
 
200 A MAN STORT. 
 
 friends there are those who believe you to be 
 in the wrong at times; I know it because 
 they have said as much to me, but they have 
 never said it to you, and they never will, for 
 there is a gallantry due women which the 
 world never forgets. This delicate charity you 
 have mistaken for a vindication of everything 
 you ever did; you will always believe that 
 persons who are really my friends endorse 
 everything you do. No man feels free to be 
 rude to a woman unless the woman is his 
 wife or sister, and I haven t a friend who 
 would care to controvert anything you might 
 say about me ; but there never was a perfect 
 woman, and you are not one; since you will 
 believe nothing I say, it is unfortunate that 
 some one has not pointed out errors in your 
 course which you will one day acknowledge. 
 You have often been heard to say that I am 
 worse this year than last; I will admit that 
 I am, but did any one ever hear you say as much 
 of yourself ? Yet you certainly are ; you have 
 attacked me oftener and with more severity. 
 
A MAN S GRIEVANCE. 201 
 
 I do not intend to be severe or unjust ; I am 
 only justifying myself, and explaining why you 
 harm us both by your references to our un 
 fortunate condition ; it is bad enough as it 
 is. Neither of us can afford to make it 
 worse. 
 
 "You pleased me as a girl, but an hour be 
 fore we were married you commenced your 
 system, and I have been growing steadily 
 worse ever since. I don t know now what 
 your system is. I only know that I do not 
 like it, and that it was the worst thing you 
 could have done. But all this is in the past; 
 then why remind me of the tender things I 
 once said to you? They humiliate me, it is 
 true, but they also make me wicked and 
 hateful, and think less of you. Should you 
 remind an old man of the beauty, and strength, 
 and vigor of his youth, and taunt him because 
 of his age and weakness, you would humiliate 
 him, but by humiliating him you would not 
 cause him to love you. 
 
 " You know as well as you know that you 
 
202 A MAN STORY. 
 
 are living that the divorce proceeding was in 
 spired because of the certainty that we would 
 never live together ; you know that it was not 
 my fault that you did not receive notice of it ; 
 you know I believed you had agreed to it, for 
 there was no reason why you should not, and 
 you have revived the matter simply to humil 
 iate and disgrace me, for I have not attempted 
 to take any advantage of your property rights, 
 and you must know that I will never live 
 with you. You ask what you have done to 
 cause my dread of you ; you have done every 
 thing you should not ; you have tried to make 
 me the fiend you have always believed me to 
 be. Your ambition has been to send me to 
 hell because I preferred heaven, and wanted to 
 live as a decent man should." 
 
 Uncle Tom had worked himself into a sort 
 of desperation, and tried to leave the room, 
 certainly with a view of getting away and 
 avoiding further talk in his bad frame of 
 mind, but Mrs. Barnaby stepped in front of 
 him, and barred the door. 
 
A MAN S GRIEVANCE. 203 
 
 "Who is this boy?" she said, pointing her 
 trembling hand at me. 
 
 " Ask him ; he will tell you," Uncle Tom 
 replied. 
 
 "I have asked him, and in reply he has 
 become confused and refused to speak further. 
 There is a secret between you. What is it? 
 
 "His refusal to speak is not an instruction 
 from me. I left him alone with you, know 
 ing you would question him, for you were 
 always suspicious of me. I made no request 
 that he hide anything he might know of me. 
 Is that not true?" 
 
 He turned toward me, and I nodded my 
 head with as much earnestness as I could 
 command. 
 
 " You may tell her all you know of me," 
 he continued, in his strange, excited manner. 
 "She believes me to be a scoundrel, but I 
 am an honest man. Speak; answer her ques 
 tions." 
 
 I believed this to be an act of bravado, and 
 made up my mind to remain silent. But 
 
204 A MAN STORY. 
 
 Mrs. Barnaby was awed by Uncle Tom s 
 strange excitement, and was silent too. 
 
 "I am not in the habit of telling you of 
 my affairs," he said, after waiting a while, 
 "because you have no interest in them, and 
 because you believe that whatever I say is 
 false; but to avoid your usual inquiries in 
 other quarters, ask me any question you see 
 fit, and I will answer; and I will convince 
 you that my answers are true." 
 
 Mrs. Barnaby saw, as I did, that Uncle 
 Tom was desperate ; she realized, as I did, 
 that there was nothing he would keep back, 
 and hesitated before asking the question often- 
 est in her mind. 
 
 "Who is the member of this boy s fami 
 ly he refers to as Mrs. Tom?" she asked 
 with difficulty, steadying herself against the 
 mantel. 
 
 Without the slightest hesitancy Uncle Tom 
 replied : 
 
 " The dearest and best woman in the world ; 
 the woman I love as sincerely as I hate you; 
 
A MAN S GRIEVANCE. 205 
 
 the woman whose love repays me for all your 
 hate : my honorable wife." 
 
 Mrs. Barnaby started at this announcement, 
 but only a little, and walked steadily over to 
 the door, as if she would leave the room. 
 She stood facing the door for several minutes, 
 trying to control herself, and when she turned 
 upon us again there was an intense hatred in 
 her eyes as well as tears, and shame, and 
 humiliation. 
 
 "If I regard you in the future," she said, 
 " with contempt, hate, and distrust, it is be 
 cause you have deserved it, and confess it to 
 me. I want to see this woman." 
 
 "You shall see her," he replied; "you and 
 I are not in the habit of journeying together, 
 but to-morrow morning at seven o clock we 
 will leave for Fog Lake. I want you to see 
 a woman who is as enthusiastic over me as 
 you are, but whose enthusiasm takes the form 
 of admiration. Prepare yourself for the jour 
 ney; a carriage will call for you at a quarter 
 to seven." 
 
206 A MAN STORY. 
 
 I expected a scene, for they were both 
 wrought up to an intense excitement, but Mrs. 
 Barnaby turned to go at once, and paused 
 with her face to the door. 
 
 "Nothing will satisfy you but a course that 
 will humiliate and disgrace us all," he said, 
 "and I will join you in it. For years I havt 
 urged peace, in spite of hate, but, since this 
 does not suit you, we will make the affair 
 everything you desire." 
 
 Mrs. Barnaby still stood close to the door 
 with her back to us, and I thought from the 
 manner in which she was clutching her hands 
 together that she was making a strong effort 
 to keep from crying; once I saw her quickly 
 and impatiently wipe her eyes, but her agita 
 tion seemed beyond control, for, when it was 
 evident that she could no longer hide it, she 
 hastily left the room, and quickly went up 
 the stairs to her own apartments. 
 
 Uncle Tom soon walked out of the house, 
 and I followed, afraid to remain alone. 
 
 Arriving at the store, he admitted himself at 
 
A MAN S GRTE VANCE. 207 
 
 the door, and went to work at his desk, pre 
 paring instructions to Mr. Barnaby, made neces 
 sary because of his absence. It was after 
 midnight, but when he asked me to go back 
 to his rooms after something he had forgotten, 
 I hurried away, although I dreaded to enter 
 the door. 
 
 The light was burning as we had left it, 
 and on going into the back room after the 
 travelling-bag I had been requested to bring, 
 I saw Mrs. Barnaby lying motionless on the 
 bed. I hurried away, and found Uncle Tom 
 writing rapidly and eagerly, as before. 
 
 I went to sleep in my chair and dreamed 
 that I had married the witch of the Brooper 
 Woods, and that she and her seven daughters 
 were accusing me of unfaithfulness to them. 
 All the phantoms that floated through my dreams 
 were either fiercely angry or pitifully sorrowful, 
 and all those I had ever known in my waking 
 hours were present. When I was awakened 
 by a rough hand, I thought the trouble so dis 
 tinctly outlined in my dreams had commenced, 
 
208 A MAN STORY. 
 
 and that Uncle Tom was about to accuse me 
 of being responsible for it all, for he was 
 standing before me, and shaking me, and 
 although he almost dragged me out at the 
 door, I did not realize until we were in the 
 carriage that the trouble had not yet really 
 commenced, and that we were on the way to 
 Fog Lake. 
 
THE BROOPER WOODS. 209 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE BEOOPEE WOODS. 
 
 MES. BAENABY was already at the station 
 when we arrived there, walking nervously about 
 the platform, and, although she had evidently 
 been waiting for us, she pretended not to 
 notice our arrival, and when we came through 
 the arch of the building from the street, and 
 sat down in the chair car of the train, Mrs. 
 Barnaby soon after followed, seating herself on 
 the side opposite to us, and I saw hard lines 
 in her face which betokened an exciting 
 journey. 
 
 Uncle Tom was impatient and reckless in 
 his manner, too, and somehow I thought of the 
 two as going away to find a quiet place to 
 fight until one or the other was killed. This 
 was suggested, no doubt, by my belief that 
 Uncle Tom would become very vicious should 
 
210 A MAN STORY. 
 
 the slightest indignity be offered to Mrs. Tom, 
 and when I thought of the time when we 
 should arrive in Fog Lake I could not help 
 trembling. 
 
 I went to sleep before the train left the 
 station, because of the hard night I had just 
 passed, and when I awoke we were hurrying 
 through the country. Uncle Tom and Mrs. 
 Barnaby occupied their former positions on 
 opposite sides of the car, and were looking out 
 of the windows ; I watched them a long time 
 in a lazy, indolent, sleepy sort of way, from 
 my position behind them, and it seemed to 
 me that I was accompanying two acquaintances 
 on their way to an execution. When there 
 was a sharp turn in the track over which we 
 were travelling, I could see the engineer lean 
 ing out of the cab, and looking ahead, and I 
 thought of him as the executioner, watching 
 anxiously for the gibbet where he was to stop; 
 and hurrying, to rid himself as soon as possi 
 ble of his disagreeable duty. Uncle Tom and 
 Mrs. Barnaby were so silent and gloomy, and 
 
THE B ROOFER WOODS. 211 
 
 looked out so steadily, that I thought they 
 were looking for the gibbet, too, and were 
 anxious for the ceremony to be over. 
 
 When we stopped for dinner I noticed that 
 Mrs. Barnaby secretly watched Uncle Tom, as 
 though she feared he would try to escape her. 
 He noticed it, too, and I thought of his state 
 ment that she never believed anything he told 
 her, although he always told her the truth. 
 He had proposed the journey, and there was 
 nothing to indicate that he had any notion of 
 deceiving Mrs. Barnaby; but she, nevertheless, 
 followed his movements with the quiet scrutiny 
 that an officer might give a prisoner in his 
 charge, and this increased his impatience and 
 bad humor. 
 
 After the sun went down, and the shadows 
 began to collect in the valleys where the road 
 ran, Mrs. Barnaby watched him more openly, 
 and once followed him into another car, where 
 he went to smoke. This annoyed him so much 
 that I expected him to resent her action, and 
 make a scene ; but he did not, though he 
 
212 A MAN STORY. 
 
 afterwards seemed to take delight in arousing 
 her suspicions, for several times he left the train 
 when it stopped at the stations, and climbed 
 on again at the last moment, Mrs. Barnaby all 
 the time watching him with the closest scrutiny. 
 
 When we reached the little station -within 
 four miles of Fog Lake, where I had taken 
 the train for the City, Uncle Tom stepped off 
 on the platform, without any definite purpose, 
 as I did, and Mrs. Barnaby s frantic haste in 
 following caused him to walk briskly down the 
 road into the Brooper Woods, in a fit of 
 stubbornness and resentment. 
 
 For the first half mile he kept up a swing 
 ing pace which greatly tired Mrs. Barnaby, who 
 walked along directly behind us, but he 
 finally accommodated his pace to hers. The 
 night was dark, and the road through the 
 woods rough, and, after we had walked a mile or 
 more, Mrs. Barnaby gave such evidences of 
 exhaustion that we stopped to give her an 
 opportunity to rest. She was constantly giv 
 ing utterance to her indignation, which tired 
 
THE B ROOFER WOODS. 213 
 
 her still further, and this she kept up when 
 we stopped to rest. He was fickle, cruel, un 
 faithful, and dishonorable, she said ; he was 
 everything that he should not be ; but Uncle 
 Tom made no reply, occupying himself in 
 chewing twigs gathered from the side of the 
 road. Once when he was seated on a log be 
 side the road, and his wife was standing before 
 him upbraiding him in the old fashion, she 
 accused him of thinking of murdering her, 
 although he had really stopped to give her 
 opportunity to rest, and I knew there was 
 nothing on his mind except wonder as to how 
 Mrs. Tom would receive them. I felt that he 
 was going to her for guidance, accompanied 
 by all in his life that was unpleasant, and I 
 believe he felt that Mrs. Tom would say or 
 do something that would comfort him. 
 
 There was a whispering among the upper 
 branches of the great trees bordering the road, 
 and I thought the trees were telling each 
 other of the strange pair walking toward Fog 
 Lake ; but they were not long in suspense, 
 
214 A MAN STORY. 
 
 for Mrs. Barnaby was not silent a moment ; 
 at every step she upbraided her husband. He 
 said very little, and did not attempt to explain 
 his action in leaving the train, or the walk 
 through the woods; but in answer to her 
 statement that she believed he intended to 
 murder her, he said that the thought was not 
 in his mind, though it had occurred to him 
 that if Mrs. Barnaby was his equal in strength 
 he would like to fight her until one or the 
 other was dead. Mrs. Barnaby laughed at 
 this, calling him a coward, and saying that he 
 would not think of it were she his physical 
 equal, fearing the proposition would be accepted. 
 In spite of this bitter speech, Uncle Tom 
 made no further reply than to say he was 
 anxious for Mrs. Barnaby to go to Fog Lake ; 
 he wanted her to see a woman; a woman a 
 man could love and die for ; a woman a 
 man could love and not be ashamed of it. 
 
 Mrs. Barnaby made some contemptuous reply, 
 intimating that Uncle Tom s love for Mrs. 
 Tom was a thing to be laughed at, and that 
 
THE B ROOFER WOODS. 215 
 
 he was not sincere ; that he was never sin 
 cere in his life. Whenever we stopped to 
 rest, Mrs. Barnaby insisted upon standing near 
 him ; whenever we walked on, she insisted 
 upon walking beside him, and Uncle Tom was 
 always cringing and trying to get away from 
 her. 
 
 We finally came to where Joe Tack had 
 his mill, and Uncle Tom and I sat down on 
 a log beside the road to give Mrs. Barnaby 
 another opportunity to rest; but she would 
 not accept of the favor, continuing to up 
 braid her husband for his unfaithfulness and 
 dishonor. When we sat down there was no 
 light in the rude house where Joe lived, but 
 while she was talking, one appeared at the 
 window. When she turned and saw it, the 
 thought seemed to enter her mind that we 
 had stopped at that particular place because 
 we were in front of the house where Mrs. 
 Tom lived, and were afraid to go in, for she 
 turned and walked rapidly toward the light, 
 panting for breath as she went. I followed her 
 
216 A MAN STORY. 
 
 and saw the contemptuous and silent look 
 with which she regarded Joe, who had evi 
 dently been writing a letter, for there was 
 writing material on the table, and as he 
 walked around in astonishment I saw there 
 was ink on his hammer sores. Mrs. Barnaby 
 was convinced by a single look around the 
 house, which was a rude affair, that no 
 woman lived there, and went out again, and 
 while Joe was looking after her, something 
 led my eyes to the writing material on the 
 table. It was of the prize-package variety, 
 and there was no doubt in my mind that 
 when we came in he had been engaged in 
 writing himself a spirit letter from his first 
 wife. It was not a nice thing to do, but 
 I looked at the writing, and saw that it 
 began with " Dear Joe When you gave Her 
 
 a ." I did not see any further, but I 
 
 concluded that Joe had been giving his ugly 
 wufe another present. 
 
 The strange visitor interested Joe so much 
 that he put the letter in his pocket, and 
 
TEE B ROOFER WOODS. 217 
 
 began looking for his hat, and I believed 
 that he would follow; indeed, I think he 
 slipped through the woods behind us, and 
 heard much that was said. 
 
 When I returned to the road, Mrs. Barnaby 
 was reviling the idea that Uncle Tom ever 
 
 o 
 
 loved any one, or could love any one. 
 
 " I love her as much as I hate you," he 
 answered rather roughly ; " you ought to know 
 how sincere I am in hating you. Her con 
 fidence in me is as great as your lack of it, 
 and when you see her you will learn how 
 good husbands are made ; I have tried to 
 deserve her love, as I have tried to deserve 
 your hatred. She has always made me better; 
 you have always made me worse. I never 
 felt so much like a fiend in my life as I 
 do this moment, because of your being in my 
 company. When we come into her presence 
 I want you to tell her everything that you 
 believe or know to my discredit; I shall not 
 say a word, but when you have concluded I 
 shall ask her to come to me, if she does not 
 
218 A MAN STORY. 
 
 believe a word you have said. She will 
 come to me, and be content with no other 
 explanation; but because of her trust in me, 
 I shall prove that everything stated by you 
 is untrue. I shall convince her of it by 
 proofs, that she may know that I deserve 
 the confidence she reposes in me. Much as I 
 want her to trust in me, I shall never per 
 mit her to believe that of me which is not 
 true. You, the worst enemy I have in the 
 world, know that I can disprove everything 
 you ever said to my discredit; I have dis 
 proved it to you, but your hatred for me is 
 so intense that you forget, and repeat charges 
 which only cause me to dread your presence. 
 You are responsible for the feeling which 
 causes me to cross the road when you come 
 near me ; you have had but one ambition in 
 life, since our marriage, and that was to 
 cause me to hate you ; you have succeeded 
 so well that I wonder you are not generous 
 enough to let me alone." 
 
THE B ROOFER WOODS. 219 
 
 Uncle Tom arose from his seat, and started 
 on again, taking off his hat to cool his head. 
 
 "The only proof you have ever given me 
 that you are an honorable man," Mrs. Bar- 
 naby answered, crowding and stumbling after 
 him, "is the fine speeches you make, and you 
 hate me because I do not accept whatever you 
 see fit to say to your credit, although I know 
 what you say is not true. But you shall see 
 that this pretty baby you have deceived will 
 denounce you as I have done ; she will pun 
 ish you as you have punished me. She will 
 avenge me ! " 
 
 "I never boasted before in my life," Uncle 
 Tom said, stepping out of the road when 
 Mrs. B. came toward him, "and you know it, 
 although you are thinking that I am telling 
 a falsehood, but I boast now of the confi 
 dence Mrs. Tom has in me. And because she 
 has confidence in me, I shall make her as 
 happy as I have made you unhappy. She 
 never inspired a feeling in me that was not 
 good. You never inspired a thought in me 
 
220 A MAN STORY. 
 
 that was not disgraceful to my manhood, and 
 you have had your reward; I swear that Mrs. 
 Tom shall have hers. How do you account 
 for ifr that the Tom Saulsbury whom you re 
 gard as a fiend is esteemed by others? Is 
 not this evidence that your estimate of him 
 is wrong ? " 
 
 "No," she answered. "They do not know 
 you as I do; you have deceived them." 
 
 This reply caused Uncle Tom to press on 
 again, to avoid showing his gathering anger, and 
 Mrs. Barnaby hastily followed, as though she 
 feared he would soon bolt off into the woods. 
 
 "You are making this miserable journey 
 with no other object in view than to wound 
 me," he resumed, with more calmness, "for 
 you know that I would sooner kill myself 
 than even try to be agreeable with you ; your 
 whole life has been in the same strain so far 
 as I am concerned, and your last hope is to 
 ruin me, yet you have always been asking 
 why I have ceased to respect you. If I should 
 forgive you, it would be more unnatural than 
 
THE BROOPER WOODS. 221 
 
 that I dread you as I do ; if I stood on the 
 gallows, and a kind word to you would save 
 me, I should not speak. I should prefer 
 going into eternity feeling as I do, for it 
 would not be against me anywhere that I 
 could not respect a woman who has used all 
 the talents God gave her to wound and hurt 
 me. It should be the mission of a. woman to 
 shed tears over the faults of her husband 
 when she can no longer avoid seeing them, 
 and make him better, but because you have 
 taunted me so much, I declare what you 
 should have declared, and it is no more than 
 the truth; I am an honorable man, and a man 
 who believes in doing right, but you have ex 
 aggerated my faults until I wonder I am as 
 good as I am. There is good in me, but you 
 have refused to see it, and studied me only 
 to find that which is bad, and taunt me with 
 it. You regard me as a scoundrel because of 
 an act as natural as though I had eaten when 
 hungry, and given notice to the world that I 
 had paid for my dinner. You wonder why I 
 
222 A MAN STORY. 
 
 lack respect for you, yet you know I could 
 no more respect you than I could respect a 
 man who had a temporary advantage of me, 
 and whipped me without mercy." 
 
 Uncle Tom noticed that Mrs. Barnaby was 
 crying, and that, as she put her hands to her 
 eyes to wipe away her tears, she stumbled and 
 almost fell. She said at once that she was 
 not crying because anything he said was true ; 
 rather because she was cruelly wronged ; but, 
 in spite of this speech, he softened at once. 
 
 " I only tell you why I am lacking in re 
 spect for you because you have so often asked 
 me," he said. " You need not answer me, 
 but decide in your own mind if I am not for 
 this once telling the truth. You have cruelly 
 upbraided me a hundred times when I have 
 remained silent; you have said more and 
 meaner things to me than I ever said to you. 
 Long ago I explained everything to you as 
 kindly as I could, because I felt that I was 
 so unjustly accused that I was entitled to an 
 explanation ; but you never talked to me in 
 
THE B ROOFER WOODS. 223 
 
 the same spirit. You have refused to be as 
 charitable with me as I have been with you. 
 Because you do not please me, you regard 
 me as dishonest, although you know I am re 
 spected by my other acquaintances. I have 
 never accused you of anything save that you 
 make me unhappy, but you accuse me of 
 fickleness and dishonor. Is this not true?" 
 
 She made no answer further than to say that 
 it was another of his fine speeches, and we 
 walked along in silence until the outlines of 
 the towns could be dimly seen. 
 
 There was no pause, but both walked briskly 
 forward, as though both were confident of 
 vindication and comfort at the hands of Mrs. 
 Tom. Indeed, they walked more rapidly when 
 Fog Lake could be seen in indistinct, uncer 
 tain outlines, like the ghost of a town, as 
 though each one was anxious to get there first, 
 and rudely awaken Mrs. Tom from her pleas 
 ant dreams of peace. 
 
224 A MAN STORY. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 AN IDOL LEAVES THE SANCTUARY. 
 
 NOT a word was spoken as we walked 
 rapidly through the town, and when we 
 reached the house we ascended the stairs to 
 gether, the outside door being open. Uncle 
 Tom rapped loudly and confidently on the 
 door, and the summons was answered, after a 
 long delay, by the Boomer, who only showed 
 his head. 
 
 " I want to see Mrs. Tom," Uncle Tom 
 said simply, but there was that in his voice 
 which convinced me that he believed that he 
 would soon be vindicated; he acted like a man 
 who regarded his cause so just that no fair 
 person could doubt after hearing his explana 
 tion. 
 
 " And I want to see her," Mrs. Barnaby 
 said, crowding forward. " I am this gentleman s 
 
AN IDOL LEAVES THE SANCTUARY. 225 
 
 wife, and I want to see the person who divides 
 the questionable honor with me." 
 
 The Boomer disappeared, muttering his sur 
 prise at seeing us, but leaving the door open, 
 and we went into the front room, and sat 
 down, after making a light. I saw by the 
 clock then that it was two o clock in the 
 morning, and from various sounds about the 
 house I knew the members of the family 
 were getting up. My mother first appeared, 
 and after greeting me somewhat awkwardly, 
 she looked inquiringly at Uncle Tom, and 
 then at Mrs. Barnaby. 
 
 "I want to see Mrs. Tom," he said again. 
 "Will you be good enough to inform har 
 that I am here?" 
 
 "Also be kind enough to inform her that 
 I am here," Mrs. Barnaby said. " I am his 
 wife ; say to this person he refers to as 
 Mrs. Tom, that Mr. Tom is a dishonorable 
 man, and that I am here to prove it." 
 
 Uncle Tom looked at Mrs. Barnaby with 
 the quick fierceness which distinguishes an 
 
226 A MAN STORY. 
 
 animal the instant before it springs ; but he 
 soon recovered himself, and did not speak. 
 My mother left the room in the greatest 
 agitation, and Number One soon came into 
 the room, and sat down, imagining, I have 
 no doubt, that there was an emergency, and 
 that he was needed, though I think his first 
 impression was that I had been brought home 
 under arrest, and that it was his duty to go 
 in and testify to my former bad character. 
 
 I saw Number Two at the half-open door, 
 looking timidly at Mrs. Barnaby, and felt 
 that Uncle Tom would invite him in, should 
 he see him; but either he had lost his old 
 politeness, or did not see Number Two, for 
 he did not change his position. 
 
 There was a painfully long delay, during 
 which I could hear my mother occasionally 
 walking hurriedly about, and once I thought 
 I heard a pitiful sob, when it occurred to 
 me that Mrs. Tom had fainted on receipt of 
 the news, and that my mother s hurrying had 
 been after restoratives. At last my mother 
 
AN IDOL LEAVES THE SANCTUARY. 227 
 
 came back into the room, and sat down, 
 looking more uncomfortable than I had ever 
 seen her before, and in answer to Uncle 
 Tom s look of inquiry, she said, " She refuses 
 to see you." 
 
 Uncle Tom gave a start which might have 
 excited pity from Mrs. Barnaby, much as she 
 hated him, but it did not, for she laughed 
 in a loud, triumphant way, and said to him, 
 in a voice so wicked that it surprised me : 
 
 " Who was the better prophet ? You said 
 other people had confidence in you, and that 
 I wronged you because I had none." 
 
 She spoke in a rapid, greedy, half-hysteri 
 cal way, and acted as though she would go 
 over to Uncle Tom, and make him look at 
 the joy with which she greeted his humilia 
 tion; but she did not (it would have been 
 dangerous, I think), though she continued to 
 gloat over his downfall. 
 
 " You have always upbraided me because I 
 did not accept your fine speeches without a 
 doubt. I have investigated one of them, and 
 
228 A MAN STORY. 
 
 I find you were wrong. Even though you 
 believed all you said in your favor, I am 
 now certain that they had as little foundation 
 as your boast that Mrs. Tom would believe 
 nothing I said, but would have confidence in 
 you in spite of my accusations." 
 
 The manner in which Uncle Tom bowed his 
 head on the table was pitiful, and I believed 
 he was struggling to keep from sobbing. He 
 did not seem to hear anything that Mrs. Bar- 
 naby was saying; the refusal of Mrs. Tom to 
 see him evidently occupied his mind, and it 
 hurt him so much that his face wore the ex 
 pression of a man about to be hanged, with 
 out a pitying face in the crowd. When he 
 raised his face again, and turned toward my 
 mother, he looked as though he had been 
 whipped and beaten by superior numbers, and 
 could not be revenged, though I noticed that 
 the old fierce look came back for an instant 
 when he saw the " joy of Mrs. Barnaby. 
 
 "I wish you would say to Mrs. Tom once 
 more," he said in a trembling voice, "that I am 
 
AN IDOL LEAVES THE SANCTUARY. 229 
 
 in trouble, and wish to see her. I have some 
 thing important to say, and she should hear 
 it. It is of the greatest importance that I 
 see her." 
 
 My mother went out again, followed by her 
 father, and while we were waiting Number 
 Two came softly into the room. Approaching 
 Uncle Tom, he gently stroked the hand which 
 was lying outstretched on the table, his face 
 being buried in the other. Number Two 
 seemed to have confidence in Uncle Tom, 
 without question, as I had, and his action was 
 so gentle that Uncle Tom looked up quickly, 
 thinking it was Mrs. Tom; but at this moment 
 my mother came in shaking her head. 
 
 " You have accused me of a lack of confi 
 dence in you," Mrs. Barnaby said triumphantly, 
 as Uncle Tom crouched down in his chair, 
 " and felt bitterly toward me because you 
 were right when you were wrong. How you 
 have abused me in your thoughts because I 
 did not believe in you as Mrs. Tom did! 
 How comforted you were to imagine that you 
 
230 A MAN STORY. 
 
 had found some one at last to call your black 
 birds doves ! Every theory you ever had 
 concerning me, and they have all been unfavor 
 able, was based on the idea that I was unjust 
 because I was honest ; that I was unwomanly 
 because I had too much intelligence to believe 
 in you when you did not deserve it. 
 
 "You wanted me to have the blind faith in 
 you that you believed this injured girl had, 
 and now that you know that she had none in 
 you, perhaps you will be more charitable with 
 me." 
 
 Mrs. Barnaby seemed anxious to convince 
 Uncle Tom that she did not deserve the con 
 tempt with which he had always treated her. 
 She reviewed their life as I had heard her 
 do before, in the City, and although she 
 claimed that she was always right, arid Uncle 
 Tom always wrong, there was a persuasive 
 gentleness in her voice I had never noticed 
 before. I thought she believed that in his 
 humiliation he would acknowledge everything 
 she said, and become her willing slave in 
 
AN IDOL LEAVES THE SANCTUARY. 231 
 
 future. I almost believed this, too, he seemed 
 so changed; and as she talked, softening more 
 and more, I watched the door, for I thought 
 that Mrs. Tom might change her mind, and 
 come into the room. But Uncle Tom evi 
 dently did not hear anything Mrs. Barnaby 
 was saying: he was thinking of his broken 
 idol, and of his future without it, for finally 
 he said : 
 
 "If I will agree to leave the City, and 
 everything I have there, will you be satisfied? 
 You may be sure I .will never come back 
 here." 
 
 There was as much bitterness in his voice 
 when he said he would never come back to 
 Fog Lake as I had noticed when hearing him 
 express his hatred of Mrs. Barnaby; so much, 
 indeed, that I was glad Mrs. Tom had not 
 heard it, and could never be told of it; there 
 was something in it that no one could de 
 scribe. 
 
 Mrs. Barnaby was surprised at the cold, in 
 different manner in which he said this, as if 
 
232 A MAN STORY. 
 
 she had been expecting a different answer, and 
 she could only murmur that she did not want 
 him to leave the City, or his interests there ; 
 that she wanted nothing of him that was not 
 fair. 
 
 " But I intend to leave the City, whether it 
 pleases you or not. Will that satisfy you?" 
 
 Her old spirit returned because of his sullen 
 indifference to her apparent fairness, and she 
 answered yes, she would be satisfied. 
 
 Writing materials were at once procured at 
 his suggestion, and Uncle Tom hurriedly wrote 
 a fe\v lines, and signed his name to them. 
 After Mrs. Barnaby had examined the writing, 
 and approved it, she asked two of the others 
 to sign it as witnesses, which they did, and, 
 as she placed the paper in her pocket, Uncle 
 Tom arose unsteadily from his chair, and 
 walked out of the room; after saying to my 
 mother that she felt more kindly toward Mrs. 
 Tom because, of her honorable course, Mrs. 
 Barnaby came down the stairs, and walked a 
 few paces behind us, for I had accompanied 
 
AN IDOL LEAVES THE SANCTUARY. 233 
 
 him. On our way to the depot, for a train 
 was due within an hour, Uncle Tom explained 
 that he desired that I accompany Mrs. Bar- 
 naby back to the City, and that he would pay 
 my expenses. 
 
 Arriving at the depot, which was dark, we 
 walked, around on the platform, Mrs. Barnaby 
 in one way and Uncle Tom in another. Not 
 a word was spoken until the agent arrived, 
 and made a light, and when this was done, 
 Uncle Tom purchased two tickets for the 
 City, which he gave to me. He also gave me 
 a sum of money to pay for my return, and 
 other expenses, and I noticed . that when this 
 was done there was little left in his purse. 
 
 Soon after, the train came in, and Uncle 
 Tom and I went into one of the cars. Mrs. 
 Barnaby followed, and it was not long before 
 Fog Lake was left behind. 
 
 Uncle Tom soon went forward into the 
 smoking-car, and when I went to look for 
 him he was gone. An intense loneliness came 
 over me when I realized that he had left me 
 
234 A MAN STORY. 
 
 without even saying good-by, and I tried to re 
 member the places where we had stopped. One 
 was at a water-tank in the woods, and I be 
 lieve he had left the train there, and walked 
 out into the darkness; anywhere to be rid of 
 Mrs. Barnaby and a relative of Mrs. Tom s. 
 
 In returning from my search through the 
 train I passed Mrs. Barnaby, and when she 
 spoke to me I told her that Uncle Tom had 
 left the train at a lonely water-station in the 
 Brooper Woods, where there was not even a 
 house. 
 
 She did not reply, but looked out of the 
 window so long that I went back to an 
 empty seat, and sat down to think of Uncle 
 Tom stumbling along through the woods, 
 cursing Mrs. Barnaby and everything in the 
 world except Mrs. Tom. Somehow I believed 
 that he could not curse her, and I had a 
 picture in my mind of Uncle Tom stumbling 
 into a brook in his mad run through the 
 woods, and of his climbing out to sit on the 
 bank, and bathe his swollen eyes. 
 
AN IDOL LEAVES THE SANCTUARY. 235 
 
 After a while a train- man touched my arm, 
 and said the lady forward wished to see me. 
 I went over to where she was, and sat down 
 by Mrs. Barnaby s side. 
 
 "Are you fond of your Uncle Tom?" she 
 asked. 
 
 "Yes," I answered, at once. 
 
 This did not seem to surprise her, though 
 she thought about it awhile. 
 
 " I believe I should like him, were he not 
 my husband, though he is the most stubborn 
 man that ever lived. You heard him say 
 to-night that he would never go back to 
 Fog Lake, and you may not have believed 
 it, but he never will. If Mrs. Tom should 
 hunt him out, and ask him on her knees to 
 forgive her, he would refuse to even speak 
 to her. Much as he has wronged me, I 
 will be revenged, for he will always wildly 
 love Mrs. Tom, though he will never forgive 
 her. If she should find him, in spite of his 
 hiding, every day of her life, and ask him 
 to forget, he would no more do it than he 
 
236 A MAN STORY. 
 
 would love me. There never was such a 
 stubborn man; I believe he will love Mrs. 
 Tom to his dying day, but I am certain 
 that if she should appear at his death-bed, 
 he would refuse to look at her. . No one 
 knows so well as I do how stubborn he is; 
 Mrs. Tom may have known more of his 
 inner nature than I ever did, but she has 
 never had occasion to know of his stubborn 
 ness, though she will now have opportunity 
 to find out." 
 
 When she looked out of the window again, 
 I would have given a great deal to have 
 known what was in her mind, and to have 
 known that she felt something of tenderness 
 for Uncle Tom, for I could not think of 
 his humiliation because of Mrs. Tom s refusal 
 to see him without a moist feeling in my 
 eyes ; he had been so fond of her, and he 
 had been so bold in going with Mrs. Barnaby 
 to see her, that I thought she had made a 
 mistake in refusing to see him. A man as 
 bold and defiant as he was in front of Mrs. 
 
AN IDOL LEAVES THE SANCTUARY. 237 
 
 Tom s home must have had a good defence, 
 and as I thought of him in the woods that 
 night, bruising himself as he staggered on, I 
 believed his boldness had left him, and that 
 he was lying flat on his face in the under 
 brush, where he had stumbled and fallen, and 
 that he was sobbing out his grief where no 
 one could hear, oblivious of all his bleeding 
 wounds save the fearful rent in his heart. 
 
 " Had he loved me as he did Mrs. Tom," 
 Mrs. Barnaby said again, "I don t believe 
 I should have given him up so easily. Of 
 course it was right that she should, but a 
 man who hated as he did must have loved 
 intensely ; it seems to me now in my loneli 
 ness, and in the recollection of all my un- 
 happiness because of neglect, that his strong 
 love for Mrs. Tom, and his blind confidence, 
 would have been wonderfully agreeable. I never 
 had it; I never could have had it, for it was 
 not in me to inspire it; but if I ever hated 
 him, it was because he stubbornly refused to 
 love me as I know he did Mrs. Tom. If I 
 
238 A MAN STORY. 
 
 ever meet him again I shall say that, had he 
 made me his shrine, he should have had a 
 better return for it, and I should not say it 
 to taunt him. If I could see him now, I 
 would say I am sorry; I have lost some 
 thing I never had, but he has lost that 
 which he greatly enjoyed, because of his cer 
 tainty that he possessed it, and to do with 
 out it will make him as wretched as the 
 damned." 
 
 Day was breaking, and driving the phan 
 toms out of the woods, but in my mind 
 there was one that would not be driven out: 
 a man without a hat, and with dishevelled 
 hair and torn clothing, stumbling and falling 
 over stones and prostrate trees; a man with 
 bruises on his face, and lacerated limbs, try 
 ing to get away; anywhere, to be rid of all 
 there was in his life worth remembering; a 
 strong man trembling with weakness and fright, 
 because his idol had said to him, " Begone ! " 
 when he had expected strength and comfort. 
 
THE RETURN TO FOG LAKE. 239 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE RETURN TO FOG LAKE. 
 
 I RETURNED to Fog Lake the third day 
 after my departure, having left Mrs. Barnaby 
 at her own door in the City, where she 
 bowed stiffly, and retired without inviting me 
 in. Her old spirit of resentment had returned 
 during the latter part of the journey, and she 
 said but little to me, and none of it concerned 
 Uncle Tom. 
 
 It happened that I arrived on the evening 
 train, and came upon them at home after the 
 lamp had been lighted, and they were all 
 seated together in the front room. My eyes 
 at first sought Mrs. Tom, who was seated on 
 a low stool engaged with some sort of work, 
 and trying to bear up bravely, though she was 
 succeeding but poorly. Mrs. Tom had been 
 quite ill, I learned, and unable to leave her 
 
240 A MAN STOR7. 
 
 room for two days, but that morning she had 
 come downstairs, determined to make the 
 best of it, as they all advised her to do. I 
 knew at a glance that she regretted not see 
 ing her husband when he asked for her, and that 
 she thought as much of him as she ever did ; 
 unhappily, there was no mistaking this, and I 
 felt that there could be no more content in 
 that house so long as Mrs. Tom looked as 
 helplessly mournful as she did. 
 
 Evidently the others had agreed not to refer 
 to the subject, for Joe Tack and his wife were 
 present, and they were talking of their affairs 
 when I came in, and the conversation con 
 cerning the Tacks was resumed as soon as I 
 had seated myself. I expected them to make 
 inquiries about the other parties concerned in 
 the only sensation Fog Lake had ever known; 
 but they did not, and acted as though as little 
 as possible should be said on the subject, for 
 I think they all believed in Mrs. Barnaby. 
 Indeed, they were talking of general matters 
 with a view of diverting Mrs. Tom s mind 
 
THE RETURN TO FOG LAKE. 241 
 
 from her sorrow; as though she could forget 
 her husband in hearing of Mrs. Joe Tack. 
 
 Mrs. Tack had greatly increased in ugliness 
 since I had last seen her, and Mr. Tack s 
 devotion had become more noticeable, too, for 
 he had one arm around her, and held in his 
 other hand the letter I had seen on his table 
 at the house in the woods, and which he had 
 undoubtedly written himself. Knowing this as 
 I did, I wondered at his impatience because 
 more attention was not given it, for when 
 anything else was mentioned he looked as 
 though he could not understand why a spirit 
 letter did not cause those present to tremble, 
 and keep close together. 
 
 From the conversation that annoyed him I 
 judged that Mrs. Footit had just gone away, 
 and that she had given the Boomer to under 
 stand that he must take back the bonds he 
 had sold Footit, and return the money. The 
 Boomer was of the opinion that in a civilized 
 country a trade was a trade, and my mother 
 thought so, too, and they all seemed to think 
 
242 A MAN- STORY. 
 
 that Mrs. Footit had acted in an outrageous 
 manner, from which I imagined that in her 
 conversation with the Boomer she had left the 
 bark on her words. She was always threat 
 ening to give people the word with the bark 
 on, and it seemed that the Boomer had been 
 caught at last, for he had forgotten his schemes 
 and was quite nervous. I had often been at 
 home when Mrs. Footit came stalking in look 
 ing for the Boomer, to demand that he take 
 back the bonds in the violin factory he had 
 sold her husband, and I was always so much 
 interested that I could not help wondering 
 what had happened when she finally caught 
 him. 
 
 But I was full of the Uncle Tom episode, 
 and when I tired of their talk, and intimated 
 a desire to see Mrs. Tom alone, I was told 
 by Number One, who seemed to be managing 
 the affair, that the name of Thos. Saulsbury. 
 had been forgotten in that house, for the reason 
 that to mention it only distressed his innocent 
 victim. Number Two had been wanting to ask 
 
THE RETURN TO FOG LAKE. 243 
 
 all the evening about Uncle Tom, and this re 
 mark from his enemy caused him to bristle up. 
 
 "I haven t forgotten him," he said. "I 
 think he was in the right. He was my friend, 
 and I stand by him. His name has not been 
 forgotten in this house; it was Tom Saulsbury 
 of the Sixty-fourth. I remember it; I shall 
 always remember it." 
 
 Number Two was greatly excited, but Num 
 ber One paid not the slightest attention to 
 him; indeed, he soon afterwards said that the 
 silence of all those present convinced him that 
 the name of a man we had once known and 
 esteemed had been forgotten, because he had 
 been condemned for a grave offence. 
 
 This remarkable piece of impudence caused 
 Number Two to become so excited that he 
 took a chew of tobacco in the presence of all 
 of them, a thing he had never dared to do 
 before, and I believe this circumstance pre 
 vented a fight, for, as he was afraid to spit 
 in the house, he was compelled to go outside 
 for that purpose, where he cooled off. I was 
 
244 A MAN STORY. 
 
 as angry as Number Two, I think; so I went 
 to my room in a bad humor, and forgot the 
 matter myself until I was awakened in the 
 night by Mrs. Tom, who had crept into my 
 room to secretly talk of our friend. 
 
 I was anxious to comfort her ; so I told her 
 how certain I was that Uncle Tom was in 
 the right, and dwelt on the things he had 
 said which indicated that he -was desperately 
 fond of her. I related how he had proposed 
 to bring Mrs. Barnaby to Fog Lake, as a man 
 might do who was in the right ; how he had 
 told Mrs. Barnaby of the woman he loved, and 
 much more in the same strain ; but it was 
 unfortunate that I did, for it distressed Mrs. 
 Tom so much that she sobbed quite pitifully 
 for a long time. 
 
 During the time they had lived together 
 Uncle Tom had given Mrs. Tom considerable 
 amounts of money every time he came home, 
 which he said represented his savings, and 
 which he wanted her to " keep " for him. 
 This money had been invested at a good rate 
 
THE RETURN TO FOG LAKE. 245 
 
 of interest, and Mrs. Tom thought of her 
 fortune only to imagine that her husband was 
 wandering around in destitute circumstances, 
 and in need of aid, for I had told her of his 
 light purse after buying the tickets, and of 
 his disappearance soon after the train started. 
 I knew that he would have no trouble in 
 providing for himself, wherever he went; but 
 Mrs. Tom was not so confident, and worried 
 a great deal over the thought that Uncle Tom 
 might need some of the money he had given 
 her with such a liberal hand. I think the 
 amount was four or five thousand dollars, and 
 it seemed a great fortune to Mrs. Tom, who 
 also mentioned that Uncle Tom had said he 
 had never been able to save money until he 
 was married. Then I told her of the great 
 house of which he had been the head, and 
 how certain I was that the trouble arose be 
 cause of a complication in his divorce pro 
 ceedings with Mrs. Barnaby; but it all 
 distressed her so much that I finally refused 
 to say any more, as I had done with Mrs. 
 
246 A MAN STORY. 
 
 Barnaby, though for a different reason, and 
 she finally went away, first saying that if she 
 could get down on her knees before Uncle 
 Tom, and tell him why she did not see him 
 when he asked for her, she would be better 
 satisfied. Her explanation to me of her failure 
 to see him was hurried and unsatisfactory, but 
 I gathered in a general way that she had 
 been so stupefied on hearing of his trouble 
 that she could not move, and, while expecting 
 him to come to her, she was told that he 
 was gone. 
 
 There was a certain timidity about her grief 
 which affected me strangely. She took all the 
 blame on herself, and never once intimated 
 that Uncle Tom was in any way in the 
 wrong; he had done nothing that was unusual 
 or out of the way, and she had acted in a 
 fashion that was monstrous, considering all his 
 kindness to her. This was her way of talking 
 about it, and it made me think that it would 
 immensely please Uncle Tom, and of his say- 
 
THE RETURN TO FOG LAKE. 247 
 
 ing once that when any one had confidence 
 in him, he always tried to deserve it. 
 
 I think there was general regret at home 
 because I had returned, for, since we never 
 heard from him, I talked to Mrs. Tom of her 
 husband in spite of their commands, and I 
 thought it would soon be necessary for me to 
 run away again. I felt myself that I was 
 only doing Mrs. Tom harm by talking of her 
 husband, and when I was with her I excused 
 my conduct by thinking that I would not be 
 there long, and that she really ought to know 
 the truth in a case in which she was so much 
 interested, and have something pleasant to 
 think of while I was away. 
 
 We walked a great deal along the wooded 
 road Uncle Tom and I had travelled with 
 Mrs. Barnaby on the fatal night, usually after 
 nightfall, for Mrs. Tom seemed to imagine that 
 her husband was in hiding in the woods, or 
 that, if he had. made way with himself, his 
 ghost was still walking the road, defending 
 
248 A MAN STORY. 
 
 himself from an imaginary Mrs. Barnaby, and 
 cringing from her; I thought it possible myself 
 that even his ghost would dread the living 
 Mrs. Barnaby. I think she would have gone 
 alone had I not cared to become her escort, 
 for she seemed only to desire my presence to 
 point out the places where Uncle Tom had 
 waited while Mrs. Barnaby rested, and to re 
 late what he had said. 
 
 She was quite certain for a time after his 
 disappearance that Uncle Tom was dead, hav 
 ing made way with himself as a result of her 
 cruel humiliation of him, and once she told 
 me that she walked the road in the hope of 
 meeting his ghost. She believed that it would 
 walk through the woods, and she hoped to 
 tell the phantom what she regretted she did 
 not tell Uncle Tom; that she loved him, and 
 trusted him, and could not live without him. 
 At other times she thought it possible she 
 might meet him in his own proper person; 
 that he would come back to the woods at 
 
THE RETURN TO FOG LAKE. 249 
 
 night on his way to Fog Lake, and she hoped 
 to meet him and tell him her story. 
 
 I remembered the very spot where Uncle 
 Tom had said that when Mrs. Barnaby saw 
 Mrs. Tom, she would see a woman a man 
 could love ; a woman who would make a bad 
 man good by believing in him, and I pointed 
 this out. Uncle Tom had stood there, leaning 
 against a tree; Mrs. Barnaby, here, refusing to 
 rest, but tiring herself out in declaring to me, 
 as I stood in the road, just where I did then, 
 that Uncle Tom was unscrupulous; that he 
 would find out that no one would trust him, 
 and that he would see when they reached the 
 house. I told her with what contemptuous 
 silence Uncle Tom had received this reflection 
 on Mrs. Tom, and how he moved on, and 
 how Mrs. Barnaby had followed, declaring that 
 his baby-faced wife should know the truth, 
 and that she would turn from him in loath 
 ing ; she knew it he would see for himself. 
 
 Then I told how Uncle Tom had boasted 
 of Mrs. Tom s confidence in him ; he had 
 
250 A MAN STORY. 
 
 never boasted before, but he did then, and 
 said that Mrs. Tom would come to him, 
 in spite of all that Mrs. Barnaby might say, 
 and that because of her confidence in him he 
 would convince her with actual proofs that all 
 Mrs. Barnaby said was untrue ; and much 
 more of the same nature I repeated, until 
 Mrs. Tom imploringly begged me to stop. 
 
 "I can only remember one thing he ever 
 said," Mrs. Tom moaned, "that I am inclined 
 to doubt: that love never kills. I think it 
 will iii my case- Don t tell me any more 
 to-night." 
 
 Our walks frequently led us into the heart 
 of the woods, and when Mrs. Tom heard a 
 noise, she would stop, and listen, and call out, 
 " Tom, Tom, Tom," with long stops between 
 the words, bursting into sobs with the last 
 word on her lips. This once caused me to 
 think that it would be better for her could 
 she feel resentment, but when I told her of 
 it she said that her husband had always been 
 so thoughtful and kind that she could not feel 
 
THE RETURN TO FOG LAKE. 251 
 
 harshly toward him ; she was certain that he 
 did not deserve reproach, and, even if he did, 
 she could not upbraid him when she thought 
 of his sorrowful wanderings ; a homeless out 
 cast, yet she knew so well that he was a 
 good man, and a tender man. 
 
 She called "Tom, Tom, Tom," so often in 
 the woods, and always so pitifully, that I 
 came to think that the winds would take up 
 the words, and carry them away; perhaps in 
 their wanderings they would find him, and I 
 was sure he could not resist the appeal, for I 
 had never heard anything more touching. 
 
 When we returned home one night, aTter a 
 walk in the woods, we learned that Number 
 Two had gone on another bender, and was 
 making a tremendous noise in his room in the 
 attic. The Boomer was away from home, 
 as was usual with him, and when it was sug 
 gested that I speak to the old gentleman, and 
 try to pacify him, I walked up to his door, 
 and knocked; but he paid no attention, fur 
 ther than to say that he was practising with 
 
252 A MAN STORY. 
 
 his musket, and that the figure on the door, 
 at which he intended to shoot, represented a 
 certain Devil and Copperhead. I retired rather 
 hurriedly, for I was standing behind the door; 
 but as there was no shooting, I returned after 
 a time and listened. 
 
 Number Two was telling his comrades that 
 Tom Saulsbury, late of the Sixty-fourth Regi 
 ment, and as good a fellow as ever lived, had 
 been chased away by the Rebel-Copperhead- 
 Devil, and that if they were true comrades 
 they would resent the insult. Number Two 
 talked quite prettily for a while of Uncle 
 Tom and his wife, who had always been so 
 good to him; but his fierceness soon returned, 
 and I saw by looking through the keyhole 
 that he had on the little cap with the brass 
 letter and figure in front, and his blue coat, 
 which had stripes on the sleeves ; that he was 
 on his feet, with his knapsack on his back, 
 his canteen hanging at his side, and his mus 
 ket on his shoulder, as soldiers carry them 
 while on duty ; in short, he was ready to 
 
THE RETURN TO FOG LAKE. 253 
 
 march on the enemy. Indeed, while I was 
 looking he commenced moving his feet to get 
 the step, and finally marched directly toward 
 the door, which caused me to retreat in dis 
 order. But just as he reached the door he 
 gave a sharp command, and marched the other 
 way in such haste that his cap fell off. I 
 heard him expostulating with Captain Water- 
 bury afterwards for giving the command to 
 retreat, and grandfather quite gravely said that 
 while there was something in caution, there 
 was a good deal more in prompt attack. 
 
 Although we hoped that the noisy town 
 omnibus would rattle up to the door during 
 the night, and that grandfather would return 
 from his reunion, nothing of the kind occurred, 
 and we knew the exercises would continue the 
 next day. 
 
254 A MAN STORY. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 A MESSAGE AND A MYSTERY. 
 
 I HAVE said we never heard from Uncle 
 Tom ; we never did, but there came to the 
 house one day a letter that was unquestion 
 ably written by him. There was no date of 
 any kind, and the postmark could not be 
 made out, either as to the town or State from 
 which it came, and the letter was not ad 
 dressed to any one ; it might have been a 
 message from the grave, intended for the 
 world. 
 
 The envelope was directed to me, and the 
 letter ran as follows : 
 
 "If a little red man should come up through 
 the table on which I write, and say that he 
 would grant me any single wish, I should ask 
 for the Mrs. Tom I have lost; it seems to me 
 that I have no ill that a sight of her would 
 
A MESSAGE AND A MYSTERY. 255 
 
 not cure. She has disappeared out of the 
 world completely, and I think she must be in 
 heaven; if I ever dreamed of heaven at all, 
 it was of finding some one there who was as 
 pretty, as patient, and as trusting as was the 
 sweetheart I have lost. She was the dearest 
 woman in the world; but I cannot find her, 
 and I am sure that I shall never see her 
 again. 
 
 " Although I do not know where she is, I 
 remember perfectly her pretty face, her gentle 
 voice, and her soft touch, and I feel that she 
 is not living any more, because I believe I 
 could not be as wretched as I am were she 
 alive. While I would attempt any journey to 
 find her, and think nothing of the dusty way 
 I might be compelled to travel (for I should 
 feel amply repaid for any toil with a single 
 smile from her face), I make no journeys or 
 searches, I am so confident that she has for 
 ever disappeared. She is lost, never to be 
 found. 
 
 "No one but me knows the pretty things 
 
256 A MAN STORY, 
 
 she has said to me, and I should almost be 
 content with her memory had I not dreamed 
 once that she recanted, in one act, all the 
 pretty things she had said to my credit, and 
 which pleased me so much. But I hope that 
 the woman in the dream did not represent my 
 old love, my only love, and that my sweet 
 heart was lost before she discovered that she 
 could not believe in me, or trust me. 
 
 " I write this in the hope that she may 
 somehow be able to see it, as her old self, 
 and know that I am grateful for many sweet 
 favors in the past. I cast this writing into 
 the sea; she may in some mysterious way be 
 able to read it, and know how dear she was 
 to me, and that I do not believe the woman 
 in the dream was the love I prized so much. 
 I want the old love to know of my confi 
 dence in her, and that I feel that though her 
 figure should appear in life, in its old form, 
 to humiliate me, 1 should believe that a wicked 
 spirit had taken her form and figure to taunt 
 me. The dream has made such an impression 
 
A MESSAGE AND A MYSTERY. 257 
 
 on me, and I was so humiliated when the 
 figure said that none of the pretty things I 
 had been so fond of were sincere, that I am 
 certain the Mrs. Tom I once knew is lost, 
 and that I shall never see her again. 
 
 "I have always had a horror of the dead, 
 but if I knew where Mrs. Tom was buried, 
 I should often visit her grave; to be near 
 the clay of such a woman as she was would 
 comfort me in my present loneliness. I think 
 that if I should walk through an unknown 
 field of graves, in which she was buried, hers 
 would attract me, and dispel the gloom of the 
 place ; in losing her I lost everything, and I 
 should find comfort in hovering around the 
 ruins of my former greatness." 
 
 The letter was often discussed in the family, 
 and the circumstance remarked, to the dis 
 credit of Uncle Tom, that he attempted no 
 defence. This was regarded as the most 
 serious of all, although it never occurred to 
 Mrs. Tom, who continued to reproach herself, 
 and imagine that her husband was wandering 
 
258 A MAN STORY. 
 
 up and down the world, destitute and 
 wretched. 
 
 Joe Tack had lately had political hopes, 
 connected with the Legislature, and in travel 
 ling around the country to exhibit himself as 
 the best husband in the world, I knew that 
 he talked a great deal about Uncle Tom, and 
 that his criticisms were always unfriendly; 
 perhaps he was jealous because Uncle Tom 
 had been a good husband, too, for I often 
 heard that he quoted Uncle Tom as an ex 
 ample of the injustice men practised upon 
 women. 
 
 The Boomer had a scheme in the Legis 
 lature, contemplating the appropriation of a 
 million dollars by the State to build a Uni 
 versity at Fog Lake, and he was Joe Tack s 
 principal patron, and between them they 
 were making a vigorous canvass. Joe con 
 fessed everywhere that he was not a states 
 man, but he expressed the opinion that he 
 was the best husband in the world, and said 
 that in a country full of bad husbands he 
 
A MESSAGE AND A MYSTERY. 259 
 
 ought to succeed. The people quietly laughed 
 at this, and led the candidate to believe that 
 his issue was a good one. So far as I was 
 personally concerned I felt no resentment 
 toward Joe ; a man who had a wife as ugly 
 as Mrs. Tack was punished enough. 
 
 Mrs. Tack frequently accompanied her hus 
 band, in order that the people might realize 
 what a sacrifice Mr. Tack was, making in 
 being a good husband, and she was un 
 friendly; so that those who knew of the 
 matter at all believed that Uncle Tom was 
 a wicked man, in spite of my judgment 
 (and I knew more of the matter than any 
 of the others J that, had he been given an 
 opportunity, he would have vindicated him 
 self. 
 
 The Boomer travelled around a good deal, 
 too, but he was so much interested in his 
 booms that he had little to say of the 
 matter which interested us most; while his 
 schemes were always turning out badly, he 
 never lost confidence in them, but was as 
 
2<)0 A MAN STORY. 
 
 faithful to them as if they had fulfilled every 
 expectation, and had time to think of nothing 
 else. He therefore left Uncle Tom alone, if 
 he did not say anything in his favor, and I 
 used to hope that we might get rid of Joe 
 Tack by his returning to the mill long 
 enough to make a fire in the boiler ; but I 
 learned that there was little hope of this, for 
 his boiler had become so old and rusty 
 that even he was afraid to trust it, and I 
 think this was the reason that he went into 
 politics, with his ugly wife as an issue. 
 
 The Brooper Woods continued to attract 
 Mrs. Tom, and as often as possible she 
 walked there, and I always faithfully attended 
 her, frequently forgetting myself, and adding 
 to her trouble by recounting what I knew 
 to Uncle Tom s credit. 
 
 On a certain evening, a month after his dis 
 appearance, we had gone to the lonely water- 
 tank where Uncle Tom had left the train, 
 and the poor woman looked everywhere for 
 his footprints, hoping to discover the course 
 
A MESSAGE AND A MYSTERY. 261 
 
 he had taken in leaving the country; but 
 nothing could be found in the darkness, and 
 she at last walked wearily toward the thick 
 est part of the woods, and the road he had 
 travelled with Mrs. Barnaby, believing that 
 he had gone that way. She still imagined 
 that he was in hiding in the woods, living 
 as an unhappy hermit, and that, if he should 
 hear her calling his name, he would come to 
 her. I believed that, too, for the manner in 
 which she called "Torn, Tom, Tom," the 
 last word always being mingled with a sob, 
 would have moved the most stubborn heart. 
 In walking towards the thickest part of the 
 woods from the water station we followed 
 the course of a noisy brook, which led us 
 toward home, though not in a direct line, 
 and I imagined that the water had learned 
 Mrs. Tom s refrain, and was calling " Tom, 
 Tom, Tom," for I could hear it in the rush 
 and roar. I mentioned this to her, and it 
 pleased her, for she said that, if her hus 
 band was living in the woods, he must 
 
262 A MAN STORY. 
 
 sometimes come to the brook to drink, and 
 then he would hear what I had heard, and 
 know, as I knew, that she was dying without 
 him, and that life would be a joy to her 
 should he consent to come back again. 
 
 Mrs. Tom was particularly nervous that 
 night, and called the name of her husband 
 oftener than usual, though there was nothing 
 to encourage the belief that he was within 
 hearing, for the Brooper Woods were as quiet 
 as a tomb. There was a pathetic sorrow in 
 her voice that I had never heard before, and 
 I felt it would have been better could she 
 have felt some of the hate of Mrs. Barnaby. 
 
 At her request I was half a hundred yards 
 in advance on our return home, as she said 
 he would be more apt to come when she was 
 alone, and as she had stopped in the road to call 
 in the old way, I sat down to wait for her, 
 and was thinking how horrible it would be if 
 the poor woman should lose her mind, and for 
 ever call " Tom ! Tom ! Tom ! " and make every 
 one cry who came near her. I was thinking of 
 
A MESSAGE AND A MYSTERY. 263 
 
 going back, and leading her home, when she gave 
 a quick exclamation of surprise ; there was also 
 something in her voice that convinced me that 
 she was not frightened, and when I hastened 
 toward her I knew that what she had ex 
 pected had happened, and that Uncle Tom s 
 ghost or own proper self had stepped out of 
 the darkness and into her arms. I could not 
 see distinctly, but I felt that she was on her 
 knees before him, trying to speak, but could 
 not for sobbing. Uncle Tom picked her up at 
 once, and held her in his arms until she had 
 partially recovered. Then she attempted to ex 
 plain why she had not seen him ; but he 
 asked her not to speak of that. 
 
 "I have tried hard to be brave and sensible," 
 he said, "but I could not resist coming back 
 to Fog Lake to-night, in the hope of seeing 
 you as you were before our trouble came ; as 
 you were when a touch of your hand rested 
 me when I was tired. I am so tired now that 
 I am like a silly boy, and want some one to 
 comfort me ; no one in the world can do it 
 
264 A MAN STORY. 
 
 except the old love I have lost, your old self, 
 whom I found wandering here in the woods. 
 
 "If I ever had the power of reasoning, I 
 have lost it, for I came back to-night with 
 the hope in my heart that I should find I had 
 dreamed all my unhappiness ; that the sight of 
 you would drive away all the devils that have 
 been keeping me company. Although I knew 
 so well that my unhappiness was real, I could 
 not forget the power for good you once had 
 over me, and I came back hoping you would 
 somehow find means to help me, as you used 
 to do ; it was foolish, but I could not help 
 it. But as I walked along, I heard you call 
 ing me, expressing helplessness in every word ; 
 my idol had left the sanctuary where it so 
 long dispensed comfort and aid to others, and 
 was seeking comfort. I knew then that there 
 was no hope ; there was rain, and cold, and 
 sorrow in heaven, and the angels were leav 
 ing it. 
 
 "Don t speak of anything that will cause me 
 pain ; let me go my weary way, feeling that 
 
A MESSAGE AND A MYSTERY. 265 
 
 the old love has come back for a moment 
 from the darkness, from the skies, and will 
 go away again. Don t speak of anything that 
 has happened in a month ; let me think of 
 you as one at whose grave I have mourned, 
 and who is permitted to help me forget my 
 loss by appearing to me as she was before. 
 Let me believe in you again, for I lived on 
 your faith in me. I need the old encourage 
 ment to keep my reason." 
 
 As had always been her way, she accepted 
 what he suggested without hesitation, and gave 
 herself up to saying that she knew he would 
 come back to her, and that she walked in 
 the woods whenever it was possible, and called 
 his name. 
 
 "For a month I have been longing for you 
 as a man in hell longs for water," Uncle Tom 
 continued. " The fire that is now consuming 
 me I built for the mere pleasure of seeing the 
 blaze, although I knew better, and was always 
 warning myself against it. In spite of my 
 scars I played with the fire, and now there 
 
266 A MAN STORT. 
 
 is not enough water in the ocean to put it 
 out. I am like the wretched man who ex 
 periments with opium, and who drags himself 
 back to his old vice. I am more unhappy 
 now because of you than 1^ ever was content, 
 but I find a pleasure in being with you. I 
 am a man without honor, for they would not 
 listen to me when I would have shown that 
 I was honorable, though the worst criminals 
 are always given a hearing. I am a man with 
 out a home, and a man without a heart, for 
 I have given both away, and cannot take them 
 back, and I am so wretched in consequence 
 that I must find relief as the unhappy drunk 
 ard seeks forgetfulness of his disgrace in 
 drink, although he knows the world hates him 
 because of the habit that affords him relief. 
 Let me revel for a brief time in your com 
 pany ; forget our trouble, and tell me that you 
 love me, and have confidence in me." 
 
 " I love you ; I have confidence in you," 
 she answered quickly. " If I knew that I was 
 dying, and had but a few words to say, they 
 
A MESSAGE AND A MYSTERY. 267 
 
 would be 4 I love you; I have confidence in 
 you. " 
 
 " It is the draught that intoxicates," he re 
 plied. "Poor drunkard that I am, let me 
 forget my sorrow in dissipation; pass the cup 
 again, and say that you would die for me." 
 
 "As willingly, Tom, as I rest in your arms," 
 she answered; "and you can never know what 
 a blessed joy it is to see you again. Let me 
 say my prayers to you, my god, and declare 
 it." 
 
 "1 am still a fool," Uncle Tom said, after 
 a pause, during which he prevented her getting 
 on her knees before him, " and this pleases 
 me, as the drunken fellow who is not a man 
 is pleased when he is called a god. But I 
 must get away before I recover from my in 
 toxication. Old Barnaby, whom I now some 
 how think of as the devil, expects me to take 
 the road again, and travel for him. Say once 
 more that you love me, and have confidence 
 in me, and I ll be off." 
 
 Mrs. Tom did not realize before that he 
 
268 A MAN STORT. 
 
 was only there for a moment, although I had 
 felt it from the first, and she clung to him 
 with all her strength. 
 
 "Don t go," she sobbed. "Don t hide from 
 me again, Tom; I am becoming so weak that 
 I cannot hunt you, and will die. Don t go, 
 Tom ; I cannot live without you ; oh ! " 
 
 He had broken away from her, and disap 
 peared into the woods, and when I hurried to 
 her I saw her stagger and fall into the under 
 brush beside the road. When I picked her 
 up the thorns had caught in her hair, and 
 pulled it down around her face, and she was 
 limp and faint. 
 
 Determined to get her home as soon as pos 
 sible, I picked her up and started; but it was 
 a heavy load, and when I staggered I felt 
 her lifted out of my arms, and knew that 
 Uncle Tom was carrying her rapidly along in 
 his strong arms. I followed, and not a word 
 was spoken. 
 
 In her delirium she could not forget the 
 horror of Uncle Tom pulling away from her 
 
A MESSAGE AND A MYSTERY. 269 
 
 and disappearing into the darkness, and she 
 kept saying, "Don t go; don t go," crying 
 after the last word as she had done when I 
 had heard her call, "Tom, Torn, Tom!" It 
 affected me greatly, but I could not tell 
 whether Uncle Tom was affected or not, for 
 his face was from me, and he walked steadily 
 along. 
 
 Arriving within a short distance of the 
 house, he gave her to me, and disappeared, 
 and I went on toward the house. 
 
 At this moment the noisy town omnibus 
 came in sight, with Number Two as the only 
 passenger. After many failures and much noise 
 the vehicle backed up to the front door, and 
 Number Two deliberately alighted, having re 
 covered from the Bends, and I called to him. 
 He was weak and trembling from his long 
 dissipation, but he was greatly interested at 
 once, and helped me carry the poor girl up 
 the stairs to her room. We visited her at 
 intervals during the night, and although she 
 always said she was better, she had not un- 
 
270 A MAN STORY. 
 
 dressed, and was lying across the bed; when 
 she spoke to us we could detect an effort to 
 convince us that she was really better, and 
 that she had not been crying. 
 
 
/ GET AN IDEA. 271 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 I GET AN IDEA. 
 
 ONE day, six months after the disappearance 
 of Uncle Tom, I was looking idly at the letter 
 he had written, and it seemed to me that I 
 could make out the name of a town and a State 
 from the postmark on the envelope; a town 
 as far west from Fog Lake as the City was 
 east ; a country on the frontier where men who 
 had lost everything were likely to go. I re 
 membered the country as it appeared on the 
 school map because of the absence of lines 
 indicating streams and railroads, but I took a 
 new interest in it by reason of the conclusion 
 to which I had come. The postal marks were 
 quite indistinct, and I guessed at them as I 
 might guess at a puzzle; but I found the name 
 of the town I had hit upon in a directory at 
 the post-office, credited to the State selected, 
 
272 A MAN STORY. 
 
 and I soon came to believe that Uncle Tom 
 was there, and that he was in business again, 
 for I believed that he would prosper in that way 
 anywhere. It thus came about that I thought 
 a great deal of going to the town, though I 
 did not mention to any one my reasons for 
 selecting this particular place, for since it had 
 been found out that I was not the smartest 
 boy in the world, I got along but poorly at 
 home. They were always talking of getting 
 a place for me, and of my own inactivity in 
 the matter, and although Number One did 
 nothing himself, his insolence because of my 
 idleness became unbearable; I therefore deter 
 mined to seek Uncle Tom, in the hope that 
 I could find him and get something to do. I 
 also believed that I might be able to explain 
 away many things he did not understand, and 
 do Mrs. Tom a great service, for I knew it 
 was the one hope of her life to see her hus 
 band again. 
 
 I thought it for the best that I should go, 
 for I was always talking to Mrs. Tom about 
 
I GET AN IDEA. 273 
 
 her husband, which only added to her trouble, 
 and there was a complaint whenever I was 
 with her alone. She bore up better than I 
 expected, for she believed that Uncle Tom 
 would come back to her finally, for he had 
 appeared to her in the Brooper Woods, and 
 might appear again ; she even accepted his 
 absence as a sort of deserved punishment for 
 her failure to see him, which she had explained 
 to me a hundred times by saying that the ap 
 pearance of Mrs. Barnaby in the house rendered 
 her helpless, and she could not move. 
 
 I told her one day of my intended departure, 
 and she seemed glad I was going, though it 
 was more because she knew I was not welcome 
 at home than anything else, and when she 
 offered to loan me the money necessary for 
 the trip, I resolved to slip away as soon as 
 possible, when no one was looking, that I 
 might avoid the humiliation of seeing that 
 they were all glad to be rid of me. 
 
 Joe Tack s experiment in politics had not 
 been successful, and he was disgracefully beaten 
 
274 A MAN STORY. 
 
 for the Legislature ; the men did not seem to 
 appreciate being told that they were brutal hus 
 bands, although Joe thought they did, and most 
 of them voted for a candidate who had no issue, 
 further than that he was mean to his wife, 
 and who could not make a speech. Joe had 
 become rather too fond of his silver tongue, 
 too, for he had made a great many speeches 
 during the campaign, and, as he was rather 
 tiresome, the people selected a man who could 
 keep quiet. 
 
 Although we knew he was greatly disappointed, 
 he said but little to indicate that he was, and 
 went cheerfully to work again on his boiler, 
 which held together surprisingly well, for it 
 only blew up once in three months, and Joe 
 was not seriously scalded then. He received a 
 great many letters from Sarah, which abused 
 the living Mrs. Tack as adroitly as ever, but 
 not so frequently, for Sarah had a new grief, 
 which was more important than jealousy ; the 
 manner in which the people had treated Joe 
 at the election was very displeasing to her, 
 
/ GET AN IDEA. 275 
 
 and she said plainly in the letters that the 
 people around Fog Lake were unappreciative 
 and envious and dull and contemptible. Joe 
 pretended that he did not share in this opinion, 
 but I could not help remarking that he never 
 lost an opportunity to read the letters, and 
 laugh at their absurdity. Whenever Joe told 
 his ugly wife anything in the strictest confi 
 dence, and said that under no circumstances 
 must it be repeated, she at once told it every 
 where, and as she was shown the letters as a 
 secret favor, the people soon knew how they 
 were regarded by Sarah, and all of thorn knew 
 who Sarah was. 
 
 I think Joe made practical use of this weak 
 ness of his wife to tell everything she was 
 requested to keep quiet. A few days before 
 he was ready to start his mill after an ex 
 plosion, he would tell his wife as a profound 
 secret that he would be ready to supply the 
 people with lumber the next week, and sur 
 prise them, and Mrs. Tack would soon have 
 
276 A MAN STORY. 
 
 the information all over the neighborhood, 
 though in the strictest confidence. 
 
 Joe s defeat for the Legislature had caused 
 him to dislike me, for some reason, though 
 I had nothing to do with it. A few days 
 before I left Fog Lake for good I walked 
 through the Brooper Woods for the last time 
 with Mrs. Tom, and we called at the mill. 
 The proprietor was very kind, and quite con 
 fidential, for he offered to show us a letter 
 he had recently received from Sarah; but 
 he soon thought better of this, so far as I 
 was concerned, and would only show it to 
 Mrs. Tom. This action I thought rather sur 
 prising, for he always pretended to esteem 
 me very highly, and on our return home I 
 persuaded Mrs. Tom to tell me of its con 
 tents, although I was afterwards sorry that 
 I did, for it added another grief to my list. 
 The letter said that the manner in which I 
 was living off of Number One, who was a 
 hard-working and worthy man, was the scan 
 dal of the neighborhood. This incensed me 
 
I GET AN IDEA. 271 
 
 so much that I told Mrs. Tom that I knew 
 Joe Tack wrote the letters himself ; but she 
 was not surprised, and I think they had all 
 known it a long time. 
 
 Mrs. Tom may have known that the real 
 object of my proposed journey was to find 
 her husband, and she may have believed that 
 in case I did find him I could not keep the 
 secret from her; but I thought that day that 
 she was anxious for me to go. She was very 
 thoughtful as we walked along, and did not 
 even notice the place where Uncle Tom had 
 disappeared the night he appeared to her. 
 All along the road we were travelling I had 
 pointed out places where scenes of the great 
 est interest to her had occurred, but she did 
 not remark them on this particular day, 
 although they had once had such a fascina 
 tion for her that she walked the road almost 
 every night ; perhaps she was impatient to 
 send out a courier in search of Uncle Tom ; 
 one who would assure him that she loved 
 him as much as he ever believed, and trusted 
 
278 A MAX STORY. 
 
 him as much ; a messenger who would never 
 tire of saying that she was waiting patiently 
 to do his bidding, whatever it might be, 
 though she hoped with all her heart that his 
 will would be to take her back, and give 
 her one more chance. 
 
 My mother and her father were in par 
 ticularly bad humor that day, for Number 
 Two was on another bender, and everything 
 was going so badly that I at last made up 
 my mind to find the town of Hooper in the 
 west ; that was the name I had made out 
 on the envelope. I had a horror of starting, 
 for I knew that my money would only carry 
 me to the town, and that, in case Uncle 
 Tom was not there, I could not get back, 
 and would be compelled to labor at some 
 rough work for subsistence, and give up all 
 hope of finding Uncle Tom. But they were 
 all anxious to get rid of me on any terms, 
 and that night, when they were all asleep, 
 I left the house with as much stealth and 
 trembling as though I had robbed them. 
 
/ GET AN IDEA. 279 
 
 Number Two was roaring away in his room, 
 so that I was not heard, and in a little while 
 I was travelling a road I had never travelled 
 before, and which I believed would take me 
 out of the world. 
 
 Perhaps the fear I experienced in leaving 
 Fog Lake was a premonition that my journey 
 would be successful; it is possible that every 
 one is rewarded for modest fear of their own 
 capacity, as every one is punished for too 
 much confidence. 
 
280 A MAN STORY. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE TOWN IN THE WEST. 
 
 HAD the town I picked upon as the resi 
 dence of Uncle Tom turned out the wrong 
 one, I don t know what I should have done, 
 for I arrived there without money; but for 
 tunately I had not made a mistake in Hooper 
 (I think there was originally a W before the 
 H), and within half an hour after my arrival 
 I stood before a store bearing his name in 
 front in gaudy letters, for even the sign- 
 painters seemed to partake of the flashy nature 
 of the country. I felt company even in the 
 presence of his name, and although I arrived 
 quite early in the morning, and was walking 
 rather aimlessly about when I made the dis 
 covery, the store was open, and the business 
 of the day progressing. 
 
 When I walked in Uncle Tom had his back 
 
THE TOWN IN THE WEST. 281 
 
 to the door, engaged in suggesting an im 
 provement in one of the shelves to a clerk, 
 and although he was a little surprised when 
 he turned and saw me, he soon recovered 
 himself, and acted as though I was an ac 
 quaintance who lived in the town, and who 
 had stepped in on some sort of an errand. I 
 think I showed more surprise on seeing him 
 than he did on seeing me, for he was greatly 
 changed and had sunken cheeks, as though 
 the task of thinking as much of the people 
 in Hooper as he thought of the people in Fog 
 Lake was a disagreeable and tiresome one. 
 
 He was as indifferent toward me as to any 
 one, and while he was shaking hands with 
 me a customer came in, and Uncle Tom sup 
 plied his wants before inquiring of me how 
 they all were at home. 
 
 He was quite busy all that day, it happened 
 to be Saturday, and although he talked to 
 me occasionally, and took me to dinner at the 
 hotel, he only referred to those at home as 
 he might to acquaintances he cared little for, 
 
282 A MAN STORY. 
 
 and had seen within a week. The wives and 
 children of the customers who came in from 
 the country received the same polite attention 
 he gave to me, and he seemed to treat all 
 exactly alike. Once a man who was evidently 
 of importance in the town stepped in for a 
 few moments, and soon after he went away a 
 farmer s dog followed his master into the store, 
 and I thought he had as much consideration 
 for one as the other. 
 
 I saw during the day that he was doing an 
 enormous business, and that he was popular, 
 which may have been one result of the exact 
 justice he dealt out to all. From the loungers 
 with whom I associated on the sidewalk I 
 learned that he was running a "cash" store, 
 and that there was great indignation among 
 the other merchants, because people who owed 
 them money patronized him. The loungers also 
 agreed that Uncle Tom was doing the best 
 business in the town, and that he deserved it, 
 for he was a thorough good fellow. 
 
 These loungers interested me, and there was 
 
THE TOWN IN THE WEST. 283 
 
 one in particular whom I watched nearly all 
 day. He was so fat and lazy-looking that he 
 attracted my attention almost as soon as I saw 
 the name of Thos. Saulsbury above the box 
 on which the fellow sat, and as he was still 
 there when I came out again, after seeing the 
 proprietor, I looked at him more closely. He 
 seemed to be looking at the sun and thinking, 
 and since that was a new country, and the 
 people quite poor, I wondered how such a 
 lazy-looking man ever became so fat. 
 
 While watching him I saw a crowd collect 
 ing in the street a block away, and went over 
 to see what was up ; but the lazy man did 
 not move, although he looked indolently at 
 the people going that way. I found, on in 
 vestigation, that a man had brought in a wolf, 
 which his dogs had caught on his way to 
 town; and although a wolf was a common 
 sight there, the crowd lingered around it for 
 an hour, as though they were looking for ex 
 cuses to idle their time away. I finally began 
 wondering if Uncle Tom would not join the 
 
284 A MAN STORY. 
 
 circle, for all the other people seemed to be 
 taking a look at the dead wolf, arid while 
 looking toward the store, I saw the lazy man 
 slowly approaching; he had succumbed at last, 
 and after he joined the circle, he was the 
 last one to go away. 
 
 The man whose dogs had caught the wolf 
 told all the particulars twenty times to the 
 new-comers, and the lazy man always listened 
 with the greatest attention, though he asked 
 no questions. At last, when the wolf was 
 taken away, the lazy man remained awhile in 
 the street alone, wondering where he would go 
 next, finally waddling off toward the post- 
 office, where he sat on the counter, and looked 
 at those who came in. Here I heard him 
 speak ; in answer to a man who came in, and 
 called him Bill, he said things down on Cow 
 Creek were about the same as usual, and soon 
 after he asked if he had any mail, and went 
 out when he found there was nothing for him. 
 The man with the wolf had a new crowd 
 around him in front of the post-office, and Bill 
 
THE TOWN IN THE WEST. 285 
 
 joined the circle again, and listened with the 
 greatest interest to the particulars of the capt 
 ure, which he had heard many times before. 
 When the wolf was carried away a second 
 time, Bill was again left alone in the street, 
 where he tried to collect his thoughts, and 
 decide where he would go next. He decided 
 on a livery stable not far away, where I soon 
 followed, and found him sitting on a wagon- 
 tongue. I heard him say to the proprietor of 
 the stable that he had better take that bay 
 horse ; but the proprietor said he already had 
 all the horses he wanted, and Bill did not 
 speak again until after dinner, although I 
 followed him around nearly all the morning. 
 About noon he disappeared from the street, 
 and I imagined he had a daughter living in 
 town, and that he had gone over there to 
 dinner. When he returned there was so much 
 grease in the corners of his mouth that I was 
 sure he had dined on bacon, but he was lazier 
 than ever by reason of it, and did not move 
 about so much as in the morning; indeed, he 
 
286 A MAN STORY. 
 
 occupied one box until near five o clock, when 
 he walked into Uncle Tom s store, bought ten 
 cents worth of saleratus, and began asking if 
 any one knew of a wagon in from the Cow 
 Creek way. He finally found one, and I saw 
 him going away, seated in the bottom of the 
 wagon-bed, and looking as though he would 
 like to hear that wolf story once more. 
 
 There were a good many others on the 
 streets who reminded me of Bill, and I won 
 dered how Uncle Tom could prosper in such 
 a place ; but when I mentioned it to him he 
 laughed, and said that Bill was all right; he 
 would probably work the next day, as it would 
 be Sunday, and all the stores would be shut 
 up. Hooper seemed a wretchedly poor prairie 
 town to me, but it drew trade from a large 
 territory, and seemed to be prospering. 
 
 By six o clock the rush was over, and Uncle 
 Tom took me down to his house, a comfort 
 able two -story frame he had built, and where 
 he lived with an old colored man who had 
 been a house-servant in slavery days. The 
 
THE TOWN IN THE WEST. 287 
 
 house was completely furnished, and the old 
 negro kept it very well, for he gave us a par 
 ticularly good supper, and he seemed to have 
 very good ideas about such things. I noticed 
 that while in the kitchen he wore a cook s 
 cap, but when he came in to serve he 
 changed this for a waiter s jacket and apron. 
 
 Uncle Tom gradually approached the subject 
 most in my thoughts, as the meal progressed, 
 and finally said he had not received me more 
 warmly because he had resolved to in future 
 treat every one exactly alike ; he had been in 
 love once, and disappointed, and could not 
 stand another experience like it; he believed 
 it would kill him. He talked of this in a 
 light way, but he had become so grave since 
 I had seen him that had he told me ghost 
 stories, I should have thought he believed in 
 them. 
 
 " I was glad to see you," he said, " and I 
 shall give you a place if you want it; but 
 while I shall expect you to live here with me, 
 I shall treat you exactly as I do all the 
 
288 A MAN STORY. 
 
 others. I shall never again be fond of any 
 living thing. I am not a gloomy man, of 
 course it would not do for a philosopher to 
 be gloomy, and I am a philosopher now, 
 but I am afraid to ever be fond of any one 
 again; I would certainly be disappointed, and 
 I could not stand it." 
 
 Soon after we retired to his room in the 
 upper part of the house, and I noticed that 
 while the curtains at the north and south 
 windows were drawn, that on the east win 
 dow was up ; there was an easy-chair near it, 
 and I thought he often sat there, and looked 
 out into the night in the direction Mrs. Tom 
 lived. I think he noticed that I remarked 
 this arrangement, for he avoided the chair, 
 and sat down at a table in front of the fire. 
 
 " I have a new love affair, with a lady 
 named Margaret," he said, after a long 
 silence, during which I believe we were both 
 thinking that it would be exceedingly awkward 
 to talk of Mrs. Tom under the circumstances. 
 
 He produced a small image of a woman, 
 
THE TOWN IN THE WEST. 289 
 
 made of some sort of metal, which had once 
 been used to support the bowl of a lamp. 
 This he held up for my inspection, and then 
 put down on the table. 
 
 "Margaret is the most sensible woman in 
 the world," he continued. " She has never 
 once found fault with me, although I have 
 been very trying at times, I imagine, to a 
 lady of Margaret s fine sensibilities. For days 
 and weeks I do not think of her, but she 
 imagines I am busy, and says nothing. This 
 is all the more remarkable when it is known 
 that Margaret is very much in love with me. 
 She would jump into the fire for me should I 
 ask her. 4 Margaret, my sweet mistress, he said, 
 addressing the image, I desire that you jump 
 into the fire to convince this young man that 
 you love me. " 
 
 Thereupon he picked Margaret up, and threw 
 her into the fire, where she was soon red-hot. 
 
 " She makes no complaint, you will notice," 
 Uncle Tom said, listlessly gazing at his sweet 
 mistress as she lay in the coals. " When it is 
 
290 A MAN STORY. 
 
 nay pleasure for her to come out, she will 
 come out, but not before, and she will never 
 complain of the suffering she endured to grat 
 ify my whim." 
 
 When it seemed certain that Margaret would 
 not complain of the heat, Uncle Tom removed 
 her with the tongs, and set her down on 
 the hearth to cool off. 
 
 "I wonder she is as faithful to me as she is. 
 I have been trying to love her ever since I 
 have been here, and although I have not suc 
 ceeded very well, Margaret never complains; 
 the sensible woman no doubt believes that I 
 cannot fail to appreciate her in time. I hope 
 that I shall, for she is very deserving. She 
 never compares me unfavorably to a gentleman 
 she might have married, and it has never oc 
 curred to Margaret at any time that her lot 
 in life might have been better; that she might 
 have found a man more competent and thought 
 ful than I am. She believes that I do the 
 best I can, and is satisfied. Margaret has her 
 faults; it might be imagined from her silence, 
 
THE TOWN IN THE WEST. 291 
 
 for example, that she is sullen ; but she has 
 more virtues than faults. This love affair 
 with me may not be the only one in which 
 she has been interested, but I do not hate 
 any one on her account ; there is a good deal 
 in that. Admitting that she has been in love 
 before, I should not care. I know her 
 peculiar nature, and I cannot imagine her 
 saying or doing anything that would displease 
 me. There is a good deal in that, too." 
 
 Margaret had cooled off by this time suffi 
 ciently to be removed to the table, where 
 Uncle Tom affectionately stroked her metal 
 hair. 
 
 "I have never been thoughtful of Margaret, 
 in spite of her devotion to me, and I have 
 never been fond of her, of which I am ashamed; 
 but in spite of it all she has confidence in me. 
 If Mrs. Tom, for instance, should come into 
 this house, Margaret wouldn t care ; indeed, 
 Margaret would be glad to see her, and make 
 it as pleasant for her as she does for me. 
 Even if she knew I had once been fond of 
 
292 A MAN STORY. 
 
 Mrs. Tom, it would make no difference with 
 Margaret; if she knew that I have never been 
 able to get over my insane fondness for Mrs. 
 Tom, I believe that Margaret would still be 
 my friend, and do all she could to relieve 
 my sorrow, instead of trying to add to it, as 
 some women do who find the man they love 
 in trouble. This is a very unusual quality in 
 a woman; particularly in a woman of fine 
 sensibilities- like Margaret. 
 
 "Her ideas on this question are so sound 
 that they attract my warmest admiration. I 
 cannot always cheerfully act upon Margaret s 
 knowledge myself, but I admire her good sense. 
 Every one should feel with reference to such 
 matters as Margaret does, but they do not, 
 and are very miserable ; Margaret, I believe, is 
 a very happy woman." 
 
 Uncle Tom was always fearful, I imagined, 
 that I should believe him to be melancholy, 
 and as he had been quite doleful while talk 
 ing of his new love affair, he brightened up, 
 and said that Margaret needed to be freshly 
 
THE TOWN IN THE WEST. 293 
 
 painted, as the imitation of bronze with which 
 she had originally been clothed was becoming 
 tarnished. 
 
 "I have thought that in case I ever become 
 fond of Margaret I shall regret her silence ; 
 but lately I have concluded that her habit of 
 saying nothing is a good thing. It is usually 
 the case that when a woman is first in love 
 she says a great many pretty things to her 
 partner in folly, which gives him an exalted 
 idea of himself. But one by one she recants 
 all the pretty things she has said, and the man 
 is worse off than though he had always been 
 sensible ; a poor man is better off for never 
 having been a king. When a woman is first 
 in love with you she pretends not to notice 
 your faults; but it is certain that she remarks 
 them, for she recounts them to the next fel 
 low as evidence that she never really loved 
 you. Mrs. Tom has said many pretty things 
 to me, but I know now she never meant them, 
 and I have foolish regrets that there is not 
 
294 A MAN STORY. 
 
 some one in the world who could say pretty 
 things of me, and live by them." 
 
 "I shall always believe," I said, "that Mrs. 
 Tom thinks as much of you now as she ever 
 did." 
 
 " I am of the same opinion," he replied, in 
 a tone which somehow convinced me that I 
 had not advanced Mrs. Tom s cause. There 
 was a subdued bitterness in his voice which 
 convinced me that, while he could not help 
 being fond of Mrs. Tom, he felt humiliation 
 because she was not equally fond of him; there 
 was an announcement in it that his spirit and 
 pride had been humbled ; but he soon commenced 
 talking about the image again, and with a des 
 perate sort of cheerfulness. 
 
 " Margaret has never told me she loves me ; 
 but she has never told me she does not, and 
 as she lives with me, and finds no fault, I 
 infer that she is satisfied. She has never said 
 anything to me that I wanted to hear, little 
 remarks that I felt I was entitled to ; but, on 
 the other hand, she has said nothing that I did 
 
THE TOWN IN THE WEST. 295 
 
 not want to hear, and has generally been very 
 discreet. I am free to imagine whatever I 
 please of Margaret, and she never tells me I 
 am mistaken either by word or action. But 
 I see I can t keep you awake any longer, and 
 you had better go to bed." 
 
 He had been noticing that I was sleepy, and 
 in getting up from the table he jarred it in 
 such a way that Margaret fell over on her 
 face ; but he did not take the pains to right 
 her, feeling, no doubt, that with her usual 
 good nature she would not complain. 
 
 He followed me into my room, and remained 
 until I was in bed, when he reluctantly with 
 drew. He had a habit of reading in bed, 
 books of a severe philosophical cast, usually, 
 and this night he read so late that when I 
 awakened and saw his light still burning, I 
 thought the patient Margaret must have re 
 belled at last, and that he was busy explain 
 ing away that which the excellent woman had 
 so long borne in silence. 
 
296 A MAN STORY. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 MR. HICKEY. 
 
 THE Monday after my arrival in Hooper 
 (the people always pronounced the name of 
 the town as though it was Whooper, and 
 was great at Whooping up things, though it 
 was not) I was given a place in the 
 store, and, as Uncle Tom had been some 
 what crowded with office-work, I helped him 
 in that; I was willing to undertake to write 
 a fairly good hand, and believed that Uncle 
 Tom would be so patient in teaching me 
 that my willingness would soon enable me to 
 give tolerable satisfaction. His promptness in 
 giving me a place encouraged me to try 
 very hard to please him, and the duties he 
 marked out for me I worked at with all my 
 might. 
 
 I wrote home telling them I had found a 
 
MR. I1ICKEY. 297 
 
 place; but I did not mention who my bene 
 factor was, though I wrote as few letters as 
 possible, fearful that I could not keep the 
 secret. Uncle Tom never told me not to 
 mention it; but I supposed he preferred to 
 remain hidden, or he would have told of his 
 whereabouts himself. I lived with the pro 
 prietor in his wooden house on the edge of 
 the town, and as I had made friends with 
 his old negro servant, whose name was Archie, 
 I was quite comfortably situated. 
 
 One of the clerks in the store, I discov 
 ered during the idle day following my ar 
 rival, was the renowned Mr. Hickey, of 
 whom Mrs. Footit talked so much. Consid 
 ering that he was rather an old man, he 
 was a foolish sort of a fellow, and I often 
 amused myself by telling him what a large, 
 splendid man Footit was, and how rich he 
 had become. Although Hickey was quite a 
 gay old chap, and murmured a good deal 
 because of the lack of society in Hooper, 
 he had a warm heart, for when I occasion- 
 
298 A MAN STORY. 
 
 ally walked about in the evening with him, 
 and told of Mrs. Footit s devotion to him, 
 he quietly wiped his moist eyes with one of 
 the handkerchiefs we advertised as leaders at 
 six for twenty-five cents, and said that mem 
 ory was a certain but ruthless friend. 
 
 If Hickey had ever been married, as Mrs. 
 Footit had stated, he was evidently a widower 
 when I knew him, for he was always going 
 to sociables, which were the only amuse 
 ments the town afforded; and if he had ever 
 been rich, he had seen hard times, and lost 
 his money, for he was certainly quite poor 
 when I knew him, except in affection ; he had 
 plenty of that, and was always offering to 
 give it away. I was convinced that Mrs. 
 Footit s entire story was a fiction, except 
 that she had once been engaged to him; and 
 while Hickey pretended to fondly remember 
 his old sweetheart, he was evidently not 
 sincere, for it was said of him that he was 
 always trying to marry some one. There was 
 a story current to the effect that Hickey had 
 
MR. HICKEY. 299 
 
 tried to many a certain widow, but she pre 
 ferred a better man, and Hickey then paid 
 court to her oldest daughter. The daughter 
 married away from him, too, and he became 
 attentive to a still younger daughter, and the 
 story went that, after she married, Hickey 
 continued to visit the house, although the 
 only girl left was just turning fifteen. 
 
 There were a number of church organiza 
 tions in the town, for it is the history of 
 the frontier that while the first man to 
 arrive in a county is at work building a 
 court-house, his wife is busy arranging for 
 a church, and Hickey attended all their 
 sociables, and mite societies, and that sort of 
 thing. It was his habit to say that he liked 
 all the churches so well that he had not 
 been able to make up his mind which one 
 to join as a permanent arrangement, though 
 I used to fear he would die of old age with 
 out connecting himself with any of them. 
 But Hickey thought of himself as quite a 
 boy, in spite of his age, and preferred my 
 
300 A MAN STORY.. 
 
 society to that of the older ones in the store, 
 though I heard him say one time, when his 
 judgment had been questioned about some 
 thing, that he had been a clerk for forty 
 years, and ought to know what he was talk 
 ing about. 
 
 Though Hickey was an extremely good man, 
 I did not like him very well, and, as the 
 town was quite dull, I spent most of my 
 evenings at home with Uncle Tom, who 
 treated me with the greatest kindness and 
 consideration, and who always seemed glad to 
 have me with him, in spite of his resolve to 
 have no favorites. 
 
 Although he was apparently cheerful, I knew 
 him to be a very wretched man. Occasionally 
 he would forget that a philosopher should 
 never be gloomy, and go about his duties in 
 a quiet way that was distressing, when it was 
 said around the store that the " old man " 
 was troubled. Uncle Tom was not an old 
 man, but he was privately referred to as one 
 by the clerks; even Hickey did it, although 
 
MR. IIIC KEY. 301 
 
 Hickey might have been Uncle Tom s father 
 had he married as early as he desired. 
 
 Uncle Tom was quite well known in that 
 country, and popular, too, I think; but he 
 never went anywhere, and when he could find 
 an excuse for it, he worked at the store until 
 a late hour, as if he was better satisfied when 
 at work than at any other time. 
 
 At night, at the house, when he talked to 
 me, and I sought polite excuse to go to bed, 
 being of a sleepy turn, he would introduce a 
 more interesting subject, with a view of keep 
 ing me with him, and I always felt that he 
 was mourning for the loss of Mrs. Tom, there 
 fore he did not surprise me when he told me 
 so one night, with his usual frankness. Pie 
 was seated in an easy-chair in front of the 
 window looking toward Fog Lake, with his 
 feet resting on the sill, and had just pointed 
 out a pathway of stars which seemed to end 
 directly over the house where Mrs. Tom lived ; 
 a pathway he watched a great deal, he told 
 me, although it always made lu m lonely. 
 
302 A MAN STORY. 
 
 " I am as fond of Mrs. Tom as I ever 
 was," he said; "and while I can convince 
 myself that I should not be, I soon forget 
 my arguments, and am as foolish as ever. I 
 shall have a good deal of charity in future 
 for the men who have bad habits, and cannot 
 overcome them, although they know better. 
 All the common sense and all the logic, all 
 the arguments, in short, are on the side of my 
 forgetting Mrs. Tom ; but I am weaker in my 
 heart than in my head, I suppose, and I can 
 not do it, although I am about the only man 
 in the world who has permitted the love- 
 craziness to occupy his mind for nearly three 
 years. There is absolutely nothing in it; no 
 one knows that better than I do, yet no one 
 knows quite as well as I do that the lack of 
 it is gradually breaking me down. Mrs. Tom 
 used to say that everything I did was right, 
 and that she could not live without me ; but 
 she knows now that everything I do is not 
 right, and she is living without me." 
 
 He was gazing out into the darkness, at the 
 
MR. IIICKET. 303 
 
 pathway of stars leading toward the house 
 where Mrs. Tom lived. The pathway was so 
 indistinct to my eyes that I could scarcely 
 make it out, but it seemed clearly defined to 
 Uncle Tom, and after a long silence he pointed 
 out a particular star which was brighter than 
 the others, and which he was sure hovered 
 over Mrs. Tom every night. 
 
 " Had there been anything in love," he con 
 tinued later, " Mrs. Tom never would have 
 refused to see me that night. They say a 
 love affair is more serious and important to a 
 woman than to a man. Well, I suppose it 
 is; but had she trusted in me as I trusted in 
 her, I should have been a very contented 
 man now, instead of one of the most wretched 
 in the world." 
 
 I told him, then, that I had heard Mrs. 
 Tom say that she had exactly the trust in 
 him that he expected, but that when she was 
 told that Mrs. Barnaby was in the house 
 expressly to make him trouble, she was pow 
 erless to speak or move; that she wanted to 
 
304 A MAN STORY. 
 
 go to him, and express her confidence, but 
 could not. 
 
 The reference to Mrs. Barnaby did not do 
 him any good, apparently, for when he contin 
 ued, there was more bitterness in his tone : 
 
 "It is not what you want to do that counts 
 in life, but what you really do. Usually when 
 a man is accused his defence is weak, but 
 had they heard me that night I should have 
 vindicated myself; I had the proofs to show 
 them. It would have been the one memorable 
 event in my life had Mrs. Tom permitted me 
 to convince her that her confidence in me was 
 deserved. There was a time when I did not 
 think so much of honor as I do now, but I 
 was very anxious that night to prove that 
 every unfavorable charge made against me was 
 untrue. It is not often that even guilty men 
 are denied a hearing." 
 
 I thought there was a great deal in his 
 statement, that it is not what you want to do, 
 but what you really do, that counts in life. 
 I had always been willing to become a banker, 
 
MR. TUCKET. 305 
 
 or a great man in some other way, but what 
 I had really done that was creditable amounted 
 to almost nothing. I thought he referred to 
 me, it applied so well ; it may occur to others 
 that he referred to them. 
 
 " That is the reason love is so unsatisfactory ; 
 it is helpless in misfortune, and is not a thing 
 you can go to in trouble. It is well enough 
 in a time of peace, but a little adversity 
 causes it to fly away in search of bright days 
 and moonlight nights ; that is the reason I 
 am ashamed of being in love. I would not 
 feel more disgusted with myself were I a firm 
 believer in Santa Claus, in spite of the knowl 
 edge that all other men had outgrown the 
 pleasant delusion with their childhood. I have 
 been trying to become fond of Margaret; if I 
 succeed, I hope she will confess to me that 
 she is a widow ; a widow is a cynic on the 
 subject of love, and will give a husband a 
 chance. But should I marry Margaret and find 
 her a maid, she would contrast me, as a 
 matter-of-fact husband, with the lover she was 
 
306 A MAN STORY. 
 
 most fond of, and I would be in competition 
 with a god, and fail. Had Margaret married 
 the lover she was most fond of as a girl, she 
 would have discovered how little there is in 
 love ; I think her present good sense must be 
 due to the fact that she is a widow. A young 
 wife is forever rinding you out; without mean 
 ing to be deceitful, you lead her to believe 
 that you are better than you are, from a 
 mingled sense of hope for the future, and a 
 determination to do better than you have done; 
 but a widow has the charity that contact with 
 the world alone can give, and is not surprised 
 if she does find you out. Margaret would ac 
 cept a husband just as he is. Where is the 
 old girl?" . 
 
 He got up from his chair, and went to 
 looking for Margaret, finding her at last on a 
 desk that stood in the room. 
 
 "She has scars all over her," he said, ex 
 amining the image critically ; " the widow evi 
 dently had a rough time with the lover she 
 thought most of. She would make some one 
 
MR. IIICKEY. 307 
 
 a good wife ; if I could get Mrs. Tom out 
 of my mind, I should propose myself. The 
 oftener a woman, has been in love, the more 
 pretty things she thinks of to say, every new 
 lover suggests something pretty, and she re 
 peats it to the next one. If Margaret could 
 speak, I have an idea she would make deli 
 cious love to me, since a woman thinks as 
 well of one man as of another. Mrs. Tom 
 used to smile so sweetly that it makes me 
 lonesome to think about it, but I remember 
 that she smiled at every one in exactly the 
 same way." 
 
 He talked a good deal about Margaret that 
 night, and once he startled me by referring 
 to Mrs. Barnaby in a rather surprising way. 
 Mrs. Barnaby had somehow discovered his 
 whereabouts, and written that she was anxious 
 to give him half the property in the City, 
 and although he had refused to take a penny 
 of it, feeling that he could excuse his con 
 duct better without it, he could not help ad 
 miring the spirit that prompted the offer; he 
 
308 A MAN STORY. 
 
 admired it so much, indeed, that he said he 
 sometimes thought that he would return to 
 the City, and offer to make up with Mrs. 
 Barnaby, and finish his life with her, as a 
 means of proving beyond any sort of question 
 that there was nothing in love. He still hated 
 her, he said, but his life in the City before 
 he knew Mrs. Tom had been no more dread 
 ful than his life away from it, now that he 
 had forever lost Mrs. Tom. 
 
 Besides, it would settle his misery, and he 
 would have no more ridiculous dreams of pos 
 sible content in the future ; a form of dream 
 ing he could not avoid. He had thought quite 
 seriously of the Mrs. Barnaby proposition, he 
 said, and seemed so much in earnest that I 
 was uneasy; but he said later that he was 
 afraid to approach her on the subject, as he 
 felt certain that she would drive him out of 
 the house. He talked about the matter so 
 much and so seriously that I came to believe 
 that had Mrs. Barnaby called upon him, and 
 proposed a reconciliation, he would have ac- 
 
MR. HICKEY. 309 
 
 cepted the offer, simply as a means of getting 
 rid of his hope of more peace in the future, 
 which he believed to be only a foolish fancy, 
 but which he could not get rid of, and which 
 caused him much unrest. 
 
 When I left him he was examining Mar 
 garet for fresh evidence that she had been ill- 
 treated by the lover she had once worshipped, 
 and finally married, and the surprising number 
 of bruises and scars he found seemed to con 
 vince him that all those who fell in love 
 suffered for it. 
 
310 A MAN STORY. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 A MAN S STORY. 
 
 Six months after I arrived in Hooper I 
 received a letter one morning from Mrs. Tom, 
 saying she was coming to see me within a 
 few days. Immediately on the receipt of her 
 letter I went to the hotel to arrange for her 
 entertainment, and found that she had arrived 
 a half hour before, and the hotel people were 
 on the point of sending out for me when I 
 appeared. 
 
 She told me, after we were seated in the 
 hotel parlor, that she had long suspected that 
 I was with Uncle Tom, and that she had made 
 the journey it was an important journey to 
 Mrs. Tom, who was not accustomed to travel 
 ling in the hope of seeing him, and that she 
 knew before I appeared that the belief that her 
 husband was in Hooper was right, for the hotel 
 
A MAN S STORY. 311 
 
 people had told her that I was employed by 
 my uncle, Tom Saulsbury, and that she had 
 heard them tell the messenger to look for me 
 at his place. So the secret was out, and I 
 told her that I would announce her arrival to 
 Uncle Tom, which arrangement she consented 
 to with a gasping for breath, which indicated 
 that she was excited. 
 
 Mrs. Tom was looking a little paler than 
 when I had seen her last, and was still timid 
 and nervous, as though she had committed a 
 great sin for which she greatly desired forgive 
 ness, but in all other respects she was so much 
 like her old self that it did me good to see 
 her. 
 
 She had been quite economical with her money, 
 it seemed, for everything she had on I had seen 
 before, and her baggage consisted of a very 
 small and modest hand-bag, which she hoped 
 would not be stolen. I was quite proud of 
 her appearance till I remembered that no one 
 appreciated Mrs. Tom until they had known 
 her awhile, but as I walked back to the store 
 
312 A MAN STORY. 
 
 I thought no one could fail to admire such a 
 neat, pretty woman as she was, even at first 
 glance. 
 
 I told Uncle Tom as calmly as I could that 
 Mrs. Tom was at the hotel, and wished to see 
 him, if he could make it convenient; and he 
 said of course he would see her, with as little 
 emotion as he might have shown in quoting the 
 price of an article in his store. 
 
 This was not very encouraging, but I noticed 
 that his manner changed at once, and that he 
 did whatever he was about with a nervousness 
 which he could not control. 
 
 He said he had a number of letters to write 
 before he could call at the hotel with me, and 
 while he was about it in the office at the rear 
 of the store I sat down near him, and waited, 
 and he kept up his studied indifference by ask 
 ing me, as he folded letter after letter, how Joe 
 Tack s saw-mill enterprise was flourishing, how 
 Mrs. Footit was, arid how my grandfathers 
 were, supposing Mrs. Tom had already told me 
 the gossip of Fog Lake. I remarked this par- 
 
A MAN S STORY. 313 
 
 ticularly, because when I had called on him in 
 the City he did not speak to me for hours at 
 a time, but now he was anxious to be polite, 
 precisely as he would have been polite to any 
 one, and I feared that he would be equally 
 indifferent to Mrs. Tom; he would apply his 
 new rule to her, and treat her with the 
 same politeness he would a farmer s wife with 
 eggs to sell. 
 
 He had a list of the letters he was to write, 
 and checked them off as he went along, and 
 just before beginning the last one he asked 
 me to step over to the hotel and say to Mrs. 
 Tom that he desired to meet her easily and 
 without restraint, as he might a casual ac 
 quaintance; and as the hotel was only a little 
 way from the store, I had performed the 
 errand and returned before he had entirely 
 finished the last letter. As soon as this was 
 enclosed in an envelope and directed, he put 
 on his hat, and went out with me, stopping 
 at the post-office on his way, where he mailed 
 his letters, and looked over the mail in his 
 
314 A MAN STORY. 
 
 box with an air of business concern. Indeed, 
 I expected him to return to the store at once, 
 and answer the letters he had found in his 
 box, but he did not, and walked with me 
 toward the hotel, speaking politely and pleas 
 antly to those he met, and stopping to talk 
 to a few of them, but always on business.. 
 
 Arriving at the hotel, he lingered a moment 
 at the entrance to say a word to the propri 
 etor, something he had been inquiring for had 
 arrived at the store, and then went on upstairs 
 to the parlor, where I had told him Mrs. Tom 
 was waiting. 
 
 At sight of him Mrs. Tom showed signs of 
 breaking down, but only for a moment, for 
 Uncle Tom greeted her with a quiet uncon 
 cern that would have restored any one, as 
 he might have greeted a friend s wife whom 
 he knew but slightly, an acquaintance of a 
 month, or a stranger who had business with 
 him. He must have known that she had 
 come to Hooper particularly to see him; but 
 he inquired if she had been delayed there, 
 
A MAN S STORY. 315 
 
 and when she was going on ; to all of which 
 Mrs. Tom replied in the simplest way: she 
 had not been delayed; she would return home 
 that night, and was not going on, etc. The 
 conversation between them was easy and nat 
 ural, much more so than I had imagined pos 
 sible ; and I remember the first thing said was, 
 ."How do you do?" from Uncle Tom, to 
 which Mrs. Tom replied that she was quite 
 well. For a moment it seemed out of place 
 to me that two old friends as they were 
 should be so constrained; but in a little while 
 they acted quite naturally, and Uncle Tom 
 spoke of their past at considerable length, 
 Mrs. Tom looking at him, and listening with 
 her old veneration, to which had been added 
 a touching timidity. 
 
 "There is one part of my life that I want 
 to tell you," Uncle Tom said, " as much in 
 justice to you as to myself, and you will 
 excuse me, I hope, if I seem to make a long 
 story of it. I will also speak plainly of mat 
 ters which might once have been disagreeable 
 
316 A MAN STORY. 
 
 to both of us, because of an unwise senti 
 mentality, but which we may now speak of 
 with as little concern as we might refer to 
 the foolish fancies of our youth. 
 
 "Mrs. Barnaby was a handsome girl, as she 
 is still a handsome woman, and I imagined I 
 was in love with her. I never imagined I 
 loved her as much as I know I loved you, 
 but as is usual with very young men when 
 concerned in an affair of this kind, I believed 
 that Mrs. Barnaby as a girl was a sort of 
 angel who had none of the human weaknesses 
 I despised in myself. Young men of little ex 
 perience are apt to make this mistake ; but 
 when I loved you I knew as much of women 
 as men ever know, and I am certain I thought 
 more of you, though I knew you to be a 
 woman, than I ever did of Mrs. Barnaby, 
 though I believed her to be an angel. There 
 was this difference between my love for you 
 and my love for Mrs. Barnaby : I knew you, 
 and I didn t know her; but I suppose I loved 
 Mrs. Barnaby, an I believe I was proud of 
 
A MAN S STORY. 317 
 
 the alliance I made with her. An hour before 
 we were married, however, she displeased me 
 and became displeased herself because anything 
 she should do should offend me. We have 
 never recovered from that quarrel; we both 
 promised to love and honor with the mental 
 reservation that the other must first give in. 
 
 " The stubbornness which I practised then 
 was wicked, and I paid the penalty by lead 
 ing a wretched life, but it was my nature, 
 and young men are more apt to be foolishly 
 stubborn than those who are older and wiser. 
 When I came to you I was so much wiser 
 that nothing could have induced me to be 
 stubborn again, knowing the penalty, but I 
 had gone so far that a reconciliation was im 
 possible. I hated her, and she knew it; she 
 hated me, and I knew it. 
 
 " In course of time I resolved upon a legal 
 separation. I would not speak to her about 
 i<, as we had lived apart, and not spoken to 
 each other, for years, so I took the necessary 
 step to secure a legal resylence in the State 
 
318 A MAN STORY. 
 
 where you lived, intending to commence pro 
 ceedings there for a divorce ; I imagined that 
 this would avoid publicity, which I dreaded, 
 and did it with good intentions. 
 
 "After securing the legal residence you may 
 not have known before that I owned a small 
 business in a town near Fog Lake, which 
 I operated by means of an agent the divorce 
 proceedings were commenced, and all the 
 forms honestly complied with. Notice was sent 
 to Mrs. Barnaby by mail, as the law required, 
 and, as she made no reply, I supposed she 
 believed, as I did, that a divorce was the 
 best thing possible in our case. We were 
 hopelessly estranged, and there was no reason 
 why she should not agree to it, for none of 
 my allegations were discreditable to her, and 
 I had no intention of wronging her in any 
 way. 
 
 " During this time I lived under the same 
 roof with her when in the City, and saw her 
 occasionally, but she never spoke to me nor I 
 to her. 
 
A MAN S STORY. 319 
 
 "In course of time the trial came on, and, 
 as she made no defence, the divorce was granted. 
 I never suspected that she did not have full 
 knowledge of the proceedings, and, when I re 
 turned to the City, I imagined that we would 
 get together in course of time, and amicably 
 divide our possessions in the presence of 
 mutual friends. But she was out of town, and 
 did not return for several months, which I 
 accepted as further evidence that she was 
 content with what I had done. 
 
 " I need not speak of my meeting with 
 you, further than that I first met you after 
 the divorce was granted, and while in Fog 
 Lake on a hunting expedition. Your uncle 
 simply knew that I was from the City, and, 
 with a view of inducing me to invest in some 
 of his schemes, he showed me rather marked 
 attention; indeed, he invited me to his house, 
 where I saw a quiet girl whom they tried to 
 keep out of the way as much as possible. 
 They regarded you of so little importance that 
 they did not even introduce me to you, 
 
320 A MAN STORY. 
 
 though we became acquainted, and you inter 
 ested me, and after that I made regular trips 
 to Fog Lake when there was no fishing or 
 shooting. You remember all that; but you 
 may not remember that the people made un 
 kind remarks concerning my attentions to you, 
 believing me to be an adventurer, and this 
 was one reason why I proposed that we be 
 married in such haste; and another reason 
 was that I found in you the woman I wanted. 
 Your gentle amiability and your great confi 
 dence in me were delightful revelations after 
 my harsh experiences with life, and I became 
 hopelessly infatuated with the magic of your 
 presence ; your gentle voice soothed the war 
 in my heart, and your soft touch lulled me 
 into a sense of peace I had never known 
 before. 
 
 "I did wrong in not telling you of Mrs. 
 Barnaby, but it was not a pleasant subject, 
 and I kept putting it off; perhaps I did 
 wrong in marrying you so hastily, but my 
 coming to see you so often attracted unfavor- 
 
A MAN S STORY. 321 
 
 able comment, and we were married on an 
 hour s notice. 
 
 " I pretended to be a travelling salesman 
 for Barnaby & Co. originally to prevent your 
 uncle buying goods of me, for I imagined we 
 did not want his trade ; so you married me with 
 that impression. I kept the secret at first 
 with the hope of giving you a pleasant sur 
 prise, and was always planning to take you 
 to a home in the City, where you would 
 discover that I was more of a man than even 
 you had imagined in your palatable charity. 
 
 " When I returned home after our marriage 
 I found to my dismay and horror that Mrs. 
 Barnaby had also returned from one of her long 
 visits among friends, and that she professed 
 never to have heard of the divorce proceed 
 ings. She made the announcement by burst 
 ing into my room with the ferocity of a tiger, 
 and accused me of duplicity, dishonor, and 
 meanness. I procured affidavits showing that 
 notice had been sent her as the law required, 
 but, as she was away from home a good deal, 
 
322 A MAN STORY. 
 
 the papers had been mislaid, and had only 
 turned up recently. Their turning up at all 
 was the best evidence possible that I had acted 
 honestly and in good faith, but she would not 
 so see it, and believed that I had wronged her. 
 " For years before that we had not spoken, 
 but regularly after this she came into my 
 room and reproached me in the most cruel 
 manner. At first I tried to convince her that 
 it was for the best ; that, since I had not 
 endeavored to take advantage of her property 
 right, there was no reason why she should 
 complain, even though she had been tricked, 
 for she must admit that we would never live 
 together, and would be better off apart; but 
 nothing that I could say did any good, and 
 she announced one night that she would com 
 mence proceedings to set the divorce aside. 
 I then made an appeal to her so strong that 
 I shall always hate her because it did not 
 move her, but she rejoiced in my misery, and 
 commenced the suit, using my means to hu 
 miliate and injure me. 
 
A MAN S STORY. 323 
 
 " I had the best of it from the first, for 
 all my proceedings had been honestly con 
 ducted, but she had capable attorneys in her 
 employ, who managed to prevent a decision. 
 I won in the court which originally granted 
 the divorce, because the officers themselves 
 knew I had not acted in a deceptive manner ; 
 I clearly established that the notice required 
 by law had been given, but the other side 
 took an appeal to a higher and slower court. 
 
 "I do not think she suspected that I had 
 married again, but it is possible that she be 
 lieved I had such an intention, so she pro 
 tracted the suit, and the expenses were enor 
 mous, as I had reason to know, for I was 
 compelled to pay the bills. 
 
 "All this time I was your husband, and, 
 in spite of the uncomfortable condition of my 
 affairs, I loved you so much, and you were 
 so useful to me, that I was more content 
 than I had ever been before. I occasionally 
 had pangs of remorse because I did not tell 
 you of my situation, but I believed you had 
 
324 A MAN STORY. 
 
 the utmost confidence in me, and so I re 
 solved that I would not make the disclosure 
 until after the matter was decided in my 
 favor, as I was certain it would be. My 
 judgment was right; the final decision was 
 rendered a month ago, and the original decree 
 was declared legal and valid; you were an 
 honorable wife." 
 
 Mrs. Tom made a move as if she would go 
 to her husband, but he held up his hand in 
 remonstrance. 
 
 "During all this time I staked my hope of 
 the future on your confidence in me, which 
 you so often expressed, but at the critical 
 moment it failed you. You were like many 
 other women: you were human, although you 
 often seemed divine. All the humiliation Mrs. 
 Barnaby heaped upon me in years did not 
 equal the humiliation you heaped upon me in 
 a moment by refusing to see me, and hear 
 what I had to say. Although you never said 
 so, I had no doubt you would have given 
 your life to me ; it was my fault that I for- 
 
A MAN S STORY. 325 
 
 got your humanity, and believed that for once 
 this lover s declaration was true. I believed 
 that had I hoisted a window in a high build 
 ing, and said that it was necessary for you to 
 jump out, you would have said a hurried 
 good-by to me, and plunged out without the 
 slightest hesitation. 
 
 "It was my fault that I had such con 
 fidence in your trust in me ; my better sense 
 should have taught me that you were only a 
 woman, after all. During that walk through 
 the woods, when Mrs. Barnaby was accusing 
 me at every step of meanness and villany, I 
 boasted of your confidence in me, and said 
 that when she saw you, she would see a 
 woman a man could love and die for. It was 
 the first time I ever boasted in my life, and 
 Mrs. Barnaby was present to see my humilia 
 tion. 
 
 "Although I pretended that I did not, I 
 believed all you ever said to me during our 
 love affair, and all that your actions implied. 
 I knew from long experience with the world 
 
326 A MAN STORY. 
 
 what a mythical thing love is. The best of 
 women have numerous love affairs before they 
 finally marry and settle down, and no one 
 knew better than I did that they repeated the 
 same story to the second, third, or fourth 
 fancy that had delighted the first : that he 
 was handsome, brave, generous, and talented; 
 that she could not live without him ; that she 
 would cheerfully die to serve him ; that life 
 was a burden without him, and a joy with 
 him; that there was but one true love, and 
 that he had hers, I knew this because it 
 was human nature, and human nature never 
 changes; but notwithstanding this knowledge, 
 and the knowledge that the men are still 
 worse, I believed all you said to me, and 
 cherished the memory of it. 
 
 " There was one difference between me and 
 the ordinary lover: when you said I was brave, 
 and handsome, and good, I knew better, but 
 I thought it had pleased God to send me a 
 wife who really thought so, and I did all I 
 could to deserve your good opinion. The good 
 
A MAN S STORY. 327 
 
 things you believed of me did me no harm, 
 but I tried so hard to deserve them that they 
 made me better. There are moments when the 
 strongest men become children again ; I once 
 knew a baby that would cry when any one 
 said it was a bad boy, and try to deserve 
 the confidence of the friend who insisted that 
 he was really a good boy. There is not as 
 much difference between a man and a child 
 as is generally believed. 
 
 " I refused to live with Mrs. Barnaby be 
 cause I hated her, and she hated me, and 
 because I knew my humiliation would be con 
 stant should I pretend to forget the past, 
 knowing that she would still entertain the 
 unfavorable opinion of me she had so often 
 expressed. I refuse to live with you because 
 I love you, and because I believe that while 
 I married you as I would have married no 
 other woman, and from motives of the purest 
 love, you married me because it seemed to 
 your interest, and as you would have married 
 any other man who promised fairly well. 
 
328 A MAN STORY. 
 
 This would be on my mind constantly, and I 
 should feel humiliated by the recollection when 
 ever I thought of you; the pretty things you 
 might say and do in the future I should re 
 gard as duty, with the unsteady foundation 
 which I have discovered that love rests upon. 
 Perhaps you will better understand me if I 
 say that I so long believed you to be an ideal 
 woman that I cannot bring myself to the 
 realization that, after all, you are a real human 
 woman ; I was so utterly spoilt during my 
 infatuation that I would not be satisfied with 
 you now. I fear that the sad experience of 
 Old Barnaby and Mrs. Barnaby would be re 
 peated ; so I have determined to live by a 
 new philosophy, the philosophy of common 
 sense, based on a knowledge of human nature. 
 In future I shall love the book, or house, or 
 horse I otvn, precisely as much as I love my 
 friends and acquaintances ; I shall love the 
 houses and horses more, for while my friends 
 are certain to disappoint me, the horses and 
 houses never will, for I shall expect nothing 
 
A MAN S STORY. 329 
 
 from them. Another disappointment of the kind 
 I had with you would kill me ; I cannot 
 afford to fall in love again. At present I love 
 you as much as I ever did, but I shall no 
 doubt get over it." 
 
 It was plain to be seen that he had been 
 having a weary time trying to get over his 
 love for Mrs. Tom; his manner indicated it, 
 but his manner also indicated that he would 
 keep on trying. 
 
 Mrs. Tom heard the story through as a 
 wretched prisoner might hear his condemna 
 tion to death ; she did not move or speak, but 
 there was an expression of helpless sorrow on 
 her face that was pitiful to see. When she 
 did speak it was as a condemned prisoner 
 might address a just judge, and excuse his 
 crime as much as possible. 
 
 "I shall return home to-night," she said, 
 "and spend my life in praying for your for 
 giveness, and in praying that you will take 
 me back. I believe I can understand why 
 you feel so bitter toward me, for I can never 
 
330 A MAN STORY. 
 
 hope to convince you that you had the trust 
 and confidence from me that you once be 
 lieved you had. When they told me that you 
 had sent for me, and were in trouble, my 
 strength left me ; but it was all because of 
 the trouble you were in; as I live, I never 
 once thought of myself; never have I doubted 
 that you were right. When I started just now 
 at your announcement that I was an honor 
 able wife, it was because of joy that my 
 opinion of you had turned out true; it was 
 joy over my husband s triumph ; I cared 
 nothing for myself; if you were ever so 
 wrong, I should ask no greater blessing than 
 that you take me back. If you should tell 
 me you were wrong, I should believe in secret 
 that you were right, and that you manfully 
 accepted a burden to which you were not en 
 titled. You used to say you were glad I 
 didn t know anything; I had hoped that this 
 feeling might cause you to excuse my not 
 knowing what to do at a critical time, but I 
 feel now that you never will, though I do not 
 
A MAN S STORY. 331 
 
 blame you. Everything you do seems right to 
 me; it has always seemed so. I shall always 
 feel as kindly toward you, and love you as 
 much as though you had taken me back. 
 Won t you kiss me once more?" 
 
 She looked up at him timidly out of her 
 soft eyes, which were full of tears, and Uncle 
 Tom stepped over and did as he was re 
 quested. 
 
 "Thank you," she said, brightening a little, 
 as he sat down nearer to her. "I know that 
 I wronged you at the most critical time in 
 your life, but I did not intend to." 
 
 "I covet your good opinion as much as I 
 ever did," he said, " and it pleases me to 
 know that you think I am right, though I 
 am not. There are men who are unjust to 
 the \vomen they love because injustice delights 
 them, but I hope you will acquit me of that; 
 my stubbornness is monstrous, I know, though 
 I cannot help it. I wonder that I hold you 
 responsible for my humiliation, for when I 
 forget that, you are more to me now than 
 
332 A MAN STORY. 
 
 you ever were ; I have been so restless of late 
 that even yonr presence in the town rests me. 
 I should have known of your arrival had I 
 not been told of it; you change the air about 
 you, I think, and it does me good to breathe 
 it. But after you are gone, my sober sense 
 will tell me that I drank the draught that 
 intoxicated me, and then praised it. I believe 
 that it is for the best that we never live to 
 gether again. I wronged you in not telling 
 you of Mrs. Barnaby, and you can never for 
 get it; you may think you have forgotten it, 
 but really you have not, and you never can. 
 No amount of apology or repentance ever 
 atones for a wrong you have suffered, and 
 while you did right in refusing to see me, I 
 was so firmly convinced that you would see 
 me, that I can never feel right about it again. 
 My stubbornness is more the recollection of a 
 wrong than a crime, though it is a crime 
 against myself; I sincerely hope that you do 
 not suffer because of it as I do. Were it not 
 cowardly I would kill myself to get rid of 
 
A MAN S STORY. 333 
 
 ray trouble. I try to be (Sensible, but I can 
 not; I can do no better than I am doing, and 
 I could not do worse. I find that the spark 
 of love you kindled into a flame is as stub 
 born as my hate for Mrs. Barnaby was; surely 
 you cannot forgive that?" 
 
 "I never thought unkindly of you in my 
 life," Mrs. Tom answered; "I never shall." 
 
 "You are receiving but a wretched return 
 for your faith in me," he said in reply, 
 " though I once promised so much, and would 
 have fulfilled every promise had I not been 
 stunned by a hard blow. Let me say, in 
 order that you may better understand me, 
 that I cannot separate your motive from a 
 selfish one ; it seems to me you came here not 
 because you love me, as I once believed you 
 did, but because you felt that you would be 
 better off with me than you would be living 
 alone at Fog Lake. I want to believe that 
 you love me as I once thought you did, but 
 my own weakness causes me to doubt it. I 
 am willing to forgive your humanity, but the 
 
334 A MAN STORY. 
 
 ideal love I thought I possessed was so grate 
 ful and helpful to me that I can never be 
 satisfied with any other. I am not a good 
 man, but somehow I think I am, and mourn 
 because others are not equally honest and sin 
 cere. I cannot separate you from the world, 
 as I once did, and the attention I should 
 pay you in the future would seem the atten 
 tion of a silly man to an idol in which he 
 was mistaken. I once thought your love was 
 worth all my energy, but I should now feel 
 like a victim; like a man who is always giv 
 ing and never receiving. 
 
 "I could do that with Chance, but with you, 
 the one I love most in all the world, I could 
 not ; it is one of the strange things of that 
 which we call love. It is horrible to say it, 
 but while I have forgiven Mrs. Barnaby, 
 whom I hated, I cannot forgive you, whom I 
 love, though I hope you will be as charita 
 ble with me as you can. It does not seem 
 possible that I can ever become indifferent to 
 you, but I really believe that I shall ; I believe 
 
A MAN S STORY. 335 
 
 that you will become indifferent to me, arid 
 that we will both agree after a time that we 
 were wise in not attempting to live together 
 again. A love affair once seriously interfered 
 with can never be entirely made up; love is 
 such a tender flower that when it is wounded, 
 either by accident or design, it can never be 
 strong again. Good-by." 
 
 Quickly catching her face in his hands, he 
 kissed her lips, and was gone. 
 
 Mrs. Tom believed he had left the place 
 for good, and would never return, as he had 
 steadily refused to return to the City, and I 
 went out to look for him. He was not to be 
 found, but I assured her that he would return 
 after her departure. It was a cruel thing to 
 say, but I did not think how it sounded 
 until Mrs. Tom s sobbing reminded me. 
 
 But she knew it was true, and made prep 
 arations to depart. 
 
 The train she was to take was not due 
 for an hour or more, and we walked around 
 awhile, passing the store and the house, both 
 
336 A MAN STORK 
 
 of which she looked at admiringly, because 
 they belonged to him. I wanted her to go in 
 the house, but she would not, though she 
 was interested when I pointed out the window 
 where he usually sat at night, and looked 
 toward Fog Lake. I was sorry I could not 
 point out the pathway of stars, which could 
 always be seen at night, and she said she 
 would try to find it after her return home. 
 
 She cried a little after I had seated her 
 in one of the cars, when the train arrived, 
 but she was more cheerful when I said I was 
 coming to see her soon, though I detected a 
 little sob when she finally said .good-by. 
 
 Uncle Tom did not return that night, but 
 from his window I saw the stars in the 
 pathway come out one by one, and felt that 
 he was watching it, as though Mrs. Tom 
 was really travelling it on her weary journey 
 home. 
 
A BAD NIGHT. 337 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 A BAD NIGHT. 
 
 UNCLE TOM was at the store as usual next 
 morning, and while I thought he had been 
 watching for me to appear, he said nothing of 
 the events of the day before. I did not know 
 where he had spent the night, but I imag 
 ined, from the large number of letters for 
 the mail that morning, that he had spent 
 much of the time in writing to customers, 
 and calling their personal attention to his 
 facilities for supplying their wants. 
 
 It may have been the result of a bad 
 night, but I thought he looked unusually 
 pale that day, and this caused me to wonder 
 if he had not been failing for some time, as 
 a result of the wretched way in which he 
 lived, and the too vigorous manner in which 
 he worked. But he seemed determined to 
 
338 A MAN STORY. 
 
 shake it off, for I had never before seen 
 him so interested in his business. He re 
 ceived almost every customer that came in, 
 and tried to become as much interested in 
 them as he was in Mrs. Tom, and inquired 
 with the greatest cordiality after absent ac 
 quaintances ; but for all this I knew he 
 spent a wretched day. 
 
 He went to sleep in his chair that night, 
 and when I looked into his room before re 
 tiring, I saw his face was flushed and fever 
 ish, and that he was breathing rapidly. In 
 the middle of the night he awakened me, 
 and said he believed he was ill, and asked 
 me to to do him some small favor. In 
 rambling about the house I disturbed the 
 sleep of old Archie, and when I told him what 
 I wanted, and why I wanted it, he commenced 
 grumbling because of Uncle Tom s refusal to 
 take certain bitters he had offered him several 
 months before. The old negro, I then dis 
 covered, had noticed his master s tendency 
 to break down some time before, and he 
 
A BAD NIGHT. 339 
 
 grumbled around most of the night because 
 his advice had not been taken sooner. 
 
 He appeared at the store at rather a late 
 hour the next morning, but did not remain 
 long, and soon wrapped himself up and re 
 turned home, walking away in a manner so 
 weak and unsteady that it was surprising in 
 one usually so strong. 
 
 At the close of the day, when 1 followed 
 him, he talked quite freely of his condition, 
 and expressed the opinion that it was due 
 to his inability to sleep. Many nights, he 
 said, he did not close his eyes at all, and 
 he had not slept soundly for a long time. 
 He had been talking with a medical man 
 during the day, who had advised him that 
 he needed rest. 
 
 "But the trouble is," Uncle Tom said, 
 "I cannot take it. I wish I could go back 
 to Fog Lake ; I would soon rest up in the 
 company of Mrs. Tom." 
 
 This was a matter of wonder to me, and I 
 could make nothing of it; he said he could 
 
340 A MAN STORY. 
 
 soon rest up in the company of Mrs. Tom, 
 yet he had just sent Mrs. Tom away. But 
 I have heard men say that much that was 
 strange to them in their youth was perfectly 
 plain in their manhood. 
 
 He was quite cheerful about the matter, 
 though, further than that he said he had a 
 horror of being alone at night, so I arranged 
 with old Archie to remain with him until 
 one o clock in the morning, when he was to 
 call me, and I would remain until daylight, 
 or until he fell asleep. He did not know of 
 the arrangement, but he seemed glad to have 
 even old Archie with him, for as I tried to 
 get to sleep in an adjoining room I heard 
 them talking of old times in Virginia, where 
 Archie had been a slave, and where he had 
 seen spirits, and all that sort of thing. 
 Archie had been a good man himself, I 
 gathered from their talk, but there was a 
 certain slave man on the plantation where he 
 was brought up who ran away whenever 
 there was the slightest opportunity, whereupon 
 
A BAD NIGHT. 341 
 
 the dogs were brought out to chase him, and 
 the dogs were baying in a peculiar way at 
 the foot of a tree when I went to sleep. 
 I remember thinking, the last thing before 
 going to sleep, that I would ask Archie 
 in the morning whether the slave man had 
 really climbed the tree, and what happened 
 to him when he was returned home. 
 
 When I awoke again I had a consciousness of 
 having been called, and that it was time for me 
 to relieve old Archie. I listened for a moment, 
 and discovered that the slave man was probably 
 gone for good, for the men and dogs had re 
 turned from the hunt, thoroughly disheartened. 
 
 Suddenly the conversation changed, and 
 Uncle Tom asked the negro if he had ever 
 been in love. Old Archie almost suffocated 
 himself with laughter in replying that he had 
 been, often, and that he had been married 
 five times. Uncle Tom asked him why he 
 laughed at the thought of having been in love ; 
 and though the negro could not tell why he 
 laughed, he continued to be greatly amused. 
 
342 A MAN STORY. 
 
 Which wife had he loved the most? all 
 about the same, old Archie thought ; since he 
 hoped to meet them all in heaven (old Archie 
 was religious), which one did he intend to 
 spend most of his time with ? he didn t know 
 for sure, but he expected it was Amanda ; 
 that would please Amanda, but how about the 
 other four ? the other four would have other 
 jewels to content them, probably; men jewels? 
 oh, no, precious jewels, to wear in their 
 crowns, for they had been fond of dress ; all 
 of them dead? no, none of them dead, so far 
 as he knew ; been divorced from them ? no, 
 from none of them ; intend to marry again ? 
 no, had enough of marrying ; any particular sad 
 experience? no, just had enough of marrying. 
 So the conversation went while I was dress 
 ing, and the subject remained in Uncle Tom s 
 mind after Archie had retired, for as he 
 walked around with a sheet about him he 
 could not remain in bed, and I was fearful 
 he would catch cold he continued to talk 
 of the same subject. 
 
A BAD NIGHT. 343 
 
 "I am only a remarkable man in one par 
 ticular," Uncle Tom said t after old Archie 
 had disappeared ; " I can laugh at my own 
 weaknesses. When I was living at Fog Lake, 
 and announced an intention of returning to my 
 work, Mrs. Tom had a way of saying, Don t 
 go, that touched my heart as it was never 
 touched before. There was a world of pathos, 
 regret, and unselfish love in the way she said 
 it, I thought, and I think I was prouder of 
 that than of anything else ; it indicated that 
 some one mourned my absence arid enjoyed 
 my presence. But one day Mrs. Tack called 
 at the house while I was at home, and when 
 she arose to depart, Mrs. Tom said, Don t 
 go, in exactly the same tones she had used 
 with me, although Mrs. Tack was the most 
 disagreeable person I ever knew ; Mrs. Tom 
 so considered her, I think. I never mentioned 
 it before, but that was the grief of my life 
 with Mrs. Tom. It was ridiculous in me, but 
 I mourned a great deal over that foolish 
 thing ; after it happened, I hated the man 
 
344 A MAN STORY. 
 
 Mrs. Tom might have married had I not 
 appeared. But for this circumstance I would 
 have forgiven Mrs. Tom that night when I 
 carried her in my arms in the woods, and 
 when she kept saying, Don t go ; don t 
 go. It is brutal for me to feel as I do 
 concerning a little matter, but I am help 
 less, though I hate myself for it. When I 
 think how forgiving Mrs. Tom is, and how 
 good she is, and how stubborn I am, I fear 
 that I am a very wicked man. Did you 
 notice when she said the other day that her 
 distress over this affair was largely due to 
 the circumstance that I was wretched too? 
 Very few women would have thought of that; 
 Mrs. Barnaby always thought she was a 
 martyr, and that I enjoyed making her 
 wretched." 
 
 His speaking of the plaintive manner in 
 which Mrs. Tom had said, " Don t go," 
 reminded me of her as she wandered about 
 in the Brooper Woods, calling, " Tom, Tom, 
 Tom," and I mentioned the matter. He had 
 
A BAD NIGHT. 345 
 
 heard her, he said, the night he appeared to 
 her, when he happened to be making the 
 same walk he made with Mrs. Barnaby, and 
 when he had little hope of seeing Mrs. Tom. 
 He was coming back because there was a 
 sort of terrible fascination in the vicinity, and 
 happened to meet us in the woods, soon 
 after we entered the main road after leaving 
 the stream leading from the water station. 
 Her calling him, he said, had caused him to 
 appear to her, but he afterwards thought she 
 might have called any one in the same way ; 
 he was ashamed of it, but he had thought of 
 it. 
 
 He was quite a grotesque object as he sat 
 in his chair, wrapped in a quilt, and with 
 wet cloths piled on his feverish head, and 
 when I offered him his medicine he refused 
 to take it, saying that it did him no good ; 
 his trouble, he said, could not be reached by 
 medicine ; what he needed was sleep and rest, 
 and that he could not get ; that was leading 
 him up to a spell of sickness, he feared, and 
 
346 A MAN STORY. 
 
 if Mrs. Barnaby heard of it, she would come 
 to see him. She knew where he was, and if 
 she heard he was very sick she would cer 
 tainly come to see him; and that would settle 
 it. She would make him worse, and kill him. 
 By her presence she would gloat over his 
 humiliation, and he could not stand that ; he 
 must get sleep ; he must have something to 
 make him sleep. 
 
 " Give me that bottle," he said, turning 
 around, and pointing to a stand which stood 
 in the room. "I ll try that." 
 
 I handed it to him, and he drank half the 
 strong brandy it contained at one draught. 
 Soon after he staggered over to the bed, and 
 laid down, and although he fell asleep I do 
 not think it rested him much, for he tossed 
 about, and occasionally sat up, and glared 
 wildly around, as though he had been dream 
 ing of unpleasant things. Lying down again, 
 he would say he was tired, and must sleep. 
 Once he cried out, as I have heard children 
 cry out in alarm, in the night, and when he 
 
A BAD NIGHT. 347 
 
 sprang up he asked roughly what I was 
 doing there ; but when he recognized me, he 
 laid down again. He was so much worse 
 that I should have sent for the doctor had I 
 not known that he was due in a little while, 
 for daybreak was close at hand, and the stars 
 in the pathway were disappearing. I feared 
 that Uncle Tom was seriously ill; I could not 
 help knowing it, for I now realized that it 
 had been coming on for months as a result 
 of his nervous unrest, and I thought that 
 after he had grown steadily worse, and 
 suffered a great deal, I should stand in the 
 gray of the morning at the window where he 
 usually sat, and remark that the stars in the 
 pathway had disappeared, and then turn to 
 find Uncle Tom dead. 
 
348 A MAN STORY. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 AN ANTE-MORTEM STATEMENT. 
 
 UNCLE TOM S condition was so much worse 
 the next day that I arranged to remain 
 with him constantly, and though the clerks 
 from the store occasionally called in the even 
 ing to see him, they did not remain long, 
 and I had almost the entire care, with the 
 assistance of the negro Archie, who was very 
 faithful and useful, except for his grumbling 
 because of Uncle Tom s failure to take the 
 magic bitters he had prepared some time be 
 fore. 
 
 The doctor we had called was evidently 
 puzzled by the case, and while he was study 
 ing it he acted as though he thought that 
 nothing serious was the matter, but when he 
 finally confessed to me that Uncle Tom was 
 suffering from a low fever, and I told him of 
 
AN ANTE-MORTEM STATEMENT. 349 
 
 his restlessness and sleeplessness, he seemed to 
 understand it better. 
 
 In watching with him at night, when he was 
 quiet I occasionally went to sleep, but on 
 awakening I always found him wide-awake; 
 sometimes sitting in the chair in front of the 
 window looking toward Fog Lake, and wrapped 
 in the bed-clothing ; at other times I found 
 him unsteadily walking the floor; but he was 
 always awake except when under the influence 
 of opiates, and I often thought that he was 
 quiet at times to permit me to go off to sleep. 
 He often said that he would soon be well 
 again if he could sleep as easily as I did, and, 
 on realizing that his great need was rest, he 
 took doses of the opiates the doctor had left, 
 in spite of my advice to the contrary, for I 
 thought they did him more harm than good; 
 he always seemed worse after taking them, and 
 tossed about and muttered more than ever. 
 
 At these times he was always reviewing his 
 case with Mrs. Barnaby; he was anxious to 
 make her understand that he had not tried to 
 
350 A MAN STORY. 
 
 wrong her, and that he wanted to do that 
 which was best for both of them. I thought 
 he dreaded her hatred, and his explanations 
 were at times pitiful ; he dreaded the thought 
 that he was dying, and could not convince the 
 world that he had never deserved the horrible 
 opinions she had so often expressed of him, 
 and begged that she would be as fair with 
 him as he had been with her. He had made 
 mistakes; but could she not see that she should 
 share the blame? This was often expressed, 
 though in different ways ; he acknowledged his 
 wrong, but would she insist to the edge of his 
 grave that he was always wrong, and that she 
 was always right ? Would she not acknowledge, 
 to comfort his few friends, that there was at 
 least the excuse of long vexation for his acts? 
 He asked this as though he was her prisoner, 
 and as though she was looking at him fiercely, 
 with instruments of torture ready to her hand; 
 he was willing to die the death she willed, 
 but pitifully asked that she acknowledge her 
 share in the evil that had found its way into 
 
AN ANTE-MORTEM STATEMENT. 351 
 
 their lives. All this was muttered at intervals, 
 and with long pauses between the sentences ; 
 but I understood it, and felt that while Uncle 
 Tom was willing to acknowledge his own faults, 
 he would never believe that he was to blame 
 for more than half of that part of his life 
 that was shameful ; had his idol not left the 
 sanctuary to wander about calling pitifully for 
 help, to indicate that there was rain, and 
 cold, and sorrow, in his heaven, I thought his 
 confession to it would have been : I acknowledge 
 my fault; now let Mrs. Barnaby acknowledge 
 hers. 
 
 With the approach of day he would rest 
 better, and occasionally sleep quietly; but after 
 each tedious day his restlessness increased with 
 the going down of the sun, and I believed that 
 should he die it would be while under the 
 depressing influence of night; that his strength 
 would gradually leave him, by reason of his 
 bad nights, and finally he could no longer hold 
 out for the coming of the morning, and that 
 when the sun looked into his room it would 
 
352 A MAN STORY. 
 
 find him quiet at last, and that the coming of 
 night would not again disturb him. 
 
 One night he called for writing materials, 
 and wrote a long time while propped up in 
 bed, though slowly and with unsteady hand, 
 for he was rapidly losing his strength. When 
 the envelope was directed, I found it was for 
 Mrs. Barnaby, but Uncle Tom told me it was 
 not to be delivered until he was dead ; ho 
 left the letter with me, and trusted to me to 
 carry out his instructions. I read the letter, 
 and will submit it to the reader. It began 
 and ended as abruptly as I give it here, and 
 contained no signature : 
 
 "I believe I am fatally ill, and I write this 
 on what I regard as my death-bed ; if I am 
 called upon for an excuse of my conduct 
 toward you hereafter, this will represent me. 
 Our life together was a sickening failure, but 
 I have been no more to blame than you have 
 been. I acknowledge before all men, as I 
 shall acknowledge before my Creator, that my 
 conduct toward you was often wrong, and 
 
AN ANTE-MORTEM STATEMENT. 353 
 
 often monstrous in its wicked stubbornness, 
 but I declare now as my last declaration that 
 I could not help it ; your half of the blame 
 was conducted in a manner so distasteful to 
 me that I could not help acting as I did. 
 When I asked for bread, you gave me worse 
 than a stone, a blow, and so cunningly di 
 rected that it reached my tenderest part. In 
 the management of your half of the blame 
 you caused me to dread your presence so 
 much that my dread of death is not equal 
 to it. Much as I have reason to tremble 
 when I think of it, I shall enter the presence 
 of my final Judge with less dread than I could 
 enter a room in which you were, although I 
 have lived and will die by the belief that 
 you have no more to complain of than I 
 have. 
 
 "I have rooted out all the hatred there is 
 in my heart except that my last thought will 
 be that, while you were as much to blame as 
 I was, you demanded credit when you should 
 have asked forgiveness of God. I am dying, 
 
354 A MAN STORY. 
 
 but in acknowledging my own faults I cannot 
 forget yours, which have caused me so much 
 trouble. I ask forgiveness of God and man 
 for my many faults, but at your death you 
 will call upon God and man to witness the 
 death of a perfect woman. I forgive you for 
 everything else; you will die as you have lived, 
 believing that you were perfect, and that I am 
 possessed of the faults that will be charged 
 against us both." 
 
 He also told me about his business: how it 
 could be best closed up, and the proceeds 
 given to Mrs. Tom. He had intended to write 
 to Mrs. Tom, too, he said, but he did not 
 have the strength. I might carry his message 
 to her ; he loved her, though he did not know 
 why. She had failed him at a time when he 
 only asked the confidence he honestly deserved, 
 but he loved her in spite of it; he had tried 
 to forget her as hard as he had tried to sleep 
 during his illness, but he could not do either, 
 and was in a wretched situation. He had 
 brought sorrow into three lives : Mrs. Barnaby s, 
 
AN ANTE- MORTEM STATEMENT. 355 
 
 Mrs. Tom s, and" his own, and was paying the 
 penalty. 
 
 I think he made up his mind that night 
 that he was fatally ill, and although I was so 
 certain that he would not live through the 
 night that I sent for Hickey, to watch with 
 me, he was better again toward morning, as 
 though it had been determined by the Fates 
 that he should pay more dearly for the wrongs 
 he had inflicted upon others. 
 
356 A MAN STORY. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 THE BBEAK OF DAY. 
 
 UNCLE TOM had been sick two weeks, and 
 steadily growing worse, before I made up my 
 mind to send for Mrs. Tom; I felt that 
 something must be done, and I could think 
 of nothing else. During all of his sickness 
 he had constantly complained of his need of 
 rest, and for three days had been delirious. 
 I remembered how often he had said that Mrs. 
 Tom rested him when he was tired; he had 
 said that she changed the air , in Fog Lake 
 when she visited it, and I hoped it was for 
 the best ; I could think of nothing else. 
 
 During his delirium he was constantly de 
 manding that some one of whom he was afraid 
 be kept out of his room ; an unusual noise 
 below would cause him to sit up in bed, and 
 
THE BREAK OF DAY. 357 
 
 ask that the door be locked; and while I 
 thought he referred to Mrs. Barnaby, it some 
 times occurred to me that he wanted them both 
 to keep away ; that he had made up his mind 
 to die by his stubbornness, and get rid of the 
 weary task of living. Therefore I was not 
 sure that what I had done was right, and 
 during the night when I believed Mrs. Tom 
 was travelling toward us, and when Uncle Tom 
 seemed much worse, I watched the pathway of 
 stars, and it seemed to me that there was a 
 friendly glow all the way from Fog Lake to a 
 place directly over the window where I stood, 
 as though the stars were glad Mrs. Tom was 
 coming, and were lighting her on the way. 
 
 Providing she was a passenger on the train 
 I expected, Mrs. Tom would arrive a little 
 before three o clock in the morning, and at 
 times I feared Uncle Tom would never live to 
 see her. His breathing was quick, and the 
 old restlessness had become painful to see. 
 In tossing about he muttered of everything 
 that had ever concerned him, and when I 
 
358 A MAN STORY. 
 
 went to him his wasted appearance fright 
 ened me. He was constantly demanding that 
 the door be locked; I thought of the door 
 to his heart, which he had locked with bolts 
 and bars, and I wondered whether it could 
 ever be opened again. I had sent for the one 
 person in the world who held the key, and 
 hoped she could open the door so easily that 
 Uncle Tom would be benefited by the change. 
 
 Frequently he mentioned the failure his life 
 had been, and laughed in delirious glee, as 
 though his object had been to make it a 
 failure. He mentioned that he had no friends, 
 and that amused him; and altogether his talk 
 was so wild that I partook of his nervous 
 ness, and walked up and down the room in 
 strange excitement. It seemed a premonition 
 to me that I would receive a letter from Mrs. 
 Tom saying she would not come, and in that 
 event I could expect nothing but the worst ; 
 the awful time when Uncle Tom would rest. 
 
 The town was situated on a prairie river, 
 and the railroad followed its valley. Ten 
 
THE BREAK OF DAY. 359 
 
 minutes before the train was due, I could 
 see its approaching light, and I thought 
 with pleasure that it seemed in a tremendous 
 hurry; that the engine was running at a great 
 speed, and that it partook of my own im 
 patience ; this made me hope that Mrs. Tom 
 was a passenger on the train, and that her 
 coming would relieve me of worry and fear. 
 
 Occasionally the light disappeared behind a 
 hill, and when I saw it again, its haste seemed 
 to be increased, as though it had lost the road, 
 and was hurrying to ma ke up for lost time. 
 There was a long stretch of straight road near 
 the town, and when the light appeared upon 
 this, the rapid manner in which it approached 
 made me feel like cheering; the light had 
 caught sight of the town in which Uncle Tom 
 lived ; perhaps it could see the very house in 
 which he lay dying, and it seemed to be racing 
 with death to get there first. 
 
 When the train passed, on its way to the 
 station at the upper end of the town, I thought 
 I had never seen it run so rapidly, and I was 
 
A MAN STORY. 
 
 sure then that Mrs. Tom was a passenger; 
 the gentle Mrs. Tom had not lost a moment, 
 for she must have taken the train within an 
 hour after receiving the message; like the good 
 angel that she was, she had lost no time. 
 
 Old Archie was at the station with his 
 lantern to meet her, and soon I heard them 
 hurrying along, and I could detect a woman s 
 voice making anxious inquiries; I think I 
 never fully appreciated her goodness until I 
 realized how promptly she had answered my 
 summons, in spite of the neglect to which she 
 had been subjected ; but the magic music of her 
 voice was on the street, and would soon be in 
 the room. In thinking of what effect it would 
 have, I turned toward the bed, and found that 
 the sufferer was quiet, as though he already felt 
 the effect of Mrs. Tom s presence in the town. 
 
 When she came into the room, after a short 
 pause downstairs to collect herself, she was 
 very calm, I thought, and walked directly 
 over to the bed, and it so happened that 
 Uncle Tom turned his back to her, but he 
 
THE BREAK OF DAY. 361 
 
 was delirious, and did not know what he was 
 doing; I am sure of that, but for a moment 
 Mrs. Tom did not understand, and seemed 
 greatly hurt. She cried a little as she stood 
 smoothing his forehead, but soon passed into 
 another room to remove her wraps. 
 
 She had not spoken to me, but I did not 
 care for that, I was so anxious for her com 
 ing to prove a blessing. 
 
 Almost instantly Uncle Tom came to him 
 self, and looked at me with a vacant stare, 
 which soon became intelligent. 
 
 " Chance," he said, " you don t know how 
 much better I feel. Has anything happened?" 
 
 His wife was standing within a few feet of 
 him, listening, but I dared not confess yet, so 
 I answered, " No ; nothing has happened." 
 
 "If I did not know differently I should say 
 that Mrs. Tom was in the house. There is an 
 air around here that I used to notice when I 
 visited at your house in Fog Lake. That must 
 have been mighty good medicine the doctor left 
 last to have that eifect. I believe I m better." 
 
362 A MAN STORF. 
 
 He talked a little while in this strain, and 
 then went to sleep again, when Mrs. Toni 
 softly returned to his side. She seemed to 
 remember how well he used to rest with his 
 head in her lap, and raised his head and his 
 pillow until she held him in the old position, 
 which Uncle Tom always regarded as the 
 height of luxury. He seemed to relish the 
 change, even in his sleep, and looked as con 
 tented as he ever did at home, except that 
 his lips were parched and feverish. 
 
 Mrs. Tom occasionally moistened his lips and 
 softly stroked his hair and forehead, and this 
 seemed so grateful to him that he slept 
 soundly ; it was a refreshing sleep, this time, 
 I was sure. I believed that when he came 
 out of his peaceful, quiet sleep, he would be 
 on the road to recovery, and this was so con 
 soling that I dozed off myself, but when I 
 awoke Mrs. Tom was still softly stroking his 
 hair, and when she thought I was asleep I 
 saw her raise his pale hand to her lips ; I 
 did not doubt now that he would be glad 
 
THE BREAK OF DAT. 363 
 
 I had sent for his wife ; the influence she had 
 exerted over him already convinced me of this, 
 and I regretted I had not sent sooner. 
 
 I went to sleep again in my chair, and was 
 aroused, I don t know how long afterwards, 
 by a motion on the part of Uncle Tom. I was 
 so close to the bed that I could touch him, 
 and I saw that when he opened his eyes he 
 looked squarely into his wife s face, and that 
 he did not take his eyes from hers. 
 
 " Is it you, Mrs. Tom ? " he asked, with a 
 slight tremor and huskiness in his voice. 
 
 " Yes, dear Tom," she replied, in her sweet 
 voice, which thrilled me ; I don t know how 
 it affected him. 
 
 He looked at the footboard of the bed for 
 a while, and then clasped his hands back of his 
 head, as I had seen him do so often at home 
 when he was thoroughly comfortable ; while 
 he was thinking, I noticed that his lips trem 
 bled, which caused him to say : 
 
 "I wish you would lay your handkerchief 
 over my face for a moment." 
 
364 A MAN STORY. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 HOW IT CAME ABOUT. 
 
 MRS. TOM did as he requested, and I think 
 we both joined him in his weakness, for I re 
 member finding my handkerchief with difficulty, 
 and that I wiped tears from Mrs. Tom s face. 
 
 Uncle Tom removed the handkerchief him 
 self presently and again looked at his wife. 
 
 "Have you been divorced from me?" he 
 asked, in such a weak and troubled voice 
 that I could not easily connect it with the 
 strong man I had known in Fog Lake. It 
 caused me to realize how very ill he had been, 
 for the frenzy of despair had left him now, 
 and he was very weak. 
 
 " No, Tom ; I love you more now than I 
 ever did, and have been thinking every hour 
 of coming to you. I will kiss you if you 
 want me to." 
 
HOW IT CAME ABOUT. 365 
 
 " Well, I want you to, if Chance don t 
 mind it in his presence." 
 
 I didn t care for that, but I felt that I 
 wanted to go out of the room for a while, 
 and when I returned I did not believe they 
 had moved or spoken. Uncle Tom had been 
 looking at the footboard of the bed through 
 a mist, I think, but he must have felt better, 
 for Mrs. Tom s hand was on his forehead, and 
 he was always talking of the magic of her 
 touch. 
 
 "Your coming back to me," he said to his 
 wife, when I came in, as though he had been 
 waiting for me to hear him say it, " has saved 
 my life, I think, and it is the greatest event 
 in my life, except meeting you in the first 
 place : but I don t believe I should have asked 
 you, though I have felt all the time that I 
 should die if you didn t come. I never intend 
 to be stubborn again ; it hurts me more than 
 anything I ever tried. I am a very stubborn 
 man, and intended when I sent you away to 
 forget you, or live a life of misery, and while 
 
366 A MAN STORY. 
 
 I couldn t forget you, I succeeded in the other ; 
 no one can ever know how well I did that. 
 I know now how men go mad ; I have been 
 so near it that I am frightened. A man s 
 stubbornness becomes madness, and he does not 
 know it, and finally he destroys himself, be 
 lieving that he is in his right mind." 
 
 Uncle Tom was quite exhausted by this 
 time, and while he was resting he looked 
 slyly at his wife, and then turned his eyes 
 quickly, as though to look at her humiliated 
 him. 
 
 " You did everything you could do," he said, 
 after a while, "but somehow in my frenzy I 
 imagined I was dying, and that when I was 
 painfully gasping for breath you thought I 
 was doing it simply to distress you. A man 
 should submit to anything rather than submit 
 to the horrors of stubbornness. I was in the 
 wrong, but I believe I suffered as much as 
 you did, who were in the right. Do you think 
 any less of me because of my stubbornness ? " 
 
 "No, Tom; you are too weak to talk, or I 
 
HOW IT CAME ABOUT. 367 
 
 should tell you how much more I think of 
 you than I ever did. Can t you go to sleep 
 again?" 
 
 " No ; you ll have to excuse me for refus 
 ing to sleep when you talk that way to me. 
 Your voice is as pleasant as ever; how I 
 have longed to hear it ! I was mistaken 
 about the possibility of ever tiring of you, 
 but I wonder you have not tired of me. 
 You used to say that I was good to you, 
 and I enjoyed your saying it as much as 
 though I really was, but I can honestly say 
 that you have been wonderfully patient with 
 me ; had you not been, we should have ended 
 our lives in the greatest wretchedness." 
 
 I left them soon after, and went to bed, 
 and had lost .so much sleep of late that I 
 did not see them again until the afternoon, 
 when I found Uncle Tom propped up in bed 
 trying a bowl of broth which Mrs. Tom had 
 just brought up, though he was yet so weak 
 that he made poor progress with it. Uncle 
 Tom s pale face was radiant with happiness, 
 
368 A MAN STORY. 
 
 and, as he shook hands with me, when I 
 came in, I imagined that he had learned that 
 I had had something to do with it. 
 
 Mrs. Tom was afraid he would over-exert 
 himself, but her husband said no; now that 
 she had come back, he could get up and 
 dress, and walk down town if he wanted to, 
 and fight the blacksmith. 
 
 Mrs. Tom hovered about him night and 
 day, and I wondered when she rested herself; 
 but in spite of it she was as happy as she 
 could be, for Uncle Tom had been restored 
 to her. 
 
 I returned to my neglected work soon after 
 her arrival, and was quite busy; but whenever 
 I went into their room I found them as 
 happy as they had ever been, and Uncle Tom 
 talked no more of the time when he would 
 tire of his wife. 
 
 One day, while he was still in bed, but 
 recovering his strength as rapidly as possible, 
 I came across a wagon going toward our 
 house in which was loaded Mrs. Tom s trunk 
 
HOW IT CAME ABOUT. 369 
 
 and effects. The different articles seemed like 
 a load of old friends from Fog Lake, and I 
 followed reverently behind ; I thought it the 
 greatest procession in my life, for I knew 
 that Mrs. Tom had come to stay, and that 
 our troubles were over; I knew that Uncle 
 Tom had sent for the trunk and the other 
 modest effects, and that everything he had 
 lost had been restored to him. 
 
 Occasionally, when I was alone with him, 
 and Mrs. Tom was out of the room for a 
 moment, a strange look came into Uncle 
 Tom s eyes, and I thought he was thinking 
 of his humiliation in the presence of Mrs. 
 Barnaby. Once Mrs. Tom came into the 
 room while I was there, and the strangeness 
 of his look frightened her, for she ran to 
 him, and said he must be thinking ill of her. 
 But he soon laughed, and nodded and shook 
 his head, to declare that he would always 
 love her, and that he would never forget 
 her; but after that I somehow believed that 
 he occasionally thought of the darkest night 
 
370 A MAN STORY. 
 
 of his life, in spite of the bright light then 
 shining into it. 
 
 When he lived with Mrs. Tom at Fog 
 Lake, no recollection of Mrs. Barnaby ever 
 made him thoughtful, he was so content with 
 his new home ; and though I feared for a while 
 that this thinking might grow upon him, it 
 never did, except that he once fished Mar 
 garet out of the dusty place to which she had 
 retreated, and said that his indifference to her 
 neglect was because he had never been able 
 to love her. 
 
A RIVAL. 371 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 A KIVAL. 
 
 THE invalid s improvement was marvellously 
 rapid ; when I went into his room during the 
 days immediately following Mrs. Tom s arrival, 
 I usually found him fast asleep, or having 
 a merry time with his wife, for she was 
 always with him. In a week he sat up, and 
 walked about the house a little, and soon 
 after ventured to look in at the store, Mrs. 
 Tom accompanying him. Great numbers of 
 the people congratulated him on his return to 
 health, and he introduced them to his wife, 
 with every evidence of pride and pleasure. 
 
 In a month he was looking better than he 
 ever did, and professed to be the happiest 
 man alive. In two months fine-looking peo 
 ple began arriving from the city to see him ; 
 gentlemen who had been his business associates, 
 
372 A MAN STORY. 
 
 accompanied by their wives in most cases, and 
 the excursions they made, headed by Uncle Tom 
 and his wife, were the wonder of the town. 
 
 The town seemed to share in Uncle Tom s 
 good fortune, for it prospered, and it was 
 not long before Uncle Tom sold his store 
 and opened a bank, in which I think some 
 of his friends from the City were interested. 
 In the course of time my name appeared on 
 the printed stationery as one of the officers; 
 when my mother came to see us, she said she 
 always knew I would become a banker, but she 
 never knew how skilfully and patiently Uncle 
 Tom taught me the little I knew, or how his 
 friendly interest encouraged me to do my best. 
 
 There was great excitement at our house 
 one day, and, after an absence of several 
 hours, Uncle Tom came into- the room where 
 I was at work, and said he had a Rival ; a 
 roaring boy, who looked like his father, it 
 turned out to be, and although he was named 
 Rival, he did not deserve it, for a few 
 months later, during one of Mrs. Tom s visits 
 
A RIVAL. 373 
 
 to her husband ID his office, I heard him say 
 that really Rival ought to have more attention ; 
 although Uncle Tom appreciated the manner in 
 which his wife was always " tagging " after 
 him, he feared that Rival was being neglected, 
 and that the neighbors would talk about it. 
 And Mrs. Tom would say that while she loved 
 this precious baby, she loved Uncle Tom a 
 thousand times more, and then they would 
 both forget Rival in thinking of each other. 
 
 But Rival was not neglected. He was 
 immensely popular with old Archie and with 
 me, and when Number Two arrived, and ar 
 ranged his canteens and knapsacks in the 
 room we had assigned him, Rival had all the 
 attention he needed. Before he was two 
 years old the boy loved to spend his time 
 in the room where the muskets, and swords, 
 and brass buttons were kept; where he drank 
 from a canteen, and where all the things he 
 admired were packed away in knapsacks. 
 Later in life he was gone for half days at a 
 time with Number Two, sleeping peacefully 
 
374 A MAN STORY. 
 
 on a blue coat while Lis venerable friend 
 watched his bob and bait in the river. Such 
 an attachment sprang up between them, in 
 deed, that the father and mother were at 
 times a little piqued because of his careless 
 ness toward them, but they cheerfully said 
 that they had begun it, and forgave him. 
 
 There were many old soldiers in that part 
 of the country, and although Number Two fre 
 quently put on his blue uniform, and went away 
 to reunions, there were no Copperheads present 
 to annoy him, and he came back in the best 
 condition. But we all imagined that if Number 
 One should come to see us, The Bends would 
 break out again, so Number One never came. 
 
 From the Boomer, who visited Hooper, and 
 looked admiringly at the boom, and the neigh 
 boring prairie that might be converted into addi 
 tions, we learned that Number One was still 
 looking highly respectable, and that he read a 
 great many books, but the Boomer believed that 
 he often regretted his determination to never 
 again speak the name of Thos. Saulsbury. 
 
TWO LETTERS. 375 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 TWO LETTERS. 
 
 DURING Uncle Tom s illness there came to 
 his address a letter from Mrs. Barnaby, but 
 as it was marked personal, he did not see 
 it until after he was able to read it to Mrs. 
 Tom and me. I take the liberty of intro 
 ducing it, in taking farewell of the reader, to 
 gether with the reply : 
 
 44 1 hear that you are ill, and write this in 
 the hope that you will not die hating me as 
 you do ; I fear that you will not recover from 
 your hatred in the passage through the grave, 
 and that you will be restless in heaven because 
 I hope to go there. 
 
 " I acknowledge now what I have never 
 been able to acknowledge before, that in our 
 joint affairs I was often wrong. Now that I 
 know my own capacity for love, I realize 
 
376 A MAN STORY. 
 
 that much of the wrong I did you was 
 because of the lack of it ; I realize that much 
 of the wrong you did me was due to the 
 lack of a love that was necessary to your 
 life. When I found that you possessed what 
 I lacked, in the love of Mrs. Tom, I did 
 what I would not do again : I used the power 
 I possessed to drive you from it. I acknowl 
 edge my fault, and am sincere. In my 
 dreariness and loneliness I did many things I 
 should not have done ; I say from my heart 
 that I believe that your dreariness and loneliness 
 are responsible for much that you did that we 
 are both ashamed of. 
 
 "I am now the wife of Mr. Barnaby, who 
 was so long your confidential clerk ; I hope 
 you will be glad to know that I am content, 
 and that he has found that in me which I 
 always thought was admirable, but which you 
 incensed me by denying, by your conduct, 
 existed at all. I know now what hard blows 
 I gave you ; I did not know when they were 
 given. I realize now, as I never realized 
 
TWO LETTERS. 377 
 
 before, that my womanly dignity and pride 
 would not supply the vacant place in your 
 heart. 
 
 " Mr. Barnaby has known you nearly all 
 your business life ; I hope it will please you 
 to know that he speaks of you only in praise. 
 He believes you to be a fair and honorable 
 man ; and I think so, too. I once believed 
 differently, but I think so now. My relations 
 with him began while he was your trusted 
 agent ; he respected me then, and wondered 
 why you dreaded me so much, but at that 
 time, as now, he deserved the confidence you 
 reposed in him. Since he has become my 
 husband I have joined him in saying that 
 you were no more to blame than I was. I 
 could not say more ; I sincerely hope you 
 will accept it in the spirit which prompts it: 
 a spirit of regret that we were mutually so 
 unhappy ; a spirit of forgiveness, as I hope 
 to be forgiven. 
 
 " I am sorry that while I am contented, for 
 the first time in my life, you are more wretched 
 
378 A MAN STORY. 
 
 than you ever were before ; I hope your ex 
 perience in the past will teach you that you 
 should not be as stubborn with Mrs. Tom as 
 you were with me. Stubbornness is your great 
 est sin ; you should overcome it as I over 
 came my pride, and humbled myself by 
 confessing what I once thought would never 
 pass my lips. I believe in Mrs. Tom because 
 you love her; she is the woman I was not, 
 and could not be. You were always consist 
 ent in your dread of me ; you have been 
 consistent in everything, except in your stub 
 bornness with her." 
 
 Uncle Tom s reply was written in the same 
 strange way, without address or signature, on 
 the day that he received Mrs. Barnaby s letter : 
 
 " I forgive everything ; I forget everything, 
 except that we have wasted so many years. 
 This I can never forget, though I shall never 
 think of it unkindly, but with regret ; it will 
 often occur to me, in spite of myself, that I 
 might have been a better man now had I been 
 wiser in my youth. An unhappy fate has 
 
TWO LETTERS. 379 
 
 willed that the son never heeds the lessons of 
 the father ; the wisdom of the father is dis 
 missed by the untried son as the croaking of 
 an old man in his dotage, and so it comes 
 about that we all fall into the same pitfalls, 
 and learn by bitter experience that which has 
 been learned so often before. I shall only 
 think of our past with the same sorrow that 
 possesses me when I remember that I did not 
 heed the teachings of my elders when a boy. 
 " That you were a good woman I never 
 doubted, as I never doubted that I was an 
 honest man, though wronging you every day. 
 There is no right; the best we can do is the 
 only right, and we did the best we could 
 while wronging each other. We were both 
 right, for we did the best we could, yet we 
 were both wrong. We knew years ago that 
 we could not live together; in this we were 
 right, but we kept up the struggle, and in 
 this we were wrong. Marry the bull to a 
 scarlet flag, and the gods would watch the con 
 flict with pity. 
 
380 A MAN STORY. 
 
 " Of my old stubbornness I have none left, 
 for Mrs. Tom is with me. She is beside me 
 as I write this, and in her presence I can 
 only think of the old hate to regret it. Honor 
 seems more precious to me now than it ever 
 did before, though I have always tried to de 
 serve the respect of men; but since you have 
 agreed to blot out the past, receive my assur 
 ance that I shall be very careful of the future. 
 For every sorrow I have caused I shall 
 endeavor to provide a double measure of joy ; 
 for every wrong in my past I shall endeavor 
 to supply a double measure of good in the 
 future, to the end that I may hear hereafter, 
 as I have heard this day, that there is for 
 giveness, and peace, and good will." 
 
 THE END. 
 
THE WOKKS OP E. W. HOWE. 
 
 THE STORY OF A COUNTRY TOWN. 
 
 1vol., 12mo. $1.50. 
 
 The Springfield Republican finds in it " a distinct flavor of its own 
 . . . the freshness and strangeness of the prairie life." 
 
 The Chicago Inter-Ocean finds it "the most dramatic of our Ameri 
 can novels ... a drama of direct appeal." 
 
 " There runs through the story a vein of pathos that is absolutely 
 pitiful, and makes one think of The Mill on the Floss. . . . It is 
 a strong, stern, matter-of-fact book. Some of its pages stand out from 
 their sad background of reality like one of Salvator Rosa s pictures. 
 . . . Many of the situations are as dramatical as any of Bret Harte s." 
 St. Joseph Gazette. 
 
 The /Saturday fieview pronounces " The Story of a Country Town " 
 the most remarkable of recent American novels, and commends its 
 sincerity, frankness, and intense realism. 
 
 " A fiction which is of the kind most characteristic of our time, and 
 which no student of our time hereafter can safely ignore. The book is 
 full of simple homeliness, but is never vulgar. It does not flatter the 
 West, nor paint its rough and rude traits as heroic ; it perceives and 
 states, and the results are perfectly imaginable American conditions, in 
 which no trait of beauty or pathos is lost. There are charming things 
 in it. Youth, with its ignorance, its ardor, its hopefulness, and fear 
 lessness, is more than once finely studied ; and amidst the prevailing 
 harshness and aridity there are episodes of tenderness and self-devotion 
 that are like springs of water out of the ground." W. D. Ho WELLS* 
 t;i The Century Magazine. 
 
 " I like your book so much that I am glad of the chance to say so. 
 Your style is so simple, sincere, direct, and at the same time so clear 
 and so strong, that I think it must have been born to you, not made. 
 Your pictures of the arid village life, and the insides and outsicles of its 
 people, are vivid, and, what is more, true ; I know, for I have seen it 
 all, and lived it all." MARK TWAIN. 
 
 " It is decidedly one of the most notable works of fiction from the 
 pen of an American writer. The tone of the story is sombre and sad, 
 almost weird in its most tragic phases, and yet through it all appear 
 those exquisite touches of humor and pathos, and unique conceits which 
 constitute the charm of Dickens." Baltimore Herald. 
 
 TICKNOR & CO., BOSTON. 
 
THE WOKKS OF E. W. HOWE. 
 
 THE MYSTERY OF THE LOCKS. 
 
 " The writer s touches are of the broadest, most definite nature in 
 all such pages. He is an etcher more than a painter in his management 
 of the telling lines, the lights and thick shadows." Independent. 
 
 " An old, failing town, by a sluggish Western river ; a gloomy, un 
 canny mansion, on lonely hill-top, with a tradition of ghostly footsteps 
 coming and going over its stairs and corridors ; a handsome, cultivated 
 stranger, who hides his identity under an assumed name, and lives 
 alone in the gloomy house ; a girl, a dainty specimen of sporadic beauty 
 and genius ; a villain as ugly and captivating as ever appeared in the 
 pages of fiction ; an almost equally fascinating ne er-do-well ; a lurking 
 shadow of danger threatening the happiness and life of the stranger ; a 
 coterie of quaint gossips ; an ancient maiden, delightful in her sharp- 
 spoken antiquity ; a dreary background of decayed stores and ware 
 houses, of mist and rain and mud, of sluggish waters roused to a fury 
 of destruction ; and a climax of grotesque, high- wrought tragedy, 
 these are the elements going to make up the strong, vivid, strikingly 
 original, uncouth, impossibly-possible novel, The Mystery of the 
 Locks. In its emphatic realism, it is a production of remarkable merit. 
 The author s power of insight never fails, and in expressing what he 
 sees and feels he is never vague or uncertain. One cannot help think 
 ing that, with this book and its predecessor from the same pen, a new 
 and promising force has come into American literature." Literary 
 World. 
 
 " There are the elements of greatness and a firm courage that breathes 
 success upon almost every page of this extraordinary volume, and he 
 who finds his own life difficult will take courage from this work and look 
 at the future bravely and with more hope and cheer." The Delineator. 
 
 "Moreover, there are veiy many elements in his writing that he 
 seems to owe to no one, to nothing but life. As before, in The Story 
 of a Country Town, the strength and insight with which he can put a 
 neighborhood before the reader in its characteristic colors is surprising ; 
 indeed, this is, so far, the best feature of Mr. Howe s work. It is, too, a 
 region of our country new to fiction that he has brought forward, the 
 central West; and one that is surprisingly unknown to the reading 
 
 Eublic, considering how much of the area," the wealth, and the popu- 
 ition of the country is distributed through these central States. 
 Overland Monthly. 
 
 . . . " The gift of a born story-teller this new Western nov 
 elist has in as high degree as Wilkie Collins. You mav quarrel with 
 the machinery of his story, or with his careless style, out you must 
 admit the power which carries you along, and forces you to take a deep 
 interest in a life which your common-sense tells you is as unreal as the 
 most grotesque incidents in Dickens. This it is which makes Mr. Howe 
 worthy of more than passing mention, for it presages a career which 
 may cast into the shade all the popular favorites among the novelists of 
 the* day." San Francisco Chronicle. 
 
 TICKNOR & CO., BOSTON. 
 
THE WOKKS OF E. W. HOWE. 
 
 A MOONLIGHT BOY. 
 
 WITH PORTRAIT OF THE AUTHOR. $1.50. 
 
 " A genuinely good novel." JH. Y. Tribune. 
 
 " So sunny, so genial % so mirth-provoking, and so tender, that tha 
 reader who is not quite hardened reads with mingled tears and smiles. 
 Clever, pathetic, unique, touching." The Critic. 
 
 " Delicate, Lamb-like humor ; literary style & model of purity and 
 grace." Boston Globe. 
 
 " Sweetness of feeling and purity of sentiment." N.Y. Telegram. 
 
 "It wins upon the reader by dint of its unobtrusive charm and 
 sincerity, and will remain in his memory long after more stimulating 
 productions have been forgotten, and he will recur to it more than 
 once, to read again its touching and mirthful passages." N.Y. 
 World. 
 
 " A piece of fiction, in which the realism is as intense as that of De 
 Foe, in Robinson Crusoe. It reminds you of Dickens, and has 
 touches of humor and joyousness that are as genuine as his. The 
 book is perhaps the freshest and most genuinely American work of 
 fiction since Mr. Howells A Modern Instance. " Boston Herald. 
 
 " It has a delightful humor, a simple, unpretentious manner, that 
 leaves a lasting impression upon the reader. The prairie life, the 
 strangely assorted and mysterious character of the race life which fills 
 the vast valley of the Missjssippi, the sudden growth of cities, the settle 
 ments made and unmade, these are ready for the writer, who, like 
 Mr. Howe, is indigenous. Mr. Howe is the strongest man in fiction 
 that the great West has yet produced. Indeed, one of the strongest of 
 his generation anywhere, and much may be confidently looked for as 
 the results ol his future studies of the social conditions of the middle 
 West." Boston Transcript. 
 
 " How many flavors and savors ha.ve we in this new story of Mr. 
 Howe s ? There is Japhet in Search of a Father and David Copper- 
 field, and yet it is as native and as peculiar, and belonging as particu 
 larly to Mr. Howe as if there had never been a novelist before him. 
 There has arisen in Mr. Howe a new man, one who is to make his 
 mark in English literature. A clearer, simpler way of writing English 
 can hardly be imagined. If there is an exquisite tenderness about the 
 author of The Story of a Country Town, there is endless humor and 
 just that kind of racy humor that has no trick or juggle about it. He 
 writes in a way that all can understand him. If the better educated 
 can appreciate a style which has such Avonderful attractiveness, it is the 
 humor of the writer, the pathos he displays, the simple character of his 
 story, which will enlist the sympathies of all classes." New York 
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