i 
 
 
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 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 FREDERIC THOMAS BLANCHARD 
 
 FOR THE 
 ENGLISH READING ROOM
 
 ENGLISH READING ROOM 

 
 A BORROWED MONTH 
 AND OTHER STORIES.
 
 MR. FRANK R. STOCKTON'S STORIES. 
 
 POCKET EDITION, IN ONE 8HILLINQ VOLUMES. 
 
 RUDDER GRANGE. 
 
 " To have written Rudder Grange is much ; it is a 
 book that few could produce, and that most would be 
 proud to sign." Saturday Review. 
 
 11 It would hardly be possible for Mr. Stockton in 
 any case to repeat Pomona, and the dog, and the 
 drunken tramp, and the camping-out scenes, and the 
 experiment with the Irish baby, which make the 
 reading of Rudder Grange one long attempt to sup- 
 press laughter." Spectator. 
 
 THE LADY OR THE TIGER? 
 
 Contents. 
 
 THE LADY OR THE TIGER ? 
 THE TRANSFERRED GHOST. 
 THE SPECTRAL MORTGAGE. 
 THAT SAME OLD COON. 
 HIS WIFE'S DECEASED SISTER^, 
 
 MR. TOLMAN. 
 PLAIN FISHING. 
 MY BULL CALF. 
 EVERY MAN HIS OWN 
 LETTER- WRITER. 
 
 THE REMARKABLE WRECK OF THE "THOMAS HYKE." 
 
 " Many readers of the Century Magazine, may recall 
 one of the most tantalizing tales which it was ever 
 their good fortune to read, Mr. Frank Stockton's 
 Lady or the Tiger ? . .A very conundrum of a short 
 story. " Saturday Review. 
 
 EDINBURGH : DAVID DOUGLAS.
 
 A BORROWED 
 MONTH 
 
 AND 
 
 OTHER STORIES 
 
 R.\ST< 
 
 FRANK R.\ STOCKTON 
 
 Author 's Edition 
 
 v. ^-5" 
 
 EDINBURGH 
 DAVID DOUGLAS, CASTLE STREET 
 
 1887
 
 T. AND A. CONSTABLE, PRINTERS TO HEK MAJESTY.
 
 Jrwteric
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 A BORROWED MONTH 
 
 1 y 
 
 A TALE OF NEGATIVE GRAVITY, 75 
 
 THE- CHRISTMAS WRECK, . ;QQ 
 
 OUR ARCHERY CLUB, . -^g 
 
 A STORY OP ASSISTED FATE, . ]J9 
 
 THE DISCOURAGER OF HESITANCY, . 237 
 
 OUR STORY, ..'."'. 251
 
 A BORROWED MONTH,
 
 A BORROWED MONTH. 
 
 ALL persons who, like myself, are artists, 
 and all others who delight in the 
 beauties of lake and valley, the grandeur of 
 snowy mountain peaks, and the invigoration 
 of pure mountain air, can imagine the joy 
 with which I found myself in Switzerland 
 on a sketching tour. It had not been easy 
 for me to make this, my first visit to 
 Europe. Circumstances, which the very 
 slightly opened purses of my patrons had 
 not enabled me to control, had deferred it 
 for several years. And even now my stay 
 was strictly limited, and I must return by a 
 steamer which sailed for America early in 
 the autumn. But I had already travelled 
 a good deal on the Continent ; had seen 
 Italy ; and now had six summer weeks to 
 give to Switzerland. Six months would 
 have suited me much better, but youth and 
 enthusiasm can do a great deal of sketching 
 and nature-revelling in six weeks.
 
 10 A BORROWED MONTH. 
 
 I began what I called my Alpine holidays 
 in a little town not far from the upper end 
 of Lake Geneva, and at the close of my 
 second day of rambling and sketching I 
 was attacked by a very disagreeable and 
 annoying pain in my left leg. It did not 
 result, so far as I could ascertain, from a 
 sprain, a bruise, or a break, but seemed to 
 be occasioned by a sort of tantalising rheu- 
 matism ; for while it entirely disappeared 
 when I remained at rest, its twinges began 
 as soon as I had taken half a dozen steps in 
 walking. The next day I consulted a doctor, 
 and he gave me a lotion. This, however, 
 was of no service, and for three or four days 
 he made use of other remedies, none of which 
 were of the slightest benefit to me. 
 
 But, although I was confined to the house 
 during this period, I did not lose my time. 
 From the windows of my room in the hotel 
 I had a series of the most enchanting views, 
 which I sketched from early morning until 
 twilight, with an earnest and almost ecstatic 
 zeal. On the other side of the lake rose, ten 
 thousand feet in the air, the great Dent du 
 Midi, with its seven peaks clear and sharp 
 against the sky, surrounded by its sister 
 mountains, most of them dark of base and 
 white of tip. To the east stretched the
 
 A BORROWED MONTH. II 
 
 beautiful valley of the Rhone, up which 
 the view extended to the pale- blue pyramid 
 of Mont Velan. Curving northward around 
 the end of the lake was a range of lower 
 mountains, rocky or verdant ; while at their 
 base, glistening in the sun, lay the blue lake 
 reflecting the white clouds in the sky, and 
 dotted here and there with little vessels, 
 their lateen-sails spread out like the wings 
 of a descending bird. 
 
 I sketched and painted the lake and 
 mountains, by the light of morning, in their 
 noontide splendours, and when all lay in 
 shadow except where the highest snowy 
 peaks were tipped with the rosy afterglow. 
 My ailment gave me no trouble at all so 
 long as I sat still and painted, and in the 
 wonderful opportunity afforded by nature 
 to my art I forgot all about it. 
 
 But in the course of a week I began to 
 get very impatient. There was a vast deal 
 more of Switzerland to be seen and sketched ; 
 my time was growing short, and the pain 
 occasioned by walking had not abated in 
 the least. I felt that I must have other 
 views than those which were visible from my 
 window, and I had myself driven to various 
 poirlts accessible to vehicles, from which I 
 made some very satisfactory sketches. But
 
 12 A BORROWED MONTH. 
 
 this was not roaming in Alpine valleys and 
 climbing mountain peaks. It was only a 
 small part of what brought me to Switzer- 
 land, and my soul rebelled. Could any 
 worse fate befall a poor young artist, who 
 had struggled so hard to get over here, than 
 to be thus chained and trammelled in the 
 midst of the grandest opportunities his art 
 life had yet known ? 
 
 My physician gave me but little comfort. 
 He assured me that if I used his remedies 
 and had patience, there would be no doubt 
 of my recovery ; but that it would take 
 time. When I eagerly asked how much 
 time would be required, he replied that it 
 would probably be some weeks before I was 
 entirely well, for these disorders generally 
 wore off quite gradually. 
 
 "Some weeks!" I ejaculated when he 
 had gone. "And I have barely a month 
 left for Switzerland ! " 
 
 This state of affairs not only depressed 
 me, but it disheartened me. I might have 
 gone by rail to other parts of Switzerland, 
 and made other sketches from hotels and 
 carriages, but this I did not care to do. If 
 I must still carry about with me my figura- 
 tive ball and chain, I did not wish to go 
 where new temptations would beckon and
 
 A BORROWED MONTH. 13 
 
 call and scream to me from every side. 
 Better to remain where I was ; where I 
 could more easily become used to my gall- 
 ing restraints. This was morbid reasoning, 
 but I had become morbid in body and mind. 
 One evening I went in the hotel omnibus 
 to the Kursaal of the little town where I 
 was staying. In this building, to which 
 visitors from the hotels and pensions of the 
 vicinity went in considerable numbers every 
 afternoon and evening, for the reason that 
 they had nothing else to do, the usual con- 
 cert was going on in the theatre. In a 
 small room adjoining, a company of gentle- 
 men and ladies, the latter chiefly English or 
 Russian, were making bets on small metal 
 horses and jockeys which spun round on 
 circular tracks, and ran races which were 
 fairer to the betters than the majority of 
 those in which flesh-and-blood animals, 
 human and equine, take part. Opening 
 from this apartment was a large refresh- 
 ment-room, in which I took my seat. Here 
 I could smoke a cigar and listen to the 
 music, and perhaps forget for a time the 
 doleful world in which I lived. I had not 
 been long seated before I was joined by a 
 man whom I had met before, and in whom 
 I had taken some interest. He was a little
 
 14 A BORROWED MONTH. 
 
 man with a big head, on which he occasion- 
 ally wore a high-crowned black straw hat ; 
 but whenever the sun did not make it abso- 
 lutely necessary he carried this in his hand. 
 His clothes were black and of very thin 
 material, and he always had the appearance 
 of being too warm. In my occasional inter- 
 views with him I had discovered that he 
 was a reformer, and that his yearnings in 
 the direction of human improvement were 
 very general and inclusive. 
 
 This individual sat down at my little table 
 and ordered a glass of beer. 
 
 "You do not look happy," he said. 
 " Have you spoiled a picture ? " 
 
 " No," I replied, " but a picture has been 
 spoiled for me." And, as he did not under- 
 stand this reply, I explained to him how 
 the artistic paradise which I had mentally 
 painted for myself had been scraped from 
 the canvas by the knife of my malicious 
 ailment. 
 
 "I have been noticing," he said, he spoke 
 very fair English, but it was not his native 
 tongue, " that you have not walked. It is 
 a grand pity." And he stroked his beard 
 and looked at me steadfastly. ' ' An artist 
 who is young is free," he said, after some 
 moments' reflection. " He is not obliged to
 
 A BORROWED MONTH. 1 5 
 
 carry the load of a method which has grown 
 upon him like the goitre of one of these 
 people whom you meet here. He can de- 
 spise methods and be himself. You have 
 everything in art before you, and it is not 
 right that you should be held to the ground 
 like a serpent in your own country, with a 
 forked stick. You have some friends, per- 
 haps ? " 
 
 I replied, a little surprised, that I had a 
 great many friends in America. 
 
 "It is of no import where they are," he 
 said. And then he again regarded me in 
 silence. "Have you a good faith?" he 
 presently asked. 
 
 " Tn what?" said I. 
 
 " In anything. Yourself, principally." 
 
 I replied that just now I had very little 
 faith of that sort. 
 
 His face clouded ; he frowned, and, push- 
 ing away his empty glass, he rose from the 
 table. " You are a sceptic," he said, "and 
 an infidel of the worst sort." 
 
 In my apathetic state this remark did not 
 annoy me. "No man would be a sceptic," 
 I said carelessly, " if other people did not 
 persist in disagreeing with him." 
 
 But my companion paid no attention to 
 me, and walked away before I had finished
 
 1 6 A BORROWED MONTH. 
 
 speaking. In a few minutes he came back, 
 and, leaning over the table, he said in low 
 but excited tones, "It is to yourself that 
 you are an infidel. That is very wrong. It 
 is degrading." 
 
 " I do not understand you at all," I said. 
 " Won't you sit down and tell me what you 
 mean ? " 
 
 He seated himself, and wiped his fore- 
 head with his handkerchief. Then he fixed 
 his eyes upon me, and said, "It is not to 
 everybody I would speak as I now speak to 
 you. You must believe something. Do you 
 not believe in the outstretching power of the 
 mind ; of the soul ? " 
 
 My ideas in thir regard were somewhat 
 chaotic. I did not know what was his 
 exact meaning, but I thought it best to say 
 that it was likely that some souls could 
 outstretch. 
 
 " And do you not believe," he continued, 
 "that when your friend sleeps, and your 
 thoughts are fixed upon him, and your 
 whole soul goes out to him in its most utter 
 force and strength, that your mind becomes 
 his mind ? " 
 
 I shook my head. " That is going rather 
 far," I said. 
 
 "It is not far," he exclaimed emphati-
 
 A BOEEOWED MONTH. IJ 
 
 cally. "It is but a little way. We shall 
 go much further than that when we know 
 more. And is it that you doubt that the 
 mind is in the brain ? And where is pain ? 
 Is it in the foot? In the arm? It is not 
 so. It is in the brain. If you cut off your 
 wounded foot, you have the pain all the 
 same ; the brain remains. I will say this 
 to you. If it were I who had soul-friends, 
 it would not be that every day I should 
 shut the door on my art. Once it happened 
 that I suffered not like you, much worse. 
 But I did not suffer every day. No, no, my 
 friend, not every day. But that was I; I 
 have faith. But I need speak no more to 
 you. You are infidel. You do not believe 
 in yourself." 
 
 And with this he suddenly pushed back 
 his chair, picked up his black straw hat 
 from the floor, and walked out of the room, 
 wiping his forehead as he went. I am not 
 given to sudden reciprocations of sentiment, 
 but what this man had said made a strong 
 impression upon me. Not that I had any 
 confidence in the value of his psychological 
 ideas, but his words suggested a train of 
 thought which kept me awake a long time 
 after I had gone to bed that night ; and 
 gradually I began to consider the wonderful 
 
 B M B
 
 1 8 A BORROWED MONTH. 
 
 advantage and help it would be to me if it 
 were possible that a friend could bear my 
 infirmity even for a day. It would incon- 
 venience him but little. If he remained at 
 rest he would feel no pain, and he might be 
 very glad to be obliged to take a quiet holi- 
 day with his books or family. And what a 
 joy would that holiday be to me among the 
 Alps, and relieved of my fetters ! The 
 notion grew. One day one friend might take 
 up my burden, and the next another. How 
 little this would be for them ; how much 
 for me ! If I should select thirty friends, 
 they could, by each taking a day of pleasant 
 rest, make me free to enjoy to the utmost 
 the month which yet remained for Switzer- 
 land. My mind continued to dwell on this 
 pleasing fancy, and I went to sleep while 
 counting on my fingers the number of 
 friends I had who would each be perfectly 
 willing to bear for a day the infirmity which 
 was so disastrous to me, but which would 
 be of such trifling importance to them. 
 
 I woke very early in the morning, and 
 my thoughts immediately recurred to the 
 subject of my ailment and my friends. 
 What a pity it was that such an advantage- 
 ous arrangement should be merely whim 
 and fancy ! But if my companion of the
 
 A BORROWED MONTH. 19 
 
 night before were here, he would tell me 
 that there was no impossibility, only a want 
 of faith faith in the power of mind over 
 mind, of mind over body, and, primarily, 
 of faith in my own mind and will. I smiled 
 as I thought of what might happen if his 
 ideas were based on truth. There was my 
 friend Will Troy. How gladly would he 
 spend a day at home in his easy- chair, 
 smoking his pipe and forgetting, over a 
 novel, that there were such things as led- 
 gers, day-books, and columns of figures, 
 while I strode gaily over the mountain- 
 sides. If Troy had any option in the 
 matter, he would not hesitate for a moment; 
 and, knowing this, I would not hesitate for 
 a moment in making the little arrangement, * 
 if it could be made. If belief in myself 
 could do it, it would be done ; and I began 
 to wonder if it were possible, in any case, for 
 a man to believe in himself to such an extent. 
 Suddenly I determined to try. "It is 
 early morning here," I said to myself, "and 
 in America it must be about the middle of 
 the night, and Will Troy is probably sound 
 asleep. Let me then determine, with all 
 the energy of my mental powers, that my 
 mind shall be his mind, and that he shall 
 understand thoroughly that he has some
 
 20 A BORROWED MONTH. 
 
 sort of trouble in his left leg which will not 
 inconvenience him at all if he allows it to 
 rest, but which will hurt him very much if he 
 attempts to walk about. Then I will make 
 up my mind, quite decidedly, that for a 
 day it shall be Will who will be subject to 
 this pain, and not I." 
 
 For half an hour I lay flat on my back, 
 my lips firmly pressed together, my hands 
 clenched, and my eyes fixed upon the im- 
 mutable peaks of the Dent du Midi, which 
 were clearly visible through the window at 
 the foot of my bed. My position seemed 
 to be the natural one for a man bending all 
 the energies of his mind on a determinate 
 purpose. The great mountain stood up be- 
 fore me as an example of the steadfast and 
 immovable. " Now," said I to myself, over 
 and over again, "Will Troy, it is you who 
 are subject to this trouble. You will know 
 exactly what it is, because you will feel it 
 through my mind. I am free from it ; I will 
 that, and it shall be so. My mind has power 
 over your mind, because yours is asleep and 
 passive, while mine is awake and very, very 
 active. When I get out of bed I shall be 
 as entirely free from pain and difficulty in 
 walking as you would have been if I had 
 not passed my condition over to you for
 
 A BORROWED MONTH. 21 
 
 one short day." And I repeated again and 
 again " For one day ; only for one day." 
 
 The most difficult part of the process was 
 the mental operation of believing all this. 
 If I did not believe it, of course, it would 
 come to nothing. Fixing my mind stead- 
 fastly upon this subject, I believed with all 
 my might. When I had believed for ten or 
 fifteen minutes, I felt sure that my faith in 
 the power of my mind was well grounded 
 and fixed. A man who has truly believed 
 for a quarter of an hour may be considered 
 to have embraced a faith. 
 
 And now came the supreme moment, and 
 when I arose should I be perfectly well and 
 strong ? The instant this question came in- 
 to my mind I dismissed it. I would have . 
 no doubt whatever on the subject. I would 
 know that I should be what I willed I should 
 be. With my mind and my teeth firmly 
 set, I got out of bed, I walked boldly to the 
 window, I moved about the room, I dressed 
 myself. I made no experiments ; I would 
 scorn to do so. Experiments imply doubt. 
 I believed. I went down several flights of 
 stairs to my breakfast. I walked the whole 
 length of the long salle-d-manger, and sat 
 down at the table without having felt a 
 twinge of pain or the least discomfort.
 
 22 A BORROWED MONTH, 
 
 "Monsieur is better this morning," said 
 the head-waiter, with a kindly smile. 
 
 " Better," said I ; " I am well." 
 
 When I returned that evening after a day 
 of intoxicating delight, during which I had 
 climbed many a mountain path, had stood 
 on bluffs and peaks, had gazed over lake 
 and valley, and had breathed to the full 
 the invigorating upper air, I stood upon 
 the edge of the lake, just before reaching 
 the hotel, and stretched forth my hands to 
 the west. 
 
 "I thank you, Will Troy," I said, "from 
 the bottom of my heart I thank you for this 
 day ; and if I ever see my way to repay you, 
 I will do it, my boy. You may be sure of 
 that." 
 
 I now resolved to quit this place in- 
 stantly. I had been here too long ; and 
 before me was spread out in shadowy fas- 
 cination the whole of Switzerland. I took 
 a night-train for Berne, where I arrived 
 early the next day. But before I de- 
 scended from the railway carriage, where 
 I had managed to slumber for part of the 
 night, I had determinately willed an inter- 
 change of physical condition with another 
 friend in America. During the previous 
 day I had fully made up my mind that I
 
 A BORROWED MONTH. 2$ 
 
 should be false to myself and to my for- 
 tunes if I gave up this grand opportunity 
 for study and artistic development, and I 
 would call upon my friends to give me 
 these precious holidays, of which, but a 
 little while ago, I believed myself for ever 
 deprived. I belonged to a club of artists, 
 most of whom were young and vigorous 
 fellows, any one of whom would be glad to 
 do me a service ; and although I desired on 
 special occasions to interchange with parti- 
 cular friends, I determined that during the 
 rest of my holiday I would, for the most 
 part, exchange physical conditions with 
 these young men, giving a day to each. . 
 
 The next week was a perfect success. As 
 Martyn, Jeffries, Williams, Corbell, Field, 
 Booker, and Graham, I walked, climbed, 
 sketched, and, when nobody was near, 
 shouted with delight. I took Williams 
 for Sunday, because I knew he never 
 sketched on that day, although he was not 
 averse to the longest kind of rural ramble. 
 I shall not detail my route. The Bernese 
 Oberland, the region of Lake Lucerne, the 
 Engadine, and other earthly heavens opened 
 their, doors to my joyous anticipations, pro- 
 vided always that this system of physical 
 exchange continued to work.
 
 24 A BORROWED MONTH. 
 
 The Monday after Williams's Sunday I 
 appropriated to a long tramp which should 
 begin with a view of the sunrise from a 
 mountain height, and which necessitated 
 my starting in the morning before day- 
 light. For such an excursion I needed all 
 the strength and endurance of which I could 
 possess myself, and I did not hesitate as to 
 the exchange I should make for that long 
 day's work. Chester Parkman was the man 
 for me. Parkman was a fairly good artist, 
 but the sphere in which he shone was that 
 of the athlete. He was not very tall, but 
 he was broad and well made, with a chest 
 and muscles which to some of his friends ap- 
 peared to be in an impertinent condition of 
 perfect development. He was a handsome 
 fellow, too, with his well-browned face, his 
 fine white teeth, and his black hair and 
 beard, which seemed to curl because the 
 strength which they imbibed from him made 
 it necessary to do something, and curling is 
 all that hair can do. On some occasions it 
 pleased me to think that when by the power 
 of my will my physical incapacity was trans- 
 ferred for a time to a friend, I, in turn, found 
 myself in his peculiar bodily condition, what- 
 ever it might be. And whether I was mis- 
 taken or not, and whether this phase of my
 
 A BORROWED MONTH. 25 
 
 borrowed condition was real or imaginary, 
 it is certain that when I started out before 
 dawn that Monday morning I strode away 
 with vigorous Parkmanic legs, and inhaled 
 the cool air into what seemed to be a deep 
 Parkmanic chest. I took a guide that day, 
 and when we returned, some time after 
 nightfall, I could see that he was tired, and 
 he admitted the fact ; but as for me, I ate a 
 good supper, and then walked a mile and a 
 half to sketch a moonlight effect on a lake. I 
 will here remark that, out of justice to Park- 
 man, I rubbed myself down and polished my- 
 self off to the best of my knowledge and 
 ability before I went to bed. 
 
 When, as usual, I awoke early the next 
 morning, I lay for some time thinking. It 
 had been my intention to spend that day in 
 a boat on the lake, and I had decided to 
 direct my will-power upon Tom Latham, a 
 young collegian of my acquaintance. Tom 
 was an enthusiastic oarsman, and could pull 
 with such strength that if he were driving a 
 horse he could almost haul the animal back 
 into the vehicle, but if a stout boy were to 
 be pushed off a horse-block Tom could not 
 do it. . Tom's unequally developed muscles 
 were just what I wanted that day ; but be- 
 fore I threw out my mind in his direction I
 
 26 A BORROWED MONTH. 
 
 let it dwell in pleasant recollection upon the 
 glorious day I had had with Chester Park- 
 man's corporeal attributes. Thinking of 
 Chester, I began to think of some one else 
 one on whom my thoughts had rested 
 with more pleasure and more pain than on 
 any other person in the world. That this 
 was a woman I need not say. She was 
 young, she was an artist, and a very good 
 friend of mine. For a long time I had 
 yearned with all my heart to be able to say 
 that she was more than this. But so far I 
 could not say it. Since I had been in 
 Europe I had told myself over and over 
 that in coming away without telling Kate 
 Balthis that I loved her I made the greatest 
 mistake of my life. I had intended to do 
 this, but opportunity had not offered. I 
 should have made opportunity. 
 
 The reason that the thought of Chester 
 Parkman made me think of Kate was the 
 fact that they occupied studios in the same 
 building, and that he was a great admirer 
 not only of her work, but of herself. If it 
 had not been for the existence of Parkman, 
 I should not have blamed myself quite so 
 much for not proposing to Kate before I 
 left America. But I consoled myself by re- 
 flecting that the man was so intent upon
 
 A BORROWED MONTH. 27 
 
 the development of his lungs that his heart, 
 to put it anatomically, was obliged to take 
 a minor place in his consideration. 
 
 Thinking thus, a queer notion came into 
 my head. Suppose that Kate were to bear 
 my troubles for a day ! What friend had I 
 who would be more willing to serve me than 
 she ? And what friend from whom I would 
 be more delighted to receive a favour ? But 
 the next instant the contemptibleness of 
 this idea flashed across my mind, and I 
 gritted my teeth as I thought what a despic- 
 able thing it would be to deprive that dear 
 girl of her strength and activity, even for a 
 day. It was true, as I honestly told my- 
 self, that it was the joy and charm of being 
 beholden to her, and not the benefit to my- 
 self, that made me think of this thing. But 
 it was despicable, all the same, and I utterly 
 scouted it. And so, forgetting as far as 
 possible that there was such a person in the 
 world as Kate, I threw out my mind, as I 
 originally intended, towards Tom Latham, 
 the oarsman. 
 
 I spent that day on the lake. If I had 
 been able to imagine that I could walk as 
 far as -Chester Parkman, I failed to bring 
 myself to believe that I could row like 
 young Latham. I got on well enough, but
 
 28 A BORROWED MONTH. 
 
 rowed no better than I had often done at 
 home, and I was soon sorry that I had 
 not brought a man with me to take the 
 oars, of which I had tired. 
 
 Among those I called upon in the next 
 few days was Professor Dynard, a man who 
 was not exactly a friend, but with whom I 
 was very well acquainted. He was a scien- 
 tific man, a writer of books, and an enthusi- 
 astic lover of nature. He was middle-aged 
 and stooped a little, but his legs were long, 
 and he was an unwearied walker. Towards 
 the end of the very pleasant day which I 
 owed to my acquaintance with him, I could 
 not help smiling to find that I had thought 
 so much of the professor during my rambles 
 that I had unconsciously adopted the stoop 
 of his shoulder and his ungainly but regular 
 stride. 
 
 The half-starved man to whom food is 
 given eats too much ; the child, released 
 from long hours of school, runs wild, and is 
 apt to make himself objectionable ; and I, 
 rising from my condition of what I had con- 
 sidered hopeless inactivity to the fullest 
 vigour of body and limb, began to perceive 
 that I had walked too much and worked too 
 little. The pleasure of being able to ramble 
 and scramble wherever I pleased had made
 
 A BORROWED MONTH. 29 
 
 me forget that I was in Switzerland not only 
 for enjoyment, but for improvement. Of 
 course I had to walk and climb to find 
 points of view, but the pleasure of getting 
 to such places was so great that it over- 
 shadowed my interest in sitting down and 
 going to work after I had reached them. 
 The man who sketches as he walks and 
 climbs is an extraordinary artist, and I was 
 not such an one. 
 
 It was while I was in the picturesque 
 regions of the Engadine that these reflec- 
 tions forced themselves upon me, and I de- 
 termined to live less for mere enjoyment 
 and more for earnest work. But not for a 
 minute did I think of giving up my precious 
 system of corporeal exchange. I had had 
 enough of sitting in my room and sketching 
 from the window. If I had consented to 
 allow myself to relapse into my former con- 
 dition, I feared that I should not be able to 
 regain that firm belief in the power of my 
 mental propulsion which had so far enabled 
 my friends to serve me so well, with such 
 brief inconvenience to themselves. No. I 
 would continue to transfer my physical inca- 
 pacity, 'but I would use more conscientiously 
 and earnestly the opportunities which I thus 
 obtained.
 
 30 A BORROWED MONTH. 
 
 Soon after I caine to this determination, 
 I established myself at a little hotel on a 
 mountain-side, where I decided to stay for 
 a week or more and do some good hard 
 work ; I was surrounded by grand and 
 beautiful scenery, and it was far better for 
 my progress in art to stay here and do some- 
 thing substantial than to wander about in 
 search of fresh delights. As an appropriate 
 beginning to this industrious period, I made 
 an exchange with my friend Bufford, one of 
 the hai'dest-working painters I knew. His 
 industry as well as his genius had brought 
 him, when he had barely reached middle life, 
 to a high position in art, and it pleased me 
 to think that I might find myself influenced 
 by some of his mental characteristics as 
 well as those of a physical nature. At any 
 rate, I tried hard to think so, and I am not 
 sure that I did not paint better on the 
 Bufford day than on any other. If it had 
 not been that I had positively determined 
 that I would not impose my ailment upon 
 any one of my friends for more than one 
 day, I would have taken Bufford for a week. 
 
 There were a good many people staying 
 at the hotel, and among them was a very 
 pretty English girl, with whom I soon be- 
 came acquainted ; for she was an enthusi-
 
 A BORROWED MONTH. 31 
 
 astic amateur artist, and was engaged in 
 painting the same view at which I had 
 chosen to work. Every morning she used 
 to go some distance up the mountain-side, 
 accompanied by her brother Dick, a tall, 
 gawky boy of about eighteen, who was con- 
 sidered to be a suitable and sufficient escort, 
 but who was in reality a very poor one, for 
 no sooner was his sister comfortably seated 
 at her work than he left her and rambled 
 away for hours. If it had not been for me 
 I think she would sometimes have been en- 
 tirely too lonely and unprotected. Dick's 
 appetite would generally bring him back 
 in time to carry down her camp-chair and 
 colour-box when we returned to dinner ; 
 and as she never complained of his defec- 
 tions, I suppose her mother knew nothing 
 about them. This lady was a very pleasant 
 person, a little too heavy in body and a little 
 too large in cap for my taste, but hearty and 
 genial, and very anxious to know something 
 about America, where her oldest son was 
 established on a Texas ranch. She and her 
 daughter and myself used to talk a good 
 deal together in the evenings, and this inti- 
 macy made me feel quite justified in talking 
 a good deal to the daughter in the mornings 
 as we were working together on the moun-
 
 32 A BORROWED MONTH. 
 
 tain-side. The first thing that made me 
 take an interest in this girl was the fact 
 that she considered me her superior, and 
 looked up to me. I could paint a great deal 
 better than she could, and could inform her 
 on a lot of points, and I was always glad to 
 render her such service. She was a very 
 pretty girl, the prettiest English girl I 
 ever saw, with large, grey-blue eyes, which 
 had a trustfulness about them which I liked 
 very much. She evidently had a very good 
 opinion of me as an artist, and paid as much 
 earnest and thoughtful attention to what I 
 said about her work as if she had really 
 been the scholar and I the master. I tried 
 not to bore her by too much technical con- 
 versation, and endeavoured to make myself 
 as agreeable a companion as I could. I 
 found that fellowship of some kind was 
 very necessary to a man so far away from 
 home, and so cut off from social influences. 
 
 Day after day we spent our mornings to- 
 gether, sketching and talking ; and as for 
 Dick, he was the most interesting brother I 
 ever knew. He had a great desire to dis- 
 cover something hitherto unknown in the 
 heights above our place of sketching. Find- 
 ing that he could depend on me as a protector 
 for his sister, he gave us very little of his
 
 A BORROWED MONTH. 33 
 
 company. Even when we were not together 
 I could not help thinking a great deal about 
 this charming girl. Our talks about her 
 country had made me remember with pride 
 the English blood that was in me, and re- 
 vived the desire I had often felt to live for a 
 time, at least, in rural England, that land of 
 loveliness to the Anglo-Saxon mind. And 
 London too ! I had artist friends, Ameri- 
 cans, who lived in London, and such were 
 their opportunities, such the art atmosphere 
 and society, that they expected to live there 
 always. If a fellow really wished to succeed 
 as an artist, some years' residence in Eng- 
 land, with an occasional trip to the Conti- 
 nent, would be a great thing for him. And, 
 in such a case well, it was a mere idle 
 thought. If I had been an engaged man, 
 I would not have allowed myself even such 
 idle thoughts. But I was not engaged ; and 
 alas ! I thought with a sigh, I might never 
 be. I thought of Parkman and of Kate, 
 and how they must constantly see each 
 other ; and I remembered my stupid silence 
 when leaving America. How could I tell 
 what had happened since my departure ? I 
 did not like to think of all this, and tried to 
 feel resigned. The world was very wide. 
 There was that English brother, over on the 
 
 . M. C
 
 34 A BORROWED MONTH. 
 
 Texas ranch ; he might marry an American 
 girl ; and here was his sister well, this was 
 all the merest nonsense, and I would not 
 admit to myself that I attached the slightest 
 importance to these vague and fragmentary 
 notions which floated through my mind. But 
 the girl had most lovely, trustful eyes, and I 
 felt that a sympathy had grown up between 
 us which must not be rudely jarred. 
 
 We had finished our work at the old 
 sketching-place, and we proposed on the 
 morrow to go to a higher part of the moun- 
 tain, and make some sketches of a more 
 extended nature than we had yet tried. 
 This excursion would require a good part 
 of the day, but we would take along a 
 luncheon for three, and no doubt nothing 
 would please Dick better than such a trip. 
 The mother agreed, if Dick could be made 
 to promise that he would take his sister by 
 the hand when he came to any steep places. 
 But, alas ! when that youngster was called 
 upon to receive his injunctions, he declared 
 he could not accompany us. He had pro- 
 mised, he said, to go on a tramp with some 
 of the other men, which would take him all 
 day. And that, of course, put an end to 
 our expedition. I shall not soon forget the 
 air, charming to me, of evident sorrow and
 
 A BORROWED MONTH. 35 
 
 disappointment with which Beatrice told 
 me this early in the evening. The next day 
 was the only one for which such a trip could 
 be planned, for, on the day following, two 
 older sisters were expected, and then every- 
 thing would be different. I, too, was very 
 much grieved and disappointed, for I had 
 expected a day of rare pleasure ; but my re- 
 gret was tempered by an intense satisfaction 
 at perceiving how sorry she was. The few 
 words she said on the subject touched me 
 very much. She was such a true, honest- 
 hearted girl that she could not conceal what 
 she felt ; and when we shook hands in bid- 
 ding each other good-night, it was with 
 more warmth than either of us had yet 
 shown at the recurrence of this little cere- 
 mony. When I went to my room I said to 
 myself : "If she had not been prevented 
 from going, I should never have known how 
 glad she would be to go." The thought 
 pleased me greatly, but I had no time to 
 dwell upon it, for in came Dick, who, with 
 his hands in his pockets and his legs very 
 wide apart, declared to me that he had found 
 his sister was so cut up by not being able 
 to make those sketches on the mountain the 
 next day, that he had determined to go 
 with us.
 
 36 A BORROWED MONTH. 
 
 " It will be a beastly shame to disappoint 
 her," he said ; "so you can get your traps 
 together, and we will have an early break- 
 fast and start off." 
 
 "Now," said I, when he had shut the 
 door behind him, " I know how much she 
 wanted to go, and she is going ! Could any- 
 thing be better than this ? " 
 
 In making the physical transfers which 
 were necessary at this period for my enjoy- 
 ment of an outdoor excursion, I did not 
 always bring my mental force to work upon 
 an exchange of condition. Very often I was 
 willing to send out my ailment to another, 
 and to content myself with being for the day 
 what I would be in my ordinary health. But 
 in particular instances, such as those of Park- 
 man and Bufford, I willed and persuaded 
 myself that I had succeeded that certain 
 desirable attributes of my benefactor for the 
 day, which would be useless to him during 
 his period of enforced restfulness, should be 
 attracted to myself. Before I went to sleep 
 I determined that on the following day I 
 would exchange with my brother Philip, 
 and would make it as absolute an exchange 
 as my will could bring about. Phil was 
 not an athlete, like Parkman, but he was a 
 strong and vigorous fellow, with an immense
 
 A BORROWED MONTH. 37 
 
 deal of go in him. He was thoroughly good- 
 natured, and I knew that he would be per- 
 fectly willing, if he could know all about it, 
 to take a day's rest, and give me a day with 
 Beatrice. And what a charming day that 
 was to be ! We did not know exactly where 
 we were going, and we should have to ex- 
 plore. There would be steep places to climb, 
 and it would not be Dick who would help 
 his sister. We should have to rest, and we 
 would rest together. There would be a de- 
 lightful lunch under the shade of some rock. 
 There would be long talks, and a charming 
 co-operation in the selection of points of 
 view and in work. Indeed, there was no 
 knowing what might not come out of a day 
 like that. 
 
 In the morning I made the transfer, and 
 soon afterwards I arose. Before I was ready 
 to go downstairs I was surprised by an at- 
 tack of headache, a thing very unusual with 
 me. The pain increased so much that I was 
 obliged to go back to bed. I soon found 
 that I must give up the intended excursion, 
 and I remained in bed all day. In the 
 course of the afternoon, while I lay bemoan- 
 ing my present misery as well as the loss of 
 the great pleasure I had expected, a thought 
 suddenly came into my mind, which, in spite
 
 35 A BORROWED MONTH. 
 
 of my miseries, made me burst out laugh- 
 ing. I remembered that my brother Phil, 
 although enjoying, as a rule, the most vigor- 
 ous good health, was subject to occasional 
 attacks of sick headache, which usually laid 
 him up for a day or two. Evidently I had 
 struck him on one of his headache days. 
 How relieved the old fellow must be to find 
 his positive woe changed to a negative evil ! 
 It was very funny ! 
 
 In the evening came Dick with a message 
 from his mother and his sister Beatrice, who 
 wanted to know how I felt by this time, and 
 if I would have a cup of tea, or anything. 
 " It 's a beastly shame," said he, " that you 
 got yourself knocked up in this way." 
 
 "Yes," said I, "but my misfortune is 
 your good fortune, for, of course, you had 
 your tramp with your friends." 
 
 "Oh, I should have had that any way," 
 replied the good youth, " for I only intended 
 to walk a mile or two up the mountain, just 
 to satisfy the old lady, and then, without 
 saying whether I was coming back or not, 
 I intended to slip off and join the other 
 fellows. Wouldn't that have been a jolly 
 plan? Beatrice would have had her day, 
 and I should have had mine. But you must 
 go and upset her part of it."
 
 A BORROWED MONTH. 39 
 
 When Dick had gone I reflected. What 
 a day this would have been ! Alone so long 
 with Beatrice among those grand old moun- 
 tains ! As I continued to think of this I be- 
 gan to tremble, and the more I thought the 
 more I trembled ; and the reason I trembled 
 was the conviction that if I had spent that 
 day with her, I certainly should have pro- 
 posed to her. 
 
 "Phil, "I said, "I thank you. I thank 
 you more for your headache than for any- 
 thing else any other fellow could give me." 
 
 A sick headache, aided by conscience, can 
 work a great change in a man. My soul 
 condemned me for having come so near 
 being a very false lover, and my mind con- 
 gratulated me upon having the miss made 
 for me, for I never should have been strong 
 enough to make it for myself. 
 
 The next day the sisters arrived, and I saw 
 but little of Beatrice, for which, although 
 quite sorry, I was also very glad ; and after 
 a day on the mountain which I owed to 
 Horace Bartlett, the last man in our club 
 on whom I felt I could draw, I returned to 
 the hotel, and wrote a long letter to Kate. 
 I had informed my friends in America of 
 the ailment which had so frustrated all my 
 plans of work and enjoyment, but I had
 
 40 A BORROWED MONTH. 
 
 never written anything in regard to my 
 novel scheme of relief. This was some- 
 thing which could be better explained by 
 word of mouth when I returned. And, be- 
 sides, I did not wish to say anything about 
 it until the month of proposed physical 
 transfers had expired. I wrote to Kate, 
 however, that I was now able to walk and 
 climb as much as I pleased, and in my 
 repentant exuberance I hinted at a great 
 many points which, although I knew she 
 could not understand them, would excite 
 her curiosity and interest in the remark- 
 able story I would tell her when I returned. 
 I tried to intimate, in the most guarded 
 way, much that I intended to say to her 
 when I saw her concerning my series of 
 deliverances ; and my satisfaction at having 
 escaped a great temptation gave a kindly 
 earnestness to my manner of expressing my- 
 self, which otherwise it might not have had. 
 There were now six days of my Swiss 
 holiday left; and during these I threw 
 myself upon the involuntary kindness of 
 Mr. Henry Brinton, editor of a periodical 
 entitled "Our Mother Earth," and upon 
 that of his five assistants in the publishing 
 and editorial departments. Brinton was a 
 good fellow, devoted to scientific agricul-
 
 A BORROWED MONTH. 4! 
 
 ture and the growing of small fruits ; a man 
 of a most practical mind. I knew him and 
 his associates very well, and had no hesita- 
 tion in calling upon them. 
 
 At the end of the month, as I had previ- 
 ously resolved, I brought my course of physi- 
 cal transfers to a close ; and it was with no 
 little anxiety that I arose one morning from 
 my bed with my mind determined to bear 
 in my own proper person all the ills of 
 which I was possessed. 
 
 I walked across the room. It may appear 
 strange, but I must admit that it was with a 
 feeling of satisfaction that I felt a twinge. 
 It was but a little twinge, but yet I felt it, 
 and this was something that had not hap- 
 pened to me for a month. 
 
 "It was not fancy, then," I said to my- 
 self, "that gave me this precious relief, this 
 month of rare delight and profit ; it was the 
 operation of the outstretching power of the 
 mind. I owe you much happiness, you little 
 man with the big head whom I met in the 
 Kursaal, and if you were here I would make 
 you admit that I can truly believe in myself. " 
 
 The next day I was better, with only an 
 occasional touch of the old disorder : and in 
 a few days I was free from it altogether, and 
 could walk as well as ever I could in my life.
 
 42 A BORROWED MONTH. 
 
 I returned to America strong and agile, and 
 with a portfolio full of suggestive sketches. 
 One of these was the back hair and part of 
 the side face of a girl who was engaged in 
 sketching in a mountainous region. But 
 this I tore up on the voyage.
 
 A BORROWED MONTH. 43 
 
 WEST. 
 
 I WILL now relate the events which took 
 place in America, among the people in 
 whom I was most interested, while I, a 
 few thousand miles to the east, was enjoy- 
 ing my month of excursion and art work in 
 the mountains of Switzerland. 
 
 On my return to my old associates I had 
 intended to state to all of them, in turn, 
 that I owed my delightful holiday to the 
 fact that I had been able to transfer to 
 them the physical disability which had 
 prevented me from making use of the 
 opportunities offered me by the Alps and 
 the vales of Helvetia. But by conver- 
 sation with one and another I gradually 
 became acquainted with certain interesting 
 facts which determined me to be very 
 cautious in making disclosures regarding 
 the outreaching power of my will. 
 
 No one of my friends was so much affected 
 by my departure for Europe as that dear 
 girl Kate Balthis, although I had no idea
 
 44 A BORROWED MONTH. 
 
 at the time that this was so. It was not 
 that she was opposed to my going ; on the 
 contrary, it was she who had most encour- 
 aged me to persevere in my intention to 
 visit Europe, and to conquer or disregard 
 the many obstacles to the plan which rose 
 up before me. She had taken a great in- 
 terest in my artistic career, and much more 
 personal interest in me than I had dared to 
 suppose. She had imagined, and I feel that 
 she had a perfect right to do so, that I felt 
 an equal interest in her ; and when I went 
 away without a word more than any friend 
 might say to another, the girl was hurt. It 
 was not a deep wound ; it was more in the 
 nature of a rebuff. She felt a slight sense 
 of humiliation, and wondered if she had 
 infused more warmth into her intercourse 
 with me than was warranted by the actual 
 quality of our friendship. But she cherished 
 no resentment, and merely put away an 
 almost finished interior, in which I had 
 painted a fair but very distant landscape 
 seen through a partly opened window, and 
 set herself to work on a fresh canvas. 
 
 Chester Parkman, the artist- athlete, whom 
 I have mentioned, was always fond of Kate's 
 society ; but after my departure he came a 
 great deal more frequently to her studio
 
 A BORROWED MONTH. 45 
 
 than before ; and he took it into his head 
 that he would like to have his portrait 
 painted by her. I had never supposed 
 that Parkman's mind was capable of such 
 serviceable subtlety as this, and I take 
 the opportunity here to give him credit for 
 it. Kate's forte was clearly portraiture, 
 although she did not confine herself at 
 that time to this class of work ; and she 
 was well pleased to have such an ad- 
 mirable subject as Chester Parkman, who, 
 if he had not been an artist himself, might 
 have made a very comfortable livelihood by 
 acting as a model for other artists. This 
 portrait-painting business, of which I should 
 have totally disapproved had I known of it, 
 brought them together for an hour every 
 day ; and, although Kate had two or three 
 pupils, they worked in an adjoining room, 
 separated by drapery from her own studio ; 
 and this gave Parkman every opportunity 
 of making himself as agreeable as he could 
 be. His method of accomplishing this, I 
 have reason to believe, was by looking as 
 well as he could rather than by conversa- 
 tional efforts. But he made Kate agreeable 
 to him in a way of which at the time she 
 knew nothing. He so arranged his position 
 that a Venetian mirror in a corner gave
 
 46 A BORROWED MONTH. 
 
 him an admirable view of Kate's face as 
 she sat at her easel. Thus, as she studied 
 his features, his eyes dwelt more and more 
 fondly upon hers, though she noticed it not. 
 This sort of thing went on till Park man 
 found himself in a very bad way. The 
 image of Kate rose up before him when he 
 was not in her studio, and it had such an 
 influence upon him that, if I may so put it, 
 he gradually sunk his lungs, and let his 
 heart rise to the surface. He imagined, 
 though with what reason I am not prepared 
 to say, that he could perceive in Kate's 
 countenance indications of much admiration 
 of her subject, and he flattered himself this 
 was not confined to her consideration of him 
 as a model. In fact, he found that he was 
 very much in love with the girl. If he had 
 been a wise man, he would have postponed 
 proposing to her until his portrait was 
 finished, for if she refused him he would 
 lose both picture and painter. But he was 
 not a wise man, and one day he made up 
 his mind that as soon as she had finished 
 the corner of his mouth, at which she was 
 then at work, he would abandon his pose, 
 and tell her how things stood with him. 
 But a visitor came in, and prevented this 
 plan from being carried out. This interrup-
 
 A BORROWED MONTH. 47 
 
 tion, however, was merely a postponement. 
 Park man determined that on the next day 
 he would settle the matter with Kate the 
 moment he arrived at the studio, or as soon, 
 at least, as he was alone with her. 
 
 If he had known the state of Kate's mind 
 at this time, he would have been very much 
 encouraged. I do not mean to say that any 
 tenderness of sentiment towards him was 
 growing up within her, but she had begun 
 to admire very much this fine, handsome 
 fellow. She took more pleasure in working 
 at his portrait than in any other she had 
 yet done. A man, she had come to think, 
 to be true to art and to his manhood, 
 should look like this one. 
 
 Thus it was that although Kate Balthis 
 had not yet thought of her model with feel- 
 ings that had become fond, it could not be 
 denied that her affections, having lately 
 been obliged to admit that they had no 
 right to consider themselves occupied, were 
 not in a condition to repel a new-comer. 
 And Parkman was a man who, when he had 
 made up his mind to offer his valued self, 
 would do it with a vigour and earnestness 
 that could not easily be withstood. 
 
 It was a long time before Chester Parkman 
 went to sleep that night, so engaged was he
 
 48 A BORROWED MONTH. 
 
 in thinking upon what he was going to do 
 on the morrow. But, shortly after he arose 
 the next morning, he was attacked by a very 
 queer feeling in his left leg, which made it 
 decidedly unpleasant for him when he at- 
 tempted to walk. Indisposition of any kind 
 was exceedingly unusual with the young 
 athlete, but he knew that under the circum- 
 stances the first thing necessary for his 
 accurately developed muscles was absolute 
 rest, and this he gave them. He sent a 
 note to Kate, telling her what had hap- 
 pened to him, and expressing his great 
 regret at not being able to keep his appoint- 
 ment for the day. He would see her, how- 
 ever, at the very earliest possible moment 
 that this most unanticipated disorder would 
 allow him. He sent for a trainer, and had 
 himself rubbed and lotioned, and then be- 
 took himself to a pipe, a novel, and a big 
 easy-chair, having first quieted his much- 
 perturbed soul by assuring it that if he did 
 not get over this thing in a few days, he 
 would write to Kate, and tell her in the 
 letter all he had intended to say. 
 
 The next day, much to his surprise, he 
 arose perfectly well. He walked, he strode, 
 he sprang into the air ; there was absolutely 
 nothing the matter with him. He rejoiced
 
 A BORROWED MONTH. 49 
 
 beyond his power of expression, and deter- 
 mined to visit Kate's studio even earlier 
 than the usual hour ; but before he was 
 ready to start he received a note from her, 
 which stated that she had been obliged to 
 stay at home that day on account of a 
 sudden attack of something like rheuma- 
 tism, and therefore, even if he thought 
 himself well enough, he need not make the 
 exertion necessary to go all the way up to 
 her studio. This note was very prettily ex- 
 pressed, and on the first reading of it Park- 
 man could see nothing in it but a kind 
 desire on the part of the writer that he 
 should know there would be no occasion for 
 him to do himself a possible injury by 
 mounting to her lofty studio before he was 
 entirely recovered. Of course she could not 
 know, he thought, that he would be able to 
 come that day, but it was very good of her 
 to consider the possible contingency. 
 
 But, after sitting down and reflecting on 
 the matter for ten or fifteen minutes, Park- 
 man took a different view of the note. He 
 now perceived that the girl was making fun 
 of him. What imaginable reason was there 
 for believing that she, a perfectly healthy 
 person, should be suddenly afflicted by a 
 rheumatism which apparently was as much 
 
 B.M. j>
 
 50 A BORROWED MONTH. 
 
 like that of which he had told her the day 
 before as one pain could be like another. 
 Yes, she was making game of the muscles 
 and sinews on which he prided himself. 
 She did not believe the excuse he had given, 
 and trumped up this ridiculous ailment to 
 pay him back in his own coin. Chester 
 Parkman was not easily angered, but he 
 allowed this mote to touch him on a tender 
 point. It seemed to intimate that he would 
 asperse his own physical organisation in 
 order to get an excuse for not keeping an 
 appointment. To accuse him of such dis- 
 loyalty was unpardonable. He was very 
 indignant, and said to himself that he 
 would give Miss Balthis some time to come 
 to her senses ; and that if she were that 
 kind of a girl, it would be very well for him 
 to reflect. He wrote a coldly expressed 
 note to Kate, in which he said that, as far 
 as he was concerned, he would not incon- 
 venience her by giving her even the slight- 
 est reason for coming to her studio during 
 the continuance of her most inexplicable 
 malady. 
 
 Mr. Chester Parkman's mind might have 
 been much more legitimately disturbed had 
 he known that during the night before Kate 
 had been lying awake, and had been think-
 
 A BORROWED MONTH. 51 
 
 ing of me. She had heard that day from a 
 friend, to whom I had written, of the great 
 misfortune which had happened to me in 
 Switzerland ; and she had been thinking, 
 dear girl, that if it were possible how gladly 
 would she bear my trouble for a time, and 
 give me a chance to enjoy that lovely land 
 which I had tried so hard to reach. And if 
 he had been told that at that very time, as 
 I lay awake in the early morning, the idea 
 had come into my head, although most in- 
 stantly dismissed, that I should like to be 
 beholden to Kate for a day of Alpine plea- 
 sure, he would reasonably have wondered 
 what that had to do with it. 
 
 After I had become acquainted with these 
 facts, I asked young Tom Latham, the oars- 
 man, to whom I supposed I had transferred 
 my physical condition on the day after I 
 walked with Parkmanic legs to see the sun 
 rise, if he had been at all troubled with 
 rheumatism during the past few months. 
 He replied with some asperity that he had 
 been as right as a trivet straight along ; and 
 why in the world did I imagine he was sub- 
 ject to rheumatism ! 
 
 Of course Kate was annoyed when she re- 
 ceived Parkman's note. She saw that he 
 had taken offence at something, although
 
 52 A BORROWED MONTH. 
 
 she had no idea what it was. But she did 
 not allow this to trouble her long, and said 
 to herself that if Mr. Parkman was angry 
 with her she was very sorry, but she would 
 be content to postpone work on the portrait 
 until he should recover his good humour. 
 
 When she had retired that night she had 
 determined that, if she should not be well 
 enough to go to her studio in a few days, 
 she would send for some of her working 
 materials and try to paint in her room. But 
 the next morning she arose perfectly well. 
 
 If, however, she had known what was going 
 to happen, she would have preferred spend- 
 ing another day in her pleasant chamber 
 with her books and sewing. For, about 
 eleven o'clock in the morning, there walked 
 into her studio Professor Dynard, a gentle- 
 man who for some time had taken a great 
 deal of interest in her and her work. 
 
 She had usually been very well pleased to 
 talk to him, for he was a man of wide infor- 
 mation and good judgment. But this morn- 
 ing there seemed to be something about him 
 which was not altogether pleasant. In the 
 first place, he stood before the unfinished 
 portrait of Chester Parkman, regarding it 
 with evident displeasure. For some minutes 
 he said nothing, but hemmed and grunted.
 
 A BORROWED MONTH. 53 
 
 Presently he turned and remarked, " I don't 
 like it." 
 
 "What is the matter with it?" asked 
 Kate from the easel at which she was at 
 work. " Have I not caught the like- 
 ness?" 
 
 " Oh, that is good enough as far as it 
 goes," said the Professor. "Very good in- 
 deed ! too good ! You are going to make 
 an admirable picture. But I wish you had 
 another subject." 
 
 "Why, I thought myself extraordinarily 
 fortunate in getting so good a one ! " ex- 
 claimed Kate. "Is he not an admirable 
 model ? " 
 
 " Of course he is," said the Professor, "but 
 I don't like to see you painting a young 
 fellow like Parkman. Now, don't be angry," 
 he continued, taking a seat near her and 
 looking around to see if the curtain of the 
 pupils' room was properly drawn. "I take 
 a great interest in your welfare, Miss Balthis, 
 and my primary object in coming here this 
 morning is to tell you so ; and, therefore, 
 you must not be surprised that I was some- 
 what annoyed when I found that you were 
 painting young Parkman's portrait. I don't 
 like you to be painting the portraits of young 
 men, Miss Balthis, and I will tell you why. "
 
 54 A BORROWED MONTH. 
 
 And then he drew his chair a little nearer to 
 her, and offered himself in marriage. 
 
 It must be rather awkward for a young 
 lady artist to be proposed to at eleven o'clock 
 in the morning, when she is sitting at her 
 easel, one hand holding her palette and 
 maul-stick, and the other her brush, and 
 with three girl pupils on the other side of 
 some moderately heavy drapery, probably 
 listening with all their six ears. But in 
 Kate's case the peculiarity of the situation 
 was emphasised by the fact that this was 
 the first time that any one had ever proposed 
 to her. She had expected me to do some- 
 thing of the kind ; and two days before, 
 although she did not know it, she had just 
 missed a declaration from Parkman ; but 
 now it was really happening, and a man 
 was asking her to marry him. And this 
 man was Professor Dynard ! Had Kate 
 been in the habit of regarding him with the 
 thousand eyes of a fly, never, with a single 
 one of those eyes, would she have looked 
 upon him as a lover. But she turned 
 towards him, and sat up very straight, and 
 listened to all he had to say. 
 
 The Professor told a very fair story. He 
 had long admired Miss Balthis, and had 
 ended by loving her. He knew very well
 
 A BOBROWED MONTH. 55 
 
 that he was no longer a young man, but he 
 thought that if she would carefully consider 
 the matter, she would agree with him that 
 he was likely to make her a much better 
 husband than the usual young man could be 
 expected to make. In the first place, the 
 object of his life, as far as fortune was con- 
 cerned, had been accomplished, and he was 
 ready to devote the rest of his days to her, 
 her fortune, and her happiness. He would 
 not ask her to give up her art, but, on the 
 contrary, would afford her every facility for 
 work and study under the most favourable 
 circumstances. He would take her to Europe, 
 to the isles of the sea, wherever she might 
 like to go. She could live in the artistic 
 heart of the world, or in any land where she 
 might be happy. He was a man both able 
 and free to devote himself to her. He had 
 money enough, and he was not bound by 
 circumstances to special work or particular 
 place. Through him the world would be open 
 to her, and his greatest happiness should be 
 to see her enjoy her opportunities. " More 
 than that," he continued, "I want you to 
 remember that, although I am no longer in 
 my first youth, I am very strong, and enjoy 
 excellent health. This is something you 
 should consider very carefully in making an
 
 56 A BORROWED MONTH. 
 
 alliance for life ; for it would be most un- 
 fortunate for you if you should marry a man 
 who, early in life, should become incapaci- 
 tated from pursuing his career, and you 
 should find yourself obliged to provide, not 
 only for yourself, but for him." 
 
 This, Kate knew very well, was intended 
 as a reference to me. Professor Dynard had 
 reason to believe I was much attached to 
 Kate, and he had heard exaggerated ac- 
 counts of my being laid up with rheumatism 
 in Switzerland. It was very good in him to 
 warn her against a man who might become 
 a chronic invalid on her hands ; but Kate 
 said nothing to him, and let him go on. 
 
 "And even these devotees of muscu- 
 larity," said the Professor, " these amateur 
 athletes, are liable to be stricken down at 
 any moment by some unforeseen disease. 
 I do not wish to elevate the body above the 
 mind, Miss Balthis, but these things should 
 be carefully considered. You should marry 
 a man who is not only in vigorous health, 
 but is likely to continue so. And now, my 
 dear Miss Balthis, I do not wish you to 
 utter one word in answer to what I have 
 been saying to you. I want you to con- 
 sider, carefully and earnestly, the proposi- 
 tion I have made. Do not speak now, I
 
 A BORROWED MONTH. 57 
 
 beg of you, for I know I could not expect at 
 this moment a favourable answer. I want 
 you to give your calm judgment an oppor- 
 tunity to come to my aid. On the day 
 after to-morrow I will come to receive your 
 answer. Good-bye." 
 
 During that afternoon and the next day 
 Kate thought of little but of the offer of 
 marriage which had been made to her. 
 Sometimes she regretted that she had not 
 been bold enough to interrupt him with a 
 refusal, and so end the matter. And then, 
 again, she fell to thinking upon the subject 
 of love, thinking and thinking. Naturally 
 her first thoughts fell upon me. But I had 
 not spoken, nor had I written. This could 
 not be accidental. It had a meaning which 
 she ought not to allow herself to overlook. 
 She found, too, while thus turning over the 
 contents of her mind, that she had thought 
 a little, a very little she assured herself, 
 about Chester Parkman. She admitted 
 that there was something insensibly attrac- 
 tive about him, and he had been extremely 
 attentive and kind to her. But even if her 
 thoughts had been inclined to dwell upon 
 him, it would have been ridiculous to allow 
 them to do so now, for in some way she had 
 offended him, and might never see him
 
 58 A BORROWED MONTH. 
 
 again. He must be of a very irritable dis- 
 position. 
 
 And then there came up before her visions 
 of Europe and of the isles of the sea ; of a 
 life amid the art wonders of the world, a 
 life with every wish gratified, every de- 
 sire made possible. Professor Dynard had 
 worked much better than she had supposed 
 at the time he was working. He had not 
 offered her the kind of love she had ex- 
 pected, should love ever be offered, but he 
 had placed before her, immediately and 
 without reserve, everything to which she 
 had expected to attain by the labours of a 
 life. All this was very dangerous thinking 
 for Kate ; the fortifications of her heart 
 were being approached at a very vulnerable 
 point. When she started independently in 
 life, she did not set out with the determina- 
 tion to fall in love, or to have love made to 
 her, or to be married, or anything of the 
 kind. Her purpose was to live an art life ; 
 and to do that as she wished to do it, she 
 would have to work very hard and wait 
 very long. But now, all she had to do was 
 to give a little nod, and the hope of the future 
 would be the fact of the present. Even her 
 own self would be exalted. "What a dif- 
 ferent woman should I be," she thought,
 
 A BORROWED MONTH. 59 
 
 "in Italy or in Egypt." This was a terribly 
 perilous time for Kate. The temptation 
 came directly into the line of her hopes and 
 aspirations. It tinged her mind with a deli- 
 cately spreading rosiness. 
 
 The next morning when she went to her 
 studio she found there a note from Professor 
 Dynard, stating that he could not keep his 
 appointment with her that day on account of 
 a sudden attack of something like rheuma- 
 tism, which made it impossible to leave his 
 room. This indisposition was not a matter 
 of much importance, he wrote, and would 
 probably disappear in a few days, when he 
 would hasten to call upon her. He begged 
 that in the meantime she would continue 
 the consideration of the subject on which he 
 had spoken to her ; and hoped very earnestly 
 that she would arrive at a conclusion which 
 should be favourable to him, and which, in 
 that case, he most sincerely believed would 
 also be favourable to herself. 
 
 When she read this, Kate leaned back in 
 her chair and laughed. " After all he said 
 the other day about the danger of my get- 
 ting a husband who would have to be taken 
 care of, this is certainly very funny ! " She 
 forgot the rosy hues which had been insen- 
 sibly tinting her dreams of the future on the
 
 6O A BORROWED MONTH. 
 
 day before, and only thought of a middle- 
 aged gentleman, with a little bald place on 
 the top of his head, who was subject to rheu- 
 matism, and probably very cross when he 
 was obliged to stay in the house. " It is a 
 shame," she said to herself, "to allow the 
 poor old gentleman to worry his mind about 
 me any longer. It will be no more than a 
 deception to let him lie at home and imagine 
 that as soon as he is well he can come up 
 here and get a favourable answer from me. 
 I '11 write him a note immediately and settle 
 the matter." And this she did, and thereby 
 escaped the greatest danger to herself to 
 which she had ever been exposed. 
 
 Nearly all Kate's art friends had been 
 very much interested in her portrait of 
 Chester Parkman, which, in its nearly com- 
 pleted state, was the best piece of work she 
 had done. Among these friends was Bufford, 
 whose pupil Kate had been, and to whom 
 she had long looked up, not only as to a 
 master, but as to a dear and kind friend. 
 Mrs. Bufford, too, was extremely fond of 
 Kate, and was ever ready to give her 
 counsel and advice, but not in regard to 
 art, which subject she resigned entirely to 
 her husband. It was under Mrs. Bufford's 
 guidance that Kate, when she first came to
 
 A BORROWED MONTH. 6 1 
 
 the city from her home in the interior of 
 the State, selected her boarding-house, her 
 studio, and her church. More than half of 
 her Sundays were spent with these good 
 friends, and they had always considered it 
 their duty to watch over her as if her 
 parents had appointed them her guardians. 
 Bufford was greatly disappointed when he 
 found that the work on Parkman's portrait 
 had been abruptly broken off. He had 
 wished Kate to finish it in time for an ap- 
 proaching exhibition, where he knew it 
 would attract great attention, both from 
 the fact that the subject was so well known 
 in art circles and in society, and because it 
 was going to be, he believed, a most admir- 
 able piece of work. Kate had explained to 
 him, as far as she knew, how matters stood. 
 Mr. Parkman had suddenly become offended 
 with her, why she knew not. He was per- 
 fectly well and able to come, she said, for 
 some of her friends had seen him going 
 about as usual ; but he did not come to her, 
 and she certainly did not intend to ask him 
 to do so. BufFord shook his head a good 
 deal at this, and when he went home and 
 told his wife about it, he expressed his 
 opinion that Kate was not to blame in the 
 matter.
 
 62 A BORROWED MONTH. 
 
 " That young Parkman," he said, " is ex- 
 tremely touchy, and he has an entirely too 
 good opinion of himself ; and by indulging 
 in some of his cranky notions he is seriously . 
 interfering with Kate's career, for she has 
 nothing on hand except his portrait which I 
 would care to have her exhibit." 
 
 "Now don't you be too sure," said Mrs. 
 Bufford, "about Kate not being to blame. 
 Young girls, without the slightest intention, 
 sometimes do and say things which are very 
 irritating, and Kate is just as high-spirited 
 as Parkman is touchy. I have no doubt 
 that the whole quarrel is about some ridicu- 
 lous trifle, and could be smoothed over with 
 a few words, if we could only get the few 
 words said. I was delighted when I heard 
 she was painting Chester's portrait, for I 
 hoped the work would result in something 
 much more desirable even than a good pic- 
 ture." 
 
 " I know you always wanted her to marry 
 him," said Bufford. 
 
 " Yes, and I still want her to do so. And 
 a little piece of nonsense like this should not 
 be allowed to break off the best match I have 
 ever known. " 
 
 " Since our own," suggested her husband. 
 
 ' ' That is understood, " she replied. c ' And
 
 A BORROWED MONTH. 63 
 
 now, do you know what I think is our duty 
 in the premises? We should make it our 
 business to heal this quarrel, and bring 
 these young people together again. I am 
 extremely anxious that no time should be 
 lost in doing this, for it will not be long 
 before young Clinton will be coming home. 
 He was to stay away only three months 
 altogether." 
 
 "And you are afraid he will interfere 
 with your plans ? " said Bufford. 
 
 " Indeed I am," answered his wife. " For 
 a long time Kate and he have been very 
 intimate, entirely too much so, and I was 
 very glad when he went away, and gave 
 poor Chester a chance. Of course there is 
 nothing settled between them so far, be- 
 cause if there had been Clinton would never 
 have allowed that portrait to be thought 
 of." 
 
 "Jealous wretch ! " remarked Bufford. 
 
 "You need not joke about it," said his 
 wife. "It would be a most deplorable thing 
 for Kate to marry Clinton. He has, so far, 
 made no name for himself in art, and no one 
 can say that he ever will. He is poor, and 
 has nothing on earth but what he makes, 
 and it is not probable that he will ever 
 make anything. And, worse than all that,
 
 64 A BORROWED MONTH. 
 
 he has become a chronic invalid. I have 
 heard about his condition in Switzerland." 
 
 " And having originally very little," said 
 her husband, " and having lost the only 
 valuable thing he possessed, you would take 
 away from him even what he expected to 
 have. " 
 
 " He has no right to expect it," said Mrs. 
 Bufford, "and it would be a wicked and 
 cruel thing for him to endeavour to take 
 Kate away from a man like Chester Park- 
 man. Chester is rich, he is handsome, he 
 is in perfect health, and to a girl with an 
 artistic mind like Kate he should be a con- 
 stant joy to look upon." 
 
 "But," said Bufford, "why don't you 
 leave Kate to find out these superiorities 
 for herself ? " 
 
 "It would never do at all. Don't you 
 see how she has let the right man go on 
 account of some trifling misunderstanding ? 
 And Clinton will come home, and find that 
 he has the field all to himself. Now 111 
 tell you what I want you to do. You 
 must go to Kate to-morrow, find out what 
 this trouble is about, and represent to her 
 that she ought not to allow a little mis- 
 understanding to interfere with her career 
 in art."
 
 A BORROWED MONTH. 65 
 
 "Why don't you go yourself ? " said Buf- 
 ford. 
 
 " That is out of the question. I could not 
 put the matter on an art basis, and anything 
 else would rouse Kate's suspicions. And, 
 besides, I want you afterwards to go to 
 Parkman, and talk to him ; and, of course, 
 I could not do that." 
 
 "Very well," said Bufford, "I am going 
 to see them both to-morrow, and will en- 
 deavour to make things straight between 
 them ; but I don't wish to be considered as 
 having anything to do with the matrimonial 
 part of the affair. What I want is to have 
 Kate finish that picture in time for the ex- 
 hibition." 
 
 "You attend to that," said his wife, 
 "and the matrimonial part will take care 
 of itself." 
 
 But Bufford did not see either Kate or 
 Parkman the next day, being prevented 
 from leaving his room by a sudden attack 
 of something like rheumatism. He was a 
 man of strong good sense and persuasive 
 speech, and I think he would have had no' 
 difficulty in bringing Parkman and Kate to- 
 gether again ; and if this had happened, I 
 am very certain that Parkman would have 
 lost no time in declaring his passion. What 
 
 1
 
 66 A BORROWED MONTH. 
 
 would have resulted from this, of course, 
 I cannot say ; but it must be remembered 
 that Kate at that time supposed that she 
 had made a great mistake in regard to my 
 sentiments towards her. In fact, if BufFord 
 had seen the two young people that day, 
 I am afraid, I am very much afraid, that 
 everything would have gone wrong. 
 
 The next day Bufford did see Kate, and 
 easily obtained her permission to call on 
 Parkman, and endeavour to find out what 
 it was that had given him umbrage ; but 
 as the young athlete had started that very 
 morning for a trip to the West, BufFord 
 was obliged to admit to himself, very re- 
 luctantly, that it was probably useless to 
 consider any further the question of Kate's 
 finishing his portrait in time for the ex- 
 hibition. 
 
 When I returned to America, and at the 
 very earliest possible moment presented 
 myself before Kate, I had not been ten 
 seconds in her company before I perceived 
 that I was an accepted lover. How I per- 
 ceived this I will not say, for every one 
 who has been accepted can imagine it for 
 himself ; but I will say that, although 
 raised to the wildest pitch of joy by the 
 discovery, I was very much surprised at it.
 
 A BORROWED MONTH. 67 
 
 I had never told the girl I loved her. I had 
 never asked her to love me. But here it 
 was, all settled, and Kate was my own 
 dear love. Of course, feeling as I did to- 
 wards her, it was easy for me to avoid any 
 backwardness of demeanour, which might 
 indicate to her that I was surprised, and I 
 know that not for a moment did she sus- 
 pect it. Before the end of our interview, 
 however, I found out how I had been ac- 
 cepted without knowing it. It had been 
 on account of the letter I had written Kate 
 from Switzerland. In this very carefully 
 constructed epistle I had hinted at a great 
 many things which I had been careful not 
 to explain, not wishing to put upon paper 
 the story of my series of wonderful deliver- 
 ances, which I intended with my own mouth 
 to tell to Kate. It was a subtly quiet letter, 
 with a substratum of hilariousness, of en- 
 thusiasm, surging beneath it, which some- 
 times showed through the thin places in 
 the surface. Of course, writing to Kate, 
 my mind was full of her, as well as of my 
 deliverances, and in my hypersubtlety I so 
 expressed my feelings in regard to the 
 latter of these subjects that it might easily 
 have been supposed to pertain to the first. 
 In fact, when I afterwards read this letter
 
 68 A BORROWED MONTH. 
 
 I did not wonder at all that the dear girl 
 thought it was a declaration of love. That 
 she made the mistake I shall never cease 
 to rejoice ; for, after leaving Switzerland, I 
 should not have been able, involuntarily 
 and unconsciously, to ward off until my re- 
 turn the attacks of possible lovers. 
 
 From day to day I met nearly all the 
 persons who, without having the slightest 
 idea that they were doing anything of the 
 kind, had been of such wonderful service 
 to me while I was abroad ; and I never 
 failed to make particular inquiries in re- 
 gard to their health the past summer. 
 Most of them replied that they had been 
 very well as a general thing, although now 
 and then they might have been under the 
 weather for a day or two. Few of my 
 friends were people who -were given to re- 
 membering ailments past and gone, and if 
 I had needed any specific information from 
 them in regard to any particular day on 
 which they had been confined to the house 
 by this or that slight disorder, I should not 
 have obtained it. 
 
 But when I called upon Henry Brinton, 
 the editor of "Our Mother Earth," I re- 
 ceived some very definite and interesting 
 information.
 
 A BORROWED MONTH. 69 
 
 " Everything has gone on pretty much as 
 usual since you left," he said, "except that 
 about a month ago we had a visitation of a 
 curious sort of epidemic rheumatism, which 
 actually ran through the office. It attacked 
 me first, but as I understand such things 
 and know very well that outward applica- 
 tions are of no possible use, I took the 
 proper medicine, and in one day, sir, I was 
 entirely cured. The next day, however, 
 Barclay, our book-keeper, was down with 
 it, or, rather, he was obliged to stay at 
 home on account of it. I immediately 
 sent him my bottle of medicine, and the 
 next day he came down to the office per- 
 fectly well. After him Brown, Simmons, 
 Cummings, and White, one after another, 
 were all attacked in the same way, but 
 each was cured by my medicine in a day. 
 The malady, however, seemed gradually to 
 lose its force, and Cummings and White 
 were only slightly inconvenienced, and were 
 able to come to the office." 
 
 All this was very plain to me. Brinton's 
 medicine was indeed the proper remedy 
 for my ailment, and had gradually cured 
 it, so that when I resumed it after my 
 month's exemption, there was very little 
 left of it, and this soon died out of itself.
 
 70 A BORROWED MONTH. 
 
 If I could only have known this, I would 
 have sent it over to Brinton in the first 
 instance. 
 
 In the course of time I related to Kate 
 the strange series of incidents which had 
 finally brought us together. I am sorry to 
 say she did not place entire belief in the out- 
 reaching powers of my mind. She thought 
 that the relief from my disability was due 
 very much to imagination. 
 
 " How," I said, " do you account for 
 those remarkable involuntary holidays of 
 Parkman, yourself, and the others, which 
 were so opportune for me ? " 
 
 "Things did happen very well for you," 
 she said, " although I suppose a great many 
 other people have had a series of lucky events 
 come into their lives. But even if this were 
 all true, I do not think it turned out exactly 
 as it should have done in a moral point of 
 view. Of course I am delighted, you poor 
 boy, that you should have had that charming 
 month in Switzerland, after all the trouble 
 you had gone through ; but wasn't it a little 
 selfish to pass off your disability upon your 
 friends without asking them anything about 
 it?" 
 
 "Well," said I, "it may be that if this 
 affair were viewed from a purely moral
 
 A BORROWED MONTH. "Jl 
 
 standpoint, there was a certain degree of 
 selfishness about it, and it ought to have 
 turned out all wrong for me. But we live 
 in a real world, my dear, and it turned out 
 all right."
 
 A TALE OF NEGATIVE 
 GRAVITY.
 
 A TALE OF NEGATIVE GRAVITY. 
 
 MY wife and I were staying at a small 
 town in northern Italy ; and on a 
 certain pleasant afternoon in spring we had 
 taken a walk of six or seven miles to see 
 the sun set behind some low mountains to 
 the west of the town. Most of our walk 
 had been along a hard, smooth highway, 
 and then we turned into a series of nar- 
 rower roads, sometimes bordered by walls, 
 and sometimes by light fences of reed, or 
 cane. Nearing the mountain, to a low spur 
 of which we intended to ascend, we easily 
 scaled a wall about four feet high, and 
 found ourselves upon pasture land, which 
 led, sometimes by gradual ascents, and 
 sometimes by bits of rough climbing, to 
 the spot we wished to reach. We were 
 afraid we were a little late, and therefore 
 hurried on, running up the grassy hills, and 
 bounding briskly over the rough and rocky 
 places. I carried a knapsack strapped 
 firmly to my shoulders, and under my
 
 76 A TALE OF NEGATIVE GRAVITY. 
 
 wife's arm was a large, soft basket of a 
 kind much used by tourists. Her arm was 
 passed through the handles, and around the 
 bottom of the basket, which she pressed 
 closely to her side. This was the way she 
 always carried it. The basket contained 
 two bottles of wine, one sweet for my wife, 
 and another a little acid for myself. Sweet 
 wines give me a headache. 
 
 When we reached the grassy bluff, well 
 known thereabouts to lovers of sunset views, 
 I stepped immediately to the edge to gaze 
 upon the scene, but my wife sat down to 
 take a sip of wine, for she was very thirsty ; 
 and then, leaving her basket, she came to 
 my side. The scene was indeed one of 
 great beauty. Beneath us stretched a wide 
 valley of many shades of green, with a 
 little river running through it, and red-tiled 
 houses here and there. Beyond rose a 
 range of mountains, pink, pale-green, and 
 purple where their tips caught the reflec- 
 tion of the setting sun, and of a rich grey- 
 green in shadows. Beyond all was the blue 
 Italian sky, illumined by an especially fine 
 suneet. 
 
 My wife and I are Americans, and at the 
 time of this story were middle-aged people 
 and very fond of seeing in each other's
 
 A TALE OF NEGATIVE GRAVITY. 77 
 
 company whatever there was of interest or 
 beauty around us. We had a son about 
 twenty-two years old, of whom we were 
 also very fond, but he was not with us, be- 
 ing at that time a student in Germany. 
 Although we had good health, we were not 
 very robust people, and, under ordinary 
 circumstances, not much given to long coun- 
 try tramps. I was of medium size, without 
 much muscular development, while my wife 
 was quite stout, and growing stouter. 
 
 The reader may, perhaps, be somewhat 
 surprised that a middle-aged couple, not 
 very strong, or very good walkers, the lady 
 loaded with a basket containing two bottles 
 of wine and a metal drinking-cup, and the 
 gentleman carrying a heavy knapsack, rilled 
 with all sorts of odds and ends, strapped to 
 his shoulders, should set off on a seven-mile 
 walk, jump over a wall, run up a hillside, 
 and yet feel in very good trim to enjoy a 
 sunset view. This peculiar state of things I 
 will proceed to explain. 
 
 I had been a professional man, but some 
 years before had retired upon a very com- 
 fortable income. I had always been very 
 fond of scientific pursuits, and now made 
 these the occupation and pleasure of much 
 of my leisure time. Our home was in a
 
 78 A TALE OF NEGATIVE GRAVITY. 
 
 small town ; and in a corner of my grounds 
 I built a laboratory, where I carried on my 
 work and my experiments. I had long been 
 anxious to discover the means, not only of 
 producing, but of retaining and controlling, 
 a natural force, really the same as centri- 
 fugal force, but which I called negative 
 gravity. This name I adopted because it 
 indicated better than any other the action 
 of the force in question, as I produced it. 
 Positive gravity attracts everything toward 
 the centre of the earth. Negative gravity, 
 therefore, would be that power which repels 
 everything from the centre of the earth, just 
 as the negative pole of a magnet repels the 
 needle, while the positive pole attracts it. 
 My object was, in fact, to store centrifugal 
 force, and to render it constant, controllable, 
 and available for use. The advantages of 
 such a discovery could scarcely be described. 
 In a word, it would lighten the burdens of 
 the world. 
 
 I will not touch upon the labours and dis- 
 appointments of several years. It is enough 
 to say that at last I discovered a method of 
 producing, storing, and controlling negative 
 gravity. 
 
 The mechanism of my invention was rather 
 complicated, but the method of operating it
 
 A TALE OF NEGATIVE GRAVITY. 79 
 
 was very simple. A strong metallic case, 
 about eight inches long, and half as wide, 
 contained the machinery for producing the 
 force ; and this was put into action by means 
 of the pressure of a screw worked from the 
 outside. As soon as this pressure was pro- 
 duced, negative gravity began to be evolved 
 and stored, and the greater the pressure the 
 greater the force. As the screw was moved 
 outward, and the pressure diminished, the 
 force decreased, and when the screw was 
 withdrawn to its fullest extent, the action 
 of negative gravity entirely ceased. Thus 
 this force could be produced or dissipated at 
 will to such degrees as might be desired, 
 and its action, so long as the requisite pres- 
 sure was maintained, was constant. 
 
 When this little apparatus worked to my 
 satisfaction I called my wife into my labora- 
 tory and explained to her my invention and 
 its value. She had known that I had been 
 at work with an important object, but I had 
 never told her what it was. I had said that 
 if I succeeded I would tell her all, but if I 
 failed she need not be troubled with the 
 matter at all. Being a very sensible woman, 
 this satisfied her perfectly. Now I explained 
 everything to her, the construction of the 
 machine, and the wonderful uses to which
 
 8o A TALE OF NEGATIVE GRAVITY. 
 
 this invention could be applied. I told her 
 that it could diminish, or entirely dissipate, 
 the weight of objects of any kind. A heavily 
 loaded wagon, with two of these instruments 
 fastened to its sides, and each screwed to a 
 proper force, would be so lifted and sup- 
 ported that it would press upon the ground 
 as lightly as an empty cart, and a small 
 horse could draw it with ease. A bale of 
 cotton, with one of these machines attached, 
 could be handled and carried by a boy. A 
 car, with a number of these machines, could 
 be made to rise in the air like a balloon. 
 Everything, in fact, that was heavy could 
 be made light ; and as a great part of labour, 
 all over the world, is caused by the attrac- 
 tion of gravitation, so this repellent force, 
 wherever applied, would make weight less 
 and work easier. I told her of many, many 
 ways in which the invention might be used, 
 and would have told her of many more if 
 she had not suddenly burst into tears. 
 
 " The world has gained something wonder- 
 ful," she exclaimed, between her sobs, "but 
 I have lost a husband ! " 
 
 " What do you mean by that ? " I asked, 
 in surprise. 
 
 "I haven't minded it so far," she said, 
 " because it gave you something to do, and
 
 A TALE OF NEGATIVE GRAVITY. 8 1 
 
 it pleased you, and it never interfered with 
 our home pleasures and our home life. But 
 now that is all over. You will never be 
 your own master again. It will succeed, I 
 am sure, and you may make a great deal of 
 money, but we don't need money. What 
 we need is the happiness which we have 
 always had until now. Now there will be 
 companies, and patents, and lawsuits, and 
 experiments, and people calling you a hum- 
 bug, and other people saying they discovered 
 it long ago, and all sorts of persons coming 
 to see you, and you '11 be obliged to go to 
 all sorts of places, and you will be an altered 
 man, and we shall never be happy again. 
 Millions of money will not repay us for the 
 happiness we have lost. " 
 
 These words of my wife struck me with 
 much force. Before I had called her my 
 mind had begun to be filled and perplexed 
 with ideas of what I ought to do now that 
 the great invention was perfected. Until 
 now the matter had not troubled me at all. 
 Sometimes I had gone backward and some- 
 times forward, but, on the whole, I had 
 always felt encouraged. I had taken great 
 pleasure in the work, but I had never 
 allowed myself to be too much absorbed by 
 it. But now everything was different. I
 
 82 A TALE OF NEGATIVE GRAVITY. 
 
 began to feel that it was due to myself 
 and to my fellow-beings, that I should pro- 
 perly put this invention before the world. 
 And how should I set about it? What 
 steps should I take ? I must make no mis- 
 takes. When the matter should become 
 known hundreds of scientific people might 
 set themselves to work ; how could I tell but 
 that they might discover other methods of 
 producing the same effect ? I must guard my- 
 self against a great many things. I must get 
 patents in all parts of the world. Already, 
 as I have said, my mind began to be troubled 
 and perplexed with these things. A turmoil 
 of this sort did not suit my age or disposition. 
 I could not but agree with my wife that the 
 joys of a quiet and contented life were now 
 about to be broken into. 
 
 "My dear," said I, "I believe, with you, 
 that the thing will do us more harm than 
 good. If it were not for depriving the world 
 of the invention, I would throw the whole 
 thing to the winds. And yet," I added, 
 regretfully, ' ' I had expected a great deal of 
 personal gratification from the use of this 
 invention. " 
 
 " Now, listen," said my wife eagerly, 
 ' ' don't you think it would be best to do 
 this : use the thing as much as you please
 
 A TALE OF NEGATIVE GRAVITY. 83 
 
 for your own amusement and satisfaction, 
 but let the world wait. It has waited a 
 long time, and let it wait a little longer. 
 When we are dead let Herbert have the in- 
 vention. He will then be old enough to 
 judge for himself whether it will be better 
 to take advantage of it for his own profit, 
 or simply to give it to the public for nothing. 
 It would be cheating him if we were to do 
 the latter, but it would also be doing him a 
 great wrong if we were, at his age, to load 
 him with such a heavy responsibility. Be- 
 sides, if he took it up, you could not help 
 going into it too." 
 
 I took my wife's advice. I wrote a care- 
 ful and complete account of the invention, 
 and, sealing it up, I gave it to my lawyers 
 to be handed to my son after my death. If 
 he died first, I would make other arrange- 
 ments. Then I determined to get all the 
 good and fun out of the thing that was pos- 
 sible without telling any one anything about 
 it. Even Herbert, who was away from home, 
 was not to be told of the invention. 
 
 The first thing I did was to buy a strong 
 leathern knapsack, and inside of this I 
 fastened my little machine, with a screw 
 so arranged that it could be worked from 
 the outside. Strapping this firmly to my
 
 54 A TALE OF NEGATIVE GRAVITY. 
 
 shoulders, my wife gently turned the screw 
 at the back until the upward tendency of 
 the knapsack began to lift and sustain me. 
 When I felt myself so gently supported and 
 upheld that I seemed to weigh about thirty 
 or forty pounds, I would set out for a walk. 
 The knapsack did not raise me from the 
 ground, but it gave me a very buoyant step. 
 It was no labour at all to walk ; it was a 
 delight, an ecstasy. With the strength of a 
 man and the weight of a child, I gaily strode 
 along. The first day I walked half a dozen 
 miles at a very brisk pace, and came back 
 without feeling in the least degree tired. 
 These walks now became one of the greatest 
 joys of my life. When nobody was looking 
 I would bound over a fence, sometimes just 
 touching it with one hand, and sometimes 
 not touching it at all. I delighted in rough 
 places. I sprang over streams. I jumped 
 and I ran. I felt like Mercury himself. 
 
 I now set about making another machine, 
 so that my wife could accompany me in my 
 walks ; but when it was finished she posi- 
 tively refused to use it. "I can't wear a 
 knapsack," she said, "and there is no other 
 good way of fastening it to me. Besides, 
 everybody about here knows I am no walker, 
 and it would only set them talking."
 
 A TALE OF NEGATIVE GRAVITY. &5 
 
 I occasionally made use of this second 
 machine, but I will only give one instance of 
 its application. Some repairs were needed to 
 the foundation-walls of my barn, and a two- 
 horse wagon, loaded with building-stone, had 
 been brought into my yard and left there. 
 In the evening, when the men had gone 
 away, I took my two machines and fastened 
 them with strong chains, one on each side of 
 the loaded wagon. Then, gradually turning 
 the screws, the wagon was so lifted that its 
 weight became very greatly diminished. We 
 had an old donkey which used to belong to 
 Herbert, and which was now occasionally 
 used with a small cart to bring packages 
 from the station. I went into the barn and 
 put the harness on the little fellow, and, 
 bringing him out to the wagon, I attached 
 him to it. In this position he looked very 
 funny, with a long pole sticking out in front 
 of him and the great wagon behind him. 
 When all was ready, I touched him up ; and, 
 to my great delight, he moved off with the 
 two-horse load of stone as easily as if he were 
 drawing his own cart. I led him out into 
 the public road, along which he proceeded 
 without difficulty. He was an opinionated 
 little beast, and sometimes stopped, not 
 liking the peculiar manner in which he was
 
 86 A TALE OF NEGATIVE GRAVITY. 
 
 harnessed ; but a touch of the switch made 
 him move on, and I soon turned him and 
 brought the wagon back into the yard. This 
 determined the success of my invention in 
 one of its most important uses, and with a 
 satisfied heart I put the donkey into the 
 stable and went into the house. 
 
 Our trip to Europe was made a few months 
 after this, and was mainly on our son Her- 
 bert's account. He, poor fellow, was in great 
 trouble, and so, therefore, were we. He had 
 become engaged, with our full consent, to a 
 young lady in our town, the daughter of a 
 gentleman whom we esteemed very highly. 
 Herbert was young to be engaged to be 
 married, but as \ve felt that he would never 
 find a girl to make him so good a wife, we 
 were entirely satisfied, especially as it was 
 agreed on all hands that the marriage was 
 not to take place for some time. It seemed 
 to us that in marrying Janet Gilbert, Her- 
 bert would secure for himself, in the very 
 beginning of his career, the most important 
 element of a happy life. But suddenly, with- 
 out any reason that seemed to us justifiable, 
 Mr. Gilbert, the only surviving parent of 
 Janet, broke off the match ; and he and his 
 daughter soon after left the town for a trip 
 to the West.
 
 A TALE OF NEGATIVE GRAVITY. 87 
 
 This blow nearly broke poor Herbert's 
 heart. He gave up his professional studies 
 and came home to us, and for a time we 
 thought he would be seriously ill. Then we 
 took him to Europe, and after a Continental 
 tour of a month or two we left him, at his 
 own request, in Gottingen, where he thought 
 it would do him good to go to work again. 
 Then we went down to the little town in 
 Italy where my story first finds us. My 
 wife had suffered much in mind and body 
 on her son's account, and for this reason I 
 was anxious that she should take outdoor 
 exercise, and enjoy as much as possible the 
 bracing air of the country. I had brought 
 with me both my little machines. One was 
 still in my knapsack, and the other I had 
 fastened to the inside of an enormous family 
 trunk. As one is obliged to pay for nearly 
 every pound of his baggage on the Conti- 
 nent, this saved me a great deal of money. 
 Everything heavy was packed into this great 
 trunk, books, papers, the bronze, iron, and 
 marble relics we had picked up, and all the 
 articles that usually weigh down a tourist's 
 baggage. I screwed up the negative gravity 
 apparatus until the trunk could be handled 
 with great ease by an ordinary porter. I 
 could have made it weigh nothing at all,
 
 88 A TALE OF NEGATIVE GRAVITY. 
 
 but this, of course, I did not wish to do. 
 The lightness of my baggage, however, had 
 occasioned some comment, and I had over- 
 heard remarks which were not altogether 
 complimentary about people travelling 
 around with empty trunks ; but this only 
 amused me. 
 
 Desirous that my wife should have the 
 advantage of negative gravity while taking 
 our walks, I had removed the machine from 
 the trunk and fastened it inside of the 
 basket, which she could carry under her 
 arm. This assisted her wonderfully. When 
 one arm was tired she put the basket under 
 the other, and thus, with one hand on my 
 arm, she could easily keep up with the free 
 and buoyant steps my knapsack enabled me 
 to take. She did not object to long tramps 
 here, because nobody knew that she was not 
 a walker, and she always carried some wine 
 or other refreshment in the basket, not only 
 because it was pleasant to have it with us, 
 but because it seemed ridiculous to go about 
 carrying an empty basket. 
 
 There were English-speaking people stop- 
 ping at the hotel where we were, but they 
 seemed more fond of driving than walking, 
 and none of them offered to accompany us 
 on our rambles, for which we were very
 
 A TALE OF NEGATIVE GRAVITY. 89 
 
 glad. There was one man there, however, 
 who was a great walker. He was an En- 
 glishman, a member of an Alpine Club, and 
 generally went about dressed in a knicker- 
 bocker suit, with grey woollen stockings 
 covering an enormous pair of calves. One 
 evening this gentleman was talking to me 
 and some others about the ascent of the 
 Matterhorn, and I took occasion to deliver 
 in pretty strong language my opinion upon 
 such exploits. I declared them to be use- 
 less, foolhardy, and, if the climber had any 
 one who loved him, wicked. 
 
 " Even if the weather should permit a 
 view," I said, " what is that compared to the 
 terrible risk to life ? Under certain circum- 
 stances, " I added (thinking of a kind of waist- 
 coat I had some idea of making, which, set 
 about with little negative gravity machines, 
 all connected with a conveniently handled 
 screw, would enable the wearer at times to 
 dispense with his weight altogether), "such 
 ascents might be divested of danger, and be 
 quite admissible ; but ordinarily they should 
 be frowned upon by the intelligent public." 
 
 The Alpine Club man looked at me, 
 especially regarding my somewhat slight 
 figure and thinnish legs. 
 
 " It 's all very well for you to talk that
 
 90 A TALE OF NEGATIVE GRAVITY. 
 
 way," he said, "because it is easy to see 
 that you are not up to that sort of thing." 
 
 "In conversations of this kind," I re- 
 plied, "I never make personal allusions ; 
 but since you have chosen to do so, I 
 feel inclined to invite you to walk with 
 me to-morrow to the top of the mountain to 
 the north of this town." 
 
 "I'll do it," he said, "at any time you 
 choose to name." And as I left the room 
 soon afterward I heard him laugh. 
 
 The next afternoon, about two o'clock, 
 the Alpine Club man and myself set out for 
 the mountain. 
 
 " What have you got in your knapsack ? " 
 he said. 
 
 " A hammer, to use if I come across geo- 
 logical specimens, a field-glass, a flask of 
 wine, and some other things." 
 
 " I wouldn't carry any weight, if I were 
 you," he said. 
 
 "Oh, I don't mind it," I answered, and 
 off we started. 
 
 The mountain to which we were bound 
 was about two miles from the town. Its 
 nearest side was steep, and in places almost 
 precipitous, but it sloped away more gradu- 
 ally toward the north, and up that side a 
 road led by devious windings to a village
 
 A TALE OF NEGATIVE GRAVITY. QI 
 
 near the summit. It was not a very high 
 mountain, but it would do for an afternoon's 
 climb. 
 
 "I suppose you want to go up by the 
 road," said my companion. 
 
 "Oh no," I answered, "we won't go so 
 far around as that. There is a path up this 
 side, along which I have seen men driving 
 their goats. I prefer to take that." 
 
 "All right, if you say so," he answered, 
 with a smile; "but you'll find it pretty 
 tough." 
 
 After a time he remarked 
 
 " I wouldn't walk so fast, if I were you." 
 
 "Oh, I like to step along briskly," I said. 
 And briskly on we went. 
 
 My wife had screwed up the machine in 
 the knapsack more than usual, and walking 
 seemed scarcely any effort at all. I carried 
 a long alpenstock, and when we reached 
 the mountain and began the ascent, I found 
 that with the help of this and my knapsack 
 I could go uphill at a wonderful rate. My 
 companion had taken the lead, so as to show 
 me how to climb. Making a detour over 
 some rocks, I quickly passed him and went 
 ahead. After that it was impossible for 
 him to keep up with me. I ran up steep 
 places, I cut off the windings of the path by
 
 92 A TALE OF NEGATIVE GRAVITY. 
 
 lightly clambering over rocks, and even 
 when I followed the beaten track my step 
 was as rapid as if I had been walking on 
 level ground. 
 
 "Look here !" shouted the Alpine Club 
 man from below, "you'll kill yourself if 
 you go at that rate ! That 's no way to 
 climb mountains." 
 
 " It 's my way ! " I cried. And on I 
 skipped. 
 
 Twenty minutes after I arrived at the 
 summit my companion joined me, puffing, 
 and wiping his red face with his handker- 
 chief. 
 
 " Confound it !" he cried, " I never came 
 up a mountain so fast in my life." 
 
 "You need not have hurried," I said 
 coolly. 
 
 " I was afraid something would happen 
 to you," he growled, "and I wanted to 
 stop you. I never saw a person climb in 
 such an utterly absurd way." 
 
 " I don't see why you should call it 
 absurd," I said, smiling with an air of 
 superiority. " I arrived here in a perfectly 
 comfortable condition, neither heated nor 
 wearied." 
 
 He made no answer, but walked off to a 
 little distance, fanning himself with his hat
 
 A TALE OF NEGATIVE GRAVITY. 93 
 
 and growling words which I did not catch. 
 After a time I proposed to descend. 
 
 "You must be careful as you go down," 
 he said. " It is much more dangerous to go 
 down steep places than to climb up. " 
 
 " I am always prudent," I answered, and 
 started in advance. I found the descent of 
 the mountain much more pleasant than the 
 ascent. It was positively exhilarating. I 
 jumped from rocks and bluffs eight and ten 
 feet in height, and touched the ground as 
 gently as if I had stepped down but two 
 feet. I ran down steep paths, and, with 
 the aid of my alpenstock, stopped myself in 
 an instant. I was careful to avoid danger- 
 ous places, but the runs and jumps I made 
 were such as no man had ever made before 
 upon that mountain-side. Once only I heard 
 my companion's voice. 
 
 ' ' You '11 break your neck ! " he yelled. 
 
 "Never fear!" I called back, and soon 
 left him far above. 
 
 When I reached the bottom I would have 
 waited for him, but my activity had warmed 
 me up, and as a cool evening breeze was be- 
 ginning to blow I thought it better not to 
 stop and take cold. Half an hour after my 
 arrival at the hotel I came down to the 
 court, cool, fresh, and dressed for dinner,
 
 94 A TALE OF NEGATIVE GRAVITY. 
 
 and just in time to meet the Alpine man as 
 he entered, hot, dusty, and growling. 
 
 " Excuse me for not waiting for you," I 
 said ; but without stopping to hear my 
 reason, he muttered something about wait- 
 ing in a place where no one would care to 
 stay, and passed into the house. 
 
 There was no doubt that what I had done 
 gratified my pique and tickled my vanity. 
 
 " I think now," I said, when I related the 
 matter to my wife, " that he will scarcely 
 say that I am not up to that sort of thing/' 
 
 " I am not sure," she answered, " that it 
 was exactly fair. He did not know how you 
 were assisted." 
 
 "It was fair enough," I said. "He is 
 enabled to climb well by the inherited vigour 
 of his constitution and by his training. He 
 did not tell me what methods of exercise he 
 used to get those great muscles upon his 
 legs. I am enabled to climb by the exercise 
 of my intellect. My method is my business 
 and his method is his business. It is all 
 perfectly fair. " 
 
 Still she persisted 
 
 "He thought that you climbed with your 
 legs, and not with your head." 
 
 And now, after this long digression, neces- 
 sary to explain how a middle-aged couple
 
 A TALE OF NEGATIVE GRAVITY. 95 
 
 of slight pedestrian ability, and loaded with 
 a heavy knapsack and basket, should have 
 started out on a rough walk and climb, four- 
 teen miles in all, we will return to ourselves, 
 standing on the little bluff and gazing out 
 upon the sunset view. When the sky begaii 
 to fade a little we turned from it and pre- 
 pared to go back to the town. 
 
 " Where is the basket ? " I said. 
 
 " I left it right here," answered my wife. 
 " I unscrewed the machine and it lay per- 
 fectly flat." 
 
 *' Did you afterward take out the bottles?" 
 I asked, seeing them lying on the grass. 
 
 " Yes, I believe I did. I had to take out 
 yours in order to get at mine." 
 
 "Then," said I, after looking all about 
 the grassy patch on which we stood, " I 
 am afraid you did not entirely unscrew the 
 instrument, and that when the weight of the 
 bottles was removed the basket gently rose 
 into the air." 
 
 "It may be so," she said lugubriously. 
 "The basket was behind me as I drank my 
 wine." 
 
 "I believe that is just what has hap- 
 pened," I said. "Look up there ! I vow 
 that is our basket ! " 
 
 I pulled out my field -glass and directed it
 
 96 A TALE OF NEGATIVE GRAVITY. 
 
 at a little speck high above our heads. It 
 was the basket floating high in the air. I 
 gave the glass to my wife to look, but she 
 did not want to use it. 
 
 " What shall I do ? " she cried. " I can't 
 walk home without that basket. It 's per- 
 fectly dreadful ! " And she looked as if she 
 was going to cry. 
 
 "Do not distress yourself," I said, al- 
 though I was a good deal disturbed myself. 
 " We shall get home very well. You shall 
 put your hand on my shoulder, while I put 
 my arm around you. Then you can screw 
 up my machine a good deal higher, and it 
 will support us both. In this way I am 
 sure that we shall get on very well." 
 
 We carried out this plan, and managed to 
 walk on with moderate comfort. To be sure, 
 with the knapsack pulling me upward, and 
 the weight of my wife pulling me down, the 
 straps hurt me somewhat, which they had 
 not done before. We did not spring lightly 
 over the wall into the road, but, still cling- 
 ing to each other, we clambered awkwardly 
 over it. The road for the most part declined 
 gently toward the town, and with moderate 
 ease we made our way along it. But we 
 walked much more slowly than we had 
 done before, and it was quite dark when
 
 A TALE OF NEGATIVE GRAVITY. 97 
 
 we reached our hotel. If it had not been 
 for the light inside the court it would have 
 been difficult for us to find it. A travelling- 
 carriage was standing before the entrance, 
 and against the light. It was necessary to 
 pass around it, and my wife went first. I 
 attempted to follow her, but, strange to say, 
 there was nothing under my feet. I stepped 
 vigorously, but only wagged my legs in the 
 air. To my horror I found that I was rising 
 in the air ! I soon saw, by the light below 
 me, that I was some fifteen feet from the 
 ground. The carriage drove away, and in 
 the darkness I was not noticed. Of course 
 I knew what had happened. The instru- 
 ment in my knapsack had been screwed up 
 to such an intensity, in order to support 
 both myself and my wife, that when her 
 weight was removed the force of the nega- 
 tive gravity was sufficient to raise me from 
 the ground. But I was glad to find that 
 when I had risen to the height I have men- 
 tioned I did not go up any higher, but hung 
 in the air, about on a level with the second 
 tier of windows of the hotel. 
 
 I now began to try to reach the screw in 
 my knapsack in order to reduce the force of 
 the negative gravity ; but, do what I would, 
 I could not get my hand to it. The machine 
 
 B. M. G
 
 98 A TALE OF NEGATIVE GRAVITY. 
 
 in the knapsack had been placed so as to 
 support me in a well-balanced and comfort- 
 able way ; and in doing this it had been 
 impossible to set the screw so that I could 
 reach it. But in a temporary arrangement 
 of the kind this had not been considered 
 necessary, as my wife always turned the 
 screw for me until sufficient lifting-power 
 had been attained. I had intended, as I 
 have said before, to construct a negative 
 gravity waistcoat, in which the screw should 
 be in front, and entirely under the wearer's 
 control ; but this was a thing of the future. 
 When I found that I could not turn the 
 screw I began to be much alarmed. Here I 
 was, dangling in the air, without any means 
 of reaching the ground. I could not expect 
 my wife to return to look for me, as she 
 would naturally suppose I had stopped to 
 speak to some one. I thought of loosening 
 myself from the knapsack, but this would 
 not do, for I should fall heavily, and either 
 kill myself or break some of my bones. I 
 did not dare to call for assistance, for if any 
 of the simple-minded inhabitants of the 
 town had discovered me floating in the air 
 they would have taken me for a demon, and 
 would probably have shot at me. A mode- 
 rate breeze was blowing, and it wafted me
 
 A TALE OF NEGATIVE GRAVITY. 99 
 
 gently down the street. If it had blown 
 me against a tree I would have seized it, 
 and have endeavoured, so to speak, to climb 
 down it ; but there were no trees. There 
 was a dim street lamp here and there, but 
 reflectors above them threw their light upon 
 the pavement, and none up to me. On 
 many accounts I was glad that the night 
 was so dark, for, much as I desired to get 
 down, I wanted no one to see me in my 
 strange position, which, to any one but my- 
 self and wife, would be utterly unaccount- 
 able. If I could rise as high as the roofs I 
 might get on one of them, and, tearing off an 
 armful of tiles, so load myself that I would 
 be heavy enough to descend. But I did not 
 rise to the eaves of any of the houses. If 
 there had been a telegraph-pole, or anything 
 of the kind that I could have clung to, I 
 would have taken off the knapsack, and 
 would have endeavoured to scramble down 
 as well as I could. But there was nothing 
 I could cling to. Even the water-spouts, if 
 I could have reached the face of the houses, 
 were embedded in the walls. At an open 
 window, near which I was slowly blown, I 
 saw two little boys going to bed by the 
 light of a dim candle. I was dreadfully 
 afraid that they would see me and raise an
 
 100 A TALE OF NEGATIVE GRAVITY. 
 
 alarm. I actually came so near to the 
 window that I threw out one foot and 
 pushed against the wall with such force 
 that I went nearly across the street. I 
 thought I caught sight of a frightened look 
 on the face of one of the boys ; but of this 
 I am not sure, and I heard no cries. I 
 still floated, dangling, down the street. 
 What was to be done ? Should I call out ? 
 In that case, if I were not shot or stoned, 
 my strange predicament, and the secret of 
 my invention, would be exposed to the 
 world. If I did not do this I must either 
 let myself drop and be killed or mangled, 
 or hang there and die. "When, during 
 the course of the night, the air became 
 more rarefied, I might rise higher and 
 higher, perhaps to an altitude of one or 
 two hundred feet. It would then be im- 
 possible for the people to reach me and get 
 me down, even if they were convinced that 
 I was not a demon. I should then expire, 
 and when the birds of the air had eaten all 
 of me that they could devour, I should for 
 ever hang above the unlucky town, a dang- 
 ling skeleton, with a knapsack on its back. 
 
 Such thoughts were not reassuring, and 
 I determined that if I could find no means 
 of getting down without assistance. I would
 
 A TALE OF NEGATIVE GRAVITY. IOI 
 
 call out and run all risks ; but so long as I 
 could endure the tension of the straps I 
 would hold out and hope for a tree or a 
 pole. Perhaps it might rain, and my wet 
 clothes would then become so heavy that I 
 would descend as low as the top of a lamp- 
 post. 
 
 As this thought was passing through my 
 mind I saw a spark of light upon the street 
 approaching me. I rightly imagined that it 
 came from a tobacco-pipe, and presently I 
 heard a voice. It was that of the Alpine 
 Club man. Of all people in the world I did 
 not want him to discover me, and I hung 
 as motionless as possible. The man was 
 speaking to another person who was walk- 
 ing with him. 
 
 "He is crazy beyond a doubt," said the 
 Alpine man. " Nobody but a maniac could 
 have gone up and down that mountain as 
 he did ! He hasn't any muscles, and one 
 need only look at him to know that he 
 couldn't do any climbing in a natural way. 
 It is only the excitement of insanity that 
 gives him strength." 
 
 The two now stopped almost under me, 
 and the speaker continued 
 
 " Such things are very common with 
 maniacs. At times they acquire an un-
 
 102 A TALE OF NEGATIVE GRAVITY. 
 
 natural strength which is perfectly wonder- 
 ful. I have seen a little fellow struggle and 
 fight so that four strong men could not hold 
 him." 
 
 Then the other person spoke 
 
 " I am afraid what you say is too true," 
 he remarked. "Indeed, I have known it for 
 some time." 
 
 At these words my breath almost stopped. 
 It was the voice of Mr. Gilbert, my towns- 
 man, and the father of Janet. It must have 
 been he who had arrived in the travelling-car- 
 riage. He was acquainted with the Alpine 
 Club man, and they were talking of me. 
 Proper or improper, I listened with all my 
 ears. 
 
 " It is a very sad case," Mr. Gilbert con- 
 tinued. " My daughter was engaged to 
 marry his son, but I broke off the match. 
 I could not have her marry the son of a 
 lunatic, and there could be no doubt of his 
 condition. He has been seen a man of his 
 age, and the head of a family to load him- 
 self up with a heavy knapsack, which there 
 was no earthly necessity for him to carry, 
 and go skipping along the road for miles, 
 vaulting over fences and jumping over rocks 
 and ditches like a young calf or colt. I my- 
 self saw a most heartrending instance of
 
 A TALE OF NEGATIVE GRAVITY. 103 
 
 how a kindly man's nature can be changed 
 by the derangement of his intellect. I 
 was at some distance from his house, but 
 I plainly saw him harness a little donkey 
 which he owns to a large two-horse wagon 
 loaded with stone, and beat and lash the 
 poor little beast until it drew the heavy 
 load some distance along the public road. 
 I would have remonstrated with him on this 
 horrible cruelty, but he had the wagon back 
 in his yard before I could reach him." 
 
 " Oh, there can be no doubt of his in- 
 sanity," said the Alpine Club man, "and 
 he oughtn't to be allowed to travel about 
 in this way. Some day he will pitch his 
 wife over a precipice just for the fun of 
 seeing her shoot through the air." 
 
 " I am sorry he is here," said Mr. Gil- 
 bert, " for it would be very painful to meet 
 him. My daughter and I will retire very 
 soon, and go away as early to-morrow 
 morning as possible, so as to avoid seeing 
 him." 
 
 And then they walked back to the hotel. 
 
 For a few moments I hung, utterly forget- 
 ful of my condition, and absorbed in the con- 
 sideration of these revelations. One idea 
 now filled my mind. Everything must be 
 explained to Mr. Gilbert, even if it should
 
 104 A TALE OF NEGATIVE GRAVITY. 
 
 be necessary to have him called to me, and 
 for me to speak to him from the upper 
 air. 
 
 Just then I saw something white appoach- 
 ing me along the road. My eyes had be- 
 come accustomed to the darkness, and I 
 perceived that it was an upturned face. I 
 recognised the hurried gait, the form ; it 
 was my wife. As she came near me I called 
 her name, and in the same breath entreated 
 her not to scream. It must have been an 
 effort for her to restrain herself, but she did 
 it. 
 
 "You must help me to get down," I said, 
 "without anybody seeing us." 
 
 " What shall I do ? " she whispered. 
 
 "Try to catch hold of this string." 
 
 Taking a piece of twine from my pocket, 
 I lowered one end to her. But it was too 
 short ; she could not reach it. I then tied 
 my handkerchief to it, but still it was not 
 long enough. 
 
 " I can get more string, or handkerchiefs," 
 she whispered hurriedly. 
 
 " No," I said ; "you could not get them up 
 to me. But, leaning against the hotel wall, 
 on this side, in the corner, just inside of the 
 garden gate, are some fishing-poles. I have 
 seen them there every day. You can easily
 
 A TALE OF NEGATIVE GRAVITY. IO5 
 
 find them in the dark. Go, please, and bring 
 me one of those." 
 
 The hotel was not far away, and in a few 
 minutes my wife returned with a fishing- 
 pole. She stood on tiptoe, and reached it 
 high in air ; but all she could do was to 
 strike my feet and legs with it. My most 
 frantic exertions did not enable me to get 
 my hands low enough to touch it. 
 
 " Wait a minute," she said ; and the rod 
 was withdrawn. 
 
 I knew what she was doing. There was 
 a hook and line attached to the pole, and 
 with womanly dexterity she was fastening 
 the hook to the extreme end of the rod. 
 Soon she reached up, and gently struck at 
 my legs. After a few attempts the hook 
 caught in my trousers, a little below my 
 right knee. Then there was a slight pull, 
 a long scratch down my leg, and the hook 
 was stopped by the top of my boot. Then 
 came a steady downward pull, and I felt 
 myself descending. Gently and firmly the 
 rod was drawn down ; carefully the lower 
 end was kept free from the ground ; and in 
 a few moments my ankle was seized with a 
 vigorous grasp. Then some one seemed to 
 climb up me, my feet touched the ground, 
 an arm was thrown around my neck, the
 
 IO6 A TALE OF NEGATIVE GRAVITY. 
 
 hand of another arm was busy at the back 
 of my knapsack, and I soon stood firmly 
 in the road, entirely divested of negative 
 gravity. 
 
 "Oh that I should have forgotten, 11 
 sobbed my wife, "and that I should have 
 dropped your arms, and let you go up into 
 the air ! At first I thought that you had 
 stopped below, and it was only a little 
 while ago that the truth flashed upon me. 
 Then I rushed out and began looking up for 
 you. I knew that you had wax matches in 
 your pocket, and hoped that you would 
 keep on striking them, so that you would 
 be seen." 
 
 "But I did not wish to be seen/' I said, 
 as we hurried to the hotel; "and I can 
 never be sufficiently thankful that it was 
 you who found me and brought me down. 
 Do you know that it is Mr. Gilbert and his 
 daughter who have just arrived ? I must 
 see him instantly. I will explain it all to 
 you when I come upstairs." 
 
 I took off my knapsack and gave it to my 
 wife, who carried it to our room, while I 
 went to look for Mr. Gilbert. Fortunately 
 I found him just as he was about to go up 
 to his chamber. He took my offered hand, 
 but looked at me sadly and gravely.
 
 A TALE OF NEGATIVE GRAVITY. IO7 
 
 "Mr. Gilbert," I said, " I must speak to 
 you in private. Let us step into this room. 
 There is no one here. " 
 
 "My friend," said Mr. Gilbert, "it will 
 be much better to avoid discussing this 
 subject. It is very painful to both of 
 us, and no good can come from talking 
 of it." 
 
 4 ' You cannot now comprehend what it is 
 I want to say to you," I replied. "Come 
 in here, and in a few minutes you will be 
 very glad that you listened to me." 
 
 My manner was so earnest and impressive 
 that Mr. Gilbert was constrained to follow 
 me, and we went into a small room called 
 the smoking-room, but in which people 
 seldom smoked, and closed the door. I im- 
 mediately began my statement. I told my 
 old friend that I had discovered, by means 
 that I need not explain at present, that he 
 had considered me crazy, and that now the 
 most important object of my life was to set 
 myself right in his eyes. I thereupon gave 
 him the whole history of my invention, and 
 explained the reason of the actions that had 
 appeared to him those of a lunatic. I said 
 nothing about the little incident of that eve- 
 ning. That was a mere accident, and I did 
 not care now to speak of it.
 
 108 A TALE OF NEGATIVE GRAVITY. 
 
 Mr. Gilbert listened to me very atten- 
 tively. 
 
 " Your wife is here?" he asked, when I 
 had finished. 
 
 "Yes," I said; "and she will corrobo- 
 rate my story in every item, and no one 
 could ever suspect her of being crazy. I 
 will go and bring her to you." 
 
 In a few minutes my wife was in the 
 room, had shaken hands with Mr. Gilbert, 
 and had been told of my suspected mad- 
 ness. She turned pale, but smiled. 
 
 " He did act like a crazy man," she said, 
 " but I never supposed that anybody would 
 think him one." And tears came into her 
 eyes. 
 
 " And now, my dear," said I, " perhaps 
 you will tell Mr. Gilbert how I did all 
 this." 
 
 And then she told him the story that I 
 had told. 
 
 Mr. Gilbert looked from the one to the 
 other of us with a troubled air. 
 
 "Of course I do not doubt either of you, 
 or rather, I do not doubt that you believe 
 what you say. All would be right if I could 
 bring myself to credit that such a force as 
 that you speak of can possibly exist." 
 
 "That is a matter," said I, "which I can
 
 A TALE OF NEGATIVE GRAVITY. IO9 
 
 easily prove to you by actual demonstration. 
 If you can wait a short time, until my wife 
 and I have had something to eat, for I am 
 nearly famished, and I am sure she must be, 
 I will set your mind at rest upon that 
 point." 
 
 " I will wait here," said Mr. Gilbert, "and 
 smoke a cigar. Don't hurry yourselves. I 
 shall be glad to have some time to think 
 about what you have told me." 
 
 When we had finished the dinner, which 
 had been set aside for us, I went upstairs 
 and got my knapsack, and we both joined 
 Mr. Gilbert in the smoking-room. I showed 
 him the little machine, and explained, very 
 briefly, the principle of its construction. I 
 did not give any practical demonstration of 
 its action, because there were people walk- 
 ing about the corridor who might at any 
 moment come into the room ; but, looking 
 out of the window, I saw that the night was 
 much clearer. The wind had dissipated the 
 clouds, and the stars were shining brightly. 
 
 " If you will come up the street with me," 
 said I to Mr. Gilbert, ' ' I will show you how 
 this thing works." 
 
 "That is just what I -want to see," he 
 answered. 
 
 "I will go with you," said my wife,
 
 IIO A TALE OF NEGATIVE GRAVITY. 
 
 throwing a shawl over her head. And we 
 started up the street. 
 
 When we were outside the little town I 
 found the starlight was quite sufficient for 
 my purpose. The white roadway, the low 
 walls, and objects about us, could easily be 
 distinguished. 
 
 "Now," said I to Mr. Gilbert, "I want 
 to put this knapsack on you, and let you see 
 how it feels, and how it will help you to 
 walk. " To this he assented with some eager- 
 ness, and I strapped it firmly on him. "I 
 will now turn this screw," said I, " until you 
 shall become lighter and lighter." 
 
 " Be very careful not to turn it too much," 
 said my wife earnestly. 
 
 "Oh, you may depend on me for that," 
 said I, turning" the screw very gradually. 
 
 Mr. Gilbert was a stout man, and I was 
 obliged to give the screw a good many 
 turns. 
 
 "There seems to be considerable hoist in 
 it," he said directly. And then I put my 
 arms around him, and found that I could 
 raise him from the ground. "Are you lift- 
 ing me ? " he exclaimed in surprise. 
 
 "Yes ; I did it with ease," I answered. 
 
 " Upon my word ! " ejaculated Mr. 
 Gilbert.
 
 A TALE OF NEGATIVE GRAVITY. Ill 
 
 I then gave the screw a half-turn more, 
 and told him to walk and run. He started 
 off, at first slowly, then he made long strides, 
 then he began to run, and then to skip and 
 jump. It had been many years since Mr. 
 Gilbert had skipped and jumped. No one 
 was in sight, and he was free to gambol as 
 much as he pleased. "Could you give it 
 another turn ? " said he, bounding up to me. 
 "I want to try that wall." I put on a little 
 more negative gravity, and he vaulted over 
 a five-foot wall with great ease. In an in- 
 stant he had leaped back into the road, and 
 in two bounds was at my side. " I came 
 down as light as a cat," he said. "There 
 was never anything like it. " And away he 
 went up the road, taking steps at least eight 
 feet long, leaving my wife and- me laughing 
 heartily at the preternatural agility of our 
 stout friend. In a few minutes he was 
 with us again. " Take it off," he said. 
 " If I wear it any longer I shall want one 
 myself, and then I shall be taken for a 
 crazy man, and perhaps clapped into an 
 asylum." 
 
 "Now," said I, as I turned back the screw 
 before unstrapping the knapsack, "do you 
 understand how I took long walks, and 
 leaped and jumped ; how I ran uphill and
 
 112 A TALE OF NEGATIVE GRAVITY. 
 
 downhill, and how the little donkey drew 
 the loaded wagon ? " 
 
 " I understand it all," cried he. " I take 
 back all I ever said or thought about you, 
 my friend." 
 
 " And Herbert may marry Janet?" cried 
 my wife. 
 
 " May marry her ! " cried Mr. Gilbert. 
 " Indeed he shall marry her, if I have any- 
 thing to say about it ! My poor girl has 
 been drooping ever since I told her it could 
 not be. " 
 
 My wife rushed at him, but whether she 
 embraced him or only shook his hands I can- 
 not say ; for I had the knapsack in one hand, 
 and was rubbing my eyes with the other. 
 
 "But, my dear fellow," said Mr. Gilbert 
 directly, "if you still consider it to your 
 interest to keep your invention a secret, I 
 wish you had never made it. No one having 
 a machine like that can help using it, and 
 it is often quite as bad to be considered a 
 maniac as to be one." 
 
 "My friend," I cried, with some excite- 
 ment, " I have made up my mind on this 
 subject. The little machine in this knap- 
 sack, which is the only one I now possess, 
 has been a great pleasure to me. But I now 
 know it has also been of the greatest injury
 
 A TALE OF NEGATIVE GRAVITY. 113 
 
 indirectly to me and mine, not to mention 
 some direct inconvenience and danger, which 
 I will speak of another time. The secret 
 lies with us three, and we will keep it. But 
 the invention itself is too full of temptation 
 and danger for any of us." 
 
 As I said this I held the knapsack with 
 one hand while I quickly turned the screw 
 with the other. In a few moments it was 
 high above my head, while I with difficulty 
 held it down by the straps. "Look!" I 
 cried. And then I released my hold, and 
 the knapsack shot into the air and disap- 
 peared into the upper gloom. 
 
 I was about to make a remark, but had no 
 chance, for my wife threw herself upon my 
 bosom, sobbing with joy. 
 
 " Oh, I am so glad so glad ! " she said. 
 " And you will never make another? " 
 
 " Never another ! " I answered. 
 
 " And now let us hurry in and see Janet," 
 said my wife. 
 
 " You don't know how heavy and clumsy 
 I feel," said Mr. Gilbert, striving to keep up 
 with us as we walked back. " If I had worn 
 that thing much longer, I should never have 
 been willing to take it off ! " 
 
 Janet had retired, but my wife went up to 
 her room. 
 
 B.M. H
 
 114 A TALE OF NEGATIVE GRAVITY. 
 
 " I think she has felt it as much as our 
 boy, " she said, when she rejoined me. ' ' But 
 I tell you, my dear, I left a very happy girl 
 in that little bedchamber over the garden." 
 
 And there were three very happy elderly 
 people talking together until quite late that 
 evening. " I shall write to Herbert to- 
 night," I said, when we separated, "and 
 tell him to meet us all in Geneva. It will 
 do the young man no harm if we interrupt 
 his studies just now." 
 
 " You must let me add a postscript to the 
 letter," said Mr. Gilbert, " and I am sure it 
 will require no knapsack with a screw in 
 the back to bring him quickly to us." 
 
 And it did not. 
 
 There is a wonderful pleasure in tripping 
 over the earth like a winged Mercury, and in 
 feeling one's-self relieved of much of that at- 
 traction of gravitation which drags us down 
 to earth, and gradually makes the movement 
 of our bodies but weariness and labour. But 
 this pleasure is not to be compared, I think, 
 to that given by the buoyancy and lightness 
 of two young and loving hearts, reunited 
 after a separation which they had supposed 
 would last for ever. 
 
 What became of the basket and the knap- 
 sack, or whether they ever met in upper air,
 
 A TALE OF NEGATIVE GRAVITY. 11$ 
 
 I do not know. If they but float away and 
 stay away from ken of mortal man, I shall 
 be satisfied. 
 
 And whether or not the world will ever 
 know more of the power of negative gravity 
 depends entirely upon the disposition of my 
 son Herbert, when after a good many years, 
 I hope he shall open the packet my lawyers 
 have in keeping. 
 
 [NOTE. It would be quite useless for any 
 one to interview my wife on this subject, for 
 she has entirely forgotten how my machine 
 was made. And as for Mr. Gilbert, he never 
 knew.]
 
 THE CHEISTMAS WBECK.
 
 THE CHRISTMAS WRECK. 
 
 " TTTELL, sir," said old Silas, as he gave 
 f V a preliminary puff to the pipe he 
 had just lighted, and so satisfied himself 
 that the draught was all right, "the wind 's 
 a-comin', an' so's Christmas. But it's no 
 use bein' in a hurry fur either of 'em, fur 
 sometimes they come afore you want 'em, 
 anyway." 
 
 Silas was sitting in the stern of a small 
 sailing-boat which he owned, and in which 
 he sometimes took the Sandport visitors out 
 for a sail ; and at other times applied to its 
 more legitimate, but less profitable use, that 
 of fishing. That afternoon he had taken 
 young Mr. Nugent for a brief excursion on 
 that portion of the Atlantic Ocean which 
 sends its breakers up on the beach of Sand- 
 port. But he had found it difficult, nay, 
 impossible just now, to bring him back, for 
 the wind had gradually died away until 
 there was not a breath of it left. Mr. 
 Nugent, to whom nautical experiences were 
 119
 
 120 THE CHRISTMAS WRECK 
 
 as new as the very nautical suit of blue 
 flannel which he wore, rather liked the 
 calm ; it was such a relief to the monotony 
 of rolling waves. He took out a cigar and 
 lighted it, and then he remarked 
 
 "I can easily imagine how a wind might 
 come before you sailors might want it, but 
 I don't see how Christmas could come too 
 soon. " 
 
 "It come wunst on me when things 
 couldn't a looked more onready fur it," said 
 Silas. 
 
 "How was that?" asked Mr. Nugent, 
 settling himself a little more comfortably on 
 the hard thwart. "If it's a story, let's 
 have it. This is a good time to spin a 
 yarn." 
 
 " Very well," said old Silas. " I '11 spin 
 her." 
 
 The bare-legged boy, whose duty it was 
 to stay forward and mind the jib, came aft 
 as soon as he smelt a story, and took a 
 nautical position, which was duly studied 
 by Mr. Nugent, on a bag of ballast in the 
 bottom of the boat. 
 
 "It's nigh on to fifteen year ago," said 
 Silas, " that I was on the barque, * Mary 
 Auguster,' bound for Sydney, New South 
 Wales, with a cargo of canned goods. We
 
 THE CHRISTMAS WRECK. 121 
 
 was somewhere about longitood a hundred 
 an' seventy, latitood nothin', an' it was the 
 twenty-second o' December, when we was 
 ketched by a reg'lar typhoon which blew 
 straight along, end on, fur a day an' a half. 
 It blew away the storm sails ; it blew away 
 every yard, spar, shroud, an' every strand 
 o' riggin', an' snapped the masts off, close to 
 the deck ; it blew away all the boats ; it 
 blew away the cook's caboose, an' every- 
 thing else on deck ; it blew off the hatches, 
 an' sent 'em spinnin' in the air, about a 
 mile to leeward ; an' afore it got through, 
 it washed away the cap'n an' all the crew 
 'cept me an' two others. These was Tom 
 Simmons, the second mate, an' Andy Boyle, 
 a chap from the Andirondack Mountins, 
 who 'd never been to sea afore. As he was 
 a landsman he ought, by rights, to a been 
 swep' off by the wind an' water, consid'rin' 
 that the cap'n an' sixteen good seamen had 
 gone a'ready. But he had hands eleven 
 inches long, an' that give him a grip which 
 no typhoon could git the better of. Andy 
 had let out that his father was a miller up 
 there in York State, an' a story had got 
 round among the crew that his gran'father 
 an' great gran'father was millers too ; an' the 
 way the fam'ly got such big hands come from
 
 122 THE CHRISTMAS WRECK. 
 
 their habit of scoopin' up a extry quart or 
 two of meal or flour for themselves when they 
 was levellin' off their customers' measures. 
 He was a good-natered feller, though, an 1 
 never got riled when I 'd tell him to clap 
 his flour-scoops onter a halyard. 
 
 " We was all soaked, an' washed, an' beat, 
 an' battered. We held on some way or other 
 till the wind blowed itself out, an' then we 
 got on our legs an' began to look about us to 
 see how things stood. The sea had washed 
 into the open hatches till the vessel was 
 more'n half full of water, an' that had sunk 
 her so deep that she must 'a looked like a 
 canal boat loaded with gravel. We hadn't 
 had a thing to eat or drink durin' that whole 
 blow, an' we was pretty ravenous. We 
 found a keg of water which was all right, 
 and a box of biscuit, which was what you 
 might call soft tack, for they was soaked 
 through and through with sea-water. We 
 eat a lot of them so, fur we couldn't wait, 
 an' the rest we spread on the deck to dry, 
 fur the sun was now shinin' hot enough to 
 bake bread. We couldn't go below much, 
 fur there was a pretty good swell on the 
 sea, and things was floatin' about so's to 
 make it dangerous. But we fished out a 
 piece of canvas, which we rigged up agin
 
 THE CHRISTMAS WRECK. 123 
 
 the stump of the main-mast so that we could 
 have somethin' that we could sit down an' 
 grumble under. What struck us all the 
 hardest was that the barque was loaded 
 with a whole cargo of jolly things to eat, 
 which was just as good as ever they was, 
 fur the water couldn't git through the tin 
 cans in which they was all put up ; an' here 
 we was with nothin' to live on but them 
 salted biscuit. There was no way of gittin' 
 at any of the ship's stores, or any of the 
 fancy prog, fur everythin' was stowed away 
 tight under six or seven feet of water, an' 
 pretty nigh all the room that was left be- 
 tween decks was filled up with extry spars, 
 lumber, boxes, an' other floatin' stuff. All 
 was shiftin', an' bumpin', an' bangin' every 
 time the vessel rolled. 
 
 "As I said afore, Tom was second mate, 
 an' I was bosen. Says I to Tom, ' The thing 
 we 've got to do is to put up some kind of 
 a spar with a rag on it for a distress flag, 
 so that we'll lose no time bein' took off.' 
 ' There 's no use a slavin' at anythin' like 
 that,' says Tom, ' fur we 've been blowed off 
 the track of traders, an' the more we work 
 the hungrier we'll git, an' the sooner will 
 them biscuit be gone.' 
 
 "Now when I heerd Tom say this I sot
 
 124 THE CHRISTMAS WRECK. 
 
 still, and began to consider. Being second 
 mate, Tom was, by rights, in command of 
 this craft ; but it was easy enough to see 
 that if he commanded there 'd never be 
 nothin' for Andy an' me to do. All the grit 
 he had in him he'd used up in holdin' on 
 durin' that typhoon. What he wanted to 
 do now was to make himself comfortable till 
 the time come for him to go to Davy Jones's 
 Locker ; an' thinkin', most likely, that Davy 
 couldn't make it any hotter fur him than it 
 was on that deck, still in latitood nothin' at 
 all, fur we 'd been blowed along the line 
 pretty nigh due West. So I calls to Andy, 
 who was busy turnin' over the biscuits on 
 the deck. ' Andy,' says I, when he had got 
 under the canvas, ' we 's goin' to have a 'lec- 
 tion fur skipper. Tom here is about played 
 out. He 's one candydate, an' I 'm another. 
 Now, who do you vote fur? An', mind 
 yer eye, youngster, that you don't make no 
 mistake.' 'I vote fur you,' says Andy. 
 * Carried unanermous ! ' says I. * An' I 
 want you to take notice that I 'm cap'n of 
 what's left of the "Mary Auguster," an' 
 you two has got to keep your minds on that, 
 an' obey orders.' If Davy Jones was to do 
 all that Tom be Simmons said when he heard 
 this, the old chap would be kept busier
 
 THE CHRISTMAS WEECK. 125 
 
 than he ever was yit. But I let him growl 
 his growl out, knowin' he 'd come round all 
 right, fur there wasn't no help fur it, con- 
 sid'rin' Andy an' me was two to his one. 
 Pretty soon we all went to work, an' got up 
 a spar from below which we rigged to the 
 stump of the foremast, with Andy's shirt 
 atop of it. 
 
 " Them sea-soaked, sun-dried biscuit was 
 pretty mean prog, as you might think, but 
 we eat so many of 'em that afternoon an' 
 'cordingly drank so much water that I was 
 obliged to put us all on short rations the 
 next day. 'This is the day before Christ- 
 mas,' says Andy Boyle, 'an' to-night will be 
 Christmas Eve, an' it 's pretty tough for us 
 to be sittin' here with not even so much hard 
 tack as we want, an' all the time thinkin' 
 that the hold of this ship is packed full 
 of the gayest kind of good things to eat.' 
 ' Shut up about Christmas ! ' says Tom 
 Simmons. ' Them two youngsters of mine, 
 up in Bangor, is havin' their toes and noses 
 pretty nigh froze, I 'spect, but they'll 
 hang up their stockin's all the same to- 
 night, never thinkin' that their dad 's bein' 
 cooked alive on a empty stomach.' 'Of 
 course they wouldn't hang 'em up,' says 
 I, ' if they knowed what a fix you was in,
 
 126 THE CHRISTMAS WRECK. 
 
 but they don't know it, an' what 's the use 
 of grumblin' at 'em for bein' a little jolly ? ' 
 'Well,' says Andy, 'they couldn't be more 
 jollier than I 'd be if I could git at some of 
 them fancy fixin's down in the hold. I 
 worked well on to a week at 'Frisco puttin' 
 in them boxes, an' the names of the things 
 was on the outside of most of 'em, an' I tell 
 you what it is, mates, it made my mouth 
 water, even then, to read 'em, an' I wasn't 
 hungry nuther, havin' plenty to eat three 
 times a day. There was roast beef, an' roast 
 mutton, an' duck, an' chicken, an' soup, an' 
 peas, an' beans, an' termaters, an' plum- 
 
 puddin', an' mince-pie ' ' Shut up with 
 
 your mince-pie ! ' sung out Tom Simmons. 
 'Isn't it enough to have to gnaw on these 
 salt chips, without hearin' about mince-pie ? ' 
 'An' more 'n that,' says Andy, 'there was 
 canned peaches, an' pears, an' plums, an' 
 cherries. ' 
 
 "Now these things did sound so cool an' 
 good to me on that broilin' deck, that I 
 couldn't stand it, an' I leans over to Andy, 
 an' I says : " Now look a here, if you don't 
 shut up talkin' about them things what's 
 stowed below, an' what we can't git at, 
 nohow, overboard you go ! ' ' That would 
 make you short-handed,' says Andy, with a
 
 THE CHRISTMAS WRECK. 127 
 
 grin. ' Which is more'n you could say,' 
 says I, ' if you 'd chuck Tom an' me over ' 
 alludin' to his eleven-inch grip. Andy didn't 
 say no more then, but after a while he comes 
 to me as I was lookin' round to see if any- 
 thing was in sight, an' says he, ' I s'pose 
 you ain't got nothin' to say agin my divin' 
 into the hold just aft of the foremast, where 
 there seems to be a bit of pretty clear water, 
 an' see if I can't git up something ? ' ' You 
 kin do it, if you like,' says I, 'but it's at 
 your own risk. You can't take out no in- 
 surance at this office.' ' All right, then,' 
 says Andy, ' an' if I git stove in by floatin' 
 boxes, you an' Tom '11 have to eat the rest 
 of them salt crackers.' ' Now, boy,' says I 
 an' he wasn't much more, bein' only nine- 
 teen year old ' you 'd better keep out o' 
 that hold. You '11 just git yourself smashed. 
 An' as to movin' any of them there heavy 
 boxes, which must be swelled up as tight 
 as if they was part of the ship, you might 
 as well try to pull out one of the "Mary 
 Auguster's " ribs.' ' I '11 try it,' says Andy, 
 'fur to-morrer is Christmas, an' if I kin 
 help it I ain't goin' to be floatin' atop of a 
 Christmas dinner without eatin' any on it.' 
 I let him go, fur he was a good swimmer 
 and diver, an' I did hope he might root out
 
 128 THE CHRISTMAS WRECK. 
 
 somethin' or other, fur Christmas is about 
 the worst day in the year fur men to be 
 starvin' on, and that's what we was a- 
 comin' to. 
 
 " Well, fur about two hours Andy swum, 
 an' dove, an' come up blubber-in', an' dodged 
 all sorts of floatin' an' pitchin' stuff, fur the 
 swell was still on ; but he couldn't even be so 
 much as sartain that he 'd found the canned 
 vittles. To dive down through hatchways, 
 an' among broken bulkheads, to hunt fur 
 any partiklar kind o' boxes under seven feet 
 of sea-water ain't no easy job ; an' though 
 Andy says he got hold of the end of a box 
 that felt to him like the big 'uns he 'd noticed 
 as havin' the meat pies in, he couldn't move 
 it no more'n if it had been the stump of the 
 foremast. If we could have pumped the 
 water out of the hold we could have got at 
 any part of the cargo we wanted, but as it 
 was, we couldn't even reach the ship's stores, 
 which, of course, must have been mostly 
 spiled anyway ; whereas the canned vittles 
 was just as good as new. The pumps was 
 all smashed, or stopped up, for we tried 'em, 
 but if they hadn't a been we three couldn't 
 never have pumped out that ship on three 
 biscuit a day, and only about two days' 
 rations at that.
 
 THE CHRISTMAS WRECK. 129 
 
 " So Andy he come up, so fagged out that 
 it was as much as he could do to get his 
 clothes on, though they wasn't much, an' 
 then he stretched himself out under the 
 canvas an' went to sleep, an' it wasn't long 
 afore he was talkin' about roast turkey an' 
 cranberry sass, an' punkin pie, an' sech 
 stuff, most of which we knowed was under 
 our feet that present minute. Tom Sim- 
 mons he just b'iled over, an' sung out : 
 ' Roll him out in the sun and let him cook f 
 I can't stand no more of this ! ' But I 
 wasn't goin' to have Andy treated no sech 
 way as that, fur if it hadn't been fur Tom 
 Simmons' wife an' young uns, Andy 'd been 
 worth two of him to anybody who was con- 
 sid'rin' savin' life. But I give the boy a 
 good punch in the ribs to stop his dream- 
 in', fur I was as hungry as Tom was, and 
 couldn't stand no nonsense about Christmas 
 dinners. 
 
 " It was a little arter noon when Andy 
 woke up, an' he went outside to stretch 
 himself. In about a minute he give a yell 
 that made Tom and me jump. ' A sail ! ' he 
 hollered, 'a sail !' An' you may bet your 
 life, young man, that 'twasn't more'n half 
 a second before us two had scuffled out 
 from under that canvas, an' was standin' 
 '
 
 130 THE CHRISTMAS WRECK. 
 
 by Andy. ' There she is ! ' he shouted, 
 'not a mile to win'ard.' I give one look, 
 an' then I sings out : * 'Tain't a sail ! It 's 
 a flag of distress ! Can't you see, you land- 
 lubber, that that 's the stars and stripes up- 
 side down?' 'Why, so it is,' said Andy, 
 with a couple of reefs in the joyfulness of 
 his voice. An' Tom, he began to growl as 
 if somebody had cheated him out of half a 
 year's wages. 
 
 " The flag that we saw was on the hull of a 
 steamer that had been driftin' down on us 
 while we was sittin' under our canvas. It 
 was plain to see she'd been caught in the 
 typhoon too, fur there wasn't a mast or a 
 smoke-stack on her ; but her hull was high 
 enough out of the water to catch what wind 
 there was, while we was so low-sunk that 
 we didn't make no way at all. There was 
 people aboard, and they saw us, an' waved 
 their hats an' arms, an' Andy an' me waved 
 ours, but all we could do was to wait till 
 they drifted nearer, fur we hadn't no boats 
 to go to 'em if we 'd a wanted to. 
 
 " 'I'd like to know what good that old 
 hulk is to us,' said Tom Simmons. 'She 
 can't take us off.' It did look to me some- 
 thin' like the blind leadiii' the blind ; but 
 Andy he sings out: 'We'd be better off
 
 THE CHRISTMAS WRECK. 13! 
 
 aboard of her, fur she ain't water-logged, 
 an', more'n that, I don't s'pose her stores 
 are all soaked up in salt water.' There was 
 some sense in that, and when the steamer 
 had got to within half a mile of us, we was 
 glad to see a boat put out from her with 
 three men in it. It was a queer boat, very 
 low an' flat, an' not like any ship's boat I 
 ever see. But the two fellers at the oars 
 pulled stiddy, an' pretty soon the boat was 
 'longside of us, an' the three men on our 
 deck. One of 'em was the first mate of the 
 other wreck, an' when he found out what 
 was the matter with us, he spun his yarn, 
 which was a longer one than ours. His 
 vessel was the 'Water Crescent,' nine hun- 
 dred tons, from 'Frisco to Melbourne, and 
 they had sailed about six weeks afore we 
 did. They was about two weeks out when 
 some of their machinery broke down, an' 
 when they got it patched up it broke agin, 
 worse than afore, so that they couldn't do 
 nothin' with it. They kep' along under 
 sail for about a month, makin' mighty poor 
 headway till the typhoon struck 'em, an' 
 that cleaned their decks off about as slick 
 as it did ours, but their hatches wasn't 
 bio wed off, an' they didn't ship no water 
 wuth mentionin', an' the crew havin' kep'
 
 132 THE CHRISTMAS WRECK. 
 
 below, none on 'em was lost. But now 
 they was clean out of provisions and water, 
 bavin' been short when the breakdown 
 happened, fur they had sold all the stores 
 they could spare to a French brig in dis- 
 tress that they overhauled when about a 
 week out. When they sighted us they felt 
 pretty sure they 'd git some provisions out 
 of us. But when I told the mate what 
 a fix we was in his jaw dropped till his face 
 was as long as one of Andy's hands. How- 
 somdever he said he 'd send the boat back 
 fur as many men as it could bring over, and 
 see if they couldn't get up some of our 
 stores. Even if they was soaked with salt 
 water, they 'd be better than nothin'. Part 
 of the cargo of the ' Water Crescent ' was 
 tools an' things fur some railway contractors 
 out in Australier, an' the mate told the men 
 to bring over some of them irons that might 
 be used to fish out the stores. All their 
 ship's boats had been blowed away, an' the 
 one they had was a kind of shore boat for 
 fresh water, that had been shipped as part 
 of the cargo, an' stowed below. It couldn't 
 stand no kind of a sea, but there wasn't 
 nothin' but a swell on ; an* when it come 
 back it had the cap'n in it, an' five men, 
 besides a lot of chains an' tools.
 
 THE CHRISTMAS WRECK. 133 
 
 " Them fellers an' us worked pretty nigh 
 the rest of the day, an' we got out a couple 
 of bar'ls of water, which was all right, 
 havin' been tight bunged ; an' a lot of sea 
 biscuit, all soaked an' sloppy, but we only 
 got a half bar'l of meat, though three or 
 four of the men stripped an' dove fur 
 more 'n an hour. We cut up some of the 
 meat, an' eat it raw, an the cap'n sent some 
 over to the other wreck, which had drifted 
 past us to leeward, an' would have gone 
 clean away from us if the cap'n hadn't had 
 a line got out an' made us fast to it while 
 we was a workin' at the stores. 
 
 " That night the cap'n took us three, as 
 well as the provisions we 'd got out, on 
 board his hull, where the 'commodations 
 was consid'able better than they was on the 
 half- sunk 'Mary Auguster.' An' afore we 
 turned in he took me aft, an' had a talk 
 with me as commandin' off cer of my vessel. 
 ' That wreck o' yourn,' says he, ' has got a 
 vallyble cargo in it, which isn't spiled by 
 bein' under water. Now, if you could get 
 that cargo into port it would put a lot of 
 money in your pocket, fur the owners 
 couldn't git out of payin' you fur takin' 
 charge of it, an' havin' it brung in. Now 
 I '11 tell you what I '11 do. I '11 lie by you,
 
 134 THE CHRISTMAS WRECK. 
 
 an' I 've got carpenters aboard that '11 put 
 your pumps in order, an' I '11 set my men to 
 work to pump out your vessel. An' then, 
 when she 's afloat all right, I '11 go to work 
 agin at my vessel, which I didn't s'pose 
 there was any use o' doin' ; but whilst I 
 was huntin' round amongst our cargo to- 
 day I found that some of the machinery we 
 carried might be worked up so 's to take 
 the place of what is broke in our engin'. 
 We Ve got a forge aboard, an' I believe we 
 can make these pieces of machinery fit, an' 
 git goin' agin. Then I '11 tow you into 
 Sydney, an' we '11 divide the salvage money. 
 I won't git nothin' for savin' my vessel, coz 
 that 's my bizness ; but you wasn't cap'n o' 
 yourn, an' took charge of her a purpose to 
 save her, which is another thing. ' 
 
 " I wasn't at all sure that I didn't take 
 charge of the ' Mary Auguster' to save my- 
 self an' not the vessel, but I didn't mention 
 that, an' asked the cap'n how he expected 
 to live all this time. ' Oh, we kin git at 
 your stores easy enough,' says he, 'when 
 the water 's pumped out. ' ' They '11 be 
 mostly spiled,' says I. ' That don't matter,' 
 says he, ' men '11 eat anythin', when they 
 can't git nothin' else.' An' with that he 
 left me to think it over.
 
 THE CHRISTMAS WRECK. 135 
 
 " I must say, young man, an' you kin 
 b'lieve me if you know anythin' about sech 
 things, that the idee of a pile of money was 
 mighty temptin' to a feller like me, who had 
 a girl at home ready to marry him, and who 
 would like nothin' better'n to have a little 
 house of his own, an' a little vessel of his 
 own, an' give up the other side of the world 
 altogether. But while I was goin' over all 
 this in my mind, an' wonderin' if the cap'n 
 ever could git us into port, along comes 
 Andy Boyle, and sits down beside me. ' It 
 drives me pretty nigh crazy,' says he, 'to 
 think that to-morrer 's Christmas, an' we 've 
 got to feed on that sloppy stuff we fished 
 out of our stores, an' not much of it nuther, 
 while there 's all that roast turkey, an' plum- 
 puddin', an' mince-pie, a-floatin' out there 
 just before our eyes, an' we can't have none 
 of it. ' ' You hadn't oughter think so much 
 about eatin', Andy,' says I, 'but if I was 
 talkin' about them things I wouldn't leave 
 out canned peaches. By George ! Of a hot 
 Christmas like this is goin' to be, I 'd be the 
 j oiliest Jack on the ocean if I could git at 
 that canned fruit.' 'Well, there's away,' 
 says Andy, ' that we might git some of 'em. 
 A part of the cargo of this ship is stuff for 
 blastin' rocks ; catridges, 'lectric bat'ries, an'
 
 I$6 THE CHRISTMAS WRECK. 
 
 that sort of thing ; an' there 's a man aboard 
 who 's goin' out to take charge of 'em. I 've 
 been talkin' to this bat'ry man, an' I've 
 made up my mind it'll be easy enough to 
 lower a little catridge down among our 
 cargo, an' blow out a part of it.' ' What 
 ud be the good of it, ' says I, ' blowed into 
 chips?' 'It might smash some,' he said, 
 ' but others would be only loosened, an' 
 they 'd float up to the top, where we could 
 get 'em, 'specially them as was packed with 
 pies, which must be pretty light. ' ' Git out, 
 Andy,' says I, ' with all that stuff ! ' An' 
 he got out. 
 
 " But the idees he 'd put into my head 
 didn't git out, an' as I laid on my back on 
 the deck, lookin' up at the stars, they some- 
 times seemed to put themselves into the 
 shape of little houses, with a little woman 
 cookin' at the kitchin fire, an' a little 
 schooner layin' at anchor just off shore ; an' 
 then agin they 'd hump themselves up till 
 they looked like a lot of new tin cans with 
 their tops off, an' all kinds of good things to 
 eat inside, 'specially canned peaches the 
 big white kind soft an' cool, each one split 
 in half, with a holler in the middle filled 
 with juice. By George, sir, the very thought 
 of a tin can like that made me beat my heels
 
 THE CHRISTMAS WRECK. 137 
 
 agin the deck. I 'd been mighty hungry, an' 
 had eat a lot of salt pork, wet an' raw, an' 
 now the very idee of it, even cooked, turned 
 my stomach. I looked up to the stars agin, 
 an' the little house an' the little schooner was 
 clean gone, an' the whole sky was filled with 
 nothin' but bright new tin cans. 
 
 " In the mornin', Andy, he come to me 
 agin. 'Have you made up your mind,' says 
 he, ' about gittin' some of them good things 
 for Christmas dinner ? ' ' Confound you ! ' 
 says I, ' you talk as if all we had to do was 
 to go an' git 'em.' ' An' that 's what I b'lieve 
 we kin do,' says he, ' with the help of that 
 bat'ry man.' ' Yes,' says I, * an' blow a lot 
 of the cargo into flinders, an' damage the 
 "Mary Auguster" so's she couldn't never 
 be took into port.' An' then I told him 
 what the cap'n had said to me, an' what I 
 was goin' to do with the money. ' A little 
 catridge,' says Andy, ' would do all we 
 want, an' wouldn't hurt the vessel nuther. 
 Besides that, I don't b'lieve what this cap'n 
 says about tinkerin' up his engiii'. 'Tain't 
 likely he '11 ever git her runnin' agin, nor 
 pump out the "Mary Auguster" nuther. 
 If I was you I 'd a durned sight ruther have 
 a Christmas dinner in hand than a house an' 
 wife in the bush. ' ' I ain't thinkin' o'
 
 138 THE CHRISTMAS WRECK. 
 
 marryin' a girl in Australier,' says I. An' 
 Andy he grinned, an' said I wouldn't marry 
 nobody if I had to live on spiled vittles till 
 I got her. 
 
 " A little after that I went to the cap'n, 
 an' I told him about Andy's idee, but he 
 was down on it. ' It 's your vessel, an' not 
 mine, ' says he, ' an' if you want to try to 
 git a dinner out of her I '11 not stand in your 
 way. But it 's my 'pinion you '11 just 
 damage the ship, an' do nothin'.' How- 
 somdever I talked to the bat'ry man about 
 it, an' he thought it could be done, an' not 
 hurt the ship nuther. The men was all in 
 favour of it, for none of 'em had forgot it 
 was Christmas day. But Tom Simmons, he 
 was agin it strong, for he was thinkin' he 'd 
 git some of the money if we got the ' Mary 
 Auguster' into port. He was a selfish- 
 minded man, was Tom, but it was his 
 nater, an' I s'pose he couldn't help it. 
 
 " Well, it wasn't long afore I began to 
 feel pretty empty, an' mean, an' if I 'd a 
 wanted any of the prog we got out the day 
 afore, I couldn't have found much, for the 
 men had eat it up nearly all in the night. 
 An' so, I just made up my mind without 
 any more foolin', an' me, and Andy Boyle, 
 an' the bat'ry man, with some catridges an'
 
 THE CHRISTMAS WRECK. 139 
 
 a coil of wire, got into the little shore boat, 
 and pulled over to the 'Mary Auguster.' 
 There we lowered a small catridge down 
 the main hatchway, an' let it rest down 
 among the cargo. Then we rowed back to 
 the steamer, uncoilin' the wire as we went. 
 The bat'ry man clumb up on deck, an' fixed 
 his wire to a 'lectric machine, which he'd 
 got all ready afore we started. Andy and 
 me didn't git out of the boat ; we had too 
 much sense for that, with all them hungry 
 fellers waitin' to jump in her ; but we just 
 pushed a little off, an' sot waitin', with our 
 mouths a-waterin', for him to touch her off. 
 He seemed to be a long time about it, but 
 at last he did it, an' that instant there was 
 a bang on board the ' Mary Auguster' that 
 made my heart jump. Andy an' me pulled 
 fur her like mad, the others a hollerin' arter 
 us, an' we was on deck in no time. The 
 deck was all covered with the water that 
 had been throwed up ; but I tell you, sir, 
 that we poked an' fished about, an' Andy 
 stripped an' went down, an' swum all round, 
 an' we couldn't find one floatin' box of 
 canned goods. There was a lot of splinters, 
 but where they come from we didn't know. 
 By this time my dander was up, an' I just 
 pitched around savage. That little catridge
 
 I4<? THE CHKISTMAS WRECK. 
 
 wasn't no good, an' I didn't intend to stand 
 any more foolin'. We just rowed back to 
 the other wreck, an' I called to the bat'ry 
 man to come down, an' bring some bigger 
 catridges with him, fur if we was goin' to do 
 anythin' we might as well do it right. So 
 he got down with a package of bigger ones, 
 an' jumped into the boat. The cap'n he 
 called out to us to be keerful, an' Tom 
 Simmons leaned over the rail, an' swored, 
 but I didn't pay no 'tention to nuther of 
 'em, an' we pulled away. 
 
 ** When I got aboard the ' Mary Auguster ' 
 I says to the bat'ry man : * We don't want 
 no nonsense this time, an' I want you to put 
 in enough catridges to heave up somethin' 
 that'll do fur a Christmas dinner. I don't 
 know how the cargo is stored, but you kin 
 put one big catridge 'midship, another for- 
 'ard, an' another aft, an' one or nuther of 
 'em oughter fetch up somethin'. ' Well, we 
 got the three catridges into place. They 
 was a good deal bigger than the one we 
 first used, an' we j'ined 'em all to one wire, 
 an' then we rowed back, carryin' the long 
 wire with us. When we reached the 
 steamer, me an' Andy was a-goin' to stay 
 in the boat as we did afore, but the cap'n 
 sung out that he wouldn't allow the bat'ry
 
 THE CHRISTMAS W&ECK. 14! 
 
 to be touched off till we come aboard. 
 ' Ther 's got to be fair play,' says he. 'It 's 
 your vittles, but it 's my side that 's doin' 
 the work. After we : ve blasted her this 
 time you two can go in the boat, an' see 
 what there is to get hold of, but two of my 
 men must go along.' So me an' Andy had 
 to go on deck, an' two big fellei-s was de- 
 tailed to go with us in the little boat when 
 the time come ; an' then the bat'ry man, he 
 teched her off. 
 
 "Well, sir, the pop that followed that 
 tech was somethin' to remember. It shuck 
 the water, it shuck the air, an' it shuck the 
 hull we was on. A reg'lar cloud of smoke 
 an' flyin' bits of things rose up out of the 
 'Mary Auguster.' An' when that smoke 
 cleared away, an' the water was all bilin' 
 with the splash of various-sized hunks that 
 come rainin' down from the sky, what was 
 left of the * Mary Auguster ' was sprinkled 
 over the sea like a wooden carpet for water- 
 birds to walk on. 
 
 *' Some of the men sung out one thing, an' 
 some another, an' I could hear Tom Simmons 
 swear, but Andy an' me said never a word, 
 but scuttled down into the boat, follered 
 close by the two men who was to go with 
 us. Then we rowed like devils for the lot
 
 142 THE CHRISTMAS WRECK. 
 
 of stuff that was bobbin' about on the water, 
 out where the 'Mary Auguster' had been. 
 In we went, among the floatin' spars and 
 ship's timbers, I keepin' the things off with 
 an oar, the two men rowin', an' Andy in the 
 bow. 
 
 " Suddenly Andy give a yell, an' then he 
 reached himself for'ard with sech a bounce 
 that I thought he 'd go overboard. But up 
 he come in a minnit, his two 'leven-inch 
 hands gripped round a box. He sot down 
 in the bottom of the boat with the box on 
 his lap, an' his eyes screwed on some letters 
 that was stamped on one end. ' Pidjin pies ! ' 
 he sings out. * 'Tain't turkeys, nor 'tain't 
 cranberries. But, by the Lord Harry, it's 
 Christmas pies all the same ! ' After that 
 Andy didn't do no more work, but sot hold- 
 in' that box as if it had been his fust baby. 
 But we kep' pushin' on to see what else 
 there was. It 's my 'pinion that the biggest 
 part of the bark's cargo was blowed into 
 mince-meat, an' the most of the rest of it 
 was so heavy that it sunk. But it wasn't all 
 busted up, an' it didn't all sink. There 
 was a big piece of wreck with a lot of boxes 
 stove into the timbers, and some of these 
 had in 'em beef ready biled an' packed into 
 cans, an' there was other kinds of meat, an'
 
 THE CHRISTMAS WRECK. 143 
 
 dif'rent sorts of vegetables, an' one box of 
 turtle soup. I looked at every one of 'em 
 as we took 'em in, an' when we got the little 
 boat pretty well loaded I wanted to still 
 keep on searchin', but the men, they said 
 that shore boat ud sink if we took in any 
 more cargo, an' so we put back, I feelin' 
 glummer'n I oughter felt, fur I had begun 
 to be afeared that canned fruit, such as 
 peaches, was heavy, an' li'ble to sink. 
 
 " As soon as we had got our boxes aboard, 
 four fresh men put out in the boat, an' after 
 awhile they come back with another load ; 
 an' I was mighty keerful to read the names 
 on all the boxes. Some was meat pies, 
 an' some was salmon, an' some was potted 
 herrin's, an' some was lobsters. But nary a 
 thing could I see that ever had growed on a 
 tree. 
 
 *' Well, sir, there was three loads brought 
 in altogether, an' the Christmas dinner we 
 had on the for'ard deck of that steamer's 
 hull was about the jolliest one that was ever 
 seen of a hot day aboard of a wreck in the 
 Pacific Ocean. The cap'n kept good order, 
 an' when all was ready the tops was jerked 
 off the boxes, and each man grabbed a can 
 an' opened it with his knife. When he 
 had cleaned it out, he tuk another without
 
 144 THE CHRISTMAS WRECK. 
 
 doin' much questionin' as to the bill of fare. 
 Whether anybody got pidjin pie 'cept Andy, 
 I can't say, but the way we piled in Del- 
 moniker prog would a made people open 
 their eyes as was eatin' their Christmas 
 dinners on shore that day. Some of the 
 things would a been better, cooked a little 
 more, or het up, but we was too fearful 
 hungry to wait for that, an' they was tip- 
 top as they was. 
 
 "The cap'n went out afterwards, an' towed 
 in a couple of bar'ls of flour that was only 
 part soaked through, an' he got some other 
 plain prog that would do fur futur use ; but 
 none of us give our minds to stuff like this 
 arter the glorious Christmas dinner that 
 we 'd quarried out of the ' Mary Auguster. ' 
 Every man that wasn't on duty went below, 
 and turned in for a snooze. All 'cept me, 
 an' I didn't feel just altogether satisfied. 
 To be sure I'd had an A 1 dinner, an' 
 though a little mixed, I 'd never eat a jollier 
 one on any Christmas that I kin look back 
 at. But, fur all that, there was a hanker 
 inside o' me. I hadn't got all I 'd laid out to 
 git, when we teched off the ' Mary Auguster. ' 
 The day was blazin' hot, an' a lot of the 
 things I 'd eat was pretty peppery. ' Now,' 
 thinks I, * if there had a been just one can
 
 THE CHRISTMAS WRECK, 145 
 
 o' peaches sech as I see shinin' in the stars 
 last night,' an' just then, as I was walkin' 
 aft, all by myself, I seed lodged on the 
 stump of the mizzenmast, a box with one 
 corner druv down among the splinters. It 
 was half split open, an' I could see the tin 
 cans shinin' through the crack. I give one 
 jump at it, an' wrenched the side off. On 
 the top of the first can I seed was a picture 
 of a big white peach with green leaves. 
 That box had been blowed up so high that 
 if it had come down anywhere 'cept among 
 them splinters it would a smashed itself to 
 flinders, or killed somebody. So fur as I 
 know, it was the only thing that fell nigh 
 us, an' by George, sir, I got it ! When I 
 had finished a can of 'em I hunted up Andy, 
 an' then we went aft, an' eat some more. 
 ' Well,' says Andy, as we was a-eatin', ' how 
 d'ye feel now about blowin' up your wife, 
 an' your house, an' that little schooner you 
 was goin' to own ? ' 
 
 "'Andy,' says I, 'this is the joyfules* 
 Christmas I 've had yit, an' if I was to live 
 till twenty hundred I don't b'lieve I 'd have 
 no joyfuler, with things comin' in so pat, so 
 don't you throw no shadders.' 
 
 " ' Shadders,' says Andy, ' that ain't me. 
 I leave that sort of thing fur Tom Simmons.' 
 
 B.M. K
 
 146 THE CHRISTMAS WRECK. 
 
 " * Shadders is cool,' says I, ' an' I kin go 
 to sleep under all he throws. ' 
 
 "Well, sir," continued old Silas, putting 
 his hand on the tiller and turning his face 
 seaward, "if Tom Simmons had kept com- 
 mand of that wreck, we all would a laid 
 there an' waited an' waited till some of us 
 was starved, an' the others got nothin' fur 
 it, fur the cap'n never mended his engin', 
 an' it was more'n a week afore we was took 
 off, an' then it was by a sailin' vessel, which 
 left the hull of the Water Crescent ' behind 
 her, just as she would a had to leave the 
 'Mary Auguster' if that jolly old Christmas 
 wreck had a been there. 
 
 " An' now, sir," said Silas, " d'ye see that 
 stretch o' little ripples over yander, lookin' 
 as if it was a lot o' herriii' turnin' over to 
 dry their sides? Do you know what that 
 is ? That 's the supper wind. That means 
 coffee, an' hot cakes, an' a bit of br'iled fish, 
 an' pertaters, an' p'raps if the old woman 
 feels in a partiklar good humour some 
 canned peaches, big white uns, cut in half, 
 with a holler place in the middle filled with 
 cool, sweet juice. "
 
 OUE ARCHERY CLUB.
 
 OUR ARCHERY CLUB. 
 
 WHEN an archery club was formed in 
 our village, I was among the first to 
 join it ; but I should not, on this account, 
 claim any extraordinary enthusiasm on the 
 subject of archery, for nearly all the ladies 
 and gentlemen of the place were also among 
 the first to join. 
 
 Few of us, I think, had a correct idea of 
 the popularity of archery in our midst, until 
 the subject of a club was broached. Then 
 we all perceived what a strong interest we 
 felt in the study and use of the bow and 
 arrow. The club was formed immediately ; 
 and our thirty members began to discuss the 
 relative merits of lancewood, yew, and green- 
 heart bows, and to survey yards and lawns 
 for suitable spots for setting up targets for 
 home practice. 
 
 Our weekly meetings, at which we came 
 together to show in friendly contest how 
 much our home practice had taught us, were 
 held upon the village green, or rather upon
 
 150 OUR ARCHERY CLUB. 
 
 what had been intended to be the village 
 green. This pretty piece of ground, partly 
 in smooth lawn, and partly shaded by tine 
 trees, was the property of a gentleman of 
 the place, who had presented it, under cer- 
 tain conditions, to the township. But as 
 the township had never fulfilled any of the 
 conditions, and had done nothing toward 
 the improvement of the spot, further than 
 to make it a grazing-place for local cows and 
 goats, the owner had withdrawn his gift, 
 shut out the cows and goats by a picket- 
 fence, and having locked the gate, had hung 
 up the key in his barn. "When our club was 
 formed, the green, as it was still called, was 
 offered to us for our meetings ; and with 
 proper gratitude, we elected its owner to be 
 our president. 
 
 This gentleman was eminently qualified 
 for the presidency of an archery club. In 
 the first place, he did not shoot : this gave 
 him time and opportunity to attend to the 
 shooting of others. He was a tall and plea- 
 sant man, a little elderly. This "elderli- 
 ness, " if I may so put it, seemed, in his case, 
 to resemble some mild disorder, like a gentle 
 rheumatism, which, while it prevented him 
 from indulging in all the wild hilarities of 
 youth, gave him, in compensation, a position,
 
 OUR ARCHERY CLUB. 151 
 
 as one entitled to a certain consideration, 
 which was very agreeable to him. His little 
 disease was chronic, it is true, and it was 
 growing upon him ; but it was, so far, a 
 pleasant ailment. 
 
 And so, with as much interest in bows, 
 and arrows, and targets, and successful 
 shots as any of us, he never fitted an arrow 
 to a string, nor drew a bow ; but he attended 
 every meeting, settling disputed points (for 
 he studied all the books on archery) ; encour- 
 aging the disheartened ; holding back the 
 eager ones, who would run to the targets as 
 soon as they had shot, regardless of the fact 
 that others were still shooting, and that the 
 human body is not arrow-proof ; and shed- 
 ding about him that general aid and com- 
 fort which emanates from a good fellow, no 
 matter what he may say or do. 
 
 There were persons outsiders who said 
 that archery clubs always selected ladies for 
 their presiding officers, but we did not care 
 to be too much bound down and trammelled 
 by customs and traditions. Another club 
 might not have among its members such 
 a genial, elderly gentleman, who owned a 
 village green. 
 
 I soon found myself greatly interested in 
 archery, especially when I succeeded in
 
 152 OUR ARCHERY CLUB. 
 
 planting an arrow somewhere within the 
 periphery of the target ; but I never became 
 such an enthusiast in bow-shooting as my 
 friend Pepton. 
 
 If Pepton could have arranged matters to 
 suit himself, he would have been born an 
 archer ; but as this did not happen to have 
 been the case, he employed every means in 
 his power to rectify what he considered 
 this serious error in his construction. He 
 gave his whole soul, and the greater part of 
 his spare time, to archery ; and as he was a 
 young man of energy, this helped him along 
 wonderfully. 
 
 His equipments were perfect : no one 
 could excel him in this respect. His bow 
 was snake-wood, backed with hickory. He 
 carefully rubbed it down every evening with 
 oil and beeswax, and it took its repose in a 
 green baize bag. His arrows were Philip 
 Highfield's best ; his strings the finest 
 Flanders hemp. He had shooting-gloves ; 
 and he had little leathern tips, that could 
 be screwed fast on the ends of what he 
 called his string-fingers. He had a quiver 
 and a belt ; and when equipped for the 
 weekly meetings, he carried a fancy- coloured 
 wiping-tassel, and a little ebony grease-pot, 
 hanging from his belt. He wore, when
 
 OUR ARCHERY CLUB. 153 
 
 shooting, a polished arm-guard or bracer ; 
 and if he had heard of anything else that an 
 archer should have, he straightway would 
 have procured it. 
 
 Pepton was a single man ; and he lived 
 with two good old maiden ladies, who took 
 as much care of him as if they had been his 
 mothers. And he was such a good, kind 
 fellow that he deserved all the attention 
 they gave him. They felt a great interest 
 in his archery pursuits, and shared his 
 anxious solicitude in the selection of a suit- 
 able place to hang his bow. 
 
 "You see," said he, "a fine bow like 
 this, when not in use, should always be in a 
 perfectly dry place. " 
 
 "And when in use too," said Miss 
 Martha ; " f or I am sure that you oughtn't 
 to be standing and shooting in any damp 
 spot. There 's no surer way of gettin' 
 chilled." 
 
 To which sentiment Miss Maria agreed, 
 and suggested wearing rubber shoes, or 
 having a board to stand on, when the club 
 met after a rain. 
 
 Pepton first hung his bow in the hall ; 
 but after he had arranged it symmetrically 
 upon two long nails (bound with green 
 worsted, lest they should scratch the bow
 
 154 OUB ARCHERY CLUB. 
 
 through its woollen cover), he reflected that 
 the front door would frequently be open, 
 and that damp draughts must often go 
 through the hall. He was sorry to give up 
 this place for his bow, for it was convenient 
 and appropriate ; and for an instant he 
 thought that it might remain, if the front 
 door could be kept shut, and visitors ad- 
 mitted through a little side door, which the 
 family generally used, and which was al- 
 most as convenient as the other, except, 
 indeed, on wash-days, when a wet sheet or 
 some article of wearing apparel was apt to 
 be hung in front of it. But, although wash- 
 day occurred but once a week, and although 
 it was comparatively easy, after a little prac- 
 tice, to bob under a high -propped sheet, 
 Pepton's heart was too kind to allow his 
 mind to dwell upon this plan. So he drew 
 the nails from the wall of the hall, and put 
 them up in various places about the house. 
 His own room had to be aired a great deal 
 in all weathers, and so that would not do 
 at all. The wall above the kitchen fire- 
 place would be a good location, for the 
 chimney was nearly always warm ; but 
 Pepton could not bring himself to keep his 
 bow in the kitchen : there would be nothing 
 jesthetic about such a disposition of it ; and,
 
 OUR ARCHERY CLUB. 155 
 
 besides, the girl might be tempted to string 
 and bend it. The old ladies really did not 
 want it in the parlour, for its length and 
 its green baize cover would make it an en- 
 croaching and unbecoming neighbour to the 
 little engravings and the big samplers, the 
 picture-frames of acorns and pine-cones, the 
 fancifully patterned ornaments of clean 
 wheat-straw, and all the quaint adornments 
 which had hung upon those walls for so 
 many years. But they did not say so. If 
 it had been necessary, to make room for the 
 bow they would have taken down the pen- 
 cilled profiles of their grandfather, their 
 grandmother, and their father when a little 
 boy, which hung in a row over the mantel- 
 piece. 
 
 However, Pepton did not ask this sacri- 
 fice. In the summer evenings the parlour 
 windows must be open. The dining-room 
 was really very little used in the evening, 
 except when Miss Maria had stockings to 
 darn ; and then she always sat in that 
 apartment, and of course she had the win- 
 dows open. But Miss Maria was very 
 willing to bring her work into the parlour, 
 it was foolish, any way, to have a feeling 
 about darning stockings before chance com- 
 pany, and then the dining-room could be
 
 156 OUR AKCHEBY CLUB. 
 
 kept shut up after tea. So into the wall of 
 that neat little room Pepton drove his 
 worsted-covered nails, and on them care- 
 fully laid his bow. And the next day Miss 
 Martha and Miss Maria went about the 
 house, and covered the nail-holes he had 
 made with bits of wall-paper, carefully 
 snipped out to fit the patterns, and pasted 
 on so neatly that no one would have sus- 
 pected they were there. 
 
 One afternoon, as I was passing the old 
 ladies' house, I saw, or thought I saw, two 
 men carrying in a coffin. I was struck with 
 alarm. 
 
 "What ! " I thought, "can either of those 
 good women ? Or, can Pepton ? " 
 
 Without a moment's hesitation I rushed 
 in behind the men. There, at the foot of 
 the stairs, directing them, stood Pepton. 
 Then it was not he ! I seized him sym- 
 pathetically by the hand. 
 
 "Which ?" I faltered. "Which? 
 
 Who is that coffin for ? " 
 
 "Coffin ! " cried Pepton, " why, my dear 
 fellow, that is not a coffin. That is my 
 ascham." 
 
 "Ascham?" I exclaimed. "What is 
 that ? " 
 
 " Come and look at it," he said, when the
 
 OUR ARCHERY CLUB. 157 
 
 men had set it on end against the wall ; " it 
 is an upright closet, or receptacle for an 
 archer's armament. Here is a place to 
 stand the bow ; here are supports for the 
 arrows and quivers ; here are shelves and 
 hooks, on which to lay or hang everything 
 the merry man can need. And you see, 
 moreover, that it is lined with green plush, 
 and that the door fits tightly, so that it can 
 stand anywhere, and there need be no fear of 
 draughts or damps affecting my bow. Isn't 
 it a perfect thing ? You ought to get one." 
 
 I admitted the perfection, but agreed no 
 further. I had not the income of my good 
 Pepton. 
 
 Pepton was, indeed, most wonderfully 
 well equipped, and yet, little did those dear 
 old ladies think, when they carefully dusted 
 and reverentially gazed at the bunches of 
 arrows, the arm-bracers, the gloves, the 
 grease-pots, and all the rest of the para- 
 phernalia of archery, as it hung around 
 Pepton's room ; or when they afterward 
 allowed a particular friend to peep at it, all 
 arranged so orderly within the ascham ; or 
 when they looked with sympathetic, loving 
 admiration on the beautiful polished bow, 
 when it was taken out of its bag, little did 
 they think, I say, that Pepton was the very
 
 158 OUR ARCHERY CLUB. 
 
 poorest shot in the club. In all the surface 
 of the much perforated targets of the club, 
 there was scarcely a hole that he could put 
 his hand upon his heart and say he made. 
 
 Indeed, I think it was the truth that 
 Pepton was born not to be an archer. There 
 were young fellows in the club, who shot 
 with bows that cost no more than Pepton 's 
 tassels, but who could stand up and whang 
 arrows into the targets all the afternoon, if 
 they could get a chance ; and there were 
 ladies who made hits five times out of six ; 
 and there were also all the grades of archers 
 common to any club. But there was no one 
 but himself in Pepton's grade. He stood 
 alone, and it was never any trouble to add 
 up his score. 
 
 And yet he was not discouraged. He 
 practised every day except Sundays, and 
 indeed he was the only person in the club 
 who practised at night. When he told me 
 about this, I was a little surprised. 
 
 " Why, it 's easy enough, " said he. " You 
 see, I hung a lantern, with a reflector, be- 
 fore the target, just a little to one side. It 
 lighted up the target beautifully ; and I be- 
 lieve there was a better chance of hitting it 
 than by daylight, for the only thing you 
 could see was the target, and so your atten-
 
 OUR ARCHERY CLUB. 159 
 
 tion was not distracted. To be sure," he 
 said, in answer to a question, "it was a 
 good deal of trouble to find the arrows, but 
 that I always have. When I get so expert 
 that I can put all the arrows into the target, 
 there will be no trouble of the kind, night 
 or day. However," he continued, " I don't 
 practise any more by night. The other even- 
 ing I sent an arrow slam-bang into the lan- 
 tern, and broke it all to flinders. Borrowed 
 lantern, too. Besides, I found it made Miss 
 Martha very nervous to have me shooting 
 about the house after dark. She had a 
 friend, who had a little boy, who was hit in 
 the leg by an arrow from a bow, which, she 
 says, accidentally went off in the night, of 
 its own accord. She is certainly a little 
 mixed in her mind in regard to this matter ; 
 but I wished to respect her feelings, and so 
 shall not use another lantern. " 
 
 As I have said, there were many good 
 archers among the ladies of our club. Some 
 of them, after we had been organised for a 
 month or two, made scores that few of the 
 gentlemen could excel. But the lady who 
 attracted the greatest attention when she 
 shot was Miss Rosa. 
 
 When this very pretty young lady stood 
 up before the ladies' target her left side
 
 l6o OUB ARCHERY CLUE. 
 
 well advanced, her bow firmly held out in 
 her strong left arm, which never quivered, 
 her head a little bent to the right, her arrow 
 drawn back by three well-gloved fingers to 
 the tip of her little ear, her dark eyes steadily 
 fixed upon the gold, and her dress well 
 fitted over her fine and vigorous figure 
 falling in graceful folds about her feet, we 
 all stopped shooting to look at her. 
 
 " There is something statuesque about 
 her," said Pepton, who ardently admired 
 her, "and yet there isn't. A statue could 
 never equal her unless we knew there was a 
 probability of movement in it. And the 
 only statues which have that are the Jarley 
 wax- works, which she does not resemble in 
 the least. There is only one thing that that 
 girl needs to make her a perfect archer, and 
 that is to be able to aim better." 
 
 This was true. Miss Rosa did need to 
 aim better. Her arrows had a curious habit 
 of going on all sides of the target, and it 
 was very seldom that one chanced to stick 
 into it. For, if she did make a hit, we all 
 knew it was chance, and that there was no 
 probability of her doing it again. Once she 
 put an arrow right into the centre of the 
 gold, one of the finest shots ever made on 
 the ground, but she didn't hit tne target
 
 OUR ARCHERY CLUB. l6l 
 
 again for two weeks. She was almost as bad 
 a shot as Pepton, and that is saying a good 
 deal. 
 
 One evening I was sitting with Pepton 
 on the little front porch of the old ladies' 
 house where we were taking our after-dinner 
 smoke while Miss Martha and Miss Maria 
 were washing, with their own white hands, 
 the china and glass in which they took so 
 much pride. I often used to come over and 
 spend an hour with Pepton. He liked to 
 have some one to whom he could talk on the 
 subjects which filled his soul, and I liked to 
 hear him talk. 
 
 "I tell you," said he, as he leaned back 
 in his chair, with his feet carefully disposed 
 on the railing so that they would not injure 
 Miss Maria's Madeira vine, " I tell you, sir, 
 that there are two things I crave with all 
 my power of craving ; two goals I fain would 
 reach ; two diadems I would wear upon my 
 brow. One of these is to kill an eagle or 
 some large bird with a shaft from my good 
 bow. I would then have it stuffed and 
 mounted, with the very arrow that killed 
 it still sticking in its breast. This trophy 
 of my skill I would have fastened against 
 the wall of my room, or my hall, and I 
 would feel proud to think that my grand-
 
 1 62 OUR ARCHERY CLUB. 
 
 children could point to that bird which I 
 would carefully bequeath to my descendants 
 and say, ' My grand'ther shot that bird, 
 and with that very arrow.' Would it not 
 stir your pulses, if you could do a thing like 
 that ? " 
 
 "I should have to stir them up a good 
 deal before I could do it," I replied. "It 
 would be a hard thing to shoot an eagle with 
 an arrow. If you want a stuffed bird to 
 bequeath, you 'd better use a rifle." 
 
 "A rifle!" exclaimed Pepton. "There 
 would be no glory in that. There are lots 
 of birds shot with rifles, eagles, hawks, 
 wild geese, torn -tits " 
 
 " Oh no ! " I interrupted, " not torn-tits." 
 
 "Well, perhaps they are too little for 
 a rifle," said he ; " but what I mean to say 
 is, that I wouldn't care at all for an eagle I 
 had shot with a rifle. You couldn't show 
 the ball that killed him. If it were put 
 in properly, it would be inside, where it 
 couldn't be seen. No, sir ; it is ever so 
 much more honourable, and far more diffi- 
 cult, too, to hit an eagle than to hit a target." 
 
 "That is very true," I answered, "espe- 
 cially in these days, when there are so few 
 eagles and so many targets. But what is 
 your other diadem ? "
 
 OUR ARCHERY CLUB. 163 
 
 "That," said Pepton, "is to see Miss 
 Rosa wear the badge." 
 
 "Indeed ! " said I ; and from that moment 
 I began to understand Pepton's hopes in re- 
 gard to the grandmother of those children 
 who should point to the eagle. 
 
 "Yes, sir," he continued, "I should be 
 truly happy to see her win the badge. And 
 she ought to win it. No one shoots more 
 correctly, and with a better understanding 
 of all the rules, than she does. There must, 
 truly, be something the matter with her 
 aiming. I Ve half a mind to coach her a 
 little." 
 
 I turned aside to see who was coming 
 down the road. I would not have had him 
 know I smiled. 
 
 The most objectionable person in our club 
 was 0. J. Hollingsworth. He was a good 
 enough fellow in himself, but it was as an 
 archer that we objected to him. There was, 
 so far as I know, scarcely a rule of archery 
 that he did not habitually violate. Our 
 president and nearly all of us remonstrated 
 with him, and Pepton even went to see him 
 on the subject ; but it was all to no purpose. 
 With a quiet disregard of other people's 
 ideas about bow-shooting and other people's 
 opinions about himself, he persevered in a
 
 164 OUR ARCHERY CLUB. 
 
 style of shooting which appeared absolutely 
 absurd to any one who knew anything of 
 the rules and methods of archery. 
 
 I used to like to look at him when his 
 turn came around to shoot. He was not 
 such a pleasing object of vision as Miss 
 Rosa, but his style was so entirely novel 
 to me that it was interesting. He held the 
 bow horizontally, instead of perpendicularly, 
 like other archers ; and he held it well down 
 about opposite his waistband. He did not 
 draw his arrow back to his ear, but he drew 
 it back to the lower button of his vest. In- 
 stead of standing upright, with his left side 
 to the target, he faced it full, and leaned 
 forward over his arrow, in an attitude which 
 reminded me of a Roman soldier about to 
 fall upon his sword. When he had seized 
 the nock of his arrow between his finger and 
 thumb, he languidly glanced at the target, 
 raised his bow a little, and let fly. The 
 provoking thing about it was that he nearly 
 always hit. If he had only known how to 
 stand, and hold his bow, and draw back his 
 arrow, he would have been a very good 
 archer. But, as it was, we could not help 
 laughing at him, although our president 
 always discountenanced anything of the 
 kind.
 
 OUR ARCHERY CLUB. 165 
 
 Our Champion was a tall man, very cool 
 and steady, who went to work at archery 
 exactly as if he were paid a salary, and in- 
 tended to earn his money honestly. He did 
 the best he could in every way. He gener- 
 ally shot with one of the bows owned by the 
 club ; but if any one on the ground had a 
 better one, he would borrow it. He used to 
 shoot sometimes with Pepton's bow, which 
 he declared to be a most capital one ; but as 
 Pepton was always very nervous when he 
 saw his bow in the hands of another than 
 himself, the Champion soon ceased to borrow 
 it. 
 
 There were two badges, one of green silk 
 and gold, for the ladies, and one of green 
 and red, for the gentlemen ; and these were 
 shot for at each weekly meeting. With the 
 exception of a few times, when the club was 
 first formed, the Champion had always worn 
 the gentlemen's badge. Many of us tried 
 hard to win it from him ; but we never 
 could succeed he shot too well. 
 
 On the morning of one of our meeting 
 days, the Champion told me, as I was going 
 to the city with him, that he should not be 
 able to return at his usual hour that after- 
 noon. He would be very busy, and should 
 have to wait for the 6.15 train, which would
 
 1 66 OUK ARCHERY CLUB. 
 
 bring him home too late for the archery 
 meeting. So he gave me the badge, asking 
 me to hand it to the president, that he 
 might bestow it on the successful competi- 
 tor that afternoon. 
 
 We were all rather glad that the Cham- 
 pion was obliged to be absent. Here was 
 a chance for some one of us to win the badge. 
 It was not, indeed, an opportunity for us 
 to win a great deal of honour, for if the 
 Champion were to be there, we should have 
 no chance at all ; but we were satisfied with 
 this much, having no reason in the present, 
 at least to expect anything more. 
 
 So we went to the targets with a new 
 zeal, and most of us shot better than we 
 had ever shot before. In this number was 
 0. J. Hollingsworth. He excelled himself, 
 and, what was worse, he excelled all the 
 rest of us. He actually made a score of 
 eighty-five in twenty-four shots, which at 
 that time was remarkably good shooting, 
 for our club. This was dreadful ! To have 
 a fellow, who didn't know how to shoot, 
 beat us all, was too bad. If any visitor 
 who knew anything at all of archery should 
 see that the member who wore the cham- 
 pion's badge was a man who held his bow 
 as if he had the stomach-ache, it would ruin
 
 OUR ARCHERY CLUB. 167 
 
 our character as a club. It was not to be 
 borne. 
 
 Pepton, in particular, felt greatly out- 
 raged. We had met very promptly that 
 afternoon, and had finished our regular 
 shooting much earlier than usual ; and now 
 a knot of us were gathered together, talking 
 over this unfortunate occurrence. 
 
 " I don't intend to stand it," Pepton sud- 
 denly exclaimed. "I feel it as a personal 
 disgrace. I 'm going to have the Champion 
 here before dark. By the rules, he has a 
 right to shoot until the president declares it 
 is too late. Some of you fellows stay here, 
 and I '11 bring him." 
 
 And away he ran, first giving me charge 
 of his precious bow. There was no need of 
 his asking us to stay. We were bound to 
 see the fun out ; and to fill up the time our 
 president offered a special prize of a hand- 
 some bouquet from his gardens, to be shot 
 for by the ladies. 
 
 Pepton ran to the railroad station, and 
 telegraphed to the Champion. This was his 
 
 " You are absolutely needed here. If possible, 
 take the 5.30 train for Ackford. I will drive 
 over for you. Answer."
 
 1 68 OUR ARCHERY CLUB. 
 
 There was no train before the 6.15 by 
 which the Champion could come directly to 
 our village ; but Ackford, a small town 
 about three miles distant, was on another 
 railroad, on which there were frequent after- 
 noon trains. 
 
 The Champion answered 
 
 " All right. Meet me." 
 
 Then Pepton rushed to our livery stable, 
 hired a horse and buggy, and drove to Ack- 
 ford. 
 
 A little after half-past six, when several 
 of us were beginning to think that Pepton 
 had failed in his plans, he drove rapidly 
 into the grounds, making a very short turn 
 at the gate, and pulled up his panting horse 
 just in time to avoid running over three 
 ladies, who were seated on the grass. The 
 Champion was by his side ! 
 
 The latter lost no time in talking or salu- 
 tations. He knew what he had been brought 
 there to do, and he immediately set about 
 trying to do it. He took Pepton's bow, 
 which the latter urged upon him ; he stood 
 up, straight and firm on the line, at thirty- 
 five yards from the gentlemen's target ; he 
 carefully selected his arrows, examining the 
 feathers and wiping away any bit of soil
 
 OUR ARCHERY CLUB. 169 
 
 that might be adhering to the points after 
 some one had shot them into the turf ; with 
 vigorous arm he drew each arrow to its 
 head ; he fixed his eyes and his whole mind 
 on the centre of the target ; he shot his 
 twenty -four arrows, handed to him, one by 
 one, by Pepton, and he made a score of 
 ninety-one. 
 
 The whole club had been scoring the 
 shots as they were made, and when the last 
 arrow plumped into the red ring, a cheer 
 arose from every member excepting three : 
 the Champion, the president, and O. J. Hol- 
 lingsworth. But Pepton cheered loudly 
 enough to make up these deficiencies. 
 
 " What in the mischief did they cheer 
 him for ? " asked Rollings worth of me. 
 " They didn't cheer me, when I beat every- 
 body on the grounds, an hour ago. And 
 it's no new thing for him to win the 
 badge ; he does it every time." 
 
 "Well," said I frankly, "I think the 
 club, as a club, objects to your wearing the 
 badge, because you don't know how to 
 shoot." 
 
 "Don't know how to shoot !" he cried. 
 " Why, I can hit the target better than any 
 of you. Isn't that what you try to do when 
 you shoot ? "
 
 170 OUR ARCHERY CLUB. 
 
 "Yes," said I, "of course that is what 
 we try to do. But we try to do it in the 
 proper way." 
 
 "Proper grandmother!" he exclaimed. 
 "It don't seem to help you much. The 
 best thing you fellows can do is to learn to 
 shoot my way, and then perhaps you may 
 be able to hit oftener." 
 
 When the Champion had finished shoot- 
 ing, he went home to his dinner, but many 
 of us stood about, talking over our great 
 escape. 
 
 "I feel as if I had done that myself," 
 said Pepton. " I am almost as proud as if 
 I had shot well, not an eagle, but a soaring 
 lark." 
 
 " Why, that ought to make you prouder 
 than the other," said I ; " for a lark, especi- 
 ally when it's soaring, must be a good 
 deal harder to hit than an eagle." 
 
 "That's so," said Pepton reflectively; 
 "but I '11 stick to the lark. I 'm proud." 
 
 During the next month our style of 
 archery improved very much, so much, in- 
 deed, that we increased our distance, for 
 gentlemen, to forty yards, and that for 
 ladies to thirty, and also had serious 
 thoughts of challenging the Ackford club 
 to a match. But as this was generally
 
 OUR ARCHERY CLUB. 171 
 
 understood to be a crack club, we finally 
 determined to defer our challenge until the 
 next season. 
 
 When I say we improved, I do not mean 
 all of us. I do not mean Miss Rosa. Al- 
 though her attitudes were as fine as ever, 
 and every motion as true to rule as ever, 
 she seldom made a hit. Pepton actually 
 did try to teach her how to aim ; but the 
 various methods of pointing the arrow which 
 he suggested resulted in such wild shooting, 
 that the boys who picked up the arrows 
 never dared to stick the points of their 
 noses beyond their boarded barricade dur- 
 ing Miss Rosa's turns at the target. But 
 she was not discouraged ; and Pepton often 
 assured her that if she would keep up a good 
 heart, and practise regularly, she would get 
 the badge yet. As a rule, Pepton was so 
 honest and truthful that a little statement 
 of this kind, especially under the circum- 
 stances, might be forgiven him. 
 
 One day Pepton came to me and announced 
 that he had made a discovery. 
 
 "It's about archery," he said; "and I 
 don't mind telling you, because I know you 
 will not go about telling everybody else, and 
 also because I want to see you succeed as an 
 archer. "
 
 172 OUR ARCHERY CLUB. 
 
 " I am very much obliged," I said ; "and 
 what is the discovery ? " 
 
 "It's this," he answered. "When you 
 draw your bow, bring the nock of your 
 arrow" he was always very particular 
 about technical terms " well up to your 
 ear. Having done that, don't bother any 
 more about your right hand. It has nothing 
 to do with the correct pointing of your 
 arrow, for it must be kept close to your 
 right ear, just as if it were screwed there. 
 Then with your left hand bring around the 
 bow so that your fist with the arrow-head, 
 which is resting on top of it shall point, as 
 nearly as you can make it, directly at the 
 centre of the target. Then let fly, and ten 
 to one you '11 make a hit. Now, what do 
 you think of that, for a discovery ? I Ve 
 thoroughly tested the plan, and it works 
 splendidly." 
 
 "I think," said I, "that you have dis- 
 covered the way in which good archers 
 shoot. You have stated the correct method 
 of managing a bow and arrow." 
 
 "Then you don't think it's an original 
 method with me ? " 
 
 " Certainly not," I answered. 
 
 " But it 's the correct way ? " 
 
 * ' There 's no doubt of that, " said I.
 
 OUR ARCHERY CLUB. 173 
 
 " Well," said Pepton, " then I shall make 
 it my way." 
 
 He did so ; and the consequence was that 
 one day, when the Champion happened to 
 be away, Pepton won the badge. When 
 the result was announced, we were all sur- 
 prised, but none so much so as Pepton him- 
 self. He had been steadily improving since 
 he had adopted a good style of shooting, but 
 he had had no idea that he would that day 
 be able to win the badge. 
 
 When our president pinned the emblem 
 of success upon the lapel of his coat, Pepton 
 turfied pale, and then he flushed. He 
 thanked the president, and was about to 
 thank the ladies and gentlemen ; but pro- 
 bably recollecting that we had had nothing 
 to do with it, unless, indeed, we had shot 
 badly on his behalf, he refrained. He said 
 little, but I could see that he was very proud 
 and very happy. There was but one draw- 
 back to his triumph : Miss Rosa was not 
 there. She was a very regular attendant, 
 but for some reason she was absent on this 
 momentous afternoon. I did not say any- 
 thing to him on the subject, but I knew he 
 felt this absence deeply. 
 
 But this cloud could not wholly over- 
 shadow his happiness. He walked home
 
 174 OUR ARCHERY CLUB. 
 
 alone, his face beaming, his eyes sparkling, 
 and his good bow under his arm. 
 
 That evening I called on him ; for I 
 thought that, when he had cooled down 
 a little, he would like to talk over the affair. 
 But he was not in. Miss Maria said that 
 he had gone out as soon as he had finished 
 his dinner, which he hurried through in a 
 way which would certainly injure his diges- 
 tion if he kept up the practice ; and dinner 
 was late, too, for they waited for him ; and 
 the archery meeting lasted a long time to- 
 day ; and it really was not right for him 
 to stay out after the dew began to fall 
 with only ordinary shoes on, for what 's the 
 good of knowing how to shoot a bow and 
 arrow, if you 're laid up in your bed with 
 rheumatism or disease of the lungs ! Good 
 old lady ! She would have kept Pepton in 
 a green baize bag, had such a thing been 
 possible. 
 
 The next morning, full two hours before 
 church-time, Pepton called on me. His 
 face was still beaming. I could not help 
 smiling. 
 
 " Your happiness lasts well," I said. 
 
 " Lasts ! " he exclaimed. ' ' Why shouldn't 
 it last ! " 
 
 " There 's no reason why it should not at
 
 OUR ARCHERY CLUB. 175 
 
 least for a week," I said. " And even longer, 
 if you repeat your success." 
 
 I did not feel so much like congratulating 
 Pepton as I had on the previous evening. I 
 thought he was making too much of his 
 badge-winning. 
 
 "Look here !" said Pepton, seating him- 
 self, and drawing his chair close to me, " you 
 are shooting wild very wild indeed. You 
 don't even see the target. Let me tell you 
 something. Last evening I went to see Miss 
 Rosa. She was delighted at my success. I 
 had not expected this. I thought she would 
 be pleased, but not to such a degree. Her 
 congratulations were so warm that they set 
 me on fire. " 
 
 "They must have been very warm in- 
 deed," I remarked. 
 
 " 'Miss Rosa,' said I," continued Pepton, 
 without regarding my interruption, " ' it has 
 been my fondest hope to see you wear the 
 badge. ' ' But I never could get it, you know, ' 
 she said. 'You have got it,' I exclaimed. 
 ' Take this. I won it for you. Make me 
 happy by wearing it.' 'I can't do that,' she 
 said. ' That is a gentleman's badge.' ' Take 
 it,' I cried, * gentleman and all ! ' 
 
 " I can't tell you all that happened after 
 that," continued Pepton. "You know it
 
 1 76 OUR ARCHERY CLUB. 
 
 wouldn't do. It is enough to say that she 
 wears the badge. And we are both her own 
 the badge and I ! " 
 
 Now I congratulated him in good earnest. 
 There was a reason for it. 
 
 "I don't care a snap now for shooting an 
 eagle," said Pepton, springing to his feet, 
 and striding up and down the floor. "Let 
 'em all fly free for me. I have made the 
 most glorious shot that man could make. I 
 have hit the gold hit it fair in the very- 
 centre ! And what 's more, I 've knocked it 
 clean out of the target ! Nobody else can 
 ever make such a shot. The rest of you 
 fellows will have to be content to hit the 
 red, the blue, the black, or the white. The 
 gold is mine ! " 
 
 I called on the old ladies, some time after 
 this, and found them alone. They were 
 generally alone in the evenings now. We 
 talked about Pepton's engagement, and I 
 found them resigned. They were sorry to 
 lose him, but they wanted him to be happy. 
 
 "We have always known," said Miss 
 Martha, with a little sigh, " that we must 
 die, and that he must get married. But we 
 don't intend to repine. These things will 
 come to people." And her little sigh was 
 followed by a smile, still smaller.
 
 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE.
 
 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE 
 I. 
 
 IN a general way I am not a superstitious 
 man, but I have a few ideas, or notions, 
 in regard to fatality and kindred subjects of 
 which I have never been able entirely to dis- 
 possess my mind ; nor can I say that I have 
 ever tried very much to do so, for I hold 
 that a certain amount of irrationalism in 
 the nature of a man is a thing to be desired. 
 By its aid he clambers over the wall which 
 limits the action of his intellect, and if he be 
 but sure that he can get back again no harm 
 may come of it, while he is the better for 
 many pleasant excursions. 
 
 My principal superstitious notion, and 
 indeed the only one of importance, is the 
 belief that whatever I earnestly desire and 
 plan for will happen. This idea does not 
 relate to things for which people fight hard, 
 or work long, but to those events for which 
 we sit down and wait. It is truly a pleasant
 
 ISO A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 
 
 belief, and one worthy to be fostered if there 
 can be found any ground for it. I do not 
 exercise my little superstition very often, 
 but when I do I find things happen as I 
 wish ; and in cases where this has not yet 
 occurred there is plenty of time to wait. 
 
 I am not a very old person, being now in 
 my twenty-eighth year, but my two sisters, 
 who live with me, as well as most of my ac- 
 quaintances, look upon me, I think, as an 
 older man. This is not due to my experi- 
 ence in the world, for I have not gone out a 
 great deal among my fellow-men, but rather 
 to my habits of reading and reflection, which 
 have so matured my intellectual nature that 
 the rest of me, so to speak, has insensibly 
 stepped a little faster to keep pace with it. 
 (^race Anna, indeed, is two years older than 
 I, yet I know she looks up to me as a senior 
 quite as much as does Bertha, who is but 
 twenty-four. 
 
 These sisters had often laughingly assured 
 me that the one thing I needed was a wife, 
 and, although I never spoke much on the 
 subject, in the course of time I began to 
 think a good deal about it, and the matter 
 so interested my mind that at last I did a 
 very singular thing. I keep a diary, in which 
 I briefly note daily events, especially those
 
 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 151 
 
 which may, in a degree, be considered as 
 epochs. My book has a page for every day, 
 with the date printed at the top thereof ; 
 not a very desirable form, perhaps, for 
 those who would write much on one day 
 and very little the next, but it suits me 
 well enough, for I seldom enter into details. 
 Not many months ago, as I sat alone, one 
 evening, in my library, turning over the 
 leaves of this diary, I looked ahead at the 
 pages intended for the days of the year that 
 were yej to come, and the thought entered 
 my mind that it was a slavish thing to be 
 able to note only what had happened, and 
 not to dare to write one word upon the blank 
 pages of the next month, or the next, or even 
 of to-morrow. As I turned backward and 
 forward these pages devoted to a record of 
 the future the desire came to me to write 
 something upon one of them. It was a 
 foolish fancy, perhaps, but it pleased me. 
 I would like a diary, not only of what had 
 been, but of what was to be. I longed to 
 challenge fate, and I did it. I selected a 
 page, not too far ahead and in a good time 
 of the year, it was September 14th, and 
 on it I wrote 
 
 "This day came into my life she who is to be 
 my wife."
 
 1 82 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 
 
 When I had made this strange entry I re- 
 garded it with satisfaction. I had fully come 
 to the conclusion that it was due to my posi- 
 tion as the owner of a goodly estate that I 
 should marry. I had felt that at some time 
 I must do something in this matter. And 
 now a thing was done, and a time was fixed. 
 It is true that I knew no woman who was at 
 all likely, upon the day I had selected, or 
 upon any other day, to exercise a matri- 
 monial influence upon my life. But that 
 made no difference to me. I had taken my 
 fate into my own hands, and I would now 
 see what would happen. 
 
 It was then early in July, and in a little 
 more than two months the day which I 
 had made a very momentous one to me 
 would arrive. I cannot say that I had a 
 positive belief that what I had written 
 would occur on the 14th of September, but 
 I had a very strange notion that, as there 
 was no reason why it should not be so, it 
 would be so. At any rate, who could say 
 it would not be so ? This sort of thing was 
 not a belief, but to all intents and purposes 
 it was just as good. 
 
 It was somewhat amusing even to myself, 
 and it would probably have been very amus- 
 ing to any one else acquainted with the cir-
 
 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 183 
 
 cumstances, to observe the influence that 
 this foundationless and utterly irrational 
 expectation had upon me. To the great 
 delight of my sisters, I began to attend 
 to matters in which formerly I had taken 
 little interest. I set two men at work upon 
 the grounds about the house, giving my 
 personal supervision to the removal of the 
 patches of grass in the driveway, which led 
 under the oaks to the door. Here and there 
 I had a panel of fence put in better order, 
 and a dead apple-tree, which for some time 
 had stood on the brow of a hill in view of 
 the house, was cut down and taken away. 
 
 "If any of our friends think of visiting 
 us," said Bertha, "they ought to come now, 
 while everything is looking so trim and 
 nice." 
 
 "Would you like that?" asked Grace 
 Anna, looking at me. 
 
 " Yes," I replied. " That is, they might 
 begin to come now." 
 
 At this both my sisters laughed. 
 
 " Begin to come !" cried Bertha. " How 
 hospitable you are growing !" 
 
 The summer went on, and I kept good 
 faith with my little superstition. If either 
 of us should desert the other, it should not 
 be I who would do it. It pleased me to look
 
 184 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 
 
 forward to the event which I had called 
 up out of the future, and to wait for it if 
 perchance it should come. 
 
 One morning my sister Bertha entered my 
 library, with a letter in her hand and a very 
 pleasant expression on her face. "What do 
 you think ? " she said. " We are going to 
 have a visit ! just as the paint is dry on the 
 back porch, so that we can have tea there in 
 the afternoon." 
 
 " A visit ! " I exclaimed, regarding her 
 with much interest. 
 
 " Yes," continued Bertha. " Kitty Wat- 
 ridge is coming to stay with us. I have 
 written and written to her, and now she is 
 coming." 
 
 "Who is she ? " I asked. 
 
 Bertha laughed. " You haven't forgotten 
 the Watridges, have you ? " 
 
 No, I had not forgotten them ; at least, 
 the only one of them I ever knew. Old Mr. 
 Watridge had been a friend of my late 
 father, a cheerful and rather ruddy man, 
 although much given to books. He had 
 been my friend, too, in the days when he 
 used to come to us ; and I remember well 
 that it was he who started me on a journey 
 along the third shelf from the top, on the 
 east wall of the library, through " The World
 
 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 185 
 
 Displayed," in many volumes, by Smart, 
 Goldsmith, and Johnson ; and thence to 
 some "New Observations on Italy," in 
 French, by two Swedish gentlemen, in 
 1758 ; and so on through many other works 
 of the kind, where I found the countries 
 shown forth on their quaint pages so differ- 
 ent from those of the same name described 
 in modern books of travel that it was to me 
 a virtual enlargement of the world. It had 
 been a long time since I had seen the old 
 gentleman, and I felt sorry for it. 
 
 " Is Mr, Watridge coming ? " I asked. 
 
 "Of course not," said Bertha. "That 
 would be your affair. And besides, he 
 never leaves home now. It is only Kitty, 
 his youngest daughter, my friend. " 
 
 I had an indistinct recollection that Mr. 
 Watridge had some children, and that they 
 were daughters, but that was all I remem- 
 bered about them, ' ' She is grown ? " I 
 asked. 
 
 "I should think so," answered Bertha, 
 with a laugh. " She is at least twenty." 
 
 If my sister could have known the intense 
 interest which suddenly sprung up within 
 me she would have been astounded. A 
 grown-up, marriageable young lady was 
 coming to my house, in September ! My
 
 1 86 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 
 
 next question was asked hurriedly : " When 
 will she be here ? " 
 
 "She is coming next Wednesday, the 
 16th," answered Bertha, referring to her 
 letter. 
 
 "The 16th ! " I said to myself. "That is 
 two days after my date." 
 
 " What kind of a lady is she ? " I asked 
 Bertha. 
 
 "She is lovely, just as lovely as she can 
 be." 
 
 I now began to feel a little disappointed. 
 If she were lovely, as my sister said, and 
 twenty, with good Watridge blood, why 
 did she not come a little sooner ? It was 
 truly an odd thing to do, but I could not 
 forbear expressing what I thought. "I 
 wish," I said, somewhat abstractedly, "that 
 she were coming on Monday instead of 
 Wednesday." 
 
 Bertha laughed heartily. "I was really 
 afraid," she said, "that you might think 
 there were enough girls already in the 
 house. But here you are wanting Kitty 
 to come before she is ready. Grace Anna ! " 
 she cried to my elder sister, who was passing 
 the open door, "he isn't put out a bit, and 
 he is in such a hurry to see Kitty that he 
 thinks she should come on Monday. "
 
 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 187 
 
 It was impossible to chide my sisters for 
 laughing at me, and I could not help smiling 
 myself. " It is not that I am in a hurry to 
 see her," I observed, "for I do not know 
 the young lady at all ; but I consider Monday 
 a more suitable day than Wednesday for her 
 arrival. " 
 
 "It is odd," replied Bertha, "that you 
 should prefer one day to another." 
 
 "Is there any reason why it does not suit 
 you to have her come on Wednesday ? " 
 asked Grace Anna. "Her visit might be 
 deferred a day or two." 
 
 Of course I could give no reason, and I 
 did not wish the visit deferred. 
 
 "It's just because he's so dreadfully 
 systematic ! " cried Bertha. ' ' He thinks 
 everything ought to begin at the beginning 
 of the week, and that even a visit should 
 make a fair start on Monday, and not break 
 in unmethodically." 
 
 My elder sister was always very con- 
 siderate of my welfare and my wishes, and 
 had it been practicable I believe that she 
 would have endeavoured in this instance to 
 make our hospitality conform to what ap- 
 peared to be my love of system and order. 
 But she explained to me that, apart from 
 the awkwardness of asking the young lady
 
 1 88 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 
 
 to change the day which she had herself fixed, 
 without being able to give any good reason 
 therefor, it would be extremely inconvenient 
 for them to have their visitor before Wednes- 
 day, as an earlier arrival would materially in- 
 terfere with certain household arrangements. 
 I said no more, but I was disappointed ; 
 and this feeling grew upon me, for the reason 
 that during the rest of the day and the even- 
 ing my sisters talked a great deal about their 
 young friend, and I found that, unless they 
 were indeed most prejudiced judges, which 
 in the case of Grace Anna, at least, I could 
 never believe, this young person who was 
 coming to us must be possessed of most ad- 
 mirable personal qualities. She was pretty ; 
 she had excellent moral sentiments, a well- 
 cultured intellect, and a lovable disposition. 
 These, with the good blood, which, in my 
 opinion, was a most important requisite, 
 made up a woman in every way fitted to 
 enter my life in a matrimonial capacity. If, 
 without any personal bias, I had been select- 
 ing a wife for a friend, I could not have ex- 
 pected to do better than this. That such a 
 young person should come within the range 
 of my cognisance on the wrong day would 
 be, to say the least, a most annoying occur- 
 rence. Why did I not select the 16th, or
 
 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE, 189 
 
 she the 14th ? A fate that was two days 
 slow might as well be no fate at all. My 
 meeting with the girl would have no mean- 
 ing. I must admit that the more I thought 
 about this girl the more I wished it should 
 have a meaning. 
 
 During the night, or perhaps very early 
 in the morning, a most felicitous idea came 
 into my mind. I would assist my fate. My 
 idea was this : On Monday I would drive to 
 Mr. Watridge's house. It was a pleasant 
 day's journey. I would spend Tuesday with 
 him, and, returning on Wednesday, I could 
 bring Miss Kitty with me. Thus all the 
 necessary conditions would be fulfilled. She 
 would come into my life on the 14th, and I 
 would have opportunities of knowing her 
 which probably would not occur to me at 
 home. Everything would happen as it 
 should ; only, instead of the lady coming 
 to me, I should go to her. 
 
 As I expected, my project, when I an- 
 nounced it at the breakfast table, was the 
 occasion of much mirth, especially on the 
 part of Bertha. ' ' I never saw anything 
 like it ! " she cried. ' ' You want to see 
 Kitty even more than I do. I should never 
 have thought of such a thing as going for 
 her two days in advance."
 
 IQO A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 
 
 "As it would have been impossible for 
 you to do so," said I, "I can easily conceive 
 that you would not have allowed the idea to 
 enter your mind. " 
 
 Grace Anna, however, looked upon my 
 plan with much favour, and entered into its 
 details with interest, dwelling particularly 
 on the pleasure Mr. Watridge would derive 
 from my visit. 
 
 I looked forward with great pleasure to 
 the little journey I was about to make. 
 The distance from Eastover, my residence, 
 to Mr. Watridge's house was some twenty- 
 five miles, a very suitable day's drive in 
 fine weather. The road led through a plea- 
 sant country, with several opportunities for 
 pretty views ; and about half-way was a 
 neat tavern, standing behind an immense 
 cherry-tree, where a stop could be made for 
 rest and for a midday meal. I had a com- 
 fortable, easy-cushioned buggy, well pro- 
 vided with protective appurtenances in case 
 of rain or too much sunshine ; and my sisters 
 and myself were of the opinion that, under 
 ordinary circumstances, no one would hesi- 
 tate between this vehicle and the crowded 
 stage-coach, which was the only means of 
 communication between our part of the 
 country and that in which the Watridge 
 estate lay.
 
 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. IQI 
 
 I made an early start on Monday morn- 
 ing, with my good horse, Dom Pedro ; 
 named by my sister Bertha, but whether 
 for the Emperor of Brazil, or for a social 
 game of cards which we generally played 
 when we had two or three visitors, and 
 therefore there were too many of us for 
 whist, I do not know. I arrived at my 
 destination towards the close of the after- 
 noon, and old Mr. Watridge was delighted 
 to see me. We spent a pleasant hour in his 
 library, waiting for the return of his two 
 daughters, who were out for a walk. It 
 must be admitted that it was with consider- 
 able emotional perturbation that I beheld 
 the entrance into that room of Miss Kitty 
 Watridge. She came in alone ; her sister, 
 who was much older, being detained by 
 some household duties, connected, probably, 
 with my unexpected arrival. This, with 
 the action of Mr. Watridge in presently 
 excusing himself for a time, gave me an 
 opportunity, more immediate than I had 
 expected, for an uninterrupted study of this 
 young lady, who had become to me so im- 
 portant a person. 
 
 I will not describe Kitty, her appearance, 
 nor her conversation, but will merely remark 
 that before we were joined by her father and
 
 IQ2 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 
 
 sister I would have been quite willing, so far 
 as I was concerned, to show her the entry in 
 my diary. 
 
 It may be that a man heavily clad with 
 the armour of reserve and restraint sinks 
 more quickly and deeper than one not so 
 encumbered, when he finds himself suddenly 
 in a current of that sentiment which now 
 possessed me. Be that as it may, my de- 
 termination was arrived at before I slept 
 that night : Kitty Watridge had entered 
 into my life on the 14th of September, and 
 I was willing to accept her as my wife. 
 
 As the son of an old comrade on the part 
 of the father, and as the brother of two dear 
 friends on the part of the daughters, I was 
 treated with hearty cordiality by his family, 
 and the next day was a most pleasing and 
 even delightful one to me, until the evening 
 came. Then a cloud, and a very heavy one, 
 arose upon my emotional horizon. I had 
 stated how I purposed to make the little 
 journey of Miss Kitty to our house more 
 comfortable and expeditious than it would 
 otherwise be, and Mr. Watridge had ex- 
 pressed himself very much pleased with the 
 plan ; while Kitty had declared that it 
 would be charming, especially when com- 
 pared with travel by stage-coach, of which
 
 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 193 
 
 the principal features, in her idea of it, 
 appeared to be mothers, little children, and 
 lunch baskets. But, after dinner, Miss 
 Maria, the elder daughter, remarked very 
 quietly, but very positively, that she did 
 not think it would do that is the phrase 
 she used for me to drive her sister to East- 
 over. She gave no reasons, and I asked 
 none, but it was quite evident that her 
 decision was not one to be altered. 
 
 "It would be far better," she said, "not 
 to change our original plan, and for Kitty, 
 as well as her trunk, to go by the stage. 
 Mrs. Karcroft is going the .whole of the 
 way, and Kitty will be well taken care 
 of." 
 
 Miss Maria was the head of the house ; 
 she had acted for many years as the maternal 
 director of her sister ; and I saw very soon 
 that what the other two members of the 
 family might think upon the subject would 
 matter very little. The father, indeed, made 
 at first some very vigorous dissent, urging 
 that it would be a shame to make me take 
 that long drive home alone, when I had ex- 
 pected company ; and although Kitty said 
 nothing, I am sure she looked quite dis- 
 appointed. But neither words nor looks 
 availed anything. Miss Maria was placid, 
 
 S.M. N
 
 194 A STORY OF ASSISTED ATE. 
 
 but very firm, and under her deft manage- 
 ment of the conversation the subject was 
 soon dismissed as settled. 
 
 "I am very sorry," observed the old gen- 
 tleman to me, when the ladies had bidden 
 us good-night, "that Kitty cannot take ad- 
 vantage of your invitation, which was a very 
 kind one, and to which I see not the slight- 
 est objection. My daughter Maria has very 
 peculiar ideas sometimes, but as she acts as 
 a sort of mother here we don't like to inter- 
 fere with her." 
 
 "I would not have you do so for the 
 world," answered I. 
 
 " You are very good, very good ! : ' ex- 
 claimed Mr. Watridge ; " and I must say I 
 think it 's a confounded shame that you and 
 Kitty cannot take that pleasant drive to- 
 gether. Suppose you go with her in the 
 stage, and let me send a man to Eastover 
 with your horse and vehicle. " 
 
 " I thank you very kindly, sir," I replied, 
 *' but it will be better for me to return the 
 way I came ; and your daughter will have a 
 companion, I understand." 
 
 " Nobody but old Mrs. Karcroft, and she 
 counts for nothing as company. You had 
 better think of it. " 
 
 I would not consent, however, to make
 
 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 195 
 
 any change in my arrangements ; and, 
 shortly after, I retired. 
 
 I went to bed that night a very angry man. 
 When I prepared a plan or scheme with 
 which no reasonable fault could be found, 
 I was not accustomed to have it thwarted, 
 or indeed even objected to. I was dis- 
 pleased with Mr. Watridge because he 
 allowed himself to be so easily influenced, 
 and I was even dissatisfied with Kitty's 
 want of spirit, though of course she could 
 not have been expected to exhibit an eager- 
 ness to accompany me. But with that 
 horrible old maid, Miss Maria, I was truly 
 indignant. There frequently arises in the 
 mind an image which forcibly connects itself 
 with the good or bad qualities of a person 
 under our contemplation, and thus Miss 
 Maria appeared to me in the character of a 
 moral pepper-box. Virtue is like sugar or 
 cream, good in itself, and of advantage to 
 that with which it is suitably mingled ; but 
 Miss Maria's propriety was the hottest and 
 most violent sort of pepper, extremely dis- 
 agreeable in itself, and never needed except 
 in the case of weak moral digestion. Her 
 objections were an insult to me. I went to 
 sleep thinking of a little pepper cruet which 
 I would like to have made of silver for my
 
 ig6 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 
 
 table, to take the place of the owl or other 
 conventional pattern, which should be ex- 
 actly like Miss Maria, hard and unimpres- 
 sionable without, hollow within, and the 
 top of its head perforated with little holes. 
 At breakfast I endeavoured to be coldl)' 
 polite, but it must have been easy for the 
 family to perceive that I was very much 
 offended. I requested that my horse and 
 buggy should be made ready as soon as 
 possible. While I was waiting for it on the 
 porch, where Mr. Watridge had just left 
 me, Miss Kitty came out to me. This was 
 the first time I had been alone with her 
 since the preceding afternoon, when we had 
 had a most charming walk through the 
 orchard and over the hills to a high point, 
 where we had stayed until we saw the sun 
 go down. 
 
 " It seems a real pity,'' she observed very 
 prettily, and in a tone which touched me, 
 "that you should be driving off now by 
 yourself, while in about an hour I shall start 
 from the same place." 
 
 " Miss Kitty," said I, " would you like to 
 go with me ? ' ' 
 
 She hesitated for a moment, looked down, 
 and then looked up, and said, " So far as I 
 am concerned, I think I mean I know
 
 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 1 97 
 
 that I should like very much to go with you. 
 But you see " and then she hesitated again. 
 
 " Say no more, I pray you ! " I exclaimed. 
 I would not place her in the unpleasant 
 position of defending, or even explaining, 
 the unwarrantable interference of a relative. 
 "If you really wish to accompany me," I 
 continued, warmly shaking her hand, for my 
 buggy was now approaching, " I am entirely 
 satisfied, and nothing more need be said. 
 It is, in a measure, the same as if you were 
 going with me. Good-bye." 
 
 A moment before I was depressed and 
 morose. Now I was exuberantly joyful. 
 The change was sudden, but there was reason 
 for it. Kitty wished to go with me, and had 
 come to tell me so ! 
 
 Mr. Watridge and his elder daughter now 
 appeared in the doorway, and as I took leave 
 of the latter I am sure she noticed a change 
 in my manner. I said no more to her than 
 was absolutely necessary, but the sudden 
 cheerfulness which had taken possession of 
 me could not be repressed even in her pre- 
 sence. 
 
 The old gentleman accompanied me to the 
 carriage-block. " I don't want to bore you 
 about it," he said, " but I really am sorry 
 you are going away alone."
 
 198 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 
 
 I felt quite sure, from several things Mr. 
 Watridge had said and done during my visit, 
 that he would be well pleased to see his 
 younger daughter and myself thrown very 
 much into the company of each other, and 
 to have us remain so, indeed, for the rest of 
 our lives. And there was no reason why he 
 should not desire it. In every way the 
 conditions of such a union would be most 
 favourable. 
 
 "Thank you very much," I returned; 
 " but the pleasure of having your daughter 
 at my house will make me forget this little 
 disappointment. " 
 
 He looked at me with glistening eyes. 
 Had I boldly asked him, "Will you be 
 my father-in-law ? " no more favourable an- 
 swer could have come from his lips than I 
 now saw upon his countenance. 
 
 " Good fortune be with you ! " were his 
 last words as I drove away. 
 
 I do not suppose anything of the kind 
 could be more delightful than my drive that 
 morning. Miss Kitty had said that she would 
 like to be my companion, and I determined 
 to have her so in imagination, if not in fact. 
 The pleasures of fancy are sometimes more 
 satisfactory than those of reality, for we have 
 them entirely under our control. I chose
 
 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 1 99 
 
 now to imagine that Miss Kitty was seated 
 by my side, and I sat well to the right, that 
 I might give her plenty of room. In ima- 
 gination I conversed with her, and she 
 answered me as I would have her. Our 
 remarks were carefully graduated to the 
 duration of our acquaintance and the seemly 
 progress of our intimacy. I wished to dis- 
 cover the intellectual status of the fair young 
 creature who had come into my life on the 
 14th of September. I spoke to her of books, 
 and found that her reading had been varied 
 and judicious. She had read Farrar's Life 
 of Christ, but did not altogether like it ; 
 and while she had much enjoyed Froude's 
 Ccesar, she could have wished to believe 
 the author as just as he endeavoured to make 
 his hero appear. With modern romance she 
 had dealt but lightly, rather preferring 
 works of history and travel, even when per- 
 vaded with the flavour of the eighteenth 
 century. But we did not always speak of 
 abstract subjects ; we were both susceptible 
 to the influences of nature, and my com- 
 panion enjoyed as much as I did the bright 
 sunshine tempered by a cooling breeze, 
 the clear sky with fair white clouds float- 
 ing along the horizon, and the occasional 
 views of the blue and distant mountains,
 
 200 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 
 
 their tops suffused with warm autumnal 
 mists. After a time I asked her if I might 
 call her Kitty, and glancing downward, and 
 then up, with the same look she had given 
 me on the porch, she said I might. This 
 was very pleasant, and was not, in my 
 opinion, an undue familiarity, which fea- 
 ture I was very careful to eliminate from 
 our companionship. One act, however, of 
 what might be termed super-friendly kind- 
 ness I intended to propose, and the con- 
 templation of its probable acceptance 
 afforded me much pleasure. After our 
 quiet luncheon in the shaded little dining- 
 room of the Cherry-Tree Inn, and when she 
 had rested as long as she chose, we would 
 begin our afternoon journey, and the road, 
 before very long, would lead us through a 
 great pine wood. Here, rolling over the 
 hard, smooth way, and breathing the gentle 
 odour of the pines, she would naturally feel 
 a little somnolent, and I intended to say to 
 her that if she liked she might rest her head 
 upon my shoulder, and doze. If I should 
 hear the sound of approaching wheels I 
 would gently arouse her ; but as an inter- 
 ruption of this kind was not likely to occur, 
 I thought with much satisfaction of the plea- 
 sure I should have in the afternoon, when
 
 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 2OI 
 
 this fancy would be appropriate. To look 
 upon the little head gently resting on that 
 shoulder, which, when our acquaintance had 
 more fully developed, I would offer her as 
 a permanent possession, would be to me a 
 preconnubial satisfaction of a very high 
 order. 
 
 When about a mile from the Cherry-Tree 
 Inn, and with my mind filled with these 
 agreeable fancies, an accident happened to 
 me. One of the irons which connected the 
 shafts to the front axle broke, and the con- 
 ditions of my progress became abruptly 
 changed. The wheel at that end of the 
 axle to which a shaft was yet attached 
 went suddenly forward, and the other flew 
 back and grated against the side of the 
 buggy, while both wheels, instead of rolling 
 in the general course of the vehicle, were 
 dragged in a sidewise direction. The dis- 
 connected shaft fell upon the legs of Dom 
 Pedro, who, startled by the unusual sensa- 
 tion, forsook his steady trot, and broke into 
 a run. Thus, with the front wheels scrap- 
 ing the road, the horse attached but by a 
 single shaft, I was hurried along at an 
 alarming pace. Pull as I might, I could 
 not check the progress of Dom Pedro ; and 
 if this state of affairs had continued for
 
 202 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 
 
 more than the few moments which it really 
 lasted, the front wheels would have been 
 shattered, and I do not know what sad 
 results might have ensued. But the other 
 shaft broke loose, the reins were rudely torn 
 from my hands, and the horse, now free 
 from attachment to the vehicle, went clat- 
 tering along the road, the shafts bobbing at 
 his heels ; while the buggy, following the 
 guidance of the twisted front axle, ran into 
 a shallow ditch at the side of the road, and 
 abruptly stopped. 
 
 Unhurt I sprang out, and my first thought 
 was one of joy that the Kitty who had been 
 by my side was an imaginary one. Had the 
 real Kitty been there, what might not have 
 happened to her ! A dozen possible acci- 
 dents crowded themselves on my mind, and 
 I have no doubt my countenance expressed 
 my feelings. 
 
 There was nothing to be done but to take 
 my valise and the whip from the buggy, and 
 walk on to the inn, where I found the land- 
 lord in the act of saddling a horse, to come 
 and see what had happened to me. Dom 
 Pedro had arrived with a portion of the 
 shafts attached to him, the rest having been 
 kicked away. The accident occasioned con- 
 siderable stir at the inn ; but as I never
 
 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 2O3 
 
 cared to discuss my personal affairs any 
 further than is necessary, it was soon ar- 
 ranged that after I had lunched I would 
 borrow a saddle from the landlord, and ride 
 Dom Pedro home, while the broken buggy 
 would be brought to the inn, where I would 
 send for it the next day. This plan did not 
 please me, for I was not fond of equestri- 
 anism, and Dom Pedro was rather a hard 
 trotter ; but there was nothing better to do. 
 Had I not taken this road, which was much 
 more agreeable although rather longer than 
 the high road, I might have been picked up 
 by the stage which was conveying Miss Kitty 
 to my house. 
 
 While I was yet at my meal there arrived 
 at the inn a young man, who shortly after- 
 ward entered the room, and informed me 
 that, having heard of my accident, he came 
 to offer me a seat in the buggy in which he 
 was travelling. He was going my way, and 
 would be glad of a companion. This invita- 
 tion, given as it was by a well-appearing 
 young man of pleasing manners, was, after 
 a little consideration, accepted by me. I 
 would much prefer to ride a dozen miles in 
 a buggy with a stranger than on horseback 
 alone. 
 
 The drive of the afternoon was very dif-
 
 2O4 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 
 
 ferent from what I had expected it to be, but 
 it was not devoid of some pleasant features. 
 My companion was sociable, and not too 
 communicative ; although he annoyed me 
 very much by giving me the entirely un- 
 called-for information that if I had had 
 short straps from the ends of the shafts to 
 the axle, which no well-ordered buggy 
 should be without, the accident would not 
 have occurred. I passed this by, and our 
 conversation became more general, and to 
 me more acceptable. The young man was 
 going to Harnden, a village not far from my 
 house, where he appeared to have some 
 business, and he assured me that he would 
 not object in the least to go a little out of 
 his way and set me down at my door. 
 
 We reached Eastover quite late in the 
 afternoon, and I perceived, from the group 
 on the porch, that Miss Kitty had arrived. 
 All three of the ladies came down to meet 
 me, evidently very much surprised to see 
 me in a strange vehicle. When I alighted, 
 and was hastily explaining to my sisters the 
 cause of this change of conveyance, I was 
 surprised to see Miss Kitty shaking hands 
 with the young man, who was standing by 
 his horse's head. My elder sister, Grace 
 Anna, who had also noticed this meeting,
 
 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 205 
 
 now approached the pair, and was intro- 
 duced to the gentleman. In a few moments 
 she returned to me, who had been regarding 
 the interview with silent amazement. 
 
 " It is Harvey Glade," she said, " Kitty's 
 cousin. We should invite him to stay here 
 to-night." 
 
 I cannot conceive of anything which more 
 quickly than these words would have snuffed 
 out the light which had illumined the 
 vision of my house with Kitty in it ; but it 
 was impossible for me to forget that I was 
 a gentleman and the master of Eastover, 
 and, instantly causing my perception of 
 these facts to take precedence of my gather- 
 ing emotions, I stepped up to Miss Kitty, 
 and, asking to be introduced to her cousin, 
 I begged him to make my house his home 
 during his stay in the neighbourhood. 
 
 This invitation was accepted, as I sup- 
 posed it would be when I made it ; yet I 
 must own that I did not expect Mr. Glade 
 to remain at my house for a week. Of 
 course his presence prevented the execution 
 of any of my plans regarding the promotion 
 of my intimacy with Kitty ; but although 
 the interruption caused me much vexation, 
 I maintained the equanimity due to my posi- 
 tion, and hoped each day that the young
 
 206 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 
 
 man would take his leave. Towards the end 
 of his visit I became aware, through the 
 medium of my sisters, to whom I had left 
 in a great degree the entertainment of our 
 guests, that young Glade was actually en- 
 gaged to be married to Kitty. She had told 
 them so herself. This statement, which 
 chilled to the verge of frigidity my every 
 sensibility, was amplified as follows : The 
 young people had been attached to each 
 other for some time, but the visits of Glade 
 having been discouraged by Miss Kitty's 
 family, they had not seen each other lately, 
 and there had been no positive declaration 
 of amatory sentiment on the part of either. 
 But this protracted sojourn in my house had 
 given the young man all the opportunity he 
 could desire, and the matter was settled so 
 definitely that there was no reason to sup- 
 pose that the better judgment of her elders 
 would cause the young woman to change her 
 mind. 
 
 Here was a fine ending to my endeavours 
 to assist my fate. Instead of so doing, I 
 had assisted the fate of Mr. Harvey Glade, 
 in whose welfare I had no interest whatever. 
 He had not known that Miss Kitty was 
 coming to my house ; he had not even been 
 aware, until he met her at Eastover, that I
 
 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 2O7 
 
 was acquainted with her family. Had it not 
 been for my endeavours to promote my own 
 fortune in the direction of the lady, he would 
 have had no opportunity to make her his 
 own ; and they probably would not have seen 
 each other again, unless he had happened to 
 call upon her as the mistress of Eastover. 
 Instead of aiding Miss Kitty to enter my 
 life on the 14th of September, I had ushered 
 her into his life on the 16th of that month. 
 
 For a week after the departure of our 
 guests the young man went first I found 
 myself in a state of mental depression from 
 which the kindly efforts of my sisters could 
 not arouse me. Not only was I deeply 
 chagrined at what had occurred, but it 
 wounded my self-respect to think that my 
 fate, which had been satisfactorily pursuing 
 the course I had marked out for it, should 
 have been thus suddenly and disastrously 
 turned aside. I felt that I must confess 
 myself conquered. It was an unusual and a 
 difficult thing for me to do this, but there 
 was no help for it. I took out my diary, 
 and turned to the page whereon I had chal- 
 lenged fate. That entry must be erased. I 
 must humble myself, and acknowledge it 
 untrue. 
 
 At the moment that I dipped the pen in
 
 208 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 
 
 the inkstand there was a knock at the door, 
 and Grace Anna entered. 
 
 "I have just had a letter," she said, 
 "from dear Jane Wilt by, who married your 
 old schoolfellow, Dr. Tom. I thought you 
 would like to hear the news it contains. 
 They have a little girl, and she is to be 
 named for me." 
 
 "How old is it?" I asked, with indiffer- 
 ent interest. 
 
 " She was born on the 14th of September," 
 said Grace Anna. 
 
 I sat erect, and looked at my sister 
 looked at her without seeing her. Thoughts, 
 like clouds upon the horizon brightened by 
 the rays of dawn, piled themselves up in 
 my mind. Dr. Tom, the companion of my 
 youth, ever my cherished friend ! Jane, 
 woman above women ! Grace Anna ! 
 
 I laid down the pen, and, leaving the 
 momentous and prognostic entry just as I 
 had written it, I closed my diary, and placed 
 it in my desk. 
 
 He who cannot adapt himself to the 
 vagaries of a desired fate, who cannot 
 place himself upon the road by which he 
 expects it to come, and who cannot wait 
 for it with cheerful confidence, is not worthy 
 to be an assistant arbiter of his destiny.
 
 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 2O9 
 
 IL 
 
 THE fact that on the day indicated in my 
 diary a young creature not only came into 
 my life, but into her own, greatly satisfied 
 and encouraged me. I would begin at the 
 beginning. Within the sphere of my imme- 
 diate cognisance would grow and develop 
 the infant, the child, the girl, the woman, 
 and finally, the wife. What influence 
 might I not have upon this development? 
 The parents were my friends ; the child 
 was my selected bride. The possibilities 
 of advantageous guidance, unseen perhaps, 
 but potent to a degree unattainable by a 
 mere parent or guardian, were, to my think- 
 ing, boundless. 
 
 I was now more content than I had been 
 in the case of the young lady whom I had 
 supposed had been given me by Fate, but 
 who, it now appeared very fortunately, had 
 been snatched away before my irrevocable 
 mistake had been made. I was very grate- 
 ful for this : I was grateful to Fate ; I was 
 
 B. M. o
 
 210 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 
 
 grateful to Mr. Glade, the successful lover ; 
 I was even grateful to Kitty for not having 
 allowed herself to be influenced by any- 
 thing she may have seen in me during our 
 short acquaintance. Of the past of Kitty I 
 knew little, as was well demonstrated by 
 the appearance of Harvey Glade. My 
 present fiancte had no past. With her and 
 with me it was all future, which would 
 gently crystallise, minute by minute and 
 day by day, into a present which would be 
 mutually our own. 
 
 Of course I said nothing of all this to any 
 one. The knowledge of our destiny was 
 locked up in the desk which held my diary 
 and in my own heart. When the proper 
 time came, she, first, should know. I am 
 an honourable man, and as such felt fully 
 qualified to be the custodian of what was, 
 in fact, her secret as well as mine. 
 
 I took an early opportunity to become ac- 
 quainted with the one who was to be the 
 future partner of my life. It was towards 
 the end of October, I think, that I paid a 
 visit to Dr. Tom Wiltby and his wife Jane, 
 my predestined parents-in-law. Had they 
 known the position they occupied towards 
 me, they would have been a very much sur- 
 prised couple. The interest I exhibited in
 
 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 211 
 
 their first-born did, as I thought, surprise 
 them a little, but it only increased the 
 warmth of the welcome they gave me, and 
 drew me closer to their hearts. The emo- 
 tions which possessed me when, in the pre- 
 ceding summer, I had stood awaiting the 
 moment when Kitty Watridge should enter 
 the room and first present herself to my 
 sight were nothing to those which quickened 
 the action of my heart as a nurse brought 
 into the Wiltby parlour a carefully disposed 
 bundle of drapery, in the midst of which re- 
 posed my future wife. 
 
 I approached, and looked at her. Her 
 face was displayed to view, but her form 
 was undistinguishable. For an instant our 
 eyes met ; but, so far as I could judge, no 
 spark of reciprocal sympathy seemed to 
 shine from hers. In fact, they rolled about 
 in an irrelevant manner which betokened a 
 preoccupation so intense that even the ad- 
 vent of a husband could have no effect upon 
 it. But whatever the child had on its mind 
 or stomach gave a volcanic mobility to 
 its countenance, which caused me much to 
 wonder. The eyes then closed, and ap- 
 peared to be writhing and swelling beneath 
 their lids ; the mouth was alternately con- 
 voluted and unrolled towards nose, cheeks,
 
 212 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 
 
 and chin ; while the rest of the face, which 
 had been of an Indian reddish hue, now dark- 
 ened, and from the puffy jaws to the top of 
 the bald head seemed moved by a spasm, 
 but whether of premonition or despair I 
 could not tell. 
 
 I withdrew my gaze. It might be well 
 that I should wait for a time before allow- 
 ing my eyes to feed upon this countenance. 
 
 I went away a little disappointed. The 
 chaoticness of initiatory existence had never 
 before been so forcibly impressed on my 
 mind. 
 
 During the following winter and spring I 
 built up an ideal, or rather a series of ideals. 
 They were little children, they were girls, 
 they were women. At about nineteen years 
 of age the individual existence of each 
 ended, and became merged into the oneness 
 of my matrimonial life. Sometimes my 
 ideal was a blonde, sometimes a brunette. 
 From the cursory glance I had had of the one 
 to whom all these fancies referred, I could 
 not judge whether she would be dark or 
 fair. She had no hair, and all that I could 
 remember of her eyes was that they had no 
 soul light. Her father was dark, her mother 
 fair : she might be either. 
 
 Of all the legendary heroines of love, none
 
 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 213 
 
 ever so impressed me as that Francesca 
 whose strong love not only braved every 
 prejudice and barrier of earth, but, accord- 
 ing to eye-witnesses of the fact, floated with 
 her indefinitely through hell. In verse and 
 picture, and upon the stage, I knew Fran- 
 cesca well, better, perhaps, than any other 
 woman. But to such an one I would not be 
 merely a Paolo, but the elder brother also. 
 I would have no proxy, no secret love, no 
 unfaithfulness. There should be all the im- 
 petuosity, all the spirit of self-immolation, 
 without any necessity for it. She who was 
 to be mine had become in my thoughts a 
 Francesca, and she grew before my mind to 
 ripened loveliness. Her eyes sparkled with 
 rapture when, as through the gates of old 
 Eavenna, the fair Ghibelline first saw the 
 brave rider that she thought to wed, so this 
 one would see through the gates of womanly 
 consciousness, not a mere envoy, but both 
 Malatesta brothers in one, lover and hus- 
 band, me. With such an imaginary one I 
 read legends of old loves ; with such an one 
 I sat in shaded bowers, her young face up- 
 turned to mine, and the red light from the 
 wings touching with colour the passionate 
 picture. But no jester watched with sneer- 
 ing gibes, no husband fought afar on battle-
 
 214 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 
 
 field ; Paolo and Lanciotto in one looked 
 into the uplifted eyes. 
 
 It was in the early summer that my two 
 sisters and myself were invited to the 
 Wiltby mansion for a visit, which our 
 kindly hosts hoped would be somewhat pro- 
 tracted. Among other things that were to 
 be done the baby was to be baptized, and 
 Grace Anna, for whom she was named, was 
 to act as godmother. I was very glad to 
 make this visit. Quite a long time had now 
 elapsed since my first interview with Fran- 
 cesca, as I always intended to call her, 
 notwithstanding the name that might be 
 bestowed upon her by the Church ; and she 
 must have now begun to foreshadow, in a 
 measure, that which she was to be. 
 
 When I saw her I found that there was 
 not quite so much foreshadowing as I had 
 expected ; but, in spite of that, she was a 
 little creature whom, without doing violence 
 to any aesthetic instinct, I could take to my 
 heart. She was a pudgy infant, with blue 
 eyes, a blankety head, and a mouth that 
 was generally ready to break into a smile if 
 you tickled the corners of it. Instead of 
 the long and flowing draperies in which I 
 first beheld her, she now wore short dresses, 
 and that she possessed remarkably fat legs
 
 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 215 
 
 and blue woollen socks was a fact which 
 Francesca never failed to endeavour to im- 
 press upon my observation. I excited a 
 great deal of surprise, with some admiration 
 on the part of the mother and occasional 
 jocular remarks from Bertha, my younger 
 sister, by showing, at the very beginning of 
 our visit, a strong preference for the society 
 of the baby. I asked to be allowed to take 
 her into my arms, and walk with her into 
 the garden ; and although this privilege was 
 at first denied me, unless some lady should 
 accompany me, I being considered quite in- 
 experienced in the care of an infant, I at 
 last gained my point, and frequently had 
 the pleasure of a tete-d,-tete stroll with Fran- 
 cesca. With my future bride in my arms, 
 slowly walking in the shaded avenues of 
 the garden, I gave my imagination full play. 
 I enlarged her eyes, and gave them a steadi- 
 ness of upturn which they did not now pos- 
 sess ; the white fuzz upon her head grew 
 into rich masses of gold-brown hair ; the 
 nose was lengthened and refined ; her lips 
 were less protruded, and made more con- 
 tinuously dry ; while a good deal of fatty 
 deposit was removed from the cheeks and 
 the second chin. As I walked thus tenderly 
 gazing down upon her, and often removing
 
 2l6 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 
 
 her little fist from her mouth, I pictured in 
 her lineaments the budding womanhood for 
 which I waited. I would talk softly to her, 
 and although she seldom answered but in a 
 gurgling monotone I saw in our intercourse 
 the dawning of a unity to be. 
 
 After we had been a few days at the 
 Wiltby house Miss Kitty Watridge came 
 there, also on a visit. Her engagement to 
 Mr. Glade had not produced much effect 
 upon her personal appearance, although I 
 thought her something quieter, and with a 
 little sedateness which I had not observed 
 in her before. Her advent at this time was 
 not to my liking. As an object of my regard, 
 she had, in becoming engaged to another, 
 ceased to exist ; she had passed out of my 
 sphere of consideration, and the fact that she 
 had once acted a prominent part within it 
 made it appear to me that propriety de- 
 manded that she should not only go out of 
 it, but stay out of it. Her influence upon 
 my intercourse with Francesca was, from the 
 first, objectionable. My sisters had always 
 been accustomed to regard my wishes with a 
 gratifying respect, and Mrs. Wiltby seemed 
 anxious to imitate them in this laudable 
 action. But Miss Watridge had apparently 
 no such ideas, and she showed this most ob-
 
 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 217 
 
 jectionably by imagining that she had as 
 much right to the baby as I had. Of course 
 she could not understand how matters stood, 
 nobody but myself could understand that ; 
 but she had not the native delicacy of per- 
 ception of my sisters and Jane Wiltby. She 
 could not know in how many ways she in- 
 terfered with my desires and purposes. My 
 morning walks were, in a manner, broken 
 up ; for sometimes the new-comer actually 
 insisted upon carrying the baby herself, in 
 which case I retired, and sought some other 
 promenade. But after a few days I found 
 that the indulgence of any resentment of 
 this sort not only made me the object of re- 
 mark, but promised to entirely break up my 
 plans in regard to Francesca. I wished to 
 create in my mind while here such an image 
 of her, matured and perfected according to 
 my own ideas, that I could live and com- 
 mune with her during the absences, more or 
 less protracted, which must intervene before 
 the day when I should take her wholly to 
 myself. As I could not expect to stay here 
 very much longer, I must not lose what 
 opportunities I had, and so concluded to 
 resume my walks with Francesca, even if 
 Miss Watridge should sometimes intrude 
 herself upon us.
 
 2l8 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 
 
 I must admit, however, that this she did 
 not do, considering the matter with strict 
 regard to fact. She generally possessed 
 herself of the baby, and if I wished its com- 
 pany I was obliged to intrude myself upon 
 her. The plan I now adopted was, I think, 
 somewhat ingenious. As is my wont, I en- 
 deavoured to shape to my advantage this ob- 
 stacle which I now found in my way. My 
 intercourse with Francesca had not been 
 altogether satisfactory. For one thing, there 
 had been too much unity about it. A certain 
 degree of this was, indeed, desirable, but I 
 was obliged to be, at once, not only husband 
 and lover, but lady also ; for Francesca gave 
 me no help in this regard, except, perchance, 
 an occasional look of entreaty, which might 
 as well mean that she would like a bottle of 
 milk as that she yearned for fond communion 
 of the soul. When I addressed her as my 
 developed ideal I imagined her answers, and 
 so continued the gentle conversation ; but, 
 although she always spoke as I would wish, 
 there were absent from our converse certain 
 desirable elements which might have been 
 looked for from the presence of a second 
 intellect. Another source of dissatisfaction 
 was that in many of our interviews Fran- 
 cesca acted in a manner which was not only
 
 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 219 
 
 disturbing, but indecorous. Frequently, 
 when I was speaking with her on such sub- 
 jects as foreign travel, when we two would 
 wander amid the misty purples of Caprian 
 sunsets, or stand together in vast palaces of 
 hoarded art, she would struggle so convul- 
 sively, and throw upward with such violence 
 her small blue socks, that, for the time, I 
 wished she was swaddled and bound in the 
 manner of the Delia Robbia babies on the 
 front of the Foundling Asylum in Florence. 
 A plan of relieving myself from the obvi- 
 ous disadvantages of my present method of 
 intercourse with an intellect, a soul, and a 
 person, which to be suitable for my com- 
 panionship must necessarily be projected 
 into the future, now suggested itself to me. 
 If Miss Watridge persisted in forcing herself 
 upon Francesca, she might at least make 
 herself useful by taking the place of that 
 young person so far as regarded a part in 
 the conversation. Her entity occupied a 
 position in respect to growth and develop- 
 ment which was about the same as that to 
 which I was in the habit of projecting Fran- 
 cesca. Her answers to my remarks would 
 be analogous, if not similar, to those which 
 might be expected from the baby when she 
 arrived at maturity. Thus, in a manner, I
 
 220 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 
 
 could talk to Francesca, and receive her 
 answers from the lips of Miss Kitty. This 
 would be as truly love-making by proxy as 
 when the too believing Lanciotto sent from 
 Rimini his younger brother to bear to him 
 Ravenna's pearl. But here was no guile, no 
 dishonesty ; the messenger, the vehicle, the 
 interpreter, in this case, knew nothing of 
 the feelings now in action, or to be set in 
 action, of the principals in the affair. She 
 did not know, indeed, that there were two 
 principals. As far as she herself was con- 
 cerned, she had, and could have, no inter- 
 est in the matter. She was engaged to be 
 married to Mr. Glade, which, in my eyes, 
 was the same thing as being already married 
 to him ; and any thoughts or mental emo- 
 tions that she might have relating to affec- 
 tionate interest in one of the opposite sex 
 would of course be centred in Mr. Glade. 
 With Francesca and myself she would have 
 nothing to do but unconsciously to assist 
 in the transmission of sentiment. Had 
 Paolo been engaged to marry a suitable 
 young person before he started for Ravenna, 
 it is probable that the limited partnership 
 which Dante noticed in the Inferno would 
 never have been formed. 
 
 It was by slow degrees, and with a good
 
 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 22 1 
 
 deal of caution, that I began my new course 
 of action. Taking the child in my arms, I 
 invited Miss Watridge to accompany us in 
 our walk. Thus, together, we slowly strolled 
 along the garden avenue, shaded by the fresh 
 greenness of June foliage, and flecked here 
 and there by patches of sunlight, which 
 moved upon the gravel in unison with the 
 gentle breeze. Our conversation, at first 
 relating to simple and everyday matters, 
 was soon directed by me into a channel in 
 which I could perceive whether or not I 
 should succeed in this project of representa- 
 tive rejoinder. It was not long before I was 
 pleased to discover that the mind of the 
 young lady was of as good natural quality 
 and as well cultivated as I had formerly sup- 
 posed it to be ; having then little upon which 
 to base my judgment, except the general im- 
 pression which her personality had made upon 
 me. That impression having been entirely 
 effaced, I was enabled with clearer vision and 
 sounder judgment to determine the value of 
 her mental exhibit. I found that she had 
 read with some discrimination, and with a 
 tendency to independent thought she united 
 a becoming respect for the opinions of those 
 who, by reason of superior years, experience, 
 and sex, might be supposed to move on a
 
 222 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 
 
 psychological plane somewhat higher than 
 her own. These were dispositions the de- 
 velopment of which I hoped to assist in the 
 young Francesca, and it may be imagined 
 that I was much gratified to find my model 
 so closely resembling that personality which 
 I wished, in a manner, to create. 
 
 Thus, up and down, daily, would we stroll 
 and talk. With the real Francesca on my 
 arm, sometimes sleeping, and sometimes in- 
 dulging in disturbing muscular exercises, 
 which I gently endeavoured to restrain, I 
 addressed myself to my ideal Francesca, an 
 aerial maiden, garbed in simple robes of 
 white touched by a soft suggestion of Italian 
 glow, and ever with tender eyes upturned 
 to mine ; while from her proxy, walking by 
 my side, came to me the thoughts and senti- 
 ments of her fresh young heart. 
 
 It was quite natural that I should be more 
 interested in a conversation of this kind than 
 in one in which I was obliged to supply the 
 remarks on either side. To be sure, in the 
 latter case there was a unison of thought 
 between myself and the ideal Francesca that 
 was very satisfactory, but which lacked the 
 piquancy given by unexpectedness of reply 
 and the interest consequent upon gentle 
 argument.
 
 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 223 
 
 It so happened that the morning occupa- 
 tions of Mrs. Wiltby and my sisters were 
 those in which Miss Watridge did not care 
 to join, and thus she was commonly left 
 free to make one of the company of four 
 which took its morning walks upon the 
 garden avenue. I imagined that she sup- 
 posed it was generally thought that she was 
 taking care of the baby and affording it ad- 
 vantages of outdoor air, in the performance 
 of which pleasing duty my presence was so 
 unnecessary that the probability of it was 
 not even considered. Thus it was that 
 upon every fair day and all those days 
 were fair our morning strolls were pro- 
 longed for an hour or more, generally ter- 
 minated only by the culminating resolve of 
 Francesca to attract to herself so much at- 
 tention that a return to the house was neces- 
 sary. It may be supposed that it would 
 have been better to have eliminated the 
 element of the actual being from the female 
 side of our little company. But that side, 
 several as it was in its component person- 
 ages, represented to me the one Francesca ; 
 and had I not held and felt the presence of 
 the actual living creature, who was to be 
 and to say all that my mind saw and my 
 ear heard, I could not have spoken as I
 
 224 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE, 
 
 wished to speak to the ideality who was to 
 be my wife when it became a reality. The 
 conjunction seemed to me a perfect one, and 
 under the circumstances I could wish for 
 nothing better. 
 
 As our acquaintance ripened and mellowed 
 in the pleasant summer days, I was enabled 
 to see more clearly into the soul and heart of 
 the Francesca that was to be, looking at them 
 through the transparent mind of Miss Kitty 
 Watridge. According to the pursuance of 
 my plan, I gradually, and as far as possible 
 imperceptibly, changed the nature of our 
 converse. From talking of the material 
 world, and those objects in it which had 
 pleased our vision or excited reflection, we 
 passed to the consideration, very cursory at 
 first, of those sentiments which appear to 
 emanate from ourselves without the aid of 
 extraneous agency. Then, by slow degrees, 
 the extraneous agency was allowed to enter 
 upon the scene, coming in so quietly that at 
 first it was scarcely noticeable. The de- 
 pendence of man upon man was discussed, 
 not only for material good, but for intellec- 
 tual support and comfort. Then, following 
 a course not exactly in accordance with that 
 of nature, but which suited my purposes, 
 we spoke of social ties, of the friendships
 
 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 225 
 
 which spring up here and there from these ; 
 of the natural affections of the family ; and, 
 finally, the subject arising in consistent se- 
 quence, of that congruent intermental action 
 of the intellect of two persons, generally 
 male and female, who frequently, without 
 family ties of any kind and but little pre- 
 vious acquaintanceship, find, each in the 
 other, an adaptiveness of entity which is 
 mutually satisfactory. 
 
 The vicarious replies of Francesca were, 
 in almost every instance, all that I could 
 have wished. Sometimes there were symp- 
 toms of hesitancy or reluctance in the enun- 
 ciation of what was, obviously, the suitable 
 reply to some of my remarks in regard to 
 the deeper sentiments ; but, on the whole, 
 had the ideal lady of my love spoken to me, 
 her words could not have better aroused my 
 every sentiment of warm regard. 
 
 Sometimes I wondered, as thus we walked 
 and talked, what Mr. Glade would think 
 about it if he could see us so much together, 
 and listen to our converse. But this thought 
 I put aside as unworthy of me. It was an 
 insult to myself as an honourable man ; it 
 was an uncalled-for aspersion on Miss Wat- 
 ridge, and a stain upon my idealistic inter- 
 course with Francesca. If Mr. Glade was
 
 226 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 
 
 coarse and vulgar enough to interject his 
 personality into this perfectly working sys- 
 tem of intellectual action, from which the 
 individuality of Miss Watridge was entirely 
 eliminated, her part in it being merely to 
 represent another, I could not help it. It 
 was this consciousness of rectitude, this 
 probity of purpose, which raised our little 
 drama so far above the level of the old story 
 of the wedded Guelph and Ghibelline. 
 
 With my mind satisfied on this subject, I 
 did not hesitate, when the proper time 
 seemed to have arrived, to allow myself to 
 imagine Francesca at the age of nineteen. 
 I could not much longer remain in this 
 place, as we had now overstayed the origi- 
 nal limit of our visit ; and there was danger, 
 too, that Miss Watridge might be called 
 away. I wished, while the opportunity 
 continued, to develop the imaginary life of 
 Francesca into perfect womanhood, so that 
 I could carry away with me an image of my 
 future wife, which I could set upon the 
 throne of my affection, there to be revered, 
 cherished, and guarded, until the time came 
 when the real Francesca should claim the 
 seat. Of course, under these circumstances, 
 a certain fervour of thought and expression 
 was not only necessary, but excusable, and
 
 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 227 
 
 I did not scruple to allow it to myself. 
 Always with the real Francesca in my arms, 
 in order that even my own superconscien- 
 tiousness might not take me to task, I de- 
 livered my sentiments without drawing the 
 veil of precautionary expression over their 
 amatory significance. It was at this stage 
 of our intercourse that I asked Miss Wat- 
 ridge to allow me to call her Francesca ; for 
 it was only by so doing that I could fully 
 identify her voice with that of the visionary 
 creature who was now exciting the stirring 
 impulses of my heart. When she asked me 
 why I wished to call her by this name, I 
 could only tell her that it was for ideal pur- 
 poses ; and without making further inquiries, 
 she consented that I should use it for the 
 present. As it was only for the present 
 that I thought of so doing, this much of 
 acquiescence was sufficient, and I called her 
 by the name I loved. 
 
 The softly spoken, well-considered re- 
 plies, the gentle ejaculations, and the de- 
 mure but earnest attention which my speech 
 elicited well befitted the fairest vision of 
 pure young womanhood that my soul could 
 call before me. But, notwithstanding this, 
 there was something wanting. I longed for 
 the upturned eyes, ever fixed upon my own,
 
 228 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 
 
 of the Francesca of the stage. I longed for 
 the fair white hands clasped and trembling 
 as I spoke. I longed for that intensity of 
 soul-merge in which the loved one breathes 
 and lives only that she may hear the words 
 I speak, and watch the thoughts that 
 fashion in my face. Without all this I 
 could never take away with me the image 
 of the true Francesca. Without this there 
 would be wanting, in the fair conception, 
 that artistic roundness, that completeness of 
 outline and purpose, which would satisfy the 
 exigencies of my nature. I could not con- 
 sent to carry with me for years an ideal 
 existence, incomplete, imperfected, a statue 
 devoid of those last touches of the master 
 which make it seem to live. 
 
 Therefore I sought, with much earnest- 
 ness and fixity of intention, to call up the 
 last element needed to complete that lovely 
 creation which was to be my companion 
 through the years of waiting for the real 
 Francesca. It was a great comfort and sup- 
 port to me to reflect that I could do this 
 with such safety, with such unusual advan- 
 tages. I addressed myself to no being in 
 existence. Even the little creature on my 
 arm, who had fallen into a habit of dozing 
 when not noticed, and to whom belonged,
 
 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 229 
 
 in fact, my every gift and legacy of love, 
 was not of age to come into her fortune, 
 nor could her infantile mind be injured by 
 its contemplation. And as for Miss Wat- 
 ridge, she, as I continually repeated to 
 myself, was acting simply as the represen- 
 tative of another, and her real self was not 
 concerned in the little drama, in which she 
 did not even take a part ; merely assuming, 
 as in a rehearsal, a character which another 
 actor, not able then to be present, would 
 play in the actual performance. 
 
 It was the loveliest morning of all the 
 summer that I made my supreme effort. At 
 the very bottom of the garden was a little 
 arbour of honeysuckles. No crimson stage- 
 light shone in upon it, but the sunbeams 
 pushed their way here and there through the 
 screen of leaves, and brightened the interior 
 with points of light. It was a secluded spot, 
 to which I had never yet led my companions, 
 for the period had not before arrived for 
 such sequesterment. But now we sat down 
 here upon a little bench : I at one end, the 
 young Francesca on my knee, and Miss Wat- 
 ridge at my left. In the place where this 
 lady sat also sat the ideal Francesca, occu- 
 pying the same space, and endowed, for the 
 time, with the same form and features. It
 
 230 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 
 
 was to this being that I now adchessed my 
 fervid words ; low-burning, it is true, but 
 alive with all the heat and glow that pre- 
 cedes blaze. I told a tale ; not reading 
 from pages of mediaeval script the legend 
 of the love of Launcelot and Queen Guin- 
 evere, as does Paolo in the play, but relat- 
 ing a story which was a true one, for it was 
 my own. I spoke as I expected to speak 
 some day to the little creature on my knee. 
 Taking with my disengaged hand that of 
 the lady by my side, I said that which 
 raised a lovely countenance to mine, that 
 showed me the beauty of her upturned eyes; 
 and as I looked and spoke I felt that the 
 very pulses of her soul were throbbing in 
 accord with mine. Here was enacting in 
 very truth the scene I had viewed upon the 
 stage, and which so often since had risen 
 before my fancy. Possessed by the spirit 
 of this scene, carried onward by that same 
 tide of passional emotion the gradual rise 
 of which it had portrayed, I gave myself 
 up to its influences, and acted it out unto 
 its very culmination. I stooped, and, in 
 the words of the Arthurian legend, " I 
 kissed her full upon the mouth. " 
 
 Swift as the sudden fall of summer rain, 
 I felt the wild abandonment of clinging arms
 
 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 23! 
 
 about my neck, of tears upon my face that 
 were not mine, of words of love that I spoke 
 not; and it came to me like a flash that 
 she who clung to me, and around whom my 
 arm was passed, was Kitty "Watridge, and 
 not a visionary Ghibelline. 
 
 In the midst of my varying emotions I 
 clasped closer to me the real Francesca, 
 who thereupon gave vent to her feelings 
 by parting wide her toothless gums, and 
 filling the summer air with a long yell. 
 At this rude interruption, the arms fell 
 from my neck, and the face was quickly 
 withdrawn from mine. 
 
 Now came hurrying steps upon the gravel 
 walk, and my sister Bertha ran in upon us. 
 "What on earth are you doing to that 
 baby ? " she cried. She snatched the child 
 from me, and then stood astonished, gazing 
 first at me and then at Kitty, who had 
 started to her feet, with sparkling tears still 
 in her eyes and a sunset glow upon her 
 face. Without a word, the wicked Bertha 
 laughed a little laugh, and, folding the 
 child within her arms, she ran away. 
 
 I sat speechless for a moment, and then 
 I turned to Kitty ; but she, too, had gone, 
 having fled in another direction. I was left 
 alone : gone was the real Francesca ; gone
 
 232 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 
 
 was the fair ideal ; gone was Kitty. I stood 
 bewildered, and, in a manner, dazed. I felt 
 as if I had fallen from the fourteenth century 
 into the nineteenth, and that the shock had 
 hurt me. I felt, too, a sense of culpability, 
 as if I had been somewhere where I had no 
 right to be ; as if I had been a trespasser, a 
 poacher, an intruder upon the times or on 
 the rights of others. The fact that I was a 
 strictly honourable man, scorning perfidy in 
 its every form, made my feelings the more 
 poignant. A little reflection helped me to 
 understand it all. I had carried out my plan 
 so carefully, with such regard to its gradual 
 development, that by degrees Miss Watridge 
 had grown into the ideal Francesca, and had 
 to all intents and purposes gone back with 
 me into the Middle Ages, in order to better 
 portray my perfected ideal. The baby sit- 
 ting on my right knee, while a future stage 
 of her life was being personated by the lady 
 at my side, might belong to any age ; there 
 was nothing incongruous in her presence on 
 the scene. It was the entrance of my sister 
 Bertha that broke the spell, that shattered 
 the whole fabric I had so elaborately built. 
 She was of the present, of to-day, of the 
 exact second, in which she helped anything 
 to happen. An impersonation of the Now,
 
 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 233 
 
 her coming banished every idea of the Past 
 or Future. 
 
 Like an actor in a play, on whom his 
 everyday clothes and the broad light of 
 day have suddenly fallen, I walked slowly 
 to the house. Meeting my older sister, 
 Grace Anna, near the door, I took her 
 aside, and said to her, " When is Mr. 
 Glade expected here ? " 
 
 " What for?" she asked, with eyes di- 
 lated. 
 
 " To marry Kitty Watridge," said I. 
 
 "What do you mean?" exclaimed my 
 sister. "That match was broken off last 
 winter. " 
 
 It may well be supposed that, remember- 
 ing what Bertha had seen, and doubtless 
 imagined ; that remembering what Kitty 
 had done and said ; and recalling, too, how 
 I felt when she did it and said it, I resolved, 
 instead of waiting eighteen long years for 
 another, to accept as the Francesca of my 
 dreams, and as the veritable wife of my 
 actual existence, this dear girl, who was 
 able to represent at this very present the 
 every attribute and quality of my ideal 
 woman. 
 
 In the autumn we were married. Thus 
 my Fate, disclaiming my efforts to assist it,
 
 234 A STORY OF ASSISTED FATE. 
 
 no matter in what direction, rose dominant, 
 and, attending to my affairs in its own way, 
 gave me Kitty at last. 
 
 But I shall always feel sorry for the 
 baby.
 
 THE DISCOURAGER OF 
 HESITANCY.
 
 THE DISCOURAGER OF HESITANCY. 
 
 A CONTINUATION OF 
 ''THE LADY, OE THE TIGER?" 
 
 IT was nearly a year after the occurrence 
 of that event in the arena of the semi- 
 barbaric King known as the incident of the 
 lady or the tiger, that there came to the 
 palace of this monarch a deputation of five 
 strangers from a far country. These men, 
 of venerable and dignified aspect and de- 
 meanour, were received by a high officer 
 of the court, and to him they made known 
 their errand. 
 
 " Most noble officer," said the speaker of 
 the deputation, " it so happened that one of 
 our countrymen was present here, in your 
 capital city, on that momentous occasion 
 when a young man who had dared to aspire 
 to the hand of your King's daughter had 
 been placed in the arena, in the midst of the 
 assembled multitude, and ordered to open
 
 238 THE DISCOURAGER OF HESITANCY. 
 
 one of two doors, not knowing whether a 
 ferocious tiger would spring out upon him, 
 or a beauteous lady would advance, ready to 
 become his bride. Our fellow-citizen who 
 was then present was a man of super-sensi- 
 tive feelings, and at the moment when the 
 youth was about to open the door he was so 
 fearful lest he should behold a horrible spec- 
 tacle, that his nerves failed him, and he fled 
 precipitately from the arena, and mounting 
 his camel rode homeward as fast as he could 
 
 go- 
 
 " We were all very much interested in the 
 story which our countryman told us, and 
 we were extremely sorry that he did not 
 wait to see the end of the affair. We hoped, 
 however, that in a few weeks some traveller 
 from your city would come among us and 
 bring us further news ; but up to the day 
 when we left our country, no such traveller 
 had arrived. At last it was determined that 
 the only thing to be done was to send a 
 deputation to this country, and to ask the 
 question : ' Which came out of the open 
 door, the lady, or the tiger ? ' " 
 
 When the high officer had heard the 
 mission of this most respectable deputation, 
 he led the five strangers into an inner room, 
 where they were seated upon soft cushions,
 
 THE DISCOURAGER OF HESITANCY. 239 
 
 and where he ordered coffee, pipes, sherbet, 
 and other semi-barbaric refreshments to be 
 served to them ; then, taking his seat before 
 them, he thus addressed the visitors 
 
 " Most noble strangers, before answering 
 the question you have come so far to ask, I 
 will relate to you an incident which occurred 
 not very long after that to which you have 
 referred. It is well known in all regions 
 hereabouts that our great King is very fond 
 of the presence of beautiful women about his 
 court. All the ladies-in-waiting upon the 
 Queen and Royal Family are most lovely 
 maidens, brought here from every part of 
 the kingdom. The fame of this concourse 
 of beauty, unequalled in any other royal 
 court, has spread far and wide ; and had it 
 not been for the equally widespread fame of 
 the systems of impetuous justice adopted by 
 our King, many foreigners would doubtless 
 have visited our court. 
 
 " But not very long ago there arrived 
 here from a distant land a prince of distin- 
 guished appearance and undoubted rank. 
 To such an one, of course, a royal audience 
 was granted, and our King met him very 
 graciously, and begged him to make known 
 the object of his visit. Thereupon the 
 Prince informed his Royal Highness that,
 
 240 THE DISCOURAGER OF HESITANCY. 
 
 having heard of the superior beauty of the 
 ladies of his court, he had come to ask per- 
 mission to make one of them his wife. 
 
 "When our King heard this bold an- 
 nouncement, his face reddened, he turned 
 uneasily on his throne, and we were all in 
 dread lest some quick words of furious con- 
 demnation should leap from out his quiver- 
 ing lips. But by a mighty effort he con- 
 trolled himself ; and after a moment s silence 
 he turned to the Prince, and said : ' Your 
 request is granted. To-morrow at noon you 
 shall wed one of the fairest damsels of our 
 court. ' Then turning to his officers, he said : 
 'Give orders that everything be prepared 
 for a wedding in this palace at high noon 
 to-morrow. Convey this royal Prince to 
 suitable apartments. Send to him tailors, 
 boot-makers, hatters, jewellers, armourers ; 
 men of every craft, whose services he may 
 need. Whatever he asks, provide. And let 
 all be ready for the ceremony to-morrow. ' 
 
 "'But, your Majesty,' exclaimed the 
 Prince, ' before we make these preparations, 
 I would like ' 
 
 " 'Say no more ! ' roared the King. ' My 
 royal orders have been given, and nothing 
 more is needed to be said. You asked a 
 boon ; I granted it ; and I will hear no
 
 THE DISCOURAGER OF HESITANCY. 24! 
 
 more on the subject. Farewell, my Prince, 
 until to-morrow noon.' 
 
 "At this the King arose, ajid left the 
 audience chamber, while the Prince was 
 hurried away to the apartments selected for 
 him. And here came to him tailors, hat- 
 ters, jewellers, and every one who was 
 needed to fit him out in grand attire for the 
 wedding. But the mind of the Prince was 
 much troubled and perplexed. 
 
 " C I do not understand,' he said to his 
 attendants, ' this precipitancy of action. 
 When am I to see the ladies, that I may 
 choose among them? I wish opportunity, 
 not only to gaze upon their forms and faces, 
 but to become acquainted with their rela- 
 tive intellectual development. ' 
 
 "'We can tell you nothing,' was the 
 answer. 'What our King thinks right, 
 that will he do. And more than this we 
 know not.' 
 
 " ' His Majesty's notions seem to be very 
 peculiar,' said the Prince, ' and, so far as I 
 can see, they do not at all agree with 
 mine. ' 
 
 " At that moment an attendant whom 
 the Prince had not noticed before came and 
 stood beside him. This was a broad- 
 shouldered man of cheery aspect, who car- 
 
 B.K. Q
 
 242 THE DISCOURAGER OF HESITANCY. 
 
 ried, its hilt in his right hand, and its broad 
 back resting on his broad arm, an enormous 
 scimitar, the upturned edge of which was 
 keen and bright as any razor. Holding this 
 formidable weapon as tenderly as though it 
 had been a sleeping infant, this man drew 
 closer to the Prince and bowed. 
 
 "'Who are you?' exclaimed his High- 
 ness, starting back at the sight of the 
 frightful weapon. 
 
 "'I,' said the other, with a courteous 
 smile, 'am the Discourager of Hesitancy. 
 When our King makes his wishes known to 
 any one, a subject or visitor, whose disposi- 
 tion in some little points may be supposed 
 not to wholly coincide with that of his 
 Majesty, I am appointed to attend him 
 closely, that should he think of pausing in 
 the path of obedience to the royal will, he 
 may look at me, and proceed.' 
 
 "The Prince looked at him, and pro- 
 ceeded to be measured for a coat. 
 
 " The tailors and shoemakers and hatters 
 worked all night ; and the next morning, 
 when everything was ready, and the hour 
 of noon was drawing nigh, the Prince again 
 anxiously inquired of his attendants when 
 he might expect to be introduced to the 
 ladies.
 
 THE DISCOURAGER OF HESITANCY. 243 
 
 '"The King will attend to that,' they 
 said. ' We know nothing of the matter.' 
 
 ' ' ' Your Highness, ' said the Discourager 
 of Hesitancy, approaching with a courtly 
 bow, * will observe the excellent quality of 
 this edge.' And drawing a hair from his 
 head, he dropped it upon the upturned edge 
 of his scimitar, upon which it was cut in 
 two at the moment of touching. 
 
 " The Prince glanced and turned upon his 
 heel. 
 
 " Now came officers to conduct him to the 
 grand hall of the palace, in which the cere- 
 mony was to be performed. Here the 
 Prince found the King seated on the throne, 
 with his nobles, his courtiers, and his officers 
 standing about him in magnificent array. 
 The Prince was led to a position in front of 
 the King, to whom he made obeisance, and 
 then said 
 
 "'Your Majesty, before I proceed fur- 
 ther ' 
 
 " At this moment an attendant, who had 
 approached with a long scarf of delicate silk, 
 wound it about the lower part of the Prince's 
 face so quickly and adroitly that he was 
 obliged to cease speaking. Then, with 
 wonderful dexterity, the rest of the scarf 
 was wound around the Prince's head, so that
 
 244 THE DISCOURAGER OF HESITANCY. 
 
 he was completely blindfolded. Thereupon 
 the attendant quickly made openings in the 
 scarf over the mouth and ears, so that the 
 Prince might breathe and hear ; and fasten- 
 ing the ends of the scarf securely, he re- 
 tired. 
 
 " The first impulse of the Prince was to 
 snatch the silken folds from his head and 
 face ; but as he raised his hands to do so, 
 he heard beside him the voice of the Dis- 
 courager of Hesitancy, who gently whis- 
 pered : 'I am here, your Highness.' And, 
 with a shudder, the arms of the Prince fell 
 down by his side. 
 
 " Now before him he heard the voice of a 
 priest, who had begun the marriage service 
 in use in that semi-barbaric country. At 
 his side he could hear a delicate rustle, 
 which seemed to proceed from fabrics of soft 
 silk. Gently putting forth his hand, he 
 felt folds of such silk close beside him. 
 Then came the voice of the priest requesting 
 him to take the hand of the lady by his side ; 
 and reaching forth his right hand, the Prince 
 received within it another hand so small, so 
 soft, so delicately fashioned, and so delight- 
 ful to the touch, that a thrill went through 
 his being. Then, as was the custom of the 
 country, the priest first asked the lady
 
 THE DISCOURAGER OF HESITANCY. 245 
 
 would she have this man to be her husband. 
 To which the answer gently came in the 
 sweetest voice he ever heard : ' I will.' 
 
 " Then ran raptures rampant through the 
 Prince's blood. The touch, the tone, en- 
 chanted him. All the ladies of that court 
 were beautiful ; the Discourager was behind 
 him ; and through his parted scarf he boldly 
 answered : ' Yes, I will. ' 
 
 " Whereupon the priest pronounced them 
 man and wife. 
 
 " Now the Prince heard a bustle about 
 him ; the long scarf was rapidly unrolled 
 from his head ; and he turned, with a start, 
 to gaze upon his bride. To his utter amaze- 
 ment, there was no one there. He stood 
 alone. Unable on the instant to ask a 
 question or say a word, he gazed blankly 
 about him. 
 
 " Then the King arose from his throne, 
 and came down, and took him by the 
 hand. 
 
 " ' Where is my wife ?' gasped the Prince. 
 
 "'She is here,' said the King, leading 
 him to a curtained doorway at the side of 
 the hall. 
 
 " The curtains were drawn aside, and the 
 Prince, entering, found himself in a long 
 apartment, near the opposite wall of which
 
 246 THE DISCOURAGER OF HESITANCY. 
 
 stood a line of forty ladies, all dressed in 
 rich attire, and each one apparently more 
 beautiful than the rest. 
 
 " Waving his hand towards the line, the 
 King said to the Prince : * There is your 
 bride ! Approach, and lead her forth ! 
 But remember this : that if you attempt to 
 take away one of the unmarried damsels of 
 our court, your execution shall be instanta- 
 neous. Now, delay no longer. Step up and 
 take your bride.' 
 
 " The Prince, as in a dream, walked slowly 
 along the line of ladies, and then walked 
 slowly back again. Nothing could he see 
 about any one of them to indicate that she 
 was more of a bride than the others. Their 
 dresses were all similar ; they all blushed ; 
 they all looked up, and then looked down. 
 They all had charming little hands. Not 
 one spoke a word. Not one lifted a finger 
 to make a sign. It was evident that the 
 orders given them had been very strict. 
 
 " ' Why this delay ?' roared the King. 'If 
 I had been married this day to one so fair as 
 the lady who wedded you, I should not wait 
 one second to claim her.' 
 
 " The bewildered Prince walked again up 
 and down the line. At this time there was 
 a slight change in the countenances of two of
 
 THE DISCOURAGER OF HESITANCY. 247 
 
 the ladies. One of the fairest gently smiled 
 as he passed her. Another, just as beautiful, 
 slightly frowned. 
 
 " ' Now,' said the Prince to himself, ' I am 
 sure that it is one of those two ladies whom 
 I have married. But which ? One smiled. 
 And would not any woman smile when she 
 saw, in such a case, her husband coming 
 towards her ? But, then, were she not his 
 bride, would she not smile with satisfaction 
 to think he had not selected her, and that 
 she had not led him to an untimely doom ? 
 Then again, on the other hand, would not 
 any woman frown when she saw her hus- 
 band come towards her and fail to claim 
 her ? Would she not knit her lovely brows ? 
 And would she not inwardly say, " It is I ! 
 Don't you know it? Don't you feel it? 
 Come ! " But if this woman had not been 
 married, would she not frown when she saw 
 the man looking at her ? Would she not say 
 to herself, " Don't stop at me ! It is the 
 next but one. It is two ladies above. Go 
 on ! " And then again, the one who mar- 
 ried me did not see my face. Would she not 
 smile if she thought me comely ? While if 
 I wedded the one who frowned, could she 
 restrain her disapprobation if she did not 
 like me ? Smiles invite the approach of true
 
 248 THE DISCOURAGER OF HESITANCY. 
 
 love. A frown is a reproach to a tardy ad- 
 vance. A smile ' 
 
 " 'Now, hear me !' loudly cried the King. 
 ' In ten seconds, if you do not take the lady 
 we have given you, she, who has just been 
 made your bride, shall be your widow.' 
 
 " And, as the last word was uttered, 
 the Discourager of Hesitancy stepped close 
 behind the Prince, and whispered : ' I am 
 here ! ' 
 
 " Now the Prince could not hesitate an 
 instant ; and he stepped forward and took 
 one of the two ladies by the hand. 
 
 "Loud rang the bells ; loud cheered the 
 people ; and the King came forward to con- 
 gratulate the Prince. He had taken his 
 lawful bride. 
 
 " Now, then," said the high officer to the 
 deputation of five strangers from a far coun- 
 try, "When you can decide among your- 
 selves which lady the prince chose, the one 
 who smiled or the one who frowned, then 
 will I tell you which came out of the open 
 door, the lady or the tiger ! " 
 
 At the latest accounts the five strangers 
 had not yet decided.
 
 OUR STORY.
 
 OUR STORY. 
 I. 
 
 I BECAME acquainted with Miss Bessie 
 Vancouver at a reception given by an 
 eminent literary gentleman in New York. 
 The circumstances were a little peculiar. 
 Miss Vancouver and I had each written and 
 recently published a book ; and we were 
 introduced to each other as young authors 
 whose works had made us known to the 
 public, and who, consequently, should know 
 each other. The peculiarity of the situa- 
 tion lay in the fact that I had not read Miss 
 Vancouver's book, nor had she read mine. 
 Consequently, although each felt bound to 
 speak of the work of the other, neither of 
 us could do it except in the most general 
 and cautious way. I was quite sure that 
 her book was a novel, but that was all that 
 I knew about it, except that I had heard it 
 well spoken of ; but she supposed my book 
 was of a scientific character, whereas, in 
 reality, it also was a novel, although its 
 title did not indicate the fact. There was
 
 2$2 OUR STORY 
 
 therefore an air of restraint and stiffness 
 about our first interview which it might not 
 have had if we had frankly acknowledged 
 our shortcomings. But, as the general con- 
 versation led her to believe that she was the 
 only person in the room who had not read 
 my book, and me to believe that I was the 
 only one who had not read hers, we were 
 naturally loathe to confess the truth to each 
 other. 
 
 I next met Miss Vancouver in Paris, at 
 the house of a lady whose parlours are the 
 frequent rendezvous of Americans, especi- 
 ally those given to art or literature. This 
 time we met on different ground. I had 
 read her book and she mine ; and as soon 
 as we had shaken hands we began to talk 
 of each other's work, not as if it had been 
 the beginning of a new conversation, but 
 rather as the continuation of one broken off. 
 Each liked the book of the other extremely, 
 and we were free to say so. 
 
 "But I am not satisfied with my novel," 
 said Miss Vancouver. "There is too much 
 oneness about it ; by which I mean that it 
 is not diversified enough. It is all, or nearly 
 all, about two people, who, of course, have 
 but one object in life ; and it seems to me 
 now that their story might have been fin-
 
 ODE STORY= 253 
 
 ished a great deal sooner, though, of course, 
 in that case it would not have been long 
 enough to make a book." 
 
 To this I politely answered that I did not 
 agree with her, for the story was interesting 
 to the very end ; but, of course, if she had 
 put more characters into it, and they had 
 been as good in their way as those she 
 already had, the book would have been that 
 much the better. "As for me," I continued, 
 ' ' my trouble is entirely the other way. I 
 have no oneness whatever. My tendency 
 is much more to fifteen- or twenty-ness. I 
 carry a story a little way in one direction, 
 and then I stop and go off in another. It 
 is sometimes difficult to make it understood 
 why a character should have been brought 
 into the story at all ; and I have had a good 
 deal of trouble in making some of them do 
 something toward the end to show that they 
 are connected with the general plot." 
 
 She said she had noticed that there was 
 a wideness of scope in my book ; but what 
 she would have said further I do not know, 
 for our hostess now came down upon us and 
 carried off Miss Vancouver to introduce her 
 to an old lady who had successfully steered 
 about fifty barques across that sea on which 
 Miss Vancouver had just set out.
 
 254 OUR STOEY. 
 
 Our next meeting was in a town on the 
 Mediterranean, in the south of France. I had 
 secured board at a large pension there, and 
 was delighted to find that Miss Bessie Van- 
 couver and her mother were already inmates 
 of the house. As soon as I had the oppor- 
 tunity, I broached to her an idea which had 
 frequently possessed my mind since our con- 
 versation in Paris. I proposed that we 
 should write a story together, something 
 like Erckmann-Chatrian, or Mark Twain 
 and Mr. Warner in The Gilded Age. Since 
 she had too much unity of purpose and tra- 
 velled in too narrow a path, and I branched 
 off too much, and had too great a tendency 
 to variety, our styles, if properly blended, 
 would possess all the qualities needed in a 
 good story ; and there was no reason why we 
 should not, writing thus together, achieve a 
 success greater, perhaps, than either of us 
 could expect writing alone. I had thought 
 so much on this subject that I was able to 
 say a great deal, and to say it pretty well, 
 too, so far as I could judge. Miss Van- 
 couver listened with great attention, and 
 the more I said, the more the idea pleased 
 her. She said she would take the after- 
 noon to consider the matter ; and in the 
 evening she told me in the parlour that she
 
 OUR STORY. 255 
 
 had made up her mind, if I still thought 
 well of the plan, to assist me in writing a 
 story, this being the polite way in which 
 she chose to put it, but that she thought 
 it would be better for us to begin with a 
 short story, and not with a book, for in this 
 way we could sooner see how we would be 
 likely to succeed. Of course I agreed to 
 this proposition, and we arranged that we 
 should meet the next morning in the garden 
 and lay out a plan for our story. 
 
 The garden attached to the house in which 
 we lived was a very guaint and pleasant one. 
 It had been made a hundred years ago or 
 more by an Italian nobleman, whose man- 
 sion, now greatly altered, had become our 
 present pension. The garden was laid out 
 in a series of terraces on the side of a hill, 
 and abounded in walks shaded by orange 
 and lemon trees, arbours, and vine-covered 
 trellises ; fountains, half concealed by over- 
 hanging ivy ; and suddenly discovered stair- 
 ways, wide and shadowy, leading up into 
 regions of greater quaintness and seclusion. 
 Flowers were here, and palm-trees, and 
 great cactus-bushes, with their red fruit 
 half hollowed out by the nibbling birds. 
 From the upper terraces we could see the 
 blue Mediterranean spreading far away on
 
 256 OUR STORY. 
 
 one side, while the snow-covered tops of 
 the maritime Alps stood bright against the 
 sky. The garden was little frequented, and 
 altogether it was a good place in which to 
 plan a story. 
 
 We consulted together for several days 
 before we actually began to work. At first, 
 we sat in an arbour on one of the lower 
 terraces, where there were a little iron table 
 and some chairs ; but now and then a per- 
 son would come there for a morning stroll, 
 and so we moved up higher to a seat under 
 a palm-tree, and the next day to another 
 terrace, where there was a secluded corner 
 overshadowed by huge cacti. But the place 
 which suited us best of all was the top of 
 an old tower at one end of the garden. 
 This tower had been built many, many hun- 
 dred years before the garden was thought 
 of, and its broad, flat roof was level with 
 one of the higher terraces. Here we could 
 work and consult in quiet, with little fear 
 of being disturbed. 
 
 Not finding it easy to plan out the whole 
 story at once, we determined to begin by 
 preparing backgrounds. We concluded that 
 as this was to be a short story, it would be 
 sufficient to have descriptions of two natural 
 scenes in which the two principal incidents
 
 OUR STORY: 257 
 
 should occur ; and as we wished to do all 
 our work from natural models, we thought 
 it best to describe the scene which lay 
 around us, than which nothing could be 
 more beautiful or more suitable. One scene 
 was to be on the sea-shore, with a mellow 
 light upon the rippling waves, and the sails 
 of fishing-vessels in the distance. This 
 Miss Vancouver was to do, while I was to 
 take a scene among the hills and mountains 
 at the back of the town. I walked over 
 there one afternoon when Miss Vancouver 
 had gone out with her mother. I got on a 
 high point, and worked up a very satisfac- 
 tory description of the frowning mountains 
 behind me, the old monasteries on the hills, 
 and the town stretching out below, with a 
 little river rushing along between two rows 
 of picturesque washerwomen to the sea. 
 
 We read our backgrounds to each other, 
 and were both very well satisfied. Our 
 styles were as different as the scenes we de- 
 scribed. Hers was clear and smooth, and 
 mine forcible and somewhat abrupt, and 
 thus the strong points of each scene were 
 better brought out ; but, in order that our 
 styles might be unified, so to speak, by be- 
 ing judiciously blended, I suggested some 
 strong and effective points to be introduced
 
 258 OUR STORY. 
 
 into her description, while she toned down 
 some of my phrases, and added a word here 
 and there which gave a colour and beauty 
 to the description which it had not possessed 
 before. 
 
 Our backgrounds being thus satisfactory, 
 and it took a good deal of consultation to 
 make them so, our next work was to pro- 
 vide characters for the story. These were 
 to be drawn from life, for it would be per- 
 fectly ridiculous to create imaginary charac- 
 ters when there were so many original and 
 interesting personages around us. We soon 
 agreed upon an individual who would serve 
 as a model for our hero ; I forget whether 
 it was I or Miss Vancouver who first sug- 
 gested him. He was a young man, but not 
 so very young either, who lived in the house 
 with us, and about whom there was a mys- 
 tery. Nobody knew exactly who he was, 
 or where he came from, or why he was 
 here. It was evident he did not come for 
 society, for he kept very much to himself ; 
 and the attractions of the town could not 
 have brought him here, for he seemed to 
 care very little about them. We seldom 
 saw him except at the table and occasion- 
 ally in the garden. When we met him in 
 the latter place, he always seemed anxious
 
 OUR STORY. 259 
 
 to avoid observation ; and as we did not 
 wish to hurt his feelings by letting him 
 suppose that he was an object of curiosity 
 to us, we endeavoured, as far as possible, 
 to make it apparent that we were not look- 
 ing at him or thinking of him. But still, 
 whenever we had a good chance, we studied 
 him. Of course, we could not make out his 
 mystery, but that was not necessary, nor 
 did we, indeed, think it would be proper. 
 We could draw him as we saw him, and 
 then make the mystery what we pleased ; 
 its character depending a good deal upon 
 the plot we devised. 
 
 Miss Vancouver undertook to draw the 
 hero, and she went to work upon him im- 
 mediately. In personal appearance, she 
 altered the model a good deal. She dark- 
 ened his hair, and took off his whiskers, 
 leaving him only a moustache. She thought, 
 too, that he ought to be a little taller, and 
 asked me my height, which is five feet nine. 
 She considered that a very good height, and 
 brought the hero up to it. She also made 
 him some years younger, but endeavoured, 
 as far as seemed suitable to the story, to 
 draw him exactly as he was. 
 
 I was to do the heroine, but found it 
 very hard to choose a model. As I said be-
 
 260 OUR STORY. 
 
 fore, we determined to draw all our chai-ac- 
 ters from life, but I could think of no one, 
 in the somewhat extensive company by 
 which we were surrounded, who would 
 answer my purpose. Nor could I fix my 
 mind upon any person in other parts of the 
 world, whom I knew or had known, who 
 resembled the idea I had formed of our 
 heroine. After thinking this matter over a 
 good deal, I told Miss Vancouver that I be- 
 lieved the best thing I could do would be to 
 take her for my model. I was with her a 
 good deal, and thus could study out and 
 work up certain points as I wrote, which 
 would be a great advantage. She objected 
 to this, because, as she said, the author of a 
 story should not be drawn as its heroine. 
 But I asserted that this would not be the 
 case. She would merely suggest the heroine 
 to me, and I would so do my work that the 
 heroine would not suggest her to anybody 
 else. This, I thought, was the way in 
 which a model ought to be used. After we 
 had talked the subject over a good deal, she 
 agreed to my plan, and I went to work 
 with much satisfaction. I gave no definite 
 description of the lady, but endeavoured to 
 indicate the impression which her person 
 and character produced upon me. As such
 
 OUR STORY. 26l 
 
 impressions are seldom the same in any two 
 cases, there was no danger that my descrip- 
 tion could be referred back to her. 
 
 When I read to her the sketch I had 
 written, she objected to parts of it as not 
 being correct ; but as I asserted that it was 
 not intended as an exact copy of the model, 
 she could not say it was not a true picture ; 
 and so, with some slight modifications, we 
 let it stand. I thought myself that it was 
 a very good piece of work. To me it seemed 
 very lifelike and piquant, and I believed 
 that other people would think it so. 
 
 We were now ready for the incidents and 
 the plot, but at this point we were somewhat 
 interrupted by Mrs. Vancouver. She came 
 to me one morning, when I was waiting to 
 go with her daughter to our study in the 
 garden, and told me that she was very sorry 
 to notice that Miss Vancouver and I had 
 attracted attention to ourselves by being so 
 much together ; and, while she understood 
 the nature of the literary labour on which we 
 were engaged, she did not wish her daughter 
 to become the object of general attention 
 and remark in a foreign pension. I was very 
 angry when I heard that people had been 
 directing upon us their impertinent curiosity, 
 and I discoursed warmly upon the subject.
 
 262 OUB STORY. 
 
 " Where is the good," I said, " of a person 
 or persons devoting himself or themselves, 
 with enthusiasm and earnestness, to his or 
 their life-work, if he or they are to be inter- 
 fered with by the impertinent babble of the 
 multitude ? " 
 
 Mrs. Vancouver was not prepared to give 
 an exact answer to this question, but she 
 considered the babble of the multitude a 
 very serious thing. She had been talking 
 to her daughter on the subject, and thought 
 it right to speak to me. 
 
 That morning we worked separately in 
 our rooms, but we accomplished little or 
 nothing. It was, of course, impossible to do 
 anything of importance in a work of this 
 kind without consultation and co-operation. 
 The next day, however, I devised a plan 
 which would enable us, I thought, to pursue 
 our labours without attracting attention ; 
 and Mrs. Vancouver, who was a kind- 
 hearted woman, and took a great interest 
 in her daughter's literary career, told me if 
 I could successfully carry out anything of 
 the kind, I might do so. She did not in- 
 quire into particulars, nor did I explain them 
 to Miss Bessie ; but I told the latter that we 
 would not go out together into the garden, 
 but I would go first, and she should join me
 
 OUR STORY. 263 
 
 about ten minutes afterward on the tower ; 
 out she was not to come if she saw any one 
 dbout. 
 
 Near the top of the hill, above the garden, 
 once stood an ancient mansion, of which 
 nothing now remained but the remnants of 
 some massive masonry. A courtyard, how- 
 ever, of this old edifice was still surrounded 
 by a high wall, which formed the upper 
 boundary of our garden. From a point near 
 the tower a flight of twisting stone steps, 
 flanked by blank walls, which turned them- 
 selves in various directions to suit the angles 
 of the stairway, led to a green door in this 
 wall. Through this door Miss Vancouver 
 and myself, and doubtless many other per- 
 sons, had often wished to pass ; but it was 
 locked, and, on inquiry, we found that there 
 was no key to be had. The day previous, 
 however, when wandering by myself, I had 
 examined this door, and found that it was 
 fastened merely by a snap-lock which had 
 no handle, but was opened by a key. I had 
 a knife with a long, strong blade, and push- 
 ing this into the hasp, I easily forced back 
 the bolt. I then opened the door and walked 
 into the old courtyard. 
 
 When Miss Vancouver appeared on the 
 tower, I was standing at the top of the
 
 264 OUR STORY. 
 
 stone steps just mentioned, with the green 
 door slightly ajar. Calling to her in a low 
 tone, she ran up the steps, and, to her 
 amazement, I ushered her into the court- 
 yard and closed the door behind us. 
 
 " There," I exultingly exclaimed, *' is our 
 study, where we can write our story without 
 interruption. We will come and go away 
 separately ; the people of the pension will 
 not know that we are here or have been 
 here, and there will be no occasion for that 
 impertinent attention to which your mother 
 so properly objects." 
 
 Miss Vancouver was delighted, and we 
 walked about and surveyed the courtyard 
 with much satisfaction. I had already 
 selected the spot for our work. It was in 
 the shade of an olive-tree, the only tree in 
 the enclosure, beneath which there was a 
 rude seat. I spread a rug upon the grass, 
 and Miss Bessie sat upon the seat, and put 
 her feet upon the rug, leaving room for me 
 to sit thereon. We now took out our little 
 blank-books and our stylograph pens and 
 were ready for work. I explained that I 
 had done nothing the day before, and Miss 
 Vancouver said that had also been the case 
 with her. She had not wished to do any- 
 thing important without consultation ; but
 
 OUR STORY. 265 
 
 supposing that, of course, the hero was to 
 fall in love with the heroine, she thought 
 she might as well make him begin, but she 
 found she could not do it as she wished. 
 She wanted him to indicate to the lady that 
 he was in love with her without exactly 
 saying so. Could I not suggest some good 
 form for giving expression to this state of 
 things ? After a little reflection, I thought 
 I could. 
 
 " I will speak," said I, " as if I were the 
 hero, and then you can see how it will 
 suit." 
 
 "Yes," said she, "but you must not 
 forget that what you say should be very 
 gradual. " 
 
 I tried to be as gradual as I could, and to 
 indicate by slow degrees the state of mind 
 in which we wished our hero to be. As the 
 indication became stronger and stronger, I 
 thought it right to take Miss Vancouver's 
 hand ; but to this she objected, because, as 
 she said, it was more than indication, and 
 besides, it prevented her from writing down 
 what I said. We argued this point a little 
 while without altering our position, and I 
 asserted that the hand-holding only gave 
 point and earnestness to the hero's remarks, 
 which otherwise would not be so natural
 
 266 OUR STOKY. 
 
 and true to life ; and if she wanted to use 
 her right hand, her left hand would do to 
 hold. We made this change, and I pro- 
 ceeded with the hero's remarks. 
 
 There was in our pension a young German 
 girl named Margarita. She was a hand- 
 some, plump maiden, and spoke English 
 very well. There was another young lady, 
 also a German, named Gretzel. She was a 
 little creature, and the fast friend of Marga- 
 rita. These two had a companion whose 
 name I did not know. She was a little 
 older than the others, and was, I think, a 
 Pole. She also understood English. As I 
 was warming up toward the peroration of 
 our hero's indication, I raised my eyes, and 
 saw, on the brow of the hill, not a stone's- 
 throw from us, these three girls. They 
 were talking earnestly and walking directly 
 toward us. The place where they were was 
 used as a public pleasure-ground, and was 
 separated from the old courtyard by a pale- 
 fence. Although the girls could not come 
 to us, there was nothing to prevent their 
 seeing us if they chose to look our way, for 
 they were on ground which was higher than 
 the top of the fence. 
 
 When I saw these girls, I was horror- 
 stricken, and my knees, on which I rested,
 
 OUR STORY. 267 
 
 trembled beneath me. I did not dare to 
 rise, nor to change my position, for fear the 
 motion should attract attention ; nor did I 
 cease my remarks, for had I suddenly done 
 so, my companion would have looked around 
 to see what was the matter, and would cer- 
 tainly have jumped up, or have done some- 
 thing which would have brought the eyes of 
 those girls upon us ; but my voice dropped 
 very low, and I wondered if there was any- 
 way of my gently rolling out of sight. 
 
 But at this moment our young man with a 
 mystery suddenly appeared on the other side 
 of the fence, walking rapidly toward the 
 girls. There was something on the ocean, 
 probably a ship, to which he directed their 
 attention ; and then he actually led them off, 
 pointing, as it appeared, to a spot from 
 which the distant object could be more 
 plainly seen. They all walked away and 
 disappeared behind the brow of the hill. 
 With a great feeling of relief, I arose and 
 recounted what had happened. Miss Van- 
 couver sprang to her feet, shut up her 
 blank-book, and put the stopper on her 
 stylograph. 
 
 " This place will not do at all to work in," 
 she said. " I will not have those girls star- 
 ing at us."
 
 268 OUR STORY. 
 
 I was obliged to admit that this particular 
 spot would not do. I had not thought of 
 any one walking in the grounds immediately 
 above us, especially in the morning, which 
 was our working time. 
 
 "They may return," she said, "and we 
 must go away immediately and separately." 
 
 But I could not agree thus to give up our 
 new-found study. The enclosure was quite 
 extensive, with ruins at the other end, near 
 which we might find some spot entirely pro- 
 tected from observation. So I went to look 
 for such a place, leaving Miss Vancouver 
 under the olive-tree, where, if she were seen 
 alone, it would not matter. I found a spot 
 which might answer, and, returning to the 
 tree, sent her to look at it. While we were 
 thus, engaged, we heard the report of the 
 noon cannon. This startled us both. The 
 hour for dejeuner a la fourchette at the pension 
 was twelve o'clock, and people were gener- 
 ally very prompt at that meal. It would 
 not do for us to be late. Snatching up our 
 effects, we hurried to the green door, but 
 when I tried to open it as before, I found it 
 impossible a projecting strip of wood on 
 the inside of the doorway preventing my 
 reaching the bolt with my knife-blade. I 
 tried to tear away the strip, but it was too
 
 OUR STORY. 269 
 
 firmly fastened. We both became very 
 nervous and troubled. It was impossible 
 to get out of the enclosure except through 
 that door, for the wall was quite high and 
 the top covered with broken glass embedded 
 in the mortar. The party on the hill had 
 had time to go down and around through 
 the town to the pension. Our places at the 
 table would be the only ones empty. What 
 could attract more attention than this ? And 
 what would Mrs. Vancouver think and say ? 
 At this moment we heard some one working 
 at the lock on the other side. The door 
 opened, and there stood our hero. 
 
 "I heard some one at this door," he said ; 
 "and supposing it had been accidentally 
 closed, I came up and opened it." 
 
 "Thank you; thank you very much!" 
 cried Miss Vancouver. 
 
 And away she ran to the house. If only 
 I were late, it did not matter at all. I fol- 
 lowed with our hero, and endeavoured to 
 make some explanation of the predicament 
 of myself and the young lady. He took it 
 all as a matter of course, as if the old court- 
 yard were a place of general resort. 
 
 "When persons stroll through that door," 
 he said, "they should put a piece of stick 
 or of stone against the jamb, so that if the
 
 270 OUR STORY. 
 
 door is blown shut by the wind the latch 
 may not catch. " 
 
 And then he called my attention to a 
 beautiful plant of the aloe kind which had 
 just begun to blossom. 
 
 Miss Vancouver reached the breakfast- 
 table in good time, but she told me afterward 
 she would work in the old courtyard no 
 more. The perils were too many. 
 
 For some days after this our story made 
 little progress, for opportunities for consulta- 
 tion did not occur. I was particularly sorry 
 for this, because I wanted very much to know 
 how Miss Vancouver liked my indicative 
 speech and what she had made of it. Early 
 one afternoon about this time our hero, 
 between whom and myself a slight acquaint- 
 ance had sprung up, came to me and said 
 
 " The sea is so perfectly smooth and quiet 
 to-day that I thought it would be pleasant 
 to take a row, and I have hired a boat. 
 How would you like to go with me ? " 
 
 I was pleased with his friendly proposi- 
 tion, and I am very fond of rowing ; but 
 yet I hesitated about accepting the invita- 
 tion, for I hoped that afternoon to find 
 some opportunity for consultation in regard 
 to the work on which I was engaged. 
 
 " The boat is rather large for two per-
 
 OUR STORY, 271 
 
 sons," he remarked. "Have you any 
 friends you would like to ask to go with 
 us?" 
 
 This put a different phase upon affairs. 
 I instantly said that I thought a row would 
 be charming that afternoon, and suggested 
 that Mrs. Vancouver and her daughtei 
 might like to take advantage of the oppor- 
 tunity. 
 
 The ladies were quite willing to go, and in 
 twenty minutes we set off, two fishermen in 
 red liberty caps pushing us from the pebbly 
 beach. Our hero took one oar and I .another, 
 and we pulled together very well. The 
 ladies sat in the stern, and enjoyed the 
 smooth sea and the lovely day. We rowed 
 across the little bay and around a high pro- 
 montory, where there was a larger bay with 
 a small town in the distance. The hero sug- 
 gested that we should land here, as we could 
 get some good views from the rocks. To 
 this we all agreed ; and when we had 
 climbed up a little distance, Mrs. Vancouver 
 found some wild-flowers which interested 
 her very much. She was, in a certain way, 
 a floraphobist, and took an especial delight 
 in finding in foreign countries blossoms 
 which were the same as or similar to flowers 
 she was familiar with in New England.
 
 272 OUR STORY. 
 
 Our hero had also a fancy for wild-flowers, 
 and it was not long before he showed Mrs. 
 Vancouver a little blossom which she was 
 very sure she had seen either at East 
 Gresham or Milton Centre. Leaving these 
 two to their floral researches, Miss Van- 
 couver and I climbed higher up the rocks, 
 where the view would be better. We found 
 a pleasant ledge ; and although we could 
 not see what was going on below us, and the 
 view was quite cut off in the direction of the 
 town, we had an admirable outlook over the 
 sea, on which, in the far distance, we could 
 see the sails of a little vessel. 
 
 " This will be an admirable place to do a 
 little work on our story," I said. "I have 
 brought my blank-book and stylograph. " 
 
 " And so have I," said she. 
 
 I then told her that I had been thinking 
 over the matter a good deal, and that I 
 believed in a short story two long speeches 
 would be enough for the hero to make, and 
 proposed that we should now go on with the 
 second one. She thought well of that, and 
 took a seat upon a rocky projection, while I 
 sat upon another quite near. 
 
 "This second speech," said I, "ought to 
 be more than indicative, and should express 
 the definite purpose of the hero's senti-
 
 OUR STORY. 273 
 
 ments ; and I think there should be corre- 
 sponding expressions from the heroine, and 
 would be glad to have you suggest such as 
 you think she would make." I then began 
 to say what I thought a hero ought to say 
 under the circumstances. I soon warmed 
 up to my task wonderfully, and expressed 
 with much earnestness and ardour the senti- 
 ments I thought proper for the occasion. I 
 first held one of Miss Vancouver's hands, 
 and then both of them, she trusting to her 
 memory in regard to memoranda. Her re- 
 marks in the character of the heroine were, 
 however, much briefer than mine, but they 
 were enough. If necessary, they could be 
 worked up and amplified. I think we had 
 said all or nearly all there was to say when 
 we heard a shout from below. It was our 
 hero calling us. We could not see him, but 
 I knew his voice. He shouted again, and 
 then I arose from the rock on which Bessie 
 was sitting and answered him. He now 
 made his appearance some distance below 
 us, and said that Mrs. Vancouver did not 
 care to come up any higher to get the views, 
 and that she thought it would be better 
 to reach home before the sun should set. 
 
 That evening, in the salon, Bessie spoke
 
 2/4 OUR STORY. 
 
 to me apart. "Our hero," she said, "is 
 more than a hero ; he is a guardian angel. 
 You must fathom his mystery. I am sure 
 that it is far better than anything we can 
 invent for him." 
 
 I set myself to work to discover, if pos- 
 sible, not only the mystery which had first 
 interested us in our hero, but also the reason 
 and purpose of his guardian-angelship. 
 He was an American, and now that I had 
 come to know him better, I found him a 
 very agreeable talker.
 
 275 
 
 IL 
 
 Our hero was the first person whom I told 
 of my engagement to Bessie. Mrs. Van- 
 couver was very particular that this state of 
 affairs should be made known. " If you are 
 engaged," she said, "of course you can be 
 together as much as you please. It is the 
 custom in America, and nobody need make 
 any remarks." 
 
 In talking to our hero, I told him of a 
 good many little things that had happened 
 at various times, and endeavoured by these 
 friendly confidences to make him speak of 
 his own affairs. It must not be supposed 
 that I was actuated by prying curiosity, but 
 certainly I had a right to know something 
 of a person to whom I had told so much ; 
 but he always seemed a great deal more in- 
 terested in us than in himself, and I took so 
 much interest in his interest, which was 
 very kindly expressed, that his affairs never 
 came into our conversation. 
 
 But just as he was going away, he left
 
 276 OUR STORY. 
 
 the little town a few days before we did, 
 he told me that he was a writer, and that 
 for some time past he had been engaged 
 upon a story. 
 
 Our story was never finished. His was. 
 This is it. 
 
 T. AND A. CONSTABLE, PRINTERS TO HKIt MAJESTV.
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
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