NEW ENGLAND LIFE. 
 
 CENTURY OF GOSSIP 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE REAL AND THE SEEMING. 
 
 BY WILLAKD G. NASH. 
 
 CHICAGO: 
 W. B. KEEN, COOKE & CO. 
 
 1876. 
 
COPYRIGHT. 
 
 A. D. 1876. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 UNCLE HENRY 5 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 DEACON WELLS 22 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 BESSIE JONES 45 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 THE GOSSIPS AND OTHERS 70 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 JAMES WELLS 93 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 THE FORGERY 124 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 IN THE SHOE SHOP 150 
 
 CHAPTER VIII- 
 RETRIBUTION _ 179 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 THE ABUSE OP THE PARDONING POWER 200 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 DIVORCED 217 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 GEORGE WELLS _ 232 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 ODDS AND ENDS 268 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 HEELING AND TOEING .300 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 AT HOME .._,.. ..313 
 
 M11973 
 
EJVITURY of 
 
 1 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 UNCLE HENRY. 
 
 O New England village is complete with 
 out a shoe shop. It is the place of resort 
 for old and young; the "home," where 
 male gossips love to congregate in the evening 
 and pass around the tit-bits of scandal that have 
 been gathered during the day. Bits of scandal 
 never grow less by being passed around in a 
 shoe shop; and in this respect scandal is unlike 
 a plug of tobacco, though both are pernicious. 
 There are in New England many noble men 
 whose homes are brightened and gladdened by 
 that gentle and refining influence that a good 
 man never fails to exert; men who not cursed 
 by lands or gold are rich in all that makes life 
 (5) 
 
6 A Cehtury of Gossip. 
 
 desirable; but they do not spend their evenings 
 in a shoe shop. They regard life as too short to 
 be frittered away in worse than idle talk, too 
 precious to be spent in retailing scandal; and 
 yet one sometimes hears good things in a shoe 
 shop. Among the mass of chaff a few grains of 
 wheat are found. 
 
 The shoe shop at Elton village is a venerable 
 structure that has withstood the storms of many 
 seasons. Whether it was built immediately 
 before, or after, the Declaration of Independence 
 was signed, is still an open question, which is 
 discussed with a great deal of animation on each 
 recurring Fourth of July. Uncle Henry, the 
 proprietor, stoutly maintains that it was built by 
 the red men, early in the eighteenth century, and 
 that its red front had grown gray with age when 
 he first entered it, sixty years ago. The reader 
 may regard Uncle Henry s story as an old man s 
 dream, but, in this locality, his veracity is un 
 doubted. Men seldom lie without a motive, and 
 there is nothing to induce Uncle Henry to lie 
 about so simple a thing as the age of his little 
 weather-beaten shoe shop; therefore, the writer 
 believes that it was built by the Indians, and 
 
Uncle Henry. J 
 
 has been the popular resort for Elton gossips for 
 more than a hundred years. 
 
 A hundred years! How many hearts have 
 bled in consequence of innuendoes born and nur 
 tured within those walls, and sent forth on their 
 errand of death. To-day, as a hundred years 
 ago, the shaft of malice seeks its victim with 
 unerring flight, blights like the deadly upas, and 
 consigns the innocent to an unhonored grave. 
 
 A hundred years! And the little shoe shop 
 remains unchanged, save that wide maple boards 
 have taken the place of the puncheon floor, and 
 the little sapling at the northeast corner has 
 grown to a stately elm, where the robin builds 
 her nest in the early spring time. It is well for 
 the mother bird that her brood cannot under 
 stand a word of the scandal that poisons the air 
 they breathe. 
 
 Uncle Henry is not a scandal monger, and sel 
 dom participates even in the less harmful gossip 
 to which he is nightly compelled to listen. Why 
 don t he stop it? Simply because all New 
 England villagers recognize the right of the 
 gossips to congregate at the shoe shop. Can 
 a strong-minded woman suppress the sewing 
 
8 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 circle? Can the President of the United States 
 abolish the writ of habeas corpus? The respon 
 sibility would be light compared with an 
 attempt to exclude the gossips from a shoe 
 shop in a small village. Uncle Henry works on 
 his farm four months of the year a genuine 
 Coast-of-Maine farm, the products of which give 
 little trouble to the tax assessor; they are all 
 summed up under the two headings, " Tons of 
 Hay," and "Bushels of Potatoes." True, the 
 crop might be cultivated and gathered in four 
 weeks, but Uncle Henry is a philosopher. He 
 profits by the teachings of " Farming Made 
 Easy," and maintains that "the harder a man 
 works on a Coast-of-Maine farm the worse he is 
 off." His stock consists of a horse, two cows, a 
 yearling calf, and a pig, and he is content to 
 work four months on the farm to get them hay 
 and potatoes, and the rest of the time in the 
 shop, to provide meal for their sustenance; and, 
 in this respect, he is not unlike other farmers in 
 this locality, who labor eight months of the year 
 in the ship yards, or elsewhere, in order that they 
 may " keep up the place." The old man is hon 
 est, frugal, and strictly orthodox, adhering to the 
 
Uncle Henry. 9 
 
 teachings of his ancestors, and having " no faith 
 in these new-fangled ways of crimping boots or 
 getting to Heaven," regarding both as devices 
 of the devil one to rob men of their money, 
 and the other to cheat them of their souls. 
 Crimping machines, liberal theology, and oak- 
 tanned sole leather, comprise the list of his 
 abominations. He will not place his soul in 
 jeopardy by putting an oak-tanned sole on a 
 stoga boot; and there is something that borders 
 on the sublime in his devotion to the Baptist 
 creed and hemlock tan. His father believed in 
 the efficacy of cold water and hemlock bark, and 
 why should the son reject the creed of the 
 father? Who shall say that in this he has not 
 chosen the wiser part? In view of the liberal 
 ism of the nineteenth century which verges 
 on unbridled license is it not well to ingraft a 
 little of the faith of our fathers into the theo 
 logical tree? Its growth may be retarded, yet it 
 will bear better fruit. But the " liberalism " of 
 the nineteenth century is not confined to the 
 ology. Appropriating to our own use the 
 property of another is simply a u little irregu 
 larity," and downright, old-fashioned stealing is 
 
io A Century of Gossip. 
 
 "embezzling." The murderer goes unwhipped 
 of justice, because modern science, stimulated 
 by liberalism, pronounces him temporarily 
 insane. The man who steals a sheep has 
 " engaged in the mutton business," and a 
 gambler is a dealer in pasteboard and ivorj r . 
 The government official whose accounts show a 
 deficit of a few thousand dollars, merely "got 
 the best of Uncle Sam in that little financial 
 transaction." Under the magnifying influence 
 of our unbounded liberalism, the quack succeeds 
 the educated physician, and brass commands a 
 premium while brains are discounted. 
 
 Liberalism is demoralizing political parties. 
 The wise men, to whom we looked for counsel 
 and advice, have been superseded by self-consti 
 tuted leaders, who have not learned the alphabet 
 of political economy. Under their management 
 party conventions are not deliberative bodies; 
 they are simply the meetings of the mob to 
 reward unlimited cheek and ignore worth and 
 merit. It will be well for the people when they 
 learn to distinguish between the real and the 
 seeming, and open their eyes to the impractica 
 bility of stocking a tan-yard with a shoe-string. 
 
Uncle Henry. 1 1 
 
 These new ideas about religious, political, and 
 social life are not " fellowshipped " by Uncle 
 Henry. He does not believe in "ideas." He 
 knows how to do honest work, understands the 
 multiplication table, and is familiar with the 
 writings of St. Paul ; but he never tried to 
 fathom the mystery of the Credit Mobilier, or 
 solve the financial problem. His theory is, that 
 a shoemaker should stick to his last, and it will 
 last him all his life. His shop contains two 
 shoe benches, a chair, a stove and two long seats 
 placed at the sides, for the accommodation of 
 numerous visitors. He locks his shop ; not 
 because it contains articles of value, but he 
 do n t want to apologize for the absence of such 
 articles if a thief should happen to break in. 
 Men dislike to apologize. A fop will step on 
 the trail of a lady s dress and make what he is 
 pleased to term a graceful apology, but a true 
 man always regrets the necessity, and performs 
 the unpleasant task much as a schoolboy submits 
 to his first flogging from a sense of duty. 
 
 "A fine evening, Uncle Henry." And Philip, 
 the philosopher, sat down on the vacant chair, 
 stretched his long legs under the high stove, 
 
12 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 took in a bountiful supply of the Virginia weed, 
 and prepared to enjoy a quiet evening with the 
 venerable shoemaker. It was a bitter cold night, 
 and Philip " calculated " that the gossips would 
 not venture out. Our philosopher does not like 
 the gossips. " If you can t speak well of a man, 
 hold your tongue," is his motto, and it would be 
 well if the world would adopt it. Philip is con 
 tent to enjoy the world as he found it, knowing 
 full well that he cannot reform even so small a 
 part of it as Elton village. Armed with a clay 
 pipe, a plug of tobacco, a card of matches, and 
 his old flint-lock rifle, he can spend a day in the 
 woods wholly unmindful of the supply of wood 
 at home. The dream of a genuine philosopher 
 is never disturbed by the size of the wood pile, 
 or the condition of the flour barrel. Philip is a 
 patient and persistent hunter, but he never gets 
 any game, except an occasional game of whist 
 won at a sitting with the village parson, who has 
 not outgrown a fondness for that branch of his 
 schoolboy studies. Our philosopher is too kind- 
 hearted to kill anything. He " drew bead " on 
 a fine doe, last fall, when her fawn came up, and 
 he lowered his gun, with the remark, " I can t 
 
Uncle Henry. 13 
 
 make an orphan of that beautiful fawn; I ll go 
 without venison first." As the mother deer 
 bounded away, accompanied by her graceful 
 lawn, a robin sang a sweet carol, which went 
 straight to Philip s heart, and he thanked God 
 that he had not disturbed the winged blessing 
 by an ill-timed shot. 
 
 "A fine evening, Uncle Henry, but it will 
 rain to-morrow." 
 
 " How do you know? " 
 
 " The water bubbles up through the ice on the 
 ponds. A sure sign of rain." 
 
 " Your sign will fail this time, Philip. T is 
 too cold to rain." 
 
 " I know it is cold. As the tide ebbed to-day, 
 the ice in the river creaked and sounded colder 
 than anything I ever heard, except a hypocrite s 
 prayer, but it will rain for all that. The weather 
 changes this winter quicker than a politician 
 can change his tactics." 
 
 " Does the prayer of a hypocrite sound so very 
 cold to you ? " 
 
 "Yes, sort o coolish, Uncle Henry. There, is 
 no heart in a hypocrite s prayer. When my Joe 
 runs away from school, and lies to me about it, 
 
14 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 his voice almost freezes me; and when I hear a 
 hypocrite pray, it always reminds me of Joe s 
 lies, and I want to get near the fire." 
 
 "If I didn t know your habits so well, I 
 should guess that you had been up on the hill, 
 listening to one of Deacon "Wells prayers. 
 Your description is complete." 
 
 " I never heard the Deacon pray. All I know 
 about him is what I hear from the boys in here, 
 and taint always safe to bet on the boys, you 
 know." 
 
 " Not always, Philip, but boys form wonder 
 fully correct opinions about men, and they 
 generally speak the truth." 
 
 "Yes; though they are quite apt to jump at 
 conclusions." 
 
 " While men hesitate, ponder, and get lost in 
 the fog." 
 
 " Is n t it well to * hesitate and ponder before 
 passing judgment on a man s character? The 
 great want of the age is a want of charity. We 
 judge men harshly, magnifying the evil and 
 losing sight of the good that is in them. While 
 men do not hesitate and ponder as much as 
 they should, boys form their opinions of char- 
 
Uncle Henry. 15 
 
 acter, as of everything else, from impulse, and 
 don t reason at all; so, taint always safe to bet 
 on the boys." 
 
 " I d sooner risk a boy s instinct than a man s 
 reason, on the question of character. The 
 Almighty writes a plain hand, and boys read 
 it more readily than men." 
 
 " What has God written on the face of Dea 
 con Wells, that you should pronounce him a 
 hypocrite ? " 
 
 "What has he not written there? His little 
 sunken, snake-like eyes, thin lips, low forehead, 
 and sharp chin, all bear evidence of his cold- 
 heartedness, and a cold-hearted man can t be a 
 Christian." 
 
 "Parson Green has small, sunken eyes, thin 
 lips, and a low forehead. Is he a hypocrite? " 
 
 Here was a dilemma. Uncle Henry greatly 
 disliked Deacon Wells, who spent much of his 
 time in the shoe shop, and the old man never 
 detected his striking resemblance to Parson 
 Green. The Parson is a true Christian, kind, 
 liberal, and devoted to his people. For many 
 years he has ministered to the spiritual wants of 
 the parish. Philip and Uncle Henry echo the 
 
1 6 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 sentiments of all his people when they pro 
 nounce him " the best man on the coast of 
 Maine." His charity is unbounded. On his 
 first Sunday in Elton, his prayer that "all men 
 might be saved," startled a few of the old cast- 
 iron pillars of the church, and they " feared he 
 wan t sound on doctrinal pints," but he has 
 won them over, by his pure life and gentle 
 teachings, and they, long ago, ceased to look for 
 something to condemn in Parson Green. " Does 
 he believe in the orthodox hell?" That ques 
 tion, kind reader, can be answered only by the 
 Parson. He does not portray its horrors to the 
 young men of Elton in order to frighten them 
 into a pretended worship of the Divine Master. 
 He does not teach that cringing fear of hell will 
 fit a man for Heaven. He is content to teach 
 his people that " God is love," and dwell on His 
 protecting care, leaving others to whom the 
 task is congenial to tell of His vengeance and 
 His hate. He reads with pleasure and indorses 
 much of " Collier s Every-day Subjects in Sun 
 day Sermons," and thinks " Talmage s Abomi 
 nations " well named. Parson Green never 
 wears a long face, except on funeral occasions, 
 
Uncle Henry. 17 
 
 and then it requires all his self-control to keep 
 his facial muscles properly elongated. If the 
 deceased brother s soul is in Heaven, why should 
 the pastor look so sad about it? This question 
 always torments him at a funeral. He is a 
 sunnv Christian, who believes in scatter! n 2 sun- 
 
 " O 
 
 shine wherever he goes. He has taught the 
 fathers and mothers in Israel to look cheerful 
 instead of weeping when they relate their 
 " experience " at the monthly conference meet 
 ing. Under his genial influence, the young folks 
 have substituted " Charades " and " Authors " 
 for "Copenhagen" and "Chase the Squirrel." 
 The boys do not swear on the base-ball ground, 
 for our Parson is always there the best bat 
 among them. The young people love him, and 
 he gathers them into the fold. A prayer in the 
 village of Elton is not complete unless it con 
 cludes with " God bless our Parson Green." 
 Will not God bless him who so richly blesses 
 his fellow man? " For whosoever hath, to him 
 shall be given, and he shall have more abund 
 ance." It would be well for the morals of the 
 nation if every ward and village could boast of 
 a Parson Green. He does not attempt to plow 
 2 
 
1 8 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 the barren fields of narrow orthodoxy, nor does 
 he cultivate the noxious weeds of a dangerous 
 liberalism. JSTo man in the village has a warmer 
 friendship for the Parson than Uncle Henry, and 
 when Philip asked the question, the old man 
 drove the pegs with increased vigor for a 
 moment, and replied: 
 
 " Much as I dislike gossip, I can t refrain 
 from expressing my opinion of Deacon Wells. 
 It is sacrilege for you to mention the two in the 
 same breath. They have not the same expres 
 sion, by a long shot, and the Deacon s headpiece 
 do n t begin with the Parson s." 
 
 " No ; but their features are alike ; which 
 simply proves that we can t read God s hand 
 writing." 
 
 " Well, there s a good deal in it, Philip. Of 
 course there are exceptions to all rules. You 
 can t find a striped squirrel in every hollow 
 fence pole, but that is the place to look for 
 them." 
 
 " Yes ; and studying physiognomy is much 
 like hunting striped squirrels. It doesn t pay 
 for the time wasted." 
 
 " That depends. If a man is fond of striped 
 
Uncle Henry. 19 
 
 squirrels, it pays to hunt them; and if he has a 
 taste for physiognomy, it pays to study it." 
 
 " And, after he has studied for years, reject it 
 on account of the exceptions ? The idea that 
 the exception proves the rule won t do. 
 Fixed rules, only, are worthy of confidence. 
 There are too many exceptions in physi 
 ognomy." 
 
 There you are treading on dangerous 
 ground, my boy. No fact is better established 
 than that there are exceptions to all general 
 rules. It is the rule that boys raised under 
 proper influences make good men, but some 
 times a preacher s son turns out badly. He is 
 an exception ." 
 
 "Not necessarily. Preachers sons are not 
 always raised under proper influences. There 
 is often a wide difference between the private 
 and public life of a preacher a difference 
 which boys readily perceive and it is this 
 evidence of hypocrisy that makes them turn 
 out badly. If the father is simply a guide- 
 board, the son will take another road than that 
 which is pointed out to him. The devil needs 
 
2O A Century of Gossip. 
 
 no better servants than men who stand still and 
 point out the way. The few who attempt to 
 follow their directions are soon lost in doubt, 
 and those who know them best are sure to take 
 the other road." 
 
 " But a spiritual guideboard is only another 
 1 exception which proves the rule." 
 
 At this point the conversation was inter 
 rupted by the entrance of Deacon Wells, who, 
 in spite of the cold, " came in to put a few nails 
 in his boot-heel." Uncle Henry kindly gave 
 him a last, hammer, and nails, knowing full 
 well that the Deacon s object was to save fifteen 
 cents by doing his own cobbling. Not that he 
 might purchase with it the necessaries of life; 
 not that he might give it to the poor, or place it 
 in the missionary box. The Deacon does not 
 lend his money to the Lord. He is saving it to 
 buy the "Jones place," which is to be sold by 
 the Sheriff next week. As Jones his early 
 friend and benefactor is dead, and the orphan 
 children have no moneyed friends to assist them, 
 he thinks it " can be bought at a bargain." And 
 so it can ; but the devil will be a party to the 
 
Uncle Henry. 
 
 21 
 
 contract, and he will surely foreclose his mort 
 gage on Deacon Wells. This world would be 
 a paradise, weeded of the Deacon and kindred 
 spirits. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 DEACON WELLS. 
 
 ^IJYATIENCE, black my best boots, git out 
 Ij my great coat, and patch up this ragged 
 J\ ten cents. I shall be late to conference." 
 And Deacon Wells took from his pocket the 
 county paper borrowed from a neighbor and 
 read the advertisement of the Sheriff offering the 
 Bently farm at public auction. Since his pur 
 chase of the ( ~ Jones place," he has a fondness 
 for that kind of reading matter. He has read 
 that same advertisement a dozen times during 
 the w^eek, but he will read it again, and calculate 
 how many dollars he can realize out of his antic 
 ipated " bargain," by way of preparing his mind 
 for conference. He regretted to spare the half- 
 day, for he is the town tax-gatherer a position 
 for which he is eminently fitted; and were he 
 the county hangman, the " eternal fitness of 
 
Deacon Wells. 23 
 
 things " would still be preserved. Like many 
 other tax-gatherers, the Deacon oppresses the 
 poor and lets the rich "pay when they find it 
 convenient," and on that particular Saturday he 
 expected to levy on Widow Brown s cow, and 
 have his son Elijah, the pride of his heart, bid 
 her off for the paltry sum of three dollars and 
 eighty-eight cents; but he must go to conference 
 and tell his " experience." 
 
 Tell his experience ? God save the mark ! 
 Conference meetings would be numbered among 
 the things that were, if men like Deacon Wells 
 should tell what is hidden in their hearts. 
 
 The Deacon s family consists of his wife, 
 Patience, and his two sons, Elijah and James. 
 Patience Wells is as broad and noble as her 
 husband is narrow and selfish. The first hour 
 of wedded life taught her that she had made a 
 fatal mistake. A poor orphan, weary of the 
 hardships of her lot, she married for a home. 
 The Deacon studiously concealed his true char 
 acter during his courtship, and w r hile she knew 
 that she did not love him, she imagined that she 
 could respect and obey, and might " learn to love 
 him in time; " but on the evening of their mar- 
 
24 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 riage, when lie told her she "must read the 
 Scripter, jine church, and live as a deacon s 
 wife orter," she realized that there was an 
 impassable gulf between them. Joining church 
 was, to her, something more than a mere form, 
 and the command revealed her husband s hypoc 
 risy, chilled her heart, and taught her the sad 
 lesson of his cruel deceit. Bitter, indeed, would 
 be the fruit of her ill-starred marriage, but she 
 would suffer in silence, and in silence she suffers 
 still. She is only one of the great army of 
 unhappy wives, who find, too late, that they 
 cannot * learn to love." 
 
 Elijah Wells, the Deacon s first born, is the 
 " improved edition " of his father, who named 
 him "accordin to Scripter." There is nothing 
 about Elijah that suggests Holy "Writ, save his 
 name. His conduct is sadly at variance with its 
 teachings. He is cold, cruel, and grasping ; his 
 father s joy and his mother s great sorrow. All 
 Elton wonders how Patience Wells could bear 
 such a child; but Elton, like the rest of the 
 great world, has not fathomed the mysteries of 
 hereditary transmission. 
 
 James, the younger, is the opposite of his 
 
Patience, black my best boots, get out my great coat, and 
 patch up this ragged ten cents. 1 PAGE 22. 
 
Deacon Wells, ?$ 
 
 brother. He lias the broad, high forehead, and 
 full, hazel eves of his mother, and has inherited 
 many of her excellent traits of character; but, 
 unlike her, he will not tamely submit to the 
 tyranny of his father and brother. By the 
 persistent effort of his mother he has been 
 kept at school for several years, has access 
 to the law library of an attorney in a neigh 
 boring village, and is preparing to enter a 
 profession in which he is destined to make 
 his mark. 
 
 " Come, Patience, hurry up. I must be there 
 in time. A deacon orter let his light shine, and 
 not hide it under a bushel. (Or a peck measure, 
 thought his doubting wife, but she dared not 
 utter her thoughts.) And I want to get through 
 in time to levy on Widow Brown s cow, if I 
 can. If I give her time, she 11 raise the heft of 
 her tax by sellin socks, and some meddlin 
 neighbor will lend her the rest, and I will 
 miss that cow." 
 
 " Has Widow Brown more than one cow?" 
 
 " Only one. She sold the other to pay her 
 husband s funeral expenses." 
 
 " And do you really want to take advantage 
 
2 6 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 of her necessities, and buy her only cow for a 
 song?" 
 
 "Take advantage of her needcessities? What 
 a fool you air, Patience. It is my duty to 
 collect the taxes, and I allers try to do my 
 duty." 
 
 " Why don t you collect the tax of Esquire 
 Gould? The amount is twenty times larger 
 than Widow Brown s." 
 
 ."That s a hoss of another color, Patience 
 Squire Gould got me my appintrnent, and I 
 ain t goin to be ongrateful." 
 
 " When, at conference, you ask God to remem 
 ber the poor, will not thoughts of Widow 
 Brown s cow intrude, and interfere with your 
 devotions?" 
 
 " See here, Patience, I ve heered enough of 
 that nonsense. The Bible says a man that don t 
 look out for his own household is worse n a 
 infidel ; and I b lieve the Bible ; there s the 
 difference atwixt us." 
 
 "Does not your Bible teach you to care for 
 the widow and the fatherless? " 
 
 "Ain t I as much of a orphan as Sam Brown s 
 children? When I m lookin out for myself, 
 
Deacon Wells. 27 
 
 I m obeyin the Scripteral injunkshun to look 
 out for the fatherless." 
 
 " You have enough, and to spare. If you will 
 pay the widow s taxes, instead of rob taking 
 her cow, God will bless you for the deed." 
 
 u You d better make a confeshun and jine 
 church afore you preach to one of the Lord s 
 anninted. I m tired of heeriii that nonsense. 
 God blesses the man as looks out for number 
 one; and that s me. You ve been learnin Jim 
 your hifalutin noshuns till you ve made him a 
 infidel. He told me to my face that I might as 
 well rob the Widow Brown as to buy her cow 
 for taxes. He said i rob, Patience, and that s 
 what comes of your sinful conduct." 
 
 "And what reply did you make? " 
 
 " I told him he was a moonshiny calf, just like 
 his mother, and didn t know beans when the 
 bag s open. He ain t half so sharp as Elijah." 
 
 " I hope he never will be sharp enough to 
 oppress the poor. I do not uphold him in his 
 disrespect for his father, but he has noble 
 impulses." 
 
 "Xoble fiddlesticks! He has the imperence 
 of the devil, and no more sense than a suckin 
 
28 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 dove. It all comes of your snivelin and my 
 yieldin to your foolish noshun about sendin 
 him to skill e." 
 
 " Yery well, I will take the responsibility." 
 
 "Yes; but that don t pay the bills, nor make 
 him a dutiful son, like Elijah." 
 
 Deacon Wells hurried off to conference to 
 thank God that he was " not as other men." 
 Patience went to her room to weep. J^ever 
 before had she dared to express her opinion so 
 freely in her husband s presence. She was ter 
 rified by her own boldness, and sought relief in 
 woman s great panacea tears. 
 
 Conference did not adjourn in time for the 
 Deacon to " levy on that cow," and he went 
 home in an ill humor; and vented his spleen at 
 the supper table his usual custom. On Sun 
 day and Monday a snow storm kept him in the 
 house and shoe shop, but early on Tuesday 
 morning he started for Widow Brown s. "That 
 
 O 
 
 track looks mazin ly like old Charley s," he 
 mused, as he discovered a horse s track in the 
 snow; "that left fore shoe is as like it as two 
 peas in a pod; but it can t be his, for he hain t 
 been out of the barn sense conference." He 
 
Deacon Wells. 29 
 
 V 
 
 rode on in the bitter cold a fitting morning 
 for his errand occasionally thinking of "that 
 hoss track." In due time he reached the hum 
 ble home of "Widow Brown, and entered ^it 
 without knocking. Deacon Wells never knocks 
 at the doors of the poor. Men of his type 
 cannot be courteous, save in the presence of 
 those who are blessed or cursed with 
 wealth. 
 
 "Good mornin , Sister Brown. I m sorry, 
 but my duty compels me to levy on ,your cow 
 for them taxes." 
 
 " You need not take the cow, Deacon. I will 
 pay the tax." 
 
 The crafty tax-gatherer could not conceal his 
 disappointment. He coveted that Durham cow, 
 and some "meddler" had foiled him. The 
 widow divined his thoughts, and rather en 
 joyed his discomfiture. 
 
 "Where did you git the money, Sister 
 Brown?" 
 
 "That is an impudent question, but I will 
 answer it. God put it into the heart of a man 
 more charitable than you, to furnish me the 
 money." 
 
30 A Century of Gossij). 
 
 ."All right, Sister Brown. The Bible says 
 that charity begins at home, you know." 
 
 "The Bible does not say so; and, if it did, it 
 would not say that it should end at home, as 
 your s does." 
 
 "Well, Mis Brown, I pay my taxes and all 
 my other debts. No man can say that .1 owe" 
 him a nine-pence, and there ain t many men can 
 say as much." 
 
 " That is simply your duty, and it is not a 
 virtue. Men often do a simple act of justice 
 that the law might enforce, and claim credit for 
 magnanimity, and some men are not very par 
 ticular as to the manner in which they pay their 
 debts." 
 
 "I pay mine in lawful money, Mis Brown." 
 
 "Was it all obtained in a lawful manner, 
 Deacon Wells?" 
 
 " In course it were. Who dare say t wan t?" 
 
 "Every man, woman, and child, in Elton, 
 except your poor wife, dare say it, Deacon. 
 Even your son James, if pressed, would not 
 deny it. Do you think the Eltonians have for 
 gotten the Jones place?" 
 
 :i That was a square deal, Mis Brown. The 
 
Deacon Wells. 31 
 
 Sheriff sold it accord! n to law ; I bought it 
 accordin to law, and paid for it in lawful 
 money, accordin to law, and made ten thousand 
 dollars" 
 
 "According to law; but where does the jus 
 tice come in? Is it just that Bessie Jones 
 should be compelled to wear her life out by 
 teaching school that you may add to your ill- 
 gotten gains? Is it just that her earnings 
 should be used to support her crippled brother 
 when you honestly owe him five thousand dol 
 lars? No, Deacon Wells. You have robbed 
 the children of your early friend, and God will 
 surely punish you for it. He will not quite 
 forget sweet Bessie Jones." 
 
 " You air a imperent, ungodly woman, and if 
 you was wuth anything, I d make you prove 
 what ydti say." 
 
 " I shall take pleasure in doing it any time 
 that may suit you, Deacon." 
 
 The atmosphere was too warm for Deacon 
 Wells. He took the widow s money, gave her a 
 scrawl which he called a receipt, and started 
 for home, in a very uncomfortable mood. He 
 knew he was a hypocrite, but, until Mrs. 
 
32 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 Brown opened his eyes, lie imagined lie was 
 deceiving all the world except his son Elijah. 
 He even dreamed that he was deceiving Patience 
 and James. It was a terrible awakening for 
 Deacon AVells. Not that his conscience troubled 
 him, but, like other men, he could not regard 
 the opinions of his fellows with indifference. 
 Men, however depraved, never sink so low that 
 public opinion cannot reach them, nor do they 
 rise above it. It governs the conduct of- the 
 statesman, and dictates the utterances of the 
 theologian. It tempts the criminal to go from 
 the gallows with a lie upon his lips, to meet an 
 offended God. It is no wonder that the Deacon 
 was agitated when he learned the verdict of the 
 terrible tribunal. At enmity with all the world, 
 he reached home, determined to "make some 
 body smart." 
 
 " Elijah, has old Charley been out of the barn 
 sense conference? " 
 
 "I guess not. Maybe Jim had him out. I 
 hain t used him." 
 
 "Where s Jim?" 
 
 " Up in the corner bedroom, with his head in 
 them pesky law books." 
 
Deacon Wells. 33 
 
 " Patience, tell Jim to come down here imme- 
 jiately." 
 
 The tired mother sought her son, and deliv 
 ered the message. She knew the Deacon was 
 very angry, and she asked James to keep cool, 
 and remember that he was to meet and talk with 
 his father. " Above all things, my boy, let your 
 language be courteous and respectful," was her 
 earnest admonition. " I will try, for your sake, 
 dear mother," was his reply, as he went down to 
 the sitting room, firmly resolved to obey; but 
 steel cannot clash with steel without bringing 
 the sparks. 
 
 " Jim, have you had old Charley out of the 
 barn sense conference?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 "When?" 
 
 " Last evening." 
 
 " What did you take him out for? " 
 
 "To ride." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 "Where I pleased to go, father. I am no 
 longer a child ; and, even in childhood, I had the 
 privilege of taking a horse from the stable, and 
 going and returning unquestioned. I have not 
 
34 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 injured old Charley, nor have I used him for a 
 bad purpose. This assurance ought to suffice." 
 
 u But it do n t * suffice, my sweet blossom, 
 and if you don t tell me where you went, and 
 what you went for, 1 11 cut you off with a 
 shillin . If you air too big to larrup, I can 
 fetch you that way." 
 
 " All right, father. I accept the alternative." 
 
 "Accept the what?" 
 
 " The alternative." 
 
 " None of your French talk to me, young man. 
 I don t want none of your frog-eatin lang- 
 widge. Put it in plain English." 
 
 " I mean that I accept yonr conditions. I 
 will take the shilling, and will not tell you where 
 I went." 
 
 " You won t, hey ! Your imperence shall cost 
 you fifty thousand dollars. You will wish you 
 hadn t turned up your nose at the goose that 
 lays the golden aig. You 11 make a fine lookin 
 porper, with your soft hands and hifalutin airs. 
 I wonder if Parson Green s church, that you 
 take such a shine to, will tide you over then? " 
 
 " I 11 row my own boat against both wind and 
 tide, if it be necessary; but you need not sneer 
 
Deacon Wells. 3 5 
 
 at Parson Green, or his church. It would be 
 well for you to learn something of pure religion 
 from Parson Green." 
 
 " He can learn us base ball, but I want none 
 of his expoundin of Scripter on doctrinal pints. 
 If you and your mother had kept away from his 
 church, you d have understood more about what 
 was becomin for a deacon s wife and son." 
 
 "And less about true Christianity." 
 
 "And," interrupted Elijah, "less about shay- 
 rades, and that game of cards with no jacks 
 in it." 
 
 James left the room, fearing to remain, lest he 
 might wound his mother by giving free utter 
 ance to his thoughts. 
 
 " There, mother, is a sample of your Parson 
 Green Christians. Stealin a hoss out of the 
 barn, and refusin to tell his dad where he went, 
 may be good religion, but it won t go down 
 with me." 
 
 " I am sorry that James did not tell his father 
 where he went with the horse, Elijah, but I am 
 equally sorry to hear you speak so of your 
 brother." 
 
 " You Ve made a stuck-up fool of him, 
 
36 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 mother, with. your soft words and high eddi- 
 cashun." 
 
 " Elijah is right, Patience. If yon d let me 
 trained him accordin to Scripter, and sent him 
 to our church, he d been a different kind of a 
 bird s aig." 
 
 " Yes, mother, he s nothing but a crow s aig 
 now, and if dad ad had the train in of him he d 
 a knowd what to do for a sick hoss by this 
 time." 
 
 "To be shure he would, Elijah; and he d a 
 knowd better than to fool away fifty thousand 
 dollars by a little imperence; but it s all the 
 better for you, Elijah." 
 
 "Well, twill learn him better than to talk 
 French to you, father, and I guess I know how 
 to take care of the money." 
 
 " So you do, Elijah; and you help me make it, 
 while Jim does nothin but spend it." 
 
 " He will earn money when he masters his 
 profession. Lawyer Armstrong says he pos 
 sesses legal ability, and will have a lucrative 
 practice." 
 
 "What s a lucrative practice, Patience?" 
 
 " Money-making business." 
 
Deacon Wells. 37 
 
 " And what s a legal remedy, mother? " 
 
 "A lawful remedy; but why do you ask?" 
 
 " I heered Jack Blunt tell Jim that dad gave 
 him and Tom Siddons fifty dollars apiece for 
 apprisin the Jones place for so much less than 
 twas wuth; and he told Jim there was no 
 notice served on Bessie Jones, and asked Jim 
 what Bessie could do about it, and Jim told him 
 she had her legal remedy, and I didn t know 
 what that were, that ? s all." 
 
 " It s enough, I kalkerlate. I 11 make Jack 
 Blunt smart for that. He s a ongrateful dog to 
 take my money and then blow on me. I 11 fix 
 him the next court. I ve got a morgidge on his 
 house." 
 
 " Then you 11 have the fat in the fire, father. 
 (It was one of Elijah s peculiarities to address 
 Deacon Wells as father, and speak of him as 
 4 dad. ) Better let me cozzen up to Bessie Jones 
 and buy her intrust for a new dress; then you 
 can go for Jack Blunt." 
 
 u Your hed s mighty level, Elijah. That s 
 the way we 11 do it." 
 
 "What is her interest worth?" asked 
 Patience. 
 
3 8 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 "The place is wuth fifteen thousand dollars. 
 I bought it for five thousand, and made a cool 
 ten thousand in the barg in. Her half would 
 be held for half of her father s debts, and that 
 would make her intrust wuth five thousand 
 dollars, and Elijah is sharp enough to get her to 
 sign a quit-claim deed for a five-dollar dress. 
 That s the way we 11 work it." 
 
 " It may be sharp, but will it be right? " 
 
 "In course it will. Isn t it right for a 
 man to make all the money he can accordin to 
 law?" 
 
 " I cannot see how a transaction so unjust can 
 be lawful." 
 
 "Nobody expects you to see it, mother. 
 It s a good thing for us that wimmin do n t 
 know no thin about the law." 
 
 " If women made the laws they would not be 
 so manifestly unjust, I hope; though the fault 
 may be less in the law than in the loose manner 
 of administering it." 
 
 "We don t want to hear no lectur about 
 wimmin s rights, Patience. You re allers a 
 harpin on some nonsense or other. It all 
 comes of Parson Green lettin wimmin speak 
 
Deacon Wells. 39 
 
 in meetin . He orter know better, for t ain t 
 Scripteral." 
 
 " I have never spoken at any of the meetings 
 of Parson Green s church." 
 
 "You ve heered other wimmin speak, and 
 that s jest as bad. The Bible says wimmin 
 should be seen, not heered." 
 
 " You find many very strange things in the 
 Bible." 
 
 " In course I do. I read it. If you d take 
 the Bible for your guide, as a deacon s wife 
 orter, you d know somethin about men s 
 rights." 
 
 " My Bible does not teach that man lias the 
 right to defraud a poor orphan of her patri 
 mony." 
 
 "Tour s is a wimmin s Bible, mother." 
 
 " Our conversashun is gittin scattered, Pa 
 tience. I want to know if you know where Jim 
 went with old Charley; and, if you know, be 
 you goin to tell me?" 
 
 " I do not know. I presume he went on an 
 errand of mercy. He was, doubtless, acting as 
 becometh the son of a deacon." 
 
 "Actin more like the son of a wimmin s 
 
4 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 rights fool, I kalkerlate. There is preslms little 
 of my blood in his veins." 
 
 " God knows I hope you are right, father," 
 said James, as he entered the room, purple with 
 rage. " The poisonous fluid would blacken my 
 heart." 
 
 " James, for my sake, say no more, and leave 
 the room." 
 
 " I must speak, mother! You shall no longer 
 submit to their tyranny." 
 
 " Shame on you, Jim, to talk that way to your 
 dad." 
 
 "This is not your quarrel, Elijah. I have 
 been an unwilling listener to your conversation, 
 and I have a right to speak. I will not be 
 silent and let you abuse mother simply because 
 she dares to plead for the right. I heard your 
 damnable plot to rob Bessie Jones of her interest 
 in her father s place. Such villainy will not go 
 unpunished, and though our laws are defective, 
 they are strong enough to compel you to make 
 restitution. Justice will some day overtake you, 
 and I tremble when I contemplate the result. 
 Your avarice will lead you to a felon s cell, and 
 your ill-gotten wealth will not unlock its door. 
 
Deacon Wells. 41 
 
 I cannot remain beneath this roof and eat bread 
 that has been stolen from the widow and the 
 orphan. To-day I will go out into the world, 
 and, by honest toil, provide an humble home. 
 You shall go with me, mother, and though you 
 cannot be happy, you can be free from this 
 cursed tyranny. You shall no longer be the 
 slave of criminals." 
 
 "Nobody don t want you to stay, Jim. 
 Elijah and me can run the place better with 
 out you. You re a little mite too good for this 
 world, and orter be replanted among the angels, 
 ortent he, Elijah? " 
 
 "Yes, father, he orter be planted somewhere; 
 he s green enough to sprout." 
 
 " Do not go away, James. I cannot leave 
 your father, and I cannot live without you." 
 
 " I must go, mother. I shall feel like a guilty 
 wretch if I remain. Why can you not go with 
 me?" 
 
 " Because I promised to love, honor and 
 obey your father. Marriage is a solemn rite, 
 and I shall, at least, obey him." 
 
 " Your marriage has, indeed, been solemn, 
 mother. There has been no sunshine in your 
 
4 2 ^ Century of Gossip. 
 
 life. Yon cannot love, because yon cannot 
 honor Deacon Wells; you can only obey, 
 and in your case obedience is a crime." 
 
 " I do not so regard it, James. My promise 
 is binding." 
 
 " No pledge can bind yon, body and soul, to a 
 man whom you cannot respect. Your life is a 
 lie, mother, and your marriage is void. In a 
 matter of such vital importance, every woman 
 is a law unto herself." 
 
 " That is mere sophistry, James. I recognize 
 no higher marriage law than the statutes of 
 Maine." 
 
 "There is a higher law, mother; a law 
 founded upon the immutable principle of justice 
 and right; a law that breaks the chains of the 
 unwilling captive; a law that recognizes alike 
 the claims of husbands and wives; a law that 
 annuls all false marriages the God-given law 
 of love." 
 
 " Our courts do not regard that law, James, 
 and the world knows no other tribunal." 
 
 " The world will honor you if you will be true 
 to yourself, mother. Go with me, and I will 
 make you comfortable." 
 
Deacon Wells. 43 
 
 " I do not consider my comfort." 
 
 "Go, if you want to, old woman. You ve 
 never been what a deacon s wife orter be, and 
 I in willin . My doctrine is that there air better 
 fish in the sea than has ever been ketched, and 
 I ve got a silver hook to ketch em with; eh, 
 Elijah?" 
 
 u Yes; but don t git a young chub, father. 
 Old fish and young uns don t git along in 
 double harniss." 
 
 " It s the young uns that s a bo therm of you, 
 Elijah, you sly dog; but I ll look out for your 
 intrust." 
 
 " Never fear, Elijah. I shall not go." 
 
 " Good bye, mother dear. You will not for 
 get that I shall have a home for you very soon, 
 and will gladly welcome you." 
 
 " I shall not forget, my dear son. The God 
 whom you serve will be with you always, -and 
 He shall be unto you more than father, mother, 
 or brother. May His choicest blessings rest on 
 you, my boy." 
 
 James left home with a heavy heart, regret 
 ting that his mother would not go with him. 
 After his departure, she was subjected to many 
 
44 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 indignities, and the days were all dark and 
 dreary. There was no one to shield the defense 
 less wife and mother from the cruel thrusts of a 
 tyrannical husband and a graceless son. She no 
 longer attended Parson Green s church. Even 
 this crumb of comfort was denied her, and she 
 tamely submitted. If the Deacon was foiled in 
 his attempt to rob a widow or an orphan he 
 preyed only on those whom he thought friend 
 less he would go home and " make Patience 
 smart for it " ; and the son vied with the father 
 in heaping abuse upon the silent, suffering 
 woman. God is just, and He will, in His 
 own good time, avenge the wrongs that have 
 burned into the soul of Patience Wells. 
 
CHAPTEE III. 
 
 BESSIE JONES. 
 
 SHALL go, Harry. The offer is five dol 
 lars per month better than any I have 
 received, and Elton is not so far away." 
 
 "I don t want you to go to Elton, Bessie. 
 Deacon Wells lives there; and Bob Grant says 
 he cheated you and me out of ten thousand 
 dollars." 
 
 " Upon what does lie base his conclusions? " 
 
 " He says the mill is worth ten thousand dol 
 lars, and the timber land five thousand, to say 
 nothing of the farming land, which I admit is 
 not worth much. Deacon Wells bought it all 
 for five thousand dollars. Bob says, if he were 
 an honest man he would pay us five thousand 
 dollars each." 
 
 "Robert may be mistaken, dear brother. 
 Deacon Wells is prominent in his church, and 
 
 if he were dishonest, that would not be." 
 (45) 
 
46 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 "Bob says his church believes in total de 
 pravity and infant damnation, and he is good 
 enough for a deacon in such a church, if he does 
 cheat widows and orphans." 
 
 " You should remember, Harry, that Robert s 
 warm friendship for you may lead him into 
 error in his estimate of Deacon Wells. I 
 know the old home place is worth three times 
 the amount it cost him; but Esquire Gray says 
 the sale was in strict accordance with the law, 
 and five thousand dollars was the highest bid." 
 
 "It was legal robbery, sister, and your fine 
 reasoning cannot change it. Right is right, and 
 wrong is wrong. The proposition is too plainly 
 written to be misunderstood. The line between 
 right and wrong is well defined, and Deacon 
 Wells knows that he is a thief and a robber." 
 
 " That is strong language, Harry, and it pains 
 me to hear you use it." 
 
 " It is plain English, Bessie, and though I am 
 sorry to grieve you, I cannot retract." 
 
 "But you will be just?" 
 
 "Aye, when justice is meted out to you. 
 Were it not for these crippled legs, I would not 
 care; but I cannot bear to see you wear your life 
 
Bessie Jones. 47 
 
 out in teaching a village school when a comfort 
 able support is dishonestly withheld." 
 
 " I am not wearing my life out, Harry. 
 Look at my full, red cheeks." 
 
 " The result of a month s rest, Bessie. The 
 roses were not there when you returned from 
 Glenville." 
 
 u The effect of a little trouble at Glenville. 
 The committee did not sustain me in my efforts 
 to govern my school. It may never occur 
 again." 
 
 ki It will occur again and again, Bessie. So 
 long as school committees are composed of men 
 who take no interest in educational matters 
 men of neither natural nor acquired ability 
 will your little trouble be constantly recurring. 
 School committees, as at present constituted, are 
 simply a delusion and a snare. Men fear to do 
 right, lest they offend an influential neighbor. 
 There is a world of truth in the homely adage, 
 that kissing goes by favor, and so long as 
 there is an appeal to a committee, schools will 
 be governed on the same principle." 
 
 " Boy like, you are jumping at conclusions, 
 Harry. Some committees are composed of highly 
 
48 A Centiiry of Gossip. 
 
 cultivated gentlemen, who feel a deep interest in 
 schools, and manifest a wise discretion in their 
 government." 
 
 "They are simply exceptions to the general 
 rule, and are seldom found outside of books." 
 
 " I have found them, Harry, and I am not 
 even a primer." 
 
 " You are a dear, kind sister, Bessie, and I am 
 a wretched burden to you. I sometimes wish I 
 were dead, that I might no longer be the recip 
 ient of your life-destroying bounty." 
 
 The orphans wept. Bessie wisely concluded 
 that her poor, deformed brother would find 
 relief in tears, and it was but natural that her s 
 should mingle. 
 
 " You are not a burden to me, dear brother. 
 You are all I have to care for, and my life would 
 be very, very lonely without you." 
 
 " If I could only work, Bessie, I should be 
 content; but it is so hard to sit here idle and eat 
 the bread you earn by incessant toil." 
 
 " You do not consider how much you help me 
 in my studies. What could I do with my Greek 
 were it not for my clever lexicon? " 
 
 "But I bring no bread to our table, Bessie." 
 
Bessie Jones. 49 
 
 " You bring richer food for my soul, Harry, 
 and help me beyond your power to calculate." 
 
 " I help eat what your bounty provides." 
 
 "That is not a fair statement. Every life 
 must have its compensations. To labor for you 
 is one of my f compensations, 7 and I am grateful 
 for the privilege." 
 
 " Your labor is drudgery, Bessie." 
 
 " Far from it, my dear sir. I know no field 
 that I would prefer. Labor is a duty, and I can 
 be more useful as a teacher than in any other 
 vocation." 
 
 " There are so many petty annoyances in the 
 life of a school teacher." 
 
 " There are petty annoyances in everyone s 
 life. The true philosophy is to rise above them. 
 This is not more difficult in teaching than in any 
 other occupation, and there is a bright side to a 
 school ma am s life. Her influence over her 
 pupils is felt when they go out into the world 
 to battle for a prominent place upon the stage, 
 and, if it be properly directed, she has her sure 
 reward." 
 
 u God will reward you for your self-sacrificing 
 devotion, dear Bessie." 
 
5O A Century of Gossip. 
 
 "Even in Elton?" 
 
 "I hope so, if yon must go there; and yet 1 
 fear His spirit will not dwell so near the home 
 of Deacon Wells." 
 
 " I must go, Harry." 
 
 Bessie went. 
 
 "Where shall I set you down, Miss Jones?" 
 
 "At Widow Love s." 
 
 " There s where you re wise. She s the best 
 woman on this route, and she s well named, for 
 she loves everybody, even to us poor stage- 
 drivers. Many s the time she s sot up till mid 
 night to give me a cup of hot coffee when the 
 thermometer was froze up. I m not much of a 
 God-fearin man, for I wa n t raised that way, 
 but if there is a Heaven, Widow Love will go 
 there, and she ll tiy as high as any of the 
 angels, if she does weigh two hundred and 
 forty pounds." 
 
 " Thank you. I am glad to learn that she is 
 kind-hearted." 
 
 " Kind-hearted is no name for it, Miss Jones. 
 She s kind all over, from the top of her jolly, 
 
Bessie Jones. 51 
 
 round head to the soles of her little, fat feet. 
 She ll be a downright mother to YOU, and 
 you 11 cry like a baby when you go way from 
 there." 
 
 Five- minutes drive brought them to the 
 home of Widow Love a neat little brown 
 cottage, with a sharp roof and dormer window. 
 There were no blinds to shut out the sunlight, 
 and the spotless, white curtains told Bessie that 
 within, as without, everything was neat and 
 home-like. 
 
 i; Come in, dear, and have a cup of hot tea 
 and a doughnut. You must be thoroughly 
 chilled by your long ride; and you, too, John. 
 A cup of tea will do you good." 
 
 "Thank you ever so much, Mis Love; but 
 I m jest a leetle behind time to-day, and I 
 guess I won t stop. I must go into Glenville 
 on time or bust a trace. 
 
 " All right, John. Have your own way, and 
 break your traces, if you will. There s no such 
 thing as making a stage-driver mind." 
 
 " If I wasn t behind time, I d mind you so 
 quick twould make your head swim, Mis 
 Love." 
 
52 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 John carried Bessie s trunk to the " best bed 
 room/ mounted the box, touched up his leaders 
 with his Dexter whip, and the Glenville coach 
 went down the lull at a break-neck pace. 
 
 " Give me your hat and shawl, Miss Jones, 
 and sit down to your tea. Mine is an humble 
 home, but you are very welcome, and I hope it 
 will seem like home to you." 
 
 " Your kindness makes it seem like home 
 already, Mrs. Love." 
 
 Widow Love did not reply. She gave Bessie 
 a hearty, motherly kiss, that brought tears of 
 gratitude to the eyes of the orphan; a kiss that 
 lingered on her lips and warmed her heart with 
 joy; a kiss that came to her in dreams, and 
 whispered " All is well." 
 
 Bessie s school was much like other village 
 schools. It contained the usual number of 
 bright pupils, as well as the dull and indolent. 
 Two faces, only, attracted particular attention 
 when she entered her school-room. One was 
 that of a pale-faced, bright-eyed boy, with a 
 mass of tangled hair, and a ragged coat and 
 pants; the other a girl of sixteen, w r ith strongly- 
 marked features and a thoughtful expression. 
 
Bessie Jones. 53 
 
 Bessie approached the boy and asked him his 
 name. 
 
 < ; It used to be Robbie Bently, but it s Bagged 
 Bob now." 
 
 " Why is it < Eagged Bob now? " 
 
 " Deacon Wells turned us out of our home, 
 and I am only a bound boy." 
 
 Only a bound boy! There is a volume in the 
 sentence. A volume that tells of cold indiffer 
 ence, or cruel neglect. A volume that reveals a 
 selfishness that should make men blush and 
 angels weep. God knows the anguish of the 
 bound boy s heart, but His children are 
 strangely, sadly ignorant, or cruelly unmindful. 
 
 During recess, Robbie Bently told the teacher 
 how Deacon Wells had purchased the old home 
 stead at Sheriff s sale, and turned his mother, 
 brother, and four sisters, out into the world. 
 With quivering lip and trembling voice he told 
 of his mother s struggles, sickness, and death. 
 Bessie s heart went out to the poor orphan, and 
 she could but condemn the man whose avarice 
 had caused so much misery. In that hour was 
 born a deep sympathy for the bound boy, that 
 bore rich fruit in his early manhood. The sym- 
 
54 ^ Century of Gossip. 
 
 pathy of a true woman always manifests itself 
 in works; and Bessie Jones is a true woman. 
 
 The girl who attracted Bessie s attention was 
 Nellie, only daughter of Jack Blunt. She was 
 modest, intelligent, and fine looking. Her fea 
 tures had none of that doll-baby beauty, that so 
 surely indicates the absence of mental power, but 
 they were marked and attractive. Bessie often 
 observed in her face a far-away look, that told 
 plainly that her mind was not on her books. 
 Was she thinking of her dead mother, whom she 
 remembered as a patient, suffering woman? or 
 was she sorrowing over her father s misdeeds? 
 Her thoughts are sacred, and you and I, kind 
 reader, will not attempt to lift the veil. She 
 knew her mother had grieved over the evil ways 
 of an unworthy, though fondly-loved, husband 
 until her tired life went out. She knew that 
 her father, the willing tool of Deacon Wells, had 
 cruelly wronged Bessie Jones. Did she err in 
 withholding that knowledge, when it was in her 
 power to right the wrong the orphan girl was 
 suffering? Was it her duty to consign her 
 father to a felon s cell? Put yourself in her 
 place, and answer the question. 
 
Bessie Jones. 55 
 
 " You Ve had a caller, Bessie." 
 
 "Who was it, Mrs. Love?" 
 
 " Elijah Wells." 
 
 u Why did he not come to the school house? " 
 
 " He thought YOU would be home to dinner, 
 
 V 
 
 in spite of the storm." 
 
 " Did he tell you his errand? " 
 
 u No, dear. He said he wanted a little con- 
 versashun with the school mum. He may be 
 looking for a wife. He s old enough to marry, 
 and if he can find a girl that prefers brass to 
 brains, and will be satisfied with a gizzard, 
 instead of a heart, I should advise him to marry 
 at once." 
 
 u Then Mr. Wells is not one of your 
 favorites!" 
 
 "Not Elijah, nor the Deacon; but James is 
 one of the best men in the world. He is a law 
 yer and a Christian a rare combination." 
 
 " Are not most lawyers Christians? " 
 
 " That is not my experience, Bessie. I know 
 so many of them that practice little deceptions 
 for their clients. A desire to succeed in their 
 profession too often induces them to distort facts 
 and defeat the ends of justice. They consider it 
 
5 6 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 unprofessional to lie, bnt they will permit a Avit- 
 ness to do it for them. There was Lawyer Giles, 
 of Glenville, who tried to collect a note my hus 
 band paid in his life-time. He admitted to me 
 that he knew his client was swearing falsely, 
 and when I asked him why he didn t stop him, 
 he said it would have been unprofessional. But 
 for James "Wells cross-examination, I would 
 have had to pay that note, and my little home 
 would have been taken from me. I wish you 
 had heard James plea. It made the judge, 
 jury, and all the spectators weep, and the jury 
 rendered a verdict without leaving their seats." 
 " Then you consider James a good lawyer?" 
 il The best in the State of Maine; and he s a 
 good Christian, too. He would not take a penny 
 for his services, and he worked very hard to save 
 my home. I made him a dozen fine shirts, and 
 knit him ten pairs of socks, and could hardly 
 induce him to accept even that small fee." 
 
 " I presume, Mrs. Love, there are many other 
 Christian gentlemen in the profession. Among 
 my acquaintances are several excellent men, 
 honest, liberal, and philanthropic, who are 
 prominent lawyers. I think real lawyers are 
 
Bessie Jones. 57 
 
 truthful, and only the shams do the pettifog 
 ging-" 
 
 "But the shams are largely in the major 
 ity like the quacks in the medical profession." 
 
 "Pardon me for differing with you again, 
 Mrs. Love. I do not think the quacks are in 
 the majority in the profession of medicine. A 
 quack makes more noise than a dozen educated 
 physicians, and this noise misleads us in our 
 comparison." 
 
 " I hope you are right, Bessie. You have 
 seen more of the world and read more than I, and 
 your opportunities for forming a correct opinion 
 have been better than mine." 
 
 " I have not advanced beyond the alphabet in 
 reading, and I know very little of the world." 
 
 At this point the conversation was interrupted 
 by the sound of the door-bell. Mrs. Love 
 answered the summons, admitted and intro 
 duced Elijah Wells. 
 
 "The weather is sort o coolish, like, Miss 
 Jones." 
 
 "Yes, sir; it has been very cold to-day." 
 
 "It s good weather for lumberin , and that s 
 a object in this neck o woods." 
 
58 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 " I presume so." 
 " How do you like your skule? " 
 " I cannot tell. I have been teaching only one 
 day." 
 
 " Yes, mum; but a body finds out a good deal 
 in one day, specially in Elton." 
 
 " I like your people very much, so far as I 
 know them." 
 
 "Yes, Miss Jones; we have a few good peo 
 ple here, but they re mostly a shiftless set, and 
 they do n t know how to git forehanded in the 
 world." 
 
 " Perhaps they think that getting money is 
 not the chief end of life." 
 
 " If it is, they -11 never see the chief end, Miss 
 Jones, for they don t know nothin about gittin 
 money. Sense you ve interduced the subject, 
 I 11 tell you what I ve come for. My dad, 
 Deacon Wells, bought your dad s place at 
 Sheriff s sale. You have no intrust in it 
 whatsomever, but I ve brought a quit-claim 
 deed for you to sign, jest to make the title 
 look a little better on the records. If you 11 
 sign it, I ll give you a five-dollar dress; that ll 
 be clear gain." 
 
Bessie Jones. 59 
 
 " If I have no interest in the place, why 
 should I sign your deed?" 
 
 Jest as I said afore; to make it look a little 
 better on the county records; and you make a 
 five-dollar dress, slick and clean." 
 
 " I am not an object of charity, Mr. Wells, 
 and if I have nothing to convey, I shall not 
 accept a consideration for signing the deed. I 
 will have the matter examined by a competent 
 attorney, and if it be true that I have no interest 
 in the old homestead I will cheerfully sign the 
 deed without compensation, and you can give 
 the dress to some one who needs it more than 
 I do/ 
 
 "All right. Let Squire Gray examine the 
 thing. He s good enough lawyer to look up 
 titles, and he does a deal of it. Tell him 
 I 11 pay the shot." 
 
 " Thank you. I will pay my own attorney." 
 
 "Will you git Squire Gray?" 
 
 " I cannot say; I shall think about it." 
 
 " Good night, Miss Jones. I 11 stick to your 
 takin the dress, ir Squire Gray does say you 
 hain t no intrust in the place, which he 
 ondoubtedlv will." 
 
60 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 " Good evening, Mr. Wells." 
 
 Kind-hearted Mrs. Love could with difficulty 
 restrain her joy until Elijah departed. 
 
 " Thank the Lord, dearie, you are not penni 
 less. You are worth five thousand dollars this 
 blessed minute." 
 
 " Why do you think so? " 
 
 "Simply because Deacon Wells and his hope 
 ful son are not around giving away live-dollar 
 dresses. Depend upon it, you still have your 
 interest in the old place, and this is one of his 
 rascally tricks to get you to convey it for a 
 song." 
 
 " I dare not hope for such good fortune, Mrs. 
 Love; but I will have a lawyer look into the 
 matter for me." 
 
 " Get James Wells. He will do it well, and 
 he will be very moderate in his charges." 
 
 " I cannot expect a son to conduct a case 
 against his father; and I have never met Mr. 
 Wells." 
 
 "That won t make a mite of difference. 
 They say he left home because he was dis 
 gusted with his father s habit of cheating 
 widows and orphans." 
 
Bessie Jones. 61 
 
 " Even if lie should consent, it would place 
 him in an extremely embarrassing position. I 
 cannot ask him to do it.* 
 
 " Maybe you are right, as usual, Bessie. But 
 don t get Esquire Gray to attend to it. Deacon 
 Wells will have him doctored before to-morrow 
 night/ 
 
 " Xo, I will not employ Esquire Gray, though 
 I have considered him an honest man." 
 
 11 When you see a man hobnobbing with Dea 
 con Wells as much as Esquire Gray does, he will 
 bear watching. Birds of a feather, you know; 
 and it is safe to judge men by the company they 
 keep." 
 
 " I will consult lawyer Ainsworth. I know 
 he is honest and truthful." 
 
 " That cock won t fight, father. Guess Bessie 
 Jones has lots of good clothes left over. She 
 wouldn t nibble at that dress." 
 
 "What did she say?" 
 
 " She kind o" turned up her pink and 
 wite nose, and said she wasn t a object of 
 charity." 
 
62 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 "Did you tell her she had no intrust what- 
 somever in the plac; ? " 
 
 " Yes. I told her everything you told me to, 
 and a lot on my own hook, besides." 
 
 " Well, what s to be done about it? " 
 
 "She s goin to see a lawyer, and I recko- 
 mended Squire Gray." 
 
 "That s right, Elijah. T 11 go and see Squire 
 Gray to-morrer, and he 11 counsel her to sign 
 the deed." 
 
 "Canyon fix him ?" 
 
 "He s already fixed. He ll do anything I 
 want him to." 
 
 " S posin Bessie do n t go to Squire Gray?" 
 
 " I ve tho t it all over, Elijah. If she do n t 
 go to Squire* Gray, you must kitten up to her 
 and marry her." 
 
 " Good enough." 
 
 A week after the foregoing conversation, Dea 
 con Wells called his son : 
 
 " You must put on yer go-to-meetin -best and 
 go down to see Bessie Jones this evenin . She 
 didn t go to Squire Gray." 
 
 " How do you know? " 
 
 " I put Jack Blunt on her track. Last Satur- 
 
Bessie Jones. 63 
 
 day she went to Glenville, and was in Lawyer 
 Ainsworth s office nearly a hour; so she s got 
 him, and the fat s in the fire, onless you marry 
 the gal; and it s the easiest way to make five 
 thousand dollars." 
 
 "But s posin Bessie should object?" 
 " Tell her I m wuth a cool hundred thousand 
 dollars, and you air my only inheritanser. 
 That 11 fetch her quicker n you can say Jack 
 Roberson." 
 "So twill." 
 
 "Good evenin , Miss Jones. Tho t I d drop 
 in and spend the evenin with you, if you re 
 disengaged." 
 
 " Thank you. I have a little work to do, but 
 it will not require all the evening." 
 
 "Teechin skule is sort o workish bizness, 
 ain t it?" 
 
 " Yes, sir. It is laborious, but it has its com 
 pensations." 
 
 "Has its what?" 
 
 " Its compensations." 
 Yes, I s pose so; but they didn t study em 
 
64 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 when I went to skule. They had n t got that fur 
 along." 
 
 " What were your principal studies? " 
 
 " Read in , ritin and Vithmetick. I got as 
 fur as desolate frackshuns in rithrnetick." 
 
 " Then you did not get into algebra? " 
 
 "No, mum; but I got into a row with the 
 master, and walloped him for sayin my edika- 
 shun wan t complete." 
 
 " Did you not whip him on a very slight pro 
 vocation? " 
 
 " I did n t wallop him on a provokashun. I 
 took him on the skule-house floor. He had no 
 bizness to say my edikashun wan t complete. 
 Accordin to my idee, readin , ritin , and rith- 
 metick is enough for anybody. The fellers that 
 is allers hankerin after the higher limbs never 
 make any money." 
 
 " But the higher branches are taught in our 
 common schools, now." 
 
 " In our uncommon skules, you orter say, Miss 
 Jones. It s them hifalutin things that makes 
 our taxes so steep." 
 
 u I hope you do not object to paying your 
 school tax, Mr. Wells?" 
 
Bessie Jones. 65 
 
 " What s the use of objectin 1 . Taxes is taxes, 
 and they has to be paid, but the men who want 
 their boys to know it all, pay preshus little taxes." 
 
 " You are familiar with the tax list, are you 
 not?" asked Mrs. Love. 
 
 " I s pose you mean that I know somethin 
 about it?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " I kalkerlate I do. I know nearly every 
 man s tax in the town." 
 
 "Who is the heaviest tax-payer? " 
 
 " Deacon Hezekiah Wells pays the most 
 money, but he ain t as heavy as Doctor Smith 
 by nigh onto forty pounds." 
 
 "Then the Deacon is wealthy?" 
 
 "No, Mis Love. He isn t a bit stuck up, but 
 he s well heeled, and his wallet don t look like 
 the last run o shad." 
 
 " And he is n t very particular about his man 
 ner of filling it, is he? " 
 
 " Yes, mum. He s orful partickeler. He 
 puts the hundreds in one place, the fifty s in 
 another, the twentys in another, the tens in 
 another, and the fives and twos and ones in 
 
 his little wallet by their selves." 
 5 
 
66 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 " Does lie allow you a liberal supply of spend 
 ing money?" 
 
 "I don t go down on my dad for spendin 
 money, Mis Love. I have a wallet of my own, 
 and t ain t so lean as a sick Loss, nutlier. I 
 speckerlate purty considerble on my own hook. 
 Last week I bought ten yearling and a clam 
 privilege." 
 
 "What will you do with your yearlings?" 
 
 "Sell em to the butcher when he gits 
 short." 
 
 " And the clam privilege? " 
 
 " I 11 lay low about that till some feller gits 
 to diggin clams on it, and if he do n t come 
 down with somethin hansum, I 11 prosecute 
 him for trespass." 
 
 "Isn t that a disreputable way of making 
 money, Elijah?" 
 
 "What kind of a way, Mis Love? " 
 
 "A bad way." 
 
 " No, I guess not. 1 can make it faster that 
 way than choppin cord- wood, or peelin hem 
 lock bark, and I allers had a poor appertite for 
 cuttin wood." 
 
 " You cut wood for your mother, do n t you? " 
 
Bessie Jones. 67 
 
 "I cut considerable sense Jim left; but she 
 burns chips a most of the time." 
 
 u Your mother is a dear, good woman, Mr. 
 Wells." 
 
 " Yes, mum. She s sort o goodish. She s a 
 tip- top cook and a spankin good butter- maker; 
 but she keeps sicli a hankeriri after Jim that it 
 spiles her for a mother. Dad wants me to kitten 
 up to some good gal and git mar rid on the two- 
 forty, and sense I think of it, Miss Jones, you 
 and I would make a hull team, if it s agreeable 
 to you? " 
 
 " I have no desire to change my condition." 
 
 " Bless your sweet life, you needn t change 
 nothin but your name. You can keep right 
 along with your sknle, and be earnin somethin 
 that way, if you want to. There 11 be no need- 
 cessity for you to work, onless you want to, for 
 dad is wuth a cool hundred thousand, and I in 
 his only inheritanser." 
 
 " I must decline the honor, Mr. Wells. I do 
 not wish to marry at present." 
 
 " You do n t want to git marrid ? Well, Miss 
 Jones, you re the only gal in Elton that sails on 
 that tack, and you do n t carry sich a tarnashun 
 
68 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 site of canvas, nuther. The sea is full of fust 
 rate fish, and I ve got a gold hook to ketch em 
 with; so, good evenin , Miss Jones." 
 
 " Good night, Mr. Wells." 
 
 As soon as the door closed, Mrs. Love 
 indulged in a hearty laugh, at the expense of 
 the parsimonious lover. 
 
 " Did you ever, Bessie? He is a higger fool 
 than I supposed him to be." 
 
 " You must be charitable, Mrs. Love. Per 
 haps he inherited his peculiarities." 
 
 " So he did. I m glad James is like his 
 mother." 
 
 "The jig s up, father, and you ll have to 
 come down with that five-thousand-dollar dust. 
 Bessie Jones mittened me last evenin ." 
 " Did you tell her what I was wuth? " 
 " Yes, sir; and I told her I d git it all. And 
 I told her I had a wallet of my own, and 
 understood readin , ritin , and rithmetick. I 
 told her she need n t work a lick, onless she was 
 a mind to. I tho t I d tell her that ontil we 
 was marrid, you know." 
 
Bessie Jones. 69 
 
 " And she sacked you square? " 
 
 " That s jest what she did." 
 
 "She s a born fool." 
 
 " Jess so." 
 
 "I won t come down with the dust, Elijah. 
 I ve got another plan in my head. Five thou 
 sand is wuth playin 1 for, and I 11 win. The 
 man at plays Hezekiah Wells for a fool is jest a 
 leetle looney, that s all." 
 
 "Shure s you re born; but what s your 
 little game, father?" 
 
 " I 11 not show my hand jest yet, Elijah." 
 
 " Be shure and hold the four aces when you 
 come to a show, father." 
 
 "I ll have a hull pack, if it s needful." 
 
CHAPTEK IV. 
 
 THE GOSSIPS AND OTIIEES. 
 
 OOEAH for Jim Wells. He s got the 
 
 TT nominashun, and I 11 bait a last year s 
 bird s nest he ll go to Congress!" 
 
 " Is the old Deacon very angry? " 
 
 "Angry? He s bilin over. He put in his 
 oar for Squire Gray; but the Squire can t rep 
 resent this deestrict. He s too milk-and-water- 
 ish. I cum purty near speakin right in meetin 
 and tellin em that Elton wouldn t pull a rope 
 for him, if he got the nominashun." 
 
 "Was Jim Wells there?" 
 
 "No; he s tendin court to Augusta." 
 
 "How did he get the nomination? Conven 
 tions do not usually select the best men." 
 
 " Why, you see, the other feller that s runnin 
 lives at Glenville, and the candidate must come 
 
 from this end of the deestrict. There was 
 (70) 
 
The Gossips and Others. 71 
 
 nobody up but him and Squire Gray. The 
 old Deacon made a speech agin Jim, and said 
 he was too young and unexperienced to go to 
 Congress. He wan t sharp enough to see that 
 the convenshun was made up of us young fellers, 
 and his speech settled the hash and nominated 
 Jim. Of course it ain t nateral for young fellers 
 to wait till they re gray before they can go to 
 Congress; and the Squire is Gray and can t go. 
 Hoorah for Jim Wells." 
 
 " I hope he will accept the nomination. He 
 would make his mark in Congress." 
 
 "Make his mark? He can write as plain a 
 hand as any man in Maine." 
 
 " I mean that he will distinguish himself." 
 
 " Oh, yes. And he 11 repeal the game law. 
 so a feller can git a little deer meat after the 
 fust of January." 
 
 "Exactly; and it would be dear meat if you 
 should hunt till you found one." 
 
 T ain t your mix, Zach Brown. But I did 
 come purty near killin one last winter." 
 
 "How near?" 
 
 " I was jest gittin ready to fire when he see 
 me and started.* 
 
7 2 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 " If you d fired that old blunderbus of your s, 
 Uncle Jo West would have been scouring the 
 country, looking for a lost boy." 
 
 " That s so, Zach. ITis old gun kicks worse 
 than a blue-nosed mule." 
 
 " I notice you re all glad to git her in rabbit 
 time." 
 
 " That s because we have some sympathy for 
 the rabbits." 
 
 Here the conversation was interrupted by the 
 entrance of Elijah Wells, who was not popular 
 with the boys at Elton, and did not feel " at 
 home " in the shoe shop. He came on business. 
 " Uncle Henry, I want you to measure my 
 foot for a pair of boots. I want em dirt cheap, 
 and must have em right off." 
 " All right." 
 
 " Don t make em, Uncle Henry." 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "Your lasts are all too small, and you will 
 have to make em on the turn of the road. 
 There s a fine for obstructing the highway." 
 
 " If I did n t pay no more road tax than you 
 do, Zacn Brown, I wouldn t say much about 
 fines." 
 
The Gossips and Others. 73 
 
 u What I do pay is honestly earned, Lige. I 
 wish I could say as much for you." 
 
 " You can, if you 11 stick to the truth, and not 
 lie about it." 
 
 " See here, Lige. You re not the man to talk 
 about tellin the truth. If I owed the devil a 
 thousand liars, and he wouldn t take you for 
 the debt, I d cheat him out of it." 
 
 "You ain t sharp enough to cheat anybody, 
 Zach." 
 
 " I J m too sharp to inquire for a left-handed 
 hoe, Lige." 
 
 "That s one of Tom Taylors lies. I never 
 done it." 
 
 " But you did try to deceive a poor girl, and 
 you tried to ruin her reputation." 
 
 " Some gals is orfnl easy ruined, Zach." 
 
 u Come, come, boys. I like to have you spend 
 your evenings with me, but you must not quar 
 rel, or slander your neighbors." 
 
 "I wouldn t quarrel, if they d let me be, 
 Uncle Henry; but they re allers a pickin at me, 
 cause I make more money than they do." 
 
 And Elijah left the shop, slamming the door 
 in a manner which clearly indicated his anger. 
 
74 A Centiiry of Gossip. 
 
 "I guess Lige is half right about Nellie 
 
 Blunt." 
 
 "Yes, I believe he is. Blood will tell; and 
 
 Jack Blunt has bad blood in his veins." 
 " She climbs trees like a Tom boy." 
 " And goes troutin in short dresses." 
 " And combs her hair high up on her forrid." 
 " She puts perfumery on her handkercher." 
 " And they say she wears corsits." 
 "Wus than that; she danced with a stranger 
 
 from the West ard to the New Year s ball." 
 The conversation was interrupted by a young 
 
 man, who had been a silent listener, taking his 
 
 departure. 
 
 " Who is that young feller, Uncle Henry ? " 
 " I do n t know. He came in before the rest 
 
 of you to leave his measure for a pair of 
 
 slippers." 
 
 " He s a smart-lookin chap." 
 
 " He s studyin for a preacher." 
 
 "What makes you think so, Sam?" 
 
 " I see him git some books from Parson Green 
 
 to-day." 
 
 " And I see him come out of Jack Blunt s, 
 
 this afternoon." 
 
The Gossips and Others. 75 
 
 " Did you notice how pale lie was when he 
 left? " 
 
 " Yes. There s too much terbacker smoke for 
 him in here/ 
 
 " It was not the tobacco smoke that made him 
 sick." 
 
 " How do you know, Zach." 
 
 " The sickness caused by tobacco smoke does 
 not pinch one s face as his was pinched. It is 
 something worse than that." 
 
 Zach Brown was right. It was something 
 worse than tobacco smoke. A poisoned arrow 
 had entered the young man s heart, and almost 
 stilled its pulsations. He loved Nellie Blunt. 
 
 " It could n t be much worse than this ter 
 backer smoke, Zach." 
 
 "Perhaps he was sorry to hear an innocent 
 girl slandered." 
 
 " How do you know she is innercent? " 
 
 " How do you know she is guilty?" 
 
 "Appearances is agin her; and then she s 
 Jack Blunt s daughter, and then Jack is bad 
 blood." 
 
 " Her mother was an honest, intellectual, 
 amiable woman." 
 
7^ A Century of Gossip. 
 
 " But they say girls takes mostly after their 
 fathers." 
 
 "That is nonsense, Sam. I believe Nellie 
 
 Blunt is an honest girl, and it is a shame for 
 
 you boys to blacken her character. She has 
 
 nothing in the world but her good name, and 
 
 if you rob her of that, she will be poor indeed." 
 
 " We Ve only been tellin what we Ve heered." 
 
 "You never heard a whisper against her 
 
 character, save from the gossips that nightly 
 
 assemble in this shop." 
 
 " That s right, Zach. Give em gowdy." 
 <( Their conduct is shameful, Uncle Henry." 
 " So it is, my boy, and I hope you 11 reform 
 
 " May be he s only tryin to cover his own 
 
 tracks, Uncle Henry." 
 
 " That s a cowardly insinuation, Sam Smith." 
 
 " Tut, tut, boys. No quarreling/ 
 
 During the momentary lull that followed, 
 
 Deacon Wells entered, and inquired for Elijah. 
 " Guess he went up to Jack Blunt s, Deacon." 
 " What does he want with Jack Blunt? " 
 " I kalkerlate his bizness is with Nellie." 
 " Git out with your nonsense. I squelched 
 
The Gossips and Others. 77 
 
 that more 11 a month ago. Elijah can t marry 
 that gal. She ain t got a cent in the world, and 
 she wouldn t be no fit match for my boy." 
 
 " You re right, Deacon. Elijah can t marry 
 her." 
 
 " Now you re talkin sense, Ben. It would be 
 a onsuitable match." 
 
 "Yes, sir. Too much lucifer about it." 
 
 That s the idee, Ben." 
 
 Arid Deacon Wells went home and told his 
 wife that he "alters thought Ben Love was a 
 smart boy." 
 
 "Wonder if the old skin-flint will vote for 
 Jim at the polls?" 
 
 " You can bait your sweet life he won t, Ben. 
 He s never forgive him for ridin old Charley 
 down to Widow Brown s, and givin her the 
 money to pay her taxes. The Deacon had his 
 heart sot on that Durham cow." 
 
 " If it had n t been for Jim Wells, Zach, your 
 Aunt Elsie would have lost her cow." 
 
 " No. I saved up the money, and went down 
 the same morning the old Deacon went to levy 
 on the cow ; but Jim had been there before me. 
 I honor him for his kindness, and shall support 
 
7$ A Century of Gossip. 
 
 him cordially, if we do differ in our political 
 opinions. We need honest men in Congress." 
 
 " We need honest men everywhere, Zach." 
 
 " That s true, Uncle Henry ; but we especially 
 need them in Congress." 
 
 " You 11 not get many of them there until the 
 people quit sending the politicians." 
 
 " Jim Wells is not a politician." 
 
 "No. Jim Wells is an honest man. It s a 
 pity to spoil such a man by sending him to 
 Washington." 
 
 " Never fear. He will keep." 
 
 "Why can t they have things as they used to? 
 We used to have honest men in office." 
 
 " Everything has changed. You do n t make 
 boots as you used to." 
 
 " Yes I do. I use nothing but hemlock tan, 
 and I do my crimping by and. I don t take 
 kindly to these new-fangled ways." 
 
 " You re an exception, Uncle Henry." 
 
 " I wish we had a few exceptions in office." 
 
 " Lawyer Wells will be an exception ." 
 
 " So he will, if he gets there. The district is 
 pretty close, and the Deacon s opposition may 
 beat him." 
 
The Gossips and Others. 79 
 
 " Success is often assured by the opposition of 
 such men as Deacon Wells." 
 
 "That s true; but the Deacon has some influ 
 ence in his church. They do n t know him as 
 well as we do, and then they re a little put out 
 with Jim for goin to hear Parson Green." 
 
 "That cuts both ways, and Parson Green s 
 church is the largest." 
 
 " I never thought of that. I must talk to the 
 Parson about it." 
 
 " I 11 guarantee that the Parson will support 
 him." 
 
 " I do n t think the old Deacon has such a 
 great sight of influence in his church, Uncle 
 Henry." 
 
 " Why not, Sam." 
 
 " Cause, father belongs, and he says Deacon 
 Wells is a snide." 
 
 "What s a snide?" 
 
 "I don t know; but it ain t anything good." 
 
 " How do you know? " 
 
 " If it was, father would n t say it of the old 
 Deacon. He yank d fifty dollars out of the old 
 man on a hoss trade, and there s no love atwixt 
 
- 8o A Century of Gossip. 
 
 " Is that where your father got that spavined 
 alligator?" 
 
 " Yes. He give the old Deacon fifty dollars 
 to swop, and come home orfal tickled. He tho t 
 he d got a big barg in in that hoss." 
 
 " It is n t jest right for members of the same 
 church to swop hosses. They orter take in out 
 siders." 
 
 " There s where Deacon Wells obeys the 
 Scripter. If a stranger comes along, he * takes 
 him in ." 
 
 " But he do n t stop at strangers. He takes in 
 his own church members." 
 
 " Well, the old fellow will find his match 
 when he takes a twist with the devil." 
 
 " Don t be too shure of that, Ben. The devil 
 has no bizness foolin with Deacon Wells. He d 
 have a rnorgidge on the infernal regions afore 
 he d been there a week." 
 
 "That won t work, Sam. He couldn t find 
 nothin to write it on." 
 
 " Yes he could. He d take a sheet of brass 
 from his face. Then he d hunt up Squire Gray 
 and have it foreclosed, get Jack Blunt and Tom 
 Siddons to appraise h 11 at one-third of its 
 
The Gossips and Others. 8 1 
 
 value, buy it in at Sheriff s sale, and serve a 
 notice on the devil to vacate." 
 
 " What would Elijah be doing all this time, 
 Zach?" 
 
 " Oh, he d be juldng round, stealing the 
 brimstone to s-tart a match factory." 
 
 " S posin the old hypocrite should git to 
 Heaven?" 
 
 " He would n t stay there. Men never spend 
 much time with uncongenial associates." 
 
 u What would he do with the infernal regions, 
 if he could n t find Jack Blunt and Tom Siddons 
 to appraise em for him ? " 
 
 " He would be sure to find them. A man 
 can t spend his life in the service of the devil, 
 and then tack ship and sail into Heaven." 
 
 " You orter have been a preacher, Zach." 
 
 "There is plenty of material here to work 
 upon." 
 
 u The harvist is ready for tl;e sickle." 
 
 " Not until it ripens." 
 
 " Do you mean to insinerwate that we re 
 green?" 
 
 " Not exactly green. Sam; but a man that will 
 
 go to Tunk Lake to fish for togues, and freeze 
 6 
 
82 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 his feet on the ice while looking for holes that 
 were cut the winter before, is only sun-baked." 
 
 " I did n t freeze my feet. I only frosted one 
 of my toes." 
 
 "Was there any frost left, Sam?" 
 
 " My feet ain t so orful big, Ben." 
 
 " No ; but they tell me an elephant can t pass 
 them without blushing." 
 
 "My feet ain t no thin compared with Lige 
 Wellses." 
 
 " The deficiency in his head is made up in his 
 feet. Tour s ought not to be quite so large as 
 his." 
 
 " He knows how to make money, Ben." 
 
 " That is all he knows. There is not a ten- 
 year-old boy in Elton so ignoront as he. He 
 went to school but a few months, and thought 
 more of trading jack-knives than getting his les 
 sons. All the father s avarice, and some of his 
 low cunning, has been transmitted to Elijah, 
 while he has inherited none of his mother s 
 brains. He will never learn anything, except 
 how to make a good bargain and cheat at cards." 
 
 "Did he inherit his fondness for cards from 
 the Deacon?" 
 
The Gossips and Others. 83 
 
 "They tell me the Deacon plays a rattling 
 good game of draw poker when he gets away 
 from home. Tom Taylor run across a man that 
 had a little set-to with the old hypocrite at Ban- 
 gor. Tom s friend was betting pretty lively on 
 an ace-full, when the Deacon coolly took four 
 queens from his coat pocket as he reached for 
 his tobacco and raised him a hundred." 
 
 "Did the feller call him? 1 
 
 " !N"o. He raised him back two or three times, 
 and finally called him and lost the money." 
 
 "How did he know the Deacon didn t get 
 his hand honestly?" 
 
 "He counted the deck, and found it short?" 
 
 ; Why didn t he make a fuss about it?" 
 
 " He had stolen his ace-full, and could n t do 
 it with a good grace; and he thought he could 
 get his money back by stealing the four aces, but 
 the Deacon fought shy, and he could n t play it 
 on him." 
 
 "Did Lige learn his card-playin from the 
 Deacon?" 
 
 "I don t know. Jack Blunt says they play 
 ten-cent ante in the barn loft, and Elijah rather 
 beats the Deacon." 
 
84 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 " Why do n t the Deacon s church haul him 
 over the coals?" 
 
 " They do n t know it; and those who do know 
 about it do n t wan t to tell and be hauled up as 
 witnesses." 
 
 " That s the way it goes, now-a-days. Ras 
 cals go free and prey upon the innocent, simply 
 because honest men are too cowardly to prose 
 cute them." 
 
 " Why do n t you prosecute him, Uncle 
 Henry?" 
 
 " I have n t time." 
 
 " I presume that other honest men would offer 
 the same excuse. The truth is, men who attend 
 to their own business have but little time to 
 meddle with the affairs of others." 
 
 " Nobody here has n t seen the old feller play 
 cards, except Jack Blunt and Lige, and they 
 would n t appear agin him." 
 
 "How do you know, Sam? Jack Blunt is a 
 little out with the Deacon just now." 
 
 " I do n t care if he is. The Deacon owns 
 him, and he darsent tell on him." 
 
 "What is Jack out with the Deacon about?" 
 
 "The Deacon promised to let him run the 
 
The Gossips and Others. 85 
 
 mill on the Jones place, and backed down when 
 Jack got ready to go." 
 
 " I s pose he would n t object to Jack takin 
 double toll, but lie didn t want him to steal 
 it all." 
 
 " It would be a good thing if Jack would 
 steal the mill, water privilege and all." 
 
 "Jack says the school-marm is goin to try to 
 git her part of the concern back." 
 
 " How does he know ( 
 
 " The Deacon sent him clear to Glenville to 
 watch her, the other day, and he says she feed a 
 lawyer." 
 
 " I hope she will succeed. It was a rascally 
 piece of business throughout, and she and her 
 brother were cheated out of ten thousand dollars 
 by the old Deacon." 
 
 " And Jack Blunt helped to do it." 
 
 " Yes. He and Tom Siddons were the ap 
 praisers." 
 
 "A feller could take a quart of rum and pump 
 it all out of Jack. I ve a notion to do it, and 
 tell the mistress." 
 
 " You 11 have to take more n a quart, or Jack 
 won t git any." 
 
86 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 " Do n t worry about Jack not gittin his share 
 of rum when there s any round." 
 
 " Deacon Wells brought him a ten-gallon kag 
 when he come from Bangor, and it did n t last 
 him a fortni t." 
 
 " I 11 bait the Deacon put in four gallons of 
 rum and eight gallons of water. lie ain t round 
 givin away pure rum." 
 
 " How many gallons will a ten-gallon keg 
 hold, Sam?" 
 
 "Ten gallons of rum, and twelve or thirteen 
 gallons of water. Water ain t so strong, you 
 know." 
 
 " Guess he s got you there, Ben. A man can 
 hold more water than rum." 
 
 " Men are not kegs, though some of them do 
 hold a great deal of rum." 
 
 "How do these old guzzlers git their rum, 
 when the law is so hard agin it?" 
 
 " Most of it is smuggled over from the Prov- 
 
 OO 
 
 inces. They say Deacon Wells has made a great 
 deal of money smuggling rum." 
 
 " Is there any deviltry that the Deacon ain t 
 into? Pie plays cards, cheats widows and 
 orphans, and smuggles rum. Seems to me 
 
The Gossips and Otliers. 87 
 
 that orter be enough for a deacon in good 
 standin ." 
 
 Wan t the Deacon raised in the Provinces? " 
 
 "He was born in Xova Scotia, and was a 
 hard ticket until he came here and joined 
 church. " 
 
 " He wan t in earnest when he jined church, 
 was he Ben? " 
 
 " Xo. It was only a blind, to conceal his real 
 character." 
 
 " "Well, I never knowed afore that the old cuss 
 was a reg lar blue-nose." 
 
 " You knowed he had an orful big nose, did n t 
 you, Sam?" 
 
 "Yes; big enough fora railroad depo, but I 
 didn t know twas blue." 
 
 " What makes em call the Xovey Skoshians 
 blue-noses ?" 
 
 " Cause it gits so cold down there that a 
 man s nose gits as blue as an indigo bag." 
 
 " If the people is all like the old Deacon, I 
 should n t hanker arter em." 
 
 "How is it, Ben; you ve been there? " 
 
 " I liked the Provincials very much, Zach." 
 
 "Are they very stingy? " 
 
88 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 " On tlie contrary; they are kind-hearted and 
 liberal." 
 
 "They say they are agin free skules; and I 
 do n t go a nine-pence on people that is down on 
 free skules." 
 
 " That s a mistake, Sam. In Nova Scotia, 
 where the free school system was introduced 
 nine or ten years ago, it is heartily indorsed and 
 warmly supported. In New Brunswick it has 
 met with some opposition, but it has many 
 friends there, and the opposition is dying 
 out." 
 
 " Is it true that they put a jack-knife and a 
 pine stick beside a Yankee s dinner plate, to keep 
 him from whittling the table?" 
 
 "That s another mistake, Zach. They don t 
 whittle as much as we do; but they know how 
 to treat people politely." 
 
 "And eat dry toast?" 
 
 " Yes ; they eat a great deal of dry toast. It 
 is found on the table at every meal." 
 
 " I should think they d get tired of it." 
 
 " Dry toast is to them what doughnuts are to 
 us. A meal is not complete without it." 
 
 " Why do they eat so much more of it over 
 
The Gossips and Others. 89 
 
 the line, in New Brunswick, than we do in 
 Maine?" 
 
 " That is easily accounted for. The Provincial 
 Government admits our low grades of flour free 
 of duty. Much of the bread made from it is 
 sour, and is not fit to eat until it is toasted ; so 
 dry toast is a necessity in the Provinces." 
 
 " Jim Wells cleared that little blue-nose, for 
 stealin money over to Sackarap, didn t he, 
 Zach?" 
 
 " Yes. The little fellow was not guilty, but 
 the Sackarapers would have sworn him squarely 
 into the State prison if Jim had n t picked their 
 evidence to pieces." 
 
 " None of them law lubbers has any bizness 
 foolin with Jim Wells. He kin wallop the best 
 of em." 
 
 " Jess so. He s sharper n a cambric needle." 
 
 " They say he didn t charge the little fellow a 
 nine-pence for clearin him." 
 
 "No. It was a labor of love with him. 
 The boy told his story, and Jim believed him 
 innocent; and he will work harder to save a 
 poor, innocent boy from unjust punishment than 
 for a five hundred dollar fee." 
 
9 ^ Century of Gossip. 
 
 "There ain t many lawyers will do it, Ben." 
 " Bessie Jones says there are as many good 
 men among lawyers as in any of the professions." 
 " What does she know about lawyers? " 
 u She has been around a good deal, teaching 
 school, and is acquainted with a great many law 
 yers. Her knowledge is not confined to teaching 
 the young Eltonians to toe the mark and throw 
 their shoulders back." 
 
 " You bait. She knows more n anybody." 
 "What does such a little chit as you know 
 bout what the mistress knows?" 
 
 " She takes as much pains with us little uns 
 as she does with you big lubbers, and she s jest 
 as good as she can be. When I cut my finger, 
 this mornin , she tied it up, and kissed me, and 
 that s more n she d do for you." 
 
 " You re right, Mountain Jack. He d cut 
 his finger to-morrow morning, if he thought the 
 teacher would tie it up and kiss him." 
 
 U 0f course he would ; but she wouldn t kiss 
 a great big mopsy like him." 
 
 " She kissed Eagged Bob the other day." 
 "Well, Eagged Bob s a little, pale-faced boy,. 
 not much bigger n me." 
 
TJic Gossips and Others. 91 
 
 " He could put you in his coat pocket, Jack. 
 He s sixteen years old." 
 
 Xo he couldn t. His coat pocket is all tore 
 out. I give him an apple, this noon, and it went 
 onto the ground, and Tom Seely grabbed it, and 
 ^Nellie Blunt made him give it up." 
 
 "Yes; and Tom writ a verse on the black 
 board about it." 
 
 " Can you repeat it? " 
 
 " Nelly Blunt and Ragged Bob, 
 
 What a team they make ; 
 Bob gives Nell his chawin gum, 
 And Nell gives Bob her cake." 
 
 "Yes. But the teacher made Tom ashamed, 
 and made him rub it out before all the scholars." 
 
 " He would n t a rubbed it out if he wan t 
 fraid of a lickin , Jack." 
 
 "Miss Jones is too good to lick anybody. 
 She s the best mistress I ever went to." 
 
 " That s right, Mountain Jack. Stand up for 
 the teacher." 
 
 " So I will, Uncle Henry, cause she sticks up 
 for me." 
 
 "Come, boys, it s past nine o clock, and I 
 must close up." 
 
92 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 And Uncle Henry went home, with his head 
 filled with the good and bad things he had heard 
 in the shop. One thought, however, was upper 
 most in his mind. He would see Parson Green, 
 and talk with him about Jim Wells. 
 
CHAPTEE \ . 
 
 JAMES WELLS. 
 
 S chairman of the special committee, I 
 
 , _ have the honor, Mr. Wells, of inform - 
 ~" t ing you that YOU have received the 
 nomination for Congressman of this District, 
 and begging your acceptance." 
 
 " While I am not unmindful of the honor the 
 convention has conferred upon me, my time is so 
 fully occupied by iny professional duties that I 
 cannot canvass the District; and I have no 
 desire to go to Congress. You know I am not 
 a politician." 
 
 " That s why you were nominated, Mr. Wells. 
 We are tired of the politicians, and want to try 
 an honest man. You can be more useful in Con 
 gress than in practicing your profession." 
 
 "I am not willing to admit that; and if I 
 accept the nomination, I shall have to take the 
 
 stump and make a thorough canvass of the 
 (93) 
 
94 ^ Century of Gossip. 
 
 District. This I cannot do. I will not stoop 
 to the disreputable practices that are considered 
 essential in a race for office." 
 
 " The people do not require that. You can 
 accept the nomination and discuss party issues 
 at the various county towns in the District?" 
 
 "I am willing to do that; and if that is all 
 the party will require at my hands, I will accept 
 the nomination." 
 
 " All right. You will surely be elected." 
 " I regard my election as one of the possibili 
 ties, only. The District is very close, and my 
 opponent is an old politician; but defeat will 
 cause few regrets." 
 
 " You 11 beat him badly, Mr. Wells." 
 " Or accept the alternative, and be beaten." 
 It is not necessary to give the details of the 
 exciting political campaign that followed the 
 nomination of James Wells. He entered the 
 canvass reluctantly, and his first speech was not 
 remarkable; but the unjust criticism indulged in 
 by the press of the opposite party aroused him. 
 He discussed political questions in a manner 
 that clearly proved his familiarity with the his 
 tory of his country. He swayed the masses by 
 
James Wells. 95 
 
 his eloquence, and was triumphantly elected. 
 "Was he elated by his success?" As well ask: 
 " Is lie human? " 
 
 A year has passed since Bessie Jones com 
 menced her school at Elton. Lawyer Ainsworth 
 is " making haste slowly," in the case of Bessie 
 Jones vs. Hezekiah Wells, and the plaintiff is 
 teaching the winter term, in the old red school 
 house the scene of Elijah Wells pugilistic 
 exploit. Honest John " sot her down " at 
 Widow Love s, on his last trip, and her old 
 pupils have welcomed her with a warmth that 
 told how fondly she was loved. 
 
 " Ben tells me that you are going to Berwick, 
 to-morrow, Mr. Wells." 
 
 fci I have business there, and shall probably go 
 to-morrow morning, Mrs. Love. Can I do any 
 thing for you there?" 
 
 "Nothing there; but I wish you would take 
 Bessie Jones down with you. Her brother is 
 not well, and she is worrying about him. He 
 lives on the main road, about half way between 
 here and Berwick. I thought you could take her 
 
96 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 home, and call for her on the way as you came 
 back." 
 
 James Wells hesitated a moment. He knew 
 how cruelly his father had wronged Bessie Jones, 
 and he felt that to ask her to ride with him 
 would place both in an embarrassing position. 
 
 u Has Miss Jones expressed a wish to go with 
 me?" 
 
 "She don t know you are going. I want to 
 bring it about so that she won t know it was 
 arranged beforehand. She s so afraid of troub 
 ling anybody." 
 
 " I am not acquainted with her, and she may 
 object to riding with me." 
 
 " She knows you well by reputation, and if 
 you call at our house on your way, and let me 
 broach the subject, she will think it just hap 
 pened so, and I know she will be delighted to go 
 with you." 
 
 " You are always making things happen for 
 the benefit of others, Mrs. Love. I will call in 
 the morning." 
 
 "Thank you." 
 
 " And I shall enjoin secrecy in regard to our 
 plot." 
 
James Wells. 97 
 
 "All right. You will find that a woman can 
 
 o 
 
 keep a secret as well as a Congressman." 
 
 The next morning the jingle of sleigh-bells 
 attracted Bessie s attention, and she looked out 
 of the window as a well-dressed gentleman drove 
 a span of beautiful blacks up to the door/ 
 
 "There is a caller, Mrs. Love. 
 
 " I declare! It s James Wells." 
 
 Did Bessie Jones want to meet him? That is 
 a question she could not answer, satisfactorily, 
 herself. His name was a household word. Mrs. 
 Love and Ben were constantly singing his 
 praises. She had learned to regard him as a 
 hero, and her admiration was little less than rev 
 erence. But what would he think of her? Did 
 he know about Elijah s offer of marriage? Had 
 he a knowledge of her suit against his father? 
 And, knowing, would he censure her? Before 
 these questions were answered in her mind, Mrs. 
 Love introduced James Wells. Both were 
 slightly embarrassed, and as usual with well- 
 bred people both were soon at ease. Were 
 their first impressions favorable? Time will tell. 
 Mrs. Love watched them with eager interest, 
 
 and she was satisfied. 
 
 7 
 
98 A Century of Gossip, 
 
 "Where are you going, this morning, Mr. 
 Wells?" 
 
 To Berwick." 
 
 " Oh, Bessie, here s a chance for yon to go 
 and see Harry. Mr. Wells passes right by your 
 door." 
 
 " He may not desire to be troubled with a 
 passenger." 
 
 "You are a very light trouble, Miss Jones; 
 and I have a good team." 
 
 " Can you oblige me without inconvenience to 
 yourself? " 
 
 " It will afford me pleasure to take you." 
 
 " Thank you. I will be ready in ten minutes." 
 
 Before the allotted time expired, Bessie Jones 
 entered the sitting room. She wore a blue 
 
 O 
 
 merino dress, a brown beaver cloak, jaunty fur 
 cap, with tippet and muff to match, and a pair 
 of double-soled morocco boots. In short, she 
 was dressed as a sensible woman would dress for 
 a sleigh-ride in December. A single glance at 
 her graceful form, classical features and spark 
 ling, hazel eyes, convinced James Wells that she 
 was beautiful, and he inwardly thanked Mrs. 
 Love for " making things happen." As he was 
 
James Wells. 99 
 
 wrapping Bessie in the warm, fur robes, Mrs. 
 Love came out with a stick of birch heated 
 almost to burning. 
 
 " It will keep hot for an hour, and is long 
 enough for both jour feet." 
 
 Simultaneously they thanked Mrs. Love for 
 her thoughtful care, James took the reins and 
 the spirited horses started off in a gallop. 
 Bessie realized that they were going at a fear 
 ful speed, and Mr. "Wells could not control 
 them. 
 
 " Do not fear, Miss Jones. I will keep them 
 in the road." 
 
 " I am not afraid." 
 
 "Should it be necessary for you to jump, I 
 will let you know. Be sure to jump out 
 behind." 
 
 " I will." 
 
 A run of two miles brought them to a steep 
 hill, and when they reached the top, they were 
 easily controlled. James wisely applied the 
 whip, and galloped them another mile. 
 
 "Were you not a little frightened, Miss 
 Jones?" 
 
 " I hardly think I was frightened. I enjoyed 
 
ioo A Century of Gossip. 
 
 the bracing air, and tlie speed was exhila 
 rating." 
 
 " Only a brave girl can enjoy a runaway." 
 
 " Does not entire freedom from responsibility 
 make one brave? You are driving, and I am 
 only a passenger." 
 
 " But you shared the danger." 
 
 "After your instructions about jumping out, 
 I had no fear." 
 
 ""We are all right, now." 
 
 "Yes, sir; but you excited my curiosity by 
 whipping the horses when their speed was 
 checked, at the top of the hill." 
 
 " This is their first attempt to run with me, 
 and I do n t want them to know that I could not 
 control them. I think they will not try it again." 
 
 " I wish I could manage my pupils as easily." 
 
 " The young Eltonians are not so easily con 
 trolled as my horses. Judging from reports 
 about your school, your success in governing 
 it is encouraging. Some of your pupils like 
 my blacks will take the bit in their teeth, 
 occasionally, but you very wisely make them 
 believe they are governed." 
 
 " Those who do not recognize parental au~ 
 
James Wells. IOI 
 
 thority are with difficulty governed in school, 
 though nearly all my pupils are studious and 
 obedient." 
 
 "You have far less trouble with them this 
 winter than last?" 
 
 " Yes, sir. All my old pupils obey me, and I 
 find their influence a great help in governing the 
 new ones." 
 
 " After all, it is this great moral power that 
 governs the world. Arbitrary laws cannot be 
 enforced, because they are not backed by public 
 sentiment. Even wholesome laws are not 
 enforced in localities where public sentiment 
 has been wrongly directed." 
 
 What makes public sentiment, Mr. Wells? " 
 
 "Education. Public sentiment is cradled in 
 the school-room. In places like Sackarap, for 
 instance, a healthy public sentiment does not 
 exist, because the people are very ignorant." 
 
 " Do you not sometimes find an unhealthy 
 public sentiment in educated communities?" 
 
 " Rarely. It is true that educated people are 
 occasionally misled by designing men; but, as a 
 rule, they think for themselves, and are proof 
 against evil influences." 
 
IO2 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 "Are there not a great many educated 
 criminals?" 
 
 " I think not. Many criminals possess a great 
 deal of natural shrewdness and low cunning, but 
 they are not educated. 
 
 " Yet you believe that many ignorant people 
 are good?" 
 
 " Certainly. They were born good, and were 
 reared by honest parents. I am a firm believer 
 in hereditary transmission, Miss Jones." 
 
 " Does not the doctrine of hereditary trans 
 mission apply with equal force to criminals? " 
 
 "Undoubtedly; but education and association 
 with educated people has a refining and elevating 
 influence over them, and helps them to overcome 
 a natural propensity to do wrong." 
 
 " Is it right for courts of justice to punish a 
 criminal who inherits his evil propensities?" 
 
 " Courts are organized for the protection of 
 the innocent, and cannot recognize hereditary 
 transmission." 
 
 " Do they always protect the innocent? " 
 
 " I am sorry to say they do not. Judges and 
 juries are sometimes tampered with, and the 
 ends of justice subverted. This does not often 
 
James Wells. 103 
 
 occur; yet it is impossible to keep the ermine 
 spotless. What do you imagine will be the fate 
 of the hereditary criminals before the Highest 
 Tribunal, Miss Jones?" 
 
 " I think that an All-wise God will consider 
 their birth, and temper His justice with mercy. 
 I cannot believe that a man born and nurtured 
 in crime, with uncontrollable propensities to 
 evil, will receive no more consideration than 
 one who, born of honest parents, and sur 
 rounded by good influences, forgets his early 
 training and becomes a criminal in obedience to 
 the dictates of his own will." 
 
 " I hope you are right. To punish them 
 indiscriminately would not accord with our 
 ideas of justice." 
 
 "Do you prosecute many criminals, Mr. 
 Wells?" 
 
 " No. I never prosecute. I sometimes defend 
 men charged with crime, when I consider them 
 innocent." 
 
 " I presume innocent persons are rarely 
 charged with crime." 
 
 " Not often. Honest men do not associate 
 with criminals, and they seldom get into 
 
IO 4 si Century of Gossip. 
 
 trouble ; but they are sometimes the victims 
 of a conspiracy." 
 
 " I should think it would afford you pleasure 
 to defend the innocent." 
 
 " It does; especially when I am sure that they 
 are innocent before I undertake the defense. I 
 am sometimes in doubt, and cannot work with a 
 will." 
 
 " Do you consider it unprofessional to defend 
 a guilty man?" 
 
 "It is not unprofessional; yet it is better that 
 an attorney should believe his client innocent, if 
 possible." 
 
 They rode on in silence for a few minutes, 
 when Bessie pointed out a neat little cottage by 
 the roadside. 
 
 "There is where we live." 
 
 " Does your brother live alone when you are 
 teaching? " 
 
 "No, sir. Mrs. Deford lives in the house 
 with us. She is very kind to Harry when I in 
 away." 
 
 "Mrs. Henry Deford?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " She is a rough diamond. She used to live in 
 
James Wells. 105 
 
 Elton, and I remember her kindness to me when 
 1 was a little boy." 
 
 " You will come in and see your old friend? " 
 
 " Yes, Miss Jones. And I want to meet your 
 brother, and learn his condition." 
 
 Bessie conducted Mr. Wells to her brother s 
 room and introduced him. Harry was reserved, 
 but he could not help admiring the fine-looking 
 Congressman. Bessie had told her brother a 
 great deal about James, gleaned from her con 
 versations with Mrs. Love, and had thus 
 disarmed much of his prejudice against the 
 son of Deacon Wells. He knew that James 
 left home because he could not indorse his 
 father s evil ways, and he knew of his many 
 acts of kindness; yet he looked upon Bessie s 
 suit against the Deacon as a family quarrel, and 
 he was slightly embarrassed when Bessie intro 
 duced him. 
 
 " Are you better, Harry? " 
 
 " Much better, sister, though I have not been 
 really sick." 
 
 Sick enough to want me, weren t you?" 
 
 "I want you always, Bessie; but I told John 
 to tell you not to worry." 
 
io6 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 "He delivered your message; jet I learned 
 from him that you looked paler than usual, and 
 was suffering from the pain in your leer." 
 
 "The pain has left me, Bessie; and while I 
 am glad to see you, I m almost sorry you came." 
 
 u We will differ on that point, Mr. Jones. I 
 am not sorry she came." 
 
 " I have enjoyed the ride very much, and am 
 going to enjoy my visit. 7 
 
 " Thank you. But I do n t want you to enjoy 
 too much. If your brother will let me have my 
 way, I will take him to Berwick, and have him 
 back in two hours. I will then go to Melton, 
 get through with my business, and call for you 
 about six o clock. This arrangement will give 
 you half the day with your brother, and I am 
 sure this bracing air will benefit him." 
 
 Harry hesitated. A glance at Bessie s face 
 told him plainly that she wanted him to go, and 
 he accepted the invitation. 
 
 " While you are getting ready, I will step in 
 and see Mrs. Deford." 
 
 " Good morning, Mrs. Deford." 
 
James Wells. 107 
 
 " Well, I declare! You ve got the disadvant 
 age of me. I believe I don t know you." 
 
 " Do n t you remember the boy that helped 
 Isaac shear your gray sheep?" 
 
 James showed the scar on his wrist that the 
 kind-hearted old woman had tied up twenty 
 years ago. 
 
 " I declare to grashus ! Be you little Jimmy 
 Wells?" 
 
 "Jimmy Wells, but no longer little. I 
 weigh a hundred and eighty pounds." 
 
 " Who d a thought you d been a great big 
 boy so soon? " 
 
 " That was twenty years ago, Mrs. Deford." 
 
 " So t was ; and that gash you got with the 
 sheep shears still sticks by you? " 
 
 " Yes, ma am. I keep it to remember you 
 and Isaac by." 
 
 " What a time you and Ike did have shearin 
 that old gray sheep, to be shure." 
 
 " That old gray sheep was a tough customer, 
 Aunty." 
 
 " So he was.. I biled one of his hind quarters 
 a hull day, and then t was so tough I had to 
 bake it. Ike sold the fore quarters, and give the 
 
io8 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 other liind quarter to our minister. Ike and the 
 minister was allers havin tilts with each other, 
 you know. A wile after ards, Ike asked the 
 minister how he liked his lamb, and the min 
 ister told him it was tender compared to the 
 heart of a man that would kill a old, gray- 
 headed sheep, sell the pelt, and give the sole 
 leather to the minister. He asked Ike why he 
 didn t keep the mutton, and have his boots half- 
 soled with it. Ike told him he had whole-sold 
 a minister, and that was better n half-solin his 
 boots. And so they had it; but the minister 
 was jest as good as he could be, if he wan t 
 sharp enough for Ike." 
 
 "Yes, Aunty; Elder Cole was a good man." 
 " So he was. He was always sound in doctriu 
 if he wan t so very flowery; and I knit him a 
 pair of good, warm stockins out of that gray 
 wool, and run em, heel and toe; and don t you 
 think, I ve got stockins in the house, this minit, 
 that was knit from that identical sheep, and a 
 ball of yarn besides, and if ever you git marrid 
 I 11 knit your fust baby a pair of stockins with 
 it. Maybe I can t size em jest right, for its a 
 long time sense I ve knit a stockin for a baby; 
 
James Wells. 109 
 
 but I 11 make em big enough so it can grow 
 to em." 
 
 " Thank you. I think I shall not need them 
 for several years." 
 
 "They say you ve gone to Congress, and 
 maybe you 11 find somebody there that 11 take 
 your eye." 
 
 " I was elected last fall, but 1 ve not been to 
 Washington yet. I shall probably go next 
 week." 
 
 " I allers felt that you d be one of the elect. 
 Don t let them high-steppin chaps spile you, 
 Jimmy. They say they re a bad set." 
 
 " I 11 look out for them, Aunty. Good bye." 
 
 "Good bye, Jimmy. Kemember, I m goin 
 to knit them stockins for your fust baby." 
 
 " I will remember." 
 
 James carefully tucked the warm robes about 
 Harry s feet, bade Bessie good bye, and started 
 for Berwick. The blacks did not attempt to run, 
 and Bessie was relieved from her anxiety as they 
 started off in a gentle trot, She knew that 
 Harry could not "jump out behind." 
 
TI A Century of Gossip. 
 
 Under the exhilarating influence of the brac 
 ing air arid pleasant ride, Harry was happy 
 and communicative. James soon discovered 
 that his mind was stored with useful knowl 
 edge, and he was surprised to learn how much 
 he knew of the great world in which he mingled 
 so little. They discussed politics, theology, and 
 metaphysics. On these subjects Harry evinced 
 a thorough knowledge, the result of careful 
 research and deep thought. James was de 
 lighted. He directed the conversation from 
 one subject to another with a nice discern 
 ment, that would have done credit to an 
 accomplished diplomat, and was pleased to 
 learn that Bessie and Harry were familiar with 
 the French, German, Latin, and Greek lan 
 guages. 
 
 " How does Bessie find time to prosecute her 
 studies and teach school?" 
 
 "She studies very hard during her three- 
 months vacation, and devotes a portion of her 
 evenings to the languages while teaching." 
 
 " That is the pursuit of knowledge under diffi 
 culties." 
 
 " Yes, sir. Greek Without a Master > will do 
 
James Wells. 1 1 1 
 
 to talk about, but it is difficult to master Greek, 
 though Bessie will do it. She is very anxious 
 to become proficient in the languages." 
 
 " Is she studying with a view to teaching the 
 languages? " 
 
 u Yes, sir. She thinks that teaching will be 
 ner life-work." 
 
 " It is a hard life, Harry." 
 
 "So it is; but Bessie says it has its compen 
 sations." 
 
 That moment James Wells resolved that, if he 
 could prevent it, Bessie Jones should not wear her 
 life out in teaching Latin and Greek. Visions 
 of a select school, with a limited number of 
 pupils, floated through his mind, and he fondly 
 hoped that he might need "them stockins" 
 before many years rolled around. 
 
 He was detained but a short time in Berwick, 
 and he landed Harry at his home before twelve. 
 A happy party partook of the meal that Bessie 
 had prepared. The ride sharpened their appe 
 tites, and the viands, prepared with skill and 
 spiced by interesting conversation, disappeared 
 with a rapidity that would have gladdened the 
 heart of an experienced cook. At half past one 
 
I I 2 y4 Century of Gossip. 
 
 o clock James started for Melton. His business 
 was soon disposed of, but he did not wish to 
 return at once. The moon would shine in the 
 evening, and by starting from Melton at five 
 o clock he would reach Mrs. Love s before nine. 
 This would give the orphans another hour 
 together, and he felt that every moment was 
 precious to them. He strolled into a book store 
 and whiled away the hour in examining the 
 latest publications. Selecting three one for 
 himself, and one each for Bessie and Harry 
 he started for home, anticipating a pleasant talk 
 with Bessie. When he reached her, he learned 
 that she and Harry were waiting for him to sup 
 with them, and he gladly accepted the cordial 
 invitation. After supper he presented the books, 
 which were thankfully received. This led to a 
 discussion of the merits of prominent authors, 
 and all were unmindful of the flight of time 
 until the clock struck nine. James was surprised 
 at the lateness of the hour, and was about to 
 apologize, when it occurred to him that an 
 apology was not required. He suggested that 
 Mrs. Love would grow weary of waiting for 
 them, and proposed to start at once. Harry 
 
James Wells. 113 
 
 urged them to stay, James regretted that they 
 could not remain, and Bessie was silent, feeling 
 that she was " only a passenger." 
 
 As James and Bessie bade Harry good night, 
 Mrs. Deford came to the door: 
 
 " Do n t forgit to let me know when you want 
 them baby stockins, Jimmy." 
 
 "I will not forget, Mrs. Deford. Good bye." 
 
 " Good bye. And keep your eyes peeled for 
 them high-steppers in Congress. The papers 
 say they re an ungodly set, and do nothin 
 but eat biled oysters and drink shampain. 
 Don t let em spile you, Jimmy." 
 
 " I 11 give them a wide berth, Aunty." 
 
 " Jess so. Let em sleep on the floor, if they 
 will. It s good enough for em." 
 
 "Mrs. Deford s opinion of Congressmen is 
 not nattering, Mr. Wells." 
 
 " No, ma am; but it may not be incorrect." 
 
 " I hope you will find them better than her 
 picture." 
 
 " I trust they are not much worse than other 
 men; yet, judging from reports, they spend too 
 much time at the festive board. I have not an 
 
 exalted opinion of Washington society, though 
 
 8 
 
114 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 there are, doubtless, many good men in Con 
 gress." 
 
 "When do you go?" 
 
 " The last of next week." 
 
 "So soon?" 
 
 " Yes, ma am. I want to reach Washington 
 two or three days before the opening." 
 
 Why did Bessie say " So soon ? " Why should 
 the time of Mr. Wells departure interest her? 
 Did she already love the man whom she had, 
 that morning, almost feared to meet? 
 
 " How long will you remain? " 
 
 " Until next summer." 
 
 "Will -it not interfere with your professional 
 duties?" 
 
 "Somewhat; but I regret, more than all, that 
 I cannot visit Augusta, this winter, in the inter 
 est of the Educational bill." 
 
 " I hope that bill will be adopted by the Leg 
 islature. It will reform our present system ; but 
 it seems to me that there is an important feature 
 omitted." 
 
 "What is that?" 
 
 " Uniformity in our text books." 
 
 "Is it practicable?" 
 
James Wells. 115 
 
 " I think so. At present too much is left to 
 the discretion of the teacher. It is not uncom 
 mon to find pupils well advanced in algebra and 
 totally ignorant of grammar and rhetoric, while 
 in many schools physiology is not even intro 
 duced/ 
 
 u You are right, Miss Jones, and I thank you 
 for the suggestion. I shall write to the chair 
 man of the committee, and will endeavor to have 
 your idea ingrafted in the bill. New England 
 educators have an inherent fondness for mathe 
 matics, and many of them lose sight of other 
 important branches, in their anxiety to make 
 their pupils proficient in algebra." 
 
 " I do n t think the inborn veneration for 
 mathematics is confined to New England edu 
 cators, Mr. Wells. It exists in the West and 
 South." 
 
 "Many of the educators in the West and 
 South are Yankees, Miss Jones." 
 
 " True ; but in the West, especially, many of 
 the teachers are natives, and they still cling to 
 mathematics with, all the tenacity of a New 
 England pedagogue." 
 
 "It is not taught in the West, as in New 
 
1 1 6 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 England, at the expense of many other useful 
 branches." 
 
 " Not to the same extent, perhaps; but it is 
 permitted to encroach upon important studies in 
 the West, as elsewhere. "While it should not be 
 neglected, it is certainly unwise to require a 
 pupil to spend three-fourths of the time devoted 
 to study in attempting to master mathematics." 
 
 " What, in your opinion, is the most impor 
 tant study, Miss Jones? " 
 
 " I should hesitate in giving precedence to any 
 particular branch, Mr. Wells; but I think that 
 if time spent in working out the difficult and 
 impractical problems of higher mathematics, 
 and locating obscure rivers in Asia, were de 
 voted to grammar, rhetoric, physiology, and the 
 science of government, it would be infinitely 
 better for the pupil." 
 
 " Does not a thorough knowledge of mathe 
 matics make a good foundation for an education ?" 
 
 "Yes, sir; but as taught under our system, it 
 is much like preparing a granite foundation for 
 a cob house." 
 
 "With woman s tact, you have settled the 
 question by comparison." 
 
James Wells. 
 
 " Women do not think as inucli as men, and 
 are apt to reason by comparison." 
 
 "You have, evidently, thought much about 
 education/ 
 
 "Because it is my business. While my 
 thoughts are circumscribed, yours are not con 
 fined to the law." 
 
 "The wide range of our discussion to-day 
 proves that your thoughts are not circum 
 scribed." 
 
 You forget that my part of the discussion 
 was confined to asking questions." 
 
 " By no means. You have taught me several 
 important lessons." 
 
 " Then you are my first advanced pupil. Seri 
 ously, I am of the opinion that women are not 
 bold thinkers. Men originate and women copy. 
 We rarely invent anything, and seldom succeed 
 in a field that requires deep thought and origi 
 nality, while as copyists we can successfully 
 contest the honors with the sterner sex." 
 
 u You have not had equal opportunities." 
 
 "We have not improved tho opportunities 
 that are given us. Take, for instance, the 
 science of music. Woman can perform the 
 
1 1 8 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 most difficult productions with a clearness of 
 conception, and fineness of touch, that proves 
 her execution faultless, vet she has not risen to 
 eminence as a composer. You will concede that, 
 in this department, more attention is paid to the 
 education of women than men ? " 
 
 "And if I do, how will you account for 
 woman s failure?" 
 
 "There are several reasons why she does not 
 succeed. She is not a free thinker, and she is 
 hampered by petty cares." 
 
 " All women "are not 4 hampered by petty 
 cares, Miss Jones." 
 
 " Some are comparatively free, yet none abso 
 lutely untrarameled. Much of woman s time is 
 spent in ornamenting her wardrobe and making 
 pastry." 
 
 "Then you do not believe in making pastry? " 
 
 " I think more potatoes and less pastry would 
 be better for both sexes." 
 
 "And you advocate dress reform?" 
 
 " I believe in dress reform, though I do not 
 advocate it. So much has been said on the sub 
 ject, that it is already hackneyed, and the 
 discussion is barren of good results." 
 
James Wells. IIQ 
 
 " All reforms are brought about by discussion. 
 I think the intelligent women of America will 
 finally inaugurate a reform in dress." 
 
 "The intelligent women of America yield 
 implicit obedience to the dictates of Fashion, 
 Mr. Wells, and I have little hope of reform. 
 Man would not suffer so much inconvenience, 
 but woman dares not assert her independence. 
 And, then, the subject of dress reform has been 
 discussed in connection with the suffrage ques 
 tion until both are odious in the minds of many 
 sensible women." 
 
 " Then you do not believe in woman s rights? " 
 
 " Not as you construe the term. I believe 
 that when a woman does her work equally as 
 well as a man, she should receive a man s wages. 
 I believe that a married woman should have the 
 right to make contracts and hold property inde 
 pendent of her husband ; but I cannot see how 
 she will be benefited by suffrage. Certainly not 
 by agitating the muddy waters of party politics." 
 
 u Give woman the right of suffrage, and 
 will she not bring about the reforms you 
 mention?" 
 
 " I think not. Men will lead and women will 
 
A Century of Gossip. 
 
 follow. Nine-tenths of the married women will 
 vote with their husbands, and the others will 
 not go to the polls. The time spent in dis 
 cussing the suffrage question could be more 
 profitably spent in advocating necessary reforms. 
 . Men will deal justly with us when they learn 
 our real needs. They are simply blinded by the 
 dust of the suffrage question." 
 
 "I think there are many matters in which 
 woman should feel a deeper interest than in the 
 question of suffrage. Our laws relating to the 
 rights of married w T ornen are unjust and oppres 
 sive. In case of the husband s death, she is the 
 natural, but not the lawful, guardian of her own 
 children, while the law makes the father the 
 guardian of his children whether the mother be 
 living or dead. There are many other cases of 
 unjust discrimination between husbands and 
 wives. Many of the Western States are far in 
 advance of us in righting these matters." 
 
 " Yes, sir. Our people are eminently conserv 
 ative, and very slow to adopt even needed 
 
 reforms." 
 
 \ 
 
 The discussion was continued until they 
 reached Mrs. Love s. The weather had moder- 
 
James Wells. 121 
 
 ated, the moon was shining brightly, and James 
 intentionally protracted the ride. 
 
 "Have you been sitting up for us, Mrs. 
 Love?" 
 
 " Xot long. It is so pleasant that I did n t 
 expect you home early. Come in and get a 
 lunch, Mr. Wells. I have a cup of hot tea, 
 some warm muffins, and a plate of doughnuts, 
 for you and Bessie." 
 
 James did not try to resist the temptation to 
 spend another hour with Bessie. Like a sensi 
 ble man, he tied his horses and went in. 
 
 " Did you enjoy your ride, Bessie? " 
 
 "Very much; and I am under obligations to 
 you for suggesting to Mr. Wells that I wanted 
 to go." 
 
 "How is Harry?" 
 
 " Much better, thank you. He went to Ber 
 wick with Mr. Wells, and the ride did him so 
 much good." 
 
 " Then we were both benefited, Miss Jones. I 
 enjoyed his company exceedingly." 
 
 " I am so glad you all had a good time. Now 
 give me your wraps, and see if you can enjoy 
 my muffins." 
 
122 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 "I can t answer for Miss Jones; but you 
 know that I always enjoy them, Mrs. Love, 
 and I imagine they will be especially enjoyable 
 to-night." 
 
 "I hope so; for I feel like having a good chat 
 with yon. You call so seldom, lately, Mr. 
 Wells." 
 
 " I have been very busy, Mrs. Love. I shall 
 call again before I leave home." 
 
 " You used to call every week." 
 
 " I had plenty of leisure then. Clients were 
 not numerous ; and I was glad to borrow a little 
 sunshine from you." 
 
 " You have returned it with interest." 
 
 " Thank you." 
 
 The trio "enjoyed the muffins" and the tea. 
 , There is an indescribable exhilaration in a cup 
 of tea, that is not confined to the fair sex. The 
 " lords of creation" may disclaim and call it 
 woman s beverage, but they feel its potent influ 
 ence, and relish its trimmings of gossip. The 
 little party that gathered around Mrs. Love s 
 bright fire-place took tea without trimmings, 
 but the stream of interesting conversation 
 flowed for an hour without interruption, when 
 
James Wells. 123 
 
 James reluctantly bade the jolly hostess and the 
 happy schoolma am good night. 
 
 During the next week James had business 
 with Mrs. Love almost every evening. It was 
 dispatched with remarkable rapidity, and he 
 devoted most of the time to Bessie. On Mon 
 day evening she gave directions about the 
 collection of a small note. On Tuesday, 
 Wednesday, and Thursday evenings he came 
 for additional instructions. There was a merry 
 twinkle in the widow s eyes as she admitted him 
 on Thursday evening. She answered his unim 
 portant question about "that note," plead a 
 severe headache, and asked to be excused. Her 
 request was granted with seeming reluctance. 
 If you are a genuine Yankee, dear reader, you 
 " guess " it was only seeming. 
 
 " Good bye, Bessie. Shall I write to you? " 
 " It will afford me pleasure to hear from you 
 often." 
 
CHAPTEE VI. 
 
 THE FORGERY. 
 
 ELLO, JACK ; would n t you like to be 
 a Justice of the Peace?" 
 "I don t know. Is there any money 
 
 in it?" 
 
 " Some money, and lots of onner." 
 
 * 4 How 11 I git the office, Deacon? " 
 
 " I 11 git Squire Gray to write to the Govner 
 
 and git you appinted. Squire Blunt will sound 
 
 kind o good." 
 
 "What does the Govner care about Squire 
 
 Gray?" 
 
 " Squire Gray helped him in the nominashun, 
 
 and t ain t very hard to git a Justice appinted 
 
 if the fust person that moves in it has innocence, 
 
 and that s me." 
 
 "Well, I ain t a carin , Deacon; but there s 
 
 Squire Shaw don t make enough out o the 
 
 office to buy salt for his porridge." 
 
 (124) 
 
The Forgery. 125 
 
 "You -11 make more nor him. I ve got a 
 twenty-five-dollar job for you to begin with, and 
 I 11 give you lots o notes to sue on." 
 
 "All right. Bring along your office. I ll 
 take it/ 
 
 "I ll go and see Squire Gray, and git you 
 
 appinted." 
 
 -What is that little job you spoke of, 
 
 Deacon?" 
 
 "Time enough to tell you about that when 
 you re a actin Justice, Jack. I ain t noted for 
 talkin too much, like some people I know of. 
 
 u Air you alludin to me, Deacon T 
 
 " If the shoe fits you, you can wear it a little 
 wile, Jack; but we won t quarrel about that. 
 Let by-gones be by-gones; but look out for by 
 gones in the futer." 
 
 " I can keep my tongue still when its ankered 
 with silver/ 
 
 "But it takes too heavy a anker, Jack. 
 You ve got more n a hundred dollars out o 
 me, and if there s anybody what orter keep 
 his tongue atween his teeth, it s Jack Blunt." 
 
 u And I ve made you more *n a thousand dol 
 lars, Deacon." 
 
126 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 " There s where you re rattled. I made all 
 my own money accordin to law, as everybody 
 knows." 
 
 " I guess you made some of it accordin to 
 Jack Blunt and Tom Siddons. Don t you 
 remember that Jones bizness?" 
 
 " The less you say about that Jones bizness 
 the better you 11 be off, Jack. Apprisin a place 
 for one-third it s wuth is a penitenshary offense, 
 and you d better keep mum. 1 
 
 " If I was in State s prison, where would you 
 be, Deacon?" 
 
 " In Elton, I s pose.. They can t tetcli me for 
 buyin property at the apprisement" 
 
 " If they found out that you paid me and Tom 
 Siddons fifty dollars for apprisin of it, I guess 
 they d take you along with us." 
 
 "No they wouldn t, Jack. I ve perceeded 
 accordin to law, as I allers do; but there s no 
 use talkin about that. Keep mum, and stick to 
 the goose that lays the golden aig." 
 
 " I will; but I want a little of the aig once in 
 a wile." 
 
 " You shall have it, Jack." 
 
The Forgery. 127 
 
 " Elijah, put the saddle on old Charley for me. 
 I in goin down to Squire Gray s/ 
 
 "What s in the wind now, father?" 
 
 " I want him to git Jack Blunt appinted Jus 
 tice of the Peace." 
 
 "Why don t you git a holler fence pole 
 appinted? " 
 
 " Xo nonsense, Elijah. Jack Blunt is the 
 makin of a good Squire." 
 
 " He do n t know nothin about law." 
 
 " Squires don t need to." 
 
 u Jack Blunt ain t overly onest." 
 
 "If he was, I wouldn t want him appinted, 
 Elijah." 
 
 "Oh, ho! There s somethin brewing father. 
 Can t ye tell a feller? " 
 
 " Not jest yet. I 11 show you them four aces 
 bimeby." 
 
 The Deacon interviewed Esquire Gray, and a 
 petition for the appointment of Jack Blunt was 
 sent to the Governor. The Esquire s nerves 
 were steady when he wrote: "Mr. Blunt pos 
 sesses, in an eminent degree, the Jeffersonian 
 qualifications." The Governor brought the 
 matter up in Council, vouched for Jack Blunt, 
 
128 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 and in due time his commission was forwarded. 
 A shrewd politician never kicks down the ladder 
 by which he ascends, and Esquire Gray is one 
 of the rounds of the Governor s ladder. 
 
 "Patience, go up stairs. Me and Elijah has a 
 little privacy, and wimmin has no bizness round 
 when there s privacy goin on." 
 
 Patience Wells left the room with a heavy 
 heart. She knew that "little privacy" meant 
 fraud, and she could not prevent it. 
 
 " Elijah, have you got that deed you writ out 
 for Bessie Jones to sign?" 
 
 " Yes, sir. It s on the top shelf in the parler 
 cubberd." 
 
 "Jack Blunt has got his appintment, and 
 we 11 take it up to his house, sign Bessie s name 
 to it, and git Jack to acknolige it." 
 
 " Won t we git into a scrape? " 
 
 ; No, indeed. There 11 be Jack s acknolig- 
 inent to prove she signed it herself; do n t you 
 see?" 
 
 " Oh, yes. You ve got them four aces, shure 
 enough. 
 
0/1 *-*- CO . 
 
 II sign it myself, lean write smallish, like a woman." 
 
 - PAGE 130. 
 
The Forgery. 129 
 
 " I allers hold em when they re needful, 
 Elijah." 
 
 " You do; shure s you re born." 
 
 " And there s nobody knows no better how to 
 play em than your old father, Elijah." 
 
 " You can beat the man that made em, 
 father." 
 
 " Now, Jack, send that gal of yourn out o the 
 house. We re on bizness." 
 
 " Nellie is busy in the kitchen, Deacon, and 
 she won t be in here." 
 
 " Gals is allers peekin" 1 round, Squire Blunt, 
 and you d better send her to the neighbors." 
 
 u She won t send wuth a cent, Deacon, and 
 we 11 go up stairs and lock the door. She 11 
 think somethin s in the wind if we send her 
 away." 
 
 "Gals orter be trained up to mind, Jack; but 
 if it s all safe up stairs, we 11 go. Bring a pen 
 and ink along." 
 
 " All right." 
 
 The three villains went up to the little cham 
 ber. Jack locked the door, and the Deacon told 
 
130 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 him what he expected him to do. He assented, 
 and Elijah produced the deed. 
 
 " Now sign Bessie Joneses name to it, Elijah." 
 
 "That won t do, Deacon. It must be a dif 
 ferent hand-writin from the deed." 
 
 "That s so, Jack. You will have to sign 
 it." 
 
 "That won t do nuther. My writin will be 
 in the acknoligment." 
 
 " I will sign it myself. I can write smallish, 
 like a woman." 
 
 Deacon Wells signed Bessie s name to the 
 deed. Jack Blunt wrote the acknowledgment, 
 and the old Deacon placed the instrument in 
 his side pocket. 
 
 " Now we Ve got er. Less go home, Elijah." 
 
 "Hold on, Deacon. You re forgittin that 
 twenty -live dollars, and I m for gittin 1 it/ 
 
 u You re rather hard on me, Jack. I kalker- 
 late fifteen dollars is a big price; don t you, 
 Elijah?" 
 
 " You orter to do that little writin for ten, 
 Jack, and that is a orful price." 
 
 "Your father promised me twenty-five dol 
 lars, Lige, and it s dirt cheap at that. Look at 
 
The Forgery. 131 
 
 the resk I m runnin by that little acknolig- 
 ment." 
 
 We run jest as much risk, and don t git a 
 cent for it." 
 
 "Don t, hey! What is that little dockeyment 
 wuth to you ? " 
 
 " T ain t wuth twenty-five dollars, Jack; but 
 here s your money. If ever this comes up in 
 court you 11 have to swear that Bessie Jones 
 signed the deed herself." 
 
 "But s posiir I don t swear to that, then 
 what?" 
 
 " You 11 be tried for forgin , and sent to the 
 penitenshary; that s all." 
 
 "When I go to the penitenshary for that little 
 writiii there 11 be a church in Elton lookin 
 round for a new deacon. Mind that." 
 
 " What 11 they want of a new deacon?" 
 
 " The old un will be learnin a trade with me." 
 
 " If you ain t a born fool, and afeared to swear, 
 you won t go to the penitenshary, Jack." 
 
 " Come, father, less go home. You need n t 
 be afeared of Jack. He 11 swear all right." 
 
 On their way home, Deacon Wells and his 
 son discussed Jack Blunt s character. 
 
132 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 " S posiir Jack should git ugly, father, he d 
 have us in a short row? " 
 
 "He ll not git ugly, Elijah. I know too 
 much agin him." 
 
 "Here s a letter from Squire Gray, Elijah. 
 He says the case of Bessie Jones agin Hezekiah 
 Wells is sot for day after to-morrer. We will 
 have to go to court. Won t they be took back 
 when they see that deed? Ketch a weesil asleep, 
 will ye?" 
 
 "We ve got ern, father." 
 
 " Yes; and we ll hold em, Elijah." 
 
 " Shure s you re born." 
 
 At the appointed time the case was called 
 and the trial commenced. Lawyer Ainsworth 
 proved, without difficulty, that no notice was 
 served on his client, and moved to set the sale 
 aside, so far as it affected the rights of Bessie 
 Jones. 
 
 Esquire Gray arose, with the air of a man who 
 feels that he can annihilate his opponent: 
 
 " May it please the Court, I have an objection 
 to interpose." 
 
The Forgery. 133 
 
 " State your objection." 
 
 "The sale is good so far as the interest of 
 Harry Jones is concerned, and we will save the 
 expense of another trial by introducing a quit 
 claim deed for Bessie s interest in her father s 
 place. Here is the deed, your Honor." 
 
 " Pass it to Mr. Ainsworth." 
 
 The practiced eye of Mr. Ainsworth detected 
 the forgery at once. The signature was coarse, 
 and evidently the work of a man s hand. It 
 was written "Besse" Jones, and he unhesita 
 tingly pronounced it a forgery. 
 
 Esquire Gray proposed to prove the execution 
 of the deed, and called Deacon Wells to the 
 witness stand. After the usual preliminary 
 questions, he asked: 
 
 " Deacon Wells, did you ever see this deed 
 before?" 
 
 " Ever see it afore? To be shure I have. I Ve 
 carried it in my pocket for nearly a year." 
 
 "Was it executed by the plaintiff, Bessie 
 Jones? " 
 
 " No, sir. It was executed by my Elijah, and 
 signed by Bessie Jones afore Squire Blunt. 
 The deed shows for itself." 
 
134 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 "Then it was written by your son, Elijah? " 
 " Yes, sir; Elijah writ it and Bessie signed it." 
 " Did you see her sign it? " 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Where did she sign it? " 
 
 "Afore Squire Blunt, in the little chamber, 
 up stairs." 
 
 "What was the consideration? " 
 
 " In consideraslmn of her duty, I s pose." 
 
 " But what did you pay her for her interest in 
 the property?" 
 
 "Elijah paid her; but I don t consider as she 
 had an intrust in it." 
 
 " How much did he pay her? " 
 
 " He give her a five-dollar dress; and that was 
 more n twas wuth." 
 
 " Where did he give her the dress? " 
 
 " To Squire Blunt s, the mornin she signed 
 the deed." 
 
 " Did any one besides you and Squire Blunt 
 see her sign the deed?" 
 
 " Yes, sir. Elijah see her. He s over to Jim 
 Hickey s bakin 1 shop, and he 11 come and swear 
 to it." 
 
 " You can take the witness, Mr. Airisworth." 
 
The Forgery. 135 
 
 Mr. Ainsworth talked a moment with Bessie, 
 
 and commenced the cross-examination: 
 
 " You are very sure that you saw Bessie Jones 
 
 sign this deed? " 
 
 "Yes, sir; as shure s my name s Hezekiah 
 
 Wells." 
 
 "What time in the afternoon did she sign it? " 
 "About one o clock; jest afore her skule 
 
 called." 
 
 "And she signed it in presence of Squire 
 
 Blunt and Elijah?" 
 
 " Yes, sir. Squire Blunt, Elijah and me was 
 
 present." 
 
 " Do you know Squire Blunt to be a regularly 
 
 commissioned Justice of the Peace?" 
 
 " I orter know it. I was the fust man that 
 
 moved in gittiii him appinted." 
 
 "Then he was appointed by your request?" 
 
 " Yes, sir. Mine and Squire Gray s." 
 
 " Can you spell Bessie Jones name? " 
 
 " I guess so. Anybody that knows anything 
 
 about spellin can do that." 
 
 "You may spell it, if you please, Deacon." 
 " B-e-s Bes s-e se, Besse, J-o-n-e-s Jones, Besse 
 
 Jones." 
 
136 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 "That will do, Deacon." 
 
 Deacon "Wells left the stand with a self-satis 
 fied air, failing to notice the broad grin that 
 came so near demoralizing the Bench and Bar. 
 Elijah Wells was called, and Esquire Gray pro 
 ceeded with his "proof." 
 
 "Elijah, did yon ever see this instrument 
 before? 1 
 
 "What! that deed?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " Guess I have, Squire. I writ it." 
 
 "Who signed it?" 
 
 "Bessie Jones." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 "At Widow Love s." 
 
 "Was Mrs. Love present?" 
 
 " No, sir. She runs round to the neighbors a 
 good deal." 
 
 "What was the consideration?" 
 
 "The what?" 
 
 "What did you pay her for signing the deed? " 
 
 " I did n t pay her nothin for signiir the deed. 
 I give her twenty -five dollars for her quit-claim 
 to her intrust in the place that already belonged 
 to dad." 
 
The Forgery. 137 
 
 " Were von present when she signed the 
 deed?" 
 
 "To be shure I were." 
 
 "And twenty-five dollars was the considera 
 tion?" 
 
 "I s pose that s what yon call it. I know I 
 give her the money." 
 
 " You can take the witness, Mr. Ainsworth." 
 
 " Your name is Elijah Wells? " 
 
 "Jess so." 
 
 "You are the son of Deacon Hezekiah 
 Wells?" 
 
 "So they say." 
 
 " And you wrote that deed? " 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " Who asked you to write it? " 
 
 "Dad." 
 
 "Where did you get the description of the 
 land?" 
 
 " I took the deed the Sheriff give dad, and 
 w r rit it jest like it." 
 
 " You say you were present when the deed was 
 signed?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " And it was signed at Mrs. Love s? " 
 
138 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Was-your father present? " 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 "Was Squire Blunt there? " 
 
 "No, sir. Bessie went afore Jack Blunt to 
 acknolige the deed, but he wan t there when she 
 signed it." 
 
 "When was it signed?" 
 
 "I don t jest remember. Somethin 1 like two 
 weeks ago. T was the day Jack Blunt got his 
 appintment." 
 
 " How do you know it was on that day? " 
 
 " Cause dad told me Jack had jest got his 
 papers, and we d go up and sign the deed." 
 
 "Go up to Jack s house and sign the deed?" 
 
 " No, sir. Go and git it acknoliged." 
 
 "And you went up?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Who did you find at Squire Blunt s?" 
 
 " Nobody but Jack. Nellie was in the 
 kitchen." 
 
 "Who went with you?" 
 
 " Dad." 
 
 " Then you and your father were the only per 
 sons present when the deed was acknowledged? " 
 
The Forgery. 139 
 
 "Jess so/ 
 
 "Where was Bessie Jones? " 
 
 "Teechin skule, I s pose." 
 
 "Who paid Squire Blunt for taking the 
 acknowledgment? " 
 
 " Dad paid him twenty -five dollars for it. It 
 was a orful price, and I told Jack so." 
 
 " Did your father grumble at the price?" 
 
 " He sort o tried to git Jack to come down, 
 but he did n t come down wuth a cent." 
 
 u What reason did he give for charging such 
 an exorbitant price for taking an acknowledg 
 ment?" 
 
 " There was nothin said about that kind of a 
 price. Jack claimed that dad promised him 
 twenty-five dollars, and he stuck and hung for 
 it like a hungry cat in butcherin time." 
 
 " Do you know what induced your father to 
 promise such a sum?" 
 
 " No, sir. I could got it done for ten if I d 
 made the bargin." 
 
 " You like to make a good bargain, do you 
 not, Elijah?" 
 
 " Yes, sir. But I hain t such a hankerin that 
 way as some folks." 
 
140 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 "Yet you bought Bessie Jones interest in the 
 old homestead very low? " 
 
 "Yes, sir; but that was because dad owned it 
 afore. I do n t count that a sharp bargin, but I 
 often make em burin yearlin s and clam priv- 
 leges." 
 
 "That will do, Elijah. You may stand 
 aside." 
 
 " Can I set down, if I want to?" 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 Bessie Jones was called, and stated that she 
 never conveyed her interest in the old home 
 stead. Esquire Gray knew that she told the 
 truth, and he did not cross-examine her. Dea 
 con Wells wanted Jack Blunt to " take a swear 
 at the case," but Jack could not be found. The 
 sale was set aside, and Bessie Jones was declared 
 the owner of the undivided one-half of the 
 homestead in fee simple. 
 
 Deacon Wells started home in an ill humor. 
 He had played a desperate game, and lost. He 
 did not think of the consequences of his crime. 
 He had lost five thousand dollars. 
 
 "Well, father, that s the fust time I ever 
 knowed four aces beat." 
 
The Forgery. 141 
 
 " Yon conterdicted my evidence, Elijah, and 
 Jack Blunt wan t there to swear." 
 
 " How did I know what you was goin to swear 
 to, father?" 
 
 " If you d been in the court room instead of 
 munchin pies at Jim Hickey s, you d a knowed 
 how to swear." 
 
 " I was hungry, and I had to have sometliin 
 to eat." 
 
 " If you d put a doughnut in your pocket, 
 instead of spendhr your money at Jim Hickey s, 
 you d be better off. I 11 have to sell my bank 
 stock to pay Bessie Jones." 
 
 " What will you have to pay her, father? " 
 
 " Squire Gray thinks he can git round her 
 and git a deed for three thousand dollars; but 
 that is a good deal of money, Elijah, and we ll 
 have to cut close to save it up." 
 
 " The mill will make it in two years. It s 
 clearin more n fifteen hundred a year." 
 
 " Three thousand dollars is a big pile. I 11 
 ask him to try her on two." 
 
 " Here s a deed for your undivided half of the 
 
142 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 old place, Miss Jones. I have put the sum of 
 three thousand dollars as the consideration. 
 That sum will be clear. The sale will stand 
 as it was originally made; that is, the Deacon 
 will have no recourse on you for the recovery of 
 a part of the original purchase money, which 
 went to pay your father s debts. The price is 
 what I consider fa r, under the circumstances, 
 and if it suits you, you may sign the deed." 
 
 "I want to deal justly with Deacon Wells, 
 notwithstanding his attempt to defraud me; but 
 I don t know what I ought to ask for my 
 interest in the property. I shall leave the 
 matter with Mr. Ainsworth." 
 
 " You d better fix the price yourself, Miss 
 Jones. Some lawyers do n t always do the best 
 thing for their clients." 
 
 " I have confidence in Mr. Ainsworth, and I 
 am sure he will be just to all parties concerned." 
 
 Esquire Gray left Bessie Jones feeling that he 
 was already foiled. He could not persuade Mr. 
 Ainsworth to take a penny less than the full 
 value of the property; but he must try, for his 
 client expected it. He took the morning stage 
 for Glenville. 
 
The Forgery. 143 
 
 "Plow do you do, Mr. Ainsworth ? Are you 
 very busy to-day?" 
 
 " Very well, and not too busy to smoke with 
 you. Sit down." 
 
 " I came to talk with you about that Jones 
 property. Bessie says you are authorized to 
 dispose of her interest." 
 
 " Yes, sir. By the way, Squire, that was a 
 very foolish piece of business, forging that deed. 
 It was a bungling job." 
 
 "Do you intend to prosecute him for it?" 
 
 " No. I have too much respect for James to 
 assist in prosecuting his father; but the Grand 
 Jury will probably indict him." 
 
 " I hope the matter will be dropped." 
 
 " They will hardly pass by such an offense. It 
 is in everybody s mouth. But what proposition 
 do you make about the property? " 
 
 " I thought about three thousand dollars would 
 be a fair price for it, considering all the circum 
 stances. I suppose Bessie would be held for 
 one-half her father s debts, and three thousand 
 dollars would be about right for a quit-claim 
 deed." 
 
 ." Her father s debts are paid. If Deacon 
 
144 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 "Wells wants to convey his half of the property, 
 we will refund the purchase money with interest, 
 and ffive him a thousand dollars bonus. I have 
 
 O 
 
 been offered three thousand dollars for one-half 
 the hemlock bark." 
 
 "What is your lowest price for Bessie s 
 interest?" 
 
 " Eight thousand dollars." 
 
 " You can t find a purchaser at that price." 
 
 "Can t 11 I shall sell it for that sum before 
 next Saturday evening. Mark that." 
 
 " Good day, Mr. Ainsworth. I will state your 
 proposition to my client." 
 
 " Good day, Squire. Tell him to hurry up, if 
 he wants the place." 
 
 I will." 
 
 " Good morning, Deacon." 
 
 "How do do, Squire?" 
 
 " I went to see Bessie Jones, and she referred 
 me to Mr. Ainsworth. I went to Glenville to 
 see him, and he asks eight thousand dollars for 
 Bessie s interest." 
 
 u E-i-ff-h-t t-h-o-u-s-a-n-d d-o-l-l-a-r-s ! " 
 
The Forgery. 145 
 
 " Yes, sir. That is his lowest price." 
 
 " He 11 wait a long wile for a buyer, Squire." 
 
 " He says he will sell it before next Saturday 
 night." 
 
 " Who 11 pay that much for it? " 
 
 "I don t know; but he has his eye on a pur 
 chaser. He has been offered three thousand 
 dollars for Bessie s share of the hemlock bark." 
 
 "Three thousand dollars for the bark?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Squire Gray, Ainsworth is lyin to you." 
 
 " So he is, father. There s nobody that ud be 
 fool enough to pay three thousand dollars for all 
 the hemlock bark in Maine." 
 
 " Oh, yes, Elijah. The Shaws paid ten thou 
 sand dollars for the hemlock bark on the Belt 
 land." 
 
 " Do you believe Ainsworth was tellin you 
 the truth, Squire?" 
 
 " Yes, I do, Deacon. He says he will pay 
 your money back, with interest, and a thousand 
 dollars bonus, if you 11 convey your half of the 
 place." 
 
 " Take him up, father." 
 
 " Do n t gallup when you re goin 1 down hill, 
 10 
 
146 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 Elijah. The mill pays over fifteen hundred a 
 year." 
 
 " Perhaps you had better go and see Mr. Ains- 
 worth yourself, Deacon? 
 
 "Sol will. I ll go to-morrer." 
 
 The Deacon went to Glenville the next morn 
 ing, sold his bank stock, and bought Bessie s 
 interest from Mr. Ainsworth for the price 
 named, after trying for an hour to get it for less. 
 
 " Now, Mr. Ainsworth, Squire Gray says you 
 know a man that wants the hemlock bark on the 
 place?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "What 11 he give for it?" 
 
 " Six thousand dollars." 
 
 " Send him along, and I 11 give you a five- 
 dollar bill." 
 
 " I can t work so cheap as that, Deacon. I 
 wan t five per cent, for selling it." 
 
 "How much will that be?" 
 
 " Three hundred dollars." 
 
 u Three hundred dollars for sellin a little hem 
 lock bark?" 
 
 " Six thousand dollars is not a small sum for 
 bark." 
 
The Forgery. 147 
 
 " I guess I 11 keep the bark awile, Mr. Ains- 
 worth." 
 
 " All right. Let me know when you conclude 
 to sell it." 
 
 " Maybe I will." 
 
 Deacon Wells spent a week in riding about the 
 country, inquiring of every man he met if he 
 " knowed anybody that wanted to buy some hem 
 lock back." He tried to induce Esquire Gray to 
 go to Mr. Ainsworth and ask him about the 
 would-be purchaser; but he was informed that 
 Mr. Ainsworth was "up to snuff," and would 
 keep his secret until the Deacon consented to 
 pay the commission. He finally mounted old 
 Charley and visited Mr. Ainsworth. 
 
 "Good mornin , Mr. Ainsworth. I guess 
 hemlock bark won t go no higher this season, 
 and I ve concluded to let mine go, if you ll 
 do it for a hundred and fifty dollars." 
 
 " Can t do it, Deacon." 
 
 " Say two hundred." 
 
 "E"o, sir. Three hundred dollars is my 
 price." 
 
 "Three hundred tis, then; but it s a orful 
 price," 
 
148 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 " Six thousand is an < awful price for the bark, 
 Deacon." 
 
 " It s a purty fair price; but hemlock is hem 
 lock, now-a-days. You can keep five thousand 
 for the Bessie Jones morgidge, take out your 
 three hundred, and send me the other seven by 
 onest John, the stage driver." 
 
 "I have not seen Miss Jones since the trial; 
 but I shall advise her to let that mortgage run. 
 It is riot due for two years, you know." 
 
 "You don t want me to pay ten per cent, 
 intrust on that morgidge when I ll have the 
 money to take it up? That s bearin down too 
 hard." 
 
 "Our motto is: Do as you are done by, 
 Deacon." 
 
 " But it ain t accordin to Scripter." 
 
 " It is too late in the day to conduct this case 
 according to Scripture. It was n t started on a 
 Scriptural foundation." 
 
 " Maybe Bessie wants the money now." 
 
 " No, sir. She wrote me to retain my fee and 
 invest the balance for her." 
 
 " How much did you tax her, Mr. Ains- 
 worthi" 
 
The Forgery. 149 
 
 " Nothing. I thought you ought to pay her 
 attorney s fee, and my commission for selling 
 that bark will do it." 
 
 " You lawyers make the chips fly when you 
 git to chargin , don t you? 1 
 
 " Not always. Sometimes we simply take the 
 bark off." 
 
 "Ain t there a law agin takin such fees?" 
 
 "No, sir. It is lawful to charge for legal 
 services." 
 
 "I guess I ll go and settle with Squire 
 Gray." 
 
 Deacon Wells went home to " talk it over 
 with Elijah." 
 
 "They ve got us, father." 
 
 "Yes; and they ll hold us, Elijah." 
 
 " Shure s you re born." 
 
CHAPTEE VII. 
 
 IN THE SHOE SHOP. 
 
 BLUNT is crazy as a loon. She 
 tried to kill herself last night, and 
 they re goin to take her to the 
 hospittle." 
 
 "Who told you?" 
 
 "Lige Wells." 
 
 " Well, they 11 take Lige to a wus place than 
 that. He 11 go to State s prison, or the Prov 
 inces, before three months, for forgin Bessie 
 Joneses name to that deed." 
 
 "Wonder if Jim will try to clear him? " 
 
 " No. Jim will be to Congress when the 
 trial holds, and he won t come back to git 
 Lige out of a scrape." 
 
 " How do you know he won t? " 
 
 " T ain t nateral for him. He ain t that kind 
 
 of a feller." 
 
 (150) 
 
In the Shoe Shop. .151 
 
 " If Lige and the old Deacon depend on 
 Squire Gray to clear em, they ll havs a fust 
 rate chance to learn a trade." 
 
 "So they will, Sam; but they re too smart 
 for that. They 11 have a good lawyer." 
 
 " All the lawyers in Maine can t clear em. 
 The testimony is too strong agin em." 
 
 "Who are the witnesses?" 
 
 " Everybody knows they done it." . 
 
 " But everybody can t swear to it. Hearsay 
 evidence won t do in a court of justice." 
 
 " Bessie Jones will swear she did n t sign the 
 deed." 
 
 "Yes; and Jack Blunt will swear that Lige 
 or the old Deacon did." 
 
 " They are not indicted yet." 
 
 " But :hey will be when the Gran Jury 
 meets. Jack Blunt will go before em. He s 
 desprit sense Kelly got crazy." 
 
 " Wha; made her crazy?" 
 
 "You know that young teller that went out o 
 here one night last winter, as if he was sick?" 
 
 " Yes. You thought the tobacco smoke made 
 him sick, and Zach Brown said it was some 
 thing worse than that." 
 
152 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 " That s the chap. Well, he was ingaged to 
 Nell, and what he heered that evenin opened 
 his eyes, and he finally broke it off, and they 
 played quits. Nell stood it like a major for a 
 wile, but it finally upsot her, and she s got to go 
 to the crazy hospittle." 
 
 " That is some of the fruits of your gossip, 
 boys." 
 
 " T wan t us, Uncle Henry." 
 
 " Here is Zacli. Ask him who was here that 
 evening. 1 
 
 " Zach, who was here the evenin that young 
 preacher student got sick last winter? 
 
 Zach looked thoughtful for a moment, and 
 replied : 
 
 "All of us, and three or four others. Lige 
 Wells was here before the young fellow went 
 out. Why do you ask? " 
 
 " Uncle Henry says it was our gossip that 
 made Nell Blunt crazy." 
 
 "Uncle Henry is right. But for your slan 
 ders, Nellie Blunt would have been married 
 before this time. 
 
 " You said as much agin her as any of us, 
 Zach." 
 
In the Shoe Shop. 153 
 
 " That is not true, Xed. 1 said that she was 
 an honest girl/ 
 
 " So you did, Zach. I remember what a lec 
 ture you gave them." 
 
 "And you talked to them yourself, Uncle 
 Henry." 
 
 "So I did, Zach. If they had heeded our 
 advice, Nellie Blunt might have been a happy 
 wife to-night." 
 
 " You did n t say nothin to us till after the 
 young feller went out." 
 
 " We ve cautioned you about slandering your 
 neighbors more times than you have fingers and 
 toes, both before and after that night. You got 
 so bad last winter that Philip Craig wouldn t 
 come in here; and he says you have almost 
 ruined his Joe by your gossip and vulgarity." 
 
 "You talk as if you didn t want us here, 
 Uncle Henry." 
 
 "You know you are always welcome, Sam; 
 but I do want you to stop your gossip." 
 
 ""We must talk about somethin . You don t 
 want us to git as sleepy as Phil Craig, do you? " 
 
 " Philip is not asleep when his eyes are shut. 
 He thinks more in a minute than the whole 
 
154 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 capoodle of you do in a month, except Zach. 
 Brown and Ben Love." 
 
 " You allers liked Zach and Ben better n the 
 rest of us." 
 
 "That is because they don t gossip, Sam/ 1 
 
 " Most everybody gossips, Uncle Henry." 
 
 " No they do n t. Most men dislike it." 
 
 "How is it about the wimmin? " 
 
 "Women are no worse than men. A sewing 
 circle can t hold a candle to you boys." 
 
 " You orter have been to our house yesterday. 
 It was society day, and you d a heered some 
 gossip, I guess." 
 
 "Not more than I have heard here this 
 evening." 
 
 "Yes you would. They talked about every 
 thing. We ain t a patchin to em." 
 
 "They didn t slander poor Nellie Blunt." 
 
 " Yes they did. They talked wus en we do 
 about her; and they said she wan t a mite crazy, 
 but was jest rnakin b leve." 
 
 " "Well; gossip s all of a piece, and t ain t any 
 worse in the society than in the shop." 
 
 " You can heer more to the society. I heered 
 all about Jim Wells writin such long letters to 
 
In the Shoe Shop. 155 
 
 Bessie Jones, and the postmaster give her one 
 yesterday mornin that was longer 11 the moral 
 law." 
 
 " How do you know it was so long? " . 
 
 kk The postmaster s wife hefted it." 
 
 " He has a right to write long letters to Bessie, 
 if he chooses." 
 
 "Yes; but they say Bessie won t appear agin 
 the old Deacon when the Gran Jury meets, 
 cause she s sot her cap for Jim." 
 
 "Bessie Jones isn t the kind of girl to set 
 her cap for anybody. She is modest and lady 
 like." 
 
 " So she is, Ben; and I think the Elton gossips 
 ought to let her alone." 
 
 "They say she paints 
 
 "That s a lie. This is the second winter she 
 has boarded at our house, and I know she do n t 
 paint." 
 
 " Landscapes. Do n t go off half-cocked, Ben. 
 Wait till I finish the sentence." 
 
 " Pardon me, Zach. I ought to have known 
 better than to speak so hastily to you, for you 
 never gossip; but I am out of patience with 
 Sam and Dick, especially. On two or three 
 
156 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 occasions they have insinuated that Bessie 
 Jones paints her face, and I won t hear any 
 more of it." 
 
 " What makes her face so red some mornin s 
 when she comes to skule?" 
 
 " She practices with her dumb-bells, about 
 fifteen minutes, every morning before starting." 
 
 "What are dum bells, Ben?" 
 
 "Don t you know?" 
 
 "If I knowed I wouldn t ask." 
 
 "Shall I tell him, Ben?" 
 
 " Certainly, Zach." 
 
 " Dumb belles are pretty girls that can t talk. 
 They never go to the society." 
 
 "Come, come, Zach. Don t join in the hue 
 and cry against the sewing circle. Let s attend 
 to the male gossips iirst." 
 
 "All right, Uncle Henry. I was simply 
 stating a plain fact for Sam s edification." 
 
 " My edikashun s as good as your n, Zach 
 Brown." 
 
 " That s so, Sam ; but Dick says you could n t 
 tell what a hundred and eighty-seven pounds of 
 haddock came to, at two and a half cents a 
 pound." 
 
In the Shoe Shop. 157 
 
 "That s cause we don t eat no haddock to 
 our house. If it had a been codfish I could 
 told easy enough." 
 
 "Sam, can you tell what four eggs, a pint of 
 milk and half a loaf of bread will come to, put 
 in a brick oven?" 
 
 " I could if I had my slate." 
 
 " I can tell without my slate." 
 
 " Well, what will they come to?" 
 
 "Custard puddin ." 
 
 " You re jest a leetle too cute for anything, 
 Mountain Jack. You d better run home and let 
 your mamma git you to bed." 
 
 "I know when to go to bed, Sam; and that s 
 more n some of Bessie Joneses scholars knows." 
 
 "You should say pupils, Jack. There are 
 not many scholars in Elton." 
 
 " But there s some dredful sharp men and 
 boys, Ben. There s Deacon Wells, for one." 
 
 "The Deacon isn t very sharp, Sam, or he 
 would not have signed Bessie Jones name to 
 that deed." 
 
 " He s sharp enough to git Bob Wallace s 
 hog." 
 
 " How did he get Bob s hog?" 
 
158 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 u Bob was owin the old Deacon and conld n t 
 pay him, for the measels and hoop cough that 
 had been in his family, so the old feller sued 
 him. He was down to Bob s, last week, and 
 spied a five-hundred -pound hog. He sot his 
 heart on that hog, and praised Bob up wonder 
 ful, and told him he done so well raisin hogs 
 that he d give him a pig, if he d come for it. 
 Bob jumped at the chance to git a pig, and 
 offered to pay the Deacon when the children got 
 well; but the Deacon was dredful good, and said 
 he did n t want no pay. Bob went and got the 
 pig, not knowin that the law only allowed him 
 one, and the next day the Deacon levied on the 
 big hog, and has got him in his pen. That s 
 what I call purty sharp." 
 
 " That is pretty sharp for a blue-nose." 
 "Yes; twill do for a genuine^ Yankee." 
 "Bob is elected for one of the Gran Jurors, 
 and he 11 git even with the old skin-flint when 
 that forgin case comes up." 
 
 "Bob is very poor, and that is a mean trick, 
 if it is sharp." 
 
 "They say the Deacon s wife cried about it, 
 and tried to get him to give the hog back, but 
 
In the Shoe Shop. 159 
 
 he called her a blnbberin fool, and sent her out 
 o the room. * 
 
 " He orter be ashamed of hisself." 
 
 "Folks say she 11 leave him when Jim gits 
 marrid, and gits his new house done." 
 
 " Where did Jim git money to build that 
 big house? He tends to lots of cases for 
 nothin ." 
 
 " Look at the fee he got in that big railroad 
 case up to Augusta! Five thousand dollars at 
 one clip! They say he s a lightnin railroad 
 lawyer." 
 
 " He 11 put it all in that house afore he gits it- 
 done. Jest look at the verandys and chickin 
 fixins he s puttin up." 
 
 " He gets a good many large fees. Jim Wells 
 made a great deal of money last year." 
 
 " How did hee^it his name up so? " 
 
 " Brains, my boy. Brains will tell." 
 
 " Where did Jim git so many brains? " 
 
 " From his mother." 
 
 " Pity she could n t a served Lige in the same 
 way." 
 
 " Lige s brains were furnished by contract, and 
 a good deal of sawdust mixed in." 
 
160 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 " It takes our singin master to keep his 
 contract." 
 
 "How so?" 
 
 " He agreed to keep skule twenty nights for 
 twenty dollars. We chucked up nineteen dollars 
 and sixty cents, and he stopped the skule last 
 night afore half past eight o clock cause he said 
 the money was expired." 
 
 " What did you learn at singing school, 
 Sam?" 
 
 "I can rise and fall the scale, and beat time." 
 
 "It must be slow time if you can beat it, 
 Sam." 
 
 "Time ain t so fast as you be, Mountain 
 Jack. If it were, a streak of lightnin couldn t 
 beat it." 
 
 " But it -s too fast for a snail, Sain." 
 
 " If. you was n t such a little mite of a chit, 
 I d take you acrost my knee, Jack." 
 
 " No danger. Catchin before spankin is the 
 rule." 
 
 " I wish you s my boy for about five minutes." 
 
 " I m glad I ain t your boy. I d have less 
 brains than Lige Wells has got." 
 
 " Come, boys. No quarreling." 
 
In the Shoe Shop. 161 
 
 " I do n t like to be badgered by a little tit 
 mouse like him, Uncle Henry." 
 
 " You must not impose on Sam, Mountain 
 Jack." 
 
 " 1 won t hurt him, Uncle Henry." 
 
 " Remember, Jack, * that the doctrine that 
 might makes right is not popular in this 
 enlightened age. You must not abuse Sam, 
 simply because you are strong and he is 
 weak. 7 
 
 "Dame Nature teaches that doctrine, Zach, 
 however much it is at variance with our ideas." 
 
 " Where does Nature teach that < might makes 
 right, Ben?" 
 
 "The birds of the air, the beasts of the field, 
 and the fishes that inhabit the great deep, nearly 
 all obtain their food on this principle." 
 
 "Does that make the principle right?" 
 
 " Yes ; so far as it relates to the animal 
 kingdom." 
 
 " May not animals do wrong? " 
 
 "Not when they obey a natural instinct." 
 
 " Tell us the difference, Ben, between instinct 
 and reason." 
 
 " Instinct is a faculty, or aptitude, with which 
 
1 62 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 animals are indued, while reason is confined to 
 man." 
 
 "Yes, I see. Certain animals build habita 
 tions and provide stores for the winter. They 
 know, instinctively, that winter is coming, arid 
 they wisely make provision for it. Man does 
 the same thing, and we call it reason. The dif 
 ference between instinct and reason is as clear as 
 rnud." 
 
 " Yet there is a difference, Zach, though I 11 
 admit the line is not clearly defined." 
 
 " The animals has the best of it these times. 
 A poor man can t lay in enough to take him 
 through the winter, on less he s pertickerler 
 ekernomical." 
 
 " Poor men can t afford to practice economy, 
 Sam." 
 
 ".Can t afford it?" 
 
 "]S T o, sir." 
 
 " Git out with your nonsense, Ben. They re 
 the very fellers that has to afford it." 
 
 " A poor man buys cheap goods for his family. 
 It costs as much to make up a cheap as a good 
 piece, and it will not wear half as long. Take, 
 for instance, a piece of sheeting. The poor man 
 
In the Shoe Shop. 163 
 
 buys a poor piece for ten cents per yard, because 
 he can t afford to buy a good piece at fourteen 
 cents. His wife can t make it up and do the 
 work in a family of six or seven children, so he 
 hires it done. There is but little wear in the 
 goods, and in a few weeks it is gone, while the 
 fourteen-cent sheeting would wear for months. 
 So you see, Sam, a poor man can t afford to be 
 economical." 
 
 "There is somethin in it; but poor men s 
 children is orful extravagant. There s Hez 
 Godfry s boy allers comes to skule with baked 
 beans loose in his pocket, right among his 
 slate pencils." 
 
 " I should think they d wet his pocket." 
 
 " No. He takes the dry ones from the top of 
 the pot." 
 
 " I m glad to learn that one of your school 
 mates knows beans, Sam," 
 
 " That s all he knows. His father was down 
 on buildin the skule house, and that s why I m 
 down on his father. He made a speech at the 
 skule meetin , and said too much learnin made 
 boys sassy. He said I were sassy; and if a man 
 cut a cord of kiln wood and put it on the warf, 
 
164 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 that was a dollar; and if lie went a trip to 
 Bosting with Cap n Smith, that was twelve 
 dollars more, and twelve dollars and one dollar 
 made thirteen dollars; and that was enough 
 edikashun for any fool. But when the vote 
 was took the old feller was all by hisself, and 
 that made him rothy, so he didn t send his boy 
 for some time, and when he did send him, Gus 
 Bruce, the master, give him an orful Hogging 
 and he took him out." 
 
 " I did n t blame him for that. Gus flogged 
 the wrong boy." 
 
 "Yes; but he went and polygized like a little 
 man, and took it all back, and it did n t satisfy 
 the old feller. He said Gus orter took back the 
 lickin ; and he ll let that boy grow up in 
 ignorance afore he 11 send to a teacher that 
 he don t like. I m agin anybody that s 
 agin skulin their children. That s me, right 
 out, and mam s proud o my pinyuns on the 
 subject." 
 
 " I am glad your mother has the courage to 
 feel proud of you, Sam." 
 
 " So m I, Zach. A boy feels lots better when 
 folks is proud of him." 
 
In the Shoe Shop. 165 
 
 "Your mother ain t folks. She s only one 
 people, Sam." 
 
 "Now see here, Jack. I don t want no more 
 o your sass here to-night." 
 
 "Take it home to eat on your pan-cakes, Sam." 
 
 " I have somethin better n pan-cakes to eat 
 to home." 
 
 "Pan-cakes is cheap fillin , Sam, and your 
 father orter keep you on em." 
 
 " Mam says they ain t good brain food, and 
 she don t make em." 
 
 "What do you -think of this idea about fish 
 for brain food, Ben?" 
 
 "It s a humbug, Zach. Our fishermen, who 
 have little else to eat, haven t brains enough to 
 tell when their feet are cold." 
 
 "Mam says codfish is good brain food." 
 
 " What does your father say about it, Sam ? 
 
 " His father thinks brains orter be fed on 
 pertaters, so twixt em both they keep Sam on 
 codfish hash." 
 
 "There s wus eatin than codfish hash, Jack, 
 and some famlys in Elton knows it." 
 
 "They say they just live on it up to Deacon 
 Wellses." 
 
1 66 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 "Who says so, Tom?" 
 
 " Bob Crane told me. The old Deacon hired 
 him to cut wood for forty cents a cord and 
 boarded. He could stan the forty cents for 
 cuttin wood, but he got tired livin on codfish 
 hash." 
 
 " I should think the Deacon s wife would 
 want something better." 
 
 "So she does; but Bob says every time she 
 cooked anything else the Deacon would make a 
 fuss about it, and tell her hash was good enough 
 for these hard times." 
 
 " That explodes your fish for brain food theory, 
 Zach. Lige Wells has been raised on a fish diet, 
 and he will not die of brain fever." 
 
 "Jim was raised the same way, and he has 
 more brains than a dozen ordinary men." 
 
 " But he was born with brains. I do n t claim 
 that fish will destroy a man s brains." 
 
 " If it did, Sam Smith s would be gone long 
 ago." 
 
 " And you d have nothin for the fish to begin 
 on, Jack." 
 
 "Come, boys; don t be personal. A little 
 more brains wouldn t hurt either of you." 
 
/;/ the Shoe Shop. 167 
 
 " It takes an eight-inch hat for me, Uncle 
 Henry." 
 
 " Your brains is like the rum Deacon Wells 
 give Jack Blunt, Sam. They re thinned out 
 with water." 
 
 " Hold on, Jack. You mus n t be impudent." 
 
 "I ain t any wus than Sam, Uncle Henry." 
 
 "But you must set Sam a good example, 
 Jack." 
 
 "If I do, he won t toller it. He s allers fol- 
 lerin his big nose." 
 
 "Mam says all the great men has big noses. 
 Our minister s got a picter of Washington 
 Irvin and his friends, and they all has big 
 noses, like mine." 
 
 " So does the great men in Elton. There J s 
 Deacon Wells, Tom Siddons, Lige Wells and 
 Sam Smith." 
 
 "Your own nose ain t so orful small, Dick." 
 
 " That s so, Sam ; but it ain t big enough to 
 take me in with you great men." 
 
 " There s another dig at the Lord s hand 
 writing, Uncle Henry." 
 
 " You must consider what He has to write on, 
 Ben. I don t claim that you can always read 
 
1 68 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 a man s heart by looking at his face, but it is 
 generally a very good index." 
 
 "Sometimes children inherit the features of 
 one parent and the brains of the other." 
 
 ".Not often. Look at the Wells family. Lige 
 has the features and even less brains than his 
 father, while Jirn has the features and brains of 
 his mother." 
 
 " I am not acquainted with Mrs. Wells, but if 
 she has so much brain I should think she might 
 influence her husband." 
 
 " An angel could n t control the old Deacon. 
 She submits because she thinks it would dis 
 grace her children if she should leave him." 
 
 "She can t disgrace Lige." 
 
 "No; but she thinks the world of Jim. 1 
 
 " Jim wants her to leave the old Deacon, and 
 offered to provide for her, I m told." 
 
 " Yes. He wanted her to go when he left 
 home; but she thinks it s her duty to stay. The 
 Deacon is getting worse and worse every year, 
 and she will either go to Heaven or get a divorce 
 before long. No woman can stand what she 
 does, and live many years." 
 
 " They say Lige is worse than the old man." 
 
In the Shoe Shop. 169 
 
 " I guess the difference between them is like 
 the difference between Satan and the devil. 
 They re both as bad as they can be." 
 
 " If I s her, I d pizen their coffee and send 
 em home." 
 
 " There s no place for them to go to, Dick. 
 That question was settled last winter." 
 
 " She can t pizen their coffee, cause they 
 don t drink none." 
 
 " What do they drink?" 
 
 "Warm water, sweeten d with merlasses, is 
 their reg lar drink, but they have buttermilk 
 when there s no sale for it." 
 
 " They say the Deacon sends all the batter to 
 Glenville and sells it, and don t leave his^wife 
 any to put on the table." 
 
 " And Lige hides all the eggs." 
 
 "I guess t ain t quite so bad as that, boys." 
 
 " Bob Crane says tis, and he orter know." 
 
 " The Deacon and Lige is wus than ever sense 
 Jim left home. They do n t give Mis Wells a 
 minit s peace." 
 
 " How do they do when quarterly conference 
 comes, and the Deacon has company? " 9 
 
 "They do n t go to see the Deacon no more. 
 
I/O A Century of Gossip. 
 
 He s so crusty every time his wife kills a pullet 
 that they do n t want to go and see him. They 
 git better grub som ers else." 
 
 " Ain t they goiir to haul the Deacon over the 
 coals for forgin that deed?" 
 
 "He told em, last conference, that he was 
 ready for trial. They summoned Bessie Jones, 
 and she would n t appear agin him. She said 
 she did n t want to mix up in church matters; 
 but mam thinks she s goin to git marrid to 
 Jim, and that s why she s so shy about it." 
 
 " I do n t blame her for trying to keep out of 
 a quarrel; but seems to me she ought to go and 
 tell what she knows about the old rascal." 
 
 " She says she do n t know who signed her 
 name to that deed, Uncle Henry. She has 
 her opinion about it, but her opinion isn t 
 evidence." 
 
 " That s so, Ben ; but I guess she knows who 
 did it." 
 
 "Why don t they summon Jack Blunt? 
 He ll tell." 
 
 "They was goin to; but the Deacon told em 
 they couldn t try one of the Lord s anninted 
 with unbelievin witnesses, and the minister 
 
/;/ the Shoe Shop. 17 [ 
 
 agreed with him, on the ground that it wan t 
 ScripteraL" 
 
 " Mam says she do n t see what the minister 
 sticks and hangs for the old Deacon so hard for. 
 It s preslms little salary he pays." 
 
 Maybe he thinks if he sticks up to him he 11 
 pay more." 
 
 The entrance of Philip, the philosopher, was 
 the signal for the gossips to cease. He caught 
 the drift of the conversation, however, and 
 remarked: 
 
 "That is uncharitable, Torn. It is very 
 natural for a pastor to consider his flock inno 
 cent, and if he really believes the Deacon is 
 innocent he ought to stick up to him, regard 
 less of the amount of money he pays." 
 
 " But he can t believe him innocent, Philip, if 
 he has taken any trouble to investigate his case. 
 Everybody in the village, who heard what the 
 evidence was before the court, thinks the old 
 rascal is guilty; even his own church members." 
 
 "Possibly the minister has not investigated, 
 Uncle Henry. Why not take the charitable 
 view of it, and give him the benefit of the 
 doubt?" 
 
172 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 " That s right, Phil. I Ve no doubt the min 
 ister knows he s guilty, and I m willin to give 
 him the benefit of it." 
 
 " I spoke to Uncle Henry, Tom." 
 
 "I know you did; but I answered you, Phil. 
 Ain t that jest as well?" 
 
 " No. I wanted his opinion, not yours." 
 
 "Well, Philip, it s my opinion that Deacon 
 Wells is guilty, and the minister knows it. I 
 don t believe Parson Green would attempt to 
 shield a guilty member of his church." 
 
 "I know he wouldn t; and T don t believe 
 Elder Steele would, either. Elder Steele is a 
 good man, and I honor him for sticking to the 
 Deacon so long as he believes him innocent. I 
 wouldn t give a snap for a friend that would 
 desert me simply because the gossips of Elton 
 pronounced me guilty; and you re the only 
 man, except the gossips, that I have heard 
 express an opinion about Deacon Wells guilt 
 or innocence, Uncle Henry." 
 
 u Father says he s guilty, Phil, and he s a 
 member of his church in good standin . He 
 says he d believe anything Jack Blunt would 
 say about the old Deacon." 
 
In the Shoe Shop. 173 
 
 " I presume there are many better men than 
 Jack Blunt or Deacon Wells; but I am not pre 
 pared to condemn Elder Steele for believing the 
 Deacon innocent. If Deacon Wells is guilt y, 
 Elder Steele is deceived/ 
 
 " You have more charity for him than I, 
 Philip. I do n t see how he can help believ 
 ing him guilty." 
 
 "How can I help believing him guilty? 
 Uncle Henry f 
 
 " Do you believe him innocent?" 
 
 u I do n t know what to believe. The law pre 
 sumes that every man is innocent until his guilt 
 is proved. I want to be as charitable as the 
 law; yet I do not consider Deacon Wells an 
 honest man; but you must remember that 
 Elder Steele, during his short stay in Elton, 
 has heard comparatively little about him, and 
 is doubtless deceived in regard to his true char 
 acter. What I object to, is this wholesale 
 denunciation of Elder Steele. 
 
 " I never see you at his church, Phil." 
 
 u That isn t the place to get acquainted with a 
 minister. I have spent several evenings in his 
 company, and have learned more about him in a 
 
174 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 single evening than I would by attending his 
 church for a year." 
 
 " I should think t would be kinder dry goin 
 to see a minister." 
 
 " That depends on who goes, Dick. My most 
 enjoyable evenings are spent with Parson Green 
 and Elder Steele. They are first rate fellows, 
 and I always feel at home in their company." 
 
 " Ain t they allers teasin you about religion? " 
 
 "We sometimes talk upon religious subjects; 
 but they seldom introduce anything of the kind. 
 They are too sensible to bore their visitors with 
 long sermons." 
 
 " Do n t the Bible teach that a minister should 
 labor in season and out of season, Philip?" 
 
 "Perhaps it does, Uncle Henry; but it says 
 nothing about what he shall do between times, 
 when his friends call in to spend the evening." 
 
 " There ought to be no i between times in a 
 
 O 
 
 minister s life, Philip." 
 
 " There s where you re wrong, Uncle Henry. 
 Parson Green has accomplished as much be 
 tween times as in the pulpit. His social 
 qualities have drawn many young Eltonians 
 into the fold. Thev could not be reached in 
 
In the Shoe Shop. 175 
 
 any other way, and the Parson knew it. He 
 did not drive tbem from him by constantly talk 
 ing about the sin that is in the world; but 
 entered into their sports with the enthusiasm 
 of a school boy. More than half of the young 
 people in the village are members of his church. 1 
 
 "Yes; but that is the result of his work in 
 the pulpit." 
 
 " Nonsense, Uncle Henry. He might have 
 preached till doomsday without converting 
 them if they had not loved him. He has 
 saved as many souls by playing base ball as 
 in any other way." 
 
 " Maybe he has, Philip. I wish he could get 
 a few more. 1 
 
 " They do n t play base ball." 
 
 " Some of us does. Ben Love and Zach Brown 
 is allers playin . Why do n t Parson Green git 
 them?" 
 
 ki Cause Ben s a Methodist and Zach s a 
 blacksmith. They re too heavy for one man to 
 fetch , " 
 
 " Better be a blacksmith than a loafer, Sam." 
 
 " There ain t but little odds, and the loafer gits 
 what little there is." 
 
1/6 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 " You ought to learn a trade, Sain." 
 
 "What do I want of a trade, Phil? Mam 
 says I m goin to collige bimeby." 
 
 Your mother is right, Sam. If there isn t 
 enough in a boy to make a mechanic he ought 
 to go throng] i college." 
 
 "I guess there s the makin of a mechanic in 
 me, Zach, if I wanted a trade. I d ruther be a 
 lawyer or somethin ." 
 
 " You ve got a sure thing on the or some 
 thing, Sam, and you d better hang to it." 
 
 " That s what mam says." 
 
 u Every boy should learn a trade, either before 
 or after he goes through college." 
 
 "Why, Phil?" 
 
 " Because, no boy is educated until he knows 
 how to earn his bread." 
 
 " Is it wise for a boy, who is trying to qualify 
 himself for a profession, to spend three or four 
 years in learning a trade ? " 
 
 "I think it is, Ben. Three-fourths of our 
 college graduates are never heard from after they 
 receive their diploma, simply because they have 
 not learned to work." 
 
 "What becomes of them?" 
 
hi tJie Shoe Shop. 177 
 
 " They choose a profession, enter the lists with 
 mechanics who have educated themselves by 
 lamp-light, and fail. After a disgraceful fail 
 ure they manage to get a clerkship, or some 
 unimportant position, and never rise above it. 
 It is better to be a good mechanic than to hang 
 on to the tail end of a profession." 
 
 "That s true; but I don t see how learning a 
 trade helps to qualify a man for a profession." 
 
 " It s good discipline, Ben. They have 
 learned to work, and that s half the battle. 
 Our most successful professional men are me 
 chanics, who entered their profession with a 
 determination to succeed, backed up by a good 
 constitution and physical strength, attributable 
 to the work-bench. A certain kind of indepen 
 dence is essential if a man would succeed; and 
 no man is independent until he has learned a 
 trade. 
 
 "I do n t want no trade. Mam says I 11 be a 
 ornamental member of a profeshun." 
 
 Your mother is right, Sam. You 11 never 
 make a useful member." 
 
 " I guess I 11 be as good a lawyer or somethin 
 
 as you are blacksmith." 
 12 
 
i/*8 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 " You d make a fust rate butcher, Sam." 
 
 Why, Jack?" 
 
 " Cause you d never Lave to run after a calf. 
 They d come right to you. 
 
 " Come, boys. You re getting too personal 
 again. You must behave yourselves." 
 
 " I can t learn Sam to behave hisself, Uncle 
 Henry." 
 
 "You commenced on Sam this time, Moun 
 tain. I was listening." 
 
 " Was I sassy, Uncle Henry ? " 
 
 " That s what they used to call it when I was 
 a boy." 
 
 " But t ain t fair to go so fur back." 
 
 "It would be a good thing for all you boys if 
 you had to go back a generation or two. We 
 had to toe the mark when I was a little codger. 
 Children should be seen, not heard, was the 
 motto in the good old days; but everything has 
 changed for the worse, specially boys." 
 
 Uncle Henry notified the boys that he was 
 going to close up. He put out the light, locked 
 lie rickety door, and went home, fully impressed 
 with the idea that " everything had changed for 
 the worse, specially boys." 
 
CHAPTEE VIII. 
 
 RETRIBUTION. 
 
 O before the Grand Jury and make a clean 
 
 l ^} 
 
 J breast of it, Jack. You shall not be 
 prosecuted." 
 
 "On them terms I ll do it, Mr. King. The 
 old Deacon hain t treated me right, and Lige had 
 as much to do with Kelly goin crazy as any 
 body. I do n t care a continental cuss if they 
 botli git into the penitenshary. They ll know 
 how to treat a feller when they come out." 
 
 " The Grand Jury will meet next Monday. 
 Shall I send a subpoena for you, or will you 
 appear voluntarily?" 
 
 " Oh, I 11 make a volunteer job of it, and 
 swear from July to dog days, if you want 
 me to." 
 
 ""What is the ground for your grievance, 
 Jack?" 
 
 " I Ve got ground for half a dozen grievances 
 (179; 
 
180 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 and enough for a big pertater patch besides. 
 He s lied to me more n a thousand times. He 
 promised me the mill on the Jones place if I d 
 apprize it for one-third of what it were wuth, 
 and then when I done his dirty work he backed 
 down." 
 
 " So you appraised the place for one-third its 
 real value, did you, Jack?" 
 
 " Yes; me and Tom Siddons done it. The old 
 Deacon only give us fifty dollars for the job. 
 That s another grievance I Ve got agin him." 
 
 " Did he make a bargain with you beforehand, 
 and tell you what he wanted you to do?" 
 
 " Yes; me and Tom Siddons." 
 
 "Where does Tom Siddons live?" 
 
 " Up to Sackarap." 
 
 "Will he swear that the Deacon paid him 
 money to make a false appraisement?" 
 
 "He ll swear like the d 1 agin the Deacon. 
 The old cuss cheated him out of his best cow." 
 
 "How did he do it?" 
 
 " He swapped Tom three Sandy Ridge shoats 
 for Pole and China. Tom don t know no more 
 about live hogs than the Deacon does about 
 the Scripter, and when he found out the old fel- 
 
Retribution. 181 
 
 ler d cheated him he was orful rothy, and lie 
 ain t got over it jit." 
 
 " Then the Deacon is a hard customer? 
 
 "Yes, sir; he s a hard ticket. He d do well 
 enough up to Sackarap, where they re all hard, 
 but he s a orful poor stick to make a deacon out 
 of. He s consider bly sap rotted." 
 
 11 1 should think Elder Steele would haul him 
 over the coals." 
 
 " Coals wo n t have no effect on him. He can 
 stan brimstone and niter gli serin . lie s tough 
 er n a blue- nosed mule." 
 
 "What s a blue-nosed mule, Jack?" 
 
 "Don t you know?" 
 
 "No, sir;- I do not." 
 
 " Well that s sing lar, shure enough. You re 
 a lawyer and do n t know what a blue-nosed mule 
 is. It s a mule raised among the blue-noses in 
 the Provinces, Mr. King." 
 
 " Sure enough. I ought to have known that." 
 
 " I s pose lawyers can t learn it all, but they 
 generally know most everything." 
 
 " Has the Deacon any other bad habits beside 
 forging deeds and cheating his neighbors in hog 
 trades?" 
 
1 82 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 " Yes. He plays cards and smuggles rum." 
 
 "Is he good at cards?" 
 
 " No, sir; he s bad at em. He do n t play no 
 fair game, b ut Lige has got so he can beat him 
 playin ten cent ante." 
 
 " Does Deacon Wells play cards with his own 
 son?" 
 
 " "Not any more. Lige beat him out of half a 
 dollar three or four times, hand runnin , and the 
 old feller won t play agin him sense." 
 
 " Who does he play with? " 
 
 " Them Bangor chaps." 
 
 " Does Elder Steele know that he plays cards? " 
 
 " I guess not. Nobody but Lige and me 
 knowed it for a long time. When he went back 
 on me about the mill I told some of the boys, 
 but I guess they kep it to theirselves." 
 
 O / i 
 
 "Does he smuggle much rum?" 
 
 u Not so much late years as he used to." 
 
 "Where does he land it?" 
 
 " To Bangor." 
 
 " How did you find out that he smuggled rum, 
 Jack?" 
 
 "He got sick one fall, and I went down and 
 got it for him." 
 
Retribution. 183 
 
 "Did the revenue officers disturb him?" 
 
 " One of em watched him purty clost, but the 
 Deacon give him a hoss and carridge, and he 
 could n t see nothin after ards." 
 
 u Do you know his name? 1 
 
 "Yes; but I won t tell, and he s out now, 
 anyhow, so it would n t do you no good." 
 
 " All right, Jack. I m very much obliged for 
 what you have told. I never dreamed that Dea 
 con Wells was such a man as you represent him. 
 I supposed this forgery was his first offense, and 
 was disposed to deal leniently with him ; but I 
 shall prosecute him to the bitter end, now." 
 
 " Look out for your jury, Mr. King, or he 11 
 buy em all up right afore your face and eyes." 
 
 " I "11 keep a sharp look out, Jack. Be on 
 hand next Monday." 
 
 " I will." 
 
 Jack Blunt appeared before the Grand Jury at 
 the appointed time, and told all he knew about 
 the forgery. Bessie Jones was an unwilling wit 
 ness, and stated that she did not sign the deed. 
 This was all she knew about it. Somebody was 
 guilty of forgery, but she could not determine in 
 her own mind who was the guilty party. If it 
 
184 A Centiiry of Gossip. 
 
 was Deacon Wells, she thought he had been 
 sufficiently punished by making restitution, and 
 if consistent with the ends of justice she pre 
 ferred that the matter might be dropped. So 
 far as she was concerned she did not desire to 
 prosecute him. 
 
 The Jury looked at the matter in a different 
 light, and found a true bill against Hezekiah and 
 Elijah Wells on the testimony of Jack Blunt. 
 Jack s evidence was conclusive. He told his 
 story in a straightforward manner, detailing 
 the conversation that was held both before and 
 after signing the deed. He did not try to shield 
 himself, but u made a clean breast of it." He 
 was cross-examined by one of the jurors, but the 
 attempt to shake his evidence simply made it 
 stronger, and when the vote was taken it was 
 unanimous. 
 
 A warrant was issued for the arrest of the 
 guilty parties, and placed in the hands of the 
 sheriff, who lost no time in serving it. Assisted 
 by his deputy he made the arrest when the Dea 
 con and Elijah were at the dinner table. They 
 submitted quietly; but when the officers pro 
 duced the handcuffs, Patience Wells begged 
 
" She plead that they might be spared this indignity." 
 
 PAGE 185. 
 
Retribution. 185 
 
 them, with tears in her eyes, to desist, assuring 
 them that the prisoners would go with them 
 without resistance. She forgot their cruelty, 
 and only remembered that she was a wife and 
 mother, as she plead that they might be spared 
 this indignity. 
 
 "Dont be a fool, Patience. "We 11 be back 
 to-morrer. We re as innersent as a lamb, ain t 
 we, Elijah ? 
 
 " Yes, mother; we re innersent as a hull flock 
 of sheep, and they 11 find, when they git us to 
 Glenville, that they ve ketched the wrong pigs 
 by the ears. " 
 
 The kind hearted sheriff pitied the sorrowing 
 wife, and put the handcuffs in his pocket. He 
 hurried his prisoners off, and handcuffed them 
 as soon as they were out of the village. By 
 request of Deacon Wells the sheriff sent word 
 to Esquire Gray to come immediately to Glen 
 ville. It was five o clock when the party drove 
 up to the jail. Deacon A\ r ells was surprised to 
 find that the jailor was a former citizen of Elton. 
 
 " Well, Deacon, I m sorry to number you 
 among my boarders; but I suppose you ll be 
 bailed out to-morrow/ 
 
1 86 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 " I do n t want to be bailed out. I d ruther 
 be filled up. I didn t half finish my dinner. 1 
 
 " I 11 see that you are filled up, Elijah, in short 
 order. I 11 have your supper here inside of ten 
 minutes. 1 
 
 " I s pose you 11 let us out to eat, Jesse? " 
 
 "Can t do it, Deacon. I m sorry; but it s 
 against the rules to take a prisoner out to 
 meals." 
 
 " But we ain t prisoners, Jesse." 
 
 " You are for the time being, and I shall have 
 to treat you as I do the others. I can t show 
 any partiality, you know. They d cut my head 
 off if I did." 
 
 " But Elijah and me is innersent, Jesse." 
 
 " I hope so, Deacon, and if you are, you will 
 have no trouble in proving it; so you won t have 
 long to stay, even if you ain t bailed out." 
 
 " We don t have to prove our innersence, Jesse. 
 They ve got to prove we re guilty, and they 
 can t do it. Who s the witnesses agin us? " 
 
 " I believe Jack Blunt is the principal wit 
 ness." 
 
 "His witnessin won t amount to nothin , 
 father. Everybody knows he s a orful liar." 
 
Retribution. 187 
 
 " I want you to write to him, Jesse. Tell him 
 to come up right off. Put this five dollar note 
 in to pay his bill, and tell him I ? m orful anxious 
 to see him." 
 
 " Perhaps you d better wait a day or two, 
 Deacon. You may be bailed out, and then you 
 can see him." 
 
 " Jesse s right, father. Jack ? s a feller that s 
 better seen than writ to." 
 
 "So he is, Elijah. I ll see him when I git 
 out." 
 
 " You do n t Aspect us to sleep in here all night, 
 do you, Jes.?" 
 
 " I m afraid you 11 have to, Elijah." 
 
 " I do n t care nothin for myself, but it s hard 
 on dad." 
 
 " I can stan 1 as much as you can, Elijah." 
 
 " Can you give a feller a chaw of terbacker, 
 Jes.? I left mine to home." 
 
 u Here s some genuine James river, Elijah. 
 You can keep the plug." 
 
 " Does the county buy your terbacker, Jes. ? " 
 
 " !No. Why do you ask? " 
 
 " Cause I thought you s orful free with it." 
 
1 88 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 " Tobacco is like a joke in shearin time, you 
 know, Elijah; free to all." 
 
 " I m glad that s one of your rules, Jes., for 
 I chaw a orful sight." 
 
 " Do you chew, Deacon?" 
 
 "Jest a little, Jesse; but you needn t mind 
 me. I can borry from Elijah." 
 
 " All right. I 11 go and bring in your supper." 
 
 " Bring enough of it, Jes. ; and I guess you d 
 better bring a pack of cards. Maybe dad 11 be 
 lonesome." 
 
 "You know I don t b leve in playin cards, 
 Elijah." 
 
 I know; but maybs you ll git tired doin 
 nothin and will play jest to make the time seem 
 shorter." 
 
 " I 11 bring them, Deacon, and you can do as 
 you choose about playing." 
 
 "Jest as you re mind to, Jesse." 
 
 The cards were brought, but the Deacon would 
 not play. He did not feel like indulging in a 
 game of draw poker on his first evening in jail. 
 He did not fear the result of the trial; but he 
 trembled as he thought of what the public would 
 
Retribution. 189 
 
 say. He passed a sleepless night, and waited 
 anxiously for Esquire Gray to call next day. 
 Elijah slept as soundly as any of the hardened 
 criminals by whom he was surrounded. He did 
 not realize his danger, and he passed the morn 
 ing in playing cards with one of his fellow pris 
 oners. About noon Esquire Gray was ushered 
 in by the accommodating jailor. 
 
 " Hello, Deacon; they ve got you in limbo, 
 have they?" 
 
 "Got me in jail, you d better say, Squire; 
 and I want to git out." 
 
 " All right. I 11 bail you out, but you must 
 deed me enough of your property to secure me." 
 "Secure you agin what?" 
 
 " Against your failure to appear for trial." 
 
 " I 11 be shure to appear." 
 
 "I presume you will; but we lawyers always 
 take property as a mere matter of form, and 
 deed it back when the trial is over." 
 
 u What property do you want me to deed 
 you?" 
 
 "Your home place, the Bently farm, the 
 township of timber land and the old Smith 
 farm." 
 
I 9 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 " Had n t you better take all I Ve got? " 
 
 " I shall deed it all back if you stand your 
 trial, so what difference does it make about the 
 amount?" 
 
 "All right, Squire. Draw up your deed as 
 soon as you can. I want to git out." 
 
 The deed was executed and the Deacon and 
 Elijah liberated. The crafty lawyer placed the 
 deed in the pocket of his great coat, with a twin 
 kle in his snake-like eye that augured mischief. 
 It was a mere matter of form " that was destined 
 to cause serious inconvenience to Deacon Wells. 
 
 " Well, Patience, we re back agin jest as I 
 told you, and you look as if you d been cryin 
 for a fortni t." 
 
 "Is it all over? Are you clear of the 
 charge?" 
 
 "We hain t had our trial; but it will be a 
 mere matter of form, as Squire Gray says. 
 We ll be cleared easy enough when the trial 
 comes off." 
 
 "I hope so. v 
 
 " I know so, Patience, and that orter satisfy 
 any reasonable woman; but there s no satisfyin 
 wirnrnin; is there, Elijah?" 
 
Retribution. 191 
 
 "No, father; wimmin is wimmin, and you 
 can t make men of em, no how/ 
 
 " Hurry up and git supper, Patience. I must 
 go and see Jack Blunt. He s the witness agin 
 us." 
 
 " What are you charged with, Deacon? " 
 
 " We ain t charged with anything, Patience." 
 
 " What were you arrested for? I was so ex 
 cited, yesterday, that I didn t ask." 
 
 "For forgin a deed; and we never done it. 
 Bessie Jones signed that deed her own self, and 
 Jack Blunt will swear to it." 
 
 " Will Bessie Jones swear that she did n t 
 sign it?" 
 
 " I s pose so; but no jury orter take a woman s 
 swear agin a man s; and Jack Blunt s a Justice 
 of the Peace." 
 
 Patience Wells knew thai: an intelligent jury 
 would believe Bessie Jones, and she felt that 
 James 1 prophecy would be fulfilled. How dis 
 tinctly jhe remembered his words: " Your avar 
 ice will lead you to a fellon s cell, and your 
 ill-gotten wealth will not unlock its door. 
 Her life had indeed been full of sorrow, but 
 the most poignant grief awaited her. How 
 
I9 2 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 gladly she would rest; yet the Angel of Death 
 cruelly passed her by. 
 
 " Good evenin , Jack. Is nobody round? " 
 
 " You know there s nobody here but me. 
 You know Nelly is in the crazy hospittle." 
 
 u That >s all the better, for I want a little talk 
 with you. What made you swear agin Elijah 
 and me afore the Gran Jury? " 
 
 " Cause I had to." 
 
 " Now I ve a propersishun to make." 
 
 "Les hear it." 
 
 u I will give you fifty dollars to swear afore 
 the court that Bessie Jones signed that deed." 
 
 " I can t do it, Deacon. I ve quit lyin ." 
 
 " Then I 11 give you a hundred to go down to 
 the Provinces and keep hid till after the trial." 
 
 " Can t do it, Deacon. Mr. King would send 
 for me. He knows the ropes." 
 
 " Then you re goin to swear agin us at 
 court?" 
 
 * I s pose so." 
 
 " If you do I 11 send you to the penitenshary 
 for smuggiin rum, forgin that acknoligment, 
 and false apprisin the Jones place." 
 
 " Scoot ahead, Deacon. I ain t a carin what 
 
Retribution. 193 
 
 becomes of me. What have I got to live for? 
 I M willingly go to prison for the sake of seein 
 you and Lige there. He was the cause of JS"elly 
 goin 1 crazy, and I 11 have my revenge, anyhow." 
 
 " Hain t I allers treated you like a man, 
 Jack?" 
 
 " No. You promised me the mill to run, and 
 backed out. You kep me doin dirty work on 
 preshus little pay." 
 
 " I 11 give you the mill to run after the trial s 
 over, if you 11 go away and not swear agin us." 
 
 " Once a liar, allers a liar, is my motto, Dea 
 con. I shan t trust you no more." 
 
 a All right, Jack. You swear agin us and 
 I ll make you smart for it; that sail. 1 
 
 " I m smart enough now to send you and 
 Lige up, and I ll do it." 
 
 " I 11 git Squire Gray to have your com- 
 rnishun took back. 1 
 
 "Don t trouble yourself, Deacon. I ll quit 
 and come up to prison to hecter you and Lige." 
 
 Deacon Wells went home to " make Patience 
 smart." The cowardly villain had a way of 
 making his wife particularly uncomfortable 
 
 when any of his plans were frustrated. 
 13 
 
194 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 " What did Jack say, Deacon? " 
 
 " It s none of your bizness what he said. It s 
 strange that wimmin can t mind their own biz- 
 ness and stop meddlin with other people." 
 
 And Patience resolved to "mind her own 
 business." 
 
 Squire Gray was not an attorney; he was 
 simply a pettifogger, and when Deacon Wells 
 asked him to see Jack Bhmt he readily assented 
 but his influence was exerted for the prosecution, 
 and he only confirmed Jack in his resolution to 
 appear against the Deacon. He wanted his 
 client convicted; not that the ends of justice 
 might be subserved, but he had that "mere 
 matter of form " safely deposited in his side 
 pocket, where it often came in contact with an 
 itching palm. He persuaded the Deacon that 
 additional counsel would be an unnecessary 
 expense without corresponding benefit. In 
 this, however, he was right, for all the attor 
 neys in the State could not have saved the 
 Deacon from the penalty of his crime. 
 
 " Put up a lunch for me and Elijah, Patience, 
 
Retribution . 195 
 
 and be in a hurry about it. We must go to 
 court to-day." 
 
 " Put in some biled aigs for me, mother." 
 
 " There are no eggs in the house, Elijah, 
 You sold them all, on Saturday." 
 
 "Can t you bony a few from Mis Craig? A 
 lunch with no biled aigs in it ain t wuth eatin , 
 cordin to my noshun." 
 
 " I will go and see her." 
 
 " Let Elijah go, Patience. You 11 fool round 
 talkin with Mis Craig till we ll be late." 
 
 " So she will. I 11 go myself, father." 
 
 " Git your water hot and bile em in a hurry 
 when Elijah gits back. Come; fly round." 
 
 "The water is hot, and I won t detain you, 
 Deacon. Have you employed any one to assist 
 Mr. Gray in your defense? " 
 
 " No. He says t would be money throwed 
 away, and I know he s enough for any on 
 em." 
 
 " I wish you would get Mr. Ainsworth to help 
 him." 
 
 "You re a fool, Patience, and don t know 
 nothin about law. I wish you d mind your 
 own bizness and not meddle so much." 
 
196 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 Patience regretted that she had not adhered to 
 her resolution to " mind her own business. 3 
 
 Deacon Wells and Elijah entered the court 
 room as the Judge was calling the docket. 
 After the usual delay in impanneling the jury, 
 the State called Bessie Jones and Jack Blunt. 
 Their testimony was the same as given before 
 the Grand Jury, and the witnesses for the 
 defense were sworn. Elder Steele testified 
 that, " so far as he knew Deacon Wells, he 
 was an upright man and a Christian." Two 
 or three members of the church also testified to 
 the Deacon s good character; but when Brother 
 Smith was called to the stand he remembered 
 "that hoss trade," and he swore, positively, that 
 " he had knowed Deacon Wells for nigh onto 
 twenty year, and he didn t believe he had an 
 honest hair in his head, except the wig he 
 bought to Bangor." 
 
 Some of the jurors were acquainted with the 
 Deacon, and they agreed with Brother Smith. 
 Jack Blunt s testimony was convincing. The 
 Judge s charge was impartial, but he gave the 
 impression that little doubt existed, in his mind, 
 as to the guilt of the accused. The jury retired 
 
Retribution. 197 
 
 in charge of a bailiff, and returned in twenty 
 minutes with a verdict of "guilty." 
 
 The prisoners were remanded to the county 
 jail, a motion for a re-hearing overruled, and on 
 the following day they were sentenced by the 
 Judge. The Deacon was shocked when the 
 Judge, after a moral lecture, sentenced him to 
 " seven years confinement in the penitentiary." 
 For the first time, since the commencement of 
 the trial, he realized that " the way of the trans 
 gressor is hard." Broken in spirit, and weeping 
 as only the guilty can weep, he left the court 
 room, assisted by a bailiff. 
 
 The Judge wisely considered Elijah s birth 
 and surroundings, and sentenced him to four 
 years imprisonment. This was a lighter pen 
 alty than he hoped for, after his father s sentence, 
 and he looked rather pleased, than otherwise, 
 when the judgment was pronounced. He went 
 to the jail with a firm step, requesting the jailor 
 to give him a good dinner, as he was "orful 
 hungry." 
 
 "Well, father, them four aces was beat bad, 
 wasn t they?" 
 
A Century of Gossip. 
 
 "Yes; Jack Blunt beat em, and I 11 git even 
 with him yit." 
 
 " I Ve got a year for every ace, and I wish 
 Jack Blunt had the pot." 
 
 " I 11 give him a wus pot than you Ve got, 
 Elijah. I ll send him up for smugglin rum. 
 I 11 learn him better n to swear agin me." 
 
 In due time the Sheriff took the prisoners to 
 Thomaston, to work for the Commonwealth. 
 When the prison garb was produced, the Dea 
 con kindly offered to u buy his own close," a 
 proposition which was promptly rejected by the 
 official. Elijah protested. He said his father 
 was " innersent as a sheep, and a deacon in good 
 standing and them close wouldn t look well on 
 him." The obliging official informed him that 
 his father might wear the clothes as a badge of 
 innocence, if he chose; but he must put on the 
 regulation suit. 
 
 Six months have passed since Deacon Wells 
 and Elijah entered upon the life for which they 
 are so eminently fitted. James has returned 
 
Retribution. 199 
 
 from Washington, and is busy with profes 
 sional cares. He has induced his mother to 
 take charge of his new house, and they are 
 living cosily together, though both feel keenly 
 the disgrace that has come through the conduct 
 of the Deacon and Elijah. The world is not 
 ready for an unqualified indorsement of the 
 wholesome adage, " A man can disgrace only 
 himself." 
 
 James has a great deal of " business at Ber 
 wick, 11 and he spends as many pleasant hours 
 with Bessie Jones as his busy life will permit. 
 She is enjoying her vacation, and is trying to 
 master Greek. Harry tells her she has " mas 
 tered a Congressman, 11 and her ambition should 
 be satisfied. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE ABUSE OF THE PARDONING POWER. 
 
 , DEACON, I got your letter, and 
 here I am." 
 
 "You ve been a good wile comin , 
 Squire. 1 
 
 " I was detained by a perplexing lawsuit." 
 "Law suits is most allers perplexin, ain t 
 they? Leastwise, mine has been." 
 
 "They usually perplex the client more than 
 the attorney, but mine was perplexing to both." 
 "What was the matter? Hadn t the feller 
 nothin to pay fees with? " 
 
 "I was both client and attorney, Deacon. 
 There was no fee in the case." 
 
 "I s pose you hain t no appertite for lawin 
 without money, have you, Squire?" 
 "Not much, Elijah." 
 
 " Stop your foolin , Elijah, and let Squire and 
 me git to bizness." 
 
The Abuse of the Pardoning Power. 201 
 
 " What can I do for you, Deacon? " 
 "The AVarden says you can see the Gov ner 
 and git me and Elijah pardoned out o here." 
 "That s easier said than done, Deacon. 1 
 " It s the same Gov ner that appinted Jack 
 Blunt, ain t it?" 
 
 " Yes; he s on his third term now. 1 
 "Then you can fetch him. T ain t no more 
 work to pardon me and Elijah than tis to 
 appint a justice, specially such a one as Jack 
 Blunt." 
 
 "But the Governor don t like to take the 
 responsibility of exercising the pardoning 
 power, and it will cost me a great deal of 
 money to get you pardoned." 
 
 " How much will you have to pay him? " 
 " I won t have to pay the Governor anything. 
 He s an honest man, and I wouldn t dare to 
 offer him a bribe; but I 11 have to get the jury, 
 the Judge, and the court officers to sign a peti 
 tion for your pardon, and that will take a great 
 deal of time and money. I 11 make you a pro 
 position, Deacon." 
 " Les heer it." 
 " I 11 undertake your case, spend my own 
 
202 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 money, and if I fail it will be my loss; if I 
 succeed I will keep the Bently farm, the 
 township of timber land, and the old Smith 
 farm, and I will deed you back your home 
 place." 
 
 "That s a orful propersishun, Squire. The 
 property is wuth thirty thousand dollars. We d 
 better stay our time out and have somethin 
 when we do git out." 
 
 " That may do for you, Elijah, for you Ve only 
 three years and a half to stay; but your father 
 has six years and a half, and that, in this place, 
 will be equivalent to his life time." 
 
 " If he s goin to die poor, he might as well 
 die here as anywhere. ! 
 
 " So I had, Elijah. I 11 never give it." 
 
 "All right, Deacon. I ll bid you good day. 
 Stay here six months longer and you 11 be glad 
 to come to my terms." 
 
 "Hold on, Squire. I ll give you the old 
 Smith farm." 
 
 , sir." 
 
 "I ll give you the old Smith farm and the 
 Bently farm. 1 
 
 "Don t do it, father. They re wuth five or 
 
The Abuse of the Pardoning Power. 203 
 
 six thousand dollars, and a thousand dollars a 
 year is big pay for stayin here." 
 
 " I can make that much speckerlatin if I s 
 out o here." 
 
 " All right, Squire. Dad 11 let em go." 
 
 "But I can t take them, Elijah. I shall 
 adhere to my first proposition/ 
 
 " I won t give it, Squire." 
 
 "All right. Good day. Let me hear from 
 you when you want to get out." 
 
 The avaricious pettifogger went home* and 
 drew up a petition for the pardon of Hezekiah 
 and Elijah Wells. He secured the signatures of 
 the jurors by appealing to their sympathy for 
 Mrs. Wells. He found it more difficult to get 
 the names of the court officers and members of 
 the bar, but finally succeeded in procuring a 
 majority of them by a free utterance of the 
 magical name of James Wells. James was 
 deservedly popular with them, and the unscru 
 pulous apology for a lawyer took advantage of 
 this, in order to further his interest. James 
 knew nothing about the proceedings, and 
 Esquire Gray used his name without authority. 
 He had Deacon Wells in his power, and if he 
 
2O4 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 could not secure the valuable timber land he 
 would take the farms; but he "calculated" that 
 the old Deacon would accept his proposition, and 
 he was not mistaken. His papers were barely 
 perfected when a letter was received from Dea 
 con Wells stating that he " would take the 
 propersishun, but it was orful hard. Elijah 
 did n t want him to do it, but he could n t 
 stay there no longer/ 1 Esquire Gray wrote an 
 agreement, visited the prison, procured the 
 Deacon s signature, and then went to see the 
 Governor. 
 
 " Good morning, Governor." 
 
 " Good morning, Esquire Gray. How do 
 you do?" 
 
 " Well, I thank you." 
 
 " I m really glad to see you. Take a seat." 
 
 "Are you at leisure this morning?" 
 
 " I am to meet some friends from Portland at 
 eleven o clock. I shall be at leisure until that 
 hour. Can I do anything for you?" 
 
 a Yes, sir. I have a petition here for the 
 pardon of Deacon Wells and his son, Elijah." 
 
The Abuse of the Pardoning Power. 205 
 
 " Deacon Wells is the father of Congressman 
 Wells, is he not?" 
 "Yes, sir." 
 "The penitentiary is an odd place for a 
 
 deacon." 
 
 " Yes, sir; but he is an odd kind of a deacon, 
 although his punishment was altogether too 
 severe." 
 
 " I have almost forgotten the circumstances. 
 I believe he was convicted on a charge of 
 forgery? " 
 
 u Yes, sir; for forging a deed. He had pur 
 chased the property at Sheriff s sale, but no 
 notice had been served on one of the heirs, 
 and the Deacon signed her name to the deed. 
 He is a very ignorant man, and did not realize 
 the magnitude of the crime." 
 
 "How does it come that his son is so bright? 
 He has made a good record in Congress." 
 
 " He takes alter his mother." 
 
 " How is the other son? " 
 
 "He knows even less than his father. He 
 was considered the greatest dunce in the 
 village." 
 
2o6 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 "Did James Wells speak of visiting me in 
 the interest of his father?" 
 
 "No, sir. He thought I had better come. 
 He feels a little hesitancy about asking a favor 
 of you. You know he supported your opponent 
 for the nomination. He spoke of you in flatter 
 ing terms; but John Yale was an old college 
 mate of Jim s, and he had to support him. We 
 took a sharp tilt at each other on your account, 
 and it created a little feeling between us; but 
 it s all over now. Jim has a great deal of 
 influence in our part of the State, and by grant 
 ing this pardon you will make him your fast 
 friend." 
 
 " I thought there was a little feeling between 
 you after the Congressional Convention had 
 adjourned?" 
 
 " Oh, no. There J s no truth in the report that 
 I didn t support him. I voted for him." 
 
 " I never heard that you did n t vote for him. 
 I was told that a little feeling existed after the 
 nomination." 
 
 " I suppose every man feels a little sore after 
 a defeat; but Jim and 1 are all right now." 
 
The Abuse of the Pardoning 1 Power. 207 
 
 " That s right, Esquire. There s nothing like 
 pulling together in the harness." 
 
 " You 11 find us ready to pull together when 
 you want our services, Governor/ 
 
 " Thank you. I always look for a good report 
 from your town, Esquire." 
 
 " In future, as in the past, you will find me 
 ready to work for my friends, Governor/ 
 
 " How does everything look down there this 
 year?" 
 
 "Yery flattering, indeed. We are all wide 
 awake, and will roll up a larger majority for you 
 than ever." 
 
 " I am glad to hear it, for I shall need all the 
 votes I can get. The opposition are giving me 
 a hard fight this year." 
 
 " I know it s an i off year, but you need not 
 fear the result." 
 
 " They are trying to force me to take a posi 
 tion on the question of Free Trade." 
 
 "Why don t you do it? Free Trade is popu 
 lar with us, and you would gain largely by 
 declaring in favor of it." 
 
 " But there are conflicting interests. The ship 
 builders in your locality, as elsewhere, favor 
 
208 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 Free Trade, while our manufacturers demand 
 protection." 
 
 " I did n t think of that. Can t you perform 
 the great political two-horse act?" 
 
 " That will do in National, but not in State 
 politics." 
 
 " Have you determined what you will do if 
 the opposition press the question?" 
 
 " I think I shall dodge it. I can take the 
 ground that mine is simply an executive office, 
 and it is not my province to make laws." 
 
 " That s the doctrine, Governor." 
 
 " I think so. It s the only safe ground for me 
 to occupy in this canvass." 
 
 " It will take you through all right, Governor." 
 
 "I hope so. But we must get through with 
 our business. It s almost eleven." 
 
 " Here is the petition." 
 
 " How long have they been in prison ? " 
 
 "About seven months." 
 
 " What is their sentence? " 
 
 "The Deacon s is seven years and Elijah s 
 four." 
 
 16 They must stay a while longer, Esquire. It 
 will never do to pardon them so soon." 
 
The Abuse of the Pardoning Power. 209 
 
 " Seven months, in the penitentiary, is a long 
 time, Governor/ 
 
 "So it is; but we are on the eve of an elec 
 tion, and the papers have made a great fuss 
 about what they are pleased to term the abuse 
 of the pardoning power. 
 
 "The election will be over in three weeks. 
 Can I give them the assurance that they will be 
 pardoned as soon as you have time to examine 
 the papers?" 
 
 " I want to oblige you, Esquire; but the news 
 papers will give me a fearful lashing if I pardon 
 them so soon." 
 
 "There are no papers in Elton." 
 
 " I know it; but there are a great many in the 
 immediate vicinity." 
 
 " Not many." 
 
 " There are two at Glen vi lie, two at Selridge, 
 one at Melton, and one at Berwick." 
 
 " They are all in Jim Wells district, and I 
 will get the publishers to sign this petition. 
 That will spike their guns." 
 
 " Can you get the opposition publishers to 
 sign it?" 
 
 " I think I can. They are all very friendly to 
 
2io A Century of Gossip. 
 
 Jim, and I will work up a sympathy for Mrs. 
 Wells that will induce them to sign it. 11 
 
 "Newspaper publishers are not the most 
 sympathetic men in the world." 
 
 " They are all right outside of politics, Gov 
 ernor; and if you ll agree to pardon my clients 
 immediately after the election on condition that 
 I get the signatures of the publishers to this 
 petition, I will rest easy." 
 
 " All right. I 11 do it." 
 
 " Good bye, Governor." 
 
 " Good bye, Mr. Gray. Keep up my end of 
 the string in Elton." 
 
 "We ll give you a majority that will make 
 you feel proud of us, Governor." 
 
 "Well, Squire, did you see the Gov ner?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Have you got our pardon in your pocket?" 
 
 "No, Deacon; but I think I m in a fair waj r 
 to get it. I m bringing all the influences that I 
 can command to bear on the Governor. The 
 papers have been pitching into him for abusing 
 the pardoning power, lately, and I must get the 
 
The Abuse of the Pardoning Power. 211 
 
 newspaper men of Glenville, Selridge, Melton, 
 and Berwick to sign your petition in order to 
 stop their clack." 
 
 " S posin they won t do it? " 
 
 "Then I can t get you pardoned." 
 
 " Seems to me t is a queer noshun for a feller s 
 pardon to depend on them newspaper chaps." 
 
 " There s where it hinges. How many of the 
 papers did you take?" 
 
 " I did n t take none of em. Me and Elijah 
 don t b leve in newspapers, and Jim and 
 Patience used to borry their n." 
 
 "Are you acquainted with any of the editors? " 
 
 " I know the edytur of the Glenville Hanner. 
 Me and him had a spat after Jim was nominated 
 for a Congressman. He s a little mite of a cuss 
 with a big forrid, and sassy er n blazers." 
 
 " I 11 have a hard time of it with him, 
 Deacon." 
 
 " Do n t tell him the petishun is for me, 
 Squire. Git him to sign it without lookin 
 at it." 
 
 " Editors do n t sign papers that way, Deacon. 
 He s a great friend of Jim s. Perhaps I can 
 get him to sign it for that reason." 
 
212 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 " Do n t let Jim know what you re up to, or 
 he 11 spile your little game, Squire." 
 
 " I 11 keep mum so far as he s concerned, 
 Elijah." 
 
 " For my part I ain t a carin wether they sign 
 the petishun or not. If they do n t, we 11 save 
 the land, and if I s dad I d stick it out afore I cl 
 pay such a dredful price to git out o here. You 
 ask a good deal more n tis wuth to do the 
 work, Squire." 
 
 " You have no adequate idea of the magnitude 
 of the undertaking, Elijah." 
 
 "Hain t no what?" 
 
 " No idea of the work." 
 
 "That s right. Put it in English and I can 
 understand what you re talkin about; but I 
 could do the work in a week and cut the fire 
 wood in the bargin." 
 
 " You could n t do it in a life-time, Elijah." 
 
 " If it wan t for dad you would n t git the job, 
 Squire. How much of the timber land will 
 you take to git dad out and let -me stay? " 
 
 " It is the same labor to get one out as both." 
 
 "I don t see how that comes." 
 
 "That s because you don t understand it." 
 
The Abuse of the Pardoning Power. 213 
 
 "The papers is signed, Elijah, and tis too 
 late to make a fuss about it now/ 
 
 " I s pose t is, fatker, but it s a orful shame to 
 let that timber priv lege go." 
 
 " I know t is, but it can t be helped. I 11 
 make Jack Blunt smart for it when I git out." 
 
 "You 11 have to catch him first, Deacon. 
 He s gone back to the Provinces." 
 
 "I know jest where to look for him, Squire/ 
 
 "Well, good day, Deacon. I must go. Tis 
 almost train time." 
 
 " How long afore you 11 git us out? " 
 
 " It will take me a week to get the additional 
 signatures. I will then forward the papers, and 
 your pardon will probably come as soon as the 
 Governor can find time to examine them." 
 
 " T won t take him long to examine em, 
 will it?" 
 
 " I hope not; but the campaign takes most of 
 his time, now-a-days." 
 
 "Tell him he ll git two more votes if he gits 
 me and Elijah out before the elekshun. That ll 
 hurry him up." 
 
 " All right. I 11 tell him. Have you any 
 word to send to your wife?" 
 
214 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 " Yes. Tell her she d better not sell no more 
 butter now. If she 11 put it down in pickle 
 she 11 git a bigger price for it in the winter." 
 
 " I suppose you know she has shut up the 
 house and gone to live with Jim? " 
 
 "Shot up the house! No. I didn t know it. 
 I 11 make her smart for it when I git out. 
 What s she done with the critters?" 
 
 " I do n t know." 
 
 " What s she done with the hens, Squire? " 
 
 "I don t know." 
 
 " If them hens is gone I ll raise a rumpus 
 when I git home." 
 
 "Find out what she s done with everything 
 and send me a letter about it, Squire." 
 
 " All right, Deacon. I 11 find out if I can." 
 
 " If you can t find the hens, go over to Phil 
 Craig s. He s been tryin to buy em of me for 
 more n a year, and I 11 bait he s got em." 
 
 "All right. I ll see him." 
 
 Esquire Gray found the newspaper publishers 
 more " sympathetic " than the Governor pre 
 dicted, and had no difficulty in procuring their 
 
The Abuse of the Pardoning Poiver. 215 
 
 names. In due time the petition was forwarded, 
 and the pardon anxiously awaited. The election 
 passed, the Governor was successful, and Esquire 
 Gray after waiting two weeks grew impa 
 tient. He wrote to the Governor, reminding 
 him of his promise. In a few days he received 
 an answer. The petition " would be examined 
 immediately." Without further delay the neces 
 sary papers were sent to the Prison Warden at 
 Thomaston, and Hezekiah and Elijah Wells were 
 free. The pardoning power was grossly abused 
 by a man whom no one dared to approach with 
 money; yet he was bribed by the promise of 
 political preferment an influence more subtle 
 and far more potent than gold. 
 
 (By a recent act of the Legislature of Maine 
 the pardoning power is withheld, and the ends 
 of justice can no longer be subverted by political 
 demagogues.) 
 
 Deacon Wells and his son returned to Elton 
 without delay. Patience, contrary to the wishes 
 of James, returned to her former home and took 
 upon herself the burdens of her old life. The 
 Deacon and Elijah -were more crnel than ever, 
 and the suffering wife and mother silently sub- 
 
216 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 mitted, hoping tliat death would soon deliver her 
 from a voluntary bondage; but the Angel of 
 Death heeded not her prayer. Cruel and 
 relentless, he comes not at the bidding of the 
 weary and worn. He lingers on the threshold, 
 unmindful of the tired heart s anguish, and 
 heeds not the cry of the soul-sick sojourner, 
 who fain would plunge into the noiseless, fath 
 omless river. 
 
CHAPTEE X. 
 
 DIVORCED. 
 
 ALL the poor man back, Deacon. It is 
 J cruel to turn him from your door on 
 such a bitter night." 
 
 a Do n t call me deacon no more, Patience. 
 They Ve turned me out o church for nothing 
 and I won t be deaconed by nobody." 
 
 "I ll call you anything you wish me to; but 
 please don t let that poor man perish in the 
 cold. Will you call him back? " 
 
 "No. I 11 be blowed if I do. He needn t 
 freeze if he do n t want to. There s other houses 
 in Elton, and he can git into em." 
 
 " It is late, and most of our neighbors are in 
 bed. If the poor man should freeze to death his 
 blood would be on our hands, Dea Hezekiah." 
 
 " I m boss of my own house, Patience, and 
 that fellow can t stay here to-night if he does 
 
 freeze; so that s the end of it." 
 (217) 
 
2i8 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 "I know this is your house, Hezekiah; but 
 God will deal with us as we deal with His chil 
 dren." 
 
 " I do n t want none of your preachin , Pa 
 tience. I 11 be " 
 
 Patience Wells left the room. She could 
 not remain and listen to his profanity one 
 of his early habits revived at Thomaston, not 
 withstanding the salutary influence of the prison 
 chaplain. 
 
 The following evening Elijah, almost breath 
 less, entered the sitting room. 
 
 " Father, who d you s pose you turned out 
 doors last night?" 
 
 "I do n t know. Some vagabone." 
 
 "No twan t. Twas Uncle George, from 
 Novy Skoshy." 
 
 "How do you know? " 
 
 " I heerd it at the shoe shop when I se in to 
 git my boots tapped." 
 
 "Where did he go to?" 
 
 " Up to Jim s. They say he s got a pile, and 
 the boys was laffin at me cause you wouldn t 
 let him stay all night." 
 
 "Yes, and he ll leave it all to Jim, now. 
 
Divorced. 2 1 9 
 
 There s more of your work, Patience. You re 
 allers spilin 1 my luck. 1 
 
 "Why, Hezekiah! I wanted you to let him 
 in." 
 
 " But you ain t got sprawl enough to take care 
 of folks when I do let em in. That s why I 
 did n t let him stay." 
 
 " I have always endeavored to entertain your 
 friends, Hezekiah/ 1 
 
 " You re allers snivlin round the house, and 
 I m shamed to ask nobody to come." 
 
 " I try to appear cheerful in presence of your 
 company. 
 
 " You orter be allers cheerful and thankful to 
 boot, Patience. You s nothin but a poor orfin 
 when I marrid you. If it hadn t been for me 
 you would n t had no home." 
 
 "I ll admit that I married you for a home, 
 Mr. Wells, and I have paid the penalty of my 
 folly. I have been your slave and you have 
 been a cruel master. This house is to me sim 
 ply an abiding place, a shelter from the storm. 
 It is not home. Through all the wearisome 
 years that I have borne your name, you have 
 not given me a kind word or a smile. Better, 
 
22O A Century of Gossip. 
 
 a thousand times better, a homeless orphan than 
 an unloved wife. Heaven pity the poor girl 
 that marries for a home." 
 
 "Then you marrid me for my money? It s 
 preshus little of it you 11 git if I do die fust. 
 I ve made my will/ 
 
 " I do n t want any of your money, Mr. 
 Wells." 
 
 "What do you want? 
 
 "Nothing but rest." 
 
 " I s pose you want me to hire a gal and let 
 you go gaddin round among the neighbors?" 
 
 " That s jest what she wants, father. She s 
 been up to Jim s til she s got spiled." 
 
 " And I wish you d stayed up to Jim s, Pa 
 tience. I don t want you snivlin round here." 
 
 " I will go to-morrow." 
 
 " I m glad you have come, mother. I ve 
 been very lonely without you. The house has 
 not seemed like home since you left. You shall 
 be tenderly cared for, and we will be so happy 
 together." 
 
 " I cannot be happy, James. I am grateful 
 
Divorced. 221 
 
 for your kindness, and your house shall be my 
 refuge while I m waiting." 
 
 " You shall be happy, dear mother; and God 
 grant that you may wait for many, many years." 
 
 " What have I to wait for, James? " 
 
 " You have me, mother." 
 
 "So I have, my dear boy; and you are very 
 near to me; but I am so tired. I have waited 
 so long for the summons, that life seems almost 
 interminable. When the body is bent by age, 
 and the heart withered by neglect, the tired soul 
 must rest." 
 
 "You shall lind rest here, dear mother; rest 
 for your body and rest for your soul. You have 
 broken the chain that bound you to a cruel, ex 
 acting husband, and you will enjoy your free 
 dom. You must petition, at once, for a divorce." 
 
 For an instant a glad light beamed from the 
 hazel eyes of Patience Wells. Could she, in 
 deed, be free? Could she sever the chains that 
 bound her, body and soul, to a man whom she 
 utterly despised? Could she walk forth from 
 the shadowy depths into the broad, full light of 
 a new life? The thought was Heaven to her; 
 but it was too bright, too gladdening to dwell in 
 
222 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 the heart of Patience Wells. The prejudice of 
 her early training bound her still. She could 
 not hush the warning voice of a conscience that 
 had, in early life, been committed to the keeping 
 of "blind leaders of the blind/ 
 
 " I cannot petition for a divorce. James." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "Because it is wrong. It is contrary to the 
 teachings ot the Bible, which is the rule and 
 guide of Faith." 
 
 "It is contrary to the teachings of men who 
 blindly endeavor to expound God s law, mother. 
 You are already divorced in spirit. Why should 
 you be bound in law? " 
 
 " Were there no other motive to restrain me, 
 I should shrink from the publicity of such a 
 proceeding, as much on your account as on my 
 own. Why urge me to plunge you into deeper 
 disgrace? Are not the crimes of your father 
 and brother enough?" 
 
 " A legal severance of the ties that bind you 
 to Hezekiah Wells would not disgrace either of 
 us, mother. God never joined you together. 
 Why should not man put asunder those whom 
 God hath not joined? You were cruelly de- 
 
Divorced. 223 
 
 ceived, and your marriage has brought you orily 
 sorrow and pain." 
 
 " Let me suffer in silence a little longer, my 
 dear boy. Death will soon divorce us/ 
 
 " It shall not be, dear mother. Free from the 
 vows that bind you to an unnatural husband, 
 you will live many years to brighten my home. 
 
 "You are young and hopeful, James; but you 
 are not a skillful artist. You paint a bright pic 
 ture, leaving out the shadow in the background." 
 
 " But you are not old, dear mother. In the 
 pure atmosphere of a happy home you shall look 
 in vain for the shadow in the background of my 
 picture. We will go out into the great world 
 and enjoy the beautiful things that God has so 
 lavishly given. Your last days shall be the 
 brightest arid happiest of your life." 
 
 " Do not tempt me to do violence to my con 
 science, James. Wait til I ask God about it." 
 
 " I will wait, dear mother, for I know that He 
 will guide you aright." 
 
 " Squire, I want a divorce from the old wo 
 man. Can you git it for me? " 
 
224 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 " I presume so." 
 
 "What 11 you tax me for it?" 
 
 " About a hundred dollars." 
 
 " It s too much. You orter do it for fifty." 
 
 "Well, Deacon, as you re an old client we 
 won t fall out about the price. What are your 
 grounds for asking a divorce?" 
 
 "Patience is allers interferin with my plans, 
 and goes snivlin round the house every time I 
 make a good bargin and wants me to swap back." 
 
 " That is not sufficient ground for a divorce, 
 Deacon." 
 
 " Must a man be allers tied to a woman that 
 interferes when he 7 s makin money accordin to 
 law?" 
 
 " The Court will require stronger ground than 
 that, Deacon. Has she failed in any of her 
 wifely duties?" 
 
 " She has left my bed and board, but the bed 
 was the one she brought with her when we was 
 marrid." 
 
 < Where is she?" 
 
 " She >s up to Jim s." 
 
 "How did she go? Did she leave you volun 
 tarily?" 
 
Divorced. 225 
 
 " She went afoot." 
 
 " Did yon tell her to leave?" 
 
 The Deacon hesitated. Should he deceive his 
 attorney? The thought flashed across his mind 
 that Elijah could testify, and he answered : 
 
 " No, Squire. She left her own self." 
 
 " Then you can get a divorce." 
 
 " And you ll do it for fifty dollars?" 
 
 "Yes. Seeing it s you." 
 
 " I did think I d never have nothin more to 
 do with you, Squire, cause you. taxed me so 
 steep for that prison bizness ; but it comes sort 
 o nateral to come to you, and if you 11 work 
 cheaper in the futer I 11 keep comin right 
 along." 
 
 " We won t quarrel about prices, Deacon." 
 
 "I don t want to quarrel with nobody, 
 Squire, and when I git seprated from Patience 
 I 11 live pecerble the rest of my days." 
 
 " That s the way to live, Deacon. 4 Live 
 peaceably and die happy, is a good motto." 
 
 " But I m too young to think about dyin , 
 Squire." 
 
 " It is said that the good die young, but 
 15 
 
226 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 that need not prevent you from reaching four 
 score, Deacon." 
 
 "Yes; and maybe more. I belong to a long 
 livin fam ly, and I may live to see seventy- 
 five." 
 
 "What will you do when you grow old, 
 Deacon?" 
 
 " I s pose I 11 set in a corner and chaw ter- 
 backer, like the rest of the old men." 
 
 " You 11 have enough to keep you in good 
 style." 
 
 " Yes ; I 11 have a purty fair nest-aig, but I 
 do n t want no style about me. I b leve in livin 
 plain like, and that s one thing I ve got agin 
 Patience. She wants to be too primp." 
 
 " Can you prove that she s been extravagant 
 and wasteful? " 
 
 "I ll have to have a witness to prove that; 
 won t I, Squire?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 "Well; I can prove it by Elijah. He s a 
 witness." 
 
 " Yes. He 11 do." 
 
 "And I can prove that she fed good soap 
 
Divorced. 22 7 
 
 grease to the liens, and used aigs instead of 
 codfish skin to settle coffee when she had 
 company/ 
 
 " What did she use to settle coffee when she 
 had no company? 
 
 " She did n t make no coffee, them times." 
 
 " Then she is not very extravagant." 
 
 " Yes she is. She d a made it if I d let 
 her." 
 
 "Did she make tea?" 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 "What did you drink?" 
 
 " Sweetened water and buttermilk." 
 
 " Did she make a great deal of pastry?" 
 
 " Make what?" 
 
 " Pies, tarts, cake, etc." 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 "What did she cook?" 
 
 " Fried mush and codfish hash." 
 
 " I will not allege that she was wasteful or 
 extravagant. I will put it on the ground of 
 abandonment." 
 
 "I do n t care what grounds you put it on; 
 but Elijah will swear that she s orful wasting, if 
 you want him to." 
 
228 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 " I do n t think I want him to, Deacon. I 11 
 file the papers at once." 
 
 " All right, Squire. Make em strong." 
 " I will." 
 
 " God has answered your prayer, dear mother. 
 Father has commenced proceedings for a di 
 vorce." 
 
 "Who told you?" 
 
 " I was in the Clerk s office at Glenville, to 
 day, when the papers were filed." 
 
 "What shall I do about it?" 
 
 "I shall see Mr. Ainsworth as soon as the 
 notice is served on yon, and ask him to file a 
 cross bill." 
 
 " You know best, James, and I shall place the 
 matter in your hands." 
 
 u All right, mother. It shall be so managed 
 as to give you but little trouble." 
 
 " Will I have to go to Court? " 
 
 " Yes. We will need you." 
 
 " Is there no way to avoid it? " 
 
 " No, mother. If we let the case go by default 
 the record will show that you were wholly to 
 
Divorced. 229 
 
 blame. He has charged that you voluntarily 
 abandoned him." 
 I will go." 
 
 When the case of Hezekiah Wells vs. Patience 
 Wells was called, Mr. Ainsworth appeared for 
 the defendant and filed a cross bill, setting forth 
 the many acts of cruelty of which the plaintiff 
 was guilty; praying that a divorce, together 
 with alimony, be granted to the defendant. The 
 Court granted the prayer of Patience Wells, and 
 decreed that Hezekiah Wells should pay her the 
 sum of forty thousand dollars, in semi-annual 
 payments of five thousand dollars, with six per 
 cent, interest from the date of the decree. 
 
 When the judgment of the Court was an 
 nounced, Deacon Wells was thunderstruck. He 
 told the Judge he d u ruther live with Patience 
 than pay her more n five hundred dollars," and 
 he " guessed he d dismiss the case and let him 
 take the divorce back." He thought it "a 
 strange proceedin " when the Court informed 
 him that the matter had passed beyond his 
 control. 
 
230 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 "It s orful, Elijah." 
 
 " Shure s you re born." 
 
 "Thirty thousand to git out o prison and 
 forty thousand to git red of a wife, all in one 
 year." 
 
 " Yes; and I m the wust loser by it." 
 
 "You re the only loser, Elijah. There s 
 enough left to last me my life time." 
 
 "And they say Jim s wuth fifty thousand 
 dollars, and still a makin of it; and he 11 git 
 all this forty thousand." 
 
 " Yes; Patience 11 give it all to him." 
 
 " Shure s you re born/ 
 
 " If we can lose seventy thousand dollars in a 
 year, how long will it take to lose a hundred 
 thousand, Elijah?" 
 
 "I don t know." 
 
 "You orter know. You studied rithmetick 
 in skule." 
 
 " But that s a sum in desolate frackshuns, and 
 I ve forgot em." 
 
 "You orter remember your skulin , Elijah. 
 You may have to depend on it for a livin if 
 things keep goin this way." 
 
 "I ll never teech skule for a livin as long 
 
Divorced. 231 
 
 as there s any yearlins in the country for 
 
 sale." 
 
 " It 11 keep us humpin to make them semmy 
 
 aneral payments, Elijah." 
 
 "What is semmy aneral payments, father?" 
 " Once in two years, Elijah. It s strange how 
 
 fast you re forgittin your jografy." 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 GEORGE WELLS. 
 
 ON T you want to take a ride with me, 
 to-day, Uncle George?" 
 
 " I shall be pleased to go, James. Tis 
 a delightful morning and I always enjoy a 
 sleighride." 
 
 " All right. I shall be ready in an hour. 
 In the mean time you can have a chat with 
 mother." 
 
 u Go and attend to your business, James. 
 Don t worry about me. I am enjoying my 
 visit so much that I fear I shall protract it 
 beyond the allotted time." 
 
 George Wells, as the reader has already 
 divined, is wholly unlike Hezekiah. They were 
 as widely different in their youth as in their 
 manhood. George was studious, industrious, 
 and upright, while Hezekiah was thoughtless, 
 
 lazy, and dishonest. While George was at 
 
 (232) 
 
George Wells. 233 
 
 school, Hezekiah was robbing bird s nests or 
 indulging in cock-fighting. His associates were 
 idle and dissolute, and he went on from bad to 
 worse until, at the age of twenty-two, he was 
 compelled to leave home, or suffer the penalty of 
 the offended law. He fled to Calais, where he 
 engaged in smuggling. His operations were 
 successful, and during a period of three years 
 he accumulated several thousand dollars. Stim 
 ulated by good fortune, he openly violated the 
 revenue laws until the officers tracked him, when 
 he fled to Elton, and joined the church in order 
 to conceal his true character and continue his 
 smuggling operations without fear of detection. 
 George, in the mean time, was steadily work 
 ing his way up in the world. He had acquired 
 a fair English education, and was blessed with a 
 liberal share of common sense. He engaged in 
 shipping land plaster to Boston and Philadel 
 phia, and soon became one of the heaviest 
 operators in the Province. After Hezekiah 
 left Calais he heard nothing from him. 2s o 
 letters passed between them. The Deacon 
 heard, through Jack Blunt, that "George was 
 shippin plaster, and was wuth more n a hun- 
 
234 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 dred thousand dollars," but Jack did not make 
 himself known to George. The Deacon was 
 surprised to learn that George had accumu 
 lated a fortune by fair dealing, and had Jack 
 reported the sum correctly his surprise would 
 have been still greater. He did not dream that 
 honest toil would bring a rich reward. Accord 
 ing to his idea, fraud was the only road to 
 wealth. 
 
 A personal notice of " Congressman Wells," 
 in a Boston paper, attracted George s attention, 
 and he read it witli deep interest. He learned 
 that James Wells was the son of a Xova Scotian, 
 and that his home was in Elton. The name was 
 not common in ]S T ova Scotia, and he surmised 
 that James Wells was his nephew. James was 
 a prominent member of Congress, and George 
 fondly hoped that Hezekiah had reformed. 
 Seized by an irresistible desire to see his 
 brother, he went home and made his arrange 
 ments to visit Elton. At Berwick he found the 
 coach crowded, and was compelled to ride on the 
 outside with the driver. This arrangement was 
 satisfactory, notwithstanding the bitter cold, as 
 it would afford him an opportunity to learn 
 
George Wells. 235 
 
 something of James Wells and his family. He 
 gave the driver a "pure Havana," and opened the 
 conversation. 
 
 " Do you know a man named Wells, in 
 Elton?" 
 
 "Oh, yes. Everybody on this route knows 
 Deacon Wells." 
 
 " What s his given name? " 
 
 "Hezekiah." 
 
 " Do you know where he came from ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir; he s from Novy Skoshy." 
 
 "What kind of a man is he?" 
 
 " He s a hard ticket, sir. I guess them Novy 
 Skoshyans is all hard tickets. Leastwise, he and 
 Jack Blunt is. The Deacon has been in the 
 penitenshary, and Jack orter be." 
 
 "What was the Deacon sent for?" 
 
 "He and Lige, his oldest boy, was sent for 
 forgin a deed. The old Deacon got seven years 
 and Lige four." 
 
 "When were they sentenced?" 
 
 u About a year ago. They only had to stay 
 seven or eight months. The Govner pardoned 
 em out three or four months ago." 
 
2 $6 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 " Then James Wells, the Congressman, is not 
 the Deacon s son?" 
 
 " Yes he is; but he s no more like him than 
 I m like a full-feathered angel. Jim s the best 
 feller in Ameriky, and jest as smart as a steel 
 trap. God has quit makin better men than 
 Jim Wells, and I m doubtin if He ever com 
 menced makin em." 
 
 " How does it come that there is such a wide 
 difference between him and Elijah?" 
 
 " Why, you see, the Lord made Jim and the 
 devil made Lige. That s my idee about it, but 
 most folks say it s inherited by Jim and Lige 
 from their father and mother. The Deacon 
 marrid one of the best wimmin that was ever 
 crowded into shoe leather, and Jim s jest like 
 her in looks and actions, while Lige is as much 
 like his father as the telegraph is like a streak 
 of lightnm . It s sort o puzzlin how they 
 come so." 
 
 "Why is Hezekiah called Deacon?" 
 
 " He was a regular blood and thunder deacon 
 til he got into the penitenshary. He jined 
 church to help him in his rum smugglin biz- 
 ness, and he looked so confounded meek and 
 
George Wells. 237 
 
 innersent that they soon made a deacon of him; 
 but he s jest about as fit for a deacon as I am for 
 a minister. His heart s harder n the devil s off 
 horn, and he s got no more religion than a 
 jailer jacket." 
 
 " How many children has he? " 
 "Only Jim and Lige." 
 " Are they married? " 
 
 "No. Jim s got a big house, but he ain t 
 marrid, and there ain t a gal in Elton mean 
 enough to marry Lige." 
 
 "Where does Hezekiah live?" 
 " In a big brown house on the east side of the 
 road, jest above the church." 
 " Does he live in good style? " 
 "I guess he don t put on no scollops sense he 
 got out of prison, and he s too stingy to eat 
 anything but codfish hash. I nerver eat a meal 
 in his house, but they say he lives so cheap that 
 the flies all starve to death, and a church mouse 
 couldn t stan it a week." 
 
 " I am much obliged for your information." 
 " You re intirely welcome, sir. It s a driver s 
 duty to tell a passenger everything he knows, 
 and some of em tell an orful sight more, though 
 
238 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 the drivers on this route is a purty fair set, con- 
 siderin their ockerpashnn." 
 
 " Stage drivers are generally truthful, are they 
 not?" 
 
 " Not so orful. They see a good many gen 
 tlemen and a good many shams. T ain t often 
 we git a geniwine Seth Thomas Havana weed 
 like this. They give us a penny grab and 
 smoke the good ones theirselves. It s the shams 
 that makes the drivers lie." 
 
 " It takes all kinds of people to make a world, 
 you know." 
 
 " Yes, sir; but a stage driver s world is made 
 up mostly of one kind, and I m sorry to say 
 they are not like you, sir. We only know 
 there s big fish cause we see the little ones." 
 
 " I do n t understand your reasoning." 
 
 " If there was n t no big fish to eat the shrimps, 
 it stands to reason that the shrimps wouldn t a 
 been created, and the little men that ride with 
 us was created for somethin ." 
 
 " I suppose nothing was created in vain." 
 
 "Maybe not; but I guess twould puzzle the 
 wise men of Boston to tell what Canady thistles 
 was created for, onless t was to keep boys from 
 
George Wells. 239 
 
 goin barefoot. I do n t believe they was made 
 til after shoemakin was invented." 
 
 " Then you do n t like Canada thistles? " 
 
 " ISTo, sir. I lost my appertite for em when I 
 was a little boy." 
 
 " Were you raised on a farm? " 
 
 " I was n t exactly raised anywhere. I kind o ? 
 growed up twixt a farm and a saw-mill, and 
 then went to stage drivin on this route." 
 
 " How long have you been driving?" 
 
 "Ever sense I s born, almost; but accordin 
 to the way my present father sot my age down 
 in the famly Bible, I was born at fourteen, and 
 I ve been drivin stage ever sense." 
 
 " Do you like it?" 
 
 " Not so overly much ; but it beats nothin all 
 holler. If it s true that this life is the end of a 
 man, I might as well die drivin stage as any 
 thing else." 
 
 " But this life is not the end. There is a life 
 beyond the grave." 
 
 " Maybe there is. I m not prepared to deny 
 it; but they ve argued the question on this 
 route til I ve got all mixed up about it. I 
 took a little feller with a wite choker down 
 
240 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 one trip, and he told me lie had a shure thing on 
 goin to Heaven. The next trip up I took him 
 to Gleiiville for stealin hosses, and the Sheriff 
 said he had a shure thing on goin to the peni- 
 tensliary. And that s the way it goes with 
 stage drivers. They hain t got no shure thing 
 on nothiii but a hard life and poor pay. Here s 
 Elton, sir. Where shall I set you down? " 
 
 " At the hotel, if you please." 
 
 " T ain t much of a hotel. Tis only a 
 country tavern, and a poor one at that." 
 
 " It will not be my first night in a country 
 tavern, my friend." 
 
 u Tell em to give you lots of bed close 
 to-night. There s a big storm a brewin , and 
 it s goin to be a screamer." 
 
 " Thank you. I 11 tell them." 
 
 "Here we are. Run right in. I ll bring 
 your trunk." 
 
 The driver deposited the heavy trunk in the 
 bar-room. George gave him a dollar and two 
 more Havanas. He was profuse in his thanks, 
 and mounted the box apparently unmindful of 
 the bitter cold. " He s a geniwine gentleman, 
 and no mistake. There s no rancid cod-liver ile 
 
George Wells. 241 
 
 about him. He s sound to the core, and knows 
 jest how to treat a whip. Git up, boys. It s 
 goin to be colder n a Glenville prayer meetin 
 afore you git there." 
 
 George Wells was greatly depressed by the 
 stage driver s account of Hezekiah s criminal 
 conduct. He was tempted to return to his home 
 without making himself known to his relatives, 
 but he yielded to a natural desire to see his 
 brother, and started out in the dark. As he 
 approached the house he determined to apply 
 for shelter from the furious storm. The reader 
 knows the result. George went back to the 
 hotel and spent a sleepless night. He had been 
 turned from the door of his only brother in a 
 manner that convinced him of that brother s 
 utter heartlessness. 
 
 The next morning he called on James, who 
 gave him a welcome that induced him to pro 
 tract his visit. James enjoyed his uncle s 
 society, and the attachment was mutual. He 
 managed to spend many of his evenings at 
 home with his mother and "Uncle George," 
 who joined him in urging Patience to apply 
 
 for a divorce. It was not strange that George 
 16 
 
242 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 should be irresistibly drawn toward James and 
 Patience. They were all the world to him, for 
 all his relatives were in Elton. He avoided 
 Ilezekiah and Elijah, and was content with 
 James, Patience, and his books. 
 
 At the appointed time James drove up to the 
 door. 
 
 "All ready, Uncle?" 
 
 " All ready, James." 
 
 " Where shall we drive?" 
 
 " Anywhere. Your company and the ride is 
 what I want." 
 
 u I have a young friend, about twelve miles 
 from here, whom I think you will like. He lives 
 on the Berwick road, and it is a pleasant drive. 
 Shall we go there?" 
 
 " I shall be pleased to meet any of your 
 friends." 
 
 u You will like Harry Jones. He is crippled, 
 and is necessarily confined to the house; but 
 he is a good conversationist, and you will be 
 surprised at his thorough knowledge of the 
 world." 
 
 " Was he born a cripple? " 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
George Wells. 243 
 
 u Then he owes his knowledge of the world to 
 books?" 
 
 "And newspapers." 
 
 a It is difficult to determine which are the best 
 educators." 
 
 u We could not get along without both; yet I 
 should give newspapers the preference." 
 
 " We differ on that point, James. Books con 
 tain all that is worth preserving." 
 
 "By no means, Uncle. It is simply a more 
 convenient form of preserving important facts. 
 The Press has made rapid strides in the past 
 twenty years, and the newspaper gives us not 
 only the current events of the day, but a concise 
 history of the past. It treats of scientific sub 
 jects and presents them in the most pleasing 
 form. The man who confines himself to books, 
 knows comparatively little of the great world in 
 which he lives. The newspaper of to-day is the 
 foundation for many books. It is the source of 
 the book- writer s information." 
 
 " But newspapers contain so much that is 
 pernicious." 
 
 "The same is true of books. We have the 
 
244 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 good and the bad in both, but the good predom 
 inates." 
 
 "How is it with the great human family, 
 James? Does the good predominate?" 
 
 " I think it does. I have seen more good than 
 evil in the world." 
 
 u That is not the prevailing opinion. Your 
 experience is widely at variance with many close 
 observers." 
 
 " That is because they shut their eyes to the 
 good, and see only the evil that is in the world. 
 They are not impartial observers." 
 
 " There is so much crime in the world, James. 
 Murder and theft are of daily occurrence, and 
 the social evil is alarming in its extent and rapid 
 growth." 
 
 " I believe that nine of every ten men are 
 honest, and ninety-nine of every hundred women 
 are virtuous, Uncle. One rascal will make 
 more noise in the world than a dozen honest 
 men." 
 
 " I hope you will never have occasion to 
 change your mind, James. It is best to look 
 on the bright side." 
 
George Wells. 245 
 
 " And there is a bright side to every real 
 picture." 
 
 " But it is not always visible, James. Some 
 people are so constituted that they can t see the 
 bright things in the world." 
 
 " They are not real folks, Uncle. Only the 
 visionary spend their lives in mourning over 
 fancied grievances." * 
 
 " Acute pain is born of imaginary ills, and the 
 real is no worse than the seeming. Look at the 
 vast number of people who have the blues 
 without a cause. Are they not deserving of 
 sympathy?" 
 
 "Certainly they are; but they are not prac 
 tical people. No man with a well-balanced mind 
 will be blue without a cause. Blues is 
 simply another name for mild insanity." 
 
 " Then the world is only an asylum for the 
 insane." 
 
 " By no means. The great majority of man 
 kind are not troubled with the k blues. It is 
 usually inherited, and should be treated as other 
 diseases of the mind." 
 
 "What is your prescription, James?" 
 
 " I am not a physician, Uncle, but I derived 
 
246 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 great benefit from the stereotyped prescription: 
 Hard work, pleasant companions, pure air, and 
 wholesome food." 
 
 "Then you have had the blues?" 
 
 " Yes, sir; but I have entirely recovered." 
 
 "I have taken your prescription for years, 
 with the exception of the pleasant companions, 
 and have found no relief." 
 
 " You have omitted an important ingredient. 
 Add the pleasant companions and I will guar 
 antee a permanent cure." 
 
 " Thank you. I will act on your suggestion. 
 I am satisfied that I have lived too much alone." 
 
 " It seems so strange that you never married, 
 Uncle." 
 
 " My bride is in Heaven, James. She went 
 home two weeks before the day appointed for 
 our wedding. Sometimes, when I am very, very 
 lonely, I go and sit beside her grave and imagine 
 that I feel her presence. It may be only seem 
 ing, but the solace is real. It has robbed death 
 of its sting and the grave of its terrors. The 
 hope that we may be united has been the one 
 great comfort of my life. When I would sin, 
 her gentle influence restrains me. When I 
 
George Wells. 247 
 
 would die, she bids me live. She guides me 
 now as in the long ago, when her pure life and 
 kindly teachings revealed the glories of a blessed 
 immortality/ 
 
 For a time, both were silent; both were think 
 ing. They were trying to solve the mystery of 
 our being. George was first in giving utterance 
 to his thoughts, and a long discussion on the 
 subject of spiritualism followed. A subject 
 nearest the heart and farthest from the brain; 
 a theme that man cannot grasp, and upon 
 which the angels are silent. 
 
 Bessie Jones was spending a week with Harry 
 while the school house at Elton was being 
 repaired. Although no longer compelled to 
 work, she could not remain idle, and her 
 attachment for her old pupils induced her to 
 teach another term. James introduced his 
 uncle, and a few hours were spent in pleasant 
 and profitable conversation. George was so well 
 pleased with Harry and Bessie that he asked 
 James to drive down again during the week a 
 proposition that was gladly accepted. At four 
 o clock they started for home. 
 
 " You didn t speak of the young lady on the 
 
248 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 way down, James. She seems as much your 
 friend as Harry." 
 
 " I think I did n t mention her name. "We 
 were talking so steadily about other subjects that 
 I forgot to speak of her. She is a very dear 
 friend. What do you think of her?" 
 
 " She is an intelligent, sensible, womanly 
 woman, James. I like her very much." 
 
 " So do I. We agree on that point, Uncle. I 
 hope the day is not far distant when she will be 
 more to me than a dear friend." 
 
 " Such a union cannot be otherwise than 
 happy, my dear nephew, and I hope you will be 
 abundantly blessed." 
 
 " Thank you." 
 
 " I thought she was more than a friend, James. 
 I noticed that she blushed deeply when that 
 old lady asked when you would want the little 
 stockings/ 
 
 "You will have to visit Bessie and Harry 
 without me, to-day, Uncle." 
 "Why so?" 
 " I have just received a dispatch from Mr. 
 
George Wells. 249 
 
 Ainsworth, stating that an important case in 
 which we are interested will be called for trial 
 to-morrow." 
 
 " Can t you get back in time to take the 
 evening stage? 
 
 " I am going, up with Mr. Lamb. We will 
 start in about an hour. You can drive the 
 blacks without trouble, if you 11 hold them back 
 a little on the start." 
 
 "I am not much of a horseman; but I can 
 either manage them or accept the alternative, 
 and let them run." 
 
 " Here they are. I will see if John has every 
 thing all right." 
 
 " I 11 risk John. He is very careful/ 
 
 " All right, Uncle. Jump in." 
 
 George took the reins, and the blacks started 
 off in a brisk trot. As they descended the hill, 
 near Mrs. Love s, they began to run, and soon 
 became unmanageable. George tried in vain to 
 check their speed. At the foot of the hill a 
 yoke of oxen were plodding along with a heavily 
 loaded sled. The danger of a collision was 
 imminent. George could not turn the horses 
 from the road and the oxen could not get out of 
 
250 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 the way. Robbie Bently, who was walking up 
 the hill, took in the situation at a glance, and 
 resolved to stop the horses, if possible. On the 
 opposite side of the road was a deep snow-drift. 
 If he could frighten them into the drift they 
 could be easily checked. He stood very near the 
 road until they were almost upon him, when he 
 suddenly opened his umbrella. The startled 
 horses plunged into the deep snow and were 
 soon stopped. 
 
 "Thank you, my little man. That was 
 bravely done." 
 
 "You re welcome, sir. Is anything broke?" 
 
 " I believe not." 
 
 Robbie waited until George quieted the horses 
 by patting their necks, when he started up the 
 hill. 
 
 u Hold on, my brave fellow. Here s a little 
 spending money for you." 
 
 "Thank you. I don t want any money, sir." 
 
 " But you must take it. I shall not feel right 
 unless you do." 
 
 " This is too much, sir. It s a ten-dollar bill." 
 
 " I know it. I think t is a cheap runaway, 
 too. What is your name? " 
 
George Wells. 251 
 
 "It used to be Robbie Bently; but they call 
 me Ragged Bob since I m only a bound boy. 
 They do n t call me that as much as they used 
 to, though, since Bessie Jones give me this 
 coat." 
 
 "Then Bessie Jones is a good friend, is she?" 
 
 " Yes, sir. She s good to everybody, cause 
 she can t help it. I guess God made her so." 
 
 " How did you happen to have an umbrella 
 this bright morning?" 
 
 " Mr. Lee, the man I live with, borrowed it 
 last night, and I was jest taking it home to Mrs. 
 Love s." 
 
 " It is fortunate for me that he borrowed it. 
 Does Mr. Lee treat you kindly?" 
 
 " I s pose he treats me as well as bound boys 
 are generally treated. T ain t like livin at 
 home, you know." 
 
 " Are your parents dead? " 
 
 "Yes, sir. My father died when I was a little 
 boy. We lived on the place til Deacon Wells 
 bought it and turned us out; then mother died, 
 and we children were bound out." 
 
 " Did Deacon Wells buy the place of your 
 mother?" 
 
252 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 No, sir. He bought it of the Sheriff. 
 Father owed a thousand dollars, and the place 
 had to go to pay it." 
 
 " What is the place worth?" 
 
 " About three thousand dollars." 
 
 " And Deacon Wells bought it for a thou 
 sand?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " And turned your mother out of the house?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Have you any brothers or sisters?" 
 
 " Yes, sir. I have two sisters living. Two 
 of my sisters died last summer." 
 
 " Do they live in Elton? " 
 
 " No, sir. Susie lives at Berwick and Anna 
 at Glenville. She s bound to the tavern 
 keeper." 
 
 " Are they kindly treated? " 
 
 " Bout like the common run of bound girls, I 
 guess." 
 
 " Good morning, my boy. I 11 see you 
 again." 
 
 George Wells resolved to look after the 
 Bently children. They had been wronged by 
 his brother; but he would right that wrong, so 
 
George Wells. 253 
 
 far as money was concerned. He would refund 
 the two thousand dollars, and see that it was 
 wisely expended in educating the orphans. 
 
 " Good morning, Miss Jones." 
 
 "Good morning, Mr. Wells. I am glad to 
 
 see vou." 
 
 " Thank you. You see I have not brought 
 my welcome with me. James was called to 
 Glenville, this morning, and could not come." 
 
 " You are very welcome on your own account, 
 Mr. Wells." 
 
 "I don t doubt it; but we could have a very 
 enjoyable day if James were here." 
 
 "We can have an enjoyable day without 
 him." 
 
 " But it won t be quite so happy, Bessie." 
 
 " I do n t know how much you and Mr. 
 Wells will miss him. I shall enjoy the day 
 very much, Harry." 
 
 "So shall I, Bessie. I am going to be as 
 happy as I can without James; but there is a 
 world of sunshine in his bright eyes, and we 
 shall all miss him." 
 
2 54 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 ," He J s a royal good fellow, Mr. Jones, and it 
 is not strange that you should like him." 
 
 " He has been very good to us, and we appre 
 ciate his kindness. He often gives me a ride 
 behind his beautiful blacks." 
 
 "The blacks ran away with me, this morn 
 ing." 
 
 " How did you stop them ? " 
 "Bobbie Ben tly frightened them into a snow 
 drift." 
 
 " That s an odd way to stop a runaway team." 
 
 " But it is a very sure way, Miss Jones, when 
 the snow is deep enough." 
 
 "How did he frighten them?" 
 
 "He stood beside the road and frightened 
 them by suddenly spreading his umbrella. He 
 was remarkably cool about it." 
 
 "Bobbie is a remarkable boy, Mr. Wells. 
 His opportunities have not been good, but he 
 has improved wonderfully in two years. He is 
 one of my best pupils, and I am anxious to see 
 him succeed. If he could have the privilege of 
 going to school he would learn rapidly. He is 
 kept at home every other day, and yet he keeps 
 up with his class." 
 
George Wells. 255 
 
 " If he was a little further advanced I should 
 like to take him home with me. I need a faith 
 ful boy." 
 
 " TThat do YOU want him to do? " 
 
 " Keep books and attend to my correspond 
 ence." 
 
 " If you will take him one year from now, J[ 
 will guarantee that he shall be qualified. I will 
 teach him book-keeping this winter, and will 
 work very hard to make him all that you desire, 
 so far as it is in my power to do so. I think I 
 can teach him grammar, penmanship and punc 
 tuation during the winter evenings. I will ask 
 Mr. Lee to let him come to Mrs. Love s, where I 
 can devote much time to him. Pardon me for 
 asking so much. I feel a deep interest in Rob 
 bie s welfare." 
 
 " I am glad the poor boy has so true a friend, 
 Miss Jones." 
 
 " He is truthful, intelligent and kind-hearted, 
 Mr. Wells. He is worthy of my friendship. 
 You are aware that he is not educated, if you 
 have talked with him; but a little schooling has 
 wrought such a change that I feel confident that 
 
256 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 he will soon learn what you require ; and I know 
 you can trust him." 
 
 " It shall be as you suggest, Miss Jones. I 
 will take him next winter, if our lives be 
 spared; provided, always, that he will come to 
 me." 
 
 " Thank you, Mr. Wells. He will cheerfully 
 go to you. He is so anxious to do something to 
 help his sisters." 
 
 " Will Mr. Lee let him go? " 
 
 "Oh, yes. He says Eobbie is a burden to 
 him. He will gladly let him go." 
 
 " I will call on Mr. Lee, when I return, and 
 arrange the matter." 
 
 " I am so glad. Poor Eobbie has had a hard 
 life, of late, and the change will be very agreea 
 ble to him." 
 
 "Is Mr. Lee unkind to him?" 
 
 "I don t know that he is positively unkind; 
 but he is rather frugal, and Eobbie works very 
 hard. Mr. Lee tells him that he does not earn 
 the bread he eats, and that is not consoling, you 
 know." 
 
 "No; it isn t very comforting. We will put 
 
George Wells. 257 
 
 Robbie in a place where he can earn his bread, if 
 Mr. Lee will let us do it." 
 
 The day passed in pleasant conversation. Bes 
 sie and Harry persuaded Mr. Wells to remain 
 until after tea, and it was past nine o clock when 
 he drove up to the stable door where John 
 awaited him. 
 
 " Be sure to rub them well, John. "We came 
 along pretty lively." 
 
 " I 11 take good care of the beauties, Mr. 
 Wells. I believe in bein kind to hosses. It s 
 my religion.* 1 
 
 " Your religion is good so far as it goes, John; 
 but I hope it is not restricted to the horses." 
 
 " I m no stricter with em than I orter be. 
 They re the best span of hosses in Maine, and 
 I 11 look out for em as long as they re in my 
 keepin , sir." 
 
 " All right, John. Here s half a dollar to 
 pay you for waiting." 
 
 "Thank you, sir. I ? d like to wait seven eve- 
 nin s in a week on the same terms." 
 
 James was detained three days at G-lenville. 
 On his return, George made arrangements with 
 
 him for educating the Bently girls. James 
 IT 
 
258 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 cheerfully accepted the trust, and added a thou 
 sand dollars to the fund set apart for that pur 
 pose. 
 
 " I shall provide for Robbie myself, James. 
 Bessie Jones is going to teach him book-keeping 
 this winter, and I will take him into my office 
 next year." 
 
 " I m glad you feel an interest in his welfare. 
 His father was an intelligent man, and Robbie 
 closely resembles him. There is something in 
 the boy, and, under proper influences, he will 
 make more than an average man." 
 
 "Bessie Jones will make a man of him, 
 James. She has planned for me, and I heartily 
 indorse her scheme." 
 
 " I know she thinks a great deal of Robbie. 
 She has spoken so favorably of him that I 
 thought of putting him in my office if he 
 wished it; but your plan is better." 
 
 " I must go and see Mr. Lee to-morrow, and 
 get his consent. I called yesterday, but he 
 wasn t at home." 
 
 " Mr. Lee will not give him up without com 
 pensation." 
 
 u Bessie thinks he will gladly let him go." 
 
George Wells. 259 
 
 " She does n t know him as well as I do." 
 
 "He says Bobbie don t earn the bread he 
 eats." 
 
 "That is his way of talking, Uncle. He is 
 narrow and parsimonious. He will riot con 
 sider the welfare of Bobbie, but will measure 
 the matter by the standard of dollars and cents." 
 
 " Then I must buy his consent with dollars 
 and cents, James." 
 
 " I fear you will have to." 
 
 " Good morning, Mr. Lee. I came to see you 
 in regard to Bobbie Bently." 
 
 "Yes, sir. He lives with me. I suppose I 
 shall have to look out for him until he is twenty- 
 one, but he is a poor stick, and is quite a burden 
 to me. I suppose you want to sell him a suit 
 of clothes, but I can t afford to dress him any 
 better. He $ got a good coat." 
 
 " I am not in the clothing business, Mr. Lee." 
 
 " I guess I m mistaken in the man. I took 
 you for the Glenville tailor." 
 
 "My name is Wells. I live at Windsor, 
 Nova Scotia, and I want to take Bobbie Bently 
 
260 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 there next year. He is a burden to you, and I 11 
 take him off your hands if you ll let me." 
 
 "Yes; he s a burden; but I ve got used to 
 his ways, and I guess I 11 keep him." 
 
 " He will suit me, Mr. Lee, and I 11 do well 
 by him if you 11 let him go. I want to put him 
 in my office, and will pay him good wages. You 
 certainly want to see him get ahead in the 
 world." 
 
 " Yes, sir; but I m doing a good part by the 
 boy. I send him to school every other day, and 
 let him sleep in the main part of the house." 
 
 " At twenty-one he will be turned out into 
 the world without a trade or other means of 
 earning a livelihood. I will teach him how to 
 conduct a lucrative business." 
 
 " I ain t very forehanded, Mr. Wells, and I 
 can t afford to let Bob go. I ve taken care of 
 him for two years, and he is getting big enough 
 to earn his living, now." 
 
 " I will give you a hundred dollars if you will 
 let him go next winter." 
 
 " I can t let him go for a hundred dollars, Mr. 
 Wells. He has three years to stay before he 
 will be of age. He is worth three hundred dol- 
 
George Wells. 261 
 
 lars a year to me. He s as good as a man, in 
 haying time, and he plants potatoes, feeds the 
 stock, cuts all my wood, helps my wife wash, 
 and does a great many other things. T would 
 cost me three hundred dollars a year to hire a 
 man to fill his place/ 
 
 "Then he isn t such a burden to you, after 
 all." 
 
 " He has been a burden, but he ain t now. 
 He s money in my pocket, and I d be a fool to 
 let him go." 
 
 "Then you do not consider how much he 
 would be benefited by going with me?" 
 
 " No, sir. I am considering S. B. Lee s inter 
 est just now; not Robert Bently s." 
 
 "Isn t it your duty to help the boy? or, at 
 least, to throw no obstacle in the way of those 
 who are willing to help him ? " 
 
 " I think it s my duty to consult my own 
 interest in the matter, sir. I presume you did 
 not call to teach me my duty? " 
 
 " No, sir. I called for the purpose of aiding 
 a poor, neglected orphan, and I am resolved to 
 do it, either with or without your consent." 
 
 " How can you do it without my consent? 
 
262 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 He was bound to me by a proper officer, and 
 the contract is legal." 
 
 " Did it never occur to you that you were also 
 bound by that contract, Mr. Lee?" 
 
 "Of course I am bound by it. I am bound to 
 feed and clothe him, and I shall keep the con 
 tract." 
 
 " You have already violated it, Mr. Lee. You 
 were bound to send him to school so many 
 months in each year. This you have not done. 
 Even the coat he wears was given him by a 
 friend. His clothing has been scanty and rag 
 ged. Why is he called Kagged Bob? Simply 
 because you have violated your contract and 
 have not dressed him decently. You knew he 
 was friendless arid have shamefully abused him ; 
 but he is friendless no longer and he shall be 
 free from this bondage." 
 
 " What are you going to do about it?" 
 
 " I am going to see lawyer Ainsworth and 
 have the contract annulled." 
 
 Mr. Lee was not prepared for this. He knew 
 that he had broken the contract, and he felt 
 guilty. There was something in George s man 
 ner that convinced the avaricious guardian that 
 
George Wells. 263 
 
 he was in earnest, and would take steps at once 
 for the release of the bound boy. 
 
 " I do n t believe you can have the contract 
 annulled, for I have treated him as well as 
 bound boys are usually treated; but I have no 
 money to fool away in a law suit. I 11 take the 
 hundred dollars and let him go next winter after 
 he gets the wood cut." 
 
 " And you are to let him go to school this 
 winter, and to Mrs. Love s evenings to learn 
 book-keeping of Miss Jones?" 
 
 "I ll let him go to school every other day; 
 and I do n t care where he goes evenings, after 
 he gets his chores done." 
 
 "That won t do, Mr. Lee. He must go to 
 school regularly this winter." 
 
 u Well; I suppose I 11 have to let him go, but 
 I can t spare him very well. I am feeding a 
 good deal of stock this winter." 
 
 " And you must get him some good, warm 
 clothing." 
 
 " All right." 
 
 " Here s your hundred dollars." 
 
 George wrote an article of agreement, which 
 was signed by Mr. Lee, and took his departure. 
 
264 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 He must see Eobbie and get his consent to liis 
 plans. Thus far he and Bessie had proceeded 
 without consulting the bound boy. 
 
 "And so you ve been talking about rne to 
 Mr. Wells, have you? I ve a notion to give 
 you a good licking, young man. 1 
 
 "No, sir. I have n t." 
 
 " Do n t lie to me. Bob. How did he know 
 you only went to school every other day; and 
 how did he know that Bessie Jones gave you 
 that coat?" 
 
 " I told him about Bessie giving me the coat; 
 but I did n t talk about you." 
 
 "And you told him I abused you, and you 
 wanted to leave me and go to Nova Scotia with 
 him?" 
 
 " No, sir. He has n t said anything to me 
 about going to Nova Scotia." 
 
 "Do you want to go? 1 
 
 " Yes, sir. I should like to go if you will let 
 me." 
 
 " Then you want to leave me? " 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
George Wells. 265 
 
 "Why do you want to leave me, Bob? r 
 
 "Because it doesn t seem like home to me 
 here." 
 
 "Have I not treated you kindly?" 
 
 " No, sir. You are always finding i ault with 
 me, and telling me that I m a burden to you." 
 
 "And you told Mr. Wells so?" 
 
 " No, sir. I did n t." 
 
 " Then how did he find it out? " 
 
 "I don t know. It s common talk. The 
 boys at school are always calling me Kagged 
 Bob and Lee s burden. I suppose you talk 
 to others the same as you do to me. 
 
 "Do you think you ll fare any better with 
 Mr. Wells than you do here?" 
 
 " Yes, sir. I think he will be kind to me." 
 
 " And these are the thanks I get for keeping 
 an object of charity from the poor house." 
 
 " I am not an object of charity, Mr. Lee. I 
 have worked very hard for you, and I know I 
 have earned my board and clothing. Fred Ball 
 gets twelve dollars a month for doing less work 
 than I do for you, and you have never given me 
 a dollar. I can t have a pair of skates, a hand- 
 sled or any of the things that other boys have. 
 
266 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 In the two years that I Lave lived with you 1 
 haven t had a cent until Mr. Wells gave me 
 some for stopping his team when it was running 
 away." 
 
 " How much did he give you? " 
 
 " Ten dollars." 
 
 " Ten dollars! What have you done with it?" 
 
 " I Ve got it laid away." 
 
 " Go and bring it to me." 
 
 " Oh, please, Mr. Lee, let me keep it. I want 
 to save it towards getting a plain stone for 
 mother s grave." 
 
 " Bring it to me at once, I say. Why did n t 
 you tell me of it before? It s as bad as stealing 
 to keep money secreted that belongs to me." 
 
 " It do n t belong to you, Mr. Lee. Mr. Wells 
 gave it to me/ 
 
 "And you are a bound boy, and everything 
 you earn belongs to me." 
 
 " I did n t earn it. T was a gift." 
 
 "All that is given to you is mine. You re a 
 fine specimen to talk about buying tombstones. 
 Bring me the money at once, and if you say a 
 word about it to anybody, I ? 11 lick you within 
 an inch of your life." 
 
George Wells. 
 
 26 7 
 
 With tears of regret the bound boy gave up 
 his treasure. And Mr. Lee walked forth into 
 the bright, glad sunlight, and breathed the same 
 pure air as those who wear more than the sem 
 blance of manhood. 
 
CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 ODDS AND ENDS. 
 
 ^fEEE S more trouble, Elijah." 
 I T What s up now, father? " 
 
 u Harry Jones has brung a suit agin me 
 for his intrust in the place." 
 
 a Who brung it for him? " 
 
 " Mr. King; that red-headed cuss that sent us 
 to Thomaston. I ve already paid forty- three 
 thousand dollars for that infernal place." 
 
 " How do you make that out?" 
 
 "I paid five thousand in the fust place, 
 didn t I?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Then I paid Bessie Jones eight thousand 
 more, didn t I?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Then I paid Squire Gray thirty thousand to 
 get us out of the penitenshary, didn t I?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 (208 
 
Odds and Ends. 269 
 
 "Well, that makes forty-three thousand, 
 don t it?" 
 
 "Slmre s you re born." 
 
 " Then I paid Jack Blunt and Tom Siddons 
 fifty dollars for apprisin it, didn t I?" 
 
 Yes." 
 
 " How much does that make, Elijah? " 
 
 " Wait till I git my slate." 
 
 "You orter be able to do that sum in your 
 
 head." 
 
 "They didn t teach no mental rithmetick 
 
 when I went to skule." 
 
 "So they didn t. Skules has changed, like 
 everything else." 
 
 " Yes ; and, like everything else, they ve 
 changed for the wus. Accordin to skules 
 now-a-days, I don t know nothin ." 
 
 " You ll never die of depreshun of the brain, 
 
 Elijah." 
 
 " No. If things keeps on I 11 die in the poor 
 
 house." 
 
 "So you will." 
 
 " What are you goin to do about Harry Jones, 
 
 father?" 
 
270 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 " I m goin to see Squire Gray. You may 
 saddle up old Charley and I 11 start." 
 " I 11 have him ready in a minit." 
 
 " Squire, Harry Jones is after me for his 
 intrust in the place." 
 
 " What are you going to do about it, Deacon?" 
 " That s what I m here to find out." 
 " I think you d better compromise with him. 
 He ll get Ainsworth to fight it for him, and 
 you 11 get whipped every time. Jack Blunt has 
 been blowing about that appraisement." 
 
 " I wish I had him here. I d make him smart 
 for it." 
 
 " The mischief is done, and it s too late to 
 talk about makin him smart now. You 
 should have made him smart enough to keep 
 his tongue still." 
 
 " What do you s pose Harry 11 charge me? " 
 " I don t know. Two or three thousand dol 
 lars, probably. Perhaps more." 
 
 "Yes; it will be shure to be more, Squire." 
 "Do you want me to go and see him?" 
 
Odds and Ends. 271 
 
 " I guess I 11 go and see him myself. Maybe 
 I can beat him down a little." 
 
 " All right, Deacon. Yon go and see him." 
 
 "Look a here, Squire; folks don t call me 
 Deacon no more, and if it s all the same to you, 
 I wish you d quit it." 
 
 " It s all the same to me, Dea Mr. Wells. 
 I 11 call you Mr. Wells after this." 
 
 " Or Ilezekiah, which is all one to me." 
 
 "All right." 
 
 Hezekiah mounted old Charley and called on 
 Harry Jones. He was referred to Mr. Ains- 
 worth. He tried to settle the matter with 
 Harry, but was informed that " Mr. Ainsworth 
 knew all about it." He went back to Esquire 
 Gray and reported the result of his interview. 
 
 " I think you had better go and see Ainsworth 
 yourself, Mr. Wells." 
 
 " I do n t want no dealings with him, Squire. 
 He s too sharp for me. I ve tried him afore. 
 If I go to him lie 11 rig a purchase to make me 
 pay Harry Jones lawyer s fee." 
 
 " Well; I 11 go and see him to-morrow. What 
 is the highest price I m authorized to offer? " 
 
 " It s the lowest price I m after, Squire. 
 
272 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 You re authorized to offer the lowest price 
 
 that ll bring it." 
 
 " Of course, I shall get it as low as I can; but 
 
 suppose he should ask six thousand dollars?" 
 " Git it for live if you can, Squire." 
 "All right. I ll do the best I can for yon." 
 " Do n t offer more n three thousand on the 
 
 start." 
 
 " I won t. How shall I fix the time of pay 
 ment?" 
 
 f Make it in semmy anneral payments, 
 
 Squire." 
 
 " That is rather short time, Mr. Wells. The 
 
 first installment of your wife s alimony will 
 
 be due in about four months, and you will 
 
 have a great deal of money to raise." 
 
 " It ain t due for nigh onto two years, Squire. 
 
 It s in semmy anneral payments." 
 
 " Certainly. Five thousand every six months." 
 " No. Five thousand every two years." 
 "You re mistaken, Mr. Wells. Semi-annual 
 
 means half yearly. You will have to pay five 
 
 thousand dollars every six months." 
 
 " Then I m ruined, Squire. I thought semmy 
 
 anneral was every two years. I can t sell prop- 
 
Odds and Ends. 273 
 
 erty fast enough to pay five thousand dollars 
 every six months." 
 
 " Perhaps you can get the time extended by 
 paying eight or ten per cent, interest." 
 
 " That will be orful, Squire. I m payin ten 
 per cent, on the Bessie Jones morgidge, now, 
 and I can t stan no more ten per cents." 
 
 " I supposed you understood the matter, or I 
 should have asked the Court to extend the time. 
 You made no objection then." 
 
 " Cause I s posed it was once, in two years. 
 Can t you ask the Court to give me more time? " 
 
 " It s too late now. The judgment has been 
 entered on the record." 
 
 " I can t pay it. They 11 have to take what 
 little I ve got and send me to the poor house. 
 You can tell em so, Squire, and maybe they 11 
 give me more time." 
 
 " I 11 see Mr. Ainsworth. He s her attorney." 
 
 "Tell him jest how tis, Squire." 
 
 " I will." 
 
 " How do you do, Mr. Ainsworth?" 
 "All right, Mr. Gray. Take a seat." 
 
 18 
 
274 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 " I ve come to see you again in regard to 
 Deacon Wells business." 
 
 " He has. a great deal of trouble in his old 
 age, and it is the result of his own misdeeds." 
 
 "Yes, sir. He s in trouble now about his 
 wife s alimony and Harry Jones suit." 
 
 " Does he think he can reduce the alimony? " 
 
 " No, sir. He thought the payments were 
 biennial, instead of semi-annual. He cannot 
 meet them, and asks for further time." 
 
 " I think there will be no trouble in extending 
 the time. I will see Mrs. Wells about it." 
 
 " She will probably be governed by your 
 advice. Will you advise her to extend the 
 time?" 
 
 " Yes, sir. I have no desire to persecute the 
 old hypocrite. He has been severely punished 
 already. Now what do you wish to know about 
 Harry Jones case?" 
 
 " I want to compromise it for the very lowest 
 sum that you will take." 
 
 " All right. It is generally the best way to 
 dispose of a lawsuit. Mr. Jones will compro 
 mise and give a quit-claim deed for four thou 
 sand dollars." 
 
Odds and Ends. 275 
 
 " I can get five thousand out of my client, Mr. 
 Ainsworth. Had n t we better settle with Harry 
 for four and divide the other thousand between 
 us?" 
 
 " I do n t practice law that way, Mr. Gray. 
 An attorney that will attempt a trick of that 
 kind should be disbarred." 
 
 " I mean it for fees, you know. You made 
 my client pay Bessie s fees; why not let him 
 pay Harry s in the same way?" 
 
 " That was a very different matter, Mr. Gray. 
 I charged Deacon Wells the regular commission 
 for selling his hemlock bark, and charged Bessie 
 Jones no attorney s fee. It was a legitimate 
 transaction, open and fair. No one was 
 wronged by it, and Bessie Jones was benefited." 
 
 "Well; it shall be just as you say. I only 
 wanted fair play between the parties. If a man 
 tries to take the advantage of orphan children, 
 as my client did, I believe in letting him pay for 
 it. You will charge Harry five hundred dollars, 
 I suppose?" 
 
 " No, sir. If the case is compromised I shall 
 charge him nothing. Mr. King brought the suit 
 
276 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 before he went West, and I have had but little 
 work to do." 
 
 " It is n t the amount of work an attorney does 
 that should determine his fees. It s the amount 
 of good he does his client." 
 
 " That depends very much on who the attor 
 ney is, Esquire. I try to charge according to 
 the work 1 do." 
 
 " An attorney will not get rich if he charges 
 on that principle." 
 
 " That will depend very much on the amount 
 of work he does." 
 
 " Do n t you do more work in defending a 
 criminal, for the paltry sum of five or ten dol 
 lars, than in collecting a thousand-dollar note for 
 which you get fifty? " 
 
 " We have a fixed price for collections, except 
 ing cases that are closely litigated; but I 
 sometimes defend a criminal for nothing. It 
 depends on my client s ability to pay. If he 
 is abundantly able to pay fees I charge him 
 the same as I would for equal labor in a 
 civil case. If he is very poor I charge him 
 nothing." 
 
Odds and Ends. 277 
 
 "Don t you charge a man more when you 
 gain a case than when you lose it? " 
 
 " No, sir. I do the best I can for my client, 
 and my services are worth as much when I fail 
 as when I succeed. If a man has a bad case he 
 should not hold his attorney responsible for his 
 failure. If he has a good case, his attorney 
 should not charge an exorbitant fee simply 
 because he succeeds where failure would be the 
 result of carelessness or neglect." 
 
 " You have an odd way of charging fees, Mr. 
 Ainsworth." 
 
 " It s an honest way, Esquire." 
 
 " Perhaps it is; but it don t seem to me that 
 it would work well in all cases/ 
 
 "I find that it works well for me. I don t 
 dictate to my fellow members of the Bar." 
 
 "But you never get a big fee under your 
 rule." 
 
 " I get what my services are worth. I have 
 no right to ask more." 
 
 " Well ; we are getting off the subject. What 
 are your terms of payment for Harry Jones 
 interest?" 
 
 " One thousand dollars down, and three thou- 
 
2 78 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 sand in either annual or biennial payments, with 
 ten per cent, interest, payable annually." 
 
 " You may draw up the papers, making the 
 payments biennial." 
 
 "All right. I will make out the papers 
 to-morrow." 
 
 "You must come up to Mrs. Love s every 
 evening, Eobbie. I want to teach you to keep 
 books, write letters, and make yourself generally 
 useful, so that you can go to Nova Scotia next 
 year." 
 
 " I 11 come to Mrs. Love s, Miss Jones; but I 
 can t go to Nova Scotia." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Mr. Lee won t let me. I m bound, you 
 know." 
 
 "Yes; you re bound to go, Eobbie. Mr. 
 Wells has made the arrangement with Mr. Lee, 
 and you are to go to him next winter." 
 
 " Oh, I m so glad. I want to go so much. I 
 know this is some of your work, and I can t 
 repay you for your kindness." 
 
 " Yes you can, Eobbie." 
 
Odds and Ends. 279 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " By trying very hard to learn." 
 
 " I can learn without trying very hard, now. 
 I feel like a new boy, already. It will be so nice 
 to be free again." 
 
 " Mr. Wells is very kind, Robbie; and if you 
 please him, he will do all in his power to make 
 you happy." 
 
 " If I can be useful I shall be very happy, 
 Miss Jones." 
 
 " You have much to learn before you can be 
 useful to Mr. Wells, Robbie. He wants you to 
 keep books and attend to his correspondence. 
 You must learn to write a good hand, use good 
 language, and punctuate correctly." 
 
 " I 11 do it, Miss Jones. I 11 study every 
 evening, and you shall see how fast I will learn." 
 
 The glad light in the bound boy s eyes was 
 Bessie s reward. What were Robbie s thoughts? 
 " I 11 buy a stone for mother s grave." 
 
 " Here is some good news, Bessie. Mr. Ains- 
 worth has compromised with Deacon Wells, and 
 I m to have fcur thousand dollars." 
 
280 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 " Your good fortune comes all at once, Harry. 
 James Wells wants you in his law office." 
 
 " What can I do in a law office, Bessie? " 
 
 " Copy papers, and read law, I suppose. 
 James says you will be useful, and I imagine 
 he knows. He wants some one to take charge 
 of his office while he is in Washington." 
 
 " To sit in a chair and tell his clients that he 
 is in Congress. He can put a card on his office 
 door that will do as well." 
 
 " He says you will make a good office lawyer, 
 by a little application. He has a fine library 
 which will be at your service, and when he 
 returns your knowledge will be of great value to 
 him." 
 
 " And if, in the meantime, a client should pro 
 pound a question, what could I do?" 
 
 " Look wise and tell him you don t know." 
 
 " So I could ; and lie would believe me, unhes 
 itatingly." 
 
 "James wants you, Harry, and I hope you 
 will conclude to go. Twill be so pleasant for 
 me to have you in Elton this winter." 
 
 " It is you he wants, Bessie. I cannot con 
 sent to go where I can be only a burden." 
 
Odds and Ends. 281 
 
 " You will not be a burden. If he did not 
 need you lie would not ask you to go into his 
 office." 
 
 "He is good and noble, Bessie, and he wants 
 me there simply to make it pleasant for you; 
 not for any service that I can render." 
 
 " I 11 admit that he is good and noble, Harry ; 
 and he is also frank and truthful. He is above 
 duplicity, even for a good purpose. If he 
 wanted you to go solely on my account, he 
 would freely tell you so. Wait until you talk 
 with him before you decline his offer. He has 
 made it wholly independent of me, and I firmly 
 believe that you will both be benefited by your 
 labor in his office." 
 
 " All right, sister. I 11 accept his offer, and I 
 hope you will be equally discreet." 
 
 " I have already accepted him, Harry. He is 
 a true man, and I do not fear to place my happi 
 ness in his keeping." 
 
 " I shall be very proud of my brother-in-law." 
 
 " And I shall be very proud of my husband. 
 A year has made a great change in our lives, 
 Harry. A year ago we were struggling to keep 
 the wolf from our door. Now we have enough 
 
282 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 to support us, and bright prospects for a happy 
 future. Surely, God has been very good to us, 
 and I feel like consecrating my life to His 
 service." 
 
 " You have been faithful from your childhood 
 up, dear sister, and you are receiving your 
 reward. 
 
 " I have done so little good in the world, 
 Harry." 
 
 " You have spent your life in doing good. I 
 tremble when I think of what I would be with 
 out you. In our dark days your faith and gentle 
 teaching saved me. Even now I should be lost 
 in doubt but for your guidance." 
 
 " You cannot doubt that God is good." 
 " I do not doubt that He is good to you and to 
 me, Bessie, but there are so many deserving ones 
 that He forgets." 
 
 " He does not forget them, Harry." 
 " He permits them to suffer so much." 
 " It is for some wise purpose. Everything in 
 nature testifies to His goodness. This we cannot 
 doubt. While there is much that we cannot 
 comprehend, we can understand His love and 
 His mercy; His munificence and His care." 
 
Odds and Ends. 283 
 
 " I know it, Bessie. When you are near me I 
 never doubt; but when you are absent, God 
 seems a great way off." 
 
 " That is because you do not try to get near 
 Him, Harry." 
 
 "I will try to live nearer to Him in the future, 
 sister." 
 
 " You will find that He is very near you, when 
 you earnestly invoke His presence." 
 
 "You must go with me to Washington, 
 mother. I shall be very lonely without you, 
 and it will do you good to see a little of the 
 world." 
 
 " Don t urge me to go, James." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " I should feel sadly out of place. I want to 
 stay here and take care of the house." 
 
 "I shall shut the house up, mother." 
 
 " What will you do with your horses and 
 cow?" 
 
 " Board them out." 
 
 "Then there s the cat and the birds. You 
 
284 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 have quite a family, James, and yon had better 
 let me stay and take care of them." 
 
 " They shall be provided for, mother. I can t 
 get along without you. If you are not happy 
 there you can return and open the house; but 
 you need a change. You look weary, and I 
 know you will be benefited by a visit to 
 Washington." 
 
 " I cannot enjoy Washington society, James. 
 I prefer this quiet life." 
 
 " There are real folks in Washington, mother. 
 You need not mingle with the gay and thought 
 less. Society is much as it is in other cities. 
 We have the good and the bad; the real and 
 the seeming. You can choose your associates." 
 
 " The fact that I am a divorced wife is an ever 
 present sorrow, my dear boy. I do not want any 
 associates. I do not want to mingle with the 
 
 O 
 
 world. I feel the disgrace, and cannot forget it." 
 "You are not disgraced. You are honored 
 
 and loved by all who know you, mother." 
 
 " I am honored and loved by a dutiful son; 
 
 and I know I am selfish in my sorrow. You 
 
 have done so much to make me happy, James, 
 
Odds and Ends. 285 
 
 that 1 sometimes feel guilty because I cannot 
 fully enjoy all that your kind care and thought 
 ful attention provide; but the old, tired feeling 
 comes unbidden, and I cannot shake it off. 
 Leave me here, and let me rest until you 
 return." 
 
 "!No, mother; you must go with me. There 
 is a place in the great world for you. Your 
 work is not done." 
 
 It is seldom that a strong man s will is suc 
 cessfully opposed by woman. Patience "Wells 
 went to Washington. James secured rooms in 
 a private boarding house, with a pleasant family, 
 introduced his mother to a few of his tried 
 friends, took her through the public buildings, 
 accompanied her to church, and spent all his 
 leisure hours in her cosy sitting room. He was 
 chairman of an important committee, and was 
 emphatically a "working member," yet he 
 devoted much time to his mother, and did 
 everything in his power to make her visit to 
 the Capital City profitable and pleasant. She 
 was a good conversationist, and her society was 
 sought by a circle of admiring friends. While 
 she was comparatively ignorant of the ways of 
 
286 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 the world, her rare good sense and ready tact 
 enabled her to avoid mistakes. She was active 
 in public and private charities, active in the 
 church, and foremost in all good works. 
 James was liberal, and she was his almoner. 
 He managed to bring her in contact with 
 those whom he knew would be congenial, 
 
 o 
 
 hoping by that means to cause her to forget 
 the past and live only in the present. His 
 father s name was never mentioned, and he 
 imagined that the wounds were healing. He 
 did not dream that his mother was making a 
 great sacrifice to please him. 
 
 " My letter was from Bessie, James." 
 
 " I supposed so, mother. The superscription 
 had a familiar look." 
 
 " She says Eobbie Bently is getting along 
 finely with his studies. He is already proficient 
 in book-keeping, and she sent a specimen of his 
 penmanship that is very creditable." 
 
 " I am glad he is making rapid progress. It 
 is no more than I expected. Bessie is very 
 anxious for his success, and she will strive to 
 qualify him for his work." 
 
 " Bessie is a dear, good girl, James." 
 
Odds and Ends. 287 
 
 " We agree on that point, mother. I heartily 
 indorse your sentiments, and shall vote in the 
 affirmative." 
 
 " Come, my boy; you are not in the House." 
 
 " I am not in the street, mother." 
 
 " You might as well be in the street, for I 
 can t make you talk seriously about Bessie 
 Jones." 
 
 " That s because I do n t feel i serious when I 
 think of her." 
 
 " It is time for you to think seriously of mar 
 rying her, my son." 
 
 " I in ready, mother. The ceremony may be 
 performed whenever it suits you and Bessie." 
 
 " I am not to be consulted in the matter/ 
 
 "Then you don t believe in match-making? " 
 
 " No, I do not. Two can wind yarn success 
 fully, but when the third party interferes the 
 skein is tangled, and a lifetime will prove too 
 short to unravel it. I Ve seen too many un 
 happy marriages grow out of a mother s inter 
 ference." 
 
 "But you would not have me marry without 
 your consent, mother?" 
 
 " Your wish shall be my law, James. Chil- 
 
288 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 dren should judge for themselves in a matter so 
 important." 
 
 "Yet it is better to have the consent of 
 parents?" 
 
 "Yes. If parents and children act wisely; 
 but it is often the case that children yield blind 
 ly to the wishes of parents, and find, too late, 
 that they have committed a fatal error. Mar 
 riage without love is a crime, and the penalty is 
 more than death. A great many unfortunate 
 marriages result from the unwise dictation of 
 parents." 
 
 " That is true, mother, and I have taken the 
 precaution to first arrange matters and then ask 
 your consent." 
 
 " You have acted wisely, my son. When are 
 you to be married?" 
 
 " I shall let you and Bessie determine that 
 matter." 
 
 " Let Bessie fix the time, James. She is the 
 party most deeply interested." 
 
 "Am not I as deeply interested, mother? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Why not?" 
 
 " Simply because you are a man. A woman 
 
Odds and Ends. 289 
 
 resigns everything to the keeping of her hus 
 band when she marries. A man does not so 
 completely give himself up to his wife. He has 
 a world outside of his home; but home is all the 
 world to the wife." 
 
 " I can t see it in that light, mother." 
 " I see it from a woman s standpoint, James." 
 u It shall not be so in my case, mother. My 
 home shall be as much my world as Bessie s." 
 " You will be very happy together. She is a 
 true woman, and I m glad you have chosen her. 
 You are worthy of all the love she can bestow." 
 " With your blessing our home shall be bright 
 and happy, dear mother." 
 
 " God will bless your home, my boy." 
 " I could not ask His blessing if yours were 
 withheld, mother." 
 
 " It is His province to bless you; mine to live 
 in a borrowed light." 
 
 "Good morning, Mrs. Wells. I m on my 
 way to Mrs. Gregg s, and I have called for you 
 to go with me. We want the assistance of all 
 
 the philanthropic women in the city." 
 19 
 
290 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 "I am not a philanthropist, Mrs. Derby; but 
 you can tell me the object of your meeting." 
 
 " We want to establish a home for friendless 
 women." 
 
 " Is there not an institution of that kind 
 already established?" 
 
 "Yes; but it is n t well managed. There are 
 but few T inmates, and no effort is made to in 
 crease the number. The city is full of fallen 
 women, and we propose to go among them, con 
 vince them that we are really interested in their 
 welfare, and save as many as possible." 
 
 "Would it not be better to co-operate with 
 the managers of the present institution than to 
 establish another?" 
 
 " We will talk that over at Mrs. Gregg s. 
 The impression prevails that there is too much 
 silk and satin about the present institution. It 
 is managed by fashionable women, whose hearts 
 are not in the work. They Hatter the men who 
 are responsible for the fall of some of the in 
 mates, and draw their costly robes about them 
 when they meet a fallen sister, as though the 
 touch would contaminate them. We want earn 
 est workers, Mrs. Wells. We want women." 
 
Odds and Ends. 291 
 
 " T is my conviction that the way to work 
 effectually is to reform the men; but I will go 
 with you/ 
 
 "We can t reform the men without the co 
 operation of fashionable women. They do not 
 hold a man responsible for his sins. Even 
 mothers fail to reprove their sons. So long as 
 this state of affairs exists, we can t reform the 
 men," 
 
 "And so long as men are base, we can t 
 reform the women, Mrs. Derby." 
 
 " I know it is a hard task, especially in this 
 city ; but we can do some good. I do n t believe 
 in folding our hands and doing nothing, because 
 we can t do it all, Mrs. "Wells." 
 
 4 - Xeither do I. We will go to work and do 
 what we can. Even if one be reclaimed, we 
 shall be compensated." 
 
 Patience Wells worked with a will in the new 
 field that had been opened to her. She was sin 
 gularly successful in winning the erring ones, 
 and for the first time in many years she forgot 
 the past and lived for others. She found many 
 who gladly left the haunts of vice and entered 
 upon a new life with a determination to reform. 
 
292 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 Most ot these were reclaimed, and have outlived 
 their sin. A small number too weak to resist 
 temptation went back to the old life, and are 
 suffering the penalty of their transgression. 
 Patience was untiring in her efforts to save 
 them, and often induced them to enter the 
 "home" a second time. In all cases where 
 the sin was not inherent she worked hope 
 fully, determined to do her whole duty and 
 leave the result with Him who notes the fall 
 ing of a sparrow. She was not surprised to find, 
 among the erring, many discarded wives who 
 had " married for a home." To these her heart 
 went out in sympathy, for she knew how sorely 
 they were tempted. She knew that the libertine 
 instinctively sought an unloved wife. When 
 will the mothers in our land learn to give their 
 daughters a practical education, and place them 
 beyond the necessity of marrying for a home? 
 Until this lesson is learned there will be no lack 
 of inmates in the homes for friendless women. 
 
 " Good mornin , sir. Your name s George 
 Wells, I b leve?" 
 
Odds and Ends. 293 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " "Well, my name s Jack Blunt. You used to 
 know me when I s a little boy. I ve been a 
 purty hard ticket for a good many years, but if 
 you 11 give me somethin to do I 11 reform and 
 be a man agin." 
 
 "What can you do, Jack?" 
 
 " I in willin to turn my hand to anything, 
 sir. I can load plaster, if you ve nothiii else 
 for me to do." 
 
 " I have a dozen idle men under pay now, 
 Jack." 
 
 "You don t pay em when they don t work, 
 do you?" 
 
 " Yes, sir. They are willing to work, and I 
 can t let them starve." 
 
 " You re the kind of a boss for me. I 11 
 take a wheelbarrer at a shillin a day, ruther 
 than miss." 
 
 " I do n t want you to work for a shilling a day. 
 I don t need you at any price, Jack; but if you 
 really desire to reform I 11 give you work." 
 
 " That s what s the matter of me. I m goin 
 to reform. Nelly, that s my darter, is gittin 
 well, and I m goin to git a little home for her 
 
294 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 and be a man agin, if you and God will let 
 me." 
 
 " That is an irreverent speech, Jack." 
 
 "What kind of a speech, Mr. Wells?" 
 
 " Irreverent ; disrespectful. You should not 
 speak of God in that manner. He will let you 
 reform and will help you if you will ask Him." 
 
 "You must excuse me, Mr. Wells. I hain t 
 got no religion and I m sorry for it. I wan t 
 raised that way; but I ll try to be better if 
 you 11 give me a fair chance." 
 
 " I 11 give you work, Jack, and you must ask 
 God to make you better." 
 
 " Won t He say < It s nobody but Jack Blunt, 
 if I ask Him?" 
 
 " No. Jack Blunt is as dear to Him as any 
 of His creatures." 
 
 " But He knows I used to smuggle rum." 
 
 " He is merciful and will forgive you if you 
 ask Him in the right spirit." 
 
 "And w T ill He forgive me for apprisin the 
 Jones place too low?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "And cheatin at ten cent ante?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
Odds and Ends. 295 
 
 "And swindlin 1 Uncle Henry out o these 
 boots?" 
 
 " No, sir. You can pay for the boots. You 
 must not ask God to forgive you for a wrong 
 that you can right." 
 
 "All right. I ll pay for these boots out o 
 the fust money I git." 
 
 " I 11 advance you the money to pay for them 
 if you wish it." 
 
 " No, sir. Let him wait till I earn it. He 
 told me when I got em that I d never pay for 
 em, and I b leved him. He 11 be pleasantly 
 disappinted when he gits a letter from Jack 
 Blunt inclosin five dollars for these boots." 
 
 " Do you owe any other little bills, Jack?" 
 
 " No, sir. No thin but some away back, and 
 I guess God 11 have no trouble forgittin them, 
 cause I ve almost forgot em myself." 
 
 " You must pay them up and commence 
 right." 
 
 "Jest as you say, Mr. Wells." 
 
 "You will feel better if you begin right, 
 Jack. Honesty pays large dividends." 
 
 " Then I want to git into it. Do you think 
 God 11 forgive me for swearin like a pirate? " 
 
296 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 " Yes. He will forgive you if you ask him in 
 the right spirit, and resolve to swear no more." 
 
 " He s got a big contract, Mr. Wells; but I 11 
 take your word for it and stop swearin ." 
 
 " You must take His word, Jack. Have you 
 a Bible?" 
 
 "No, sir. Kelly had one, but I found a fam- 
 ly in Elton that had n t got none, and I thought 
 it was my duty to give it to em. I hain t had 
 none sense; but I 11 git one as soon as I pay for 
 these boots." 
 
 " Here s one that you may have, Jack." 
 
 " Do you give away Bibles?" 
 
 "Sometimes." 
 
 " I guess the plaster bizness must be good if 
 you can ford to pay men for doin nothin and 
 give away Bibles to boot." 
 
 "I don t usually pay men for doing nothing. 
 These are dull times, Jack, and I have no work 
 for some of my men. They must live, you 
 know." 
 
 " Do you take it out o their wages when they 
 go to work agin?" 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 "Well, you air an odd chicken. I ve lieered 
 
Odds and Ends. 297 
 
 Parson Green talk about practising Christians, 
 but you re the fust one I ever met, onless it 
 were the Parson his self." 
 
 " Then you ve heard Parson Green preach?" 
 
 " Yes, sir. I used to go to please Nelly, afore 
 she went crazy. I hain t went to no good places 
 sense Nelly went crazy. Somehow I hain t had 
 no appertite for good things. I guess the devil s 
 been foolin round me/" 
 
 " You say Nellie is getting better? " 
 
 Yes, sir. Here s the letter that says she s 
 almost well, and twill make a man of Jack 
 Blunt yit, if he is a poor coot." 
 
 " I hope so." 
 
 "And you shan t be disappinted, Mr. ~\V r ells. 
 I ve got somethin to live for now. I got sort o 
 feckless after Nelly was took away, and I wan t 
 an angel afore; but you ll find me here every 
 time from this on, and if ever I swear or tell 
 a lie, may the good Lord forgit it alongst the 
 balance of em." 
 
 " I am glad that you are going to try to 
 reform, Jack/ 
 
 "Try? I m goin to make it. You re the 
 fust Christian, exceptin 1 Parson Green, that ever 
 
298 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 tried to make me better. Christians is alters so 
 fur off that we poor devils can t git to ern. I 
 did n t mind the Parson cause I thought twas 
 his reg lar bizness, but jour bizness is shippin 
 land plaster and I know you re in dead earnest 
 when you ketch a feller by the nap o the neck 
 and try to pull him into Heaven." 
 
 " That s a queer way to get a man to Heaven, 
 Jack. You must remember that God, alone, 
 can open the door to His kingdom." 
 
 " He might open the door till the cows come 
 home and we poor devils would never find it 
 without some good, geniwine Christian to show 
 us the way; and I m much obliged to you for 
 showin me the way, Mr. Wells." 
 
 " I have not shown you the way, Jack. Eead 
 that book carefully, ask God to give you light, 
 and you will find the way." 
 
 "Shall I come to you when I git stuck? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 "Where shall I go?" 
 
 " Go to God." 
 
 "All right, Mr. Wells ^I ll go, but I don t 
 b leve He s knowd me sense I wore trowsers." 
 
 " Seek Him in a proper spirit, Jack, and you 
 
Odds and Ends. 299 
 
 will find Him. Go to Him to-night, and corne 
 to work in the morning." 
 
 < ; Thank you, sir. I 11 go, and come." 
 Jack Blunt was sincere in his desire to go to 
 God. The kindness of Mr. Wells warmed his 
 heart and brought forth the little good that was 
 in it. There are many Jack Blunts in the world, 
 but they do not find a George Wells to pull them 
 through when they " get stuck " in the slough 
 of doubt. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 HEELING AND TOEING. 
 
 /I i AN you tap em right on the spot, Uncle 
 \[j Henry?" 
 
 "No, Bob; you ll have to take them 
 off your feet." 
 
 "I mean, can you tap them now?" 
 
 " Why did n t you say so? " 
 
 "Well, most anybody but you would under 
 stood me." 
 
 " What s your great hurry, Bob?" 
 
 " I m goin to Spring River lake after trout in 
 the mornin , and I want to wear em." 
 
 "The trout?" 
 
 " No; the boots. Me and Sam White is goin 
 to take a cold bite and then start afore break 
 fast." 
 
 " You 11 get a < cold bite before you get back, 
 if this weather holds." 
 
 "So he will, Uncle Henry. He ll find that 
 
 (300) 
 
Heeling and Toeing. 301 
 
 the wind and frost and everything but the trout 
 
 will bite." 
 
 " Steve Garret ketched a nine pound trout out 
 o there last week, and I m as good a fisherman 
 as he is." 
 
 " Did you see that trout? " 
 "No; but I heered about it." 
 " That s the trouble. You are always hearing 
 about big trout, but no one sees them. I ve 
 been here sixty years, and have fished in all the 
 lakes between the Periobscot and St. Croix, but 
 I never saw one of the regular brook trout spe 
 cies that measured over twenty-three inches, or 
 weighed over five pounds. I don t believe 
 there s a nine pound speckled trout in the State 
 of Maine. 1 
 
 " There s the difference twixt us. I believe 
 Washington county is full of em." 
 
 " The oldest inhabitant never saw them, and 
 the latest arrival won t live long enough to put 
 his two eyes on them." 
 
 <k Wait till I git back, Uncle Henry. I 11 
 show you a golly -bus ter,." 
 
 "The ice is two feet thick, Bob, and you ll 
 freeze before you can cut a hole through it." 
 
302 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 "Don t fret about my freezin . I ain t so 
 dredful tender." 
 
 " If he can only protect his head he 11 get 
 through all right, Uncle Henry." 
 
 "But there s the rub, Charles." 
 
 " And it 11 keep him rubbin all the time to 
 save them ears o his." 
 
 " Give us a rest, Mountain Jack. You ain t 
 runnin this show." 
 
 " If I was I d put the long eared critters on 
 the other side of the stove, and give the *visiters 
 a chance to warm." 
 
 "What are you going to bait with, Bob?" 
 
 " Clams." 
 
 "Shelled?" 
 
 " Of course. Who ever heered of a trout bit- 
 in a clam that wasn t shelled?" 
 
 " Who ever heard of a trout biting a shelled 
 clam?" 
 
 " I have. Steve Garret ketched his big trout 
 with a shelled clam, and I m goin to git one 
 jest like it for the mistress. She ain t very 
 well, and she s mazin fond of em." 
 
 "Of clams?" 
 
 " No, trout." 
 
Heeling and Toeing. 303 
 
 " Why did n t you say so? " 
 
 " I did, but you could n t understand. Seems 
 to me you re all dredful dull this evenin ." 
 
 "We re too sharp to believe your big trout 
 story." 
 
 " Seein s believin , and I 11 show you when I 
 git back." 
 
 " I hope you 11 get a trout for the teacher, 
 Bob; but I 11 make you a pair of boots for every 
 pound he weighs over five." 
 
 " Then you need n t be so dredful pertickeler 
 about mendin them old ones. I 11 have two or 
 three new pair comin when I git back." 
 
 " I guess I 11 peg these soles on pretty stout. 
 You 11 have to wear them awhile." 
 
 "Did you say Miss Jones isn t very well, 
 Bob?" 
 
 " That s jest what I said. You seem to under 
 stand that well enough; but you needn t worry 
 about her. Jim Wells will take her in tow 
 when he gits back from Congress." 
 
 " What s the matter with her? " 
 
 u She s been working nights to git Ragged 
 Bob ready to go to Novy Skoshy." 
 
 " How is he getting along? " 
 
34 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 " Fust rate. lie can pass any sentence in the 
 book, and he writes as purty as the teacher, 
 already, and he do n t have to go til next fall." 
 
 " I m glad Robbie is going. He s a bright 
 boy and he deserves a good chance." 
 
 "They say old Wells is goin to give him a 
 big send off when he gits him there." 
 
 " I hope he will. The poor fellow has had a 
 hard time at Mr. Lee s." 
 
 "Bound boys allers has a hard time, don t 
 they, Charley? " 
 
 " Not always. Johnny Bell is happy." 
 
 " Yes, but Johnny is bound to a Christian." 
 
 " Is n t Robbie Bently bound to a Christian? " 
 
 "Well, I don t know. Mr. Lee ain t Chris 
 tian enough to hurt him any; but Mr. Noel is 
 an every day Christian. He s allers good ; 
 while Mr. Lee is good by spells. Mr. Noel is 
 one of Parson Green s Christians, and they re a 
 mighty sight better than common ones." 
 
 " Mr. Lee always conducts himself like a 
 Christian. He seems to me a very devout 
 man." 
 
 "What s devout?" 
 
 "Pious." 
 
Heeling and Toeing. 305 
 
 " That s because yon do n t know him. He s 
 like lots of other Christians; all right til yon 
 git clost to him. There s a devil in him big- 
 ger n a hedge-hog. He d do anything for 
 money, and them kind o Christians won t do 
 to make fast to; they pull out too easy." 
 
 " I know he is prudent, but I do n t believe 
 he d do anything wrong to get money." 
 
 " You do n t, hey ? Look at that hoss he sold 
 Elder Steele. He ain t wuth fifty dollars, and 
 he sold him for a hundred and seventy-five." 
 
 " But he gave fifty dollars of the amount for 
 preaching." 
 
 "That was done jest to sell the hoss. He 
 never give more n five dollars a year, afore. 
 That s one of Lee s Yankee tricks." 
 
 "Wasn t the Elder satisfied with his bar 
 gain?" 
 
 "Satisfied! He tried to sell him back the 
 next week for seventy-five dollars, and Lee told 
 him he had all the bosses he could winter. 
 He s a reg lar plug, and ain t wuth nothin to 
 pull." 
 
 "Why didn t he bring the matter before the 
 
 church?" 
 
 20 
 
306 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 " A hoss trade s a boss trade, in this country, 
 and the church could n t make nothin out of it." 
 
 " But swindling is swindling, in this country, 
 and the church could make something out of 
 that." 
 
 "Lee didn t warrant the hoss to pull. lie 
 jest told the Elder he had a gentle hoss and he 
 asked a hundred and seventy-live dollars for him, 
 but seein twas him he d let him go for a hun 
 dred and twenty-five cash, and give fifty for 
 preachin . That s the way they fixed it." 
 
 " Is the horse gentle? " 
 
 " He s so gentle he won t start if you build a 
 fire under him." 
 
 "But he can t compel the Elder to keep him." 
 
 "No. The Elder can trade him off to some 
 body else, if he wants to, but he can t git him 
 back on Lee. A hoss trade between two Chris 
 tians ain t allers a Christian hoss trade." 
 
 " I 11 bait a nine-pence that Lee couldn t git 
 to windward of Parson Green in a hoss trade." 
 
 " No; cause he s a good judge of a hoss." 
 
 "Yes; and he s a good judge of men, too." 
 
 " He s a reg lar brick." 
 
 " He s a genuine Christian." 
 
Heeling and Toeing. 307 
 
 "So he is, Uncle Henry; but he knows some- 
 thin besides what s in the Bible/ 
 
 " Yes; he knows all about the Bible, and some 
 things outside of it. He knows enough about 
 the world to make Jiim a useful preacher." 
 
 " Dad says he s a better lawyer than Squire 
 Gray." 
 
 " Squire Gray ain t a lawyer any more. Mr. 
 Ains worth had him turned out." 
 
 " I Ve heered of a church that was so bad that 
 they could n t turn a man out cause there was 
 no place to turn him to, but I d like to know 
 where they d turn a lawyer." 
 
 " He has been disbarred, Sam." 
 
 "What s that?" 
 
 " Barred out." 
 
 " He cannot practice before the courts. He 
 was charged with unprofessional conduct, and 
 the charge was sustained." 
 
 "What did he do?" 
 
 " He tried to swindle Deacon Wells out of a 
 thousand dollars." 
 
 " It do n t seem to me there was anything un- 
 profeshunal about that." 
 
A Century of Gossip. 
 
 " The members of the Bar looked at it in a diff 
 erent light, Sam." 
 
 " Is lawyers gittin onest?" 
 
 "Were they not always honest? " 
 
 " Dad says not. When mam told him I d 
 make a fust rate lawyer, he said I was too onest 
 for a lawyer and would do better sawin wood." 
 
 " That ain t what you s born for, Sam." 
 
 "What was I born for, Jack?" 
 
 "Settin for picters in a country where they 
 raise corn." 
 
 " You re too cute to live in Maine, Mountain 
 Jack. You orter go to Novy Skoshy alongst 
 Jack Blunt." 
 
 ^"The mistress got a letter from Jim Wells 
 uncle, to-day, and he says Jack Blunt has 
 reformed and is a good Christian." 
 
 "Well, I declare! That s mazin surprising 
 as Aunty Marsh says." 
 
 "Not very surprising, Uncle Henry. Jack 
 is a kind hearted man, and there s always a 
 chance for such a man to repent." 
 
 "Yes; he has some good streaks, but they are 
 like streaks of fat in a potato-fed pig rather 
 seldom." 
 
Heeling and Toeing. 39 
 
 " If he will serve tlie Lord as well as he has 
 served the devil, he wiU make a very good 
 Christian." 
 
 " He can t do that." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " He is fifty years old, and his working days 
 are over." 
 
 " Can t the Lord renew his strength? " 
 
 " The Lord does n t work that way, Charley. 
 If a man spends his best days in working for 
 the devil, he can t ask the Lord to give him a 
 new lease of life, even to devote to His service." 
 
 " Do you s pose Jack Blunt will stick? " 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Oh, he s a rattler, and them church meetin s 
 will be too dull for him." 
 
 "Parson Green s church meetings are not 
 dull." 
 
 " But there ain t many Parson Greens. Xovy 
 Skoshy ain t settled with em." 
 
 "There ain t enough Parson Greens in the 
 world, I ll admit, Sam; but maybe Jack will 
 run afoul of one down there." 
 
 "I hope he will, for I d like to see Jack 
 stick." 
 
3io A Century of Gossip. 
 
 " Then why do n t you follow his example, 
 Sam?" 
 
 " There s lots of time. I m only eighteen." 
 
 "That s the devil s argument. God says: 
 They that seek me early shall find me. 
 There s danger in delay." 
 
 "But I want to have a good time, Uncle 
 Henry, and I can t do it if I jine church." 
 
 " That s another one of the devil s arguments. 
 You can enjoy yourself in serving the Lord. It 
 is the only real pleasure I ever had in this world, 
 and the only joy that I hope for in the next." 
 
 " I want to take most of mine in the next." 
 
 "You can t spend your days in sinning and 
 fully enjoy the next, even if you do repent at the 
 eleventh hour." 
 
 k What do you know about religion, 
 Charley?" 
 
 "Not much, I ll admit; but it don t look 
 reasonable that Jack Blunt should enjoy so 
 much of Heaven as Parson Green " 
 
 " Heaven is Heaven, Charley, and if a man is 
 fortunate enough to get there he 11 enjoy it. I 
 do n t believe in these new fangled ideas about 
 progression and degrees of happiness. When a 
 
Heeling and Toeing. 3 1 1 
 
 man s happy, he s happy. That s plain enough, 
 is n t it?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Well, when a man s cup of happiness is full, 
 what s the use of running it over? Heaven will 
 fill everybody s cup, and the fool will be as 
 happy as the wise man there. There s nothing 
 in the Bible about one man enjoying more than 
 another in Heaven." 
 
 " This is God s earth, Uncle Henry, and why 
 should one man enjoy more than another here? " 
 
 " There is no comparison between earth and 
 Heaven, Charley. The fool enjoys more than 
 the wise man, here. If his enjoyment depended 
 on his knowledge, this would not be. Circum 
 stances make us happy or unhappy here. It 
 will not be so in Heaven." 
 
 " I m not willing to admit that the fool enjoys 
 more than the wise man here." 
 
 "Observation will teach you that, Charley." 
 
 " My observation has not taught me that the 
 ignorant are happier than the wise." 
 
 " Then you are not a careful observer. Show 
 me a happier man than Enoch West, and he 
 
312 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 don t know enough to warm his feet when 
 the} 7 re cold." 
 
 "Jim Wells is as happy as he." 
 
 " Jim Wells is an exception among wise men, 
 and still I don t believe he s as happy as 
 Enoch." 
 
 " He is always cheerful." 
 
 " You do n t see him always, Charley. Per 
 haps he keeps his skeleton in the closet. 
 There s many a sad heart veiled by a cheerful 
 face." 
 
CHAPTEE XIY. 
 
 AT HOME. 
 
 AY four weeks, Bessie. Two months seems 
 a long time to wait." 
 
 " I can t get ready in four weeks, 
 James." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " There are so many little things to do." 
 
 " Leave them undone until after our marriage, 
 Bessie." 
 
 "There are some things that must be done 
 before. I can t possibly get ready in four 
 weeks, but will compromise with you and say 
 six weeks from to-day." 
 
 " All right. As we may have to compromise 
 our differences after marriage, perhaps it will be 
 well to commence before." 
 
 " We will have no differences after marriage, 
 James." 
 
 " I hope not; but we are human." 
 (313 
 
314 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 "Aye; and we realize it. That will prevent 
 discord. I think our married life will be singu 
 larly happy. We, know each other so well." 
 
 "Yes, Bessie; you know all my weak points, 
 and will take the step with your eyes open." 
 
 " I do not hesitate to risk my happiness in 
 your hands. I have not discovered the weak 
 points you speak of." 
 
 " Love is blind, you know." 
 
 " My love is not blind, James. If there were 
 weak points in your character I could see them." 
 
 " I am painfully conscious of their existence, 
 Bessie." 
 
 " As I have looked for them in vain, I will 
 take your word and look no further. I shall 
 never discover them." 
 
 " You cannot fail to see, and I hope you will 
 correct them." 
 
 " I laid aside the rod when my school closed." 
 
 "You will still be a teacher, Bessie." 
 
 " Then we will have to vary the rule. I shall 
 recite to my pupil." 
 
 " You must help me brush up my Greek and 
 Latin." 
 
 "I am better qualified to brush your coat." 
 
At Home. 315 
 
 " You are incorrigible." 
 
 "Then you will not attempt to correct me?" 
 " 2so. I shall turn you over to mother." 
 "You will leave me in excellent hands. I 
 
 love your mother." 
 
 " So do I. We agree on that point." 
 
 " Your mother has been very kind to me, and 
 
 I am so glad she will live with us." 
 
 " With mother, Harry, and an occasional visit 
 
 from Uncle George, we shall be very happy, 
 
 Bessie." 
 
 " God is good." 
 
 "What kind of a wedding do you want, 
 Bessie? " 
 
 t; You must consult James on that point, 
 mother." 
 
 " I like to have you call me i mother, my dear 
 child." 
 
 " I am so grateful for the privilege. My dead 
 mother comes to me in my dreams, and thus I 
 keep her image in my memory. I was so young 
 when she died that I feared I should not know 
 her in another world." 
 
A Century of Gossip. 
 
 My experience is not unlike yours, my dear 
 child. My mother died when I was three years 
 old, and in my orphanage I felt the need of her 
 protecting care. We met in dreamland, and 
 took sweet counsel together in that unreal 
 world. To me it was more than seeming. 
 Like you, I taught school several years, and 
 when my burden seemed more than I could 
 bear, her presence gave me strength and cour 
 age. There is nothing so dear to the orphan s 
 heart as the memory of mother." 
 
 : T will be so nice to have a living, breathing 
 mother; one to whom I can come for counsel 
 and advice; one whom I can touch, obey, and 
 kiss. I shall love you very much, dear mother." 
 
 " Not more than I shall love you, my child. 
 But about the wedding? I ask James, and he 
 refers me to you. I ask you, and you tell me 
 to consult James. Speak out, Bessie, and tell 
 me whether you want a public or a private 
 wedding." 
 
 " I prefer a very quiet wedding, mother." 
 
 " So does James. Now that point is settled. 
 Shall the ceremony be performed here?" 
 
 "As you like. I have no foolish scruples 
 
At Home. 3*7 
 
 about the propriety, mother; but would prefer 
 to go quietly to the parsonage and have the cer 
 emony performed in presence of a few dear 
 friends, I presume James wants Parson Green 
 to officiate?" 
 
 " Yes, dear. If he is acceptable to you." 
 
 "He is my choice, mother." 
 
 " It shall be as you suggest. James has ex 
 pressed a wish to be married at the parsonage." 
 
 " Then that question is settled." 
 
 "Yes. Shall he write to his Uncle George?" 
 
 " By all means. Our happiness would not be 
 complete without him." 
 
 " I 11 write to George myself. It may be too 
 late when James returns. He asked me to see 
 you and arrange things. His unexpected call 
 to Washington gave him no time to attend to the 
 details, but we will do very well without him." 
 
 " Yes, mother; we can make the necessary 
 arrangements in his absence." 
 
 " He 11 be here in time for the ceremony." 
 
 "If not, we can tell our friends it will be 
 postponed on account of the weather. 
 
 Wouldn t for w^ant of a bridegroom be 
 better? " 
 
A Century of Gossip. 
 
 " Won t the weather be < stormy if the bride 
 groom doesn t come at the appointed time?" 
 
 " No, dearie. The little cloud would be dis 
 sipated when he did come. There will be no 
 storms in your life, either before or after mar 
 
 riage/ 
 
 " I believe you, clear mother. I feel that my 
 married life will be all sunshine." 
 
 James returned a few hours before the time 
 appointed for the ceremony. Uncle George was 
 present, and of the small but merry party assem 
 bled at Parson Green s, none, save the bride and 
 groom, were happier than he. " What, there 
 fore, God hath joined together let not man put 
 asunder." No lingering doubt disturbed Parson 
 Green. Surely, God had joined James Wells 
 and Bessie Jones. 
 
 "And now, Bessie, I want to know how my 
 young book-keeper is getting along. Is he 
 ready to go back with me?" 
 
 " He is qualified, Uncle George, and if Mr. 
 Lee will consent you can take him with you, but 
 we do n t intend to let you go at present. You 
 are to visit Niagara and the Hudson with us." 
 
 " And spoil your wedding tour? " 
 
At Home. 319 
 
 "By no means. Your presence will add to 
 our happiness." 
 
 " I think I shall take Robbie and return. I 
 did n t make arrangements for a protracted visit. 
 If I can leave my business with Robbie I shall 
 see you next winter perhaps go to Wash 
 ington with you." 
 
 " I am not an active member of Congress, and 
 shall probably remain at home during the ses 
 sion; but it will be very pleasant for mother 
 and me to have you with us while James is 
 away. 
 
 " And 1 flatter myself that it will be pleasant 
 for James to have me visit him in Washington, 
 Mrs. Wells." 
 
 "So it will; but we are in the majority, and 
 he must yield." 
 
 "He may prove a very stubborn minority, 
 Bessie." 
 
 " Xo, Uncle; he will yield gracefully when lie 
 is voted down." 
 
 " Perhaps your mother will vote with him." 
 
 "Here she is. Ask her." 
 
 " Are you going to Washington, next winter, 
 Patience?" 
 
32O A Century of Gossip. 
 
 " That will be as James says. I should like 
 to go." 
 
 " There, Bessie. We will all go to Congress." 
 
 " Then I shall have to yield. That J s the way 
 it goes. The lords of creation have their own 
 way when they really want it." 
 
 "Yes; and poor, down-trodden women must 
 submit, be dragged out into the world, wear silk 
 dresses, and eat confectionery." 
 
 "That is not the end of their submission, 
 Uncle George." 
 
 ".N"o. They must entertain the men of state, 
 and captivate sages and philosophers by their 
 bewitching airs and bright glances." 
 
 "That is sarcasm, Uncle George, and it needs 
 no label." 
 
 " It will be true in your case, Bessie." 
 
 " If I can hold captive one of the wise men 
 of the nation, and retain his uncle s esteem, my 
 ambition will be fully satisfied." 
 
 " That is already assured ; and now, like a ver 
 itable queen, you must increase the number of 
 your subjects." 
 
 " I prefer a small kingdom and loyal subjects. 
 My heart is too small to divide into parcels." 
 
At Home. 321 
 
 "The human heart is an enigma, Bessie. It 
 is increased by division." 
 
 " You may be right, but I have no desire to 
 try the experiment." 
 
 " It is not an experiment. It is an established 
 fact." 
 
 " I shall not divide mine in Washington, 
 Uncle George." 
 
 "But I shall take a little piece of it to Nova 
 Scotia, my dear niece." 
 
 " I hope you will take more than a < little piece 
 of it, dear Uncle; but you must bring it back 
 to Maine in the early autumn." 
 
 "So I will, if my life be spared." 
 
 " Good morning, Mr. Lee. I ve come to see 
 if you 11 let Kobbie go home with me." 
 
 " I can t let him go til next winter." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Because that is the contract, and I want him 
 to get my winter s wood." 
 
 "What will it cost to cut your wood?" 
 
 "About thirty dollars." 
 
 " Here are your thirty dollars. Tell Eobbie 
 21 
 
 - 
 
322 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 to pack his trunk. I shall start next Monday 
 morning." 
 
 " He hasn t any trunk." 
 
 " How will he take his clothes? " 
 
 " On his back, all but an extra shirt and pair 
 of socks." 
 
 " You will please give him this note, and tell 
 him to buy a traveling bag." 
 
 " I ve got an old one that I can sell him cheap. 
 I 11 hunt it up." 
 
 " All right. I 11 get him some clothes at St. 
 John." 
 
 u I d have got them, Mr. Wells, but this is a 
 very poor place to buy clothes." 
 
 " It seems so." 
 
 Early on Monday morning Robbie called to 
 say good bye to Bessie Wells. 
 
 "Be a good boy, Robbie; attend faithfully to 
 your business, and, above all things, be particular 
 in choosing your associates." 
 
 " I will try to do as you wish, Mrs. Wells. I 
 owe you so much. You have been very kind to 
 me, and, excepting Mr. Wells, you are my only 
 friend." 
 
 " You forget your best friend, Robbie." 
 
At Home. 323 
 
 " I should not have known Him if yon had not 
 taught me." 
 
 When you are tired and homesick, Robbie, 
 you must go to Him for comfort." 
 
 " I shall not be homesick if you will write to 
 me. I have no one else in Elton to care for." 
 
 " I will write to you often. Good bye." 
 
 " Good bye, Mrs. Wells. God will bless you 
 for your kindness to me." 
 
 " Remember, always, Robbie, that God is 
 good." 
 
 " I will remember." 
 
 Robbie Bently kept his word. He was ever 
 mindful of his employer s interest, and very soon 
 learned the routine of business. He knew that 
 Mr. Wells would spend the winter with his 
 nephew, and he resolved to render a good 
 account of his stewardship when his employer 
 returned. 
 
 " I shall be gone four months, Robbie. Your 
 position is a responsible one, and you will have 
 no friend to advise you. Do the best you can, 
 and remember, always, to do right, regardless of 
 consequences." 
 
 " I will try to do as you wish, Mr. Wells." 
 
324 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 " All right, my boy. I think you \vill have 
 no trouble in mana^in^ the business." 
 
 O O 
 
 Mr. Wells called his employes together, told 
 them Robbie was authorized to transact his 
 business during his absence, and requested 
 respectful obedience. Robbie was popular with 
 the men, and was successful in managing them. 
 During Mr. Wells absence the business rapidly 
 increased. The men, remembering his kindness, 
 cheerfully worked over-time, and Robbie was not 
 compelled to employ additional help. 
 
 "Robbie, you 11 have to keep your eye on Bill 
 Jenkins." 
 
 "Why, Jack?" 
 
 " He s tryin to git some of the men to strike 
 for higher wages. I don t like to blow, but 
 Mr. Wells has been good to you and me, and one 
 good turn deserves another. You d better turn 
 Bill off." 
 
 " He is an old hand, is n t he? " 
 
 " About forty, I guess." 
 
 " I mean, he has been in the employ of Mr. 
 Wells for some time." 
 
 " Oh, yes. He d a starved to death last winter 
 if the boss hadn t fed him." 
 
At Home. 32$ 
 
 "Are any others discontented?" 
 
 " No, sir. They re true as steel." 
 
 " Has Bill talked to many of the men? " 
 
 "He s talked to me and Charley Hay, and 
 Bob Childs, and Ben Dillingham. I don t 
 know how many more. We told him to save 
 his breath ? til times got dull agin, and then use 
 it in askin the boss for bread and meat for his 
 children/ 
 
 ""What reply did he make?" 
 
 " He said he did n t want to work under a boy 
 what had n t no beard on his face. I d let him 
 go quicker n shootin , Robbie." 
 
 " How many children has he? " 
 
 " Four or five." 
 
 " I 11 talk to him, Jack." 
 
 " Talk sassy to him, Robbie. I ve been a 
 ptirty good Christian for a year, but I 11 git a 
 furlough long enough to lick him for yon, if 
 you want me to." 
 
 "What do you want to whip him for?" 
 
 " For sayin you hain t got no beard." 
 
 "That is the truth, Jack. I hope you 
 wouldn t whip a man for telling the truth." 
 
 " T ain t his place to tell it. You don t seem 
 
3 26 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 like a boy no more, Eobbie; and if he d kep his 
 clack shet the men would n t a knowed you had 
 no hair on yonr face. 
 
 " I don t care what Eill says about me, Jack. 
 If he will work for his employer s interest I }] 
 not discharge him." 
 
 "Well, Eobbie, I s pose you re right, but you 
 can stan more n me." 
 
 " I will see Bill, to-morrow. He must stop 
 talking such stuff to the men." 
 
 Eobbie talked to " Bill Jenkins the next day. 
 He reminded him of Mr. Wells kindness during 
 the dark days of the previous winter, and soon 
 brought the tears to the man s eyes. 
 
 "I s pose I ll git my walkin papers, Mr. 
 Bently?" 
 
 ".No; I do n t want to discharge you, William. 
 I want you to work for the interest of the man 
 who has befriended you, and not try to make 
 others discontented." 
 
 " I s pose you 11 report me to the boss when 
 he comes home?" 
 
 " If you do your duty from this time until his 
 return, there will be nothing to report." 
 
At Home. 327 
 
 " Here s my hand, young man. I 11 remem 
 ber this lesson." 
 
 After that " talk," no man worked more faith 
 fully for Mr. Wells than Bill Jenkins. If all 
 employers were as wise and humane as George 
 Wells there would be few " strikes " and far less 
 suffering among the laboring classes. Until 
 employers know more of their men than can 
 be gleaned by a glance at the pay roll, there will 
 be no solution of the vexed "labor question." 
 
 George Wells spent a pleasant winter in Wash 
 ington with James, Bessie and Patience. He 
 was proud of his nephew, whom the best men in 
 the nation delighted to honor, and strange as 
 it may appear he was pleased with Washing 
 ton society. Early in the spring he returned to 
 Windsor to "give Robbie a rest." 
 
 " Well, my boy, how did you get along with 
 that last cargo?" 
 
 " All right, Mr. Wells. When I wrote you, I 
 thought you would have to pay demurrage, but 
 the men worked so faithfully that the vessel was 
 not detained." 
 
 " They are good men, Robbie, and are always 
 ready to do their whole duty." 
 
328 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 "Yes, sir. They have worked well. I have 
 paid all bills, and here is a statement of the 
 business transacted during your absence. I 
 have not included the plaster on hand, but I 
 think there is fully as much as when you left." 
 
 " There is more, Robbie. I looked at it as I 
 came in. Thirty-one hundred dollars net profits! 
 Why, my boy, you do better when I am gone 
 than when I am here to bother you." 
 
 " No, sir. I miss you very much. But busi 
 ness was better after you left, and prices were 
 higher." 
 
 "But you have handled an unusual quantity 
 of plaster without increasing the number of 
 men." 
 
 " I had them work over-time. I thought it 
 would be better than to employ more men." 
 
 "You acted wisely, Robbie. Hereafter you 
 may conduct the business in the name of Wells 
 & Bently." 
 
 "But you don t intend to give me an interest 
 in the business, Mr. Wells?" 
 
 "No; I don t intend to give it to you. You 
 have earned it, my boy, and I shall not with 
 hold it." 
 
At Home. 329 
 
 " This is too much, Mr. Wells. I cannot repay 
 you." 
 
 " Yon d better go and tell the men they can 
 hare a holiday, Bobbie." 
 
 With tears of gratitude the orphan boy 
 obeyed. He could not utter his thanks. He 
 would place a stone at the grave of his mother 
 and sisters. 
 
 " I 11 have to let the Jones place go, Elijah. 
 I can t meet them payments and keep it." 
 
 " It s the best payin property yon ve got, 
 father." 
 
 " I know it; but it must be sold." 
 
 " We re gittin purty near the poor house, 
 father." 
 
 " So we air." 
 
 " If you had n t been a fool, we d be forehanded 
 this blessed minit." 
 
 " You re a fine speciment to call your father a 
 fool." 
 
 " That s jest what you air, dad. If you d 
 staid in prison we d a been all right." 
 
 " And you think I hain t got no more sprawl 
 
330 Century of Gossip. 
 
 than to stay in prison to save money for yon, do 
 you? I ve told you afore that you can t play 
 your father for a nateral fool." 
 
 "If you d staid in prison you wouldn t had 
 no forty thousand dollars divorce money to pay, 
 and Squire Gray wouldn t a got that thirty 
 thousand dollars wuth of property for gittin 
 you out." 
 
 " If you had n t writ that deed we would n t 
 been in prison." 
 
 " Twas your signiii it that sent us." 
 
 " If you d a been half as smart as Jim you 
 could a marrid Bessie J ones, and we wouldn t 
 had no trouble." 
 
 " Marryin a gal agin her will is hard bizness 
 in this country, dad." 
 
 " Well, there 11 be enough left to keep me, and 
 you can dig clams for a livin , for all I care." 
 
 " That s as good as smugglin rum." 
 
 " Go right off to bed, Elijah." 
 
 Uncle Henry is still working hemlock tan and 
 listening to the gossips. His little shop is 
 nightly filled with good, bad, and indifferent 
 
At Home. 331 
 
 Eltonians. He has tried in vain to reform the 
 bad. Philip, the philosopher, calls in when he 
 thinks the severe weather will keep the scandal 
 mongers at home. He and Uncle Henry arc 
 still of the opinion that " Parson Green is the 
 best Christian in Maine." 
 
 Elder Steele has gone West. He found that 
 Elton was not like an omnibus. 
 
 Widow Love is still jolly. She scatters a great 
 deal of sunshine, and is especially kind to the 
 fatherless. When the night is very cold, the 
 Glenville and Berwick stage stops before her 
 door, and the passengers wonder " what s up." 
 In two minutes the driver is again in his seat, 
 warmed and cheered by the cup of hot coffee he 
 has "jest put down." 
 
 Nelly Blunt is living with her father, in the 
 little home he has provided. She is not insane, 
 but there is no joy in her heart, and she is sadly 
 awaiting the summons that is delayed only when 
 the weary soul would gladly obey. 
 
 James Wells is still in Congress, serving his 
 third term. He stoutly maintains that he is not 
 a politician ; but he is deeply interested in the 
 moves on the political checker-board. lie stands 
 
33 2 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 at the head of his profession, and is beloved by 
 all who know him. 
 
 Harry Jones is already a " good office lawyer," 
 and the business of Wells & Jones is lucrative 
 and satisfactory. 
 
 Ben Love and Zach Brown have grown up and 
 gone "West. They are honest and true, and if 
 they can manage to keep out of Congress they 
 will make useful citizens. 
 
 Squire Gray attends Court and looks on. He 
 regrets that he made "that proposition," but the 
 members of the Bar have taken no steps for his 
 relief. He has a fondness for good securities and 
 New England rum. If he can t practice law he 
 can paint, and the bright blossom on his nose 
 attests his proficiency. He tells strangers that 
 he injured his voice pleading at the Bar. They 
 look at his face and "guess the bar-keeper must 
 have been very deaf." 
 
 Patience "Wells is living with James and 
 Bessie. She is tenderly cared for and fondly 
 loved; but she cannot forget the past. There 
 are wounds that Time cannot heal; wounds that 
 Memory is ever probing ; wounds that only 
 Death can efface. 
 
At Home. 333 
 
 Lawyer Ainswortli is wearing the ermine. 
 He is a just Judge, and enjoys, in a marked 
 degree, the confidence of the whole people. He 
 is a tried friend of James and Bessie Wells, and 
 he spends many happy hours in their pleasant 
 home. "When he is not clear on a law point, he 
 takes counsel of James, and his decisions are 
 never reversed by a higher Court. 
 
 " Honest John " is still driving on the Glen- 
 ville and Berwick stage route. He takes great 
 pride in exhibiting a gold-mounted whip that 
 was "presented by a gentleman as is a gentle 
 man, from Novy Skoshy." 
 
 " I am so happy to-day, James." 
 
 "I trust you will always be happy, clear 
 Bessie." 
 
 "This is one of the brightest of your < com 
 pensations, my dear niece." 
 
 " So it is, Uncle George." 
 
 " There is a knock at the door, James." 
 
 "I will answer it, if you will take this bundle 
 of flannel, dear mother." 
 
334 
 
 A Century of Gossip. 
 
 " Good morning, Mrs. Deford. Come in." 
 "I can t stop, Jimmy. Honest John is 
 
 holdin the stage for me. I ve brought you 
 
 them stockins." 
 
PUBLICATIONS 
 
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 W. B. KEEN, COOKE & Co., 
 
 113 & 115 STATE STREET, 
 
 RAYNE. Against Fate. A True Story ; by Mrs. M. 
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 Bound in the most attractive styles. Price, $1.50. 
 
 NASH. A Century of Gossip, or The Real and the 
 Seeming of New England Life. By WlLLARD G. NASH. 
 Numerous illustrations, by Beale Earlie. English mus 
 lin, black and gold ornamentation. Price, $1.50. 
 
 GUNNING. A new work on Popular Science ; a volume 
 embodying the topics comprised in the author s scientific 
 lectures, as delivered in Chicago and elsewhere, on Geol 
 ogy, Darwinism, the Mound Builders, and Sketches of 
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2 PUBLICATIONS OF W. B. KEEN, COOKE & CO. 
 
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 and Other Stories. By ALLAN PINKERTON. Each 
 narration is thrilling. The Pinkerton series is peculiarly 
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 SHUMAN. The Loves of a Lawyer ; His Quan 
 dary, and How it Came Out. By ANDREW SHUMAN, 
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 its elegant appearance, as for its genial and hearty matter. 
 Elaborately bound in muslin, of different colors, with 
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 GRIMES. The Mysteries of the Head and the 
 Heart Explained. By J. STANLEY GRIMES, the Pop 
 ular Lecturer. Illustrated with upwards of one hundred 
 original drawings, engraved expressly for this work. Full 
 of new ideas ; an improved system of phrenology ; a new 
 theory of the emotions, and an explanation of the myste 
 ries of Mesmerism, trance, mind-reading, and the spirit 
 delusion. You hear and read about Spiritualism, Mes 
 merism, Ghost-seeing, Clairvoyance, and wonder whether 
 there is any reality in these things. You naturally ask : 
 Can I see and converse with friends in the Spirit Land? 
 Is there any truth in Spiritualism? How can I induce 
 the trance state ? These and many similar questions are 
 all answered carefully, correctly, and clearly, in Prof. 
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 tion to be found nowhere else. Price, $2. 
 
 McCLELLAND. Civil Malpractice. By M. A. MC 
 CLELLAND, M.D., of Knoxville, 111. Complete in one 
 volume. Mailed free on receipt of price, $2. 
 
 Malpractice may conveniently be divided into two kinds, viz.: 
 i. Civil Malpractice, in which patients bring suits for damages which 
 they have, or think they have, sustained. 2. Criminal Malpractice, in 
 which the People or State is made the plaintiff. The present work is 
 limited to the consideration of the first division of the subject." 
 
 CONTENTS. Civil Malpractice. Definition of Term Allegation of 
 Plaintiff Definition of Ordinary Skill Quacks, definition of Adjudi 
 cated Cases The Physician must Adhere to his Adopted Method 
 Medical Books in Evidence Necessity for Making Visits No Depar 
 ture from Course of Treatment Adopted Initial Bandage Contribu 
 tory Negligence Negligence and Skill from a Medical Stand-point 
 Crepitus, Difficulty of Diagnosis Dislocations Skill in Treatment 
 " Setting" of Fractures, lime for Reduction Means to Prevent Short 
 ening Impacted Fracture Rules for the Government of the Surgeon 
 in Treatment of Fractures Amputations Bibliography. 
 
 POWERS & JOHNSON. The Complete Accoun 
 tant. Designed for the use of schools and private study. 
 By M. R. POWERS, Principal of the Commercial Depart 
 ment, Metropolitan Business College, and M. R. JOHNSON, 
 author of " Accountant s Guide." Price. $2.50. 
 
 *** The most exhaustive and thorough treatise on Practical Book 
 keeping ever published. 
 
PUBLICATIONS OF W. B. KEEN, COOKE & CO. 
 
 SWING. David Swing s Sermons. Bound in beau 
 tiful English cloth. Price, $1.50. 
 
 Prof. Swing s best Sermons. " He fascinates the care 
 less and the unconverted, and wins them over to Christ 
 ianity." A cheap and beautiful volume. An account of 
 the Trial, and " Declaration" presented to the Presbytery 
 by Prof. Swing, in explanation of his theological opinions. 
 
 DAVID SWING S CHURCH. THE CENTRAL CHURCH. Its Creed. We, 
 whose names are signed to this paper, earnestly desiring to promote 
 our own spiritual welfare, and to take some part in the great work of 
 helping others to lead the Christian life, living in a large city, where 
 the moral work to be done is so great, do form ourselves into a Christian 
 society, to be known as the Central Church of Chicago. We would 
 found our church upon the great doctrines of the New Testament. We 
 believe in the divine character and mission of Christ ; that He is the 
 Savior which man in his sinfulnesS and darkness needs ; that all those 
 believing and following this Christ are entitled to the name of Christi ms. 
 Furthermore, as at the Holy Communion many leading evangelical 
 churches cordially invite to the Supper all who love the Lord in sin 
 cerity and truth, So we, feeling that no service of the sanctuary is 
 holier than its communion, would invite into full membership all who 
 make this Savior their way, truth, and life. 
 
 ARTHUIS. Static Electricity. A new book on Ner 
 vous and Rheumatic Affections treated by Static Electric 
 ity. By Dr. ARTHUIS, a noted Practitioner of Paris, France. 
 Translated by J. H. ETHERIDGE, M.D., Professor of Gen 
 eral Therapeutics in Rush Medical College, Chicago. One 
 volume, I2mo., illustrated. Price, $2. 
 
 CONTENTS. History of Medical Electricity Inferiority of Dynamic 
 Electricity, its Dangers Static Electricity; Operative Procedures Elec 
 tric Machine Insulator Excitators Electric Bath Absorption of 
 Electricity by the Humnn Body Electric Currents Sparks and Elec 
 tric Frictions Electric Douches and Pulverizations Natural Electric- 
 Currents Frictions, Shampooing Examination of the Patient On 
 Transport of Medicines by Static Electricity Medicines Experiments 
 of Dr. Burq Clinical Observations Epilepsy Paralysis with Aphasia 
 Progressive Locomotor Ataxia Rheumatism Muscular Contractions 
 Rheumatism, General Innervation, Moral Prostration Hysteria 
 Chorea, or St. Vitas Dance Neuralgia Facial Neuralgia Intercostal 
 Neuralgia Sciatica Gastralgia, Nervous Vomitings Asthma Pulmo 
 nary Emphysema Deafness Amaurosis Action of Static Electricity 
 on Menstruation, Dysmenorhoea Chronic Diarrhoea Incontinence of 
 Urine Paralysis of the Bladder Tonic and Recuperating Action of 
 Static Electricity upon Enfeebled Subjects and Old People Hypo 
 chondria Hectic Fever Pulmonary Phthisis. 
 
14 DAY USE 
 
 This book is due on the last date stamped below, or 
 
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 Renewed books are subject to immediate recall. 
 
 LD 21-1007n-6, 56 
 (B9311slO)476 
 
 General Library . 
 University of California 
 Berkeley 
 
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 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY